The early days of Tibetan Studies in Europe: some textual and historical considerations regarding I.J. Schmidt (1779–1843) and his German translation of The Wise and the Foolish

ABSTRACT

The second half of the eighteenth and the nineteenth century saw the beginnings of Tibetan Studies in Europe through first translations, grammars, and dictionaries. Vital for this development was the Moravian autodidact Isaak Jakob Schmidt (1779–1847), also considered founder of Mongolian Studies, and his successor at the St Petersburg Academy of Science, Anton Schiefner (1817–1879). These scholars saw themselves as researchers of “Oriental languages” and published mostly in German. A notable piece within the works of Schmidt is his 1843 founding text and translation of Der Weise und der Thor (“The Wise and the Foolish,” Tib. mDzangs blun), a collection of Buddhist narratives illustrating the workings of karma. Schiefner later (1852) added corrections to Schmidt’s voluminous work. This paper aims at analysing Schmidt’s contributions to understanding East Asia and Tibet via this pioneering rendition of the stories contained in The Wise and the Foolish. Focus is on the textual sources employed, namely the Tibetan Buddhist canon (Kanjur), and the reception of the translation. Schiefner’s corrections are also considered. This article further reflects on the historical contexts of Schmidt’s life and wishes to add to our comprehension of Buddhist translations in eighteenth- and nineteenth-century Europe.

KEYWORDS:

• Isaak Jakob Schmidt
• The Wise and the Foolish
• history of Tibetan Studies
• Mdzangs blun gyi mdo
• Anton Schiefner
• history of Buddhist translations

1. Introduction

When the Moravian settlement in Sarepta (Wolga) sent Amsterdam-born Isaak Jakob Schmidt to collect debts among the Kalmycks in the solitude of the South Russian steppes in 1804–1806, the autodidact encountered Mongolian and Tibetan languages and cultures previously unknown to him and created the substance for his later scholarly impact.¹, ² Tibetan Buddhism had been (and still is) important to the Mongol tribes of the Kalmycks and the Buryats who had become Russian subjects.³ Over time, the missionary accountant Schmidt became a productive Bible translator and developed into a respected researcher in St. Petersburg. He was not only considered a major (if not the) founder of Mongolian Studies but also contributed to early Tibetan Studies in Europe, with a grammar, a dictionary, and first translations. In his heyday, Schmidt worked as curator of the Asiatic Museum of the Russian Academy of Science in St. Petersburg, founded in 1724 by the order of intellectually curious Czar Peter I, who reformed Russia in many aspects and “stands at the origins of Russian Oriental studies and collections of Oriental manuscripts and cultural artifacts.”⁴

After some initial efforts by scholars such as Gottlieb Bayer (1694–1738), Peter Pallas (1741–1811), and his assistant, the Moravian Johannes Jährig (1747–1795), the Asiatic Museum was established in 1818 especially for the purpose of collecting books and manuscripts in Eastern languages and was staffed in its beginnings primarily with German and Baltic scholars.⁵ The texts gathered by the Asia enthusiast and inventor Baron Paul Schilling von Canstadt (1786–1837) were a particularly seminal contribution to this initial collection. As a curator, Schmidt had no students, but was eventually followed by the multitalented linguist and philologist Anton Schiefner (1817–1879), who moreover pioneered in Mongolian, Estonian, Finnish, and Caucasian languages. These broadly learned scholars saw themselves as researchers of “Oriental languages,” published mainly in German, and were both active at the Academy in St. Petersburg, forming an engine for a surge in publication and translation activity.⁶ In this way, Schmidt certainly contributed to “Translating the East” (in our case the nineteenth century), the topic of this special issue.

A notable piece within the late works of Schmidt is his two-volume text and translation of a lengthy scripture from the Tibetan Buddhist canon, entitled Der Weise und der Thor (“The Wise and the Foolish,” Tib. mDzangs blun) (1843), a “classic in the history of translations of Tibetan texts into European languages.”⁷ It contains a collection of Buddhist narratives that illustrate, with lively characters, the workings of karma via accounts of the good previous deeds of the Buddha (the wise) – and beings unskilful regarding their harmful actions (the foolish). In his Ergänzungen und Berichtigungen (1852), Schiefner added extensive corrections and remarks to Schmidt’s ground-breaking work, encompassing 111 pages. Schmidt’s translation might be among the most long-living – no other German translation from Tibetan has appeared in the last 180 years.

During Schmidt and Schiefner’s academic careers, namely the first half of the nineteenth century, the rather scattered attempts of “Proto-Tibetology” slowly transformed into the initial academic study of Tibetan (mostly Buddhist) texts in Europe through illustrious explorers such as Alexander Csoma de Kőrös (1784–1842), Heinrich A. Jäschke (1817–1883), and Philippe Edouard Foucaux (1811–1894). Throughout this period, Tibetological endeavours rather took place within the frame of studying Oriental languages and religion, and we are still a long way from Tibetology as a differentiated discipline, with established chairs and research centres which one could argue happened only during the 1960s.⁸

Regarding the context of such researching “the East,” it was only a few years after Schmidt’s birth, in 1771, when Anquetil-Duperron (1731–1805) – in a ground-breaking endeavour – had published a first translation of the Zend-Avesta from Old Persian. According to Kippenberg’s analysis (who relies on Schwab’s study of Anquetil-Duperron), such discovery of numerous artifacts, languages, and texts stemming from older civilizations outside Europe started to tear down the cultural walls that the Renaissance had built around Europe. In other words, the unique positions of the Judaeo-Christian Bible and Greek-Roman Antique were severely challenged.⁹ Shortly thereafter, William Jones (1746–1794) had noticed the connection of Greek and Latin with the Indian and Iranian languages, while Franz Bopp had published his first comparative grammar in 1833, another revolution in the understanding of historical linguistics and the link between Asia and Europe.¹⁰ Becoming an “Orientalist” was a cutting-edge and a slowly – but increasingly – respected academic option. Among those, we find pioneers such as the German Oxford professor Friedrich Max Müller (1823–1900), who believed that religions needed to be studied within comparative philology, and, in the sense of romanticism, was searching for their origin by means of names and their magic might. Following Humboldt, Müller was further convinced in the link of language and world view, pioneering in translations of Vedic texts in the famous Sacred Books of the East series that he founded.¹¹ Academics such as Jones and later Max Müller seem to have occupied a middle ground within the spectrum of what Said has called “Orientalism,” oscillating between admiration of, in their case, Hindu law and philosophy, yet being confined by their colonial positions and/or social cum intellectual backgrounds.¹²

In this intellectual climate of European academia, Russia occupies a special place in the study of the (however imagined) Orient due to its geographic location, cultural self-understanding, and a geopolitical strategy that was largely devised by Czar Peter. For Russia, Asia might be conceptualised as both self and other, the Orient being both part of Russia as well as something to be tamed.¹³ Within the overall agenda to examine such Orient as well as its artefacts lie the beginnings of the Academy at St. Petersburg. At the Academy, textual collections and research thrived to a great degree on German-speaking scholars at first. Among those “imports,” we find Schmidt.

This paper aims at analysing Schmidt’s contributions to understanding East Asia and Tibet via his pioneering translation of the The Wise and the Foolish, with a focus on the textual works employed. Schiefner’s editorial suggestions and corrections will also be considered, as well as some reception of Schmidt’s work. This article touches upon the historical contexts of Schmidt’s life, along with his conceptualisation of himself as researcher, aiming to add to present knowledge of Buddhist translations in eighteenth- and nineteenth-century Europe. In his oeuvre about Schmidt, Walravens had already pointed out: “It was not the intention of the editor to present an exhaustive appreciation of Schmidt’s philological achievements; this should be done by those inclined from Mongolian or Tibetan Studies – here rather the materials for such undertaking are collected.”¹⁴ To begin such an appreciation is the aim of this paper. Apart from the abovementioned main source-works, materials used are the further writings of Schmidt, some editions of the Tibetan canon, and relevant research about Schmidt as outlined below. This contribution is conceptualised as historical analysis that could be subsumed under intellectual cum cultural history, focusing on the circumstances of production, impact, and reception of a text.

