On Sunday Ernest went to church as a matter of course, and noted that the
ever receding tide of Evangelicalism had ebbed many a stage lower, even
during the few years of his absence. His father used to walk to the
church through the Rectory garden, and across a small intervening field.
He had been used to walk in a tall hat, his Master's gown, and wearing a
pair of Geneva bands. Ernest noticed that the bands were worn no longer,
and lo! greater marvel still, Theobald did not preach in his Master's
gown, but in a surplice. The whole character of the service was changed;
you could not say it was high even now, for high-church Theobald could
never under any circumstances become, but the old easy-going
slovenliness, if I may say so, was gone for ever. The orchestral
accompaniments to the hymns had disappeared while my hero was yet a boy,
but there had been no chanting for some years after the harmonium had
been introduced. While Ernest was at Cambridge, Charlotte and Christina
had prevailed on Theobald to allow the canticles to be sung; and sung
they were to old-fashioned double chants by Lord Mornington and Dr Dupuis
and others. Theobald did not like it, but he did it, or allowed it to be
done.
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