_PUCK, August 13th, 1890._
President Garfield had the opportunity of choosing for his Secretary
of State the man who, in the national convention, had worked hard and
almost successfully to secure the nomination of another candidate.
But Mr. Garfield declined Mr. Conkling’s assistance, and lived to see
his course receive the emphatic approval of his party. He chose for
his “next friend” Mr. James G. Blaine, with whom he was entirely in
accord, although Mr. Blaine had for many years been a candidate for
the nomination. Four years later Mr. Blaine got the nomination and
was defeated at the polls. Four years after that, again Mr. Blaine
yielded the nomination to Mr. Harrison; and, when Mr. Harrison was
elected, became Secretary of State. Mr. Blaine made no pretence of
personal regard for Mr. Harrison or of devotion to his interests;
in fact, during the last two years of Mr. Harrison’s term of office
the probability of Mr. Blaine’s opposition in the next national
convention was a constant menace to Mr. Harrison, who earnestly desired
a re-nomination. Mr. Blaine’s health, however, was far from good;
and he delayed putting himself forward as a candidate until it was
entirely too late to obtain the support which he might normally have
counted upon. The cartoon shows Mr. Blaine in the gloomy and depressing
character of Poe’s “Raven,” croaking unfriendly discouragement to Mr.
Harrison’s fond dreams of future success. In a rough parody of the
famous poem, PUCK, on August 13th, 1890, represented President Harrison
as saying of the Blaine raven “perched above his chamber door:”
“Then this ebony bird beguiling
My sad fancy into smiling,
By its manner strange suggesting
Little Rock and Arkan_sor_,
‘Though thy plumes are not Elysian,’
Said I, ‘tell me with precision,
Art a jimblaine or a vision?
Art thou here for peace or war?
Tell me, is it peace between us?
Shall an end be made of war?’
Quoth the Raven, ‘Nevermore!’
“Much I marveled this confounded
Fowl the question thus propounded
With veracity to answer--
Which was not his wont of yore.
‘But,’ I thought, ‘he is but thinking
Of his own hopes, shipwrecked, sinking,
As he sits there, blankly blinking,
Dreaming still of ’84,
Dreaming of his matchless tumble,
In the year of ’84--’
Quoth the Raven, ‘Nevermore!’
“‘Prophet!’ said I, ‘thing of evil!
Prophet, if you are a _dee_vil--
Whether Reed gets left, or whether
Poor McKinley goes ashore--
Tell me, am I Fate’s selection
For a glorious re-election--
Shall I join a freak collection--
Shall I serve my first term o’er--
_Must_ I go to Injinap’lis?
Can’t I tide two termlets o’er?’
Quoth the Raven, ‘Nevermore!’”
[Illustration]