The most substantial recent research about Schmidt stems from Hartmut Walravens, whose overall contributions to this field are remarkable, including a string of publications about Schmidt’s colleagues, such as Schiefner, Klaproth, and many more. Walravens’s Isaak Jakob Schmidt (1779–1847) Leben und Werk (2005) has systematically collected materials published by and about Schmidt. In this book, we find the reprint of Babinger’s (German) account “Isaak Jakob Schmidt” (1919/20) that is regarded by Walravens as the most authoritative investigation to date. Babinger’s substance stems from using a biographical manuscript from Moravian archives at Herrnhut (Herrnhut MS) as well as a few documents from Zeist.¹⁵ Added to this editorial effort are Walravens’s more summarised contributions in the Neue Deutsche Biographie, as well as several articles, such as Bernard Le Calloc’h’s rather interpretative account of Schmidt as founder of Mongolian studies (1989). Of tremendous help were also the publications about the textual collections at the Asiatic Museum in St. Petersburg and their histories by Alexander Zorin and Vladimir Uspensky (see bibliography). Investigations about the intricate textual histories of the The Wise and the Foolish have grown over the years; among the recent works, Ulrike Roesler’s “Materialien zur Redaktionsgeschichte des mDzaṅs blun” was very helpful.

After summarising Schmidt’s life, the textual sources for the Wise and the Foolish in the Tibetan canon are discussed, appreciating Schmidt’s work in light of the conditions at the time. Next to considering Schiefner’s corrections, this paper will briefly elaborate on the further reception of the Wise and the Foolish translation. In conclusion, I shall reflect on Schmidt’s roles, motivations, and contributions along with suggesting future research perspectives.

2. Businessman, Bible translator, and pioneer of Mongolian and Tibetan Studies

In the following, specific features of Schmidt’s career are selected, namely those that help to put his academic and especially Tibetological contributions into historical context.¹⁶ Born in 1779 in Amsterdam into a Moravian family, his pious father Jan Schmidt sent the six-year-old son to Neuwied (situated at the Rhine in today’s Germany) for a Moravian education. When disorderly transformations loomed over central Europe due to the new French Republic being proclaimed, his father took the young Schmidt back to Amsterdam in 1791. However, the shift of power struck Amsterdam earlier than Neuwied, when French troops occupied the Netherlands and founded the Batavian Republic as a French satellite in 1795. Because of the ensuing trade transformation, Schmidt’s family became impoverished. On top of that, Isaak Jakob’s mother passed away sometime in the late 1790s.¹⁷

These events of loss must certainly have made an imprint on the not-yet twenty-year-old Schmidt. When his father was offered a post with the Dutch East-India Company in Java, the young Isaak Jakob studied to become a businessman as well as languages, but the East India Company was dissolved in 1800 – and those hopes were thwarted, too. Finally, the Moravian brotherhood offered Schmidt a position as accountant aid (“Handelsgehilfe”) in the mission in Sarepta, Russia, founded in 1765 (at the Wolga, part of today’s Wolgograd). The German-born Russian empress Katharina II (1762–1796) had invited foreigners, among others Germans, assuring them religious freedom to settle in the steppe areas of the Wolga to cultivate the land and act as buffer to the nomadic tribes. Schmidt accepted the Moravians’ offer, and, after some initial difficulties when arriving in St. Petersburg in 1798 (that I interpret as the first shock when finding himself abroad and having to learn Russian), he made his way to Sarepta.¹⁸

Babinger reports that the general accountant duties in the mission seemed dull to Schmidt, therefore he was delighted to be sent to collect debts for the mission among Kalmyck chieftains. While accomplishing this likely difficult task, remaining there for three years (1804–1806), he used his spare time to enthusiastically learn Kalmyck and Mongolian and study the religion and histories of the nomadic tribes with the help of local religious leaders. Fascinating documents exist from this period.¹⁹ From 1807 to 1812, he then became the chief bookkeeper of the Moravian congregation in Ssaratow, the main business centre at the Wolga, and married Maria Helene Wigand, daughter of Johan Wigand.²⁰

Crucial for Schmidt’s academic impact was certainly his ensuing engagement with the Bible Society (founded in 1812 under the auspices of Alexander I and with the initiative of the Scottish pastor John Paterson, 1776–1855).²¹ After a short stint in Moscow in 1812 (where he, through lucky circumstances, evaded the big fire that nevertheless destroyed his collected texts), Schmidt was called by the Moravians to St. Petersburg. There, the local Bible Society, aware of his talents, made him not only their treasurer but also tasked him with translating the Bible (the Gospel) into Kalmyck and West Mongolian. As a result of efforts he had likely begun earlier in 1809, a Kalmyck translation of Matthew’s Gospel was published in 1815, and he also published a Christian tractate in Kalmyck (that was recently discovered and edited).²²

In 1819, the Bible Society and the conference of the Moravian community decided to release Schmidt from his treasurer obligations to solely dedicate himself to the translation of the Gospel (the Gospel of James published 1820, the Acts in Mongolian and Kalmyck, 1822), upon which he developed a striking productivity not limited to his translation duties. This encompassed the first publication of his scientific notes and discoveries from his time among the Kalmycks, leading to his 1824 work about the older religious, political, and literary history of the Mongols and Tibetans (287 pages).²³ This work attracted first academic attention, leading to a longer exchange of rebuttals in various publications with the genial but apparently difficult Julius Klaproth, who had previously moved from St. Petersburg to Paris. The main bone of contention was that Schmidt had argued the Uyghurs could be traced back to the Tibetans/Tanguts, while Klaproth (rightly) insisted on their relation to the Turks.²⁴

Schmidt’s first scientific publication – based on his notes from the time with the Kalmycks and purportedly the prelude to his translation of the history of the Eastern Mongols (see below) – treats aspects of Tibetan religion. It is therefore worth asking when and how Schmidt learned literary Tibetan. In this first academic publication, he deliberates about the origin of Buddhism in Tibet, but does so mostly via Mongolian accounts. When discussing the origins of the Uyghur, he merely notes the Tibetan names of the twelve animal signs.²⁵ It seems that, at that point, he did not yet command a differentiated knowledge of Tibetan. His first publication on matters Tibetan only was a short essay on the Tibetan script (1832), but it is unsure how much Tibetan he knew at the time, since it does not contain translations.²⁶

But Schmidt, when presenting the first part of his Tibetan grammar in 1836, remarks that he realised early on that the religious language of the Kalmycks and Mongols was Tibetan (the Tibetan canonical texts in turn having been translated from Sanskrit) and that writing had not existed prior to these cultural imports.²⁷ In his foreword to the completed Grammatik der tibetischen Schriftsprache (1839), he then confirms that much material for his book had already been prepared a long time ago, when his Mongolian studies had automatically (“mittels eines Reflexes”) lead to Tibetan. His initial preparations were based on Tibetan-Mongolian glossaries that had arrived (at the Asiatic Museum) from Beijing, but too much remained unclear. He continues with a rant about the unsatisfactory nature of the prior academic publications. His doubts were only clarified when the works of Csoma de Kőrös appeared, which he held in the highest regard and on which he heavily relied.²⁸

Regarding Mongolian, we know from research about his Bible translations that the first Kalmyck version of the Matthew Gospel (published 1815) was distributed and attracted attention among the much further away Buryats. In the following, he collaborated on the Mongol versions with the learned Buryat headmen (Mongolian Saisang) Badma and Nomtu, who commanded literary Mongolian and were invited to St. Petersburg in 1817 (only Badma stayed longer and helped substantially). Indeed, Bawden assumes that Schmidt first generated a Kalmyck version before a Mongolian had been printed.²⁹ We can infer that his (active) knowledge of Mongolian was not that developed at that point.

