The Araucanians divide time as we do, into years, seasons, months, days, and hours; but in a different method. They commence their solar year on the 22d of December, calling this solstice Thaumathipantu, the head and tail of the year; and they denominate June, Udanthipantu, the divider of the year, from its dividing it into two parts.
They divide the year into twelve months, of thirty days each, and add five intercalary days to make out the solar year. The months are named from the most remarkable things produced at the time: thus—January is called Avuncujer, the month of fruit; February, Cogi-cujer, the month of harvest—and so on. The natural day is divided into twelve parts, six being allotted to the day, and six to the night; so that the Araucanian hour is as long as two of ours.
In astronomy, they have made wonderful progress, considering that they have had no written signs, to perpetuate their observations. They have divided the stars into constellations, and named these from the number of remarkable stars that compose them. Thus, the Pleiades are called Cajupal, the constellation of six; and the Antartic Cross, Meleritho, the constellation of four; because the first has six stars that are very apparent, and the last four.
They are well acquainted with the planets, and believe that these globes are so many earths, inhabited in the same manner as ours; for this reason they call the sky Guenu-mapu—the country of heaven; and the moon, Cuyen-mapu—the country of the moon. They believe comets to be exhalations or vapors from the earth, inflamed in the upper regions of the air; and never exhibit any fear at the sight of these, or of eclipses of the sun or moon. It is plain that they consider these as natural phenomena, but whether they know the course of eclipses or not, cannot be gathered from the imperfect knowledge we have of their language.
The Araucanians hold oratory in high estimation. The eldest son cannot succeed to the right of his birth, if he is deficient in this talent. So parents accustom their young sons, from childhood, to speak in public, and carry them to the national assemblies, where the best orators of the country display their eloquence.
They are as careful as ever were the Greeks, to speak their language correctly, and to preserve its purity. They are so particular about introducing foreign words, that when a foreigner settles among them, they oblige him to relinquish his name, and take another in the Chilian language.
The speeches of their orators are in the Asiatic style, highly figurative, allegorical, and elevated. They abound with parables and apologues; and yet they are seldom deficient in all the essential parts required by the rules of rhetoric; they have a suitable exordium, a clear narrative, a well-founded argument, and a pathetic peroration.
Their poets are called gempin, signifying lords of speech. What a beautiful and expressive name! Unrestrained enthusiasm is the prime characteristic of their poetry. The principal subject of the songs is the exploits of their heroes, somewhat in the manner of Ossian. Their verses are composed mostly in stanzas of eight or eleven syllables—a measure that appears most agreeable to the human ear. They are blank, but occasionally a rhyme is introduced, according to the taste of the poet.
The Araucanians have three kinds of physicians: the ampines, who employ only simples. These doctors are skilful in their knowledge of herbs, and understand pretty well the curing of most common diseases. Then there are the vileus, a class of doctors who believe that all contagious disorders proceed from insects: these are the regular physicians, and despise the poor herb-doctor as much as our own regular-bred M. D.’s do the quacks. The third class—machis—maintain that all serious disorders proceed from witchcraft, and pretend to cure by supernatural means; for which reason they are employed in desperate cases, when the exertions of the other doctors have failed. Sometimes the three kinds of physicians are called to hold a regular consultation—but they seldom agree.
Besides these professors of medicine, there are surgeons—gutorne—who remedy dislocations, and cure wounds and ulcers. And there is also a class who dissect bodies, in order to learn from the entrails if they are infected with poison; and in this way they obtain a tolerably correct notion of the human anatomy.