tion in the world. But he was a man of mettle; the man never lived that he was afraid to meet. He was a fight ing man, a man of action, a man of war, a man who never turned his back on friend or foe. From his boyhood he had to fight his way in the world; he fought his way through the wilderness to reach his future home in Tennessee; there he fought with wild beasts and Indians. As prosecuting solicitor, he had to fight his way sometimes over the prostrate forms of crim inals and outlaws in order to serve a writ, to defend a client or to eject a trespasser. Andrew Jackson was, in some respects, the ideal American from the backwoods; a hardswearing, free-fighting, pistol-shooting, horse-racing, honest, clean-handed, frank, fearless, truthful specimen of the genus homo. He was the first self-made man among the Presidents of the United States, followed in the Presidency by Lincoln, Johnson, Grant and other self-made men, succeeding the old line of Presidents of patrician pretensions. Unlike Falstaff, Jackson was not witty him self, but, like the renowned Sir John, he was the cause of wit and humor in other men. As Thomas Wen'tworth Higginson has pointed out, it was under him that a serious people first found out that it knew how to laugh. The once famous "Jack Downing," who has been pronounced Mark Twain, Hosea Bigelow and Artemus Ward in one, was the first American humorist. The stern and inflex ible Jackson enjoyed in his grim way the humor of "Jack Downing," whose Letters he read while he smoked his pipe. In writing of Andrew Jackson it is impos sible to avoid mentioning his greatest con temporary and bitterest rival, the gallant, chivalrous, passionate and patriotic Henry Clav. P.oth born in humble life, both law yers, both left their native State to seek their fortune in the then far West; both succeeded in making their mark in their profession, and both abandoned the law before they had reached the highest honors of the most en
grossing of pursuits, the one to win distinc tion in politics, the other as a soldier, both to meet in the great field of politics, as the leaders of their party, both possessed of a personal magnetism which carried their fol lowers wherever they led; both were ambi tious, but one only—and he was not more worthy than the other—reached the height of political honor. Clay was the greater statesman, Jackson the greater politician. He swayed men as he wished. He was as mag nanimous as he was magnetic, and, although he was a good hater, his warm and generous heart was easily moved to forgive and forget and let bygones be bygones. A memorable instance was the case of Thomas H. Benton. After one of the deadliest feuds in the annals of Tennessee, Jackson and Benton were reconciled, and became, not only political, but warm personal friends. Benton became Jackson's confidential adviser, and was offered the highest marks of his favor. Henry Clay was a natural born orator; he studied in no schools; he neither knew nor cared anything about Cicero's scholastic Treatise on Oratory; he practised none of the tricks of the rhetoricians; he was the pupil of no debating class. His youth and early manhood were passed in Virginia, where he had received inspiration from the glorious men of the Revolution. It was the golden age of American patriotism. The present age of commercialism, with its deadly paralyzing power of money, was unknown and un dreamed of. In that high school of patriot ism, Henry Clay had drunk deeply, and he became the exponent of the American sys tem of politics. Admitted to the bar of Vir ginia, he sought a newer field of ambition in Kentucky, to which young State he carried a brave heart, a chivalrous soul, a high honor, a tall, slender, graceful figure. His magnificent genius broke forth with incom parable splendor upon Kentucky, upon the United States, upon the world. It was Henry Clay more than any other man who made the