Be it as it may, Schmidt’s Bible translations and first academic works illustrate how evangelist accountant Schmidt also became a self-educated scholar, and – given the amount and substance of his scientific work – I suspect a scholar with genuine interest in the topics beyond his missionary endeavour. The protestant Bible society, however, was shut down by Czar Nicolas II in 1826, likely due to pressures from the orthodox synod, but the Czar later funded Schmidt’s publications.³⁰

Schmidt’s academic career really took off by becoming a member of the Paris Société Asiatique in 1825 (Walravens remarks that academic opponent Klaproth must have agreed for Schmidt to join) and a corresponding member of the St. Petersburg Academy of Science in 1827. Honoured in such a way, he was recommended to seek academic promotion on his merits at the University of Rostock and was granted the doctorate honoris causa in 1827. As a kind of “debt” to this honorary promotion, he published a work about the relation of the gnostic-theosophical teachings with the religious systems of Buddhism that contained a short account of the teachings of “Buddhaism.”³¹

Maybe his most famous academic contribution was his translation of the Geschichte der Ostmongolen und ihres Fürstenhauses (i.e. Sagang sečen’s Erdeni-yin tobči), a history of the Eastern Mongols, published in 1829. This still frequently used work made a Mongolian historical source available for research for the first time, and Schmidt had been working on it for years.³² The monumental translation earned him his scholarly reputation and was favourably reviewed by the well-known Sinologist Abel-Rémusat. In 1829, he finally became a regular member of the Russian Academy of Sciences and an adjunct for Oriental literature.³³ Then followed major contributions to Mongolian studies, such as a grammar (1831) and a dictionary (1835) including a German and a Russian glossary; works about Buddhism were also issued.

Schmidt’s main Tibetological scholarship was published at the end of this fruitful phase, shortly before the decline of his eyesight and health starting 1842: Schmidt had begun working on the Tibetan grammar (1839) and the dictionary (1841) with the aid of indigenous glossaries, the prior (unsatisfactory) studies, and (possibly) his Buryat informants. But, as mentioned above, the forewords to these publications show that Schmidt needed Csoma’s works to get a whole picture of the language, relying on them to a great degree. But Schmidt’s works also created something new, by expanding the dictionary entries, adjusting their order, and adding details and clarifications to his grammar (especially about what we call today the ergative-instrumental, which was not entirely clear to him then). This made Schmidt's grammar more accessible.³⁴ Not to mention that the Tibetan–German dictionary along with the grammar were not only published in German, but also translated into Russian (grammar: 1839, dictionary: 1843). Finally, The Wise and the Foolish, published in 1843, was his last major work and – in some way – the one fully independent contribution dealing with a Tibetan language source text. It followed shorter publications, such as the inventory of the library with Böthlingk (1847) and a foreword to a table of contents (dkar chag) of the Kanjur (1845), before he passed away in 1847 after a wound infection.³⁵

3. Pioneering work on The Wise and the Foolish and the canonical texts employed

Schmidt outlined his agenda for translating The Wise and the Foolish as twofold: “the publication of the Tibetan literature, which is the main object of this work, has as its aim to provide practical training-material for the study of Tibetan” and would be “connected with the auxiliary aim to help get the reader acquainted with the religious belief of the Buddhaists and its main foundations.”³⁶ It is safe to say that these goals have been achieved over time. This paper first focusses on appreciating the primary aim, to provide study material. For those having learned Tibetan philology in German-speaking contexts, The Wise and the Foolish, with its narratives of the Buddha’s previous births, is quite familiar. This came about not only because of the lively didactic narratives contained (as opposed to the often-terse doctrinal works and their commentaries) but also through Schmidt’s translation. Schmidt had later incorporated two stories into his grammar as readings and Schiefner pointed out in 1852 that his Tibetan learning had started with The Wise and the Foolish.³⁷ Jäschke’s famous English–Tibetan Dictionary (1881) heavily employed the narratives for entries. Some tales have been incorporated into Michael Hahn’s well-known teaching book Einführung in die klassisch tibetische Schriftsprache (used since 1971 until now), such as the story of the Buddha as, in a previous life, prince Mahāsattva who gives up his body to a hungry tigress.³⁸

Schmidt translated a source text from (one of the many) Tibetan canons or collections, the Kanjur. The title in Tibetan (bka’ ’gyur) means by word and definition the “translated words of the Buddha” – it is not related to other Buddhist canons such as the Pāli or Chinese Tripitaka. To discuss the complexities of the various Kanjurs and canonicity would go beyond the scope of this paper, suffice to say that generally two main lineages (the Tshalpa and Thempangma [tshal pa, them spangs ma]), a mixed lineage, and local collections are accepted. Some developed into more standardised block print editions from the fifteenth century onwards. The Kanjur collections that mainly concern us here are the Derge (printed 1733) and Cone xylographs (printed 1721–1731), stemming from a subgroup of the Tshalpa lineage.³⁹

In most Kanjur collections, the Tibetan text at hand is entitled The Sūtra of the Wise and the Foolish (mDzangs blun zhes bya ba’i mdo).⁴⁰ Schmidt’s work uses a Tibetan title that connects it with the heading of the first chapter, The Sūtra of the Wise and the Foolish, Taught in Many Similes (’Dzangs blun sna tshogs bstan pa’i mdo), the reasons of which are outlined below.

Schmidt could not yet have been aware of details regarding the complex textual origins. To date, we know that the scripture originated from avadāna narratives (virtuous acts [of the Buddha]) that Chinese pilgrims from Liang-chou heard in Central Asian Khotan in the middle of the fifth century, when they took part in an enormous quinquennial gathering to pay respect to the monks inhabiting the local monasteries (at least as far as a Chinese record is concerned). In his detailed analysis, Mair presumes some Indian textual basis, likely a Khotanised form of Northwest Prakrit, possibly accompanied by oral explanations in Khotanese. Thus, he suggests that, despite their Central Asiatic origin, the stories are fundamentally Indian. This finally led to the assembly of a Chinese scripture redacted around 445 C.E., the Xianyu jing, The Sūtra of the Wise and the Foolish.⁴¹ The Xianyu jing was translated from Chinese into Tibetan during the ninth century by the translator ‘Gos Chos grub.⁴²

Since the vast majority of works in the Tibetan canon are of Indic origin (Sanskrit or Prakrit), the translation from Chinese of The Wise and the Foolish within the Tibetan canon is slightly unusual. The research of texts translated from Chinese has only recently been opened; Silk estimates that around 37 works of Kanjur (that encompasses 750–1100 texts depending on the edition used) were rendered from Chinese.⁴³ While this offers certainly a different linguistic perspective on the Tibetan translation, still, as pointed out by Mair above, the narratives contained are probably of Indian nature.

The transmission history of this corpus is further confounded because of textual variants with diverging content: the Chinese Tripitaka contains versions with 69 stories, while the Korean edition of the Tripitaka has a variant with 62. Most Tibetan canons – our main concern in this paper – contain a version with 51 chapters (the version used by Schmidt), but some have 52.⁴⁴ Schmidt and Schiefner also had Mongolian and Kalmyck renderings at their disposal. Indeed, in a truly cross-cultural dissemination, The Wise and the Foolish was translated from Tibetan into Mongolian in 1586 by Shiregütü Güüshi Choji from a Tibetan version containing 52 stories bearing the same title (Siluɣun onol-tu sudur) but later acquired the more popular label Üliger-ün dalai, “Ocean of similes,” under which it found entry into the Mongolian Kanjur. Dzaya Pandita rendered a Tibetan version with 51 stories into Oirat Clear Script in 1655, another independent translation followed in the beginning of the seventeenth century.⁴⁵ Kalmyck versions were also produced. Additionally, some storylines surfaced in different variants in other instances of Buddhist literature. We are thus dealing with a textual corpus of considerable complexity that certainly speaks to the popularity of the stories.

