OSO. Tijdschrift voor Surinaamse Taalkunde, Letterkunde en Geschiedenis. Jaargang 3

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Aphra Behn, Suriname and the critics
Anneke Prins-s' Jacob

Aphra Behn is a fascinating writer about whom very little is known. That she has attracted attention, and has been the subject of several studies is not surprising. That so many of these studies, and especially the recent biographies have been mediocre and unscholarly is regrettable. As Herman Wekker notes in his review (May 1983), many questions remain, and little notice has been taken of Dutch scholarship, not only H.D. Benjamin's articles in De West-Indische Gids (1919, 1920, 1927), but also the many other articles in De West-Indische Gids dealing with the history and the language of Suriname. This article will first take another look at the Link, Duffy, and Goreau biographies, and then report on some research done on the Suriname of Oroonoko and its time.¹

1 Limitations of space do not permit me to include in this discussion Albert Helman's enormously sympathetic study of Aphra Behn in Maatstaf (1982, 8-9: 1-44). Helman's translation of Oroonoko was reviewed by Gloria Wekker in OSO 2,2 (December 1983).

The Biographies

Since all biographies refer at some point to the ‘Life and Memoirs... by One of the Fair Sex’, a study of this ‘document’ by Robert A. Day in Studies in Bibliography (1969) is of prime importance. Day's careful scholarship, completely documented, has been generally ignored. The complete absence of any biographical information in print between Mrs. Behn's death (in 1686) and 1696 is noted. As opposed to Link's undocumented assertion that the earliest version of the ‘Life and Memoirs’ is preceded by Charles Gildon's biographical notice and probably written by Gildon as well (Link 1968: 17), Day argues, with documentation, that this version of the ‘Life and Memoirs’ predates Gildon's notice, and that it is very unlikely that Gildon wrote both. He notes that, in its final version (used by Montague Summers and most critics), the biography is a patchwork of disparate pieces of different origins, and written in different styles. After examining all elements Day concludes: ‘The only theory to account fully for the creation of LA-LC [the different versions of the biography] is this: a flimsy and brief account of Mrs. Behn, perhaps by a woman who had been acquainted with or heard tales of her, was expanded by its author or the bookseller, using two separate caches of papers which came to light in 1695/6 or 1697/8.’ And finally: ‘Nearly all of the “Life and Memoirs” consists of novels and fragments of novels, very probably by Mrs. Behn, and some of her letters. Most of its specific statements which are not part of these fictions are derived from her published works, and perhaps (in one or two cases) from her own lips. Aphra Behn's first biographer was the incomparable Aphra herself’ (1969: 239-240).

The implications of these conclusions are important. Several biographers have compared the biography to autobiographical references in Oroonoko, and

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adduced the veracity of one to its correspondence to the other. ‘Oroonoko (1688) contains a number of details which corroborate the “Memoirs”,’ says Link (1968: 18). Day's findings show the circularity of such reasoning.

Another valuable work of scholarship is New Light on Aphra Behn by W.J. Cameron, the first to publish the available documents on Behn's activities in Antwerp, and the first to undertake an impartial comparison of the autobiographical comments in the novels, the ‘Memoirs’, and the existing records. It is interesting to note that some of Day's findings about the ‘Memoirs’ are anticipated by Cameron on strictly stylistic grounds, although Cameron was unable to pursue his intuition with the limited resources available to him in Australia.

Link, Duffy and Goreau

Let us now look at the three biographies by Link, Duffy and Goreau. Link (1968) enumerates the scanty facts and numerous false leads on Mrs. Behn's childhood, giving full credit to Cameron and other sources, but without adding any further research of his own. He is one of the few critics who does not confuse first-person narrative (as in Oroonoko) with autobiography, or a literary stance of veracity with proof of historical truth.

Duffy (1977), on the other hand, pours out vast quantities of data, most of them unoriginal, unacknowledged, or based on supposition. Virtually all documents by Duffy are first mentioned and printed by Cameron. It is not surprising that, as Wekker notes (1983: 88): ‘Angeline Goreau and Maureen Duffy, probably shortly after each other, consulted many of the same sources in British libraries and archives...,’ because all of these documents appear in Cameron. Both Duffy and Goreau mention Cameron's book in their bibliography, but neglect to give him credit for finding the documents that they used. Similarly, Duffy's ‘find’ of Yearworth's letter on ‘the Ladeyes’ of St. John's Hill, not only was already discovered by Benjamins, but can also be found in Platt's article (1934: 555) and in Cameron (1961: 10).

