Mr. Crockett said, that, considering his very humble
     abilities, it might be expected that he should content
     himself with a silent vote; but, situated as he was, in
     relation to his colleagues, he felt it to be a duty to
     himself to explain the motives which governed him in the vote
     he should give on this bill. Gentlemen had already discussed
     the treaty-making power; and had done it much more ably than
     he could pretend to do. He should not therefore enter on that
     subject, but would merely make an explanation as to the
     reasons of his vote, He did not know whether a man (that is,
     a member of Congress) within 500 miles of his residence would
     give a similar vote; but he knew, at the same time, that he
     should give that vote with a clear conscience. He had his
     constituents to settle with, he was aware; and should like to
     please them as well as other gentlemen; 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 rotundo 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

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     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.