An Autobiography of Davy Crockett

by Stephen Brennan

  The liberal Legislature you know, of course, gave him that county and it is too clear to admit of dispute that it was done to make a mash of me. In order to make my district in this way, they had to form the southern district of a string of counties around three sides of mine, or very nearly so. Had my old district been properly divided, it would have made two nice ones in convenient nice form. But as it is, they are certainly the most unreasonably laid off of any in the state, or perhaps in the nation, or even in the te-total creation.

  However, when the election came on, the peo ple of the district, and of Madison county among the rest, seemed disposed to prove to Mr. Fitzge rald and the Jackson Legislature that they were not to be transferred like hogs and horses and cattle in the market and they determined that I shouldn’t be broke down, though I had to carry Jackson and the enemies of the bank and the legislative works all at once. I had Mr. Fitzgerald, it is true, for my open competitor but he was helped along by all his little lawyers again, headed by old Black Hawk, as he is sometimes called, (alias) Adam Huntsman, with all his talents for writing “Chro nicles” and such like foolish stuff.

  But one good thing was, and I must record it, the papers in the district were now beginning to say “fair play a little” and they would publish on both sides of the question. The contest was a warm one and the battle well-fought; but I gained the day and the Jackson horse was left a little behind. When the polls were compared, it turned out I had beat Fitz just two hundred and two votes, having made a mash of all their intrigues. After all this, the reader will perceive that I am now here in Congress, this 28th day of January in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hun dred and thirty-four and that I am at liberty to vote as my conscience and judgment dictates to be right without the yoke of any party on me or the driver at my heels, with his whip in hand, commanding me to ge-wo-haw just at his pleasure. Look at my arms, you will find no party hand-cuff on them! Look at my neck, you will not find there any collar with the engraving:

  MY DOG.

  ANDREW JACKSON.

  But you will find me standing up to my rack, as the people’s faithful representative and the pub lic’s most obedient, very humble servant.

  DAVID CROCKETT.

  PART TWO

  An Account of Col. Crockett’s

  Tour to the North and Down East

  AN

  ACCOUNT

  OF

  COL. CROCKETT’S TOUR

  TO THE

  NORTH AND DOWN EAST,

  IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD ONE THOUSAND

  EIGHT HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FOUR.

  HIS

  OBJECT BEING TO EXAMINE THE GRAND MANUFACTURING ESTABLISHMENT OF THE COUNTRY; AND ALSO TO FIND OUT THE CONDITION OF ITS LITERATURE AND MORALS, THE EXTENT OF ITS COMMERCE, AND THE PRACTICAL OPERATION

  OF

  “THE EXPERIMENT.”

  “When thou dont read a book, do not turn the leaves only, but gather the fruit.”

  WRITTEN BY HIMSELF.

  PHILADELPHIA:

  E. L. CAREY AND A. HART.

  BALTIMORE:

  CAREY, HART & CO.

  1835.

  CHAPTER 5

  I Tour the East / New York / Boston

  During the session of this Congress, I thought I would take a travel through the Northern States. I had braved the lonely forests of the West, I had shouldered the war rior’s rifle in the far South; but the North and East I had never seen. I seemed to like members of Congress who came from these parts and wished to know what kind of constituents they had. These considerations, in addition to my physician’s advice to travel a little for my health, induced me to leave Washington on the 25th day of April, 1834, and steer for the North.

  I arrived the same evening at Barnum’s Hotel in Baltimore. Uncle Davy, as he is often called, was right glad to see me, perhaps because we were namesakes or maybe he always likes to see folks patronize his house. He has a pleasant face and his acts don’t belie it. No one need look for better quarters; if they do, it will be because they don’t know when they are satisfied.

  Shortly after I arrived, I was called upon and asked to eat supper with a number of gentlemen. I went and passed the evening pleasantly with my friend Wilkes and others.

  Early next morning, I started for Philadelphia, a place where I had never been. I sort of felt lonesome as I went down to the steamboat. The idea of going among a new people, where there are tens of thousands who would pass me by without knowing or caring who I was, who are all taken up with their own pleasures or their own business, made me feel small and, indeed, if any one who reads this book has a grand idea of his own importance, let him go to a big city and he will find that he is not higher valued than a coon-skin.

