The Buddhist Life and Thought of Chao Kung, the European Monk in China

Abstract

This article constructs a timeline of Chao Kung’s Buddhist life in China and summarizes his Buddhist thought. In early 1931, he attained his Chinese monkhood. In June of that year, the Buddhist lectures he delivered in Beijing sparked controversy that ultimately led to his departure for Europe in late 1932. He returned to Shanghai in mid-1933 with twelve European followers and quickly secured high-profile support from Chinese religio-political celebrities, particularly Dai Jitao, who positioned them as foreign admirers of the ninth Panchen. Sent to Europe in early 1934, he and some of his followers were soon back in China several months later. From that point onward, Chao Kung led a precarious life until his death in 1943. He asserted that the sole Truth lay in the Buddha’s original teachings, which were essentially encapsulated in the doctrine of “no-self,” through which the problem of human suffering could be resolved.

1. Introduction

Trebitsch Lincoln (1879–1943) was a wanderer. Born into a Hungarian Jewish family, he had been a naturalized British citizen from 1909 to 1918, and then stateless for the rest of his life. He started and failed in multiple professions in Europe, such as Seebohm Rowntree’s (1871–1954) private secretary, British MP, double agent of Britain and Germany, oil producer in Romania, and press censor of the German government after the Kapp Putsch. He drifted from one faith to another. Leaving his Judaic tradition, he entered Christianity and even became a clergyman in several denominations. He fantasized about the possibility of being a Tibetan theocratic leader but never had a chance to realize it. He started a theosophical pilgrimage to Adyar but gave up halfway. He attained his monkhood in Chinese Mahayana, but insisted on a Buddhist knowledge blended with a fraction of theosophy, a fraction of Europeanized Theravada, and his own understanding of the world.

In sharp contrast to the consistency of his Buddhist thought, Lincoln’s Buddhist life was quite unsettled. Some of his Buddhist experiences are revealed in his autobiography (Trebitsch-Lincoln 1931), the documentary compilation Az igazi Trebitsch (Endre 1985), and the analytical biography The Secret Life of Trebitsch Lincoln (Wasserstein 1988). What the above works reveal is seminal, yet they need more analysis based on Chinese original sources, since China was the country where Lincoln spent most of his Buddhist life. This need is partly met with a Chinese article on Lincoln’s Buddhist life (Liu 2020), and an English article on Lincoln in the context of Buddhist cosmopolitanism (Shao 2024). Liu’s article draws a timeline of Lincoln’s Buddhist life in China, introducing some of the previously unnoticed information, but more is needed. Shao’s article, drawing on extensive literature and critical analysis, is insightful in both reading Lincoln and reading the age, yet the former is much less elaborated than the latter, highlighting the need for an account of Lincoln’s Buddhist life and thought as detailed as possible.

So, his Buddhist biography is still worthy of reconstruction through the examination of more Chinese primary sources, such as dozens of Lincoln’s literary works in China and more than a thousand news items in Chinese language or English journals and papers issued in China. Building upon the aforementioned studies and an examination of those primary sources in China, this article will construct a timeline of Lincoln’s Buddhist life in China, substantiating inferences where necessary. It will also integrate Lincoln’s Buddhist thought within the chronological narrative and provide a summary of its core themes in the conclusion, making this article a document analysis supplementary to Wasserstein’s Secret and Shao Jiade’s “Cosmopolitanism”.

This study divides Lincoln’s Buddhist life into six periods. The first period (1916–1930) covers the years preceding his ordination as a Buddhist monk. The second period (early 1931) marks the attainment of his Chinese monkhood. The third period (mid-1931–mid-1932) encompasses his public lectures and the controversies they generated. The fourth period (mid-1933–March 1934) marks the support he and his European followers received from certain Chinese circles. The fifth period (mid-1934–1939) includes his struggles to sustain himself in China and his repeated attempts to leave China. Finally, the sixth period (1940–1943) comprises his final years in China.

2. The Years Preceding His Ordination as a Buddhist Monk: 1916–1930

2.1. Attempts to Realize His Tibetan Theocratic Fantasy

He first mentioned Buddhism in January 1916 during his escape from an American jail, claiming that he had previously traveled to Central Asia disguised as a Buddhist monk for espionage purposes, and that he was also planning to spend ten years initiating a Buddhist revival with the aim of ending the British rule in Asia (Wasserstein 1988, p. 222). However, his visit to Central Asia was doubtful, because he had been involved in his European affairs and did not have the time or chance to journey eastward. His Western contemporaries thought it a “vainglorious dream of power” (PG 1927), and later scholars such as Wasserstein assumed Lincoln to be psychic or messianic, taking Sabbatai Zevi (1626–1676) into comparison. Their judgments might be more reasonable if Agvan Dorjie (1853–1938) were taken into comparison, too. Agvan Dorjie was Lincoln’s eastern contemporary, influential in Russia, Mongolia, and Tibet, who advocated for a pan-Buddhist movement to unite all Buddhists into one state, namely Shambhala. He was called a Russian spy in monk’s attire by the hostile British in the 1910s (interestingly, the hostile Russians in the late 1930s labeled him a Japanese monk-spy). Lincoln’s claim to be a monk-spy in Central Asia and his announcement to initiate a pan-Asian Buddhist movement were perhaps evoked by this Tibetan Buddhist, instead of “a bombastic prophecy” (Wasserstein 1988, p. 222).

Lincoln did not talk about Buddhism for the next six years, during which he was deeply involved in various troubles. However, in 1922, what the British did rekindled his interest. In early July of that year, a delegate called “the British Buddhist Mission to Tibet” departed from London for Tibet via India. Around the same time, Lincoln headed for Sichuan 四川 China, “because that province adjoins Thibet and my purpose was to start trouble in Central Asia” (Wasserstein 1988, p. 199). Prof. Wasserstein suggests that China was one of the few places left for him to enter without the fear of arrest. It was, and more. Geopolitically speaking, Tibet was then surrounded by three major neighboring powers: Russian Mongolia, British India, and chaotic China. Since Russia had no reason to assist this ex-Brit, and Britain barred him from setting foot on its colonies, China became his only viable passage.

Having made the right choice, Lincoln arrived in China by sea route, which meant he had to disembark in Shanghai, sail upstream along the Yantze River to Chongqing 重慶, situated in the eastern part of the Sichuan basin, and then travel inland, crossing high mountains, navigating turbulent rivers, and avoiding conflicts between various warlords. If he was fortunate enough to survive such a journey, he might reach one of the border towns in Xikang 西康 and wait there to be granted permission by the hostile Tibetan authority, which, as far as the author knows, no sneaking Westerner till his time had ever received. So it was practically impossible for his Tibetan dream to come true through China. Perhaps aware of this, and possibly realizing that he had no political or financial prospects in Sichuan, as Prof. Wasserstein analyses, he left Chongqing several months later. Then he staked his political career by working under a warlord in Nanjing, but he mismanaged it and made his escape in October 1924.

2.2. Formation of His Buddhist Thought

His journey took him to Java first, followed by Europe and then New York. However, Buddhism continued to occupy his mind, though not of Tibetan theocracy. In June 1925, he wrote, “Could I do what I want I would retire to some peaceful corner of the earth and…end my days in serene contemplation” (Wasserstein 1988, p. 220). Given his European experience and theosophical context of Western understanding of Eastern Buddhism, his concept of contemplation was possibly of a theosophical nature. Of the same nature was his mystical experience on 27 October 1925 at the Astor House Hotel in Tianjin 天津, China (Wasserstein 1988, p. 222). Lincoln headed for Adyar, the headquarters of theosophy, to gain further knowledge, perhaps hoping to establish himself as an authority truer than those who were restrained in Europe. However, when he arrived in Buddhist Ceylon, he turned from Occidental theosophy to Oriental Buddhism.

In Ceylon, he did acquire some fractions of Buddhist knowledge, live by a few of its monastic rules, and study Pali briefly. But his Buddhist experience presented to the Westerners might be questionable. For instance, he told a reporter he had taken a few weeks of a Pali course and then could continue his studies privately in Pali (Wasserstein 1988, p. 224), and several years later he was even attributed the translatorship of a Pali sutta (Chao Kung 1938a). These claims were doubtful. His underwhelming academic performances in schools and seminaries during his early years, as exposed in Secret, might have foreshadowed his limited ability in learning, and the fact that he could not even speak Chinese after living there for more than a decade in his old age further suggested that he was not proficient at learning non-European languages. His own words during an interview in 1931 might strengthen this guess:

“What languages are the Buddhist books you’ve read?”

“Most are German books translated from Pali, with a few English translations from Pali; and some are English books written by the Japanese. I might turn to Pali versions if they are difficult to understand. But my Pali is not so good.”.

(Shi 1931)

Despite his confusion at the translation of the Pali sutta and the transwriting based on the Pali sutta, he was being honest this time, because honesty was the only policy for this poorly equipped but ambitious Buddhist after he delivered a speech before a large audience in 1931 and was then scrutinized by two doubtful Chinese authorities (which will be discussed later). In summary, due to his lack of language proficiency and other qualifications, Lincoln fed himself with some fragments taken from the Western orientalists, though he was already standing on the eastern Buddhist land of Ceylon. He made himself a Buddhist name, Anagarika (homeless) Pukkusati (Wasserstein 1988, p. 229), two words borrowed from Anagarika Dharmapala (1864–1933) and Pukkusati, the first being Lincoln’s contemporary and a renowned theosophical Buddhist in Cyleon, and the latter being Shakyamuni’s contemporary and a king of powerful Gandhara. As a self-given name may reveal the self-image of a person, “homeless king” was the self-portrait of this expellee.

Anyhow, his Ceylonese experience added some credibility to his doubtful Buddhist experiences before the Western audience. This might be a reason why, on March 1926, he was so carefree to say “I even held conversations with him (his son to be hanged) by telepathy.…I think the telepathy of Buddhism supported us…” (Wasserstein 1988, p. 226), not afraid of being verified. Cautious enough, he seldom brought up supernatural or mystical topics before Chinese Buddhists, and went even further to negate the power of Buddhist prayer and the Tibetan living Buddha (which is to be discussed later).

In early 1927, he wrote to the State Department of the US, expressing why America needed him to stay there longer: because it was he who had attracted more and more listeners with his inspiring lectures and formed a Buddhist Center in San Francisco in the mission of Nyogen Senzaki千崎如幻 (1876–1958), a Japanese Zen monk (Wasserstein 1988, p. 228). But his “help” left no trace in documents about Senzaki.

2.3. Attempts to Establish a Buddhist Persona Before Westerners in China

He departed from Vancouver for British-occupied Hong Kong on 1 September 1927, carrying three cases of Buddhist books, fully prepared to sell his Buddhism to the Westerners in China. On arriving, he revealed his true name to the Hong Kong police, “because a Buddhist wouldn’t tell lies” (Wasserstein 1988, p. 229), as he claimed. He also expressed that he did not want to settle down in any of the British colonies in an unlawful way, though he was able to do this. The Hong Kong officer selected China as his destination, for which he could disembark lawfully.

