Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 297, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 December 1913 — APAMBLE IN AOSTA [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

APAMBLE IN AOSTA

fHE descent by car from the St. Bernard Hospice to the town of Aosta is a swift transition from the frigid to the semi-tropic zones. The sublime but savage desolation of rocks and mountains, where, even in the height of summer, scarcely a week elapses without its fall of fresh snow, gives place with startling rapidity to the olive groves and vineyards of th® valley 6,000 feet below. Here the difference of a few thousand feet produces a richness of variety that could only be experienced by/the traverse of thousands _of miles on the more level parts of the world. It is this diversity that gives Aosta its particular charm. There is probably not another town In Europe of equal importance that is so closely overshadowed by great peaks. To this day it 'remains, as Pliny termed it, the last town in Italy on the northwest; and it is doubtless due to this seclusion that It has so completely maintained the ■character given to it by its Roman 'builders. To the traveler fresh descended from the icy wastes above, the quaint mixture of Roman and mediaeval antiquities with the modern life of the town provides the most agreeable of contrasts.* Picturesque .street vistas greet him at every turn; tat every step he is j-eminded of the doings of a bygone age. Here is a massive Roman bridge half sunken In the ground, which once spanned a •tributary river that has long since left 'its ancient channel. Near by is a .street crucifix reared close by an arch,way beneath the houses through which pass peasants, priests and soldiers to the surrounding villages. Few pass the shrine without making salutation; Aostans in general are particularly devout as compared with the natives of other Italian towns. On market days the street is traversed by peasants of the valley, gay with many-colored scarves, bringing in their produce in their native carts and on the backs ■of asses. These animals are larger 'than the common gray species, dark In color and often quite handsome 'beast®. A few yards distant is the (Honorary Arch of Augustus and the massive Roman walls, 21 feet in (height, which to this day still exist in 'their entire circuit. Blind men and cripples support themselves against ithe weather-worn masonry of the eastern gate, the Porta Praetoria, keepling up a continuous wail, calling upon passers-by to regard them in their pitiful loss of sight and health and invoking loud blessings on all and sundry to mark appreciation for favors, to come. A short ramble through the narrow streets gives many indications of the sub-alpine character of the town. Here is a cobbler's shop, its exterior decorated by half a dozen chamois skins, with horns and hoofs intact. Next to 'it is a gunsmith's, with implements of the chase and ice axes of a primitive typo. Metalware shops abound, attracting notice by thier array of pol ished copper. windows are filled with the glitter inflow bells and metalstudded collars of varying shapes. Milk churns, pans and strainers, and the huge copper cauldrons used in cheese-making, gleam like mirrors in the dark little interiors, frequently encroaching on to the pavement, where

the mistress sits at the receipt of custom. The main street presents a constant succession of interests, ancient and modern. A "motor dashes along the narrow causeway, bounding over the uneven cobbles, its six cylinders snorting defiance to all old-time institutions. A team of stolid oxen, drawing a ponderous wagon of a type unchanged for nearly two thousand years, bars the way. There is not room for the two. By sheer inertia the product of the first century triumphs over that of the twentieth, which coughs and splutters with impatience as it finds itself reduced to following its rival at an uneasy two miles per hour. At evening time one appreciates most fully the romance of the place. The mellow tones of the vesper bells from the cathedral are heard softly swelling and falling over the town; unconsciously almost, one is drawn in their direction. On turning the corner of a side street, the tdwers of the cathedral suddenly come Into view, with the mighty Grand Combin soaring into the blue firmament 14,000 feet above. In the last rays of the sun, which have long since left the valley, the snows of the mountain flash and redden as if no longer cold, but glowing with Internal fires, and as they turn from pink to vivid crimson they appear to float above the earth, and the mere thought of climbing them seems an empty dream. The mule paths that wind over the nearer hills lead past numerous wayside shrines, each containing

its waxwork figure of saint or Madonna, illumined by a glimmering light, and before which', at this hour* a kneeling peasant may often be seen. The spirit of devotion is always strong among a mountain people, a scarcely surprising circumstance in localities where even the greatest of human constructions are dwarfed into insignificance by the grandeur of the Alpine masses. Within the cathedral, candles here and there faintly reveal the curious mosaics of the tenth«eentury and the rich carving of the early Renaissance stalls, in which the forms of flowers and fruits are so ingeniously wrought that they seem like the living reality. Near at hand is a remnant of the first Christian church of the valley, a small altar on whose worn steps, as is testified by an inscription, have prayed 40 generations of Aostans. Scattered*” through the building are peasants in devotional attitudes, perfectly oblivious to passers-by, with eyes fixed on the distant lights of the great altar, and with lips moving with oft-repeated prayers. The shrine of Notre Dame de Grace within one of the side chapels is specially favored by the natives There would seem to be something in the adoration of the Virgin particularly adapted to the southern temperament. Throughout Italy, if one may judge by the number of statues and paintings and dedications, she is given precedence over all other personages. Laborers returning from their daily occupation, valley dweHers from the market place and townfolk throughout the day, kneel before the altar on the wooden Pre Dieu, mutter a few aves and paters and then proceed on their course. Quite apart from their religious suggestions, ancient structures and symbols have an influence that is felt by the most materialistic temperament. They would almost appear to retain something of the spirit of the devotees with whom they have been associated through the slow revolving centuries. They teach lessons and impart ideas not to be found in books of history, and will doubtless continue to, do so long after the usages that gave them their first significance have passed away.