From whatever point of view the story of his life is regarded, it
presents itself as a tragedy. The believing Catholic sees there the ruin
of a vocation to such a work as only a few souls in the history of the
Church are called to accomplish--a ruin desperate and deplorable in
proportion to the force of the talents and energies diverted from the
right path. The non-Catholic or unbeliever cannot fail to be moved by
contemplating the fruitless struggles of a mind so keen, a heart so
enthusiastic in the cause of light and liberty--struggles ending in
failure, perplexity, confusion, and misery. But while we allow a large
element of mystery in his character which will never be eliminated, yet
as we return time after time to gaze upon the picture of his life, as a
whole, and in its details, the seemingly discordant items begin quietly
to drop into their places one after another, and to exhibit unnoticed
connections; and the idea of his distinctive personality begins to shape
itself into a coherent unity.

It is not our purpose here to summarize Mr. Gibson's admirable work, or
to give even an outline of so well-known a history; but rather to
attempt some brief criticism of the man himself, and incidentally of his
views.

Temperament and early education are among the principal determinants of
character; and certainly when we contrast Féli with his brother Jean,
who presumably received the same home-training, we see how largely he
was the creature of temperament. Jean was by nature the "good boy,"
tractable and docile; Féli, the unmanageable, the lawless, the violent.
While Jean was dutifully learning his lessons to order, Féli, the
obstreperous, imprisoned in the library, was feeding his tender mind
with Diderot, Montaigne, Pascal, Voltaire, Rousseau, and similar diet,