[Congressional Record Volume 140, Number 22 (Thursday, March 3, 1994)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Page E]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Printing Office [www.gpo.gov]


[Congressional Record: March 3, 1994]
From the Congressional Record Online via GPO Access [wais.access.gpo.gov]

 
                        TRIBUTE TO DAVY CROCKETT

                                 ______


                     HON. JAMES H. (JIMMY) QUILLEN

                              of tennessee

                    in the house of representatives

                        Thursday, March 3, 1994

  Mr. QUILLEN. Mr. Speaker, one of the most colorful Members of this 
body in its 205-year history was undoubtedly David Crockett, the 
legendary frontiersman. Davy Crockett was born in what is now Greene 
County, TN, which is in my district, in 1786. He was a Member of the 
House from 1827 to 1831, and again from 1833 to 1835. In 1836 he went 
to Texas to join in its struggle for independence from Mexico, and he 
died defending the Alamo on March 6 of that year.
  During his service in the House, Davy Crockett was a paragon of 
fiscal restraint and public responsibility. Recently, my constituent, 
Thelma Cutshall, sent me an excerpt from a biography of Crockett 
entitled ``A Humbling Lesson--Congressman Davy Crockett Learns About 
Limited Government.'' I have not heard the story before, and it hit me 
right between the eyes. I am certain that these words will provide 
guidance to my colleagues as well, so I am happy to include them here.

   A Humbling Lesson--Congressman Davy Crockett Learns About Limited 
                               Government

