himself occupying a field which furnished ample scope for the exertion of his powers, as well as for the gratification of his highest ambition. It was while thus engaged in the discharge of the arduous and laborious duties of this situation, that the foundation was laid of that fatal disease of which he died; for so eager was he to acquire knowledge himself, as well as to impart it to those around him, that he would not only expose himself to the foul atmosphere of the anatomical theatre during the whole day, but often subject himself to the severest toil for a considerable part of the night; while the moments which were spared from these labours, instead of being spent in relaxation, or in exercise in the open air for the benefit of his health, were employed in composing papers for the medical journals, in copying the results of his anatomical and physiological investigations, in preparing parts of his Natural History, or in carrying on other literary and scientific studies. It is impossible that a constitution, naturally delicate and predisposed to disease, could long remain unimpaired under such strenuous and unremitting exertions.

After Dr. Godman had prosecuted his anatomical studies in Philadelphia for four or five years, his reputation as a teacher became so generally known, his fame so widely extended, that the eyes of the profession were directed to him from every part of the country; and in 1826 he was called to fill the chair of anatomy in Rutger's Medical College, recently established in the city of New York.

There could scarcely have been a stronger testimony of the high estimation in which he was held, or of his reputation as a teacher of anatomy, than this appointment, in an institution around which several of the most eminent professors in the country had already rallied, and which was called into existence under circumstances of rivalry, that demanded the highest qualifications in those who were called upon to establish and maintain its reputation.

This situation, as well as every other in which Dr. Godman had been placed, he sustained with a popularity almost unparalleled. He never exhibited in public his talents as a lecturer, but he gathered around him an admiring audience, who hung with delight upon his lips. But the duties of the anatomical chair, together with his other scientific pursuits, were too arduous, and the climate too rigorous, for a constitution already subdued by labour and confinement, and invaded by disease; hence, before he had completed his second course of lectures, he was compelled to retire from the school, and seek a residence in a milder climate. repaired with his family to one of the West India islands, where he remained until the approach of summer, when he returned and settled in Germantown. In this place and in Philadelphia he spent the residue of his life.

He

In 1829, Dr. Godman thus describes his condition :-" My excessive exertion and the exposure to a dreadful climate destroyed me. My lungs became diseased, and last winter I was threatened with so rapid a decline, as to force me to escape from the climate of New York by going to the West Indies. The months of February, March, and April, my wife and I spent in the Danish island of Santa Cruz, where I very nearly perished from my disease, though I should certainly have done so in New York. On my return to Philadelphia in May, I took a house in Germantown, within seven miles of the city, where I have since resided. During the warm weather I was able to creep about, but since the first of the fall have been confined to a single room. My health during all this time has been in a very wretched state, and my consumption very obvious indeed; for I wasted to bones, and lost all my strength. Until the last three weeks past I was exceedingly low, unable to sit up, eat, or perform any function advantageously. Since the time mentioned I have greatly recovered in all respects. My cough is by no means troublesome, and I eat and sleep well. What is best of all is, that I have never had hectic since leaving New York, where I was not properly prescribed for. Notwithstanding all these drawbacks, I have had my family to support, and have done sc merely by my pen. This you may suppose severe enough for one in my condition, nevertheless necessity is a ruthless master. At present, that I am comparatively well, my literary occupations form my chief pleasure, and all the regret I experience is, that my strength is so inadequate to my wishes. Should my health remain as it is now, I shall do very well, and I cannot but hope, since we have recently passed through a tremendous spell of cold weather without my receiving any injury. All my prospects as a public teacher of anatomy are utterly destroyed, as I can never hope, nor would I venture if I could, again to resume my labours. My success promised to be very great, but it has pleased God that I should move in a different direction."

From the time Dr. Godman left New York, his disease advanced with such a steady pace as to leave but little hope, either to himself or his friends, of his final recovery. He lingered but a few months, his death occurring on the morning of the 17th of April, 1830; he being then in the thirty-sixth year of his age.

Thus early died this able and worthy man, but not before he had left behind him contributions to natural history which will preserve his memory. His chief work is his "Natural History of American Quadrupeds," well known to European naturalists,-a work marked by research, accuracy and independence of judgment, a striking proof of which is his exposure of the "fabulous history of the beaver," whose marvellous and more than marvellous sagacity was a common theme in our books of natural history till within the last three or four years.

