‘I think,’ said the Canon, ‘that the question is decided for us. Is it not, Mr. Conneally? “Render unto Caesar”--you remember the verse. Even if the Government were as unconstitutional as you appear to think, it would not be more so than the Roman Government of Judaea when these words were spoken.’ Hyacinth pondered this answer. It opened up to him an entirely new way of looking at the subject, and he could see that it might be necessary for a Christian to acquiesce without an attempt at resistance in any Government which happened to exist. He remembered other verses in the New Testament which could be quoted even more conclusively in favour of this passive obedience. Yet he felt that there must be a fallacy lurking somewhere. It was, on the face of it, an obvious absurdity to think that a man, because he happened to be a Christian, was therefore bound to submit to any form of tyranny or oppression. ‘Suppose,’ he said--‘I only say suppose--that a Government did immoral things, that it robbed or allowed evil-disposed people to rob, would it still be right to be loyal?’ ‘I think so,’ said the Canon quietly. Hyacinth looked at him in astonishment. ‘Do you mean to say that you yourself would be loyal under such circumstances?’ ‘I prefer not to discuss the question in that personal way, but the Church to which you and I belong is loyal still, although the Government has robbed us of our property and our position, and although it is now allowing our people to be robbed still further.’ ‘You mean by the Disestablishment and the Land Acts?’ ‘Yes. I think it is our great glory that our loyalty is imperishable, that it survives even such treatment as we have received and are receiving.’ ‘That is very beautiful,’ said Hyacinth slowly. ‘I see that there is a great nobility in such loyalty, although I do not even wish to share it myself. You see, I am an Irishman, and I want to see my country great and free.’ ‘I suppose,’ said the Canon, ‘that it is very natural that we should love the spot on earth in which we live. I think that I love Ireland too. But we must remember that our citizenship is in heaven, and it seems to me that any departure from the laws of the King of that country dishonours us, and even dishonours the earthly country which we call our own.’ Hyacinth said nothing. There flashed across him a recollection of Augusta Goold’s hope that some final insult would one day goad the Irish Protestants into disloyalty. Clearly, if Canon Beecher was to be regarded as a type, she had no conception of the religious spirit of the Church of Ireland. But was there anyone else like this clergyman? He did not know, but he guessed that his friends the Quinns would think of the matter in somewhat the same way. It seemed to him quite possible that in scattered and remote parishes this strangely unreasonable conception of Christianity might survive. After a pause the Canon went on: