No doubt is entertained on any hand that the field-culture of the
potato was first practised in Scotland by a man of humble condition,
originally a pedlar, by name Henry Prentice. He was an eccentric
person, as many have been who stepped out of the common walk to do
things afterwards discovered to be great. A story is told that while
the potatoes were growing in certain little fields which he leased near
our city, Lord Minto came from time to time to inquire about the crop.
Prentice at length told his lordship that the experiment was entirely
successful, and all he wanted was a horse and cart to drive his
potatoes to Edinburgh that they might be sold. ‘I’ll give you a horse
and cart,’ said his lordship. Prentice then took his crop to market,
cart by cart, till it was all sold, after which he disposed of _the
horse and cart_, which he affected to believe Lord Minto had given him
as a present.
Having towards the close of his days realised a small sum of money, he
sunk £140 in the hands of the Canongate magistrates, as managers of the
poorhouse of that parish, receiving in return seven shillings a week,
upon which he lived for several years. Occasionally he made little
donations to the charity. During his last years he was an object of no
small curiosity in Edinburgh, partly on account of his connection with
potato culture and partly by reason of his oddities. It was said of him
that he would never shake hands with any human being above two years of
age. In his bargain with the Canongate dignitaries, it was agreed that
he should have a _good grave_ in their churchyard, and one was selected
according to his own choice. Over this, thinking it as well, perhaps,
that he should enjoy a little quasi-posthumous notoriety during his
life, he caused a monument to be erected, bearing this inscription:
‘Be not anxious to know how I lived,
But rather how you yourself should die.’
He also had a coffin prepared at the price of two guineas, taking
the undertaker bound to screw it down gratis with his own hands. In
addition to all this, his friends the magistrates were under covenant
to bury him with a hearse and four coaches. But even the designs of
mortals respecting the grave itself are liable to disappointment. Owing
to the mischief done by the boys to the premature monument, Prentice
saw fit to have it removed to a quieter cemetery, that of Restalrig,
where, at his death in 1788, he was accordingly interred.
Such was the originator of that extensive culture of the potato which
has since borne so conspicuous a place in the economics of our country,
for good and for evil.
It is curious that this plant, although the sole support of millions of
our population, should now again (1846) have fallen under suspicion.
At its first introduction, and for several ages thereafter, it was
regarded as a vegetable of by no means good character, though for a
totally different reason from any which affect its reputation in our
day. Its supposed tendency to inflame some of the sensual feelings
of human nature is frequently adverted to by Shakespeare and his
contemporaries; and this long remained a popular impression in the
north.[254]