In view of this lack of scholarly integrity one wonders about the discovery of the Culpepper quote on Aphra Behn's maiden name and place of birth.² But even if Duffy found this note herself, and even if it holds up, the further discoveries linked to it are never proven. Culpepper writes that Aphra Behn was his ‘foster -sister’, and her mother his nurse; Duffy finds a birth-register (not in Canterbury or Sturry, as Culpepper said, but in Harbledown) stating that one Elizabeth Johnson had a daughter Eaffry in 1640. From the use of the word ‘foster-sister’ Duffy concludes that Mrs. Johnson was Culpepper's wet-nurse, adding: ‘The major obstacle to an identification with Thomas Culpepper's foster sister is the gap of three years between his birth and hers. This gap isn't impossible. The Johnsons may have had another child, perhaps a miscarried child, before their daughter, or Thomas Culpepper might have been sickly and given the breast for longer than usual or it could have been that, although Mrs. Johnson was his nurse, she was wetnurse only to his sister’ (1977: 21). This gives a good insight in the quality of Duffy's argument. Three years is by no means an impossibly long period to nurse a child, and if Mrs. Johnson nursed first Culpepper (born on Christmas day, 1637), and then his sister (baptized on July 7, 1639), she would have nursed Thomas only for about eighteen months. This hypothetical objection is rebutted by Duffy contradicting herself (the use of ‘foster-brother’ specifically suggests that Mrs. Johnson was his wetnurse, but then again, she may not have been). The more serious objection - how Mrs. Johnson could have been Culpepper's wetnurse before she had her first child, and well before her marriage - is never raised. It should be noted, moreover, that all those who suggest a birthdate in 1640 clearly disregard the statement

2 In fact, Culpepper's Adversaria is already mentioned by Summers (1915: liv note).

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in the ‘Memoirs’ that Aphra Behn was very young when she went to Suriname.

I would disagree, then, with Wekker's preference of Duffy over Goreau, because Duffy presents unproven suppositions and borrowed research as her own scholarship, while Goreau gives a romanticized and emphatic story without making too many claims for herself. It is certainly regrettable that work of so little value as Goreau's has been issued in such a handsomely illustrated edition.

Further research

‘Hier ligt nog werk in overvloed voor anderen’, are Wekker's concluding words. Without any claims of comprehensiveness or completeness, some results of further research here follow. Points of controversy in Oroonoko are: Aphra Behn's picture of Suriname and some of its flora and fauna, her evaluation of its climate, some of her remarks about the slaves, and her description of the Indians and their customs. In the course of the book she uses a few words not commonly used or known in her time, and I have tried to identify or verify these.

The usual procedure of a critic of Behn's posture as an eyewitness in Oroonoko has been to choose a contemporary document and compare Behn's account to this document in order to prove or disprove her veracity. Quite often, indeed, the critic starts out with a preconceived opinion and supports his theory in the above manner. Thus, seventeenth-century travel accounts have been used to test the accuracy of novelist Behn, without regard for the aims and the manner of composition of these accounts. The veracity and the independence of each of these documents has rarely been questioned, and they have not been compared to each other. No work at all has been done on Behn's use of foreign words. Yet a comparison of some contemporary travel accounts, and consultation of the available dictionaries have yielded some interesting results.³

3 My choice of works from the many existing travel stories is arbitrary, and partly dictated by availability in the Rare Book Room of the New York Public Library. Because dictionaries of the various languages were even harder to find, I have included some fairly late ones.

