Talk:H. C. Bunner

Henry Cuyler Bunner
An extract from the "The Point of View," Scribner's magazine, vol. 20, 1896, p. 124

ENRY CUYLER BUNNER, the writer of stories and poems some of which are in almost every American reader's memory, and from its beginning one of the most welcome and valued contributors to this Magazine, died on May 11th at his home in Nutley, N. J.

It would be to do what he especially disliked, to speak of the "place" of his work in the literature which he loved. What he did seriously he did in the finest and truest spirit of a man of letters; he put into it his best for love of it, with the simplicity of motive which is almost the touch-stone of the true literary quality. He got pleasure from his work exactly in proportion as it approached the immutable if indefinable standards of such a man; and this even in his trifling. It would be impossible to think of anyone less misled by false standards of comparison, or whom the laurels of others moved less except to generous admiration. It is also impossible for anyone who knew him well to write of his personal side otherwise than with deep feeling. His unfailing cheerfulness, courage, loyalty to his friend- ships, and complete sincerity were traits, indeed, to be felt rather than analyzed; everything that he did was very simple and direct; and he belonged to the fortunate men whom their friends talk of but do not discuss. These qualities were felt far beyond his personal circle, and in one part of his work at least made a direct impression on the public. In Puck, the journal of which he was the editor for many years, they prompted some political writing of which the clarity, force, and healthy optimism were even more temperamental than purely intellectual.

Mr. Bunner contributed to the first numbers of this Magazine the little masterpiece called "The Story of a New York House;" and in the June number of a month ago was printed the last of a series of "Urban and Suburban Sketches," written in a vein in which he was always especially attractive. In the ten years between these two appeared many stories which every reader of the Magazine will recall: "Natural Selection," "Zadoc Pine," "A Second-hand Story," "As One Having Authority," "Our Aromatic Uncle," and more whose mere enumeration will make many realize for the first time how much enjoyment he has given them. Of his work in general, and especially of his work as a poet, something will be said later and more adequately; but this paragraph may serve to show what one body of readers has owed to him, and how greatly he will be missed.