A good deal more could be furnished from the records of this man's case in illustration of his pathologic disposition to lying. An ordinary negro soldier, he succeeds in projecting himself, by means of his ready and very fertile fantasy, into the most wonderful situations and in rubbing shoulders with royalty. If we inquire into the causes operative here we first of all see in the fabrications of this individual an unbounded craving for compensation for a natural deficiency--in this instance a racial deficiency. What this man lacks in reality he endeavors to substitute in his fantasy. There can be no doubt that the tendency to lie has reached such dimensions and intensity in this man's mental make-up as to make him absolutely believe in his own impossible fabrications, to render him absolutely helpless in the mazes of his fantastic creations. He is assisted in this by his craving for self-esteem, by his extreme need of compensation for a real deficiency, by his ready and fertile fantasy, one absolutely devoid of _critique_, by his extreme suggestibility, and, lastly, what is of great importance, by his extremely defective apperceptive faculties and consequent falsifications of memory.
The latter defect was particularly well illustrated in the following note from my records of the case. He was asked, in the course of my examination, to repeat a simple story known as the "Shark Story", which I shall reproduce here in full for the sake of making clear my point:--
"The son of a Governor of Indiana was first officer of an Oriental steamer. When in the Indian Ocean the boat was overtaken by a typhoon and was violently tossed about. The officer was suddenly thrown overboard. A life preserver was thrown to him, but on account of the heavy sea difficulty was encountered in launching a boat. The crew, however, rushed to the side of the vessel to keep him in sight, but before their shuddering eyes the unlucky young man was grasped by one of the sharks encircling the steamer and was drawn under the water, leaving only a dark streak of blood."
"The son of a Governor of an Oriental steamer was the captain. Now, doctor, I can't think of those little stories. It isn't because I haven't brains enough; it's because I'm so poor a scholar at reciting. I always was." "What happened to the captain?" "That I can't recollect, neither." "What happened to the ship?"