he travelled, always ready to make speeches at public meetings, which were undoubtedly eloquent and instructive, but not masterpieces like those of Webster at Plymouth and Bunker Hill.  They were not rich in fundamental principles of government and political science, and far from being elaborate, but were earnest, patriotic, and impassioned.  Clay was fearless, ingenuous, and chivalric, and won the hearts of the people, which Webster failed to do.  Both were great debaters, the one appealing to the understanding, and the other to popular sentiments.  Webster was cold, massive, logical, although occasionally illuminating his argument with a grand glow of eloquence,—­the admiration of lawyers and clergymen.  Clay was the delight of the common people,—­impulsive, electrical, brilliant, calling out the sympathies of his hearers, and captivating them by his obvious sincerity and frankness,—­not so much convincing them as moving them and stimulating them to action.  Webster rarely lost his temper, but he could be terribly sarcastic, harsh, and even fierce.  Clay was passionate and irritable, but forgiving and generous, loath to lose a friend and eager for popularity; Webster seemed indifferent to applause, and even to ordinary friendship, proud, and self-sustained.  Clay was vain and susceptible to flattery.  No stranger could approach Webster, but Clay was as accessible as a primitive bishop.  New England was proud of Webster, but the West loved Clay.  Kentucky would follow her favorite to the last, whatever mistakes he might make, but Massachusetts deserted Webster when he failed to respond to her popular convictions.  Both men were disappointed in the prize they sought:  one because he was not loved by the people, colossal as they admitted him to be,—­a frowning Jupiter Tonans absorbed in his own majesty; the other because he had incurred the hatred of Jackson and other party chiefs who were envious of his popularity, and fearful of his ascendency.

The hatred which Clay and Jackson had for each other was inexorable.  It steeped them both in bitterness and uncompromising opposition.  They were rivals,—­the heads of their respective parties.  Clay regarded Jackson as an ignorant, despotic, unscrupulous military chieftain, who had been raised to power by the blind adoration of military success; while Jackson looked upon Clay as an intriguing politician, without honesty, industry, or consistency, gifted only in speech-making.  Their quarrels and mutual abuse formed no small part of the political history of the country during Jackson’s administration, and have received from historians more attention than they deserved.  Mr. Colton takes up about one half of his first volume of the “Life of Clay” in dismal documents which few care about, relating to what he calls the “Great Conspiracy,” that is, the intrigues of politicians to rob Clay of his rights,—­the miserable party warfare which raged so furiously and blindly from 1825 to 1836.  I need not here dwell on the contentions and slanders and hatreds which were so prominent at the time the two great national parties were formed, and which divided the country until the Civil War.