To appreciate its earliest translation by Schmidt, we must look at his introductory remarks and available textual sources back in the day, most importantly the Tibetan Kanjur. During the mid-nineteenth century, a readily available complete Tibetan Canon was a rarity in European research libraries. The Asiatic Museum in St. Petersburg was one of the few (if not the only) places that owned an entire collection of a version of the Kanjur canon.⁴⁶ Yet, to determine which canonical edition and text Schmidt employed for his pioneering work is somewhat challenging. In the foreword to his 318-page edition, Schmidt introduced the Tibetan text translated as stemming from a hundred-volume (printed) edition of the Kanjur collected by Baron Paul Schilling von Canstadt (1786–1837), inventor and Orientalist, a corpus which the Russian emperor had acquired for the Asiatic Museum. Schilling was apparently sympathetic of Buddhism and had gathered two massive collections amounting to 3000 texts in Chinese, Manchu, Mongolian, and Tibetan from Buryat Lamas on his journeys to Eastern Siberia. This corpus was vital in the history of collection of Asiatic texts for the Asiatic Museum (and Schilling donated duplicates to the Institut de France).⁴⁷

In his foreword, Schmidt further informs us about the structure of the “printed volume,” explaining that The Wise and the Foolish would make up most of the volume, only added by the wishing prayer Aryabhadracāryapraṇidhānarāja.⁴⁸ He also mentioned that, while some individual texts of the Kanjur were available, he did not find any Tibetan variants of The Wise and the Foolish at the Asiatic Museum, but located two Mongolian versions that diverted from the Tibetan in selected passages and the number of stories. Schmidt further noticed a Kalmyck rendering, quite similar to the Tibetan, and thus assumed that the Mongolian might have gone back to another Tibetan edition (page XVI). Since one chapter in the Tibetan had been missing (as he was dealing with a version of 51 chapters), he added the chapter from a Mongolian edition (with 52 chapters) along with a translation (pages XVII–XXXI). This missing chapter contains the Sūjata legend that later surfaced in some other canonical and extracanonical writings.⁴⁹

What Tibetan Kanjur variant has Schmidt translated? Schmidt himself and the famous Sanskrit scholar Otto Böthlingk produced a catalogue about the Tibetan collection in the Asiatic Museum a few years later, in 1847, mainly based on the writings collected by the Baron Schilling. According to this list, we are dealing with a Narthang edition of the Kanjur, red print on local Tibetan paper, entry numbers 1–101.⁵⁰ However, according to recent research about the St. Petersburg collection, including the latest catalogues of the works available, the version acquired by Schilling was a Derge Kanjur, more specifically a “red” print of the Derge edition. It was acquired by the Asiatic Museum in 1843, stemming from Buryat Lamas, who had given it to Schilling in 1832.⁵¹ Zorin offers the most plausible explanation for this confusion: Schilling brought a Derge edition from Buryatia but thought it was the Narthang edition and Schmidt and Böhtlingk simply repeated this mistake in their catalogue.⁵² I might add the suggestion that, since Csoma de Kőrös had already published about a canon printed in Narthang in the late 1830s (which Csoma perceived as the only canon), others may automatically have expected this to be a standard and were more likely to not question Schilling’s prior mistake. Yet, we do not know the actual reason why Schilling mislabelled the Kanjur.⁵³

However, there exists an account by Schilling of the Kanjur index (labelled as Narthang Kanjur) that Böhtlingk, to his own regret, only discovered after Schmidt and Böhtlingk himself had issued their list of books at the library of St. Petersburg. In this account, Schilling identifies the Kanjur acquired as printed in Narthang. But he became aware of four different editions of the Kanjur, three located among the Buryats: the first stemming from Chone in 108 volumes, the second from Kumbum (sKu ‘bum) in 102 volumes, and a third printed in western Tibetan Narthang in 101 volumes (catalogue numbers 1–101). From a fourth edition Schilling had obtained fourteen volumes about the highest wisdom (catalogue numbers 118–131). Schilling’s collection from the Buryats further contained around twenty lists (dkar chag) of the canon, including the Cone and Narthang Kangyur and Tengyur, and the Derge Kanjur.⁵⁴ He may have been one of the first researchers who became aware of various Kanjur editions and was certainly the first to present a systematic index. However, the knowledge about differing editions had not yet sunk in among scholars and it seems likely that neither Schmidt nor Schiefner were aware of such detail, given their remarks (see below).

The Derge print was therefore the only complete collection available at the Asiatic Museum in the 1840s, while other Kanjur collections arrived later, the next being the Beijing print: A Russian mission was sent to Beijing in 1840, acquired the Beijing Kanjur, and remained there for ten years before the Kanjur was moved to the ministry of foreign affairs and was passed to the Asiatic Museum in the 1860s. A member of this mission was the congenial (but apparently thus far neglected) Russian Buddhologist Vasiliy P. Vasilyev (1818–1900), who came to St. Petersburg when the chair the Oriental Department of Kazan Univesity was moved to St. Petersburg.⁵⁵ However, Schiefner referred to other works from Beijing already earlier: in his corrections and additions to The Foolish and the Wise, he mentioned glossaries that had recently arrived at the Asiatic Museum from Beijing.⁵⁶

Coming back to the Kanjur version used by Schmidt, one needs to consider Schiefner’s introductory remarks in his corrections. According to Schiefner, Schmidt did not use any print, but based his publication on an Abschrift (“written copy,” hereafter Schilling Ms) organised by the Baron Schilling von Canstadt of a print (and Schiefner does not identify said print). Schiefner considered this Schilling Ms “not actually quite correct,”⁵⁷ but we will see that it was likely a quite correct copy simply going back to another Kanjur edition. Schiefner also observed that the Schilling Ms deviated from the block print, which he considered generally less corrupt and thus preferable. He identified the block print volume of the great Kanjur collection available in the Asiatic Museum as volume 74, labelled with the Tibetan letter a, not giving any further details.⁵⁸ If we look at the arrangement of Kanjur editions known to exist in St. Petersburg, the volume label (vol. 74, a) fits with the Derge edition printed in 1733.

Schiefner had also compared Schmidt’s printed publication with its assumed basis, the Schilling Ms, and found that Schmidt has silently changed the orthography, likely justified through the rules introduced by Csoma de Kőrös. Schiefner admitted that Schmidt must have resorted to the Schilling Ms due to his declined eyesight, which had made it difficult for him to decipher the print’s red letters on the grey-brown pages. Schiefner also used the Mongolian version available at the Asiatic Museum for comparison. The main tasks that Schiefner assigned himself to were to present better readings, discuss educationally informative variants, note the difference in the recensions, and correct orthographical mistakes.⁵⁹ In sum, he compared two Tibetan text variants and one Mongolian work to create a critical edition (albeit without clearly outlined principles), with apparatus and annotations. Unknowingly, he produced one of the first critical Tibetan editions using two Kanjur witnesses.

Although Schiefner gives no further detail about the Schilling Ms, surveying the then-available instances of the Foolish and the Wise, only one work fits the description in Böthlingk and Schmidt’s catalogue, namely entry 238, page 9: “‘Der Weise und der Thor’ Handschrift in ledernem Einband, Siehe Kanjur B. 74, No. 339.” Indeed, in the recent inventory of the collection, this text can be located, identified by the editors as a manuscript copy of a Chone edition stemming from the collection of Schilling. It has the same slightly different title that Schmidt used (’Dzangs blun sna tshogs bsten pa’i mdo) and the leather cover has the French description “DSANG LUN / ou / ULIGOUROUN DALAI / EN TIBETAIN.”⁶⁰ The structure of the volume of this text and Schmidt’s description also conform, i.e. the Wise and the Foolish is followed by the Aryabhadracāryapraṇidhānarāja. Comparing them with the Kanjur editions that are now available, the structure generally points to the Chone printed edition. However, the first work that is found in the printed Chone volume (and most other editions) is the Karmaśataka (Tib. Las rgya tham pa) – and this is not extant in the Schilling Ms. Given the structure, the readings (see the following paragraphs), and the cataloguers’ assessment, we are thus likely dealing with a partial handwritten copy of a Chone volume. Regrettably, access to the actual manuscript in St. Peterburg was difficult to arrange during the research for this paper but is an urgent future task.

