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 character, appointed him one of the royal chaplains.  He now left Cambridge and removed to Windsor, but only to treat his royal patron as freely as he had treated the Cambridge doctors—­not with any absence of respect, for he was most respectful, but with that highest respect which dares to speak unwelcome truth where the truth seems to be forgotten.  He was made chaplain in 1530—­during the new persecution, for which Henry was responsible by a more than tacit acquiescence.  Latimer, with no authority but his own conscience, and the strong certainty that he was on God’s side, threw himself between the spoilers and their prey, and wrote to the king, protesting against the injustice which was crushing the truest men in his dominions.  The letter is too long to insert; the close of it may show how a poor priest could dare to address the imperious Henry VIII.: