Curr Psychol
(872–4: note morbum, insanit, morbus; cf. 889). Alarmed and concerned, he runs off
to get a psychiatrist (medicus, a medical doctor).
This scene corresponds to the first stage of Rosenhan’s experiment—gaining
admission to the hospitals. Recall Rosenhan (
1973a
):
[T]he pseudopatient arrived at the admissions office complaining that he had
been hearing voices…. [T]hey were often unclear, but as far as he could tell
they said “empty,” “hollow,” and “thud.” The voices were unfamiliar and were
of the same sex as the pseudopatient. (p. 251)
By his deception Sosicles has effectively “gained admission.” Of course, his
alleged “voices” are divine in origin and they are urging violence, but the general
point is identical: namely, that the feigning of auditory hallucinations alone suffices to
convince others that one is both insane and in need of medical treatment. Like the
doctors in the pseudopatient study, the father-in-law makes a “diagnostic leap”
between this single presenting synonym, hallucination, and a layman’s “diagnosis”
of mental illness.
Anyhow, off goes the father-in-law to get the psychiatrist—leaving Sosicles, at
long last, alone. He promptly makes a hasty escape (876–881). I will not be
discussing him again in this paper.
The father-in-law soon returns with a psychiatrist, who enters the stage a few
moments after him. The psychiatrist’s entrance marks the beginning of a new scene,
one that I call “Sanity on the Ward” (898–965).
Sanity on the Ward (Menaechmi 898–965)
As he enters the stage, the psychiatrist lets us know that he has already heard
from the father-in-law that Menaechmus is suffering from an illness (morbi,
889). And though he has not met him yet, much less examined him, the
psychiatrist is confident in his ability to treat the poor patient and restore
him to sanity (893–4):
SENEX
…illum ut sanum facias.
MEDICUS
perfacile id quidemst.
sanum futurum, mea ego id promitto fide.
FATHER-IN-LAW
…make him sane again.
PSYCHIATRIST
Of course. A snap. He shall be sane. You have my word on
that.
And upon this pronouncement—oh! There’s his patient now, coming in. He’s over
there (898).
“His patient,” of course, is the long-lost identical brother, Menaechmus—the
Epidamnian Menaechmus. He is a lawyer and he has just come home from a long
day’s work. Since the two brothers have not encountered one another yet, he has no
idea what has been afoot today. But he does know one thing: it has been a rotten day
at work, with a lot of time wasted and missed appointments—not least that date he’d
Curr Psychol
made for lunch with the courtesan: “Idiot client, who spoiled everything! I’ll kill the
ungrateful bastard!… Poor, miserable me…!” (899–908).
4
The father-in-law and the psychiatrist can hear all this ranting. Enough—it’s
time to find out just what is going on. The two hurry over to Menaechmus,
and, after offering him a brief greeting by name, the psychiatrist starts his
examination (909).
Farcical and funny as they are, these conditions effectively replicate the
second stage of Rosenhan’s experiment. Recall that in the experiment the
pseudopatients dropped the pretense of hearing voices as soon as they gained
admission to the ward. They still had the same life stories, identities, and
relationships, and they offered these details to doctors when asked. Yet despite
behaving entirely normally, they could not convince ward psychiatrists of their
sanity. As we will see, that is precisely the case with Menaechmus here. The
only major difference is that Menaechmus is an unwitting pseudopatient rather
than a deliberate fraud, and under the supervision of the psychiatrist it is the
entirety of Epidamnus that has become his ward.
Actually, it bears noting that in this respect Plautus’ experiment is arguably
more effective than Rosenhan’s. In making use of identical twins separated at
birth but with identical names, rather than making use of conscious frauds to
deceive the doctor, the Roman comedian precludes one of the potentially more
cogent objections to Rosenhan’s experiment. As one correspondent in Science
protested:
…The pseudopatients did not behave normally in the hospital. Had their
behavior been normal, they would have walked to the nurses’ station and
said, “Look, I am a normal person who tried to see if I could get into the
hospital by behaving in a crazy way or saying crazy things. It worked and
I was admitted to the hospital, but now I would like to be discharged
from the hospital.” (Fred M. Hunter in Rosenhan
1973b
, p. 361)
Whether or not such a ploy would have worked, the analogous option was not
possible for Plautus’ involuntary pseudopatient.
Our focus here, however, is less on Plautus’ pseudopatient than it is on the
psychiatrist tasked with treating him. He too is in precisely the same position as the
psychiatrists in Rosenhan’s experiment (
1973a
):
Given that the hospital staff was not incompetent, that the pseudopatient had
been behaving as sanely as he had been out of the hospital, and that it had never
been previously suggested that he belonged in a psychiatric hospital, such an
4
At v. 902 Menaechmus in frustration refers to his errand boy as meus Ulixes, suo qui regi tantum concivit
mali (“That Ulysses of mine, who caused so much trouble for his king”). The “king” is of course
Menaechmus himself (a parasite’s patron is commonly called rex). What legend is he alluding to?
Perhaps to Odysseus’ legendary malingering. On the eve of the Trojan War Odysseus feigned insanity to
avoid conscription, but was subsequently detected at the behest of Agamemnon. In the sequel Odysseus
murdered Palamedes, whose father in turn convinced Clytemnestra, Agamemnon’s wife, to take Aegisthus
as her lover—who, in turn, murdered Agamemnon (Apollodorus Epitome 6.7–9).