man constitutes one nature and one person, it follows that man, as man, is something different from either of the component elements of being. The body is not man, neither is the soul, but man is formed by the union of both, hence the nature of the two united is different from the nature of each taken separately. The body, by its nature, is destined to corruption; the human soul to a life eternal, for it is created after the image of God, all other things exhibit the imprint of the Trinity by their unity, form and order, but in the soul we have the image of God Himself.

The human soul is also, by its nature, immaterial spiritual and immortal and as such it cannot be otherwise than destined for a life that can never end. Now that a being may be immaterial it is necessary that it can exist independent of matter. Such beings are of two classes, namely; that being which has no property possessed by matter and which cannot be united with matter to form one compound substance. To this class belongs every pure spirit as the angels. Again immateriality is applied to that class of beings which, although it has no properties common to matter, nevertheless is fitted and ordained to union with the body and continues to exist and to act when this union ceases; such a being is the human soul. Hence we see that immateriality does not signify what is merely negative, but it expresses something positive and it denies that something to be material.

That the human soul is immaterial can be seen if we consider its powers and operations. Now the human soul has intellectual conceptions and operations of reason and judgment independent of material organs. This we cannot deny. Each one of us knows from experience that we perceive with the mind what our senses cannot reach. Daily we think of God, of justice and of virtue; we perceive the difference between good and evil, yet all these operations are performed without the aid of material organism, and since they are independent of matter, that is immaterial, the principle whence they flow must be also independent of matter in its actions, it follows then as a consequence that this principle must be independent of matter in its being also; for since the operations are independent of matter and the operations follow the being the principle is independent of matter in its being.

Again since we are capable of knowing what is entirely abstract, it follows that we must possess within ourselves a something whose power transcends the power of all material substance. For a body can act only as a body and its actions are physical, material, and the objects which such actions reach are also material, for no agent can naturally perform actions. the principle of which he does not possess.

Man's soul then is immaterial, and as such it is simple and spiritual, because immateriality includes both. Simplicity is opposed to composition. Hence the brute soul and every substantial formal principle are in themselves simple but not immaterial as is the human soul for they are not subsistent forms, i. e. they cannot exist separated from the matter with which they are joined. The brute son performs no actions but such as are sensible or organic and a sense or organ is material substance.

Spirituality demands that the human soul be a subsistent form; and that it is such, arises not from the fact that it is simple, but because it is immaterial and intelligent as well as simple. That it is immaterial I have just demonstrated; but in addition to this it po sesses a faculty capable of apprehending things which are immaterial and abstract, namely the intel'ective faculty and hence it is intelligent. Now since the abstract and universal ideas, which are formed by the intellect, a faculty possessed only by the human soul, are effects which transcends all material effects. They must be ascribed to actions the cause of which is wholly different from the material order of being. Man's will also, can love and desire only what is morally good and virtuous; it can love the absolutely true as beaut ful and good, but these operations have no identity with the actions of any power in material substance, and therefore they do not depend on any material substances. But since op rations follow being and as these operations are independent of matter the soul from which they flow must also be independent of matter; hence the soul cin, when separated from the body continue to have its being and to perform actions proper to itself, yet, by its nature it demands union with the body.

It is a lawful conclusion then that even natural reason furnishes us some proof of the body's resurrection. For in death the soul is separated from the body and the demand for union must be satisfied. Bit to say that the human soul perishes is repugnant to our nature. If true, it would blast every hope of man. Every path that leads to truth, to virtue, to a noble end would be abandoned, man would loose all seuse of rectitude. The earth resplendent with its vast and beauteous panorama, adorned with a canopy whose myriad bodies leud the effulgence of their enchanting rays, ever exalting, ever urging on to nobler deeds, would become a pendemonium, such as the imps themselves could not brook.

But instead of this general disorder we find man ever striving to become greater and better, firm in his belief that he posesses within himself a soul that can never die, he endures with patience and resignation the many trials which beset his path through life; nay, he oftentimes sacrifices even life itself that his joy in the life beyond the grave may be the more complete. Our own inward consciousness tells us that our soul is immortal, all nature has ever proclaimed it. The writings of Homer, Ovid, and Virgil testify

In

that such was the belief of ancient Greece and Rome. Cicero, too, believed in the soul's immortality. fact this belief has been so general that were we to study the history of even the most remote ages, we would seek in vain to find a single nation without some presentiment of a future state of existence.

