The question is (in the first place) whether it may not be possible for a father to owe more to a son, in other respects, than the son owes to his father for his being? That many sons are both greater and better than their fathers, there is no question; as there are many other things that derive their beings from others, which yet are far greater than their original. Is not the tree larger than the seed? the river than the fountain? The foundation of all things lies hid, and the superstructure obscures it. If I owe all to my father, because he gives me life, I may owe as much to a physician that saved his life; for if my father had not been cured, I had never been begotten: or, if I stand indebted for all that I am to my beginning, my acknowledgment must run back to the very original of all human beings. My father gave me the benefit of life: which he had never done, if his father had not first given it to him. He gave me life, not knowing to whom; and when I was in a condition neither to feel death nor to fear it. That is the great benefit, to give life to one that knows how to use it, and that is capable of the apprehension of death. It is true, that without a father I could never have had a being; and so, without a nurse, that being had never been improved: but I do not therefore owe my virtue either to my nativity or to her that gave me suck. The generation of me was the last part of the benefit: for to live is common with brutes; but to live well is the main business; and that virtue is all my own, saving what I drew from my education. It does not follow that the first benefit must be the greatest, because without the first the greatest could never have been. The father gives life to the son but once; but if the son save the father’s life often, though he do but his duty, it is yet a greater benefit. And again, the benefit that a man receives is the greater, the more he needs it; but the living has more need of life than he that is not yet born; so that the father receives a greater benefit in the continuance of his life than the son in the beginning of it. What if a son deliver his father from the rack; or, which is more, lay himself down in his place? The giving of him a being was but the office of a father; a simple act, a benefit given at a venture: beside that, he had a participant in it, and a regard to his family. He gave only a single life, and he received a happy one. My mother brought me into the world naked, exposed, and void of reason; but my reputation and my fortune are advanced by my virtue. Scipio (as yet in his minority) rescued his father in a battle with Hannibal, and afterward from the practices and persecution of a powerful faction; covering him with consulary honors, and the spoils of public enemies. He made himself as eminent for his moderation as for his piety and military knowledge: he was the defender and the establisher of his country: he left the empire without a competitor, and made himself as well the ornament of Rome as the security of it: and did not Scipio, in all this, more than requite his father barely for begetting of him? Whether did Anchises more for Æneas, in dandling the child in his arms; or Æneas for his father, when he carried him upon his back through the flames of Troy, and made his name famous to future ages among the founders of the Roman Empire? T. Manlius was the son of a sour and imperious father, who banished him his house as a blockhead, and a scandal to the family. This Manlius, hearing that his father’s life was in question, and a day set for his trial, went to the tribune that was concerned in his cause, and discoursed with him about it: the tribune told him the appointed time, and withal (as an obligation upon the young man) that his cruelty to his son would be part of his accusation. Manlius, upon this, takes the tribune aside, and presenting a poniard to his breast, “Swear,” says he, “that you will let this cause fall, or you shall have this dagger in the heart of you; and now it is at your choice which way you will deliver my father.” The tribune swore and kept his word, and made a fair report of the whole matter to the council. He that makes himself famous by his eloquence, justice, or arms, illustrates his extraction, let it be never so mean; and gives inestimable reputation to his parents. We should never have heard of Sophroniscus, but for his son Socrates; nor for Aristo and Gryllus, if it had not been for Xenophon and Plato.
