Sir Jasper Carew: His Life and Experience

by Charles James Lever

As I grew older I pushed my journeys further, and carried my explorings to the very foot of the Splugen, through that dreariest of all mountain passes, the “Verlohrnes Loch.” The savage grandeur of this desolate spot, its gloom, its solitude, its utter desertion, its almost uninhabitable character, gave it a peculiar attraction in my eyes, for there nothing ever occurred to dispel the colorings of my imagination. There I revelled at will amidst the wildest flights of my fancy. An old castle, one of the many feudal remains of this tract of country, stood upon a lone crag to the centre of the valley. It seemed as if Nature herself had destined the rock for such a structure, for while there was barely space sufficient at the top, the approach lay by a zig-zag: path, rugged and dangerous, cut in the solid granite. When I first saw this rude old tower, the melting snows of early summer had flooded a small rivulet at the base of the crag, and the stream, being divided in its course against the rock, swept along on either side, leaving the castle, as it were, on an island.

I had long resolved to scale this cliff, the view from the summit of which I knew would be magnificent, extending for miles both up and down the valley; and at last, took advantage of my first holiday from school to accomplish my purpose. The Forlorn Glen, as the translation of the name would imply, lay about thirteen miles away by taking the mountain paths, though its distance by road was more than double, and to go and return in the same day required an early start. I set out before daybreak, having packed my knapsack with food to last me while I should be away.

I never remember to have felt a greater degree of exhilaration than as I set forth that morning. It was in the month of June, that season of all others the most beautiful in Alpine scenery, since it combines all the charms of spring with the balmy air and more genial atmosphere of summer. The cherry-trees were all in blossom in the glens, and the rich pink of the apricot peeped out from many a little grove. I went along, happy and light-hearted, passing many a spot to which I had given some name of a far-away scene, and recognizing places which once had been to me the utmost limits of my wanderings. So, thought I, shall it be in after-life, and we can look back upon efforts that we once deemed stupendous, and regard them as mere tiny steps in the great steep we are climbing.

I breakfasted at a little waterfall in the midst of the wildest mountain, not a sound save the plashing waters to break the stillness; the birds gathered round me for the crumbs of my meal, and ate them within a few paces of where I sat. There was something that I felt as indescribably touching, in the trustfulness of the humbler creation, in scenes deserted and forsaken of men; and musing on the theme, I arose and pursued my way.

When I reached the Verlohrnes Loch it was still early, and I was delighted to find that the stream at the foot of the castle rock was dwindled down to a mere rivulet, and fordable with ease. I crossed, and at once began the ascent of the crag. Before I had spent half an hour at my task, however, I found that its difficulties were far greater than I had anticipated. The path was often interrupted by masses of fallen rock, and frequently, from long disuse, difficult to hit upon when once lost. Brambles and prickly pears, too, formed terrible obstacles at some places, while at others the rocks were rendered slippery by dripping water, and the danger of a false step was very great. In no wise discouraged, I struggled on; but to my astonishment I could perceive that it was wearing nigh to noon before I had accomplished more than half the ascent. I had therefore to take counsel with myself whether I should abandon my enterprise at once, or resolve to pass the night on the crag, for I readily saw that before I could reach the level plain again it would be too late to resume my homeward road over the mountain, many parts of which required daylight to traverse. Although I had never passed a night away from home, I had often told my mother that I should probably be led to do so, and that she should not feel any alarm at my absence; and she, who well knew the honest character of the mountaineers, also knew that I was known to them for miles far around. My resolve was at length taken to pass the night in the shelter of the old castle, and take the following morning for my return.

As the day wore on, the heat grew more and more oppressive; occasional gusts of wind would sweep past, followed by a dead, unbroken stillness, in which not a leaf moved. It seemed as though mysterious spirits of the elemental world were conversing together in this lone region, and the thought impressed me more powerfully as at intervals a low, half-subdued murmuring seemed to rise from the deep glens around me. At first I deemed they were self-delusions; but as I listened I could distinctly trace the sounds as they rose and fell, swelling now to a deep rolling noise, and then dying away in soft fading cadences.