But besides this concurrent opinion of men we find many reasons, which establish beyond doubt that the soul of man can never die. That it can by its nature continue to live throughout eternity, is made evident when we consider that it is a simple living substance that can exist independently of matter. Death is the separation of the living soul from a body informed by it. Only that substance then can die which consists of a body animated with a living principle. But as

man's soul is in itself a livin principle, and as it
exercises operations in which tter has no part it is
not subject to corruption, fojorruption supposes the
dissolution of parts, and her can never die. More-
over the human soul being spiritual substance can-
not possess within itself ar principle of corruption
nor can it be destroyed by ny external cause. But,
you may say, God is omnitent and to affirm that He
has brought the soul fro nothingness into being,
has not the power to diroy it would be absurd.
That God posesses the poer to annihilate the soul, if
He so wishes, we do noteny. Yet there are many
reasons on account of wich He will not.
Now as
long as the soul can awer the purpose of its ex-
istence, God can have n reason to destroy it. This
purpose the soul can ev accomplish by showing forth
the justice, the power, he goodness, and wisdom of
God and thus contribues to his greater glory the
cause for which it wasreated.

Again, when we viv the life of man, we are forced
to admit the existenc of future state of life. We see
many receive the reard of this life unmerited; while
the virtuous are allwed to pass unrecompensed and
are often scorned and ridiculed. The wicked are
suffered to go unanished, while the innocent are
forced to endure te greatest afflictions. Man's due
reward or punishmat for deeds done must therefor
pertain to a futurstate of existence.

Never yet was tere a man who did not desire un-
ending happiness He must then by his nature be
fitted and ordaind for a state of perpetual beatitude
and such being is nature his soul must ever live else
God has created nan without an appointed ultimate
destiny proportinate to his nature.

But as God isall perfect he can do nothing in vain,
the soul is therdestined to eternal life.

In this life an can find nothing to satisfy the
greatness and ignity which his nature demands. He
may possess the wealth of a Croesus, or the power of
a Nero; he may be rich in knowledge and renowned
for his glorias achievements; he may be honored,
flattered, ind lged, yet his desire for something last-
ing, more exalted becomes stronger and more in-
satiatable.

Such then being the nature of the human soul, we
can have sone ideas how precious that soul must be
to God. H has created it for man, and in the belief
that it can never die man has been guided to deeds of
love and sef-sacrifice.

Take, if you will, from this wonderful creation the
soul, that grand, that noble, that precious work of
God; blot out forever every idea of a future state of
existence and to what an abyss of baseness, of misery
and woe will not man be reduced. He would no
longer be guided by the divine light of faith, but
heedless and undaunted, he would dash on through
life whitherosever his baser nature might lead him.
Religion which so often confronts us in our moments
of despair would be supplanted by the profane
worship of the ancient pagans, enthroned in all the
power of the world, a sight such as the lustful eye of
man loves to gaze upon supported by the wealth
and magnificence of nations, it would proclaim to a

people drinking deep from the cup of iniquity words
inciting to darker deeds, "Let us eat and drink for to-
morrow we die," forgetful to add

"And after death judgment."

-W. D. N.

Shakespeare's Fidelity to History.
Dramatic poetry is like history made visible, and is an
image of actions past as though they were present.
-Lord Bacon.

UCH is the great philosopher's conception of
dramatic poetry. He defined it, Shakespeare
created it. With all his innate genius the
Avonian bard infused such vivacity into his
dramas as has never been excelled, not even by the
ancient Eschylus. Nature lent its harmony, and
history its truth. Both are potent factors in ennobl-
ing a nation's literature. The one yields its realistic
beauty, the other lends solidity to the graces of
diction. Each in itself affords ample scope for the
highest literary flight, yet when both are moulded
into one harmonious whole by the master-hand of
Shakespeare, the results vie with, and indeed surpass,
the achievements of both ancient and modern genius.
He it was, who descended into the depths of things;
he it was, who disclosed the secrets of mankind. He
did not soar in regions etherial aiming at the faultless
like the Greeks, but he simply aimed at reality. Never
was human life so vividly portrayed; every phase,
high or low, successful or unsuccessful, happy or un-
happy, found expression. Him Nature blessed with a
genial mind and soul, and this blessing so fructified
that the halo of immortality- still encircles his name.
in the world of letters.