       (In the following, excerpted from the book, The Life of 
     Colonel David Crockett (1884), compiled by Edward S. Ellis, 
     the famous American frontiersman, war hero and congressman 
     from Tennessee, relates how he learned--from one of his own 
     backwoods constituents--the vital importance of heeding the 
     Constitution and the dangers of disregarding its restraints.)
       Crockett was then the lion of Washington. I was a great 
     admirer of his character; and, having several friends who 
     were intimate with him, I found no difficulty in making his 
     acquaintance. I was fascinated with him, and he seemed to 
     take a fancy to me.
       I was one day in the lobby of the House of Representatives 
     when 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, rather, as I 
     thought, because it afforded the speakers a fine opportunity 
     for display than from the necessity of convincing anybody, 
     for it seemed to me that everybody favored it.
       The Speaker was just about to put the question when 
     Crockett arose. Everybody expected, of course, that he was 
     going to make one of his characteristic speeches in support 
     of the bill. He commenced:
       ``Mr. Speaker--I have as much respect for the memory of the 
     deceased and as much sympathy for the sufferings of the 
     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 it 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. This government can owe 
     no debts but for services rendered, and at a stipulated 
     price. If it is a debt, how much is it? Has it been audited, 
     and the amount due ascertained? If it is a debt, this is not 
     the place to present it for payment, or to have its merits 
     examined. If it is a debt, we owe more than we can ever hope 
     to pay, for we owe the widow of every soldier who fought in 
     the War of 1812 precisely the same amount.
       ``There is a woman in my neighborhood, the widow of as 
     gallant a man as ever shouldered a musket. He fell in battle. 
     She is as good in every respect as this lady--and is as poor. 
     She is earning her daily bread by her daily labor. But if I 
     were to introduce a bill to appropriate five or ten thousand 
     dollars for her benefit, I should be laughed at, and my bill 
     would not get five votes in this House. There are thousands 
     of widows in the country just such as the one I have spoken 
     of, but we never hear of any of these large debts to them.
       ``Sir, this is no debt. The government did not owe it to 
     the deceased when he was alive; it could not contract it 
     after he died. I do not wish to be rude, but I must be plain. 
     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 of our own money 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 than 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.
       Like many other young men--and old ones too for that 
     matter--who had not thought upon the subject, I desired the 
     passage of the bill and felt outraged at its defeat. I 
     determined that I would persuade my friend Crockett to move a 
     reconsideration the next day.
       Previous engagements preventing me from seeing Crockett 
     that night, I went early to his room the next morning and 
     found him engaged in addressing and franking letters, a large 
     pile of which lay upon his table.
       I broke in upon him rather abruptly by asking him what 
     devil had possessed him to make that speech and defeat that 
     bill yesterday. Without turning his head or looking up from 
     his work, he replied:
       ``You see that I am very busy now; take a seat and cool 
     yourself. I will be through in a few minutes; then I will 
     tell you all about it.''
       He continued his employment for about ten minutes, and when 
     he had finished he turned to me and said:
       ``Now, Sir, I will answer your question. But thereby hangs 
     a tale, and one of considerable length, to which you will 
     have to listen.''
       I listened, and this is the tale which I heard:
       ``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, 
     evidently a large fire. We jumped into a hack and drove over 
     as fast as we could. When we got there, I went to work, and I 
     never worked as hard in my life as I did there for several 
     hours. But, in spite of all that could be done, many houses 
     were burned and many families made houseless. 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. 
     Everybody else seemed to feel the same way.
       ``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.
       ``I said everybody felt as I did. That was not quite so; 
     for, though they perhaps sympathized as deeply with the 
     sufferers as I did, there were a few of the members who did 
     not think we had the right to indulge our sympathy or excite 
     our charity at the expense of anybody but ourselves. They 
     opposed the bill and, upon its passage, demanded the yeas and 
     nays. There were not enough of them to sustain the call. Many 
     of us wanted our names to appear in favor of what we 
     considered a praiseworthy measure, so we voted with them to 
     sustain it. They yeas and nays were recorded, and my name 
     appeared on the journals in favor of the bill.
       ``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 not know what might 
     turn up, and I though it was best to let the boys know that I 
     had not forgot them, and that going to Congress had not made 
     me too proud to go to see them.
       ``So I put a couple of shirts and a few twists of tobacco 
     into my saddlebags and put out. I had been out about a week 
     and had found things going very smoothly, 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, and was about turning his 
     horse for another furrow when I said to him, `Don't be in 
     such a hurry, my friend; I want to have a little talk with 
     you and get better acquainted.'
       ``He replied, `I am very busy, and have but little time to 
     talk, but if it does not take too long, I will listen to what 
     you have to say.'
       ``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 you the last time you 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 worthwhile 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?'
       ```Certainly it is, and I thought that was the last vote 
     which anybody in the world would have found fault with.'
       ```Well, Colonel, where do you find in the Constitution any 
     authority to give away the public money in charity?'
       ``Here was another sockdolager; for, when I began to think 
     about it, I could not remember a thing in the Constitution 
     that authorized it. I found I must take another tack, so I 
     said:
       ```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 he 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 
     the 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 not any other member of Congress would have though 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 about 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.'''
       ``I have given you,'' continued Crockett, ``an imperfect 
     account of what he said. Long before he was through, I was 
     convinced that I had done wrong. He wound up by saying:
       ```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 are 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 there at your plow 
     has got more hard, sound sense in it than all the fine 
     speeches I 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 you 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. You must let me shake your hand before I go.'
       ``We shook hands and parted.
       ``It was one of the luckiest hits of my life that I met 
     him. He mingled 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. 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 I got more real, 
     true knowledge of them than I had got all my life before.
       ``I have told you Mr. Bunce converted me politically. He 
     came nearer converting me religiously than I had ever been 
     before. He did not make a very good Christian of me, as you 
     know; but he has wrought upon my mind a conviction of the 
     truth of Christianity, and upon my feelings a reverence for 
     its purifying and elevating power such as I had never felt 
     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. I go to see him two or three times every 
     year. 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. 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, had 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 a matter for 
     your consideration only.'
       ``I went on to tell them about the fire and my vote for the 
     appropriation as I have told it to you, and then told them 
     why I was satisfied it was wrong. I closed by saying:
       ```And now, fellow-citizens, it remains only for me to tell 
     you that the 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 of 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 me 
     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 you 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. I have had several thousand copies of 
     it printed and was directing them to my constituents when you 
     came in.
       ``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 weighted against the 
     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 it is the one great thing for 
     which most of them are striving, and many of them sacrifice 
     honor, integrity, and justice to obtain it.''

                          ____________________