Early sources and their relationship to each other

Several of Behn's most disputed assertions turn out to be perhaps not ‘accurate’ in our modern sense, but certainly part of the idées reçues of her time, and also quite justified. To name but one example: the climate of Suriname is definitely not what we would call ‘eternal Spring’, but it is praised by almost all contemporary writers, and for a plantation economy with slaves at its disposal it is clearly most favorable. This becomes especially clear in Keye's book, which in its 1659 edition is called Het Waere Onderscheyt tusschen Koude en Warme Landen. Keye compares Suriname to Virginia in terms intended for prospective settlers, such as the initial investment needed, the cost of maintaining slaves versus that of keeping servants, the advantages of three harvests per year over one, and the settler's prospect for a return on his investment.⁴

On close inspection, several seventeenth and eighteenth-century travel stories turn out to be - without any acknowledgement - intimately, if not incestuously related. Herlein's Beschrijvinge van de Volk - Plantinge Zuriname (1718), for instance, is one of the oldest original Dutch works on Suriname. It is an extensive work, giving much specific information and an extremely detailed map. It distinguished itself by a special interest in languages, with a sample dialogue in Creole in the text and a Carib dictionary at the end.⁵ Dutch and Suriname scholarship on Suriname history tends to lean heavily on Herlein because of its early date and the amount of information given. I have not seen any references to an awareness that some of this information is not original. The descriptions of the marmozet and the cousherie (mentioned by Behn as articles of trade of the Indians) occur

4 Het Waere Onderscheyt... (1659) is identical to the 1660 Beschryvinge van het Heerlijcke en Gezengende Landt Guayana... which I used. According to H.D. Benjamins (1926: 535-6) Keye was a captain serving the United Provinces in Brasil, later counsel to the Geoctroyeerde Guajaansche Colonye.

5 Schuchardt considers it probably the oldest sample dialogue of any Creole language in existence (1914: xvii). The Carib dictionary is attributed by Herlein to Rochefort.

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in Warren (1667), in Montanus' compilation (1671), and in Herlein (1718) in almost identical terms.

The Marmazet is a very pretty Creature of a greenish yellow Colour, and, though far less than a Monkey, is Commander of all these lofty Dwellers, riding them from Tree to Tree at his pleasure, they not being able to shake him off, and instead of Spurs, to provoke their speed, he bites them by the Ears. The Quotto is black, something bigger than a Monkey, having a very long tail, with which he swings himself from Bough to Bough, his Face is Red, with hair hanging a little over his Forehead, and his Aspect is almost like an old Indian-womans, his cry is shrill and very loud. The Cusharee is black, less than a marmazet, and shap'd every way perfectly like a Lyon. (Warren 1667: 14)

Quotoes, deze is swart en eenige manier als de Apen, dog wat groter met een lange steert, waar mede zy zig van d'eene Boom na d' andere swengt; zy hebben een rood bakkes, het hair over 't voorhoofd hangende ziende uit als een oud grimmig gedrogt. Cuscary, deze is mede swart en kleinder, al om geschapen in gelijkheid van de Leeuw... Marmazet, deze is een klein aardig Diertje van een gele en groene koleur, veel kleinder als een Aap, nogtans beheerst het alle andere Boom-danssende Aperige gezellen, op hare rug rijdende, springende de dienaars van deze Marmazet van d'eene Boom op d'andere, haar daar-en-boven de spoor gevende met haar in de ooren te bijten, zo dat zy zelfs niet konnen afgesmeten worden, omdat zy zeer vasthouden. (Herlein 1718: 171).

Note, for instance, the use of spurs (spoor) in both passages. These descriptions are equally similar in Van Berkel (1695: 122). The word cousherie does not occur in the Oxford English Dictionary and is presumably not found outside travel stories. Rochefort (1658) has ‘couciri-tamarin, voyer caboüanàma’; and ‘caboüanama-petit animal des Indes plus petit, mais du moins aussi gentil que l'escurieu, on ne passe en France quelque fois, c'est un present d'autant plus exquis qu'il est plus rares et difficile a conseruer dans la traversee.’⁶

The descriptions of the Numb-Eel are equally similar:

I'le but name a third, which, for the strangeness of its Nature, deserves a more particular Description, 'Tis the Torpedo or Num-Eele, which being alive and touching any other Living Creature, strikes such a deadness into all the parts, as for a while renders them wholly useless, and insensible, which, is belie'd has occasioned the Drowning of several persons who have been unhappily so taken, as they were Swiming in the River. (Warren 1667: 2)

Torpedo, of zo de Engelschen zeggen Num-eel, zo veel als een beroerde Aal of Paling, dewelke levendig zijnde eenig ander Schepsel aanrakende, geeft aan alle leden van de zelve een zulke doofheid en beroerte, dat zy voor een tijd lang ten eenemaal ongevoelig; en het is gelooflijk dat verscheide Luiden verdronken zijn, die het ongeluk gehad hebben dat zy in 't swemmen over de Rivieren door zo een Vis geraakt geworden. (Herlein 1718: 194)

