Ex-President John Quincy Adams in Pittsburgh in 1843
TextADDRESS OF WELCOME
Mr. Adams:
I have been deputed by my fellow-citizens, of all parties, to bid you a hearty welcome to this city. I have been directed, Sir, to tender to you the hospitalities of the people, and of the corporate authorities of this, and of our young, but flourishing, sister of Allegheny.
We have not strewed flowers in your path, nor erected triumphal arches at your approach, but greet you with the homage of grateful hearts, as evinced in this spontaneous outpouring of the people. Here, Sir, is the token of that universal regard in which you are held by the free citizens of this great country. And here, Sir, you have the reward for a long life of meritorious public service.
What can be more endearing to the heart of the patriot, than this exhibition of public sentiment; than this manifestation of love for your person, and admiration for your exalted talents and virtues. Like the son of Marcus Cato, you have been a foe to tyrants, and your country's friend, and that country now tenders to you the tribute of her affection and gratitude.
You seem, Sir, "like the aged oak, standing alone on the plain, which time has spared a little longer, after all its cotemporaries have been levelled with the dust," but the people delight to gather round the venerable trunk, and dwell beneath the shadow of its yet green foliage.
Associated as you have been with the Father of his Country, partaking largely of his confidence, and deeply imbued with the lofty patriotism of his character, it must be gratifying to you, to visit this, the theatre of his earliest achievements.
Here, standing on the portals of the Mississippi valley, his prophetic eye reaching far into futurity, he saw the materials for that great empire, with its teeming millions, that now revere and venerate his name. Here it was that Providence thrice spared his invaluable life. Once, on the Venango path, when the rifle of the warrior flashed in the pan. Again, when his frail raft gave way, and he was precipitated amid ice and snow, and the raging of the elements, into the rapid waters of the Allegheny. And again, on the shores of the Monongahela, when Braddock, and Halket, and Peyronney fell, by the deadly aim of the French and Indians. Two horses shot under him, his clothes perforated with bullets, himself a bright and shining mark, yet the leaden messengers were turned aside by an invisible Hand, and he was saved to lead the armies of his country to victory, and to lay deep that precious corner-stone of civil polity, that has no parallel in the history of the world.