Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1897-09-14
A GODDESS.

~ Sicdu was tlo Worship OIL SllaS IOr
the divine in art, for the outward shaping
of beautiful soul, that he raised an altar
to his goddess. He may not have offered
pagan sacrifices to her, being reasonable
man, but he built a temple to hold his
treasure, and the shrine was made lovely
by painters and gravers by nature, too,
for olematis and climbing roses leaned
through the arches of the sacred place.
When Silas had leisure from his duties
as rich man or from his studies as a
wise one, he spent hours in admiring his
rare treasure 1t may be wondered wheth-
er the goddess cared what he felt or
whether she missed the substantial gifts
| she had been accustomed to in former
| times.
So far as her feelings may be imagined
they must be narrated Thus it was easy
to see that she cared nothing for the vul-
gar details of life She was indeed far
above the common. Whether In her old
life, when she was worshiped by multi
tudes, she Toasted in secret upon the offer
ings laid before her, it was sure now that
she never thought of food and the prepara-
ton thereof or troubled herself about
garments.
These facts would show that she was
above most women, and Silas loved her
for it. Being no god himself, but man,
Silas was not always at her side or on a
PEDESTAL Yet in his absence he left the
temple generously open. The goddess,
though not of heroic proportions, was safe
on her throne, and Silas felt that the wide
door was companion to the windowless
arches. From it the goddess could look
out on the highroad and in turn those
faring along the way might stop for rest.
What wonder, then, that many came to
look at the lofty image? Some spoke OF
whether she were worthy of her place OF
not. Those were they who must cavil.
Some looked with curiosity and were I'M
knowing. There were few who cared to
come again. This proves that Silas was
an uncommon man.
Every one likes best his own treasure
and defends its value. So Silas felt through
his whole being the worth of his goddess,
for he owned her. and he was a good
man and placed no other gods before her.
In tragedy without appeal even riches
do not help. A statue cannot die, but that
is because it may be immortal. For the
second time in her long life the goddess
was taken from her shelter. The first
time her divinity was lost. This time it
was her body. Fate had brought her out
of a dim past, out of the old careless days
of cheerful gods. Now fate had crcum-
scribed her; still divine, to be just, but
slave-a royal slave. All, the goodness
of her owner, his wisdom, his constancy,
did not avail. The tragedy was without
appeal
For one day wanderer came by-a
worthless singer, who amused children
and made toys-and the goddess came
down from her resting place as at a COM
mand. 1t was not known for time with
whom she went away, though Felix, the
trifling wayfarer, was believed to be the
one and got much blame.
She must have learned to speak, for
when he looked at her with pleased eyes in
the temple that day while he ate his crust
she signifled to him that she was tired of
being perfect. From having the outward
form of a woman very likely she had
come to be woman, SO that it had grown
troublesome for her to try to be as calm,
as uncaring, as far above feeling, as she
had seemed.
When, therefore, the mountebank Felix
gazed upon her with u smile of delight;
noted her shape, better even than he could
carve in doll when he with carelessness
touched her body, having no straining for
reverence in his heart, then indeed the
goddess was stirred More than that, she
moved and held out her hands.
She did this timidly and childishly in
spite of her great age, for she had never
done it before-at least not since those
grandes passions in the great past. when
she had no soul and they were very differ.
ent besides being half forgotten.
She did not think Of her soul now,
imagine. AS for the tramp, he had the
soul of child. He was happy from day
to day, even from hour to hour. The
past-his little past-weighed naught with
him, and the future was unfelt.
1t may have been a fit union when they
went forth together, for neither cared
for the material success of life. She was
more contented in being toy than she had
ever been as great work of art or as
revered goddess, partly because she no
longer cared for those shadowy hordes, |
partly because the compelling touch of |
her maker was forgotten.
And this man painted her afresh to sit |
his taste. He gave her more feshy tones
and he trimmed her with ribbons. Once,
when he had so much gold he even gilded
her in fantastic fashion on the hair, on
the soft surfaces of her shoulders and
thighs, where she had been so family gilt
before. She loved the caressing and the
play.
Having forgotten she was goddess, she
did much as women do, and a sad state of
things came to pass, She let Felix nut
her into his shelter, which was a mere
hut Not at all like the marble and silver
temple was the hut. though this lover Of
the fields and bvpaths had N bright with