Originally one has expectations of how a Confucian scholar should appear. Who expected this contented, lively man, not showing his eighty years, speaking with a heavy Shantung accent with confidence and composure?

"To not know who Mou Tsung-san is really doesn't matter," he said laughing. The problem is not in not knowing Mou Tsung-san, but not knowing Chinese culture is another matter. In discussing the problems of culture, we enter his "turf"; he immediately becomes incisive, criticizing what needs it, not giving an inch. His eyes light up.

Everyone is looking for Chinese culture. But where is it?

Many foreigners come to Taiwan in search of Chinese culture, looking in vain among an urban landscape reminiscent of New York. So maybe their friends take them to the National Palace Museum. . . .

"How can culture be a concrete thing, to be put someplace to wait for people to come and find it," Mou argues. He says that people come looking for Chinese culture as they go to the Pyramids to seek ancient Egyptian culture. But, he points out, that Egyptian culture is dead, but Chinese culture is alive and will continue to grow.

But it is not only foreigners who make this mistake. Mou believes that Chinese also stop at superficial objects in looking at Chinese culture, and ignore the traditional spiritual side of Chinese culture.

Simply said, Chinese culture is the direction and condition of the cultural life decided primarily by Confucianism. So when we talk about the modern meaning of Chinese culture, we must talk about the modern direction, condition, meaning, and mission of this culture.

Modernization came from the west, but once it appeared it lost its geographic specificity; when something has reason, it can spread and adapt. Previously, Confucianism sought the realization of its ideals of government on behalf of the people through "enlightened kingship" but could not. Mou has hope that these same ideals may find expression in "democracy" and the "open society."

He becomes still as he becomes quiet; once he begins he speaks fluently and quickly. "As soon as he begins talking, his energy comes back," says his wife from the side, adding a footnote explaining his sturdy health.

Mou calls talking "exercise." What else qualifies? "Writing books! That's a way to stay young," says Mou so sincerely one feels convinced. But in fact devoting oneself to Chinese culture is no easy task. According to his students, each book takes away some strength. He spent eight years writing a work on Sung and Ming scholars. Without such efforts, who could stand up on behalf of Confucianism's spiritual values in this age of confused values?

"The rationality of Confucianism is not strange. It seeks to bring out the humanity and humanitarianism in each person, that's all. This style of life does not block modernization; why get rid of it?" As for the "complete westernization" advocated in the May Fourth movement, Mou doesn't care--he is determined to restore the original face of Chinese culture and thought. Through his works he has bequeathed a nearly complete explication of the history of Chinese philosophy.

"The books are all written," he says with the joyful and relaxed air of a parent letting go of a child who has become an adult.

In his books and lectures he reiterates his ideas on culture. Culture can be conceived of as having two parts. The contents of "practical culture" are found in "action," those of "artistic culture" in "thought." No culture can have one without the other.

Where there is action and experience, these must change and adjust appropriately with the times. But thought is transcendent. One hundred thousand years ago mankind had the values of filial piety, brotherly love, loyalty, and trust. They have those same values today and will one hundred thousand years from now. "How can one change man's morals as one pleases?"

Hasn't western culture, through Greece, Rome, up to today, changed in substance, in action? But they have one continuous thread: their religion. Even today in America, advanced in technology and democracy, the President takes his oath on a Bible and before God. This is the meaning of culture: it is not technology, and it is not constitutional orders.

Recently in an article in the United Daily News Mou raised the idea of a cultural structure. A country's government powers are ordered according to a constitution; that is its political structure. There should also be a cultural structure on the basis of a country's traditional consciousness. "But we only have a political structure, and no cultural structure," he argues.

"What is a cultural structure? Let's take a small example. When a President dies, his state funeral naturally differs from private ones; it is undertaken by the country and naturally includes some rites--these rites are the bequests of culture. But our state funerals are overseen by a priest; is Christianity our national religion? You don't know, I don't know. . . . But what is a Chinese state funeral? This is unclear."

Commenting on today's confusion of values, he says, "The view of those in the new tide only has man and woman, there is no husband and wife. Parents avoid their responsibilities to their children; children do not accept their parents' teaching, calling it the search for self. Democracy and freedom are good ideas, but the contents are all wrong. . . .It's like an actor whose timing is all wrong; the whole play seems not tight."

He stresses that all of life is not politics. "You still have your family. Even a scientist must be a normal man, with a wife, or father-son relations; all these need some common path to arrange them. . . Democracy and science cannot arrange your home life; for this it is necessary to rely on culture." From Mou's point of view Confucianism is the foundation stone of ethical relations between men.

At fifteen Mou left his home in Shan-tung and at twenty-one entered Peking University. First he studied western Philosophy, then studied Buddhism under Hsiung Shihli, and finally entered into Chinese Confucianism. He has not wavered in his interest for decades, and is, with Tang Chun-yi and Hsu Fu-kwan, a leading representative of "New Confucianism" at the forefront of passing along Chinese traditions for half a century.

Since the government came to Taiwan, Mou has taught at a succession of universities in Taiwan and Hongkong. Since his retirement his life has been simple; aside from occasional lectures, watching drama, and strolls, most of his time is devoted to talking about scholarship. He is surrounded by some "old students" in their fifties and "young friends" still in graduate school. He makes his permanent home in Hong Kong, but comes often to Taiwan.

His students are happy to go and receive his instruction because he doesn't waste his time on the little things. "Teacher emphasizes the mood; he believes that in just talking normally about scholarship one isn't likely to reach any definite conclusion," says one student.

At home, strolling, even going to the airport, a pure white Tang dynasty style robe solves all his clothing matters. One would expect a scholar's library to be orderly and impressive, but not even Mou's own books are placed in neat order, and scattered volumes are off to the side. "Fleeing disaster, you can't take along that many books!" explains Mou, who had to make his escape from the mainland.

Accompanying Mou on a stroll, he raised his idea of establishing an "Institute of Philosophy" as the hope of his autumn years. Its purpose would be to cultivate talent in philosophy. He is only waiting the raising of funds, after which he will return to Taiwan. He hopes to use Taiwan as a platform for getting a hearing in world philosophic circles and to contribute to cultural construction in Taiwan.

Mou does not expect applause. He is by nature contented in the realm of Philosophy. Watching Mou framed against the setting sun, we are reminded that though the fires burn lower, there is still great warmth.

[Picture Caption]

Even while he is strolling, Mou's thoughts are on the problem of Chinese culture.

"The great man never loses man's natural kindness," is the best description of Mou.

Just before leaving Taiwan to return to Hong Kong, at the Chiang Kai-shek International Airport: Mou wears his usual Tang-style white shirt; his mood is contented.

His students of later generations raise their glasses in a toast of respect at his birthday celebration. (photo courtesy of Mou Tsung-san)

His life is simple, but Mou enjoys the pleasures of tranquility.

"The great man never loses man's natural kindness," is the best description of Mou.

Just before leaving Taiwan to return to Hong Kong, at the Chiang Kai-shek International Airport: Mou wears his usual Tang-style white shirt; his mood is contented.

His students of later generations raise their glasses in a toast of respect at his birthday celebration. （photo courtesy of Mou Tsung-san）

His life is simple, but Mou enjoys the pleasures of tranquility.