Will you, gentlemen of the jury, empower this
man to punish his benefactor, to banish his saviour,
to hate the one who made him sane, to take vengeance
on the one who set him on his feet? Not if you do
what is just. For if I were really now guilty of the
greatest offences, there was no slight gratitude
owing me previously; keeping this in sight and in
mind, he would have done well to ignore the present
and to be prompt to forgive for the sake of the past,
especially if the benefaction were so great as to
overtop everything subsequent. That, I think, is
true of mine toward this man, whom I saved, who
is my debtor for the whole of his life, to whom I
have given existence, sanity, and intelligence, and
that at a time when all the others had finally given
up and were confessing themselves defeated by the
malady.
 
My benefaction, I think, is the greater because,


 

although I was not his son at that time and had no
imperative reason to take the case but was free
and independent, having been released from the
responsibility imposed by nature, nevertheless I was
not indifferent but came voluntarily, unsummoned,
on my own initiative; I gave my assistance, lavished
my attentions, brought about a cure, and set my
father on his feet, preserving him for myself, pleading
my own cause against his disownment, stilling his
anger by my friendliness, annulling the law by my
love, purchasing by a great benefaction my reentrance into the family, demonstrating my loyalty
to my father at a crisis so dangerous, bringing about
my own adoption with the help of my profession, and
proving myself a legitimate son in his time of dire
need. 
What do you suppose my sufferings were, what my
exertions, to be with him, to wait upon him, to watch
my opportunity, now yielding to the full force of the
ailment, now bringing my professional skill to bear
when the disorder abated a little? And truly, of all
these duties that are included in medical science,
the most dangerous is to treat such patients and to
approach people in that condition, for often they
loose their frenzy upon those who are near them,
when their ailment has become severe. And yet
none of these considerations made me hesitant or
faint-hearted. I joined battle with the disease and
measured myself against it in every way, and so at
last prevailed by means of my remedy.
 
Let no one, hearing this, be quick to remark:
“What sort of feat is it, and how great, to give a
remedy?”’ Many things must precede this; one
must prepare the way for the medicine, make the

 

body easy to cure, and take thought for the patient’s
whole condition, purging him, reducing him, nourishing him with the proper foods, rousing him as
much as is expedient, planning for periods of sleep,
contriving periods of solitude. Those who have any
other sickness can readily be persuaded to consent to
all this, but the insane because of their independence
of spirit are hard to influence and hard to direct,
dangerous to the physician, and hard to conquer by
the treatment. Often when we think we are near
the goal at last and become hopeful, some trivial
slip, occurring when the illness has reached its
height, easily overturns everything that has been
done, hampers the treatment, and thwarts our skill.