River Falls journal. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1872-2019, 1912-10-17
The COrrectOr of DeStinieS
Being Tales of Randolph Mason as Related by
His Private Secretary. Courtland Parks
The Virgin of the Mountain
Bv Melville DaviSSOn Post
Convright by Edward ]. Clode

avenue. The observer may not nave
known this remarkable man nor any
thing of his history, but he would IN
stantly have noticed his fine. sineWy
figure. and his features, clean-cur and
regular like those Of an Italian
bronze.
II ia well to remember that every
country maintains a kingdom lying
within the boundaries Of this repub-
lie. / do not mean the fiction Of SOW
ereignty attaching to the legations at
Washington, but phantom state
rather, keeping the customs, the tradi-
tions, even the very laws, of the moth
er country.
It was only in this kingdom Of Italy
that Signore Mazaccra was a mar
quis. Uptown in New York, he was
merely a star of heavy opera, one
Ricardo Robini, with voice like that
OF many sirens, and yet the man,
plying this emasculated trade, was
In fact a ruthless, calculating, steel
nerved sentinel, presenting himself,
thus singing, in the worlds most
public places, and reporting each
night to that phantom kingdom OF
Italy, set down like a well-htting
shadow over the streets and buildings
of New York.
The Marquis MaZaccra lived openly
lodged In a suite at the Dresden. And
yet for weeks the district attorney of
New York had known that this man
ought to be in the electric chair; his
assistants knew it, the police officers of
the city knew it, On memorandum in
a pigeonhole of the district attorney S
desk he was written down as guilty
Of murder in the first degree-willful,
premeditated murder. The district at
torney neglected, nay, it should be
written, refused, to apprehend him on
a criminal warrant
Let us not too hastily denounce this
district attorney of New York. He was
an incorruptible public servant, able,
persistent, fearless. Why, then, this i'm
munity to the Marquis Mazaccra, as
OF one heaven born, amenable to no
law? Why was he not sent promptly
to the electric chair, and after to dim
mer audiences? To know this it is
necessary to know first a chapter of
Italian history.
If, when one is dropping his copper
tribute into the dish of the collector
at Sorrento, he will look to his left
hand along the Bay of Naples. he will
observe a villa built of ancient Sicil-
ian marble clinging like a bit of flung
up sea foam to a little promoptory of
the shore, having for background a
lemon grove, the thick branches sup
ported by a lath trellis, like that COM
monty built for vines.
Wher the singing marquis came
into his inheritance there remained
only this villa, the half-acre of lemon
grove and the steps to the sea, out of
what was once the finest estate in
Salerno. Even the treasures Of the
villa had, for the most part, gone else
where in exchange for Ira, that the
dissolute father of the marquis might
maintain to the last day his midnight
court of revels for the ballet of the
Neapolitan opera, coming up the stone
stairway, laughing, shouting, singing
bits Of dissolute songs, as though
escaped by. some enchantment from
the halls of Morgana the Fay, under
the sea.
One night, crowned with a wreath
of wilted roses, brought by the first
arrivals from their dancing floor, the
old marquis, running forward to well
T VIII 70
devil of Naples-stumbled and was
himself welcomed by the master of all
devils.
The young marquis, arriving swiftly
from a military school at Milan,
found himself to have inherited a
corpse, and little else. Every item of
his inheritance had gone down the
stone stairway, except this patch of
garden, this house, this dead body of
the marquis and an ancient painting
Of the Virgin hanging in its heavy
frame in the hall. This painting the
old marquis had not dared to sell, hav-
ing a care for the welfare of his body
into the bargain. 1t was painted from
some round-faced Tuscan model of
middle age and was wholly without
beauty except it's coloring, which was
wonderfully fresh and bright. Never
theless, 1t was the most adored Virgin
in the south of Europe, with a miracle
to its credit beyond that of any Vir-
gin of the cathedrals-not a mere
Strengthening of legs or a healing Of
afflicted infants, but the saving of the
whole village of Tore del Greco, its
meadows, it's crops, its villas, it's
churches, its gardens, as we'll, also, as
its cripples and it's babies
The manner of it was that on a
certain good Tuesday, with scarce a
rumble of warning, Vesuvius began to
pour forth ashes, sulphurous fumes
and lava. The alarmed but pious
people of Tore del Greco began at
once to carry in procession every holy
relic to be found in any of the
churches, but without effect. The sui
phurous cloud remained. the ashes
continued to fall, the black, viscous
streams Of lava drew always little
nearer, scarifying the meadows like
hell vomit When the list Of these
holy objects had been exhausted. a
certain padre Of Sorrento remembered
the Virgin of the Marquis Mazaccra,
and went instantly in a boat to Dor
row 1t. 1t was carried through the
streets of Tore del Greco behind
lighted candles. That night the erup-
ton of Vesuvius ceased, and the mar
quis's Virgin was on the instant IA
nous. She was called now the Virgin
of the Mountain.