Disowned (3-5)

The charges on which he disowned me before can be readily understood from the present situation. To those charges I have made a sufficient answer, I

think, by my subsequent life, and these accusations which he now brings I shall dispose of to the best of my ability; but first I shall tell you a little about my position.

I who am so difficult and disobedient, who so disgrace my father and act so unworthily of my family, on the former occasion thought it behoved me to make little opposition to him when he was making all that clamour and straining his lungs. On leaving the house, I expected to have a grand jury and a true verdict in my subsequent life, with its disclosure that I was at a very great remove from those offences with which I had been charged by my father, that I had devoted myself to the noblest of pursuits, and that I was frequenting the best company. I foresaw, too, something like this, suspecting even then that it indicated no great sanity in a father to be angry unjustly and to concoct false accusations against a son. And there were those who held all that to be the beginning of madness, the hostile demonstration and skirmish-fire of the disease that was soon to fall upon him—the insensate hatred, the cruel law, the ready abusiveness, the grim tribunal, the clamour, the anger, and in general the atrabiliousness which impregnated the whole proceedings. Therefore I expected that perhaps I should some day need a knowledge of medicine.

I went abroad, then, studied with the most famous physicians in foreign parts, and by dint of great labour and insistent zeal thoroughly mastered the art. On my return I found my father by then defin-

itively insane and given up by the local physicians, who had not profound insight and could not accurately distinguish different forms of disease. Yet I did as was natural for an uprigne son to do, neither cherishing a grudge because of my being disowned, nor waiting to be sent after; for I had no fault to find with him personally, but all those offences were of extraneous origin and, as I have said already, peculiar to the disease. So I came without being called, but did not begin the treatment at once. It is not our custom to do so, and the art of medicine does not recommend that course; we are taught first of all to observe whether the disease is curable or irremediable and beyond the limits of medical skill. Then, if it is manageable, we put our hands to it and make every effort to save the patient; but if we see that the ailment already has the upper hand and is victorious, we do not touch it at all, observing an ancient law of the progenitors of the art of medicine, who say that one must not lay hand to those who are overmastered.[*]

Since I saw that my father was still within hope and his ailment not beyond professional skill, after long observation and accurate investigation of all details I set my hand to it at last and compounded my remedy confidently, although many of those present were suspicious of my prescription, critical of my treatment of the case, and ready to bring charges against me.

My stepmother was present also, panic-stricken and distrustful, not because she hated me but because she was fearful and well aware that he was in a bad way; she knew it because she alone associated exclusively with him and lived side by

side with his disorder. Nevertheless, without any timidity (for I knew that the symptoms would not cheat me or betray the profession) I applied the treatment at the nick of time for the attempt, although some of my friends advised me not to be overbold for fear that failure bring upon me a more serious imputation of avenging myself upon my father with poison, having conceived a grudge against him for what I had suffered at his hands.

To sum it up, he became well at once, recovered his sanity, and was thoroughly in command of his faculties. Those present were amazed, and my stepmother was full of praise, making it plain to all that she was delighted with my success and his sanity. And as for my father here (for I am able to testify on his behalf) without delay and without asking any advice in this matter, as soon as he had heard the whole story from those who were there, he annulled the disownment and made me his son once more, calling me his saviour and benefactor, admitting that he had tested me thoroughly, and defending himself for his former charges. This event gave joy to many, the men of rectitude who were there, and pain to those who preferred the disownment of a son to his resumption. I saw, anyhow, at the time that not all were equally pleased with the affair, but at once one or another showed changed colour, disturbed eyes, and an angry face, such as comes from jealousy and hatred.

Well, we were rejoicing and making merry, as was natural, since we had regained each other,