His honesty might have another explanation. He knew well that being Lincoln meant being denied entry into any of the British colonies. So, his claimed “confusion” about where to go might not be genuine but a performance to emphasize his piety and sacrifice for his Buddhist belief. Moreover, he was not forced by the British authority to leave America, where he received more favorable treatment. He voluntarily chose to leave America and set Hong Kong as his destination instead. In fact, as early as four months before the voyage, he had already started planning his return to China, testing the waters with a tentative action. On 21 April 1927, an abrupt report appeared in North-China Daily News. Among the preferable retellings of his old tricks in Europe was a paragraph explaining his escape from China in 1924 and his conversion to Buddhism in Ceylon in 1925:

I had a long talk with him, writes a personal friend of his, about his intention to hide himself in a monastery just before he last disappeared. He was converted to Buddhism, he told me, by a British officer whom he met in China. Before his conversion his one aim was to be revenge on Britain for his treatment during the war. Faced with his new truth all he desired was peace. He left China immediately for Ceylon and entered a monastery.

(NCD 1927a)

As mentioned earlier, Ceylon was not his initial destination when he left China in 1924. This report oversimplified his journey as a noble search for faith. If this “personal friend” or the anonymous reporter was sensible enough, he might have wondered who this British officer was, in which country he himself had converted to Buddhism, and why this officer who was stationed in Buddhist China advised Lincoln went to Buddhist Ceylon instead of inviting him to be a dharma brother right there with him. And if such an exotic officer did exist, he should have left some traces in either English newspapers in China or the Chinese Buddhists journals. But no evidence was found. And when Lincoln retold the same story four years later in 1931, this “British officer in China” was changed to the “British skipper of the steamer from Hong Kong to Tianjin in 1925” (Hunter 1931, p. 98), making the news report dubious.

Considering the timing of the report—just several months before his return to China—it appeared that this officer and friend were probably created by Lincoln to offer a decent excuse for his escape from China and to tentatively forecast his future Buddhist persona. No response was found in the newspapers. For Lincoln, when all news was bad news, no news was then good news indeed. So, having predicted the Hong Kong authority’s normal response to him, Lincoln revealed his identity not because a Buddhist could not lie but because his honesty was a calculated part of the scheme to show his future audience in China that this law-abiding and devout Buddhist had no choice but to return to China.

On 26 October 1927, he arrived in Tianjin. Two days later, he visited the British Legation in Beijing, requesting permission to travel to Tibet via India and to give a public lecture on Buddhism in a theosophical center in Beijing the following week. The Legation denied the first as usual, but not the second. His water-testing strategy worked again: the denial was never a surprise to him, but his Buddhist persona was formally acknowledged as something tolerable. However, his lecture was thwarted by some hostile British theosophists (Buddhists) in Beijing, and his attempt to contact the ninth Panchen (1883–1937) was interpreted as a harmful attempt to facilitate his entry into India via Tibet, since his frequent threats of taking revenge to Britain with “the bands of the Yellow Peril” or “the hordes of the Far East” (PG 1927) were widespread. Intercepted in Beijing, he wandered around for several months, searching for opportunities to move forward (Wasserstein 1988, pp. 233–34, 239; CP 1927; NCD 1927b; NCH 1927).

He did find one in Tianjin. On 16 August 1928, at the invitation of the Rotary Club established by Americans, Lincoln stepped out of his dwelling in the French Concession and delivered a speech at a hotel in the British Concession. Though he emphasized his Buddhist identity, the speech had nothing to do with Buddhism but was another haughty public statement demanding that the British government make peace with him. Very quickly, his prospects for a future here were extinguished, largely due to his own fierce confrontation with the British authorities (Wasserstein 1988, pp. 236–38; NCD 1928; NCH 1928).

After several fruitless months of struggling among the foreigners in China, Lincoln departed for Hamburg on 25 July 1929, announcing that he was to discuss a significant Buddhist project with Georg Grimm (1868–1945) in Munich. Judging from his later words and deeds, this project was probably to set up a Buddhist community with Grimm. But Germany denied him entry permission. He then returned to China, then returned to Europe, and then returned to China, hoping to return to Europe soon, without any prophetic eyes to foresee his life sentence in this chaotic Far East country. And now it was late 1930 (ST 1929; NCD 1929).

Lincoln’s ultimate aim had always been clear: to reestablish his life in Europe. When the doors to nearly all secular careers were firmly locked, a window of a religious one—preaching some faith unfamiliar to Westerners—was wide open in his limited knowledge. Now that this window was shut down by Germany, he had to find a force to push it open. And he did find one: Chinese monkhood.

3. Attainment of Chinese Monkhood: Early 1931

3.1. Tonsure at Zhunti Temple

There were at least four versions of his claim to be a Buddhist up till now. The first was his threat to Britain that he had been a monk-spy in central Asia. The second was that he had lost interest in theosophy and became interested in Buddhism when in Ceylon, which he told the Western people. The third was that he was converted by some British officer in China and went immediately to Ceylon, which he told the Westerners in China. And the fourth was designed for the Chinese Buddhists and thus was widespread in China: having gone through ups and downs in various careers, he wanted to release his sufferings in Buddhism; since a wrongdoer might become a man of virtue once he became good, he now repented of his past and became a monk in China (DGB 1931a, 1931b; YSB 1931; JB 1931a; SJRB 1931a, 1931b). Chinese people bought it in the beginning, showing their friendliness.

They also showed their helpfulness. A young man introduced Lincoln to his father, Pang Mingxin 龐銘新, who, as it was said, had studied in the US for some time, had close relationships with the warlord Li Yuanhong 黎元洪 (1864–1928), and had participated in a group of Chinese Buddhists visiting Thailand in the winter of 19281. The common topics between this despondent Chinese army man and the former charismatic European politician were easy to identify: their experiences in America, their ordeals in Chinese warlordism, and their shared interest in Theravada. Knowing that Lincoln aspired to be a monk, to be the first2 foreign monk ordained in China, warm-hearted Pang accompanied him to a small temple in Hangzhou called Zhunti Temple 準提閣, and both got tonsured there.

Zhunti Temple was located at No.4 Piaogengshi Rd., Chenghuangshan (alias Wushan), Hangzhou, Zhejiang 浙江杭州城隍山（吳山）瓢羹石四號. The whole area was densely populated and scattered with dozens of small temples of popular cults. Its abbot Jiyun 寂雲 (1887–1958) was one of Pang’s companions during his trip to Thailand in 1928. Jiyun, with his secular name Xie Guoliang 謝國梁, was born into a noble family in Tiantai 天台 county of Hangzhou. He studied law in Japan for some years and pursued various professions upon returning to China. He became a lay Buddhist in 1927 and journeyed to Thailand in 1928 with Pang and some other Buddhists. Upon his return to China, he was tonsured in the spring of 1930 in Nanputuo Temple 南普陀寺 and received the dharma name Jiyun3. When Pang and Lincoln visited him in early 1931, he had already assumed the abbotship of the Zhunti Temple. The two visitors resided there for one or two months, then both got tonsured.

3.2. Ordination at Longchang Temple

And tonsure was just a preparatory step toward monkhood. In May 1931, the three novices went to Longchang (prosperity) Temple 隆昌寺 near Nanjing, the capital of the Republic of China, to participate in the grand precepts-transmitting ceremony held in May, along with four hundred Chinese novices. Then he received the dharma name Chao Kung 照空 (to perceive emptiness), to which he stuck for the rest of his life. The news of his ordination went viral4.

Following the ritual, they went to Shanghai and stayed in a small German hotel on Route Pere Huc. A week later, Lincoln went to Beijing to deliver speeches. Jiyun returned to Hangzhou and continued functioning as his postman5.

This ceremony was significant in several ways. For one thing, it could enforce Lincoln’s authority in front of Westerners, being a/the “representative” of Chinese Buddhism because there had been no other notable Western monk ordained in China. For another, it was a certificate to the ranks of Chinese monkhood, with which he could be equal, even superior, to local monks in some sense, because his conversion ignited the national and religious pride which had been severely trampled for decades: he was a Westerner, the Westerner who discarded other Buddhist sects and chose Chinese tradition, who wanted to become a monk in weak China instead of other stronger countries. This was a popular Chinese interpretation of his conversion, so advantageous that it might bring him a future friendlier and brighter than ever. Last but not least, it was Longchang Temple that led him to Dai Jitao 戴季陶 (1891–1949), a patron in his later life in China.

Dai, a close associate of Chiang Kai-shek 蔣介石 (1887–1975), played a pivotal role in overseeing the Tibetan and Mongolian affairs in Chiang’s Nanjing government, where the traditional policy of “administration assisted by religion” 以教翼政 remained dominant. One of Dai’s strategies was to elevate the religio-political significance of the ninth Panchen to a nationwide scale. As part of this initiative, Dai selected Huiju (residence of wisdom) Temple 慧居寺 near the capital city and implemented significant reforms. In February 1931, he reinstated its former and more auspicious name “Longchang” and further elevated its status by renaming it Huguo shenghua longchang Temple 護國聖化隆昌寺 (Nation-protecting Buddhism-preaching prosperity Temple), a name that highlighted the religio-political feature of traditional Chinese Buddhism. And now that the religious components had been crippled severely since the late Qing dynasty, the political ones grew overwhelming. Consequently, large temples, such as Longchang, became increasingly reliant on and obedient to local political forces to ensure their survival and, if possible, prosperity. In early April 1931, two months after its renaming, this once-renowned but now dilapidated temple began a reconstruction funded by donations raised by Dai. Then on 4 May, just several days before the grand precept-transmitting ceremony, this glorified temple saw the advent of the ninth Panchen at the invitation of the National Government (Dai 1931; SX 1931b, 1931c).

So, while Lincoln was the major catalyst for the interest of both Westerners and the Chinese populace in the ceremony, its grandeur was of primary concern to Dai and the temple. Lincoln’s participation with Westerners’ gaze was more of a merry interlude in the religio-political symphony, or an unplanned quasi-diplomatic advertisement of the temple’s success, which almost meant Dai’s success as well. For sharp-nosed Lincoln, Dai was undoubtedly a tycoon worth establishing a connection with.