Regarding the readings, the most striking semblance of Schmidt’s text to the Chone edition is a missing chunk at the beginning of the text, a piece Schiefner added from the block print, confirming Schiefner was correcting with a Derge edition.⁶¹ There are various other instances where Schmidt’s text conforms with Chone (p. 3, line 10: rlags) and Schiefner’s references to the block print with Derge (p. 3: glags). Minor doubts remain, though: for example, neither Schmidt nor Schiefner have noted that the text was rendered from Chinese. Schmidt could not have done so, since the Schilling Ms simply concludes with the peculiar title ’Dzangs blun sna tshogs bstan pa’i mdo (that here deviates from its supposed Cone origin). But the Derge print concludes with “it appears to be translated from China,” which goes unmentioned by Schiefner.⁶² Furthermore, in rare occasions, Schiefner’s reading suggestions to the block print do not always conform with Derge exactly.⁶³ I would prefer to dismiss those as minor errors of the editor Schiefner, since it is very unlikely that the print was not from Derge. But to confirm the Schilling Ms (with slightly different title) stems from a Chone print, I have roughly cross-checked various textual instances provided by Schmidt with those found in the comparative Kanjur dPe sdur ma. I could not extend this to the many of the not so easily available Kanjur lineages, nor could I examine every instance due to the constraints of this research. But the likelihood that lesser-known Kanjur works might have been available at the Asiatic Museum is low because the catalogue of the extant texts suggests otherwise. The Beijing Kanjur supposedly had not arrived at the Asiatic Museum yet, either.

We can thus conclude with emerging certainty that Schmidt employed a manuscript copy, Schilling Ms, going back to a Chone edition and collected by Schilling from the Buryats or arranged at his behest.⁶⁴ Schmidt then copied this sometimes imperfectly, and added silent corrections. Schiefner then compared Schmidt’s translation with a block print from the Derge canon, also considering the Schilling Ms and some Mongolian editions.⁶⁵ From the remarks of both Schmidt and Schiefner, we can glean that there was simply no awareness of the multitude of Kanjur editions that existed. But Schmidt had already started noticing slight differences in the arrangement of the Asiatic Museum Kanjur and Csoma’s publications.⁶⁶ Schiefner obviously overlooked, or did not connect his findings to, Schilling’s earlier remarks published in 1847.

Astonishingly, Schmidt himself nowhere mentioned the Schilling Ms, but declared to have used the printed canon available at the Asiatic Museum! If Schiefner with his intimate knowledge of the library and his predecessor was correct – and there is no reason to believe he was not – Schmidt was not entirely honest with the usage of his textual bases. While Schmidt suggested to have employed the block print, he used a manuscript copy of a print that was even from a different Kanjur edition. One wonders whether this was just scholarly carelessness. Despite him being an autodidact, I find it unlikely that, at the end of his career, he neglected such as basic philological duty. Did he intentionally “hide” his sources? Or might he have been ashamed to admit his declining eyesight, which is, after all, the major sense organ for a textual scholar? The foreword to The Wise and the Foolish, however, explicitly mentions his ailments:

To me, whom a mass of what belongs to this literature is known from my own experience, but who, this notwithstanding, does not at all know its vast extent and limits yet, – the rich content of only what I do know is present in front of my mind’s eyes. But my ageing organism stands in the way to, even with the best intentions, continue further and deeper with the exploration of such [literature], and demands me to stand still. A quickly progressing decline of my eyesight, with an otherwise unhindered sharpness of memory and mind, forces me – if God will only temporarily – to halt my studies and to lay down the pen.⁶⁷

He then expressed his fear that this might be one of his last works.

While the above statement is imbued with some humbleness, Le Calloc’h, unaware of this confusion of Kanjur sources, passed overall judgement on Schmidt’s personality based on his interactions with scientific colleagues and the English Bible translators. Le Calloc’h infers problematic character traits in Schmidt (défauts de charactère) such as a general lack of humbleness, paired with sometimes erratic behaviour when contested.⁶⁸ However, we are dealing with different stages in Schmidt’s life and with a document written from an egophoric perspective (Schmidt’s foreword) versus Le Calloc’h’s analysis of scholarly correspondences and reports. To cite support for Le Calloc’h’s thesis, Jäschke finds Schmidt’s tone via-a-vis Csoma’s achievements – albeit full of praise – as one of “imitating a master commending a pupil,” as well as unwarranted and offensive.⁶⁹ It is hard to gauge what could have been the cause for this missing information about the Kanjur source text used, and simple forgetfulness seems unlikely. But to pass pronounced judgements of personality, a wider range of sources and their sound interpretation should be considered first.

Regarding the treatment of the material, we can still deduce that Schmidt was slightly textually naive, even for his pioneering days; on the other hand, a critical edition had never been his aim. Furthermore, Schmidt has undertaken silent corrections of the main witness employed based on his understanding of grammar, such as deleting the ergative for a genitive.⁷⁰ Schiefner, who had studied Oriental languages in Berlin and taught classics, was certainly a linguist cum philologist of a different calibre, using all tools available during his time to the fullest: he points out grammatical issues, detects and corrects silent emendations, refers to related passages in the same text or Kanjur in general, references to the Mongolian, and is aware of the current literature, such as Burnouf’s Introduction a l’histoire de Buddhisme indien (Paris: Maison Neuve, 1844).⁷¹ Given the historical context, this was impressive. We need to remember that the methods of philologist pioneer Karl Lachmann (1793–1852) had only then begun to gain influence.

4. Remarks about the stories in The Foolish and the Wise and their reception

Let us now briefly come back to the secondary aim of Schmidt’s translation, namely, to help inform the reader about the Buddhist doctrines contained. While Schiefner’s corrections are indispensable for the philologist and learner of Tibetan, the overall gist of the educational narratives and their sometimes humorous and often drastic events are still easily graspable through Schmidt’s work, despite some mistakes and incorrectly transcribed names. The Sūjata legend (translated from the Mongolian), for example, vividly tells the story of how the Buddha – in a previous live as a prince – donated the flesh of his body to ensure the survival of his parents. After having been tried by Indra, prince Sūjata gets healed and the conflict within the kingdom is resolved to the family’s favour (while this prince became the Buddha at the time the story is supposedly told, the parents incarnated as the Buddha’s parents). The sense of the stories such as past heroic deeds of the Buddha, or the illustration of his former skilful interactions such as with the householder Yigpachen (chapter XL) can be gained well through a generally understandable German that renders sometimes complex Tibetan formulations.⁷²

Selected stories from Schmidt’s The Wise and the Foolish, such as how the Mahāsattva gave his body to a hungry tigress (chapter II), or about the Nun Utpala (chapter XXV), have been published in Tibetanische Märchen, a collection of “Tibetan Fairy Tales” in 1923.⁷³ One hundred and thirty-five years after the initial publication, Roland Beer has redacted Schmidt’s translation for re-publication in 1978 (with some changes and added figures). This book aimed at wider dissemination, and, testifying to its demand, was re-printed in 1981.⁷⁴ While a differentiated reception analysis is still to be done, one can deduce that these narratives illustrating karma and rebirth permeated German-speaking cultures at some low level.

Remarkable for the time written and Schmidt’s Moravian background are also his introductory remarks to The Wise and the Foolish (vol. 1) about the Buddhist doctrines expressed in the stories. Building on his earlier research and publications about Buddhism, Schmidt illustrates – with some precision – the workings of karma as cause and effect, and how Buddhists strive for liberation from the cycle of existence. He describes the Buddhist goal with the peculiar idea of absorption into the “Buddhaist monas” or “abstract monas” that he somehow equates with the Buddha (who then relates to beings through the three buddha-bodies) and that would be outside the comprehension of the unliberated mind (pages XXXII–XXXIV). Schmidt’s foreword even complains, rather accurately, about other scholars’ wrong understanding of Mahāyāna philosophy as nihilistic (page XXXV). The Buddhaist monas is most likely an allusion to Leibniz’s late metaphysical idea of the monad, a rather complex theory that one might summarise with a kind of idealistic antithesis to realism. Leibniz had admired Peter the Great and was invited to his court for the first time in 1711, and he had reportedly suggested to open a “college of sciences,” thus playing a role in the creation of the St. Petersburg Academy.⁷⁵

5. Concluding reflections: Schmidt’s Tibetological contributions and future perspectives

Schmidt was a crucial pioneer for understanding the East in the German-speaking world along with Russia in a first formative period of the field later termed “Tibetology.”⁷⁶ Pointed to Tibetan via Kalmyck and Mongolian scriptures, Schmidt relied on Csoma de Kőrös’s grammar and dictionary as a key for his own linguistic understanding as well as his German grammar and dictionary. This once again cements the Hungarian’s fundamental impact on European beginnings of Tibetology. Meanwhile, Schmidt’s work disseminated and advanced this knowledge, helping colleagues and learners, thus paving the way for the more differentiated dictionary of Jäschke (whose works have been studied at length by John Bray).⁷⁷ As pointed out by his earlier biographer, for Mongolian and Tibetan Studies, Schmidt played a role of a pioneer who translated first works and provided dictionaries and grammars. While Schmidt’s linguistic contributions would become outdated soon, his translation work would become long lasting.

