Case I

"A painter who inherited much of the patronage of the celebrated Sir Joshua Reynolds, and believed himself to possess a talent superior to his, was so fully engaged, that he told me," said Wigan, "he had painted three hundred large and small portraits in one year. The fact appeared physically impossible; but the secret of his rapidity and his astonishing success was this; he required but one sitting of his model. I watched him paint a portrait in miniature in eight hours, of a gentleman whom I well knew; it was carefully done, and the resemblance was perfect. I begged him to detail to me his method of procedure, and he related what follows: 'When a sitter came, I looked attentively on him for half an hour, sketching from time to time on the canvas. I did not require a longer sitting. I removed the canvas, and passed to another person. When I wished to continue the first portrait, I recalled the man to my mind; I placed him on the chair, where I perceived him as distinctly as if he were really there; and I may add, in form and color more decided and brilliant. I looked from time to time at the imaginary figure, and went on painting; occasionally stopping to examine the posture exactly as though the original were before me; whenever I looked towards the chair, I saw the man.

" 'This method made me very popular, and as I always caught the resemblance, the sitters were delighted that I spared them the annoying sittings of other painters. In this way I laid by much money for myself and my children.

" 'By degrees I began to lose all distinction between the imaginary and the real figure, and I sometimes insisted to my sitters that they had sat the day before. Finally, I was persuaded that it was so, and then all became confusion. I recollect nothing more. I lost my reason, and remained for thirty years in an asylum. With the exception of the last six months of my confinement, I recollect nothing; it however appears to me, that when I hear persons speak of their visit to the establishment, I have a faint recollection of them, but I will not dwell on this subject.'

"What is most surprising is that when this artist reassumed his pencil, after the lapse of thirty years, he painted almost as well as when madness obliged him to renounce his art. His imagination was still very vivid, as was proved by the portrait which I saw him take, for which he only required two sittings of half an hour each, the last of which was to look at the dress and the eyebrows, which his memory had not retained. As it was feared that the excitement, consequent on this work, would be productive of unhappy results, he was persuaded to renounce the practice of his art. He died shortly afterwards."*

This power of invoking shadows, and peopling solitudes, may be carried so far as to transform individuals present into phantoms.

Case II

Hyacinth Langlois, a celebrated artist of the city of Rouen, intimately acquainted with Talma, related that this great artist had confided to him the fact that, when he trod the stage, he could, by the force of his will, make all the brilliant dresses of his numerous audience disappear, and substitute skeletons for the living characters. When his imagination had thus filled the theatre with these singular spectators, his emotions were such as to give to his play a force which produced the most striking effects.

Since hallucination can in such a case be invoked at will, it is easy to conceive that it may exhibit itself instantaneously.