The
below is something I think we should all keep in mind as the time
for voting for our elected officials draws near. I think
this sets a high standard for taxing, spending, and accounting for
the tax payers dollar. I fear that the ending sentence is
all too true, even today.
Kevin
Henderson
Davy
Crockett vs. Welfare
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, and 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. It was 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 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, and 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, but many of us wanted our
names to appear in favor of what we considered a praiseworthy
measure, and we voted with them to sustain it. So the 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 thought 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 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 Constitution 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 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."
I
have given you 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 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 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 full. 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-bye. 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, 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 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, and I go to see him two or three times every year; and
I will tell you, sir, if everyone 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 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 you today."
He
went down, and there went up from the 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, particularly so insignificant a sum as $10,000, when
weighed 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."
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