4. Lectures in Beijing and Controversies Followed: Mid-1931–Mid-1932

4.1. Lectures in Beijing

As planned, Lincoln—Chao Kung now—delivered two lectures in English: one on why he became a monk in China6 and the other on his understanding of Buddhism (Kuanrong 1931a; DGB 1931a; JB 1931d). He actually delivered at least three speeches at and near Beijing, but the third one (JB 1931c) was insignificant. The first two took place on 7 June at the North-China Buddhist Lodge 華北居士林, led by Hu Zihu 胡子笏 (1876–1943), a devoted lay disciple of Taixu 太虛 (1890–1947), and on 14 June at the Buddhist Academy 佛教教理院, an institution affiliated with Taixu’s World Buddhist Institute 世界佛學苑, which sought to educate monks with an international outlook. The two institutions and Chao Kung were attracted to each other. For Chao Kung, securing recognition as a Buddhist missionary authorized by the Nanjing government and affiliated with Taixu’s lineage provided the ideal credentials for his anticipated return to Europe, and those Buddhist networks already established in Europe with Taixu’s involvement during his previous European trip might offer Chao Kung potential footholds. For the Chinese, their high anticipation could be understood through the words of Hu and Fafang 法舫 (1904–1951). Hu said,

Master Chao Kung discovered our profound Buddhism while the world only knows that China provides raw material and man powers. We Chinese feel very grateful… He…had been studied Buddhism for thirty7 years, and his understanding goes far deeper than that of ordinary Buddhists, despite his rather recent ordination as a monk.

(DGB 1931a)

Fafang was an eminent disciple of Taixu and a teacher at the Buddhist Academy, who played a key role in several pioneering initiatives aimed at realizing Taixu’s vision of a global Buddhist mission. He wrote,

Upon hearing that a foreigner had become a Chinese monk, I…am filled with joy. Why? Because Buddhism is inherently meant for all nations…and for all sentient beings…. However…it has no direct contact with Europeans. Now a European came to study Buddhism in this way, isn’t it joyous to have a new foreign activist? …. He also wants to teach Buddhism to ordinary Westerners…isn’t it joyous to have another helpful missionary?8

All went well before his two-hour lecture on 7 June 1931 in front of more than two hundred Chinese and foreign listeners. After presenting a simple but not-wrong statement of happiness and suffering from a Buddhist perspective, he began to attack Abrahamic religions, saying that the otherworld, such as paradise, was just an illusion and an insidious notion used by various religions to deceive themselves and their believers. In contrast, Buddhism was not. Now that Christianity was fallacious and bankrupt, the first thing for China to do was to send missionaries to propagate Buddhism in Europe, because only Buddhist no-self (anatman) and inner peace could save Europeans from their greed. Additionally, he emphasized his unique status as the first Westerner ordained in China.

His intention was clear: to go back to Europe as a Buddhist missionary supported by China. Beneath the logical framework of such a speech lay his underlying mindset: given that Taixu was the spiritual leader of the Lodge, and of the Buddhist mission as well, it must be safe and praiseworthy to parrot his words—the speech was entitled “A Statement to Asiatic Buddhists” (Taixu 1925) delivered at the first East Asian Buddhist Conference convened in Tokyo in 1925, with its English translation published in The Young East and summarized by the editor of The Eastern Buddhist (Pittman 2001). These two English journals were issued by Japanese Buddhist missionaries aiming at spreading Buddhism in the West. As Chao Kung once mentioned, he had read some English books written by Japanese writers, among which were possibly these journals designed for the general Western public.

4.2. Interview with Fafang and Lin Liguang

Judging from the consequences, his self-glorification and mimicry in Beijing were more a failure than a success. After his first lecture, this foreign monk aroused the attention and appreciation of the Chinese general public. Compared with the Westerners’ hostility, Chinese people appeared neutral to his past. For the Buddhists of Taixu’s lineage who took a global mission rather earnestly, an elementary lecture to the general public fell short of demonstrating his competency in mission work, hence the interview by Fafang and Lin Liguang 林藜光 (1902–1945), just several hours before his second lecture on the morning of 14 June. Fafang was familiar with both Theravada in southeast Asia and Mahayana in Chinese, Japanese, and Tibetan traditions; Lin was an orientalist who had studied with Paul Demiéville (1894–1979), Alexander von Stel-Holstein (1877–1937) and Sylvain Lévi (1863–1935), who could read Sanskrit, Pali and Tibetan sutras and who was well acquainted with current Western Buddhist studies. In a word, Chao Kung’s ignorance or misjudgment of Buddhist belief and study could hardly withstand the scrutiny of these two experts. Unsurprisingly, the result was disastrous. So was that of the second speech at the Lodge on his Buddhist thought.

He voiced his Buddhist thought clearly, firmly and confidently in the lectures and the interview, unaware that he was drowning himself in a controversial and complicated issue over whether Mahayana was the Buddha’s teaching. As this time-honored dispute was refreshed by the Western orientalists’ scientific study of Theravada, Mahayana was denied by those who argued for a rational and historical Buddhism. When such orientalist knowledge was brought into China, some reformist believers applied part of it constructively to supplement the Chinese understanding of Buddhism; some radical believers took it as a weapon to challenge the corrupted parts of Chinese Buddhist tradition, and some conservative believers viewed it as a destructive force. As this academic or religious issue gradually got entangled with foreign colonization and invasion, things got nasty. Chinese Buddhists had suffered internally and externally from this for more than a decade before Chao Kung showed up. To make a long story short, Chao Kung’s limited reading was consisted primarily of theosophy and a small part of German and English writings on Buddhism based on Pali Theravada, but he regarded what he had received from the limited Europeanized knowledge as the sole and whole truth of Buddhism. Ignorant Chao Kung then demonstrated his enemy-making talent again: to display his superiority and arrogance by humiliating those from whom he was seeking help. Following the interview, Fafang wrote a long article in which he documented their conversation in detail and provided his comments. The major portion of his remarks was as follows:

“The only truth of Buddhism, as I understand it, is what the Buddha had taught, nothing beyond that, including Mahayana in China or Hinayana in Ceylon and India. Nor do I accept the scriptures of either tradition as authentic, for they are not true scriptures. There was no such differentiation between Mahayana scriptures or Hinayana ones, because The Buddha’s teachings were not classified as Mahayana or Hinayana during his lifetime, nor did any scriptures exist at that time. After the Buddha’s passing, the First Council determined the tripitaka and established guidelines for its recitation and practice. However, the tripitaka was not committed to writing until the Second Council. Disputes arose during the Third Council, leading to the development of distinct scriptures for different Buddhist groups. The scriptures in Ceylon, namely the four Agamas, emerged as a result of this council and contain many of the Buddha’s original words. So I do not accept the notion that the Buddha’s teachings are divided into Mahayana and Hinayana.” (Chao Kung said.)

“Certainly, Dharma has no such division. The Lotus Sutra says ‘there is only one yana, no two, nor three.’ Buddhism functions as an institution, and the distinction between maha (greater) and hina (lesser) arose due to differences in the level of disciples’ understanding. It is analogous to an education system in which there is a single ultimate goal, but different stages, such as primary school, secondary school and universities to achieve it. The Dharma itself is one, yet the teachings vary according to the capacity of the recipients. Written language serves as a vehicle for conveying thought. The absence of written scriptures during the Buddha’s lifetime can be attributed to two factors: first, the low level of civilization in India at the time; and second, the lack of necessity, as disciples could directly attain realization by listening to the Buddha and following his instructions. After the Buddha’s passing, during the First Council, his prominent disciples who had attained enlightenment recollected and recited what they had heard directly from him. Their recollections were considered equivalent to the Buddha’s own words, just as we accurately remember the oral instructions of our parents. The tripitaka compiled after the Second Council, was merely the written form of the oral recitation established in the First Council, and thus, it too retained authenticity. The disputes that arose during the Third Council resulted from differences in the participants’ levels of understanding. So, despite variations in regulations, the essentials of Buddhism remain the same across all sects, I dare say.” (Fafang and Lin said.)

“If you do not consider any scripture to be truly authentic, then how and from where did you acquire your knowledge of Buddhism? We do not agree with your view. In our understanding, without scripture, there is no means by which one can attain knowledge of Buddhism.” (Fafang and Lin said.)

“I do not mean that all scriptures are false. I do believe that there are many scriptures worth studying. However, errors also exist among them. Yet, there is one, and the only one, way to distinguish truth from falsehood.” (Chao Kung said.)

“What’s that?” (Fafang and Lin asked.)

“No-self. Those aligns with no-self are the Buddha’s teaching, otherwise are not.” (Chao Kung said.)

In Chinese Buddhism, no-self, impermanence and nirvana are regarded as three universal truths shared by both Mahayana and Hinayana. Buddhists often use them to justify research, or to distinguish between truth and falsehood, as well as righteousness and vice. This is one reason why Buddhism transcends all theories. If one’s understanding aligns with them, it can be considered the Buddha’s teaching, otherwise it cannot. However, Chao Kung only knows one of the three, only knows no-self and disregards anitya and nirvana as truths. He truly misses the point. He also asserts that from no-self develop the Four Noble truths and Eight Righteous Paths. We acknowledge that too. Yet, his knowledge of Mahayana is entirely lacking. What’s worse, he does not think he needs to learn it at all. (Fafang commented)

“Chinese Buddhism has all what you say. Besides us two, many Chinese Buddhists know what you’ve known.” (Fafang and Lin said.)

Such a conversation lasted for an hour and a half. We think that he has acquired some knowledge of Pali Hinayana, but his understanding is limited. While his understanding of no-self is correct, his views on other aspects are just subjective preconceptions and one-sided opinions. (Fafang commented)

In fact, he doesn’t know Chinese culture at all, let alone Chinese Buddhism deeply rooted in it. He had never visited any Chinese lay Buddhist or monk, but he insists that there is no Buddhism worthy of study in China. His manner is rude and his knowledge is narrow, just as those narrow-minded and arrogant Westerners. (Fafang commented)

According to monastic laws, one should study and observe the precepts under the guidance of his master for ten years after obtaining his monkhood, and then he might be allowed to teach dharma to others. But Chao Kung does not understand Chinese language, even though he was ordained in China. This made it totally impossible for him to undergo such training. Furthermore, his obstinacy was neither religious nor academic (Fafang commented).

(Shi 1931)

4.3. Controversies Aroused by the Lectures and the Interview

Chao Kung’s honest speeches and Fafang’s honest criticism attracted more Chinese attention. Feeling offended, the general public grew more vigilant about his rejection of Chinese culture and his previous espionage activities, especially when it was becoming more obvious that a large-scale war between China and Japan was to come. Within the Buddhist community, both criticism and defense emerged. For Buddhists in northern China, especially those who disagreed with him, it seemed that he was pushing the Chinese Buddhist authorities to dress him up as a missionary representing Chinese Buddhism, which he totally denied despite the fact that he had chosen to be ordained in China. There were also Chinese articles defending him. One such piece stemmed from a lengthy English news report by Edward Hunter, who interviewed Chao Kung and Crump shortly after the two lectures. Hunter’s article was published in China Weekly Review on 20 June 1931, just two days after Fafang’s Chinese criticism. Hunter’s portrayal of Chao Kung’s Buddhist thought and his European past was neutral, implying a favorable stance. Judging by the content, it seems that both the reporter and Crump were unaware of the negative reactions from the Chinese public at the time. Crump was a British Buddhist in China and once an adversary of Lincoln, according to Wasserstein (perhaps not as hostile as Wasserstein suggests, since it was in his journal that Chao Kung’s two important posthumous articles were published). Crump’s sarcastic tone in Hunter’s report was either overlooked or misinterpreted by the unnamed Chinese translator, who submitted a complete translation of the report to two influential Buddhist journals, Weiyin 威音 and Haichaoyin 海潮音. Weiyin published the translation on 15 July 1931, but Haichaoyin delayed its publication until October, adding a lengthy editorial note by the chief editor Manzhi 滿智:

It has been more than a month since we received this article. The editor delayed its publication because he believed verification is necessary. Although the same translation had already been in Weiyin a month prior, it is still deemed worthy of publication here, with two points highlighted to demonstrate that Master Chao Kung is correct.