The story of the Numb-Eel in Oroonoko, which almost causes the hero's death by drowning because he ‘could not understand that Philosophy, that a cold Quality should be of that nature’ (53) has provoked sceptic remarks from Bernbaum (1913: 427) and Cameron (1961: 7) but the Encyclopedia Britannica notes that ‘the shock is powerful enough to stun a man and perhaps

6 Schuchardt (1914), writing about the Saramakka language, has ‘kussiri - kleine Art Affen mit gelben Pfoten (kalina - kusiri - midas rufimamus). De Goeje (1906) has the word in all three Indian languages.

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to kill a horse.’

Among the riches of Suriname, Behn singles out the various woods: ‘The very Wood of all these Trees has an intrinsic Value, above common Timber; for they are, when cut, of different Colours, glorious to behold, and bear a Price considerable, to inlay withal. Besides this, they yield rich Balm, and Gums; so that we make our Candles of such an aromatick Substance, as does not only give a sufficient Light, but, as they burn, they cast their Perfumes all about’ (49). Warren (1667: 17) barely mentions the precious woods: ‘... nor are Dying-Woods wanting, but more minded by the Dutch than English.’ But Keye notes: ‘De Wilden op de voordeyde Eylanden maeckten Flambaeuwen ofte Fackels om-heen in geset door seeckere Gomme col van die selve Moscaten, dewelcke brandende een seer heerlycken en aanghenamen reuck van haer geven’ (1659: 51). Montamus also mentions ‘vuurvoedende takken vol gomme, by d'Hollanders ter dier oorsaeck kaershout genaimt’ (1671: 180). Breton has: ‘Touli c'est le sandal qui est gommeux son feu est clair et flamboyant, ils s'en servent pour faire des flambeaux, qui en portent le nom aussi bien que nos lampes et nos chandelles, dont ils n'ont point l'usage.’ (1665). Herlein uses twenty-five pages to describe many different trees.

Treatment of the slaves

The sources are unanimous on the bad treatment of the slaves, Warren noting that it sometimes drives them to flight or suicide, and that they suffer great tortures. He continues: ‘... they believe the Ancient Pythagorean Errour of the Soul's transmigration out of one body into another, that when they dye, they shall return into their own Countries and be Regenerated, so to live in the World by a Constant Revolution’ (1667: 19-20). Herlein has: ‘Zy alle hebben het gevoelen van Pythagoras, nopende de verhuizinge van de Ziel van 't eene Lighaam in 't ander; en dat zy als zy komen te sterven herboorn zullen worden, inmiddels na Europa gaan, en wederkeeren in haar Vaderland, op het gezang van de rijke Dogter de Zon...’ (1718: 120). This can be compared to Imoinda's reaction as Oroonoko is about to kill her: ‘... hers [i.e. her eyes] were smiling with Joy she should die by so noble a Hand, and be sent into her own Country’ (72).

The Indians

Perhaps the most striking and unusual are the parts of Oroonoko dealing with the Indians, both because of their idealizing ‘noble savage’ tone and because of the abundance of factual detail. The Indians are described as wearing many decorative knick-knacks, and little aprons embroidered with beadwork, ‘which Apron they wear just before 'em, as Adam and Eve did the Fig-leaves; the Men wearing a long stripe of Liene, which they deal with us for’ (2-3). This statement is not very clear, but later on the warcaptains are said to wear ‘Comitia's, or little Aprons’ (57-8). Warren says of the Indians: ‘They go wholly naked, save a Flap for Modesty, which the Women, after having had a Child or two, throw off’ (1667: 23). He does not use the word comitia. Herlein, on the other hand, notes: ‘Voorts gaan de Karaibanen... gelyk als de Negers zonder eenige kledinge; als alleenlyk hebbenze om het Schamel-deel een strook geel geverft Linnen, een vierendeel breed en twe ellen lang, het welk zy Langoutin noemen, dat zy mede tusschen de beenen door winden, en voor en agter op 't Lighaam met de einden laten nederhangen’ (1718: 114).

Fermin writes: ‘Camisa - c'est le nom Indien d'une espece de couverture qui sert à cacher leur nudité. Ce n'est qu'un morceau de toile de Cotton ouvragé et brodé avec de petits grains de rassade d'environ trois pouces de hauteur.