The first question is whether a father might owe more to his son than the son owes to his father for giving him life. Many sons are clearly greater and better than their fathers. Many things that come from other sources end up far greater than their origins. Isn't the tree larger than the seed? The river larger than the fountain? The foundation of everything stays hidden while the structure built on top obscures it. If I owe everything to my father because he gave me life, then I might owe just as much to a doctor who saved his life. If my father hadn't been cured, I would never have been born. If I'm indebted for everything I am to my beginning, then my gratitude must go all the way back to the very first human beings. My father gave me the benefit of life, which he never could have done if his father hadn't first given it to him. He gave me life without knowing who I would become, when I was in no condition to feel death or fear it. The real benefit is giving life to someone who knows how to use it and can understand what death means. It's true that without a father I could never have existed. Without a nurse, that existence would never have been nurtured. But I don't owe my virtue to either my birth or the woman who nursed me. Creating me was the smallest part of the benefit. Living is something we share with animals, but living well is the main business. That virtue is entirely my own, except for what I learned through my education. The first benefit doesn't have to be the greatest just because without it, the greatest could never happen. A father gives life to his son only once. But if the son saves his father's life repeatedly, even though it's just his duty, it's still a greater benefit. The benefit a person receives is greater when they need it more. The living person needs life more than someone not yet born. So the father receives a greater benefit from continuing to live than the son does from beginning to live. What if a son rescues his father from torture? Or even better, takes his place? Giving him life was just a father's duty, a simple act, a benefit given by chance. Besides, he had a partner in it and was thinking of his family. He gave only a single life and received a happy one. My mother brought me into the world naked, helpless, and without reason. But my reputation and fortune have grown through my virtue. Scipio, still a young man, rescued his father in battle against Hannibal. Later he saved him from the schemes and persecution of a powerful political faction. He covered him with honors from his time as consul and the spoils taken from public enemies. He became as famous for his restraint as for his devotion and military skill. He defended and strengthened his country. He left the empire without a rival and made himself both Rome's glory and its security. Didn't Scipio do more than simply repay his father for creating him? Who did more? Anchises bouncing the child Æneas in his arms, or Æneas carrying his father on his back through the flames of Troy and making his name famous for future ages among the founders of the Roman Empire? T. Manlius was the son of a harsh and domineering father who banished him from the house, calling him an idiot and a disgrace to the family. When Manlius heard that his father's life was in danger and a trial date had been set, he went to the tribune handling the case and talked with him about it. The tribune told him the scheduled time and added, as if doing the young man a favor, that his cruelty to his son would be part of the accusation. Manlius then took the tribune aside and held a dagger to his chest. "Swear," he said, "that you will drop this case, or you'll have this dagger in your heart. Now you can choose how you want to save my father." The tribune swore and kept his word, then gave a fair report of the whole matter to the council. Someone who becomes famous through eloquence, justice, or military skill brings honor to his family background, no matter how humble. He gives priceless reputation to his parents. We would never have heard of Sophroniscus except for his son Socrates. We wouldn't know Aristo and Gryllus if not for Xenophon and Plato.
This is not to discountenance the veneration we owe to parents; nor to make children the worse, but the better; and to stir up generous emulations: for, in contests of good offices, both parties are happy; as well the vanquished as those that overcome. It is the only honorable dispute that can arise betwixt a father and son, which of the two shall have the better of the other in the point of benefits.
This doesn't mean we should respect our parents any less. It doesn't make children worse, but better. It encourages healthy competition. When people compete to do good things for each other, both sides win. Both the one who loses and the one who wins are happy. This is the only honorable argument that can happen between a father and son: which one can do more good things for the other.
In the question betwixt a master and a servant, we must distinguish betwixt benefits, duties, and actions ministerial. By benefits, we understand those good offices that we receive from strangers, which are voluntary, and may be forborne without blame. Duties are the parts of a son and wife, and incumbent upon kindred and relations. Offices ministerial belong to the part of a servant. Now, since it is the mind, and not the condition of a person, that prints the value upon the benefit, a servant may oblige his master, and so may a subject his sovereign, or a common soldier his general, by doing more than he is expressly bound to do. Some things there are, which the law neither commands nor forbids; and here the servant is free. It would be very hard for a servant to be chastised for doing less than his duty, and not thanked for it when he does more. His body, it is true, is his master’s, but his mind is his own: and there are many commands which a servant ought no more to obey than a master to impose. There is no man so great, but he may both need the help and service, and stand in fear of the power and unkindness, even of the meanest of mortals. One servant kills his master; another saves him, nay, preserves his master’s life, perhaps, with the loss of his own: he exposes himself to torment and death; he stands firm against all threats and batteries: which is not only a benefit in a servant, but much the greater for his being so.