(A quotation from the Chinese translation of the part explaining one reason of Chao Kung’s being a monk: he no longer had any interest in the world full of suffering, and wanted to seek true happiness, which he believed could only be found in Buddhism) Chao Kung’s above understanding is correct.

(A quotation of Chao Kung’s promise to establish a Buddhist center in Europe and his statement that his sole occupation in life would be to spread the doctrine of the Buddha) The above thought is also correct.

Furthermore, Chao Kung had already organized several Buddhist societies in Europe and America before his conversion, through which he educated a number of people who were either planning to study Buddhism or had decided to pursue monkhood. Now that he has become a monk, I hope he will fulfill his commitment to make spreading Buddhism his sole occupation in the future, thereby enlightening European and American countries with Buddhism.

(Manzhi 1933)

If verification was necessary, the dispute over Chao Kung must have already spread from northern China to the southern city of Shanghai. However, compared to Fafang’s interview and rebuttal, Manzhi’s “verification” appeared to be a hasty judgment, based on his literal and flawed understanding of the Chinese translation of Chao Kung’s speeches. A month later, the same journal published a sensational article entitled “Waiguo seng Zhaokongshi yishi size” (Four anecdotes of Chao Kung the foreign monk) (Dinghui 1931) in defense of him, written by Juzan 巨贊 (1908–1984), pen-named Dinghui 定慧. Praising his virtue in matters of chastity, faithfulness, and helpfulness, the anecdotes seemed to be out of Chao Kung’s self-glorification. Nevertheless, young Juzan believed them. Even in this partial article and in his questionable memoir half a century later, Juzan did not challenge Fafang’s criticism of Chao Kung’s Buddhist thought, suggesting that Fafang’s judgment had by then become a widely accepted consensus.

To summarize, general Chinese newspapers increasingly turned negative toward Chao Kung; Buddhists agreed that his understanding of Buddhism was superficial and more aligned with Theravada traditions. Some Buddhists rejected him, while others, appreciating his unique status as a foreign monk ordained in China and the knowledge of Western Buddhism he brought, would offer help in one way or another.

4.4. Struggles to Restart in China and Leave China

After disappearing from the public eye for some days, he resurfaced in Shanghai in August 1931, where he acknowledged that he would abandon his planned trip to Europe due to the complicated situation there (SX 1931a). When asked about his next destination, “he said he would like to go to some region of high mountains, but when Sichuan was suggested to him, he failed to commit himself.” (Shen 1931) He did travel to Sichuan soon, possibly seeking refuge, or attempting once again to realize his long-held Tibetan dream.

According to March’s letter, Chao Kung intended to study Buddhism in Tibet. His journey to Chongqing was motivated by his desire to seek assistance from Liu Xiang 劉湘 (1888–1938) in securing admission to Tibet. Liu was a warlord but deeply concerned about Tibetan affairs, and was currently involved in the establishment of the Han–Tibetan Buddhist Academy 漢藏教理院. Despite Chao Kung’s request, Liu did not grant him approval. However, he arranged for him to stay at a temple on Jinyun Mountain 縉雲山, where Chao Kung resided for some time9.

Several lines written by a friend in Shanghai, E. Kermode, echoed the fact of his being in Chongqing and asking for help from Liu Xiang: “he was refused permission to travel beyond Shuihu (Xufu) 敘府 in (I think) 193010 and he was very much annoyed with the Sichuanese General Liu Xiang for refusing him this permission” (Kermode 1934). Liu’s refusal was largely motivated by concerns for Chao Kung’s safety, since regions beyond Shuihu were under the control of rival warlords engaging in conflicts against Liu, making the supposed journey to Tibet particularly dangerous.

The exact date of his departure from Chongqing was undocumented but was no later than January 1932, because he was already in Shanghai by 9 February, as indicated at the end of his article “China’s Plight” (Chao Kung 1932b). Back in Shanghai, he sustained himself through writing and lecturing, while preparing for his return to Europe. In early 1932, after the Sino-Japanese war broke out, he began to offer political guidance in the name of a Buddhist on topics like how to renew China, or how to stop the war, in an attempt to market his talents in influencing both war and peace for both China and its invaders. But no buyer showed up (Chao Kung 1932a; NCD 1932b; NCH 1932).

Side by side with his political attempts was his selling of his true Buddhism to foreigners in Shanghai. As an ad in April said,

About two months ago, Chao Kung began an informal series of talks in the houses of those desirous of acquiring first-hand information about Buddhism. So many others have shown an interest in the subject that the original group has arranged his public lecture to which all interested are invited.

(NCD 1932e, 1932f)

On 29 April, he delivered a speech entitled “Christianity’s Widespread Fall” (or “Buddhism and the Shipwrecked World”) at the Masonic Hall, 162 Avenue Road, Shanghai. His misbehavior and attack on Christianity sparked mockery from his audience, who repeatedly expressed their attitude through a public apology written by someone pen-named “Fair Play” and “Pale Grey.” His next speech, less advertised, delivered on 24 May, entitled “On Fellowship from The Buddhistic Point of View”, was presented at the Goodwill Dinner at the Foreign YMCA. This friendlier speech concluded with a friendly report. In June, he delivered a lecture entitled “Kraft und Stoff im Lichte der Buddahlehre” in the German language before the local branch of the German East Asiatic Societies. No response was found. On 30 July, he appeared as the guest of honor at a dinner held at the Union Club of China at 7.30 p.m. and gave a lecture on Buddhism in its relation to the modern world11. Also in June, he applied to the German Consulate for a visa to visit Germany, using such religious and academic lectures as evidence of his rebirth from a Saul to a Paul. The Consul bought it (Wasserstein 1988, p. 247), and he left successfully.

4.5. Chinese Responses to His Failure in Returning to Europe

China had forgotten him for a while after he had gone. But when the news of his arrest in Belgium came, newspapers started a carnival-like gloating over his every step of misfortune with countless reports. Most English reports were as cynical as before, and remained skeptical of his spiritual rebirth. Chinese Christians reacted mildly, stating that his arrest was par for the course since Belgium was a Catholic country that did not yield Buddhism for salvation, and that his Buddhist mission was doomed to fail because it was like teaching a fish how to swim (GJ 1932).

Some Chinese newspapers attributed the arrest to his past espionage activities, leading to the spread of an imaginative story that Chao Kung had been a Japanese spy in China disguised as a monk and was to continue this work in Europe (SB 1932b; RB 1932; Shubi 1932). Given his personality and life experience, being a Japanese spy was highly doubtful. But considering Chao Kung’s arrogant articles on the Sino–Japanese war, his previous claims of being the monk-spy in central Asia, and the fact that there were Japanese Buddhists in China and some other parts of Asia assisting Japan’s invasion, such a story sounded reasonable to Chinese ears and thus spread quickly, and was updated with increasing detest and anger, even after his death.

The full glare of publicity was a sharp contrast to the deafening silence within the Buddhist circle. Those who had abandoned him at an early stage remained as silent as they had been before. But it was embarrassing for those who supported him in some ways. There was only one mild statement “when on his European mission, he hasn’t cut ties with his past” in Weiyin (WY 1932b), which had previously dedicated several long articles to defend him during the dispute.

A newspaper in Manchuria expressed its attitude by purposely interviewing Chao Kung’s major supporters in this period: Zhifa 智(志)法 and Wang Yiting 王一亭 (1867–1938). Zhifa was the abbot of the Bubbling Well Temple 靜安寺 in Shanghai, who had once provided shelter for him. The abbot denied the rumor awkwardly that Chao Kung was a monk of that temple, saying that he lived there only for a week instead of a year and that he once pleaded to lecture there with some strange excuse but was refused. Wang said that Chao Kung was not his friend but just one of his visitors with whom he was not familiar. He also noted that Chao Kung was mistaken in some Buddhist ideas, and his reasons for being a monk might be lies (SJ 1932). It seemed these once-necessary friends had turned a cold back on him.

5. Buddhist Career in China in a High Profile: Mid-1933–March 1934

5.1. Start of His Religious Business in China

But several months later, their attitudes changed radically, at least on the surface. On 25 June 1933, Chao Kung was back in Shanghai and immediately wrote a letter to The China Press, announcing his arrival and the upcoming arrival of his European followers. (CP 1933g; Chao Kung 1933c). This bombastic news was soon widely spread. He rented a house in 131 Great Western Road, naming it “Buddhist House”, exactly the same as “das Buddhistische Haus” in Berlin, the first Buddhist temple in Europe set up by Paul Dahlke (1865–1928) in 1924. According to a report, his plan at this phase was to teach his disciples the way of the Chinese, the language, and other customs strange to them here in Shanghai before setting out into interior China to establish the monastery he had proposed to found. He said he mainly targeted foreigners because his activity had naturally been confined principally to foreigners. So it looked reasonable for him to deny the Tibetan living Buddha in a bragging tone:

Exploding a popular misconception—at least among people of America and Europe—he said very definitely that “there is no living Buddha. There are any number of ignorant men in the interior of Mongolia and Tibet who call themselves the living Buddha.”

The idea has arisen like many of the other popular misbeliefs in the world today. The only living Buddha was the Buddha on which the religion was founded and he died in 483 B.C. It was only after many centuries following the death of the Buddha that persons claiming to be the living Buddha made their appearance.”

Chao Kung stated that they really believe themselves to be what they claim they are. In such countries as Ceylon, India and Burma where Buddhism flourishes, there is no one claiming to be a living Buddha. Chao Kung said. The claim is only made in Tibet and Mongolia.

(CP 1933c)

His “explosion of popular misconception” might not have been purely religious in nature, because just several days after his denial of the Tibetan theocratic leader, he swiftly positioned himself as the leader of another religio-political organization, the League of Truth. However, Chinese supporters had their own plan for him. As the arrival of his European followers grew imminent, the major Buddhist associations in Shanghai, namely the Buddhist Society of China 中國佛教會, the Pure Karma Buddhist Association 佛教淨業社, and the World Laymen’s Buddhist Association 世界佛教居士林demonstrated their supportive attitude in a high-profile manner12. These societies were closely related to each other and included the major influential lay Buddhist celebrities in Shanghai, whose powers were not restrained in Buddhism only, because religion was often tightly intertwined with politics, finance, diplomacy, and more.

