After years of such struggle, chased about between heaven and hell, Bunyan at last emerges into a saner atmosphere, even as Pilgrim came out of the horrible Valley of the Shadow.  Soon, led by his intense feelings, he becomes an open-air preacher, and crowds of laborers gather about him on the village green.  They listen in silence to his words; they end in groans and tears; scores of them amend their sinful lives.  For the Anglo-Saxon people are remarkable for this, that however deeply they are engaged in business or pleasure, they are still sensitive as barometers to any true spiritual influence, whether of priest or peasant; they recognize what Emerson calls the “accent of the Holy Ghost,” and in this recognition of spiritual leadership lies the secret of their democracy.  So this village tinker, with his strength and sincerity, is presently the acknowledged leader of an immense congregation, and his influence is felt throughout England.  It is a tribute to his power that, after the return of Charles II, Bunyan was the first to be prohibited from holding public meetings.

Concerning Bunyan’s imprisonment in Bedford jail, which followed his refusal to obey the law prohibiting religious meetings without the authority of the Established Church, there is a difference of opinion.  That the law was unjust goes without saying; but there was no religious persecution, as we understand the term.  Bunyan was allowed to worship when and how he pleased; he was simply forbidden to hold public meetings, which frequently became fierce denunciations of the Established Church and government.  His judges pleaded with Bunyan to conform with the law.  He refused, saying that when the Spirit was upon him he must go up and down the land, calling on men everywhere to repent.  In his refusal we see much heroism, a little obstinacy, and perhaps something of that desire for martyrdom which tempts every spiritual leader.  That his final sentence to indefinite imprisonment was a hard blow to Bunyan is beyond question.  He groaned aloud at the thought of his poor family, and especially at the thought of leaving his little blind daughter: 

I found myself a man encompassed with infirmities; the parting was like pulling the flesh from my bones....  Oh, the thoughts of the hardship I thought my poor blind one might go under would break my heart to pieces.  Poor child, thought I, what sorrow thou art like to have for thy portion in this world; thou must be beaten, must beg, suffer hunger, cold, nakedness, and a thousand calamities, though I cannot now endure that the wind should blow upon thee.[169]

And then, because he thinks always in parables and seeks out most curious texts of Scripture, he speaks of “the two milch kine that were to carry the ark of God into another country and leave their calves behind them.”  Poor cows, poor Bunyan!  Such is the mind of this extraordinary man.