fresh from the fountain--from the facts of the era in which
God had placed him.

He became early famous as a preacher at Cambridge, from the first, "a
seditious fellow," as a noble lord called him in later life, highly
troublesome to unjust persons in authority. "None, except the stiff-necked
and uncircumcised, ever went away from his preaching, it was said, without
being affected with high detestation of sin, and moved to all godliness and
virtue."[564] And, in his audacious simplicity, he addressed himself always
to his individual hearers, giving his words a personal application, and
often addressing men by name. This habit brought him first into difficulty
in 1525. He was preaching before the university, when the Bishop of Ely
came into the church, being curious to hear him. He paused till the bishop
was seated; and when he recommenced, he changed his subject, and drew an
ideal picture of a prelate as a prelate ought to be; the features of which,
though he did not say so, were strikingly unlike those of his auditor. The
bishop complained to Wolsey, who sent for Latimer, and inquired what he had
said. Latimer repeated the substance of his sermon; and other conversation
then followed, which showed Wolsey very clearly the nature of the person
with whom he was speaking. No eye saw more rapidly than the cardinal's the
difference between a true man and an impostor; and he replied to the Bishop
of Ely's accusations by granting the offender a licence to preach in any
church in England. "If the Bishop of Ely cannot abide such doctrine as you
have here repeated," he said, "you shall preach it to his beard, let him
say what he will."[565]

Thus fortified, Latimer pursued his way, careless of the university
authorities, and probably defiant of them. He was still orthodox in points
of theoretic belief. His mind was practical rather than speculative, and he
was slow in arriving at conclusions which had no immediate bearing upon
action. No charge could be fastened upon him, definitely criminal; and he
was too strong to be crushed by that compendious tyranny which treated as
an act of heresy the exposure of imposture or delinquency.

On Wolsey's fall, however, he would have certainly been silenced: if he had
fallen into the hands of Sir Thomas More, he would have perhaps been
prematurely sacrificed. But, fortunately, he found a fresh protector in the
king. Henry heard of him, sent for him, and, with instinctive recognition
of his