David Crockett (1786-1836) was a legend in his own time. Everyone knows him as the "King of the Wild Frontier" who died defending the Alamo, but few people know that, at one time, he seriously considered a career in politics. And, he was adamantly opposed to Indian Removal and several other policies of Jackson's Administration. In fact, there was no love lost between Andrew Jackson and the junior Congressman from the Tennessee delegation. Crockett had seen the cruelty of the Creek War (1813) up close. At that time, already a legend because of his marksmanship and scouting ability, Crockett had joined the Tennessee Militia as a scout. As he explained later, he joined as a civilian scout so that his duties would be limited mostly to reconnoitering and hunting. He would be required to use his rifle to kill Natives only as a last resort. In his memoirs, he details the harrowing experiences of this war, including some too graphic to mention here, but it convinced him that the way the Natives were being treated by the government was wrong. In 1827, he decided to run for Congress and won. He was still in his first term when the Indian Removal bill came up for debate in the House. In those days, etiquette in both Chambers was much stiffer than it is now. New members were expected to know their place and cast their votes silently. Indeed, it might be years before a new Congressman made his first speech. Party loyalty and state/sectional loyalty from these younger legislators was a must, particularly if they wanted the support of the party and their state in the next election. And, there were the voters to think about. Davy had all these competing interests on his mind when he stood up to explain his vote against the Indian Removal Act. The excerpts of his speech given below are from a website "capitolwords", which doesn't seem to have much activity now, or I'd post the link.
In his opening remarks, Davy acknowledges his rookie status in the House, as well as the need to support his state and party. He also acknowledges the need to please, or "settle with" his voters...
"but he
had also a settlement to make at the bar of his God; and what his conscience
dictated to be just and right he would do, be the consequences what they might.
He believed that the people who had been kind enough to give him their
suffrages, supposed him to be an honest man, or they would not have chosen him.
If so, they could not but expect that he should act in the way he thought
honest and right. He had always viewed the native Indian tribes of this country
as a sovereign people. He believed they had been recognised as such from the
very foundation of this government, and the United States were bound by treaty
to protect them; it was their duty to do so. And as to giving to giving the
money of the American people for the purpose of removing them in the manner
proposed, he would not do it. He would do that only for which he could answer
to his God. Whether he could answer it before the people was comparatively
nothing, though it was a great satisfaction to him to have the approbation of
his constituents. Mr. C. said he had served for seven years in a legislative
body. But from the first hour he had entered a legislative hall, he had never
known what party was in legislation; and God forbid he ever should. He went for
the good of the country, and for that only. What he did as a legislator, he did
conscientiously. He should love to go with his colleagues, and with the West
and the South generally, if he could; but he never would let party govern him
in a question of this great consequence. He had many objections to the
bill--some of them of a very serious character. One was, that he did not like
to put half a million of money into the hands of the Executive, to be used in a
manner which nobody could foresee, and which Congress was not to control.
Another objection was, he did not wish to depart from from the foundation of
the government. He considered the present application as the last alternative
for these poor remnants of a once powerful people. Their only chance of aid was
at the hands of Congress. Should its members turn a deaf ear to their cries,
misery must be their fate. That was his candid opinion. Mr. C. said he was
often forcibly reminded of the remark made by the famous Red Jacket, in the
rotunda of this building, where he was shown the pannel which represented in
sculpture the first landing of the Pilgrims, with an Indian chief presenting to
them an ear of corn, in token of friendly welcome. The aged Indian said ``that
was good.'' The Indian said, he knew that they came from the Great Spirit, and
he was willing to share the soil with his brothers from over the great water.
But when he turned round to another pannel representing Penn's treaty, he said
``Ah! all's gone now.'' There was a great deal of truth in this short saying;
and the present bill was a strong commentary upon it. Mr. C. said that four
counties of his district bordered on the Chickasaw country. He knew many of
their tribe; and nothing should ever induce him to vote to drive them west of
the Mississippi. He did not know what sort of a country it was in which they
were to be settled. He would willingly appropriate money in order to send
proper persons to examine the country. And when this had been done, and a fair
and free treaty had been made with the tribes if they were desirous of
removing, he would vote an appropriation of any sum necessary; but till this
had been done, he would not vote one cent. He could not clearly understand the
extent of this bill. It seemed to go to the removal of all the Indians, in any
State east of the Mississippi river, in which the United States owned any land;
Now, there was a considerable number of them still neglected; there was a
considerable number of them in Tennessee, and the United States' government
owned no land in that State, north and east of the congressional reservation
line. No man could be more willing to see them remove than he was if it could
be done in a manner agreeable to themselves; but not otherwise. He knew
personally that a part of the tribe of the Cherokees were unwilling to go. When
the proposal was made to them, they said, ``No; we will take death here at our
homes. Let them come and tomahawk us here at home: we are willing to die, but never
to remove.'' He had heard them use this language. Many different constructions
might be put upon this bill. One of the first things which had set him against
the bill, was the letter from the secretary of war to colonel Montgomery--from
which it appeared that the Indians had been intruded upon. Orders had been
issued to turn them all off except the heads of the Indian families, or such as
possessed improvements Government had taken measures to purchase land from the
Indians who had gone to Arkansas. If this bill should pass, the same plan would
be carried further; they would send and buy them out, and put white men upon
their land. It had never been known that white men and Indians could live
together; and in this case, the Indians were to have no privileges allowed
them, while the white men were to have all. Now, if this was not oppression
with a vengeance, he did not know what was. It was the language of the bill,
and of its friends, that the Indians were not to be driven off against their
will. He knew the Indians were unwilling to go: and therefore he could not
consent to place them in a situation where they would be obliged to go. He
could not stand that. He knew that he stood alone, having, perhaps, none of his
colleagues from his state agreeing in sentiment. He could not help that. He
knew that he should return to his home glad and light in heart, if he voted
against the bill. He felt that it was his wish and purpose to serve his
constituents honestly, according to the light of his conscience. The moment he
should exchange his conscience for mere party views, he hoped his Maker would
no longer suffer him to exist. He spoke the truth in saying so. If he should be
the only member of that House who voted against the bill, and the only man in
the United States who disapproved it, he would still vote against it; and it
would be matter of rejoicing to him till the day he died, that he had given the
vote. He had been told that he should be prostrated; but if so, he would have
the consolation of conscience. He would obey that power, and gloried in the
deed. He cared not for popularity, unless it could be obtained by upright
means. He had seen much to disgust him here; and he did not wish to represent
his fellow citizens, unless he could be permitted to act conscientiously. He
had been told that he did not understand English grammar. That was very true.
He had never been six months at school in his life; he had raised himself by
the labor of his hands. But he did not, on that account, yield upon his
privilege as the representative of freemen on this floor. Humble as he was, he
meant to exercise his privilege. He had been charged with not representing his
constituents. If the fact was so, the error (said Mr. C.) is here, (touching
his head) not here (laying his hand upon his heart). He never had possessed
wealth or education, but he had ever been animated by an independent spirit;
and he trusted to prove it on the present occasion."
The Indian Removal Act passed the House by a vote of 101-97. Davy would have to answer to his constituents, who were not happy about his vote. He lost reelection in 1831, but returned to Congress for another District in 1833. After losing another election in 1835, he left for Texas and the rest is history. But his courageous and compassionate vote on behalf of Natives is a matter of Congressional record.
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