Frederick was very fond of disputation; but as he generally terminated the discussion by collaring his antagonist and kicking his shins, few of his guests were disposed to enter the arena against him.  One day, when he was particularly disposed for an argument, he asked one of his suite why he did not venture to give his opinion on a particular question.  “It is impossible, your majesty,” was the reply, “to express an opinion before a sovereign who has such very strong convictions, and who wears such very thick boots.”

Desertion.—­Frederick, in surveying one evening some of the advanced posts of his camp, discovered a soldier endeavouring to pass the sentinel.  His majesty stopped him, and insisted on knowing where he was going.  “To tell you the truth,” answered the soldier, “your majesty has been so worsted in all your attempts, that I was going to desert.”  “Were you?” answered the monarch.  “Remain here but one week longer, and if fortune does not mend in that time, I’ll desert with you too.”

Louis XIV., playing at backgammon, had a doubtful throw; a dispute arose, and all the courtiers remained silent.  The Count de Grammont came in at that instant.  “Decide the matter,” said the king to him.  “Sire,” said the count, “your Majesty is in the wrong.”—­“How so,” replied the king; “can you decide without knowing the question?”—­“Yes,” said the count, “because, had the matter been doubtful, all these gentlemen present would have given it for your majesty.”

Louis was told that Lord Stair was the best bred man in Europe.  “I shall soon put that to the test,” said the king, and asking Lord Stair to take an airing with him, as soon as the door of the coach was opened he bade him pass and go in, the other bowed and obeyed.  The king said, “The world was right in the character it gave of Lord Stair—­another person would have troubled me with ceremony.”

While the Eddystone light-house was erecting, a French privateer took the men upon the rock, together with their tools, and carried them to France; and the captain was in expectation of a reward for the achievement.  While the captives lay in prison, the transaction reached the ears of Louis XIV., when he immediately ordered them to be released, and the captors put in their places, declaring, that “Though he was at war with England, he was not so with all mankind.”  He directed the men to be sent back to their work, with presents—­observing, “That the Eddystone light-house was so situated as to be of equal service to all nations having occasion to navigate the channel between England and France.”

Charles II. was reputed a great connoisseur in naval architecture.  Being once at Chatham, to view a ship just finished on the stocks, he asked the famous Killigrew, “If he did not think he should make an excellent shipwright?” He replied, “That he always thought his majesty would have done better at any trade than his own.”  No favourable compliment, but as true a one, perhaps, as ever was paid.