Oxford was becoming doubtful,
owing to all the bishoprics being given to the Low Church party--the
party of Lord Shaftesbury--Palmerston remembered his stately and
courteous bearing, and when the see of Gloucester fell vacant, gave
him that bishopric to silence Gladstone's supporters. This was a very
unexpected preferment at Oxford, but Thomson made such good use of his
opportunity that, when the Archbishopric of York became vacant, and
Palmerston found it difficult to make his own or Lord Shaftesbury's
nominee acceptable to the Queen, he suggested that any one of the
lately elected bishops approved of by the Crown might go to York, and
some one else fill the see thus vacated. It so happened that Thomson's
name was the first to be mentioned, and he was made Archbishop,
probably one of the youngest Archbishops England has ever known. He
certainly fulfilled all expectations and proved himself the people's
Archbishop, for he was himself the son of a small tradesman, a fact of
which he was never ashamed, though his enemies did not fail to cast it
in his teeth. I confess I felt at first a little awkward with my old
friend who formerly had discussed every possible religious and
philosophical problem quite freely with me, and was now His Grace the
Lord Archbishop, with a palace to inhabit and an income of about
L10,000 a year. However, though as a German and as a friend of Bunsen
I was looked upon as a kind of heretic, I never made the Archbishop
blush for his old friend, and I always found him the same to the end
of his life, kind, courteous, and ready to help, though it is but fair
to remember that an Archbishop of York is one of the first subjects of
the Queen, and cannot do or say everything that he might like to do or
to say. When I had to ask him to do something for a friend of mine,
who as a clergyman had given great offence by his very liberal
opinions, he did all he could do, though he might have incurred great
obloquy by so doing.

But when I think of these men, friends and acquaintances of mine, whom
I remember as young men, very able and hard working no doubt, yet not
so entirely different from others who through life remained unknown,
it is as if I had slept through a number of years and dreamt, and had
then suddenly awoke to a new life. Some of my friends, I am glad to
say, I always found the same, whether in ermine or in lawn sleeves;
others, however, I am sorry to say, had _become_ something, the old
boy in th