Fuller, in his Worthies of Essex, says, "he spread his bread with all sorts of butter, yet none would stick thereon. Yet I hear no man to charge him with any vicious extravagancy, or visible carelessness, imputing his ill success to some occult cause in God's counsel."
I am indebted, in some degree, for these several testimonies, to Mr. Mavor's spirited edition of this book, which he has enriched with a biographical sketch of Tusser, and with many interesting illustrations of his poem. He exhibits another instance of the private character of Tusser, in his concluding remarks on the last page of his work:—"The moral feeling and the pious resignation which breathe in the concluding stanzas of this poem, leave a powerful impression on the mind; and whatever vicissitudes in life the Editor or his Readers may experience, he wishes for Himself and for Them, the same philosophic and christian composure, on a retrospect of the past, and the anticipated view of futurity."
Of Mr. Warton's remarks on Tusser, Mr. Mavor thus partly speaks:—"For the personal kindness of Warton to me, at an early period of life, I shall ever retain an affectionate remembrance of him, and for his genius and high attainments in literature, I feel all that deference and respect which can belong to his most enthusiastic admirers; but no man was less a judge of the merits of a book on Husbandry and Huswifry."
Mr. Warton observes, that "Tusser's general precepts have often an expressive brevity, and are sometimes pointed with an epigrammatic turn, and smartness of allusion."
In Tusser's poetical account of his own unsuccessful life,
How through the briers my youthful years
Have run their race,—
how he was forced from his father's house when a little boy, and driven like a POSTING HORSE, being impressed to sing as a chorister, at Wallingford College; his miseries there, and the stale bread they gave him; the fifty-three stripes the poor lad received at Eton, when learning Latin; his happy transfer to Trinity College, which to him seemed a removal from hell to heaven; the generosity of Lord Paget,
Whose soul I trust is with the just;
then his
——good parents dy'd
One after one, till both were gone,
Whose souls in bliss, be long ere this.