Schmidt’s translation of The Foolish and the Wise, as pioneering as it may have been, was indeed his most long-living academic contribution next to the German rendition of the Mongolian history by Sagang sec̆en. Schiefner’s philological remarks “secured” this achievement and added to the substance of what can also be considered one of the pair’s most impactful outputs. Since its subject is a work from the Tibetan canon with presumably Indic origin that spread in Centra Asia, these translated stories likewise constituted an early contribution to the study of Buddhism, particularly its narratives, that gained some wider reception. This paper could only scratch the surface in evaluating and contextualising this colossal work, clarifying the canonical and textual sources of The Foolish and the Wise and shedding light on the main motivations for Schmidt to publish this scripture.

This investigation offers the interpretation of Schmidt as a scholar with some shortcomings of the autodidact, with a yet commendable understanding of Tibetan grammar, a good grasp Buddhist concepts, and certainly a talent for pioneering endeavours. His forewords and communications surrounding his works speak to a deep interest and concern for the advancement of Oriental studies, particularly Mongolian and Tibetan. Although it is unlikely that he had given up his Moravian piety, the last fourteen years of his life, from 1829, are clearly devoted to research. Through publishing on the Mongolian version of the Gesar epic, Schmidt also created the basis for attention for non-Buddhist aspects of Tibetan culture. Possibly, more genuine interest in autochthonous Tibetan literature may only have started with Jäschke’s introduction of Milarepa’s songs and hagiography.⁷⁸

At St. Petersburg, Schmidt belonged to a stream of ‘imported’ scholars who possibly considered themselves more German/Dutch/Baltic than Russian and employed German as their academic language of choice, although some of their works appeared in Russian. Heissig believes that Schmidt’s everyday language remained German, too, although he became fluent in Russian.⁷⁹ It is plausible to assume that Schmidt moved in rather closed cycles of the German-speaking Moravians (also his marriage was to Moravian Helena Wigand), the English-speaking Bible society, and exchanged with academics who published in German or French. Zorin outlines how, with the death of Schiefner, the initial phase of German-speaking erudites at the Asiatic Museum came to an end. And while later Buddhologists and Tibetologists bore German-sounding names, such as Obermiller, Rosenberg, or Oldenburg, they engaged with Russian society in a different, more immersive, way.⁸⁰ However, in his publications and forewords, Schmidt did express his joy at the recent progress of Oriental Studies and kept emphasising its strategical importance for the Russian empire as well as its academic value (whatever may have been his motivations, one among them was likely to please the revered Sergej Uvarov, president of the Academy, 1818–1855, and minister for national education, 1818–1849).⁸¹ While he could certainly not escape his social cum religious background and the overall methodological paradigms and attitudes of his time, a genuine dedication to research and appreciation of Buddhist, Mongolian, and Tibetan cultures is visible.

Although documentations about Schmidt’s life and works have been produced, particularly through the oeuvre of Walravens and the Kalmyck letters published by Krueger and Service, much is to be done in future studies. First, analysis and interpretation of the documented works is the most obvious aim. For such investigations, one could focus on different perspectives, such as Schmidt’s activity among the Moravians, his roles at the St. Petersburg Academy, or his contributions to the subjects of Mongolian and Tibetan studies. All of these have been carried out only in initial studies or in the frame of broader projects, such as the institutional history of the St. Petersburg Academy or translations of the Bible into Mongolian languages. A comprehensive, systematic, and critical study of Schmidt’s life in all is aspects would also be an extremely useful but certainly daunting task.

Regarding The Wise and the Foolish, it is indeed a valid question what form an up-to-date translation or study should take. The enormous project of 84.000 to translate the Derge edition of the Kanjur (www.84.000.co) currently encompasses rendering a version of this scripture, too, although this has not been completed. That should certainly lead to an updated English translation compared to Schmidt’s in terms of terminology and language. The most imperative undertaking for the Buddhologist researcher, however, will be to first acquire all Tibetan versions (canonical and extracanonical), assess them, and compare them with the Mongolian and Chinese editions. On top of that, parallel narratives in other canonical works need to be considered, as well as the Central Asian and Indic antecedents. Meaning to follow up on three main areas: (1) Roesler’s philological cum comparative work on the Sūjata legend with similar research undertaken on other of the many stories/passages; (2) to continue with Baruch’s initial comparison (that was limited to one legend) of the Tibetan, Chinese, and Mongolian versions; and (3) complete Mair’s work on the linguistic and textual antecedents of the Sūtra, including central Asian languages such as Khotanese, Sogdian, and Tocharian.⁸² What is more, the meaning, prevalence, and reception of the stories in Buddhist literatures as well as in European languages (through translation and publication) would make for good research questions. This would allow to learn about the fluidity of canons along with transcultural entanglements. A differentiated study about the history of Tibetan canons in libraries outside the Tibetan cultural sphere seems also imperative. For the learner of Tibetan or the general reader, however, Schmidt’s translation may remain valid for some more years, and possibly live even longer as the only translation into German.

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank Dr. Alexander Zorin (Hebrew University, Jerusalem), Dr. Markus Viehbeck (University of Vienna), and Dr. Volker Caumanns (Leipzig) for sharing materials and insights.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Additional information

Notes on contributors

Jim Rheingans

Jim Rheingans is Professor of Tibetan Studies at the University of Vienna.

Notes

1 Conventions: For Tibetan terms and names, a phonetic transcription is used, but the first instance is provided in the Wylie transliteration system.

2 Babinger, “Isaak Jakob Schmidt”, 17.

3 Uspensky (“Keynote”, 1) argues that the St. Petersburg collection should best be framed as the literature of Buddhism in Tibetan and Mongolian languages.

4 Zorin, Tibetan Studies in Russia, 17. Zorin (ibid. 15–17) outlines how through the Czar’s efforts one of the early Tibetan texts from an abandoned Dzungar monastery, “Sem’ Palat”, became likely the most famous Tibetan folio ever published in the West.

5 Zorin, “Tibetan Studies in Russia”, 64; Uspensky, “Keynote”, 2–3. Cf. Heissig, “Zum Anteil deutscher Gelehrter an der russischen Orientalistik”. For scholars of the initial phase before founding the Asiatic Museum, also see Zorin, Tibetan Studies in Russia, 13–43; Walravens, “Some Notes on Early Tibetan Studies”, 150–2, 156–9. A fascinating account of the first Tibetan texts in St. Petersburg is provided by Zorin, “The History of the First Tibetan Texts”.

6 Zorin, “Tibetan Studies in Russia”, 64, and more extensively in Zorin, Tibetan Studies in Russia, 35–57, has systematised this period following the intitial phase as “19th Century Classics”.

7 Róna-Tas, “Review”, 92.

8 Walravens, “Some Notes on Early Tibetan Studies”, 150, has coined the term “Proto-Tibetology”, and presents an excellent overview of contributors of this period, including Schmidt. For a brief overview on some of the (still scattered) literature concerning the history of Tibetan Studies in Europe, see Walravens, “Some Notes on Early Tibetan Studies”, 149; Rheingans “Heinrich A. Jäschkes deutschsprachige Pionierarbeiten”, 123–6; Kapstein “L’oubli des Russes”, 80, note 5. For an overview of Jäschke’s achievements and activity as Morvaian Bible translator, also see Bray, “Heinrich August Jaeschke” and Bray, “Language, Tradition”. A comprehensive account remains a desideratum.

9 Kippenberg, Die Entdeckung der Religionsgeschichte, 44–5. Kippenberg quotes Raymond Schwab, Vie d’Anquetil-Duperron, suivie des usages civils er religieux des Parses par Anquetil-Duperron (Paris, 1934).