We will endeavour to make the readers of the LONDON SATURDAY JOURNAL better acquainted with Dr. Godman, by reprinting his essays called "Rambles of a Naturalist," which will appear consecutively, in three or four succeeding numbers.

AMBITION CURED.*

JOSEPH opened the door and announced that the carriage was ready. My mother and sister threw themselves into my arms. "It is not yet too late," they exclaimed. "Abandon this project and remain with us."

"Mother! I am a gentleman, and am now twenty years old. I must make myself known to my country, and must carve a way to fame, either in the army or at the court.'

"But what, my dear Bernard, will become of me when you have left me?"

"You will be proud and happy when you hear of your son's success."

But if you should fall in battle!"

"What then? What is life that we should set such value on it? A gentleman, and at my age, should regard only glory. Oh! my dear mother, fear not that in a few short years you shall see me return a colonel or a field-marshal, or perhaps high in the offices of state!"

"And what then?"

"I shall enjoy respect and dignity." "And then?"

"All will bow before me." "Well?"

"Then I will marry my cousin Henriette; will find husbands for my young sisters, and we will live tranquil and happy on my own estate in Brittany."

"What prevents you from doing all this at once? Has not your father left you in possession of the best fortune in the country? Is there anywhere within ten leagues around a finer estate, a more handsome château, than Roche Bernard? Are you not beloved by your tenantry? When you pass through the village, do not all bow before you? Leave us not, my son; remain with your friends; with your sisters, your old mother, who may be gone hence ere you return. Waste not your energies in the pursuit of vain glory; do not shorten those days which pass so rapidly, by cares and unnecessary sorrows. Life is very sweet, my child, and the sun of Brittany is beautiful."

Thus speaking, my mother led me to the windows, and pointed to the green alleys of the park, the old horse-chestnuts covered with flowers, the lilacs, the honeysuckles which perfumed the whole air,-all that fair scene glittering in the bright sunshine. The gardener and all his family were assembled in the ante-room, sad and silent, and seemed by their looks to say, Leave us not, dear master, leave us not! Hortense, my eldest sister, pressed me in her embrace; and my little sister, Amelie, who had been looking over the engravings in a volume of La Fontaine in a corner of the room, ran up to me with the open book, crying, "Read, dear brother, read this!"

I looked-it was the fable of the "Two Pigeons." I turned hastily, and exclaiming, "Let me go! I am a man, and a gentleman; and honour and glory must be mine." I rushed hastily into the court. I was springing into the chaise, when I beheld Henriette standing at the top of the steps. She did not speak-pale and trembling, she could scarcely support herself. She waved her handkerchief in token of a last adieu, and fell senseless. I flew to her, raised her in my arms, vowed to her an undying love, and as soon as she returned to herself, leaving her to the care of my mother and sisters, I ran to the carriage without again looking

* From the French of Scribe.

back. Had I once more looked on her, my resolution would have failed me. In a few minutes we were on the high road.

For a long time my thoughts were only occupied by my sisters, by Henriette, my mother, and all the happiness I was turning my back upon; but these ideas grew less painful as the towers of Roche Bernard faded from my view; dreams of ambition and glory took their place, and filled my whole soul. What projects, what castles in the air, what glorious achievements I conjured up whilst rolling on in my post-chaise! Riches, honours, dignities, every sort of success I felt sure of attaining. I should deserve everything, and I rewarded myself in proportion. Growing higher in my own estimation, as I went onward I found myself a duke and peer, governor of a province, and a marshal of France ;-when stopping at the inn-door, the voice of my domestic addressing me modestly, as "Monsieur le chevalier," brought me to my recollection, and obliged me to abdicate my dignities.

For several days, for my journey was a long one, I indulged in the same dreams and reveries. My destination was the house of the Duke of C, an old friend of my father, and the protector of my family, who resided in the neighbourhood of Sedan. He had promised to take me with him to Paris, whither he was going at the end of the month, to present me at court, and use all his credit to procure me a company of dragoons.

It was evening when I reached Sedan, and being too late to go to the duke's château, I put off my visit till the morning, and betook myself to the "Arms of France," the best inn in the town, and the usual resort of the officers of the garrison, Sedan being a fortified town; the very streets had a warlike aspect, and even the citizens had a martial appearance, which seemed to say to strangers, "We are the compatriots of the great Turenne.'