  The steamboat was the Carroll of Carrollton, a fine craft with the rum old commodore Chaytor for head man. A good fellow he is, all sorts of a man, bowing and scraping to the ladies, nodding to the gentlemen, cursing the crew, and his right eye broad-cast upon the “opposition line,” all at the same time. “Let go!” said the old one and off we walked in prime style.

  We immediately came past Fort McHenry, justly cel ebrated for its gallant defence under Armistead, Stewart, Nicholson, Newcomb, and others during the last war; and shortly after we passed North Point, where the British landed to make what they never dared, an attack on Baltimore.

  Our passage down the Chesapeake bay was very pleas ant and in a very short run we came to the place where we were to get on board of the railroad cars.

  This was a clean new sight to me; about a dozen big stages hung on to one machine and to start up hill. After a good deal of fuss, we all got seated and moved slowly off, the engine wheezing as if she had the tizzick. By-and-by she began to take short breaths and away we went with a blue streak after us. The whole distance is seven teen miles and it was run in fifty-five minutes.

  While I was whizzing along, I burst out a laughing. One of the passengers asked me what it was at. “Why,” says I, “it’s no wonder the fellow’s horses run off.” A Carolina wagoner had just crossed the railroad from Charleston to Augusta when the engine hove in sight with the cars attached. It was growing dark and the sparks were flying in all directions. His horses ran off, broke his wagon and smashed his combustibles into items. He run to a house for help and when they asked him what scared his horses, he said he did not jist know, but it must be hell in harness.

  At Delaware City, I again embarked on board of a splendid steamboat, which ran to Philadelphia.

  When dinner was ready, I set down with the rest of the passengers; among them was the Rev. O. B. Brown of the Post Office Department, who sat near me. During dinner, the parson called for a bottle of wine and called on me for a toast. Not knowing whether he intended to compli ment me or abash me among so many strangers, or have some fun at my expense, I concluded to go ahead and give him and his likes a blizzard. So our glasses being filled, the word went round, “a toast from Colonel Crockett.” I gave it as follows: “Here’s wishing the bones of tyrant kings may answer in hell, in place of gridirons, to roast the souls of Tories on.” At this the parson appeared as if he was stump’t. I said, “Never heed; it was meant for where it belonged.” He did not repeat his in vitation and I ate my dinner quietly.

  After dinner I went up on the deck and saw the captain hoisting three flags. Says I, “What does that mean?” He replied that he was under promise to the citizens of Phila delphia, if I was on board, to hoist his flags, as a friend of mine had said he expected I would be along soon.

  We went on till we came in sight of the city and as we advanced towards the wharf, I saw the whole face of the earth covered with people, all anxiously looking on towards the boat. The captain and myself were standing on the bow-deck; he pointed his finger at me, and people slung their hats, and huzzaed for Colonel Crockett. It struck me with astonishment to hear a strange people huzzaing for me and made me feel sort of queer. It took me so uncommon unexpected, as I had no idea of at tracting attention. But I had to meet it, and so I s
tepped on to the wharf, where the folks came crowding around me saying, “Give me the hand of an honest man.” I did not know what all this meant, but some gentleman took hold of me, and pressing through the crowd, put me into an elegant barouche, drawn by four fine horses; they then told me to bow to the people, I did so and with much difficulty we moved off. The streets were crowded to a great distance and the windows full of people looking out I, supposed, to see the wild man. I thought I had rather be in the wilderness with my gun and dogs than to be attracting all that fuss. I had never seen the like before and did not know exactly what to say or do. After some time we reached the United States Hotel in Chesnut Street.

  The crowd had followed me, filling up the street and pressing into the house to shake hands. I was conducted up stairs and walked out on a platform, drew off my hat, and bowed round to the people. They cried out from all quarters, “A speech, a speech, Colonel Crockett.”

