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One day in the House of Representatives, a bill was taken
up appropriating money for the benefit of a widow of a distinguished naval
officer. Several beautiful speeches had been made in its support. The Speaker
was just about to put the question to vote when Crockett arose:
"Mr.
Speaker-I have as much respect for the memory of the deceased, and as much
sympathy for the sufferings of living, if suffering there be, as any man in
this House, but we must not permit our respect for the dead or our sympathy for
a part of the living to lead us into an act of injustice to the balance of the
living. I will not go into an argument to prove that Congress has no power to
appropriate this money as an act of charity. Every Member upon this floor knows
it. We have the right, as individuals, to give away as much of our own money as
we please in charity; but as members of Congress we have no right so to
appropriate a dollar of the public money. Some eloquent appeals have been made
to us upon the ground that is a debt due the deceased. Mr. Speaker, the
deceased lived long after the close of the war; he was in office to the day of
his death, and I have never heard that the government was in arrears to
him."
"Every
man in this House knows it is not a debt. We cannot, without the grossest
corruption, appropriate this money as the payment of a debt. We have not the
semblance of authority to appropriate it as a charity. Mr. Speaker, I have said
we have the right to give as much money of our own as we please. I am the
poorest man on this floor. I cannot vote for this bill, but I will give one
week's pay to the object, and if every member of Congress will do the same, it
will amount to more that the bill asks."
He
took his seat. Nobody replied. The bill was put upon its passage, and, instead
of passing unanimously, as was generally supposed, and as, no doubt, it would,
but for that speech, it received but few votes, and, of course, was lost.
Later,
when asked by a friend why he had opposed the appropriation, Crockett gave this
explanation:.
"Several
years ago I was one evening standing on the steps of the Capitol with some
other members of Congress, when our attention was attracted by a great light
over in Georgetown. It was evidently a large fire. We jumped into a hack and
drove over as fast as we could. In spite of all that could be done, many houses
were burned and many families made homeless, and, besides, some of them had
lost all but the clothes they had on. The weather was very cold, and when I saw
so many women and children suffering, I felt that something ought to be done
for them. The next morning a bill was introduced appropriating $20,000 for
their relief. We put aside all other business and rushed it through as soon as
it could be done."
"The
next summer, when it began to be time to think about the election, I concluded
I would take a scout around among the boys of my district. I had no opposition
there, but as the election was some time off, I did no know what might turn up.
When riding one day in a part of my district in which I was more of a stranger
than any other, I saw a man in a field plowing and coming toward the road. I
gauged my gait so that we should meet as he came to the fence. As he came up, I
spoke to the man. He replied politely, but as I thought, rather coldly."
"I
began: 'Well, friend, I am one of those unfortunate beings called candidates,
and-'.
'Yes,
I know you; you are Colonel Crockett. I have seen you once before, and voted
for your the last time your were elected. I suppose you are out electioneering
now, but you had better not waste your time or mine. I shall not vote for you
again.'
"This
was a sockdolager.....I begged him to tell me what was the matter."
"Well,
Colonel, it is hardly worth while to waste time or words upon it. I do not see
how it can be mended, but you gave a vote last winter which shows that either
you have not capacity to understand the Constitution, or that you are wanting
in the honesty and firmness to be guided by it. In either case you are not the
man to represent me. But I beg your pardon for expressing it in that way. I did
not intend to avail myself of the privilege of the constituent to speak plainly
to a candidate for the purpose of insulting or wounding you. I intend by it
only to say that your understanding of the Constitution is very different from
mine; and I will say to you what, but for my rudeness, I should not have said,
that I believe you to be honest....But an understanding of the Constitution
different from mine I cannot overlook, because the Constitution, to be worth
anything, must be held sacred, and rigidly observed in all its provisions. The
man who wields power and misinterprets it is the more dangerous the more honest
he is."
"I
admit the truth of all you say, but there must be some mistake about it, for I
do not remember that I gave any vote last winter upon any constitutional
question."
"No,
Colonel, there's no mistake. Though I live here in the backwoods and seldom go
from home, I take the papers from Washington and read very carefully all the
proceedings of Congress. My papers say that last winter you voted for a bill to
appropriate $20,000 to some sufferers by a fire in Georgetown. Is that
true?"
