Previous to 1820 the inhabitants of the North-west had very little prospect that agriculture would ever be the “road to affluence.” The natural barriers to transportation were viewed as permanent obstacles. A water-way was ridiculed by high authority, which pronounced it little short of madness, and the newspapers in the East had shown the impracticability; and the Western land-owner manifested but little dissatisfaction. He found his way to this country in order to live, and was happy in finding enough to make it easy. He anticipated but little from agriculture as a source of profit. In the Eastern states it had not given satisfaction. But with the population increasing and foreign demand improving, and facilities for transportation better, things showed they were undergoing a change in the older states; and the markets were becoming better, with better management of farms and farming, than at any period since colonial times.
In 1823 Charles A. Goodrich, of Hartford, Conn., wrote: “Until within a few years agriculture, both as a science and art, is receiving much of that attention which its acknowledged importance demands. It is beginning to be regarded, as it should be, not only as the basis of subsistence and population, but as the parent of individual and national opulence.”
At this date corn was selling to feeders at six cents per bushel in Ohio, and wheat at twenty-five cents. But a few years later agriculture in the North-west was beginning to be regarded as the “basis of subsistence and parent of individual and national opulence,” also.
The idea of a prospective market for the products of the soil, that would well remunerate the labor of production, was already being felt, and creating an enthusiasm and preparation for farming on a larger scale. Labor was plenty and wages fair, and the work of destruction of timber and increasing the acreage for cultivation went on rapidly. Large areas were deadened to facilitate the removal, and the sunshine in many places found its way to earth, where it had been excluded for ages. And the common squirrel hunter soon underwent an expansion of character that led on to eminence in agriculture, art, science, commerce, courts, congress, and cabinet. The things said and done caused the legislature, in 1822, to pass an act authorizing the employment of engineers to examine and report the “practicability of making a canal from Lake Erie to the Ohio river;” and in 1825, after four years of the most arduous labor and discussion, the work was determined upon, and Governor De Witt Clinton and others, among whom were Solomon Van Rensselaer, of Albany, and United States Judge Conkling and Mr. Lord, of New York, were invited to be present at the commencement of the great work, which was to have its beginning three miles west of Newark, July 4, 1825.
The people of the entire state were under high excitement at the new era which seemed approaching so rapidly, and acted quite differently from what they likely would at the present day on the commencement of a public enterprise. Then many thousands assembled to see “The Father of Internal Improvements,” and to hear what “the best-looking man the nation had ever produced” had to say on the subject of which he was the reputed father.
The time was near at hand, and on the arrival of the great Governor of New York at Cleveland, the ovation was grand; he was welcomed by Governor Morrow, state legislature, officials, military organizations, and by the people. And flags, and guns, and noisy display were beyond the power of description. And before the sun had risen, July 4, 1825, every thoroughfare to Newark was crowded with all kinds of loaded vehicles; men and women on horseback, and men, women, and children on foot—many of whom had traveled all night in order to reach the appointment on time. And the wonder was, where all the immense, uncounted, and unaccountable mass of human-beings came from.
The day was fair and the air cool and balmy, as Ohio atmosphere is after recent July showers. Newark at this time had less than one thousand inhabitants, but the country surrounding was amply large to accommodate the crowd which desired to pay their respects to the man whose influence, energy, ability, and perseverance were able to advance civilization, at once, half a century, by the magic wand of public improvements. And when Governor Clinton’s carriage appeared on the public square at Newark, thousands of voices rent the air with loud and long huzzas of welcome; and to which was added, the firing of one hundred guns. And the immense procession at once began moving for the spot prepared for the ceremony of the “spade and barrow,” three miles in the country. Governor Clinton took the first spadeful amid the enthusiastic shouts of thousands. The Ohio Governor, squirrel hunter, statesman, and farmer, next sunk the implement its full depth. And so from one to another the spade passed, until the wheel-barrow could hold no more, and was taken to the designated dump by Captain Ned King, of Chillicothe, amid one wild, indescribable, and continuous cheering.
Hon. Thomas Ewing was orator of the day, and when the Governor of New York attempted his reply, the bursts of applause were so great he was obliged to pause, “and being unaccustomed to such demonstrations and tokens of respect, shed tears in the presence of his worshipers.” After the addresses the entire audience, estimated at not less than ten thousand, dined in the shade of the wide-spreading beech trees, the underbrush having been cleared off from several acres for the purpose, and seats arranged and tables spread with a sumptuous dinner for all, furnished by the liberality of one man, Goetleib Steinman, of Lancaster, Ohio.
The regular toasts were limited to thirteen, but the volunteers were still going on when the editor of the Olive Branch retired late in the evening.