The Devotion of Enriquez Page #4

"The Devotion of Enriquez" is a short story by Bret Harte, set in the rugged landscapes of California's Gold Rush era. The narrative centers on the character Enriquez, a loyal and devoted Mexican servant who navigates themes of love, sacrifice, and cultural tensions. Through his unwavering dedication to a wealthy American family, the story explores the complexities of loyalty across social and racial divides, ultimately revealing profound insights into human relationships and the moral dilemmas faced by individuals in a rapidly changing society. Harte's vivid storytelling and rich characterizations offer a poignant reflection on honor and devotion in an era marked by both opportunity and conflict.

• Short story

								

condescendingly: "You are, I think, more or less familiar with the
characteristics and customs of the Spanish as exhibited by the settlers
here." A thrill of apprehension went through me. Had he heard of
Enriquez' proceedings? Had Miss Mannersley cruelly betrayed him to her
uncle? "I have not given that attention myself to their language and
social peculiarities," he continued, with a large wave of the hand,
"being much occupied with a study of their religious beliefs and
superstitions"--it struck me that this was apt to be a common fault of
people of the Mannersley type--"but I have refrained from a personal
discussion of them; on the contrary, I have held somewhat broad views
on the subject of their remarkable missionary work, and have suggested
a scheme of co-operation with them, quite independent of doctrinal
teaching, to my brethren of other Protestant Christian sects. These
views I first incorporated in a sermon last Sunday week, which I am told
has created considerable attention." He stopped and coughed slightly. "I
have not yet heard from any of the Roman clergy, but I am led to believe
that my remarks were not ungrateful to Catholics generally."

I was relieved, although still in some wonder why he should address me
on this topic. I had a vague remembrance of having heard that he had
said something on Sunday which had offended some Puritans of his
flock, but nothing more. He continued: "I have just said that I was
unacquainted with the characteristics of the Spanish-American race. I
presume, however, they have the impulsiveness of their Latin origin.
They gesticulate--eh? They express their gratitude, their joy, their
affection, their emotions generally, by spasmodic movements? They
naturally dance--sing--eh?" A horrible suspicion crossed my mind;
I could only stare helplessly at him. "I see," he said graciously;
"perhaps it is a somewhat general question. I will explain myself.
A rather singular occurrence happened to me the other night. I had
returned from visiting a parishioner, and was alone in my study
reviewing my sermon for the next day. It must have been quite late
before I concluded, for I distinctly remember my niece had returned
with her servant fully an hour before. Presently I heard the sounds of
a musical instrument in the road, with the accents of someone singing or
rehearsing some metrical composition in words that, although couched
in a language foreign to me, in expression and modulation gave me the
impression of being distinctly adulatory. For some little time, in
the greater preoccupation of my task, I paid little attention to the
performance; but its persistency at length drew me in no mere idle
curiosity to the window. From thence, standing in my dressing-gown,
and believing myself unperceived, I noticed under the large oak in the
roadside the figure of a young man who, by the imperfect light, appeared
to be of Spanish extraction. But I evidently miscalculated my own
invisibility; for he moved rapidly forward as I came to the window, and
in a series of the most extraordinary pantomimic gestures saluted me.
Beyond my experience of a few Greek plays in earlier days, I confess I
am not an adept in the understanding of gesticulation; but it struck me
that the various phases of gratitude, fervor, reverence, and exaltation
were successively portrayed. He placed his hands upon his head,
his heart, and even clasped them together in this manner." To my
consternation the reverend gentleman here imitated Enriquez' most
extravagant pantomime. "I am willing to confess," he continued, "that
I was singularly moved by them, as well as by the highly creditable and
Christian interest that evidently produced them. At last I opened the
window. Leaning out, I told him that I regretted that the lateness of
the hour prevented any further response from me than a grateful though
hurried acknowledgment of his praiseworthy emotion, but that I should be
glad to see him for a few moments in the vestry before service the next
day, or at early candlelight, before the meeting of the Bible class. I
told him that as my sole purpose had been the creation of an evangelical
brotherhood and the exclusion of merely doctrinal views, nothing could
be more gratifying to me than his spontaneous and unsolicited testimony
to my motives. He appeared for an instant to be deeply affected, and,
indeed, quite overcome with emotion, and then gracefully retired, with
some agility and a slight saltatory movement."

He paused. A sudden and overwhelming idea took possession of me, and
I looked impulsively into his face. Was it possible that for once
Enriquez' ironical extravagance had been understood, met, and vanquished
by a master hand? But the Rev. Mr. Mannersley's self-satisfied face
betrayed no ambiguity or lurking humor. He was evidently in earnest; he
had complacently accepted for himself the abandoned Enriquez' serenade
to his niece. I felt a hysterical desire to laugh, but it was checked by
my companion's next words.

"I informed my niece of the occurrence in the morning at breakfast. She
had not heard anything of the strange performance, but she agreed with
me as to its undoubted origin in a grateful recognition of my liberal
efforts toward his coreligionists. It was she, in fact, who suggested
that your knowledge of these people might corroborate my impressions."

I was dumfounded. Had Miss Mannersley, who must have recognized
Enriquez' hand in this, concealed the fact in a desire to shield him?
But this was so inconsistent with her utter indifference to him, except
as a grotesque study, that she would have been more likely to tell
her uncle all about his previous performance. Nor could it be that she
wished to conceal her visit to the fandango. She was far too independent
for that, and it was even possible that the reverend gentleman, in his
desire to know more of Enriquez' compatriots, would not have objected.
In my confusion I meekly added my conviction to hers, congratulated him
upon his evident success, and slipped away. But I was burning with
a desire to see Enriquez and know all. He was imaginative but not
untruthful. Unfortunately, I learned that he was just then following one
of his erratic impulses, and had gone to a rodeo at his cousin's, in
the foothills, where he was alternately exercising his horsemanship in
catching and breaking wild cattle and delighting his relatives with his
incomparable grasp of the American language and customs, and of the airs
of a young man of fashion. Then my thoughts recurred to Miss Mannersley.
Had she really been oblivious that night to Enriquez' serenade? I
resolved to find out, if I could, without betraying Enriquez. Indeed, it
was possible, after all, that it might not have been he.

Chance favored me. The next evening I was at a party where
Miss Mannersley, by reason of her position and quality, was a
distinguished--I had almost written a popular--guest. But, as I
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