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Updated: June 1, 2025
The natural gaiety of a Frenchman and a Tourangean soon deserted him; he became morose, fell ill, and was charitably cared for in some German hospital. His disease was an inflammation of the mesenteric membrane, which is often fatal, and is liable, even if cured, to change the constitution and produce hypochondria.
Hypochondria consists of a mild form of insanity in which there is a tendency to exaggerate the various sensations of the body and their importance, their exaggeration being at times so great as to amount to actual delusion. All sorts of symptoms are dwelt upon, and the doctor is pestered to the extreme by the morbid fears of the patient.
These convulsions are characterized by the precipitous, involuntary motion of all the limbs, and of the whole body: by the construction of the throat by the leaping motions of the hypochondria and the epigastrium by the dimness and wandering of the eyes by piercing shrieks, tears, sobbing, and immoderate laughter.
The Bar remarked the change, as well they might. His friends thought him ill. The doctor said he was troubled with hypochondria, and that his gout was still lurking in his system, and ordered him to that ancient haunt of crutches and chalk-stones, Buxton.
While he was immersing himself in this unwholesome atmosphere of hypochondria, the sound of a door opening and shutting made him start; he turned quickly around, saw a young woman approaching and smiling at him, and at last recognized Reine Vincart. She wore the crimped linen cap and the monk's hood in use among the peasants of the richer class.
The hypochondria of the ancients, the dyspeptic melancholia of the moderns, the infinite varieties of hysterical sensibility, are all well-known illustrations of this undisputed fact.
The Doctor was so thunderstricken, that he pocketed the money without uttering a word. He consoled himself, however, with the belief that Walter, whom he had tamed into a becoming hypochondria, would be sure to send for him the next morning. Alas, for mortal expectations! the next morning Walter was once more on the road.
Shaw, I have come to the conclusion that it is best, you should return. My patience is worn out. I have endeavoured faithfully to lift you above these petty miseries which you nourish so devotedly. You are simply suffering from hypochondria. You imagine yourself sick, and nothing, evidently, will persuade you that you are not.
He was depressed in hypochondria, and was physically ill. He was "destitute of faith, yet terrified at scepticism," and he returned to his home in 1768, discouraged and physically broken down.
The sickness passed off like the preceding pain; but the sensation had of late been often felt by Brandon, and disregarded, for few persons were less afflicted with the self-torture of hypochondria; but now, that night, whether it was more keen than usual, or whether his thought had touched on the string that jars naturally on the most startling of human anticipations, we know not, but, as he resumed his seat, the idea of his approaching dissolution shot like an ice-bolt through his breast.
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