I supped at the table-d'hôte, and took an opportunity of inquiring the way to the château of the duke de C, which was about three leagues from the town.

Any one will point it out to you," was the reply. "It is well known in the country. It was in that château that the celebrated Marshal Fabert, that great warrior, died."

The conversation now turned, as was natural among a party of military men, upon the marshal. His battles, his exploits, the modesty which induced him to refuse the patent of nobility, and the military orders which Louis XIV. presented to his acceptance, were all mentioned; and beyond all they spoke of the remarkable good fortune which raised a private soldier, the son of a printer, to the rank of a marshal of France. No parallel instance could at that period be brought forward, and it appeared so extraordinary that it was among the uneducated very commonly ascribed to the agency of supernatural causes. It was currently reported, that he had dealt in magic from his boyhood, and that he had made a compact with the devil.

The innkeeper, who was thoroughly imbued with superstition, told us with great gravity, that a man clothed all in black, whom nobody knew, made his appearance at the château of the Duke de C, at the time of Fabert's death, penetrated into his chamber and disappeared, bearing off the poor marshal's soul, which he had purchased, and had become his property; and he further related that in the month of May, the time of Fabert's death, the man in black appeared every evening carrying a lighted taper.

Such discourse lightened our repast, and we quaffed a bumper of champagne to the health of Fabert's familiar, desiring that he would take us also under his protection, and enable us to gain such battles as Collioure and La Marfée.

The next day I rose early, and repaired to the château of the Duke de C ---, a large gothic mansion, which at another time would not have attracted my attention, but which I now regarded with a strange feeling of curiosity, as I recalled the marvellous tales of the preceding evening.

The servant who admitted me, told me he did not know whether his master could be seen, or whether he would receive me. I gave him my card, and he left me in a kind of guard-room, decorated with the spoils of the chase and old family portraits.

I waited some time, but nobody came. "So!" thought I, "my career of glory and honour is doomed to commence in an ante-room." Believing myself a neglected suitor, my impatience increased rapidly. I had counted the old paintings, and all the cross-beams of the ceiling, ten times over, when I thought I heard a slight noise. I perceived it arose from a half-closed door which was agitated by the wind. I looked through, and discovered a small room very elegantly furnished, and lighted by two windows and a glass door, which opened upon a beautiful park. I stepped in, but was suddenly arrested by the sight that met my eyes. A man, whose back was turned towards the door through which I

entered, was lying on a couch: suddenly he started up, and, without perceiving me, ran hastily to one of the windows; tears trickled down his cheeks, and profound despair was imprinted on all his features. He remained for some time motionless, his face buried in his hands; then, raising his head, he began to pace the room with hurried steps. He was close to me before he was aware of my presence, and started when he beheld me. I was retreating, stammering forth some words of excuse for my intrusion, when he stopped me, and, seizing me by the arm, inquired in a loud voice,

"Who are you? What do you want here?"

"I am the Chevalier Bernard de la Roche Bernard, and have just arrived from Brittany."

"I remember, I remember," he replied; and, warmly embracing me, he made me sit down by him, and began to converse concerning my father and the whole family, in a manner evincing so intimate a knowledge that I could not doubt he was the master of the house.

"

"You are, I presume," said I, at length, "M. de C." He rose, and, regarding me with a haughty air, he replied, was,-I am so no more; now I am but as nothing." Perceiving my astonishment, he added, "Not a word more, young man; ask me no questions."

"I have, sir, become the unintentional witness of your grief and care; and if, by my devotion, my friendship, I could hope to afford some relief to your sorrows,'

"True, true, you are right; but you cannot change my destiny. My last wishes you may fulfil; but that is the only service that remains for you to pay.'

He rose to close the door, and then reseated himself beside me, who, trembling with emotion, anxiously awaited his words. There was something peculiarly grave and solemn about him: his face, especially, wore an expression I had never seen on any other. His forehead, which I noticed particularly, seemed marked by fate. He was very pale; his black eyes flashed fire, and from time to time his features, though worn by suffering, contracted into an ironical smile that had in it something almost demoniacal.

"What I am about to tell you," said he, "will appear incredible. You will doubt,-you will hesitate to believe it; I myself can scarcely give it credit,-at least I would I could not; but the proofs remain,-and in everything that surrounds us, in our very organisation, there are mysteries which it is impossible for us to understand."

