of the old Church of England, the church of their fathers and of the
older among themselves, with its larger indulgence for the instincts of
humanity, its wider comprehensiveness, and its more dignified and
decorous ritual.

The reaction from Puritanism pervaded all ranks. In no class, however,
was its influence more powerful than among the country gentry. Most of
them had been severe sufferers both in purse and person during the
Protectorate. Fines and sequestrations had fallen heavily upon them, and
they were eager to retaliate on their oppressors. Their turn had come;
can we wonder that they were eager to use it? As Mr. J. R. Green has
said: "The Puritan, the Presbyterian, the Commonwealthsman, all were at
their feet. . . Their whole policy appeared to be dictated by a
passionate spirit of reaction. . . The oppressors of the parson had been
the oppressors of the squire. The sequestrator who had driven the one
from his parsonage had driven the other from his manor-house. Both had
been branded with the same charge of malignity. Both had suffered
together, and the new Parliament was resolved that both should triumph
together."

The feeling thus eloquently expressed goes far to explain the harshness
which Bunyan experienced at the hands of the administrators of justice at
the crisis of his life at which we have now arrived. Those before whom
he was successively arraigned belonged to this very class, which, having
suffered most severely during the Puritan usurpation, was least likely to
show consideration to a leading teacher of the Puritan body. Nor were
reasons wanting to justify their severity. The circumstances of the
times were critical. The public mind was still in an excitable state,
agitated by the wild schemes of political and religious enthusiasts
plotting to destroy the whole existing framework both of Church and