When his followers arrived on 26 and 28 July 1933, Chao Kung adjusted his plan with more Chinese involvement. First and foremost, he hired two professors to teach these followers the Chinese language for “at least two years” (Lun 1933), indicating that two years was provisionally accepted by the Chinese supporters, as he understood. Then, after their two-year education, these followers would be tonsured in Longchang Temple and receive training in sutra translation, while he himself would give regular Sunday lectures at his Buddhist House.

5.2. Start of His Political Business in China—Sales of His League of Truth Version 1.0

With such forceful support, and with his nullification of the religio-political living Buddha, his political urge revived again. On 3 August 1933, several Buddhist journals published an effusive and well-crafted “Greetings to China” (Chao Kung 1933b, 1933d), which marked a stark contrast to his previous arrogance and defamation of Chinese Buddhism in his Beijing lectures in 1931. It seemed that he had learned a lesson and was attempting the opposite strategy, adulation to China, with his usual severe condemnation of the West, but focusing on the League of Nations this time. The Chinese public perceived him as biased and harmful (WY 1933a), but that did not deter him from unveiling his entire plan. On 25 August 1933, he escalated his condemnation to a higher degree and published a seditious article entitled “An Appeal of Antiwar Congress” and aroused criticisms. Nevertheless, based on that appeal, he spread a pamphlet several days later, entitled “Peace or War? A Challenge, an Appeal and a Plan,” pushing his previous condemnation toward a natural solution: to establish a League of Truth, whose name was apparently taking from the term “League of Nations” and the theosophical slogan—“There is no religion higher than Truth.” He announced that this League of Truth comprised all nationalities, creeds, colors and races, and invited those interested to write to him—the initiator and of course the leader of this religio-political league13.

But he misunderstood his true significance to his actual Chinese supporters—the high officials (about which is to be discussed later)—and took it too superficially in understanding the true relationship between politics and religion in China, which was different from the Western separation of church and state or the Tibetan theocratic unity. In the eyes of these Chinese celebrities, it was an absurd picture: a political loser in Europe was instructing the Chinese politicians how to navigate politics in China and was demanding that they help him override all governments, including the Chinese one. Anyhow, since then, no other political monologues had a chance to go public till his leaving. Even when the unlawful visit of Lord Marley and his small delegation was naturally linked to his League of Truth by scornful English newspapers, well-disciplined Chao Kung simply denied the claims, choosing not to initiate any new frictions (CP 1933f; ST 1933b; SB 1933d).

5.3. Persona of a Buddhist Celebrity at Various Meetings

In contrast to the strangulation of his political attempt, his persona of a Buddhist celebrity seemed on steady display. On September 11, the Pure Karma Buddhist Association invited Chao Kung to talk about Samantabhadra. On 12 September 1933, a spectacular reception was held. Mingdao 明道 (?–1935), the chairman of the Buddhist Society of China, and Guan Jiongzhi 關炯之 (1870–1942), the president of the Pure Karma Buddhist Association, delivered their welcoming speeches. Chao Kung once again expounded his Europeanized Theravada thought and two of his followers expressed their gratitude to the hosts. In addition to these supportive societies, those who had criticized him loudly also showed their reluctant welcome in a way to keep the subtle balance between being cooperative to the celebrities supportive to Chao Kung and being honest to their own Buddhist criteria. They simply said that they hoped these European Buddhists could learn more and make progress in China. After the feast, the small party became the honored guests in various Buddhist gatherings, and they were all enrolled in the New Asian Academy 新亞細亞學會 founded by Dai Jitao (CH 1933a; SB 1933a; SDRB 1933; SX 1933f, 1933g; FB 1933c; Suiyuan 1933; Xuexing 1933).

5.4. Blackmailing the Press for the First Time

In the meantime, his wrestle with the newspapers continued. In July 1933, he complained again about being defamed by reporters, while showing off his renewed Buddhist persona. (CP 1933c) In October 1933, he went so far as to pick up one smear from countless bad words about him and claimed for damage to the First Special District Court by Zeng Xubai 曾虛白 (1895–1994), the chief editor of China Evening News, for referring to him as a noted “firearms salesman”. He won quickly and received USD 700 compensation easily, possibly because Zeng did not want to upset his supporters for such a thing14.

5.5. Tonsure of His Followers and Departure Predetermined

On 6 October 1933, he and his followers were summoned to Qixia Temple 棲霞寺 from Shanghai, escorted by Mingchang明常 (1898–1970), the director of Qixia Temple, and Zhang Nieyun 張籋雲 (1877–?), the vice president of the World Laymen’s Buddhist Association. There, two significant decisions were communicated to them: the immediate tonsure of the followers (instead of two years later), and their departure from China to Europe (instead of the sutra translation and lecturing in China). And the temple in which his disciples were to be tonsured changed from Longchang to Qixia, because Longchang Temple had been, to some extent, functioning as one of Dai Jitao’s guesthouses to accommodate Panchen, and iron-handed Dai would not allow anything uncertain to disturb his tempo in handling the Tibetan affairs. Chao Kung’s political urge was a realistic distracter, making Longchang Temple an unsuitable stage to perform a show starred by Chao Kung (SX 1933a; SB 1933c).

Then he returned to Shanghai with his small band shortly after this and headed for Qixia Temple once more on 28 October 1933, this time accompanied by a German–Chinese interpreter, after Wang Yiting and Guan Jiongzhi saw them off at the station. Unlike European agents’ secret stalking, Chinese people acted openly and effusively, ensuring that Chao Kung was closely monitored at every step (FB 1933a; SX 1933c; NCD 1933a; CP 1933a, 1933b, 1933d).

Then on 24 November 1933, just two days before the tonsure ceremony of his disciples, Chao Kung announced their would-be returning to Europe. He summoned a foreign reporter to his private quarter at Qixia Temple and delivered a few “serious words to the whole world,” especially to the unapproachable Britain, urging that every European government must grant him permission to enter and propagate Buddhism in any country he desired; if they did not comply, “they shall have to accept the consequences” (McDaniel 1933). The true meaning of the threat might be that he had to leave China anyway, and he knew he might be refused Europe again but still hoped the European powers would permit him for the sake of the seemingly forceful support he had gained in China.

Two days after he pleaded Europe with a threat, on 26 November 1933, the tonsure ceremony took place. His twelve followers became novices along with about two hundred Chinese participants and a thousand more prearranged spectators. Following the grand ceremony, a feast was hosted by Chu Minyi 褚民誼 (1884–1946), the Secretary-General of Nanjing government. On 27 November, they were accommodated in the newly built mansion of Dai’s Examination Yuan 考試院. On 28 November, a formal welcome ceremony was organized, during which Dai delivered a speech, followed by some other high officials. Chao Kung also spoke, flattering Eastern civilization one more time. Dai concluded the ceremony by announcing that it was high time to propagate Buddhism to the whole world, effectively turning this welcome ceremony into a farewell party. Afterward, he and his small group returned to Shanghai and were welcomed again by a prearranged large crowd (SX 1933b, 1933d, 1933e; SDRB 1933; SJ 1933b; FB 1933a; CP 1933e; NCD 1933c).

Then his plan at this stage was to stay in Shanghai for about three more months to prepare for his voyage to Europe with his followers and several Chinese monks. On 30 January 1934, as arranged before the tonsure ceremony, he went to Nanjing with three of his followers under Dai’s summons to pay their reverence to the newly arrived Panchen. Perhaps they also attended the memorial ceremony of the late Dalai Lama (1876–1933). This was the genuine breakthrough for him, who had been playing the Tibet trick so many times in so many years. But Chao Kung, known for his use of superlatives, did not comment on anything. Neither the English nor the Chinese newspapers were fond of magnifying his Tibet stuff. Apparently, newspapers in China were disciplined again15.

On 3 March 1934, he announced that he and his ten (only ten) European followers would return to Europe. Since no Chinese monk was to join them, they would travel as Chinese monks and nuns themselves, possibly because the only passport he had was a Chinese one in Chao Kung’s name. To fund the journey, Chinese Buddhists raised 7224 bucks in advance, among which 5000 were from Dai, 1150 from the eight cooperative temples out of numerous temples in Shanghai and its neighboring cities, 624 from two Buddhist societies in Shanghai, and 450 from Dai’s three rich associates, who were his major contacts at the same time, including Wang Yiting (200). These poor numbers shed light on the true attitude of the Chinese Buddhists—the majority’s refusal and a few forced or willful collaborations with Dai16.

On 25 March 1934, the Buddhist associations organized a large crowd again to see them off at the Customs Jetty. Then a Chinese “translation” of his thankful and humble farewell note dated 21 March was distributed by three cooperative Buddhist journals in Shanghai. This note could not find its source text or similar words, or even a similar attitude, in English newspapers. Too il-Lincoln-ly to be true, it was more likely a piece of creative writing by a Chinese literati aimed at “demonstrating” his virtue, his respect for China, and his transformation through Buddhism17. Regardless, despite the Chinese hypocrisy embedded in it, this was truly the happiest ending in his many rounds of come-and-go experience in China.

5.6. Possible Reasons for His Being Supported and Discarded by His Chinese Patrons

However, the enigmatic questions lingered after he had gone. Why was he aggrandized on such a scale? And why was he discarded so quickly? Beyond Prof. Wasserstein’s analysis from a Westerner’s perspective, these questions also warrant investigation within a Chinese context.

Chao Kung’s presence in China was during the harsh time of China’s Buddhist modernization, characterized by chaotic disintegration and reformation. This tumultuous environment created various loopholes for opportunists like Chao Kung. His tonsure was conducted by Jiyun, a novice then who was unqualified to do so, but he did. And a novice must keep the ten precepts 沙彌十戒, including “not to lie”—the precept he had been violating unremittingly, and the two he was always looking forward to violating—“not to live extravagantly, not to keep money for one’s own sake.” In a word, Chao Kung did not meet the standard of a monk, but he was ordained, like many unqualified Chinese.

Longchang Temple was a renowned precept temple 律寺 whose monks should keep the precepts to the strictest level. But the descriptions of Chao Kung’s ordination and the subsequent Chinese criticisms highlighted the normalization of precept violation within this temple and in many other temples. Despite whatever improprieties, Chao Kung managed to complete the procedure, which meant the procedure itself was internally corrupted. His aspiration to be a missionary was embraced by some religious authorities of the Buddhist reformers who were fully aware of his lack of qualifications. This situation underscored the split between the ideal and reality of the global mission, which Chao Kung and many religio-political Chinese celebrities exploited. And both luckily and unluckily enough, Chao Kung’s comeback coincided with Dai Jitao’s management of Tibetan affairs, particularly his overly respectful treatment of the ninth Panchen, the current living Buddha.

