Have you ever heard of Henry Cuyler Bunner? I hadn’t either until I read his story, “Our Aromatic Uncle,” copyrighted in 1896, the year of his death. Perhaps his greatest claim to fame is that he was, for a time, editor of “Puck.” I haven’t read that publication, though at least I have heard of it.
The short story is in a volume called “Short Stories for English Courses,” edited by Rosa M.R. Mikels. Her Preface begins:
“Why must we confine the reading of our children to the older literary classics? This is a question asked by an ever-increasing number of thoughtful teachers. They have no wish to displace or discredit the classics. On the contrary, they love and revere them. But they do wish to give their pupils something additional, something that pulses with present life, that is characteristic of today. The children, too, wonder that, with the great literary outpouring going on about them, they must always fill their cups from the cisterns of the past.”
Reading these words, I was hooked. They might have been written by any of the fine teachers of English with whom I have worked in my teaching career. What made Rosa Mikels’ words stand out is that they introduced a volume published in 1915 and re-issued in 1920. Obviously, it was intended as a textbook, and somehow I have come to think that the Los Angeles City School District might have been one to adopt it.
I bought the book for two dollars at an antique store in Los Alamos—California, not New Mexico. Its stories kept me affixed for a long enough time to allow Judy a thorough scouring of the shop. Thus continued a long-standing feature of our years of happiness together; as long as I have a book, she has the time she wants to browse.
The story is simple. A bakery boy of small stature idolizes the son of a judge in Boston, early 19th century. The bulk of the story is the narrator’s account of how the grand-daughter of the judge, now the story-teller’s wife, received an ever-increasing number of gifts of an increasing value from China, where the judge’s son has established a prosperous business.
After many years, this “aromatic” uncle (so dubbed because of the fragrances of many of the gifts), comes to visit. The three form an affectionate bond, amplified by the evident joy the couple’s baby finds in the uncle’s arms.
One day, the uncle’s sister, an unpleasant woman, comes to visit. When she first sees him, she cries out “That ain’t him.” She produces a picture of her brother taken years ago showing him with one arm. Beside the brother in the picture is his business partner, the man now visiting from China and called “our aromatic Uncle.”
Auntie storms away, never to be seen again. This is viewed as a blessing by the couple. They, in turn, embrace their visitor warmly, continuing to regard him as their uncle.
The man explains himself. He is, in fact, the bakery boy of old who ran off to sea to be “body-guard, servant, and friend to the splendid, showy, selfish youth whom he worshipped, whose heartlessness he cloaked for many a long year, who lived upon his bounty, and who died in his arms, nursed with a tenderness surpassing that of a brother.”
The judge’s son had made no attempt to maintain contact with his family so the bakery boy, now business partner, began pretending he was the uncle. He kept up the ruse throughout the lives of all the judge’s relatives; only the narrator’s wife and the haughty aunt remain. The hero-worshipper had become the hero, wrote editor Mikels.
The unmasking unnerved the uncle, and one day he disappeared. Some time later, he sent a note telling of another shipment of gifts. He concluded by saying that the couple would probably never hear from him again, except when they received the proceeds from his will. Once, in the company of the couple, he had complained that the only thing in life he could do well was to make money. So we assume…
I felt warm inside when I finished the story. It was as unexpected a treasure to me as were the proceeds of the will to the couple.
People of a Certain Age, how many times have treasures come to you unexpectedly? I wonder if, in order to feel like a treasure, whatever it is, it needs to be unexpected?
The treasure came to me by chance. I was in a new place rummaging through old things, looking for an interesting book with no specific desire regarding the kind of book. The volume is nondescript, like most texts. There was no particular reason why my hand should have rested on it as I scanned the jumble of books in the shop.
I have been blessed with many unexpected treasures in my life. Many involve people. Others have been places, Still others are books or musical compositions or plays.
What treasures come to mind for you?
Daniel E. White
September 6, 2016