Coming out from the discourse preached in honour of the day, in high spirits and in the argumentative humour fostered by sermons, the “godly and virtuous imp” turned to his train.
“My Lords,” he demanded, “I pray you, what saint is St. George, that we here so honour him?”
The sudden attack was unexpected, and, the Lords of the Council being “astonied” by it, it was the Treasurer who made reply.
“If it please Your Majesty,” he said, “I did never read in any history of St. George, but only in Legenda Aurea, where it is thus set down, that St. George out with his sword and ran the dragon through with his spear.”
The King, when he could not a great while speak for laughing, at length said:
“I pray you, my Lord, and what did he do with his sword the while?”
“That I cannot tell Your Majesty,” said he.[104]
Poor little King! poor “godly imp”! It is seldom that his laughter rings out through the centuries. Perhaps some of the grave Councillors or divines present may have looked askance, considering that it was not with the weapon of ridicule that the patron saint of England should be most fitly attacked, but with the more legitimate one of theological criticism. But to us it is satisfactory to find that there were times when even the modern Josiah could not speak for laughing.