During the Tibetan internal conflicts, coupled with external power struggles involving Russia, Britain, Japan, and China, Panchen fled and sought refuge in China. He was highly valued by the Beiyang government 北洋政府 under Duan Qirui 段祺瑞 (1865–1936), and even more so by the later Nanjing government under Chang Kai-shek, in which Dai played a crucial role. In 1930, Dai invited Panchen to visit the capital city of Nanjing and made meticulous preparations for his arrival on 4 May 1931, just several days before the grand precept-receiving ceremony in which Chao Kung attained his monkhood. Dai and Panchen reached some significant agreements, including Panchen’s return to Tibet with China’s support and his support for China’s interest in return. To facilitate this, Dai followed the tradition, pushing the national government to bestow upon Panchen top religio-political titles, including “Huguo xuanhua guanghui dashi” 護國宣化廣慧大師 (nation-protecting and edict-transmitting venerable master with vast wisdom), Guoshi 國師 (national preceptor), Xichui xuanhuashi 西陲宣化使 (envoy of edict-transmitting in the Western frontier), and Member of the National Committee 國府委員, and later even announced him to be the Lord of Shambhala, which was exactly Tibet, against Russia (announced by Agvan Dorjie) and Japan (announced by Japanese nationalists).

To demonstrate the worthiness of these Chinese honors bestowed upon the Tibetan leader in exile, Dai and Juzheng 居正 (1876–1951), another high-ranking official, kowtowed to Panchen and formally became his lay disciples at the beginning of 1933 (HK 1933; SB 1933b; SJ 1933a). This religious ceremony was not held in any temple but in the Sun Yatsen Mausoleum 中山陵, demonstrating the government’s recognition of Panchen’s religio-political authority in a high-profile manner. Apart from such a manipulation at the administrative level, Dai initiated several large-scale Buddhist meetings 法會 presided over by Panchen for the populace, seeking divine help in bringing peace to the country and in benefiting all sentient beings. These meetings were held in both Tibetan and Chinese temples, such as Yonghe Lamasery 雍和宮 in Beijing, temples on Putuoshan near Hangzhou, and Longchang Temple near the capital, exhibiting this lord’s grace and salvation of the whole of China.

Antagonists’ outrages were ignited frequently by the political manipulation, religious fanaticism, and their corresponding damages but were all put down eventually by political forces, displaying the nationwide support before the foreign powers and Panchen’s Tibetan adversaries. However, judging from the hardships on Panchen’s homeward trip, it was hard to say these divine and spectacular dramas had achieved their expected results among the target audience. But one thing was for real: many people were sacrifices presented on the altar. Among them was Chao Kung, who had Tibet illusions for decades and finally evoked repercussions in China.

Chao Kung’s fate of returning to Europe was actually destined as early as when Dai had planned to arrange for him a new role in response to Chao Kung’s lobby for Chinese help when he landed in Shanghai on June 1933. In the Chinese political and religious context of that time, neither Chao Kung nor his small European group’s career in China was significant. So the ignorant populace felt puzzled, worried, or even angry with the spectacular support he had received from the top officials and their Buddhist collaborators. Chao Kung took it for granted that he might have won over the Chinese successfully and was very ready to embark on his religion-tinged political career. But the truth was that these Chinese collaborators were simply executing Dai’s will to fit these Europeans into Dai’s ongoing spectacular Panchen drama by creating a customized role for Panchen’s European admirers in order to exhibit that Panchen’s grace and salvation, which were not only national but also international. If these Europeans were initially not qualified enough, then he made them so by assisting in their growth and portraying them as lovable figures.

Implementing such a will was actually troublesome in the Chinese Buddhist context because such things as renting a civilian residence to function as a temple, recruiting disciples illicitly, and self-acclaiming to be an abbot were the typical vices being attacked heartedly by the reformist Buddhists and the general public. But it was not Dai’s concern whether the vitiated Chinese Buddhism looked better or worse; it was how to fit Chao Kung into the narrative of Panchen’s divine role. So Chao Kung’s illegality and inappropriateness were overlooked, covered up, or even assisted.

But Chao Kung’s egocentrism and obtuseness to Chinese politics hindered him from properly comprehending his own situation and the people around him. In July 1933, shortly after gaining Dai’s support, Paul reverted to Saul, exhibiting his messianic fantasy. Such political and religious misdeeds in late July 1933 embarrassed his supporters, which resulted in the curtailment of his originally presumed two-year stay to a date as early as possible. On 3 September 1933, the secretary of the Buddhist Society of China told the press that “their coming to study Buddhism in China is the prelude to spread Eastern culture in Europe. We shall do the honors” (SX 1933g, p. 4). Such words were repeated in the formal reception held on 12 September 1933, an occasion to welcome their arrival (FB 1933c).

As persistent Dai had planned to portray Chao Kung as a European admirer of Panchen, preparations in the Tibetan style continued. Despite Chao Kung’s reckless denial of any Tibetan living Buddha and his insistence on his Europeanized Theravada-ish Buddhist understanding, Dai presented him with the images of Tsongkhapa (1357–1419) and the ninth Panchen and taught him Tibetan mantras. Dai went further by writing a letter to his lord, requesting an interview with Chao Kung:

Recently, twelve virtuous ladies and gentlemen from six European countries came to Nanjing for their tonsure. Four are to be monks and eight to be nuns. This is an opportunity to spread Buddhism in the West. I presented them various sutras and paintings, including the images of Tsongkhapa and you the Venerable Master. I taught him how to chant the mantra of oṃ maṇi padme hūṃ. They are greatly moved by the Buddha’s grace, and accept the dharma truthfully.

Dharma is great, and so is its propagation. These Europeans will return to Europe and establish a temple to liberate the European sentient beings from suffering, and to prevent the weak nations from invasion. If they have the Buddha’s (i.e., Panchen’s) support, and if their hope [to pay homage to you] is satisfied, it will hold immense importance for them.

Currently they are undergoing the tonsure ceremony. They will return to Shanghai in the middle of this month and to Europe next spring. If you, Venerable Master, could personally instruct them upon your arrival, it would be greatly beneficial.

The criticisms about these Western Buddhists are just evil slanders…

(Dai 1936)

In addition to Dai’s Buddhist jargon, this letter revealed Chao Kung’s mask crafted by Dai, with which his Chinese life went on. On 30 January, 1934, he and three of his followers were summoned to pay reverence to Panchen, who had just arrived in Nanjing on 24 January 1934. Perhaps they also attended the memorial ceremony of the late Dalai Lama, although the details were unknown. After all the necessary plots had been executed, the grand and dramatic chapter of their lives in China came to a close. On 25 March 1934, the party embarked on their voyage to Lake Constanza in Germany to set up a Buddhist temple, as they announced.

6. Struggles for Both Living and Leaving: 1934–1939

6.1. Back from Europe but Outcast in China

Chinese newspapers followed his every movement, brimming with anticipation of either his success or his failure. So, when he experienced rejection in Belgium, refusal in Canada, and arrest in Britain on his way to Germany, with Japanese obstruction when he attempted to make Japan his future asylum, Chinese eyes were following him closely. This farcical series of events triggered an outburst of suppressed anger and sarcasm aimed at Chao Kung, Dai, the national government, and the collaborative Buddhist celebrities. But that neither weakened the power of Chinese religio-political celebrities nor kept Chao Kung away from China18.

Several days before his arrival, Chao Kung notified his former supporters in Shanghai. When he and his seven (not ten, and some were new faces) followers arrived on 19 June 1934, they visited China Press, accompanied by some Chinese, officially announcing his arrival in his skillful enemy-making manner: condemning in front of a journalist the journalists’ unfair treatment of him and telling the press that he would not tell it anything. Since his former residence was already rented out, they stayed at the extravagant Astor House Hotel and then the shabbier Burlington Hotel for some days. On 20 June, he visited one of the Buddhist associations that had honored him as an extremely venerable guest but met nobody significant. Then, on 21 June, they went to Qixia Temple, attempting to seek shelter. But the Chinese rejected them with the excuse that Chao Kung’s actions had drawn the attention of the police. Subsequently, the press lost track of his whereabouts19. According to Prof. Wasserstein, he was also busy arguing with the hotel management over unpaid bills. (Wasserstein 1988, p. 259–60)

6.2. Persona Self-Designed as a European Victim

He knew his good old days had gone and were never to return. He then tried to find a way back to Europe by portraying himself as a religio-political victim of the West. On 7 July 1934, he vehemently condemned the postal ban imposed on the “Oriental Affairs” column in North-China Daily News. Then, using this as a pretext, he began to denounce the whole Christian Europe for forbidding him—an ordinary European—from freely traveling in Christian Europe, and forbidding him—a peaceful Buddhist abbot so adored by the Chinese—from propagating Buddhism in Christian Europe. On 10 July, he extended a friendly and peace-seeking gesture to the European governments, announcing that those harsh words he had said in Qixia Temple were not uttered from his mouth, but a mere fabrication of the reporter and the editor. On 12 July, he urged these countries to answer him (NCD 1934d, 1934g; Chao Kung 1934; CP 1934e).

No government ever responded. But newspaper readers could not help engaging in a bit of back-and-forth in North-China Daily News. R.C. modestly listed the various causes for his European sufferings. An editor pointed out that the existence of many successful Buddhist missionaries in European countries hardly constituted evidence of Christian persecution. M.H.T implored him to be so kind as to forgive Britain, as kind as Buddhism taught him so; otherwise, he would be a mere politician, letting go of his religious crap. A pro-Jewish Catholic sarcastically explained the fundamentals of Christianity and the meaning of truthfulness to this former preacher of multiple Christian denominations. H.A.T and M argued that Chao Kung was not a true Buddhist. Even his former friend E. Kermode criticized him in detail and suggested his suicide for the good of humanity. Apparently his trick of playing a victim did not work at all. He was at a loss for a while, resorting to his usual emotional rhetoric, only to be met with further sarcasm and criticism (NCD 1934b, 1934c, 1934f).

6.3. Sale of His League of Truth Version 2.0

Having failed in attempting to go back to Europe in such a way, he began another round of living a “secluded” Buddhist life by drifting almost monthly from one unwelcoming temple to another. In August, the band was seen in Longtan Temple 龍潭寺, dozens of miles away from Qixia Temple. In early September, they were said to live in Li’an Temple 理安寺, a small, remote hut in Hangzhou, lecturing or visiting bigger temples nearby, such as Ma’nao Temple 瑪瑙寺 and Lingyin Temple 靈隱寺, to earn some treats and find opportunities for a better dwelling20.

