tionate attachment. It was not a mere political, it was a sentimental devotion, — a devotion abandoning even that criticism which is the duty of friendship, and forgetting or excusing all his weaknesses and faults, intellectual, and moral, — more than was good for him.
Behind him he had also the powerful support of the industrial interests of the country, which saw in him their champion, while the perfect integrity of his character forbade the suspicion that this championship was serving his private gain.
Such were the leaders of the two parties as they then stood before the country, — individualities so pronounced and conspicuous, commanders so faithfully sustained by their followers, that, while they were facing each other, the contests of parties appeared almost like a protracted political duel between two men. It was a struggle of singular dramatic interest.
There was no fiercer hater than Andrew Jackson, and no man whom he hated so fiercely as he did Henry Clay. That hatred was the passion of the last twenty years of his life. He sincerely deemed Clay capable of any villainy, and no sooner had he the executive power in his hands than he used it to open hostilities. His cabinet appointments were determined upon several days before his inauguration as President. Five of the places were filled with men who had made their mark as enemies of Clay. Among these were two Senators, who in 1825 had voted against the nomination of
