The strings were of three sorts, minikins, Venice Catlins, and Lyons, for the basses; but the very best for the basses were called Pistoy Basses; these, which were smooth and well-twisted strings, but hard to come by, he supposes to be none others than thick Venice Catlins, and commonly dyed of a deep dark red. The red strings however were commonly rotten, so were the yellow, the green sometimes very good; the clear blue the best. But good strings might be spoilt in a quarter of an hour, if they were exposed to any wet, or moist air. Therefore they were to be bound close together, and wrapt closely up either in an oiled paper, a bladder, or a piece of sere cloth, “such as often comes over with them,” and then to be kept in some close box, or cupboard, but not amongst linen (for that gives moisture,) and in a room where is usually a fire. And when at any time you open them for your use, take heed they lie not too long open, nor in a dark window, nor moist place; for moisture is the worst enemy to your strings.
“How to choose and find a true string, which is the most curious piece of skill in stringing, is both a pretty curiosity to do, and also necessary. First, draw out a length, or more; then take the end, and measure the length it must be of, within an inch or two, (for it will stretch so much at least in the winding up,) and hold that length in both hands, extended to reasonable stiffness: then, with one of your fingers strike it; giving it so much liberty in slackness as you may see it vibrate, or open itself. If it be true, it will appear to the eye, just as if they were two strings; but if it shows more than two, it is false, and will sound unpleasantly upon your instrument, nor will it ever be well in tune, either stopt or open, but snarl.” Sir John Hawkins observes that this direction is given by Adrian Le Roy in his instructions for the lute, and is adopted both by Mersennus and Kircher. Indeed this experiment is the only known test of a true string, and for that reason is practised by such as are curious at this day.
In his directions for playing, Master Mace says, “take notice that you strike not your strings with your nails, as some do, who maintain it the best way of play; but I do not; and for this reason; because the nail cannot draw so sweet a sound from the lute as the nibble end of the flesh can do. I confess in a concert it might do well enough, where the mellowness, (which is the most excellent satisfaction from a lute) is lost in the crowd; but alone, I could never receive so good content from the nail as from the flesh.”
Mace considered it to be absolutely necessary that all persons who kept lutes should know how to repair them; for he had known a lute “sent fifty or sixty miles to be mended of a very small mischance, (scarce worth twelve pence for the mending) which besides the trouble and cost of carriage, had been broken all to pieces in the return, and so farewell lute and all the cost.” One of the necessary tools for this work is “a little working knife, such as are most commonly made of pieces of broken good blades, fastened into a pretty thick haft of wood or bone, leaving the blade out about two or three inches;” “grind it down upon the back,” he says, “to a sharp point, and set to a good edge; it will serve you for many good uses, either in cutting, carving, making pins, &c.”
His directions for this work are exceedingly minute; but when the lute was in order, it was of no slight importance to keep it so, and for this also he offers some choice observations. “You shall do well, ever when you lay it by in the day-time, to put it into a bed that is constantly used, between the rug and blanket, but never between the sheets, because they may be moist.” “This is the most absolute and best place to keep it in always.” “There are many great commodities in so doing; it will save your strings from breaking, it will keep your lute in good order, so that you shall have but small trouble in tuning it; it will sound more brisk and lively, and give you pleasure in the very handling of it; if you have any occasion extraordinary to set up your lute at a higher pitch, you may do it safely, which otherwise you cannot so well do, without danger to your instrument and strings: it will be a great safety to your instrument, in keeping it from decay, it will prevent much trouble in keeping the bars from flying loose and the belly from sinking: and these six conveniences considered all together, must needs create a seventh, which is, that lute-playing must certainly be very much facilitated, and made more delightful thereby. Only no person must be so inconsiderate as to tumble down upon the bed whilst the lute is there, for I have known, said he, several good lutes spoilt with such a trick.”
I will not say of the reader, who after the foregoing specimens of Music's Monument has no liking for Master Mace and his book that he
Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoil,
but I cannot but suspect that he has no taste for caviare, dislikes laver, would as willingly drink new hock as old, and more willingly the base compound which passes for champagne, than either. Nay I could even suspect that he does not love those “three things which persons loving, love what they ought,—the whistling of the wind, the dashing of the waves, and the rolling of thunder:” and that he comes under the commination of this other triad, “let no one love such as dislike the scent of cloves, the taste of milk and the song of birds.” My Welsh friends shall have the pleasure of reading these true sayings, in their own ancient, venerable and rich language.
Tri dyn o garu tri pheth à garant à ddylaint; gorddyan y gwgnt, boran y tònau, ac angerdd y daran.
Tri pheth ma chared neb a 'u hanghara: rhogleu y meillion, blâs llaeth, a chân adar.