He stopped an instant, as if to collect his ideas, and then continued:

"I was born in this château. I had two elder brothers, for whom the riches and honours of our house were destined. I was destined for the church,-a profession much opposed to my inclinations, which were fixed upon schemes of ambition and glory. Unhappy in my obscurity, and eagerly desiring renown, my thoughts were incessantly occupied in devising the means of gratifying my dearest wishes, and I became insensible to all the pleasures and delights of life. The present was as nothing to me; existed only in the future, and the prospect before me was cheerless and gloomy.

I

"At the age of nearly thirty years I had still done nothing. At that period the renown of the literary reputations that had been achieved in the capital filled the trump of fame; a new path to distinction was opened, and candidates from all quarters hastened towards it. How often I exclaimed to myself, Ah, if I could but obtain a name in the field of literature it would be sufficient to secure renown, and that alone is happiness :'

"I had made an ancient servant, an old negro, who had lived in the family before I was born, the confidant of my griefs; he was older than any one about the house, for no one remembered the time he had entered it: the country people even declared that he had known the Marshal Fabert, and had been present at his death."

Here I could not suppress a movement of surprise. My companion remarked it, and demanded the cause.

"It is nothing," I replied; but I could not help recalling the idea of the man in black whom the innkeeper had spoken of. M. de C went on:

"One day as I was giving way to my despair, and expressing my regret at the obscurity to which I was destined, and the uselessness of my life, in the presence of Yago (such was the negro's name), I exclaimed, 'I would give ten years of life to be placed in the first rank of our authors."

"What are ten years?' said Yago coldly; it is certainly paying much for a trifle,-but, nevertheless, I accept your ten

years. I take them; recal your promises if you please, I shall keep mine.'

I cannot express my surprise at this speech. I concluded that age had undermined his intellects: I left him with a smile of pity, and a few days after set out for Paris. There I found myself thrown into the society of men of letters. Their example encouraged me; and I published several works, with a success which I need not now mention. All Paris rang with my praises; the newspapers were filled with encomiums; my name became celebrated, and yesterday you yourself expressed your admiration." "What!" I exclaimed, in great astonishment, "you are not, then, M. de C-?"

46

No," said he, coldly.

"Who can this be?" I thought within myself: 66 can I be speaking to Marmontel? to D'Alembert? to Voltaire ?" The Unknown sighed: a smile of regret and disdain played over his lips; and he again took up his tale.

"This literary reputation, which I had so much desired, proved far insufficient for so ardent a mind as mine. I aspired to a nobler renown, and I said to Yago, who had followed me to Paris, and never left me,' No real glory, no true fame, can be acquired except in the career of a warrior. What is a man of letters, a poet? Nothing. Let me be a great leader,-the commander of an army; that is the destiny I covet,-and to obtain it I would sacrifice ten of the years that yet remain to me.'

"I accept them,' said Yago; 'I take them; they are mine; do not you forget.'

At this point in his story the Unknown again stopped; and, observing the disturbed and doubting expression of my countenance, he said,

"I have told you already, young man, that you would not credit my story; it seems to you a dream, a chimera! It does so to me; but yet the rank and honours I obtained were no illusion: the soldiers whom I led into the hottest fire, the redoubts carried, the standards taken, the victories which have astonished all France, all were my work,-all this glory was mine."

As he thus rapidly went on, speaking with warmth and enthusiasm, surprise held me motionless, and I said to myself, "Who is it that is beside me? Is this Coligny? is it Richelieu ? or can it be the Marshal de Saxe?"

46

From this state of excitement, the Unknown relapsed into exhaustion, and, drawing nearer to me, said, with a melancholy air'Yago spoke truth; and when, after a time, disgusted with the emptiness of military glory, I aspired to that which is the only real and positive good in this world; when, at the price of five or six years of existence, I desired gold and riches, he once more gratified my desire. Yes, young man, yes, I saw fortune seconding, nay surpassing, all my wishes; lands, forests, châteaux-this very morning all were at my command; if you doubt me, if you doubt Yago, wait-wait a very little time, and you will see with your own eyes that what bewilders both your reason and mine is but too true."

The Unknown walked to the fire-place and looked at the timepiece, gave a sign of horror, and said to me in a low voice,

"At day-break this morning I felt so oppressed and feeble that I could scarcely sustain myself. I rang for my valet, but Yago appeared in his place."

