The following story about the famed American icon Davy Crockett was
published in Harper's Magazine in 1867, as written by James J. Bethune, a
pseudonym used by Edward S. Ellis. The events that are recounted here
are true, including Crockett's opposition to the bill in question,
though the precise rendering and some of the detail are fictional.
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 when Davy Crockett arose:
“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.
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 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.
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 not 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 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 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 intrusted 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 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
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.
“‘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 here 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.’
Nobody cares one whit whether or not you consider Donald J. Trump your president. He is now the