In October, they returned to Shanghai, where his religious career had been buried deep. But politics was always needed, as he anticipated. In December 1934, this uncreative political thinker picked up his previously abortive League of Truth. He made some amendments (hence referred to as the League of Truth version 2.0), trying to make money or fame by playing savior again. To promote his League 2.0, he interviewed reporters to criticize the ongoing war and authored an article titled “A Thousand Questions in Human Life” to deny the popular ideologies. Several newspapers did run advertisements for his long articles, at least for the consideration of their own sales volume. But again, nobody cared. It seemed that Chao Kung, the savior, had no chance to be born, neither with nor without Dai Jitao’s strangulation21.

6.4. Involvement in His Female Follower’s Suicide Scandal

After these repeated failures, he recoiled again to a “secluded” Buddhist life. On 15 April 1935, the band moved from the bustling and costly city of Shanghai to Huading Temple 華頂寺, situated on a remote mountain in Tiantai county. It seemed he could not escape from the monthly relocation curse, but this time for a reason abhorrent to most people—the involvement in the suicide scandal of Tao Ta 道達 (Hertha Henschel), a German female follower who hanged herself on the morning of 28 May 1935. He reported the incident to the local authorities and the German Consulate. Next afternoon, the county officials came and examined her. There were claims that she had been ill-treated by Chao Kung, which he denied. It was also alleged that the other followers had been on a hunger strike to protest his ill treatment, which he also denied. In any case, his involvement fueled the Chinese public’s detest for him. At the county government’s request, they left Tiantai and went back to Shanghai. He even turned such a tragedy into an advantage. Upon their arrival in Shanghai on 26 July, he went to China Press, protested vigorously first, and then talked about politics enthusiastically, which yielded neither forgiveness nor assistance22.

He began to find ways to return to Europe again. But the sad story did not end here and developed into a Rashomon instead. The German Consulate General claimed that he was informed of Chao Kung’s request to exempt the lady’s private parts during the body examination and thus demanded verification by the local authorities. On 6 September, he wrote a letter to the General, denying that he had ever requested this. It was not clear who was lying. In an unexpected development, the Tiantai government, which had lost track of him for almost half a year, suddenly found him in the news of Zaria case (which is to be discussed later). They promptly brought him to court on 15 December, where Chao Kung declared his innocence again and steered the case into a political direction—accusing the German General of lying and entrapping him because he took an anti-Hitler stance. For some unpublished reason, all the English and Chinese newspapers stopped reporting on the case at this very moment, indicating some unknown force at play (SX 1935a; SB 1935a; SHB 1935; XW 1935; MB 1935).

6.5. Attempt to Sail Back to Europe

After being driven out of Tiantai county, he lived somewhere in Shanghai, once staying in a boarding house at No.23 rue Corneille in the French Concession (Wasserstein 1988, p. 243). Enlightened by Gene Roubin, an adventurous young mariner who was stranded in Shanghai and was seeking a boat to sail away, Chao Kung told China Press on 14 September 1935 that he would sail around Capetown to Spanish Madeira to open a Chinese Buddhist monastery. To facilitate this, he would buy or charter a ship with flying colors and an auxiliary motor, structured in such and such a way; then, he would engage a crew of four or five men and a competent navigator. Of course, such a noble ideal required money to achieve. Since he had no money, it was the noble obligation of Chinese riches. With the imagination of money flooding in, he kept telling the public on many occasions that they were about to leave and kept applying for a passport through deception and threats to European countries (Wasserstein 1988, pp. 261–63). This farce of a boat-sailing voyage lasted for almost a month, with rumors occasionally surfacing, until he finally abandoned the plan in October 1935, because not a Chinese dime came in for that noble purpose, and the consulates of European countries were habitually alert to him (CP 1935d; DM 1935a; SX 1935c; NH 1935a).

6.6. Blackmailing the Press for the Second Time

Besides earning a small amount of money by attending Chinese and similar rituals, he turned to his old trick of blackmailing the press, too. In November 1935, he filed a lawsuit against a Russian newspaper, The Shanghai Evening Zaria, claiming that he had been libeled in an article entitled “Trebitsch Lincoln in Abyssinia” and thus demanding USD 10,000 in compensation. It was not the first time he had done so in China. As early as October 1933, he filed a claim for damage against The China Evening News, demanding USD 700 in compensation. The case closed quickly and favorably for him due to the influence of his powerful Chinese protectors. But he was now already abandoned. This lawsuit lasted for almost three months until he failed completely on 25 February 1936. With nobody’s interference, the case was conducted fair and square, with a professional defense team in contrast to Chao Kung’s weak legal representation: a prosecuting lawyer with questionable qualifications and a bunch of ornaments to prove his monkhood—yes monkhood, not legal prowess. Chao Kung,

dressed in a Buddhist monk’s attire, sat silently in the court with two of his male followers, and on his lawyer’s desk spread several Buddhist monkhood certificates, a booklet with Dai Jitao’s hand-written greetings, a photo of Qu Yingguang 屈映光 (1881–1973), and several Buddhist books. It is said that these are to demonstrate his identity of a Buddhist believer.

(LB 1935b)

But his monkhood was irrelevant to the case. These items were merely a wishful exhibition of his relationship with Dai and Qu, hinting at a preferable verdict for the sake of these two big men. But it was not that the court could neglect Dai and Qu, but that the Chinese knew clearly that things would not have come this far if the two big men had wanted to help him. He lost completely. The gleeful judge and defendant mocked him, saying that since a monk does not desire money, failing to win compensation meant little of significance to him23.

6.7. Move from Shanghai to Tianjin

It definitely meant a lot of significance to him. Defeated in the case, this poor householder and homesick blackmailer turned to the Shanghai Buddhist societies again. It was unknown why these societies kept offering him help anyway. In June 1936, Wang Yiting, Qu Yingguang, and Guan Jiongzhi gave alms of several hundred bucks and sent him to Tianjin Buddhists. Two months later, with their money and recommendation, Tianjin Buddhist societies helped him secure a satisfactory house at the corner of Poppe Road and Romanoff Avenue in the Third Special Area. They initially displayed their friendliness, which was interpreted by Chao Kung as a sign of a bright religious future in Tianjin. He named his residence “Buddhist House” again and transplanted his Buddhist business model from Shanghai to Tianjin, featuring Sunday lectures and weekly interviews24.

But his efforts once again fell flat. By the end of 1936, no lecture advertisements were ever seen, and curious visitors became increasingly scarce. A report popped up instead of his leaving for Huangshan 黃山. An indignant reporter warned the locals to be wary of this “harmful beast” (Gancheng 1936). It was not documented whether he had created some unforgivable new wrongs or whether people just would not let go of his indelible old wrongs.

Failed to enchant people face-to-face, he turned to writing. Short articles such as “Collective Security” (Chao Kung 1936a) appeared, but no response was received. When the verbose writer completed “Down or Doom of Humanity” in December 1936, he chose to sell it not in Tianjin but in Shanghai.

6.8. Sale of His Work “Down or Doom of Humanity”

Some unknown Shanghai Buddhist celebrities helped him in promoting his work. Several Buddhist journals advertised the article through news briefs or by publishing the Chinese translation of some chapters from mid-December 1936 to September 1937. The official journal of the World Laymen’s Buddhist Association even published a chapter from his “Why I Became a Monk”, which he wrote and lectured on in mid-1931, though badly translated into Chinese by his European follower Dao Pin 道平25. A Shanghai Buddhist journal referred to him as a venerable master, and flattered him, saying that “he had published two booklets…. Readers are all deeply impressed. From his works many people get to know Buddhism, and take refuge in it. His contribution is great” (FB 1937). The Buddhist community’s efforts were successful. Some social papers followed suit in flattery, though some uncooperative papers interpreted his negotiating travels from Tianjin to Shanghai and Beijing as performing a secret evil mission (Shami 1937; XW 1937; SZ 1937; SD 1937).

Nevertheless, these protests did not prevent Shanghai Sunday Times and Shanghai Times from serializing his work. For some unknown reason, Sunday Times only serialized five issues, whereas the Times completed the serialization and then published it as a book priced at five Yuan, very expensive at that time, and he was to share half the revenue. (FB 1937) In the introduction of his article, the editor of the Shanghai Sunday Times said:

Whatever might be individual opinions regarding the amazing career of Abbot Chao Kung (Trebitsch Lincoln) there is no doubt that he possesses a brilliant mind and the ability to bring under subjective survey the world of today as he sees it in the contemplative mood of maturity.

(Chao Kung 1937e)

The ambiguous indication “as he sees it in the contemplative mood of maturity” was soon termed as “Monk Chao Kung knows the past and the future” by somebody unknown and was further elaborated as follows:

People admire Monk Chao Kung for several reasons, the most significant of which was his supposed ability to foresee the past and the future. Prior to 1932, he had already foretold the outbreak of the war in Shanghai.

(XW 1937; Shami 1937; NH 1937)

This version of the introduction was distributed to other Chinese newspapers in late April 1937, creating his persona as a wise prophet (NH 1937), which puzzles and misleads Prof. Wasserstein. But Chao Kung’s so-called prediction talent was highly questionable, because the outbreak of a war was not hard for even common people in China to foresee. Countless Chinese articles prior to 1932 provided substantial evidence, not to mention the historian’s fallacy in a “pre”-diction in 1937 “fore”-telling that a war would broke out in 1932. And it was interesting to note that, almost at the same time, some Carl Crow, a “well-known Shanghai advertising man” and “an author of a best-seller,” predicted that “China will win as Japan will collapse” (NCD 1937). War was brutal, but if it could boost book sales, both Crow and Chao Kung would feel no hesitation to incorporate it into their marketing strategies.

The sales status of his book was unknown. Just several months later, on 1 October, this diligent author published a pamphlet titled Anti-Japanese Propaganda (Wasserstein 1988, p. 267), praising the Japanese and defaming the Chinese, apparently without any prophetic eye to foresee China’s future victory. His prediction received no notable response from the Chinese, possibly because they were preoccupied with more pressing matters in the ongoing war. But the English readers were disgusted. Along with their understandably severe curse (Wasserstein 1988, pp. 267–68), there was a revival of an old rumor that had its origins in American newspapers such as Star and Newsweek: Chao Kung was a Japanese spy. On 4 December, The China Weekly Review in Shanghai published an article titled “Abbot Chao Kung in New Role—Heads Japan Truth League” (CWR 1937), hinting that he had connections with various Japanese-controlled powers and was a member of the Japanese Black Dragon Society. The Chinese, fully engaged in the hardships of the war, did not react immediately, but his identity as a Japanese spy in some Chinese people’s eyes was more or less derived from these English articles.

6.9. Attempts to Return to Hungary

With his writing and promoting efforts in 1937, Chao Kung was applying again to go back to Europe, specifically his homeland of Hungary (Kántás 2020). In March 1938, he announced his departure for Europe in a highly publicized manner, despite not yet having received official permission or denial from Hungary. It was on this occasion that the Chinese public rediscovered this foreigner. They expressed their hatred, but not as fiercely as before, partly because they were fighting for survival, partly because he had long been abandoned and discredited in China, even by the profit-seeking press26.