"He was turning to leave the room. I felt my powers diminishing, that life was ebbing from me.

464

'Yago! Yago!' I cried, 'give me a few hours, only a few hours more.'

"No, no,' he replied, 'it would take too much from my bargain. I know the value of life better than you do; all the treasures on earth are not worth two hours of existence.'

"I could scarcely speak; my eyes were closing, and the cold of death was seizing on my limbs.

"Well,' I at length exclaimed, making a strong effort, take back those benefits for whose sake I have sacrificed myself. For four hours of life I will give up my gold, my riches, that opulence I so ardently desired.'

"Be it so you have been a good master, and I would willingly do something for your sake. I consent.'

"I felt my vigour return, and I cried, 'Four hours is so short a time. Yago-Yago-four hours more, and I renounce my literary glory, all my works, all that has placed me so high in the estimation of the world.'

"Four hours for that,' cried the Negro, disdainfully; 'it is far too much; but I will not refuse your last request.'

"No, not the last,' cried I, clasping my hands. 'YagoYago-I entreat-give to me this evening, the twelve hours, the entire day, and let all my actions, my victories, my military fame, be effaced for ever from the memory of man-let no memorial of them remain upon the earth-the day-Yago-the whole day, and I will be satisfied.'

"You abuse my good-nature,' said he, and I am making but a fool's bargain. However, I will give you till sunset. Beyond that it is in vain to ask. In the evening I shall come for you.' "And he left me," continued the Unknown; "and this very day on which I am speaking to you is the last of my life." Then, approaching the glass door, which was open, and led into the park, he exclaimed, "I shall no longer behold these beautiful skies, these lawns, these sparkling fountains; I shail no longer breathe the balmy air of spring. Fool that I was! These blessings that God gives to all, those blessings of whose value I was insensible, and whose excellence I only now comprehend, I might have enjoyed for twenty-five years longer. I have wasted my days, sacrificed them for a vain chimera, for a sterile glory which has not rendered me happy, and is dead before me. See-see," he said, pointing to some peasants who were crossing the park, and passing singing to their labour, "what would I not give to partake their toils and hardships! But I have nothing more to give or to hope here below! No! not even misfortune."

At that moment a sunbeam, a ray of the bright sun of May, fell upon his pale, wild features; he laid his hand on me in a kind of delirium, and said,

"See-see-how beautiful is the sun! and I must leave it.I shall never enjoy it again.-Never shall I know such a bright, gladsome day-for me there is no to-morrow!"

He sprang away and ran into the park, and disappeared among the trees before I had the power to stop him. In truth, I did not possess the strength. I had fallen back upon the couch, totally bewildered with what I had beheld and heard. I rose and walked about to assure myself that I was no longer under the influence of a dream. Just then the door opened, and a servant announced

"What hour, what moment?' I cried.

"Can you not divine my meaning? Heaven allotted you sixty years of life you were thirty years old when my service to you commenced.'

"'Yago,' said I in terror,' are you speaking seriously?' "Yes, master, within five years you have expended in glory twenty-five years of existence. You have given them, and they belong to me; and the years of which you are deprived are added to mine.'

"And was this the price of your services?' "Others have paid dearer for them; witness Fabert, whom I also protected.'

"Peace, peace,' I cried; ' it is not possible, it is not true.' "You are pleased to say so; but prepare yourself, for you have but one half hour to live.'

"You trifle with me, you jest—'

"Far from it: make the calculation yourself. You have actually enjoyed thirty-five years of life, and twenty-five years you have sold. The total is sixty. That is your business; every one for himself.'

A gentleman about sixty years of age, bearing in his whole air and carriage the appearance of a man of high rank, entered, and holding out his hand, apologised for having made me wait so long. "I was not at home when you arrived," said he; "I had gone to the town to consult a physician regarding the health of my youngest brother, the Comte de C—.'

"Do you consider his life in danger?" I inquired. "No, thanks be to Heaven," replied the Duke; "but when young, his imagination was too highly excited by ideas of ambition and glory; and a serious illness from which he has lately suffered, and which we feared would carry him off, has left him in a state of delirium and alienation of mind, which impresses on him the constant opinion that he has but one day more to live. It is a delusion he labours under."