"Well,
my friend; I may as well own up. You have got me there. But certainly nobody
will complain that a great and rich country like ours should give the
insignificant sum of $20,000 to relieve its suffering women and children,
particularly with a full and overflowing treasury, and I am sure, if you had
been there, you would have done just as I did."
"It
is not the amount, Colonel, that I complain of; it is the principle. In the
first place, the government ought to have in the Treasury no more than enough
for its legitimate purposes. But that has nothing to do with the question. The
power of collecting and disbursing money at pleasure is the most dangerous
power that can be entrusted to man, particularly under our system of collecting
revenue by a tariff, which reaches every man in the country, no matter how poor
he may be, and the poorer his is the more he pays in proportion to his means.
What is worse, it presses upon him without his knowledge where the weight
centers, for there is not a man in the United States who can ever guess how
much he pays to the government. So you see, that while you are contributing to
relieve one, you are drawing it from thousands who are even worse off than he.
If you had the right to give anything, the amount was simply a matter of
discretion with you, and you had as much right to give $20,000,000 as $20,000.
If you have the right to give to one, you have the right to give to all; and,
as the Constitution neither defines charity nor stipulates the amount, you are
at liberty to give to any and everything which you may believe, or profess to
believe is a charity, and to any amount you may think proper. You will very
easily perceive what a wide door this would open for fraud and corruption and
favoritism, on the one hand, and for robbing the people on the other. No,
Colonel, Congress has no right to give charity. Individual members may give as
much of their own money as they please, but they have no right to touch a
dollar of the public money for that purpose. If twice as many houses had been
burned in this county as in Georgetown, neither you nor any other member of
Congress would have thought of appropriating a dollar for our relief. There are
about two hundred and forty members of Congress. If they had shown their
sympathy for the sufferers by contributing each one week's pay, it would have
made over $13,000. There are plenty of wealthy men in and around Washington who
could have given $20,000 without depriving themselves of even a luxury of life.
The congressmen chose to keep their own money, which, if reports be true, some
of them spend not very creditably; and the people of Washington, no doubt,
applauded you for relieving them from the necessity of giving by giving what
was not yours to give. The people have delegated to Congress, by the
Constitution, the power to do certain things. To do these, it is authorized to
collect and pay moneys, and for nothing else. Everything beyond this is
usurpation, and a violation of the Constitution."
"So
you see, Colonel, you have violated the Constitution in what I consider a vital
point. It is a precedent fraught with danger to the country, for when Congress
once begins to stretch its power beyond the limits of the Constitution; there
is no limit to it, and no security for the people. I have no doubt you acted
honestly, but that does not make it any better, except as far as you personally
concerned, and you see that I cannot vote for you."
"I
tell you I felt streaked. I saw if I should have opposition, and this man
should go to talking, he would set others to talking, and in that district I
was a gone fawn-skin. I could not answer him, and the fact is, I was so fully
convinced that he was right, I did not want to. But I must satisfy him, and I
said to him:"
"Well,
my friend, you hit the nail upon the head when you said I had not sense enough
to understand the Constitution. I intended to be guided by it, and thought I
had studied it fully. I have heard many speeches in Congress about the powers
of Congress, but what you have said here at your plow has got more hard, sound
sense in it than all the fine speeches I have ever heard. If I had ever taken
the view of it that you have, I would have put my head into the fire before I
would have given that vote; and if you will forgive me and vote for me again,
if I ever vote for another unconstitutional law I wish I may be shot."
"He
laughingly replied: 'Yes, Colonel, you have sworn to that once before, but I
will trust you again upon one condition. You say that you are convinced that
your vote was wrong. Your acknowledgment of it will do more good than beating
your for it. If, as you go around the district, you will tell people about this
vote, and that you are satisfied it was wrong, I will not only vote for you,
but will do what I can to keep down opposition, and, perhaps, I may exert some
little influence in that way.'"
"If
I don't," said I. "I wish I may be shot; and to convince you that I
am in earnest in what I say I will come back this way in a week or ten days,
and if you will get up a gathering of the people, I will make a speech to them.
Get up a barbecue, and I will pay for it."
"No,
Colonel, we are not rich people in this section, but we have plenty of
provisions to contribute for a barbecue, and some to spare for those who have
none. The push of crops will be over in a few days, and we can then afford a
day for a barbecue. This is Thursday; I will see to getting it up on Saturday
week. Come to my house on Friday, and we will go together, and I promise you a
very respectable crowd to see and hear you."