10 Wüst, “Bopp, Franz”.

11 Kippenberg, Die Entdeckung der Religionsgeschichte, esp. 64–73.

12 For Jones, see Arnold, William Jones: Orientalist, especially 108–16; for Müller, see van den Bosch, Friedrich Max Müller.

13 For more detail, see Schimmelpennick van der Oye, Russian Orientalism, 1–11 et passim. He finds limited use in Said’s concept of Orientalism for the case of Russia. I have discussed elsewhere that Said’s ideas need to be rather differentiated when considering the Tibetan cultural sphere (cf. Rheingans, “De-Imagining Tibet”).

14 Walravens, Isaak Jakob Schmidt, 11 (my English translation in text): “Es war nicht die Absicht des Herausgebers, eine umfassende Würdigung der philologischen Leistungen Schmidts zu geben; dies sollte von berufener mongolistischer oder tibetologischer Seite geschehen – hier sind vielmehr die Materialien dazu zusammengestellt”.

15 Babinger, “Isaak Jakob Schmidt”, 14, note 3.

16 In the following, Babinger’s “Isaak Jakob Schmidt” is mainly employed, added with references to other works where applicable. As pointed out, to re-evaluate Schmidt’s life, the Herrnhut MS, the (already published) letters in Kalmyck, and archival sources in Russia should be considered. I aim to revisit the Herrnhut MS in a future study. Also, the pointed analysis of specific aspects of his life is still wanting.

17 Babinger, “Isaak Jakob Schmidt”, 16.

18 Babinger, “Isaak Jakob Schmidt”, 17; for the date of his arrival in Russia, see the reprinted account from the St. Peterburg brethren in Walravens, Isaak Jakob Schmidt, 113.

19 Krueger and Service, Kalmyk Old-Script Documents of Isaak Jacob Schmidt 1800–1810.

20 Babinger, “Isaak Jakob Schmidt”, 17.

21 On the founding of the Bible Society and Schmidt’s involvement, also see Rosén, “Translation History”, 20.

22 See the first works by Schmidt as outlined in Walravens, Issak Jakob Schmidt, 31–2. Schmidt’s Kalmyck, A Tract for the Buryats, was discovered by Walravens through a catalogue of the German Oriental Society and translated by Bawden in 2009.

23 Schmidt, Forschungen im Gebiete der Mongolen und Tibeter.

24 The discussion with Klaproth, in which Klaproth composed a rebuttal, is summarised in Babinger, “Isaak Jakob Schmidt”, 19–21. Schmidt then answered with his own response.

25 Schmidt, Forschungen im Gebiete der Mongolen und Tibeter, 196–206, the Tibetan names for the years on 107.

26 Schmidt, “Über den Ursprung der tibetischen Schrift”.

27 See also Schmidt’s lecture held in 1836 when presenting the first part of the Tibetan grammar: Schmidt, “Begründung des tibetischen Sprachstudiums in Rußland”, 28.

28 Schmidt, Grammatik der tibetischen Sprache, X–XI.

29 Bawden, “The English Missionaries in Siberia”, 9–10. Bawden also points out that first a Kalmyck script for printing had to be arranged with the help of Paterson and how this translation, being the first printed version in Kalmyck, is of significance since it could be distributed. Cf. Rosén, “Translation History”, 21–3.

30 For the funding of the famous history of the Mongols, see Heissig, “Sagang sečen und sein Übersetzer”, 680.

31 Babinger, “Isaak Jakob Schmidt”, 24. The respective publication is Schmidt, Über die Verwandtschaft der gnostisch-theosophischen Lehren.

32 On this work and the circumstances, see especially Heissig, “Sagang sečen und sein Übersetzer”.

33 Babinger, “Isaak Jakob Schmidt”, 24.

34 Le Calloc’h, “Isaac-Jacob Schmidt, fondateur”, 14, remarks that Schmidt’s Tibetan grammar was more accessible than Csoma’s up to French Orientalist Focaux.

35 Babinger, “Isaak Jakob Schmidt”, 27–28; for his death, 30.

36 Schmidt, Der Weise und der Thor, XV: “zur tibetischen Literatur, welche den Gegenstand dieses Werkes bildet, indem die Herausgabe desselben zum Zweck hat, den Studien der tibetischen als praktisches Uebungsmittel behülflich zu seyn”. Second quote in Schmidt, Der Weise und der Thor, XXXI: “mit dem Nebenzweck verbunden, den Leser mit dem religiösen Glauben der Buddhaisten un den Hauptgrundlagen dessen bekannt zu machen”.

37 Schmidt, Grammatik der tibetischen Sprache, 217–47.

38 Schiefner, Ergänzungen und Berichtigungen, 1; Hahn, Lehrbuch, story reading for chapters 14–18, Lesestück I.

39 For an overview-essay on the Kanjur, see Tauscher, “Kanjur”; also see Eimer, “A Note on the History of the Tibetan Kanjur”.

40 A minor title variant that we find is ’Dzangs blun, for example in the Chone Kanjur (that also Schmidt likely used, see below). The standard meaning of ’dzangs is rather “to exhaust, exhausted (zad pa)” (s.v. Krang dbyi sun et al., Bod rgya), also stated by Schiefner based on Tibetan glossaries (Schiefner, Ergänzungen und Berichtigungen, 2). In some later dictionaries, ’dzangs has become a synonym for mdzangs, “the highest, wise, learned”, which could even stem from this title variant in the canon.

41 Mair, “The Linguistic and Textual Antecedents”, especially the conclusion 16–18. Fragments were also found at the Silk Road city Dunhuang, cf. Terjék, “Fragments of the Tibetan Sutra”.

42 Roesler, “Materialien zur Redaktionsgeschichte des mDzaṅs blun”, 405–6, note 3. A Mongolian xylograph (Beijing 1714) has been translated in 1981: Frye, The Sutra of the Wise and the Foolish.

43 Silk, “Chinese Sūtras”, 231–8; added by a list unidentified and spurious cases. Silk mentions that findings at this stage are still preliminary. Cf. Li, “A Survey of Tibetan Sūtras”. For the overall number of works and the structure of the Kanjur, see Tauscher, “Kanjur”, 104–5; Eimer, Ein Jahrzehnt, 12.

44 Baruch, “Le cinquante-deuxième chapitre”, had found the missing tale in two Tibetan texts. Cf. Roesler, “Materialien zur Redaktionsgeschichte des mDzaṅs blun”, 406. The discrepancy of the Chinese versions has first been pointed out by Takakusu, “Tales of the Wise Man and the Fool”.

45 Wallace, “Local Literatures: Mongolia”, 889.

46 From the works of Csoma de Körös, who worked in Calcutta at the Asiatic Society of Bengal, it is evident that he employed the Narthang Kanjur for his first pioneering study. See Csoma de Kőrös, “Analysis of the Dulva”, published in 1836; cf. Tauscher, “Kanjur”, 108.

47 For Baron Schilling von Canstatt, see Uspensky, “Keynote”, 5; Walravens, “Some Notes on Early Tibetan Studies”, 161–3.

48 Schmidt, Der Weise und der Tor, vol. 1, XVI.

49 Roesler, “Materialien zur Redaktionsgeschichte des mDzaṅs blun”, discusses the redaction history of that Tibetan story with the aid of five textual witnesses (introduced on 407–8).

50 Böthlingk and Schmidt, “Verzeichniss”, 3–4 (entry 1–101).

51 Uspensky, “Keynote”, 5. Zorin et al., Catalogue of Texts of the Tibetan Buddhist Canon Vol.1, 11–12 (Russian), 511 (English). A detailed description of Schilling’s collection activity is found in Zorin, Tibetan Studies in Russia, 39–42.

52 I would like to thank Dr. Alexander Zorin (Hebrew University) for sharing his knowledge about the St. Petersburg collection and helping to clarify the contradiction of Narthang vs. Derge edition as first printed Kanjur at the Asiatic Museum (e-mail communication, February 2023).

53 Zorin, Tibetan Studies in Russia, 40, notes 71 and 72. In note 72, we find hints about the location Buryat monastery that provided the Kanjur.