  After the noise had quit, so I could be heard, I said to them the following words:

  “GENTLEMEN OF PHILADELPHIA:—My visit to your city is rather accidental. I had no expectation of attracting any uncommon attention. I am traveling for my health with out the least wish of exciting the people in such times of high political feeling. I do not wish to encourage it. I am unable at this time to find language suitable to return my gratitude to the citizens of Philadelphia. However, I am almost induced to believe it flattery—perhaps a burlesque. This is new to me, yet I see nothing but friendship in your faces and if your curiosity is to hear the backwoodsman, I will assure you I am illy prepared to address this most enlightened people. However, gentlemen, if this is a curiosity to you, if you will meet me tomorrow at one o’clock, I will endeavor to address you in my plain man ner.” So I made my obeisance to them and retired into the house.

  After night, when I could walk out unknown, I went up street or down, I don’t know which, but took good care not to turn any corners, for fear I might get lost. I soon found that the streets were laid off square. This I thought was queer enough for a Quaker city, for they don’t generally come up square to nothing; even their coats have a kind of slope, at least so they have cut Mister Penn’s coat in the capitol. This may be wrong, too, for I was told that when the man who made him first knocked off “the kivers” of the house where he worked at him, he had cut out Mister Penn with a regular built continental cocked hat on and it was so much laughed at, to see such a hat on a Quaker, that as soon as Congress rose, he cut off his head and worked on a new one with a rale sloped broad brim. Which is the honest George Fox hat? I leave for Philadelphia lawyers and persons to decide.

  When I went to my room and got to bed, I could not sleep, thinking over all that passed and my promise also to speak the next day, but at last I composed myself with the reflection that I had got through many a scrape before, so I thought I’d trust again to good luck.

  Next morning I had the honor of being called on by some old friends whom I knew at Washington—Judge Baldwin, Judge Hemphill, John Sergeant and others, and I took it right kind in them to do so.

  Early after breakfast I was taken to the Water-works where I saw several of the gentlemen managers. This is a grand sight and no wonder the Philadelphians ask every one that comes, “Have you seen the Water-works?” Just think of a few wheels throwing up more water than five hundred thousand people can use: yes, and waste, too; for such scrubbing of steps, and even the very pavements under your feet, I never saw. Indeed, I looked close to see if the house-maids had not web-feet, they walked so well in water and as for a fire, it has no chance at all, they just screw on a long hollow leather with a brass nose on it, dash up stairs, and seem to draw on Noah’s flood.

  The next place I visited was the Mint. Here I saw them coining gold and silver in abundance, and they were the real “e pluribus unum,” not this electioneering trash that they sent out to cheat the poor people telling them they would all be paid in gold and silver, when the poor deceived creatures had nothing coming to them. A chip with a spit on the back of it is as good currency as an eagle, provided you can’t get the image of the bird. It’s all nonsense. The President, both cabinets and Congress to boot, can’t enact poor men into rich. Hard knocks, and plenty of them, can only build up a fellow’s self.

  I asked if the workmen never stole any of the coin. They said not: they got used to it. Well, I thought that was what my parson would call heterodox doctrine, that the longer a man was in temptation, the more he would not sin. But I let it pass, for I had heard that they had got “new lights” in this city and, of course, new and genuine doctrines—so that the Bible-doxy stood no chance. I could not help, barring the doctrine, giving these honest men great credit; especially when I recollected an old sancti-moniouslyfied fellow who made his negroes whistle while they were picking cherries, for fear they should eat some.

  From the Mint I was taken to the Asylum for insane persons, went through different apartments, saw men and women, some quite distracted, others not so bad. This was a very unpleasant sight. I am not able, nor do I wish I was able, to describe it. I felt monstrous solemn and could not help thanking God I was not one of them; and I felt grateful in their stead to that city for caring for those who could not take care of themselves, and feeding them that heeded not the hand and heart that provided for them.

  On returning to the hotel, the hour had nearly arrived when I was to visit the Exchange. I asked Colonel Dorrance, the landlord, to go with me. He is a very clever man and made me feel quite at home in his house. Whoever goes there once will go back again. So he agreed and off we started.

