A YOUNG MAN, named Giovanni Guasconti, came, very long ago, fromthe more southern region of Italy, to pursue his studies at theUniversity of Padua. Giovanni, who had but a scanty supply of goldducats in his pocket, took lodgings in a high and gloomy chamber of anold edifice, which looked not unworthy to have been the palace of aPaduan noble, and which, in fact, exhibited over its entrance thearmorial bearings of a family long since extinct. The youngstranger, who was not unstudied in the great poem of his country,recollected that one of the ancestors of this family, and perhaps anoccupant of this very mansion, had been pictured by Dante as apartaker of the immortal agonies of his Inferno. These reminiscencesand associations, together with the tendency to heart-break natural toa young man for the first time out of his native sphere, causedGiovanni to sigh heavily, as he looked around the desolate andill-furnished apartment.
"Holy Virgin, signor," cried old dame Lisabetta, who, won by theyouth's remarkable beauty of person, was kindly endeavoring to givethe chamber a habitable air, "what a sigh was that to come out of ayoung man's heart! Do you find this old mansion gloomy? For the loveof heaven, then, put your head out of the window, and you will seeas bright sunshine as you have left in Naples."Guasconti mechanically did as the old woman advised, but couldnot quite agree with her that the Lombard sunshine was as cheerfulas that of southern Italy. Such as it was, however, it fell upon agarden beneath the window, and expended its fostering influences ona variety of plants, which seemed to have been cultivated withexceeding care.
"Does this garden belong to the house?" asked Giovanni.
"Heaven forbid, signor! unless it were fruitful of betterpotherbs than any that grow there now," answered old Lisabetta. "No:
that garden is cultivated by the own hands of Signor GiacomoRappaccini, the famous Doctor, who, I warrant him, has been heard ofas far as Naples. It is said he distils these plants into medicinesthat are as potent as a charm. Oftentimes you may see the signorDoctor at work, and perchance the signora his daughter, too, gatheringthe strange flowers that grow in the garden."The old woman had now done what she could for the aspect of thechamber, and, commending the young man to the protection of thesaints, took her departure.
Giovanni still found no better occupation than to look down intothe garden beneath his window. From its appearance, he judged it to beone of those botanic gardens, which were of earlier date in Padua thanelsewhere in Italy, or in the world. Or, not improbably, it might oncehave been the pleasure-place of an opulent family; for there was theruin of a marble fountain in the centre, sculptured with rare art, butso wofully shattered that it was impossible to trace the originaldesign from the chaos of remaining fragments. The water, however,continued to gush and sparkle into the sunbeams as cheerfully as ever.
A little gurgling sound ascended to the young man's window, and madehim feel as if a fountain were an immortal spirit, that sun its songunceasingly, and without heeding the vicissitudes around it; while onecentury embodied it in marble, and another scattered the perishablegarniture on the soil. All about the pool into which the watersubsided, grew various plants, that seemed to require a plentifulsupply of moisture for the nourishment of gigantic leaves, and, insome instances, flowers gorgeously magnificent. There was one shrub inparticular, set in a marble vase in the midst of the pool, that bore aprofusion of purple blossoms, each of which had the lustre andrichness of a gem; and the whole together made a show so resplendentthat it seemed enough to illuminate the garden, even had there been nosunshine. Every portion of the soil was peopled with plants and herbs,which, if less beautiful, still bore tokens of assiduous care; as ifall had their individual virtues, known to the scientific mind thatfostered them. Some were placed in urns, rich with old carving, andothers in common garden-pots; some crept serpent-like along theground, or climbed on high, using whatever means of ascent was offeredthem. One plant had wreathed itself round a statue of Vertumnus, whichwas thus quite veiled and shrouded in a drapery of hanging foliage, sohappily arranged that it might have served a sculptor for a study.
While Giovanni stood at the window, he heard a rustling behind ascreen of leaves, and became aware that a person was at work in thegarden. His figure soon emerged into view, and showed itself to bethat of no common laborer, but a tall, emaciated, sallow, and sicklylooking man, dressed in a scholar's garb of black. He was beyond themiddle term of life, with gray hair, a thin gray beard, and a facesingularly marked with intellect and cultivation, but which couldnever, even in his more youthful days, have expressed much warmth ofheart.