54 Schilling, “Bibliothéque Bouddhique”, 321, note 1. He notes the existence of different Kanjur versions on 332 and expounds on them in more detail on 334. Schilling’s account contains interesting details about his travels. For the lists of the canon, see Zorin, Tibetan Studies in Russia, 41.

55 Zorin et al., Catalogue of Texts of the Tibetan Buddhist Canon Vol.1, 510–1. On Vasilyev, also see Uspensky, “Keynote”, 5–6; Kapstein, “L’oubli des Russes”.

56 Schiefner, Ergänzungen und Berichtigungen, 2–3.

57 Schiefner, Ergänzungen und Berichtigungen, 1: “nicht sehr correcte Abschrift”.

58 Schiefner, Ergänzungen und Berichtigungen, 2.

59 Schiefner, Ergänzungen und Berichtigungen, 1–2.

60 Zorin et al., Catalogue of Texts of the Tibetan Buddhist Canon Vol.3, 375–6, entry 1203. This volume of the catalogue treats separate texts and collections (as opposed to complete canonical collections) and has grouped different versions of the Foolish and the Wise, this entry being one that follows the Chone edition of the Kanjur (an English summary with Tibetan letters of these texts is found in 546). This confirms the entry by Böthlingk and Schmidt as AM = Asiatic Museum No. 238.

61 Missing after Schmidt, Der Weise und der Thor, vol. 1, 3 line 16: skyabs mi mdzad/ bcom ldan ’das ni sngon bskal pa grangs ma mchis pa’das pa’i pha rol na. Like with Schmidt, the passage is also missing in the Chone edition, “mDzangs blun zhes bya ba’i mdo” (bKa’ ’gyur co ne), fol. 146b, line 2. This passage does exist in the Derge edition, remarked by Schiefner accordingly, inserted and translated in Ergänzungen und Berichtigungen, 81–4. The parallel in Derge, “mDzangs blun zhes bya ba’i mdo” (bKa’ ’gyur sde dge) goes on after bcom ldan ’das ni sngon bskal pa grangs ma mchis pa’das pa’i pha rol na with sems can gyi don du thos pa tshol zhing thsol ba na.

62 “mDzangs blun zhes bya ba’i mdo” (bKa’ ’gyur sde dge), fol. 298a: rgya nag las ’gyur pa snang ngo.

63 Schiefner, Ergänzungen und Berichtigungen, 4 (pointing to Schmidt, Der Weise und der Thor, vol. p. 7, line 7) refers to the reading phangs par as coming from the block print. This would accord with the reading of the Narthang edition: “mDzangs blun zhes bya ba’i mdo” bKa’ ’gyur (dpe bsdur ma), p. 407 (and comparative apparatus on p. 806), where Derge would be phangs pa, Lithang and Chone (like Schmidt) ’phongs par, and Narthang phangs par. Furthermore, Derge phar spu (vol. 74 fol. 132b, line 4) has phangs pa. In case this was a misreading, it would only refer to the ra, which is probable enough.

64 If we believe Schiefner, Ergänzungen und Berichtigungen, 1, the copy had been arranged by Schilling: “Schmidt war  …  auf eine eben nicht sehr correcte Abschrift beschränkt, welche der verstorbene Baron Paul Schilling von Canstadt aus eine Kandjur-Ausgabe hatte veranstalten lassen”.

65 Róna-Tas, “Review”, 93, states, without giving a rationale, however, that Schmidt has used a copy of the Berlin version of the Narthang Kanjur.

66 Interestingly, when Schmidt described the structure of the Kanjur at the Asiatic Museum (we presume Derge) in his foreword to its table of contents published in 1845, he noted that its arrangement would differ from that outlined by Csoma (Schmidt, bKa’ ’gyur gyi dkar chag, note 11).

67 Schmidt, Der Weise und der Thor, vol. 1, XXXVII (translation into English by author): “Mir, dem eine Masse des zu dieser Literature Gehörigen aus eigener Anschauung bekannt ist, der aber dessen ungeachtet den weiten Umfang und die Grenzen desselben bei weitem noch nicht kennt, – mir schwebt der reiche Inhalt blos des Bekannten auf das lebhafteste vor den Geistesaugen; mit dem besten Willen aber, weiter und tiefer in die Erforschung desselben zu gehen, versperrt mein alternder Organismus mir den Weg und nöthigt mich still zu stehen. Eine rasch fortschreitende Abnahme des Sehvermögens, bei sonst ungeschwächter Schärfe des Gedächtnisses und Denkvermögens zwingt mich nämlich – so Gott will blos für eine Zwischenzeit – die Studien einzustellen und die Feder niederzulegen”. For the decline of his eyesight, also see Babinger, “Isaak Jakob Schmidt”, 28.

68 Le Calloc’h, “Isaac-Jacob Schmidt, fondateur”, 10, 15–16.

69 Jäschke, Tibetan-English Dictionary, v–vi. For an overview of Jäschke’s achievements and activity as Bible translator, also see Bray, “Heinrich August Jaeschke”; Bray, “Language, Tradition”.

70 Schiefner, Ergänzungen und Berichtigungen, 6.

71 For a summary of Schiefner’s life, including his studies, see Warlavens, “Schiefner, Anton von”. The many publications by Schiefner are outlined in Walravens, “Anton Schiefner (1817–1879)”.

72 For the Sūjata legend, see Schmidt, Der Weise und der Thor, vol. 1, XVII–XXXI; the chapter numbers of the other stories refer to Der Weise und der Thor, vol. 2.

73 Schmidt et al., Tibetanische Märchen. Schiefner, too, became well-known for his translation from narratives from the Kanjur; see, for example, the English translation by Ralston of his German Tibetan Tales Derived from Indian Sources.

74 Beer and Schmidt, Dsanglun (Mdzangs blun). Róna-Tas, “Review”, 92, rightly complains that although the editors have allegedly looked at the Tibetan while modernising and brushing up the older rendering, this seems not to have been the case. He also points out that Schmidt being the translator was somehow hidden.

75 For the monad, see Rutherford, “Metaphysics: The late period”. For his visit to Peter the Great, see Britannica Academic, s.v. “Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz”; Cracraft, The Petrine Revolution, 241.

76 Schmidt’s vital role is evident at this stage of research, yet Schimmlepenninck van der Oye, Russian Orientalism, 110–11, states (without presenting a substantial argument) that Schmidt, “does not occupy a prominent place in the pantheon of tsarist orientologists. His accomplishments were respectable, including some pioneering works in Mongolian and Tibetan philology. However, the irascible Dutchman did not take kindly to criticism, and he is best remembered for his quarrels with more illustrious Russian colleagues”. This has already been pointed out as incompetent by Zorin, Tibetan Studies in Russia, 38, n. 69. I can only reiterate this point based on the present paper. Especially not evidenced judgements of character seem unfounded without deeper study.

77 See bibliography entries for John Bray below as well as his oeuvre in general.

78 Cf. Rheingans, “Heinrich A. Jäschkes deutschsprachige Pionierarbeiten”, 137.

79 Heissig, “Sagang sečen und sein Übersetzer”, 674.

80 Zorin, “Tibetan studies in Russia”, 66.

81 Maybe the best summary of Schmidt’s views is contained in his brief paper: Schmidt, “Über den Nutzen des Studiums der ostasiatischen Sprachen überhaupt, und in besonderer Beziehung auf Rußland” [“About the use of the study of East Asian languages in general and in particular in relation to Russia”].

82 The programme of research regarding the Tibetan as well as the comparison has been outlined in Roesler, “Materialien zur Redaktionsgeschichte des mDzaṅs blun”, 407, note 6, where it is also emphasised that parallels exist to other canonical texts, such as the “Sūtra of Thankfulness” in the Kanjur (T 156, vol. III, pp. 124–66). A doctoral dissertation planned at Marburg University about a detailed comparison of the Chinese and Tibetan (and Mongolian) versions under the supervision of the late Prof. Michael Hahn that Roesler has mentioned in her work (Roesler, “Materialien zur Redaktionsgeschichte des mDzaṅs blun”) has not been undertaken (e-mail communication, February 2023). Regarding the linguistic antecedents, Mair’s examination of “The Linguistic and Textual Antecedents” should be continued, along with a study of how the topoi of the narratives spread into or are related with other sources.