The Europe-bound voyage required a large sum of money, which was easier to make in richer Shanghai than in Tianjin. In March 1938, he and his two remaining followers moved to Shanghai (Wasserstein 1988, p. 271). Since no Chinese riches would help him, he had to resort to working for it by himself. As was his tradition, Chao Kung attempted once again to market his Buddhist knowledge to foreigners in China, planning to lecture at Masonic Hall on the three mysteries solved according to the teachings of the Buddha, a theme apparently under the influence of Grimm’s linguistic style. The first lecture, priced two Yuan and titled “The Mystery of the World,” was held on 25 April at 9 p.m. (NCD 1938b; ST 1938), but ended poorly. Owing to financial losses from it, the organizer canceled another two prearranged lectures: “the Mystery of Life” to be held on 29 April and “the Mystery of the Self” on 4 May (NCD 1938a). He then turned to selling articles. In September and October, he wrote on various absurd topics in a sensational style and published them in North-China Daily News. While this approach did irritate some readers, who engaged in several rounds of argument with him, it ultimately led to the editor’s criticism and the closure of the correspondence column. His moneymaking efforts were once again thwarted27.

During this period of hard work, he applied to go back to Europe another time. He even sent his female follower Tao Lo 道樂 (Margot Markuse) back to Hungary to explore the possibility of the government granting his return. She departed on 17 May, arrived in late July, and presented Chao Kung’s request faithfully. In December, two months after the nasty end of his moneymaking efforts, Hungary’s refusal came. Once more, the world had to witness his failure and endure his fictitious excuses, angry words, and irrational threats. He then sadly announced that Shanghai would be the place where he would spend the rest of his days (Kántás 2020; SB 1938; CP 1938a; NCD 1938c; SHB 1938; JNB 1938; FB 1939).

6.10. Sale of His League of Truth Version 3.0

It was not true. He kept trying to escape from warring China, this time by restarting the sale of his League of Truth. Presenting its version 3.0 in the correspondence column of China Press in March 1939, he initially appealed to the Pope to renounce Christianity and embrace his genuine Truth. Then, he attacked Hitler. Following these preludes, he called for a unified alliance of Germany, Italy, Japan and China. He also predicted the hardships that would be confronted by every warring country and called for a peace conference. No immediate response was received. But he would not stop. On 18 May, a piece of news from Ceylon reached China, suggesting he was planning to execute his League of Truth 3.0 in Ceylon, but the next day he denied it. This back-and-forth was more like a trick to emphasize the importance of China in order to seek Chinese help. But still, nobody responded (CP 1939a, 1939b, 1939c, 1939d).

6.11. Sale of His League of Truth Version 4.0

Still, he was trying. Starting on 2 September 1939, he launched the sale of his version 4.0. His preparatory step was making war predictions. Hinting at something mysterious, he called for a peace conference. His words generated his opposition and sequential defense in 7 October 1939. But several articles later, people lost interest. On 20 December 1939, he pushed his idea to its extreme, warning all warring nations that they must accept his conference invitation or else face punishment from the Tibetan supreme masters. He also promised that if they participated in the global peace conference, he would endeavor to help restore the world order. On 1 January 1940, he announced that he had sent a message directly to President Roosevelt, requesting an opportunity to outline certain proposals for world peace. Then he informed the Chinese press that the president had accepted his proposal and would hurry to Washington by the quickest route for discussions with him. He then urged the US Consul General in Shanghai to grant him a visa as soon as possible because he planned to leave Shanghai the following week (Chao Kung 1939a, 1939b, 1939c; CP 1939e, 1940; JNB 1940a; JNB 1940b).

A pause is needed here to trace the development of his League of Truth, because the logic of his words often diverged from that of his actions. As described before, this League first appeared in August 1933, when he was a favorite of Dai, but was suffocated largely due to the discrepancy between the persona of a religio-political savior of China (and the world maybe) designed by him and the persona of a European admirer of Panchen designed by Dai. Its version 2.0 came to the public in December 1934 as one of his attempts to make money and to regain Chinese support when he was deported back to China from Europe and had lost Chinese backing. This time it ended with sarcasm, criticism, and neglect. Failing in all the attempts, he did not mention it for more than four years. His third and fourth versions in 1939 differed from the first two in that they were more thoughtfully planned and executed step by step. In that year, he had attempted various ways to escape China. As Europe was a dead end and Japan had previously rejected him, the US seemed to be his only choice. He turned to Roosevelt partly because two years earlier, in about 1937, President Roosevelt had proposed a challenging worldwide peace conference. Seeing an opportunity in aligning the inclusiveness of the president’s proposal with his League of Truth, he first attacked the Pope (the religious leader) and then Hitler (a political leader) to build up their counterparts: the Tibetan supreme masters (the religious leader) and Roosevelt (the political leader). Since he was neither a Tibetan Buddhist nor a Panchen admirer, as argued previously, there was only one genuine authority he was attempting to win over: Roosevelt. He hoped that the US would appreciate his creative solution and grant him a visa to the US in return. It is reasonable that this was the ultimate aim of his literary efforts. But the destiny of this proposal was the same as its three predecessors. The US Consulate in Shanghai refused him (Wasserstein 1988, p. 274).

7. Death: 1943

By the end of 1940, there were reports suggesting that Chao Kung was planning to head to Japan to discuss Japanese control of Asia (NCD 1940). But no further reports followed. Half a year later, on 24 June 1941, he sold an article discussing the world situation in his usual tone (Chao Kung 1941). Still no responses were found. According to some dubious descriptions in reliable sources, he later worked as a freelance spy, collaborating with Germany and Japan (Wasserstein 1988; Holch 2020). Having been abandoned by Chinese celebrities for a long time, he actually lacked access to the information needed. So, either the secret agents were misled, or the newspapers mistook him stereotypically.

7.1. Reports and Verification of His Death

The last confirmed information about him was his obituary and funeral. He died at the age of 64, nineteen years earlier than his own prediction of death. His death occurred at 9 p.m. (or 6 p.m., or 8 p.m.) on 7 (or 6) October 1943. He died in the General Hospital 公濟 (or 仁濟) 醫院 due to intestinal trouble following an operation, with no relatives or followers by his side. The funeral was conducted by a group of monks from Fazang Temple 法藏寺 and began at 8 p.m. on 8 October at the International Funeral Directors 萬國殯儀館. He was buried on 9 October at Pahsienjiao Cemetery 八仙橋公墓 (or the First Special District Cemetery 第一區公墓). While there were slight differences in details of the various reports, his death and the cause of death were confirmed by three photos taken by Basch Brothers and a statement by Bonde-Lee, a mourner at the funeral, who was also the doctor performing Chao Kung’s postmortem examination. All reports suggesting that he was poisoned by the Japanese, that he was still living as a monk in Tibet, or that he was engaging in nefarious activities in India were groundless fabrications28.

7.2. Two Posthumous Articles

After his death, “The Essence of Buddhist Philosophy” (Chao Kung 1943b) with its Chinese translation 佛教哲學精華 (Chao Kung 1943a) and “Buddhist Revival in China” (Chao Kung 1944) were published in Crump’s bilingual journal Buddhist China 中國佛教季刊. The former was a summary of the key ideas from Grimm’s two books—Buddhist Wisdom: the Mystery of Self and Doctrine of the Buddha—in which Chao Kung asserted that the Buddha’s teachings provided the true and eminently practical solution for liberating humans from suffering and then attaining lasting happiness. In his second article, Chao Kung criticized China for adopting some fallacies and superstitions of the Occident and for its regard of neither the absolute correctness of the Buddha’s teaching nor its power of salvation. He also urged the Chinese government to take measures to revive Chinese Buddhism. In his article, this revival primarily entailed reforming the Chinese monkhood by implementing several monastic laws, which he selectively drew from the Vinaya. It was interesting to note that, according to these well-chosen laws, his every step towards monkhood was unlawful. Chao Kung negated Chao Kung at last. This was either his continuous denial of Chinese Buddhism or a haughty gesture of penitence for his religious misdeeds as a monk certified in China; it was also a little bit of realization of the “extinguished self” starting from “suffering self” and through a “delivered self,” in Grimm’s words, which he embraced as true Buddhism.

8. Summary

Religion was an integral part of Lincoln/Chao Kung. In his early years, Judaism was the natural habitat for this Jew. His later conversion to Christianity likely had more to do with career prospects than spiritual conviction, and his failures in all its denominations might have contributed to his everlasting hatred for and condemnation of this religion. With Christianity’s decline in the West, theosophy became popular, but he quit it halfway, probably because its puzzling diversities and infightings weakened its power with which to counter the Christian West or to earn him a living. Buddhism, supported by its Eastern origins, was experiencing a rising trend in the West, making it an appealing choice as both a way to relieve his sufferings and a way to earn a living. In his final two decades, Chao Kung dedicated significant effort to learning, believing in, lecturing on, and writing about Buddhism. He thought the only Truth was the Buddha’s teachings, uttered orally and recorded correctly in the four Agamas, in which such doctrines as the Four Noble Truths and four stages of dhyana were sometimes mentioned. He also echoed Grimm in announcing that all the problems of human beings could be summarized into three—the problems of the world, of life, and of self—and these three questions were essentially one: the problem of self, i.e., suffering. His increasingly forceful elaboration of suffering was possibly driven by the accumulating sufferings he himself had been experiencing throughout his life. Since the self was the primal cause of all problems, no-self was its very solution, i.e., quitting and renouncing one’s worldly will or desires to obtain true happiness. Chao Kung preached this doctrine, but apparently his own worldly desire for glorified dignity, power, fame, leadership, wealth, or similar things was too hard to renounce, preventing him from attaining his true happiness of no-self.

Leaving theosophy and following orientalists such as Grimm marked Chao Kung’s shift from mystical illusions to rational knowledge. But knowledge alone was not Buddhism; it should be coupled with practice in order to be transformed into wisdom. He was aware of this as he claimed to practice it and was observed doing so. He was even (mis)attributed the translatorship of the “118th Discourse” of the Pali Madhyama agama Sutta (Chao Kung 1938a), aiming to instruct meditation. But no clue could be found in his numerous articles or the countless news reports to determine how he contemplated or which level he might have achieved. It was likely that his contemplation was not Buddhist, because he lacked proper guidance, like other Western pursuers who turned to Mahayana in China and Japan, or Theravada in Thailand, Ceylon, and Myanmar but were “often discouraged and lose their interest as they see it illustrated by the lazy monks and dirty temples of Oriental lands; or they become baffled by its voluminous literature and its many sects with their widely divergent practices and teachings” (Goddard 1930). What was worse specifically for Chao Kung was that, unlike his Judaic forefathers in Rome, when stuck in China, he did not do as the Chinese did, losing the only guidance attainable to be either a practitioner or a preacher. In short, every step he took toward salvation was faltering. The Buddhism of his age failed him as his previous beliefs did.