The greatest masterpiece of man is ... to be born at the right time. We append a saying of Montaigne's not found in Mr. St. John's collection: There is no so good man, who so squares all his thoughts and actions to the laws, that he is not faulty enough to deserve hanging ten times in his life. Montaigne was too intensely an egotist, in his character as man no less than in his character as writer, to have many personal relations that exhibit him in aspects engaging to our love. But one friendship of his is memorable--is even historic. The name of La Boetie is forever associated with the name of Montaigne. La Boetie is remarkable for being, as we suppose, absolutely the first voice raised in France against the idea of monarchy. His little treatise _Contr' Un_ (literally, "Against One"), or "Voluntary Servitude," is by many esteemed among the most important literary productions of modern times. Others, again, Mr. George Saintsbury, for example, consider it an absurdly overrated book. For our own part, we are inclined to give it conspicuous place in the history of free thought in France. La Boetie died young; and his _Contr' Un_ was published posthumously--first by the Protestants, after the terrible day of St. Bartholomew. Our readers may judge for themselves whether a pamphlet in which such passages as the following could occur must not have had an historic effect upon the inflammable sentiment of the French people. We take Mr. Bayle St. John's translation, bracketing a hint or two of correction suggested by comparison of the original French. The treatise of La Boetie is sometimes now printed with Montaigne's "Essays," in French editions of our author's works; La Boetie says: You sow your fruits [crops] that he [the king] may ravage them; you furnish and fill your houses that he may have something to steal; you bring up your daughters that he may slake his luxury; you bring up your sons that he may take them to be butchered in his wars, to be the ministers of his avarice, the executors of his vengeance; you disfigure your forms by labor [your own selves you inure to toil] that he may cocker himself in delight, and wallow in nasty and disgusting pleasure. Montaigne seems really to have loved this friend of his, whom he reckoned the greatest man in France. His account of La Boetie's death, Mr. St. John boldly, and not presumptuously, parallels with the "Phaedon" of Plato. Noble writing, it certainly is, though its stateliness is a shade too self-conscious, perhaps.