The Passing of Enriquez Page #4

"The Passing of Enriquez" by Bret Harte is a poignant short story that explores themes of identity, nostalgia, and cultural transition in the American West. Set in a mining town during the gold rush era, the narrative revolves around the character of Enriquez, a once-prominent figure who embodies the spirit and struggles of the Hispanic community. As his life unfolds, the story reflects on the impact of societal changes, personal loss, and the bittersweet nature of progress. Harte's lyrical prose captures the complexities of human emotion and the inevitable passage of time, making it a compelling exploration of the American experience.

• Short story

								

to convey my adieus to her, and, in spite of his embraces and
protestations, I managed to get out of the room. But I had scarcely
reached the front door when I heard Enriquez's voice and his bounding
step on the stairs. In another moment his arm was round my neck.

"You must return on the instant! Mother of God! I haf forget, SHE haf
forget, WE all haf forget! But you have not seen him!"

"Seen whom?"

"El nino, the baby! You comprehend, pig! The criaturica, the leetle
child of ourselfs!"

"The baby?" I said confusedly. "IS there--is there a BABY?"

"You hear him?" said Enriquez, sending an appealing voice upward. "You
hear him, Urania? You comprehend. This beast of a leetle brother demands
if there ees one!"

"I beg your pardon," I said, hurriedly reascending the stairs. On the
landing I met Mrs. Saltillo, but as calm, composed, and precise as
her husband was extravagant and vehement. "It was an oversight of
Enriquez's," she said quietly, reentering the room with us; "and was all
the more strange, as the child was in the room with you all the time."

She pointed to the corner of the wall, where hung what I had believed
to be an old Indian relic. To my consternation, it WAS a bark
"papoose-case," occupied by a LIVING child, swathed and bandaged after
the approved Indian fashion. It was asleep, I believe, but it opened a
pair of bright huckleberry eyes, set in the smallest of features, that
were like those of a carved ivory idol, and uttered a "coo" at the sound
of its mother's voice. She stood on one side with unruffled composure,
while Enriquez threw himself into an attitude before it, with clasped
hands, as if it had been an image of the Holy Child. For myself, I was
too astounded to speak; luckily, my confusion was attributed to the
inexperience of a bachelor.

"I have adopted," said Mrs. Saltillo, with the faintest touch of
maternal pride in her manner, "what I am convinced is the only natural
and hygienic mode of treating the human child. It may be said to be
a reversion to the aborigine, but I have yet to learn that it is not
superior to our civilized custom. By these bandages the limbs of the
infant are kept in proper position until they are strong enough to
support the body, and such a thing as malformation is unknown. It is
protected by its cradle, which takes the place of its incubating-shell,
from external injury, the injudicious coddling of nurses, the so-called
'dancings' and pernicious rockings. The supine position, as in the
adult, is imposed only at night. By the aid of this strap it may be
carried on long journeys, either by myself or by Enriquez, who thus
shares with me, as he fully recognizes, its equal responsibility and
burden."

"It--certainly does not--cry," I stammered.

"Crying," said Mrs. Saltillo, with a curve of her pretty red lip, "is
the protest of the child against insanitary and artificial treatment.
In its upright, unostentatious cradle it is protected against that
injudicious fondling and dangerous promiscuous osculation to which, as
an infant in human arms, it is so often subjected. Above all, it is kept
from that shameless and mortifying publicity so unjust to the weak and
unformed animal. The child repays this consideration by a gratifying
silence. It cannot be expected to understand our thoughts, speech, or
actions; it cannot participate in our pleasures. Why should it be
forced into premature contact with them, merely to feed our vanity or
selfishness? Why should we assume our particular parental accident
as superior to the common lot? If we do not give our offspring that
prominence before our visitors so common to the young wife and husband,
it is for that reason solely; and this may account for what seemed the
forgetfulness of Enriquez in speaking of it or pointing it out to
you. And I think his action in calling you back to see it was somewhat
precipitate. As one does not usually introduce an unknown and inferior
stranger without some previous introduction, he might have asked you if
you wished to see the baby before he recalled you."

I looked from Urania's unfathomable eyes to Enriquez's impenetrable
countenance. I might have been equal to either of them alone, but
together they were invincible. I looked hopelessly at the baby. With
its sharp little eyes and composed face, it certainly was a marvelous
miniature of Enriquez. I said so.

"It would be singular if it was not," said Mrs. Saltillo dryly; "and as
I believe it is by no means an uncommon fact in human nature, it seems
to me strange that people should insist upon it as a discovery. It is
an inheritance, however, that in due time progress and science will no
doubt interrupt, to the advancement of the human race. I need not
say that both Enriquez and myself look forward to it with confident
tranquillity."

There was clearly nothing for me to do now but to shake hands again and
take my leave. Yet I was so much impressed with the unreality of the
whole scene that when I reached the front door I had a strong impulse
to return suddenly and fall in upon them in their relaxed and natural
attitudes. They could not keep up this pose between themselves; and I
half expected to see their laughing faces at the window, as I glanced up
before wending my perilous way to the street.

I found Mrs. Saltillo's manuscript well written and, in the narrative
parts, even graphic and sparkling. I suppressed some general remarks
on the universe, and some correlative theories of existence, as
not appertaining particularly to the Aztecs, and as not meeting any
unquenchable thirst for information on the part of the readers of the
"Daily Excelsior." I even promoted my fair contributor to the position
of having been commissioned, at great expense, to make the Mexican
journey especially for the "Excelsior." This, with Mrs. Saltillo's
somewhat precise preraphaelite drawings and water-colors, vilely
reproduced by woodcuts, gave quite a sensational air to her production,
which, divided into parts, for two or three days filled a whole page
of the paper. I am not aware of any particular service that it did to
ethnology; but, as I pointed out in the editorial column, it showed that
the people of California were not given over by material greed to the
exclusion of intellectual research; and as it was attacked instantly
in long communications from one or two scientific men, it thus produced
more copy.

Briefly, it was a boom for the author and the "Daily Excelsior." I
should add, however, that a rival newspaper intimated that it was also a
boom for Mrs. Saitillo's HUSBAND, and called attention to the fact that
a deserted Mexican mine, known as "El Bolero," was described graphically
in the Aztec article among the news, and again appeared in the
advertising columns of the same paper. I turned somewhat indignantly
to the file of the "Excelsior," and, singularly enough, found in the

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