One characteristic of the language is that the passive is generally employed instead of the active verb. A Tagal will not say “Juan loves Maria,” but “Maria is loved by Juan.” Fr. de los Santos says it is more elegant to employ the active than the passive verb, but I observe in the religious books circulated by the friars the general phraseology is, “It is said by God;” “it is taught by Christ,” &c.
Though the Tagál is not rich in words, the same expression having often a great variety of meanings, there is much perplexity in the construction. The padre Verduga, however, gives a list of several species of verbs, with modifications of nouns subjected to the rules of European grammar.
In adopting Spanish words the Tagals frequently simplify and curtail them; for example, for zapato (shoe) they use only pato; Lingo for Domingo; bavay, caballo (horse). The diminutive of Maria is Mariangui; whence Angui, the ordinary name for Mary.
In looking through the dictionary, I find in the language only thirty-five monosyllables, viz., a, ab, an, ang, at, ay, ca [with thirteen different meanings—a numeral (1), a personal pronoun (they), four substantives (thing, companion, fright, abstract), one verb (to go), and the rest sundry adjectival, adverbial, and other terms], cay, co, con, cun, di, din, ga, ha, i, in, is, ma (with eighteen meanings, among which are four nouns substantive, eight verbs, and four adjectives), man, mi, mo, na, ñga, o, oy, pa (seven meanings), po, sa, sang, si, sing, ta, ya, and yi.
Watches are rare among the Indians, and time is not denoted by the hours of the clock, but by the ordinary events of the day. De Mas gives no less than twenty-three different forms of language for denoting various divisions, some longer, some shorter, of the twenty-four hours; such as—darkness departs; dawn breaks; light advances (magumagana); the sun about to rise (sisilang na ang arao); full day (arao na); sun risen; hen laying; (sun) height of axe; height of spear (from the horizon); midday; sun sinking; sun set (lungmonorna); Ave Maria time; darkness; blackness; children’s bed-time; animas ringing; midnight near; midnight; midnight past (mababao sa hating gaby). And the phraseology varies in different localities. As bell-ringing and clock-striking were introduced by the Spaniards, most of the terms now in use must have been employed before their arrival.
Repetitions of the same syllable are common both in the Tagál and Bisayan languages. They are not necessarily indicative of a plural form, but frequently denote sequence or continuation, as—lavay lavay, slavery (continued work); iñgiliñgil, the growl of a dog; ñgiñgiyao ñgiñgiyao, the purring of a cat; cococococan, a hen calling her chickens; pocto pocto, uneven, irregular (there is a Devonshire word, scory, having exactly the same meaning); timbon timbon, piling up; punit punit, rags; añgao añgao, an infinite number; aling aling, changeable; caval caval, uncertain. Some Spanish words are doubled to avoid being confounded with native sounds; as dondon for don. These repetitions are a necessary consequence of the small number of primitive words.
Though the poverty of the language is remarkable, yet a great variety of designations is found for certain objects. Rice, for example, in the husk is palay (Malay, padi); before transplanting, botobor; when beginning to sprout, buticas; when the ear appears, basag; in a more advanced stage, maymota; when fully ripe in ear, boñgana; when borne down by the wind or the weight of the ear, dayapa; early rice, cavato; sticky rice, lagquitan; ill-formed in the grain, popong; rice cleaned but not separated from the husks, loba; clean rice, bigas; waste rice, binlor; ground rice, digas; roasted rice, binusa; roasted to appear like flowers, binuladac; rice paste, pilipig; fricasseed rice, sinaing; another sort of prepared rice, soman. There are no less than nineteen words for varieties of the same object. And so with verbs:—To tie, tali; to tie round, lingquis; to tie a belt, babat; to tie the hands, gapus; to tie a person by the neck, tobong; to tie with a noose, hasohaso; to tie round a jar, baat; to tie up a corpse, balacas; to tie the mouth of a purse, pogong; to tie up a basket, bilit; to tie two sticks together, pangcol; to tie up a door, gacot; to tie up a bundle (as of sticks), bigquis; to tie up sheaves of grain, tangcas; to tie up a living creature, niquit; to tie the planks of a floor together, gilaguir; a temporary tie, balaguir; to tie many times round with a knot, balaguil; tight tie, yaguis; to tie bamboos, dalin; to tie up an article lent, pañgayla. Of these twenty-one verbs the root of scarcely any is traceable to any noun substantive. For rice there are no less than sixty-five words in Bisayan; for bamboo, twenty.
There are numerous names for the crocodile. Buaya conveys the idea of its size from the egg to the full-grown animal, when he is called buayang totoo, a true crocodile. For gold there are no less than fifteen native designations, which denote its various qualities.
Juan de Noceda gives twenty-nine words as translations of mirar (to look); forty-two for meter (to put); seventy-five for menear (to move); but synonymes are with difficulty found in languages having no affinity, especially when any abstract idea is to be conveyed.
In family relations the generic word for brother is colovong; elder brother, cacang: if there be only three, the second is called colovong; the third, bongso: but if there be more than three, the second is named sumonor; the third, colovong. Twin brothers are cambal. Anac is the generic name for son; an only son, bogtong; the first-born, pañganay; the youngest, bongso; an adopted son, ynaanac. Magama means father and son united; magcunaama, father and adopted son; nagpapaama, he who falsely calls another his father; pinanamahan, a falsely called father; maanac, father or mother of many children; maganac, father, mother and family of children (of many); caanactilic, the sons of two widowers; magca, brothers by adoption.