This is another in a series of weekly blog posts comparing and contrasting the Sanskrit and Chinese Lotus Sutra translations.
H. Kern’s English translation of the 11th century Nepalese Sanskrit Lotus Sutra offers interesting variation in the telling of parables compared to English translations of Kumārajīva’s fifth century Chinese Lotus Sutra. The first example of this comes in Chapter 4 in what Kern describes as a parable “exemplifying the skill of the wise father in leading a child that has gone astray and lost all self-respect back to a feeling of his innate nobility and to happiness.”
Let’s begin with Senchu Murano’s version. After introducing the father and the missing son and their current situations, we are told the son becomes frightened and runs away after the father dispatches a messenger to bring him to the father:
“The messenger pulled him by force. The poor son thought, ‘I am caught though I am not guilty. I shall be killed.’ More and more frightened, the poor son fainted and fell to the ground. Seeing all this in the distance, the father said to the messenger, ‘I do not want him any more. Do not bring him forcibly! Pour cold water on his face and bring him to himself! Do not talk with him any more!’
“The father said this because he had realized that his son was too base and mean to meet a noble man [like his father]. He knew that the man was his son, but expediently refrained from telling to others that that was his son. [The messenger poured water on the son. The son was brought to himself.] The messenger said to him, ‘Now you are released. You can go anywhere you like.’
“The poor son had the greatest joy that he had ever had. He stood up and went to a village of the poor to get food and clothing.
Compare that with Kern’s telling:
At the same time, moment, and instant, Lord, he dispatches couriers, to whom he says: Go, sirs, and quickly fetch me that man. The fellows thereon all run forth in full speed and overtake the poor man, who, frightened, terrified, alarmed, seized with a feeling of horripilation all over his body, agitated in mind, utters a lamentable cry of distress, screams, and exclaims: I have given you no offence. But the fellows drag the poor man, however lamenting, violently with them. He, frightened, terrified, alarmed, seized with a feeling of horripilation all over his body, and agitated in mind, thinks by himself: I fear lest I shall be punished with capital punishment; I am lost. He faints away, and falls on the earth. His father dismayed and near despondency says to those fellows: Do not carry the man in that manner. With these words he sprinkles him with cold water without addressing him any further. For that householder knows the poor man’s humble disposition and his own elevated position; yet he feels that the man is his son.
The householder, Lord, skillfully conceals from everyone that it is his son. He calls one of his servants and says to him: Go, sirrah, and tell that poor man: Go, sirrah, whither thou likest; thou art free. The servant obeys, approaches the poor man and tells him: Go, sirrah, whither thou likest; thou art free. The poor man is astonished and amazed at hearing these words; he leaves that spot and wanders to the street of the poor in search of food and clothing.
Kern’s version offers a much clearer explanation of why the son was frightened. And the detail that the father sprinkled his son with cold water after he fainted without addressing him any further enhances our understanding of the depth of the father’s feelings for his son. This detail is dropped from the gāthās.
The details of the expedient used by the father to attract his son are significantly different.
Murano offers:
Thereupon the rich man thought of an expedient to persuade his son to come to him. He [wished to] dispatch messengers in secret. He said to two men looking worn-out, powerless and virtueless, ‘Go and gently tell the poor man that he will be employed here for a double day’s pay. If he agrees with you, bring him here and have him work. If he asks you what work he should do, tell him that he should clear dirt and that you two also will work with him.’
“The two messengers looked for the poor son. Having found him, they told him what they had been ordered to tell. The poor son [came back with them,] drew his pay in advance, and cleared dirt with them.
Kern expands this, offering:
In order to attract him the householder practices an able device. He employs for it two men ill-favored and of little splendor. Go, says he, go to the man you saw in this place; hire him in your own name for a double daily fee, and order him to do work here in my house. And if he asks: What work shall I have to do? tell him: Help us in clearing the heap of dirt. The two fellows go and seek the poor man and engage him for such work as mentioned. Thereupon the two fellows conjointly with the poor man clear the heap of dirt in the house for the daily pay they receive from the rich man, while they take up their abode in a hovel of straw in the neighborhood of the rich man’s dwelling.
Again, this detail is dropped from the gāthās.
At this point, it is Murano who adds details to clarify the timeline.
Kern says:
And that rich man beholds through a window his own son clearing the heap of dirt, at which sight he is anew struck with wonder and astonishment.
While Murano adds:
Seeing him, the father had compassion towards him, and wondered [why he was so base and mean]. Some days later he saw his son in the distance from the window. The son was weak, thin, worn-out, and defiled with dirt and dust.
As for the father taking up a disguise in order to chat with his son, and the son advancing until he takes over the household and the final revelation of the son’s inheritance, the differences in the two versions are more a product of Kern’s 19th century English vocabulary than the substance of the story.
In the gāthās Kern offers some curious added details. The boy is said to have run away because he was “seduced by foolish people.” And in describing the work the son will do, the rich man points out that the dirt is “replete with feces and urine.” But on a whole, the story in gāthās is even closer between versions than the prose.