  I had made set speeches in Congress, especially on my Tennessee land bill, when all my colleagues were against me. I had made stump speeches at home in the face of all the little office yelpers who were opposed to me but, indeed, when I got within sight of the Exchange and saw the streets crowded, I most wished to take back my promise but I was brought up by hearing a youngster say, as I passed by, “Go ahead, Davy Crockett.” I said to myself, “I have faced the enemy; these are friends. I have fronted the savage red man of the forest; these are civ ilized. I’ll keep cool and let them have it.”

  I was conducted to the house of a Mr. Neil where I met several gentlemen and took some refreshment, not passing by a little Dutch courage. Of the latter there was plenty and I observed the man of the house, when he asked me to drink, he didn’t stand by to see what I took, but turned away and told me to help myself. That’s what I call genteel.

  Arrived at the Exchange, I crowded through, went up to the second floor and walked out on the porch, drew off my hat and made my bow; speaking was out of the question, the huzzas for Crockett were so loud and so long.

  The time had come when my promise must be kept. There must have been more than five thousand people and they were still gathering from all parts. I spoke for about half an hour.

  Three times three cheers closed the concern and I came down to the door, where it appeared as if all the world had a desire to shake hands with me. I stood on the door-step and, as Major Jack Downing said, shook hands as hard as I could spring for near an hour. After this I re turned to the hotel and remained until night, when I was asked to visit the theatre in Walnut street. The land lord, Dorrance, and others, were to go with me to see Jim Crow. While we were talking about it, one of them said he could go all over the world “To crow juicy.” Some laughed very hearty and others did not. I was among the latter, for I considered it a dry joke, although there was something juicy in it. Some of them said it was Latin and that proved to me the reason why I did not laugh; I was tired of the “old Roman.” But these Philadelphians are eternally cutting up jokes on words so I puts a con undrum to them and says I, “Can you tell me why the sacking of Jerusalem was like a cider-mill?” Well, they all were stumped and gave it up. “Because it made the Jews fly.” Seeing them so much pleased with this, says I, “Why is a cow like a razor-grinder?” No one could answer. “Well,” says I, “I thought you could find that out, for I don’t know myself.”r />
  We started for the theatre and found a very full house and Jim a-playing for the dear life. Jim makes as good a nigger as if he was clean black, except the bandy legs.

  Everybody seemed pleased, particularly when I laughed. They appeared to act as if I knew exactly when to laugh and then they all followed.

  What a pity it is that these theatres are not contrived that everybody could go; but the fact is, backwoodsman as I am, I have heard some things in them that was a leetle too tough for good women and modest men; and that’s a great pity, because there are thousands of scenes of real life that might be exhibited, both for amusement and edification, without offending. Folks pretend to say that high people don’t mind these things. Well, it may be that they are better acquainted with vice than we plain folks; but I am yet to live and see a woman polished out of the natural feelings, or too high not to do things that ain’t quite reputable in those of low degree.

  Their fiddling was pretty good, considering every fel low played his own piece; and I would have known more about it, if they had played a tune, but it was all twee-wee-tadlum-tadlum-tum-tum, tadle-leedle-tadle-lee-dle-lee. The “Twenty-second of February” or the “Cuckoo’s Nest” would have been a treat.

  I do not think, however, from all I saw, that the people enjoyed themselves better than we do at a country frolic, where we dance till daylight and pay off the score by giving one in our turn. It would do you good to see our boys and girls dancing. None of your stradling, mincing, sadying; but a regular sifter, cut-the-buckle, chicken-flutter set-to. It is good wholesome exercise and when one of our boys puts his arm round his partner, it is a good hug and no harm in it.

  Next morning I was waited on by some gentlemen who presented me with a seal for my watch-chain, which cost forty dollars. I told them I always accepted a present as a testimony of friendship. The engraving on the stone represents the great match race, two horses in full speed and over them the words “Go ahead.” It is the finest seal I ever saw and when I returned to Washington, the mem bers almost used it up, making copies to send all over the country.