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Cette Camisa a huit à dix pouces de long sur quatre à cinq pouces de haut, non compris la hauteur de la frange. La Camisa des Nègres est une longue bande de toile de cinq à six pouces de large, soutenuë par une petite corde auteur des reins et qui pend comme par négligence jusqu'à terre’ (1764: 164). Already in Breton ‘camicha c'est un mot qui leur sert universellement pour toute sorte d'habits, toile, mouchoirs, mesme pour leur voiles, il y a apparence qu'ils empruntent ce mot aussi bien que carta des Espagnols’ (1665: 107). Fermin is the first to distinguish the Indian camisa from that of the marroons. De Goeje, on the basis of his 1904 expedition into the interior, writes: ‘De mannen doen dit met de kamisa, een lap die tusschen de beenen door wordt gehaald en door een koordje of gordel rond het middel wordt vastgehouden. De vrouwen dragen een schortje van katoen of van zaden of kralen’ (1906: 7). Behn's description clearly incorporates aspects of both kinds of camisa without distinguishing them, which seems to indicate a lack of personal familiarity with it. De Goeje's conclusion that the exclusive use of a Spanish or Portuguese word for this piece of clothing indicates that it did not exist before 1492, is of course not tenable, and it seems possible that Herlein's Langoutin is the older word later replaced by a loan word.

Other details of Behn's description of her visit to the Indian village have to do with their houseware, and the language they speak. The Indians offer their visitors a meal on a six yard long leaf called Sarumbo leaf, seating them on little stools. The small stools are frequently mentioned. The use of leaves for napery is also repeated in many of the sources (Warren, 24; Herlein, 142; Montamus, 180), but always referring to the banana leaf. De Goeje has several Indian words for Bakove (paruru, melŭru, meriyo) and for Banaan (paruru, apalulu, paluku imö), but no tree called Sarumbo.⁷

The story of Aphra's brother kissing the Peeie's wife and the novelty of this ‘Ceremony’ (57) is an echo of Warren's: ‘They have been yet so unfortunately ignorant, not to enrich their amorous Caresses with that innocent and warm delight of kissing, but Conversing so frequently with Christians, and being naturally docile and ingenious, we have Reason to believe, they will in time be taught it (1667: 23-4). None of the other works has information on this point, but Herlein's Carib glossary has the item ‘Kust my’ Chouba nioulougou, taken from Rochefort. Breton has ‘baiser’ achouróuroumi, f. apoullatoui and ‘embrasser’ achayoutaéra.

The visitors are received by the Indians with the word Tepeeme, ‘taking their Hair up in their Hands and spreading it wide to those they call'd out to; as if they would say (as indeed it signify'd) Numberless Wonders, or not to be recounted, no more than to number the Hair of their Heads’ (55). This is not very clear as a translation. But the concept of ‘as much as the hairs on the head’ recurs: ‘For their Numbers exceed not twenty, which they want Names for too, but express them by their Fingers and Toes, which they will sometimes double and treble, but their Arithmetick is quickly at a loss, and then they Cry out Ounsa awara, that is, like the Hair of ones Head, innumerable’ (Warren 1667: 25-26). Herlein's glossary has: ‘Tien, Connóucabo raim, dat is te zeggen, alle de vingeren van de handen. Twintig, Chonnoucabo raim, Chonnougouci raim, dat is te zeggen, alle de vingeren van de handen, en alle de teenen van de voeten. Zy konnen niet verder tellen’ (1718: 258). This is an exact translation from Breton. Ounsa Awara is not found there. On the other hand, De Goeje's glossary has ‘many’ tapuime in Trio. Tapuime seems close enough to Tepeeme, but it does not say ‘numberless wonders’ or ‘like the hairs on the head’. There seems to be a confusion between a real word and an expression handed down by a tradition of unknown origin.

The case of the Indian words of welcome ‘Amora Tiguamy’ is probably different. Nothing like this could be found in the glossaries. We do not know if Aphra Behn distinguished between Indian (Kalina or Carib, Trio,

7 See also Thomas E. Penard's article (1927: 375-77).

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and Upurui) and Creole languages. All these languages show Spanish-Portuguese influence, and influenced each other extensively. Schuchardt notes that the Suriname Creole language is unusual because it draws from three European languages, Dutch, English and Portuguese. Some scholars attribute the tendency of the Creole words to end in a vowel to Portuguese influence (Schuchardt 1914: xxvii-xxix). We should not attribute sophisticated linguistic insights to Behn, but it is possible that she sensed something of this Latinate sound in the language and made up her own words in the same spirit. Amora Tiguamy sounds to me very much like a fanciful version of amor and amigo.