My mind was stored with stories of supernatural interest, and if I did not implicitly believe the existence of such agencies, yet I cannot affirm that I altogether rejected them. I was in that state in which, while reason is unconvinced, the imagination is still impressed, and fears and terrors hold sway, when the very causes of them were stoutly denied reality. One of the commonest of all the superstitions of mountain regions is the belief in a certain genius who invariably resists the intrusion of mortals within the precincts of his realm. The terrible tales of his vengeance form the subject of Alpine horrors, and the dreadful miseries of those who have incurred his displeasure point the moral of many a story, and “the Kobold of the Lost Glen” held a proud pre-eminence among such narratives. The heat, as I have said, grew oppressive; it became at last almost stifling, for the clouds descended near the earth, and the atmosphere became dense and suffocating. A few heavy drops of rain then fell, pattering slowly and lazily on the leaves; and then, as if at the word of some dread command, the thunder rolled forth in one long, loud, continuous peal that seemed to shake the very mountains. Crash after crash followed, till the very rocks seemed splitting with the loud artillery, while through the darkness of the murky air great sheets of yellow lightning gleamed, and long chains of the bright element zig-zagged through the sky; the rain, too, began to fall in torrents, and almost at once the mountain streams swelled and bounded in foamy cataracts from cliff and precipice. The din was deafening; and the loud crashing thunder with the hissing rain, the rushing rivers, and the dense shaking forests made up a grand and awful chorus. For a while I found a shelter beneath the thick foliage of the hollies, but the sweeping wind at last rent this frail sanctuary in twain, and in a moment I was drenched thoroughly.

Although still early in the afternoon, a premature night seemed to have set in, for the air grew darker and darker, till at length the mountains at either side of the glen were lost to sight, and a dense watery vapor surrounded the crag on which I stood. My position was not without peril, since if the waters did not abate at the end of some hours, I should be left to starve on the rock. This danger at once occurred to me, and my mind was already overcome by gloomy forebodings. One thing was, however, certain,—I must endeavor to reach the castle before nightfall; for to pass the dark hours where I was would be impossible. The difficulty of the ascent was now increased fourfold; the footing was less secure on the rocks, and dashing torrents tore past with a force that strength like mine could never have combated. It is with pride that I remember to have looked all those perils boldly in the face; it is, I say, a proud thought to me, even now, that as a mere boy I could meet danger boldly and undauntedly. More than once, indeed, the fatal terrors of my position stood arrayed before me, and I thought that I had seen my dear home and my kind mother for the last time; I could even speculate upon poor Raper's affliction when he came to hear of my calamity. With thoughts like these I wended my way along, ever upwards and ever more steep and difficult. Although the storm had spent much of its fury, the rain continued to fall in torrents, and the roar of the swollen streams almost equalled the deafening clamor of the thunder. The sudden transition from unbroken silence to the crash and tumult of falling waters is one of the most striking features of Alpine scenery, and suggests, even at moments of the greatest calm and quiet, a sense of foreboding peril. The sudden change of temperature, too, from intense heat to an almost biting cold, induces terrific storms of wind, almost tornadoes, by whose violence great trees are torn up by the roots, and vast rocks hurled down from crag and precipice. In turning the angle of a cliff, I came suddenly upon one of these gusts, which carried me completely off my legs, and swept me into a low copse of brushwood, stunned and senseless. I must have remained a considerable time unconscious, for when I came to myself the stars were shining in the dark blue sky of night, and the air calm, serene, and summer-like. It was with difficulty I could remember where I was, and by what chances I had come there; and it was indeed with a sinking heart that I arose, not knowing whither to turn my steps, nor whether my chance of safety lay above or below me.

I was sorely bruised besides, and one of my arms severely injured by my fall, as I discovered in attempting to use my staff. It was at that moment, thoughts of my home came full and forcibly before me; the little chamber where I used to sit for hours in happy occupation; my seat beside the hearth; my place at my mother's wheel, for she used to spin during the hazy days of winter; and, in my despair, I burst into a flood of tears. The excess of grief passed off, and there now succeeded a dogged resolve to accomplish my first purpose, and I again set out for the summit.

I had not proceeded far, when on looking upward towards the sky I saw, or thought I saw, a light twinkling through the trees above me. The foliage was dense and thick, and grew around the base of the rock which formed the immediate foundation of the castle, so that it was only at certain spots a light, if such there was, could be visible. Onward I pushed now, with a new impulse given by hope; and to my inexpressible joy, as I rounded the corner of a crag, I came full in sight of the old tower, and saw, from one of the narrow windows, the sparkle of a bright light that, streaming forth, formed a long line upon the grass.