An American poet and story-writer; born in Oswego, N. Y., Aug. 3, 1855; died in Nutley, N. J., May 11, 1896. He became a journalist in 1873, and was editor of Puck from shortly after its start till his death. Author of “A Woman of Honor” (New York, 1883); “Airs from Arcady and Elsewhere” (1884); “The Midge” (1886); “The Story of a New York House” (1887); “Zadoc Pine and Other Stories” (1891); “Short Sixes” (1891); “The Runaway Browns” (1892); “Jersey Street and Jersey Lane” (1896); and “In Partnership,” with Brander Matthews (1883). Also a play, “The Tower of Babel” (1883); and uncollected magazine articles.

Personal

  We had lived in the same house for a while; we had collaborated more than once; we had talked over our plans together; we had criticised each other’s writings; we had revised each other’s proof-sheets; and there was between us never any misunderstanding or doubt, nor any word of disagreement. I never went to Bunner for counsel or for aid that I did not get it, freely and sympathetically given, and always exactly what I needed. Sympathy was indeed the keynote of Bunner’s character, and cheery helpfulness was a chief of his characteristics. To me the companionship was of inestimable benefit; and it is bitter to face a future when I can no more hope for his hearty greeting, for the welcoming glance of his eager eye, for the solid grip of his hand and for the unfailing stimulus and solace of his conversation.

  He read me in advance all the poems, afterward collected together as the “Airs from Arcady.” We talked for hours over “Love in Old Cloathes,” the best, perhaps, of his tales, and a little bit of work which cost him infinite care, and thought, and labour…. He was very quick of insight, and remarkably ready of utterances and expression, even in verse…. He was very strong in his likes and in his dislikes—often without good reason. And I like to think now that, when we came to know each other, he always liked me, whatever his reason may have been. A more disinterestedly loyal man to his friends I never met, nor a man more devotedly attached to his own family. He was always sympathetic, always ready to help, always full of encouragement, never sparing of his words of praise for the work of others. His laugh was hearty and contagious, and how quick was his appreciation of everything that was good all the world who reads can tell. He was an excellent listener, and he was an admirable talker upon all sorts of subjects, grave and gay. He had an unusual knowledge of books and of their contents, particularly of the works of the poets, ancient and modern. He quoted readily, correctly, appropriately, and at length; and if one wanted to remember a line or a sonnet of any of the half-forgotten men of the period of the very beginning of English verse, Bunner could always say where it was, whose it was.

General

  It has some real stuff in it [“Airs from Arcady”] and woven, too, with no creak of machinery.

  It has always seemed to me that Bunner was one of the great parodists of the nineteenth century. Not Smith’s “Rejected Addresses,” not Thackeray’s “Prize Novelists,” not Mr. Bret Harte’s “Condensed Novels,” not Bayard Taylor’s “Diversions of the Echo Club,” shows a sharper understanding of the essentials of another author’s art or a swifter faculty for reproducing them, than Bunner revealed in these V. Hugo Dusenberry papers, or in his “Home, Sweet Home, with Variations” (now included in his “Airs from Arcady”). There are two kinds of parody, as we all know. One is a mere imitation of the external form, and is commonly inexpensive and tiresome. The other is rarer and calls for an evocation of the internal spirit; and it was in the accomplishment of this that Bunner excelled…. To Bunner verse was perhaps the most natural form of expression; and it is as a poet that he is most likely to linger in men’s memories.

  The charm that the late Henry Cuyler Bunner exercised as a writer of fiction was due not only to the fact that he was a natural story-teller, and that, having this talent, he cultivated it, but also to the fact that he was of an intensely sensitive and sympathetic nature, and had, besides, the indispensable sense of humor…. The necessities of his place made him a political writer, but his enthusiasm, his patriotism, his hatred of shams, together with his literary training, made him a political writer of high rank. The paper naturally responded to the strong convictions and individuality of its editor, and its development from a mere free-lance in journalism into a powerful organ with a settled, definite policy, was a necessary consequence. To make the fine, violin-like tones of his “comments” heard through all the trumpet-blast of Keppler’s cartoons, was no easy task, yet Bunner accomplished it. It was also necessary for him to write so as to attract and to hold the attention of the man who bought a funny paper because he wanted to laugh…. He determined to give to the English reading world some of the best of Maupassant’s stories that were translatable and had not already been translated; and the result was “Made in France.” These were not translations, however, but transformations. While the French originals were recognizable by those who knew Maupassant, the stories were still Bunner, and this in spite of the fact that Bunner was undoubtedly the best parodist in the English language.

  Mr. Bunner’s legacy to American poetry is very small in bulk, but most excellent in quality. He had a rare gift of humour, a quick ear for rhyme and rhythm, a fortunate choice of epithet and figure, and, best of all, he knew his own capabilities and did not attempt to go beyond them. It is easy to trace the influence of three other poets in his work—Herrick, Aldrich and Dobson; but it is to be said that, wherever the influence of any one of them is traceable, the poem is not unworthy of its master and always it must be owned that