When we look at the relationship between a master and a servant, we need to distinguish between benefits, duties, and ministerial actions. Benefits are the good deeds we receive from strangers. These are voluntary and can be skipped without blame. Duties are the responsibilities of a son and wife, and they apply to family members and relatives. Ministerial offices belong to servants. The mind, not a person's social position, determines the value of a benefit. A servant can do his master a favor. A subject can help his sovereign, or a common soldier can help his general by doing more than required. Some things exist that the law neither commands nor forbids. In these cases, the servant is free to choose. It would be very unfair to punish a servant for doing less than his duty but not thank him when he does more. His body belongs to his master, but his mind is his own. Many commands exist that a servant should not obey, just as a master should not give them. No man is so powerful that he doesn't need help and service from others. Even the greatest person can fear the power and cruelty of the lowest person. One servant kills his master. Another saves him and may even preserve his master's life at the cost of his own. He faces torture and death. He stands firm against all threats and attacks. This is not only a benefit from a servant, but it's much greater because he is a servant.
When Domitius was besieged in Corfinium, and the place brought to great extremity, he pressed his servant so earnestly to poison him, that at last he was prevailed upon to give him a potion; which, it seems, was an innocent opiate, and Domitius outlived it: Cæsar took the town, and gave Domitius his life, but it was his servant that gave it him first.
When Domitius was besieged in Corfinium, the situation became desperate. He begged his servant so urgently to poison him that the servant finally agreed to give him a potion. The drink turned out to be nothing more than a harmless sleeping drug, and Domitius survived it. Caesar captured the town and spared Domitius's life, but it was actually his servant who saved him first.
There was another town besieged, and when it was upon the last pinch, two servants made their escape, and went over to the enemy: upon the Romans entering the town, and in the heat of the soldiers’ fury, these two fellows ran directly home, took their mistress out of her house, and drove her before them, telling every body how barbarously she had used them formerly, and that they would now have their revenge; when they had her without the gates, they kept her close till the danger was over; by which means they gave their mistress her life, and she gave them their freedom. This was not the action of a servile mind, to do so glorious a thing, under an appearance of so great a villainy; for if they had not passed for deserters and parricides, they could not have gained their end.
There was another town under siege. When it reached its breaking point, two servants escaped and went over to the enemy. The Romans entered the town, and the soldiers were in a violent fury. These two men ran straight home, took their mistress out of her house, and drove her before them. They told everyone how cruelly she had treated them before, and that they would now have their revenge. When they got her outside the gates, they kept her hidden until the danger was over. This way they saved their mistress's life, and she gave them their freedom. This was not the action of a servile mind, to do something so noble under the appearance of such great villainy. If they had not appeared to be deserters and traitors, they could not have achieved their goal.
With one instance more (and that a very brave one) I shall conclude this chapter.
I'll end this chapter with one more example, and it's a particularly impressive one.
In the civil wars of Rome, a party coming to search for a person of quality that was proscribed, a servant put on his master’s clothes, and delivered himself up to the soldiers as the master of the house; he was taken into custody, and put to death, without discovering the mistake. What could be more glorious, than for a servant to die for his master, in that age, when there were not many servants that would not betray their masters? So generous a tenderness in a public cruelty; so invincible a faith in a general corruption; what could be more glorious, I say, than so exalted a virtue, as rather to choose death for the reward of his fidelity, than the greatest advantages he might otherwise have had for the violation of it?
During Rome's civil wars, soldiers came searching for a nobleman who had been marked for death. A servant put on his master's clothes and surrendered himself to the soldiers, pretending to be the master of the house. He was arrested and executed without anyone discovering the mistake. What could be more glorious than a servant dying for his master? This happened in an age when most servants would have betrayed their masters without hesitation. Such generous devotion amid public cruelty. Such unshakeable loyalty amid widespread corruption. What could be more glorious than such noble virtue? He chose death as the reward for his faithfulness rather than seek the great advantages he could have gained by betraying his master.