Musonius Rufus, Lectures 2.1

Lecture 2: That man is born with an inclination towards virtue.

All of us, he used to say, are so fashioned by nature that we can live our lives free from error and nobly; not that one can and another cannot, but all.

The clearest evidence of this is the fact that lawgivers lay down for all alike what may be done and forbid what may not be done, exempting from punishment no one who disobeys or does wrong, not the young nor the old, not the strong nor the weak, not anyone whomsoever.

And yet if the whole notion of virtue were something that came to us from without, and we shared no part of it by birth, just as in activities pertaining to the other arts no one who has not learned the art is expected to be free from error, so in like manner in things pertaining to the conduct of life it would not be reasonable to expect anyone to be free from error who had not learned virtue, seeing that virtue is the only thing that saves us from error in daily living. 

Look at all the different abilities and skills certain people have, and you are right to be amazed by so many of them. Some of us are born with certain strengths and gifts, and others seem to lack them completely. This man appears to be able to do it with ease, another struggles to approximate the same, and yet another cannot master it at all.

I would sit in my room practicing the bass for countless hours, and all that time spent made me barely competent.

Then I would come across some fellow, for whom the bass wasn’t even his first instrument, and he would manage what I couldn’t, while simultaneously chatting up a girl and smoking a cigarette. I couldn’t even make sense of what his fingers were doing. My hands were awkward, sore, and blistered, while his moved with a complete lack of effort.

I suspect natural talent has something to do with it, as does the true commitment of practice; there is both nature and nurture at work here. There must also be a certain acceptance of the fact that we all have talents, but that they are not evenly distributed.

I would try to be smart, but there was always someone who made me look the fool. I would try to be witty and charming, but I always ended up like potted meat instead of steak. I would try to play music, to write fine words, to create something beautiful, but it was always like straw.

So I assumed that since I was good at nothing that people thought mattered, I was good for nothing that mattered at all. That, my friends, is one of the biggest mistakes you can ever make.

Do you have a knack for this or that skill? That is wonderful, and you should pursue it, if it brings you peace and you can do good with it. Do you feel like you have absolutely no knacks at all? You probably do, even if others don’t appreciate them, but even if you didn’t, you still have one power that is always yours.

Whether you are big or small, tall or short, brilliant or a bit dim, you are still a human being. Everything else pales in comparison to the glory of that. Can you pass that ball all the way down the field? Can you run the most complex figures in your sleep? Can your smile make others melt in an instant? Wonderful.

Now can you be kind, generous, thoughtful, respectful, loving, and forgiving? All other talents aside, every singly one of us can do these things, if only we so decide. Not everyone can be an architect, or an astronaut, or a surgeon, but everyone can live in truth and love. The talent for virtue is indeed equally distributed.

This is because humanity is universal, and therefore what is right and wrong for all of us is universal. No aptitude is required, beyond having reason and will. No fancy learning is required, beyond the most basic common sense. No clever skills are required, beyond an open mind and a willing heart.

Anyone can do it, and everyone should.

Musonius Rufus observes that the very idea of the moral law requires that we think of it as applying to all, allowing for no exceptions, and without any special treatment for some at the expense of others. This is why justice wears her blindfold, as she has no preference for one or another; she treats every one of us equally. It isn’t that she is uncaring, but that she cares without conditions.

No one else will make me good, and nothing else will give me the gift of my character. I will make it, or break it, entirely through myself. Cleverness, or money, or influence will never make me a good man, just as dullness, or poverty, or insignificance will never make me a bad man.

Can’t play the bass like Stanley Clarke? No fault in that. Won’t be a decent man, like anyone can? There is my fault.

Written in 4/1999