Conclusion

What, if anything, can we conclude from these disparate bits of information? It seems to me that Behn's use of exotic words as I see it and have presented it, is a paradigm of her treatment of the whole Suriname background: some of the words are authentic, some are confused, some are fanciful and probably made up. Similarly, some elements of her picture of Suriname are true to reality (the lushness of the vegetation, the precious and scented woods, the electric eel, the cruelties of slavery, some of the Indian lore), some may seem to us quite at variance with reality (the climate for instance) but are clearly in harmony with the common opinion of her age. Again, some elements are confused (the exact shape and nature of the comitia), some seem patently wrong (the miraculous curing of wounds on p. 76) or highly romanticized (the white marble rock on p. 49). Moreover, some of the details in Oroonoko, which are accurate or confirmed by other works, are not in Warren, and the book could not have been written by Behn if she had never been in Suriname on the basis of Warren's book only (as Bernbaum argued).

It was shown that the works studied are often closely related. Yet each of these books has much that is not in the others. The distribution of works on Suriname was wide: Ralegh (1569) was translated into Dutch in 1598 and reprinted five times; it was also published in De Bry's famous (German) collection in 1599, and parts of it were incorporated into several compilations. Rochefort (1658) was translated into Dutch in 1669, reprinted in 1670 and again in a compilation. The same is true for many other works. The circulation of these books is anybody's guess, but we can safely say that sources of knowledge were freely available (and freely used by the writers). We might add that it is impossible to determine how much information in each document is based on first-hand observation and how much on other sources. I think we can also safely say that this wide spread of documents reflects a wide interest, and that as much information must have been transmitted orally as in these books. This condition throws a new light on Behn's position. Without arguing that she did formal research for the background of Oroonoko (the whole style of the book argues against such a theory), we can assert that information about Suriname was much more easily available than it was assumed until now. The search for corroborating evidence about Behn's presence in Suriname has led to a draw so far.

Let me add my personal opinion. Cameron's case (1961: 5-17) for Behn's visit to Suriname seems convincing on well-documented historical grounds. He posits a visit lasting about three months, and taking place about twenty-five years before the writing of Oroonoko, which would account for the haziness of some of the descriptions. But the strongest argument for Behn's presence in Suriname lies, for me, in the literary evidence. The Suriname background and its role in Oroonoko are incomparably more vivid and striking than anything in Coromantien. Although Coromantien is the birthplace of the Royal Slave, and the place of action of roughly one-third of the book, that story is depicted strictly in human terms, and the background plays no part there. This qualitative difference indicates an interest in Suriname quite

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apart from the story of Oroonoko, an interest that argues strongly for Behn's presence in that country at some point in her life.

References

Behn, Aphra, 1915. The Works of Aphra Behn, ed. Montague Summers (6 vols.).

Behn, Aphra, 1688. Oroonoko or, The Royal Slave, ed. Lore Metzger (New York: Norton, 1973). References to the text are to this edition.

Benjamins, H.D., 1926. Over het boek van Otto Keye. De West-Indische Gids, 7: 535-6.

Berkel, Adriaan van, 1695. Amerikaansche Voyagien. Amsterdam, Johan ten Hoorn.

Bernbaum, Ernest, 1913. Mrs. Behn's Oroonoko. Anniversary Papers by Colleagues and Pupils of George Lyman Kittredge. Boston, 419-33.

Breton, Raymond, 1665. Dictionaire caraibe-francois, meslé de quantité de remarques historiques pour l'eclaircissement de la langue. Auxerre, G. Bouquet.

Cameron, W.J., 1961. New Light on Aphra Behn. Auckland, University of Auckland Press.

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Duffy, Maureen, 1977. The Passionate Shepherdess, Aphra Behn 1640-89. London, Jonathan Cape.

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Link, Frederick, 1968. Aphra Behn. New York, Twayne.

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Schumann, C.L., 1783: Saramakkan Dictionary.

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