"Well,
I will be here. But one thing more before I say good-by. I must know your
name."
"My
name is Bunce."
"Not
Horatio Bunce?"
"Yes."
"Well,
Mr. Bunce, I never saw you before, though you say you have seen me, but I know
you very well. I am glad I have met you, and very proud that I may hope to have
you for my friend."
"It
was one of the luckiest hits of my life that I met him. He mingles but little
with the public, but was widely known for his remarkable intelligence and
incorruptible integrity, and for a heart brimful and running over with kindness
and benevolence, which showed themselves not only in words but in acts. He was
the oracle of the whole country around him, and his fame had extended far
beyond the circle of his immediate acquaintance. Though I had never met him
before, I had heard much of him, and but for this meeting it is very likely I
should have had opposition, and had been beaten. One thing is very certain, no
man could now stand up in that district under such a vote."
"At
the appointed time I was at his house, having told our conversation to every
crowd I had met, and to every man I stayed all night with, and I found that it
gave the people an interest and a confidence in me stronger than I had ever
seen manifested before."
"Though
I was considerably fatigued when I reached his house, and, under ordinary circumstances,
should have gone early to bed, I kept him up until midnight, talking about the
principles and affairs of government, and got more real, true knowledge of them
than I had got all my life before."
"I
have known and seen much of him since, for I respect him-no, that is not the
word-I reverence and love him more than any living man, and I go to see him two
or three times every year; and I will tell you, sir, if every one who professes
to be a Christian lived and acted and enjoyed it as he does, the religion of
Christ would take the world by storm."
"But
to return to my story. The next morning we went to the barbecue, and, to my
surprise, found about a thousand men there. I met a good many whom I had not
known before, and they and my friend introduced me around until I had got
pretty well acquainted-at least, they all knew me."
"In
due time notice was given that I would speak to them. They gathered up around a
stand that had been erected. I opened my speech by saying:"
"Fellow-citizens-I
present myself before you today feeling like a new man. My eyes have lately
been opened to truths which ignorance or prejudice, or both, have heretofore
hidden from my view. I feel that I can today offer you the ability to render
you more valuable service than I have ever been able to render before. I am
here today more for the purpose of acknowledging my error than to seek your
votes. That I should make this acknowledgment is due to myself as well as to
you. Whether you will vote for me is matter for your consideration only."
"I
went on to tell them about the fire and my vote for the appropriation and then
told them why I satisfied it was wrong, I closed by saying:"
"And
now, fellow-citizens, it remains only for me to tell you that most of the
speech you have listened to with so much interest was simply a repetition of
the arguments by which your neighbor, Mr. Bunce, convinced me of my
error."
"It
is the best speech I ever made in my life, but he is entitled to the credit for
it. And now I hope he is satisfied with his convert and that he will get up
here and tell you so."
"He
came upon the stand and said:"
"Fellow-citizens-It
affords me great pleasure to comply with the request of Colonel Crockett. I
have always considered him a thoroughly honest man, and I am satisfied that he
will faithfully perform all that he has promised you today."
"He
went down, and there went up from that crowd such a shout for Davy Crockett as
his name never called forth before."
"I
am not much given to tears, but I was taken with a choking then and felt some
big drops rolling down my cheeks. And I tell your now that the remembrance of
those few words spoken by such a man, and the honest, hearty shout they
produced, is worth more to me than all the honors I have received and all the
reputation I have ever made, or ever shall make, as a member of Congress."
"Now
sir," concluded Crockett, "you know why I made that speech
yesterday."
"There
is one thing now to which I will call your attention. You remember that I
proposed to give a week's pay. There are in that House many very wealthy
men-men who think nothing of spending a week's pay, or a dozen of them, for a
dinner or a wine party when they have something to accomplish by it. Some of
those same men made beautiful speeches upon the great debt of gratitude which
the country owed the deceased-a debt which could not be paid by money-and the
insignificance and worthlessness of money, particularly so insignificant a sum
as $10,000, when weighed against he honor of the nation. Yet not one of them
responded to my proposition. Money with them is nothing but trash when it is to
come out of the people. But is the one great thing for which most of them are
striving, and many of them sacrifice honor, integrity, and justice to obtain
it."
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