confidence of many clients, and
eventually raised themselves to the bench. A piano is a treacherous
companion for the student who can touch, it deftly--dangerous as an idle
friend, whose wit is ever brilliant; fascinating as a beautiful woman,
whose smile is always fresh; deceptive as the drug which seems to
invigorate, whilst in reality it is stealing away the intellectual
powers. Every persevering worker knows how large a portion of his hard
work has been done 'against the grain,' and in spite of strong
inclinations to indolence--in hours when pleasant voices could have
seduced him from duty, and any plausible excuse for indulgence would
have been promptly accepted. In the piano these pleasant voices are
constantly present, and it can always show good reason--why reluctant
industry should relax its exertions.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE BATTLE OF THE ORGANS.

Sir Thomas More and Lord Bacon--the two most illustrious laymen who have
held the Great Seal of England--were notable musicians; and many
subsequent Keepers and Chancellors are scarcely less famous for love of
harmonious sounds than for judicial efficiency. Lord Keeper Guildford
was a musical amateur, and notwithstanding his low esteem of literature
condescended to write about melody. Lord Jeffreys was a good
after-dinner vocalist, and was esteemed a high authority on questions
concerning instrumental performance. Lord Camden was an operatic
composer; and Lord Thurlow studied thorough-bass, in order that he might
direct the musical exercises of his children.

In moments of depression More's favorite solace was the viol; and so
greatly did he value musical accomplishments in women, that he not only
instructed his first and girlish wife to play on various instruments,
but even prevailed on the sour Mistress Alice Middleton "to take lessons
on the lute, the cithara, the viol, the monochord, and the flute, which
she daily practised to him." But More's love of music was expressed
still more forcibly in the zeal with which he encouraged and took part
in the choral services of Chelsea Church. Throughout his residence at
Chelsea, Sir Thomas was a regular attendant at the church, and during
his tenure of the seals he not only delighted to chant the appointed
psalms, but used to don a white surplice, and take his place among the
choristers. Having invited the Duke of Norfolk to dine with him, the
Chancellor prepared himself for the enjoyment of that great peer's
socie