Many writers of fame lent their best efforts to cor-
rectly interpret the Swan of Avon. Some have
treated extensively of his mind and art, his character-
istics; others have critically examined his characters,
both male and female, as found in every walk of life;
but few have ever delved into the historic fidelity of
his plays. This field, however, is not entirely unex-
plored. Many have touched upon the subject, but,
as far as we can learn, no one has ever made an ex-
haustive study of the fidelity to history of his historicrl
and semi-historical plays. All honor is due, however,
to Warner, Courtnay and Boswell-Stone for their
critically learned expositions of the English historical
plays.

It has been truly said that the people of England
learned more of the history of their country from
Shakespeare than from any other source. His keen
penetration, his distinct outlines, his marvelous ad-
hesion to history, not only immortalized the poet him-
self, but also those historical characters which his
mighty pen so actualized as to perpetuate them unto
all ages.
No doubt many a beautiful attribute of a
King Henry V. or VI. would have been lost to po-
terity, had not he rescued them from partial oblivion;
nor may it be justly denied that the picture of many
a hidious and despicable character is indelibly im-
pressed on the mind of him who thoughtfully studies
King John or Richard III. True, Shakespeare held

the "mirror up to Nature," and painted characters
who actually walked the thorny path of life, who
have either made of their lives a glorious success or a
most deplorable failure. To show the degree of false,
imperfect or faithful reflection of this mirror when
held up to actual historic facts shall become our task.
"It is a theme as fluent as the sea," a theme which,
to do it justice, would require volumes. But since
our essay must be of moderate length, we shall limit
ourselves to the English historical plays And these
we would clasify as dramas extolling either royal
weakness or royal strength. Schlegel has termed
them the "mirror of kings;" and in this opinion he
is indeed upheld by the whole world: King John is
the base, unscrupluous, weak-minded, regal criminal;
Henry VI. the kind, unsuspecting, almost saintly
monarch; Richard III., the high-handed, dishonored,
disloyal, but valorous villain; while Henry V. is the
bard's ideal king: he is stern, yet warm at heart;
prudent and christianlike; valiant, such as a king
ought to be. In him is centered every kingly attri-
bute. No wonder we speak his name with such
reverential awe.

We do not intend to present a minute examination
of each historical play, but will touch upon the most
salient points of the types of royalty, or royal vigor.
In the plays falling under this treatise we will endea-
vor to show, first, how Sheakespeare delineated the
kings themselves; secondly, how faithfully he adhered
to history in this delineation; thirdly, probably, his
treatment of one or two minor characters; fourthly,
point out a few more or less remarkably striking in-
stances of historical fidelity or deviation in the dramas
of which we treat.

Considering King John, whose reign marked one
of the greatest events in history, we find that the
poet's genial pen has painted a base, profligate, weak-
minded mortal; cowardly in all his actions; his
mother Elinor dominating to a great extent his feeble
mind. His conscience is unrestrained, his temper
perfidious, his soul fickle and feeble, uncouth, cruel
and pittiless. All these qualities combine in awaken-
ing a feeling of disgust. However, we do not forget
that in the beginning of the drama the poet hardly
infuses such a spirit; but he finds his king on a
rather stable throne, which is rapidly undergoing a
change for the worst. His character is a black spec-
trum in the pages of English history, and such a
spirit has the dramatist infused into his play. His
reign, however, proved the chief highway to the
liberties of the people of England in curbing the un-
restrained power of the king.

To the title of king he seemed unworthy; the regal
crown was too noble for his brow; his conscience was
too callous for a monarch. He appears out of his
sphere and is charged by King Philip that he "had
done a rape upon the maiden virtues of the crown."
Proceeding he asks:

"How comes it then, that thou art called a king,
When living blood doth in these temples (Arthur's) beat,
Which owe the crown that thou o'ermasterest?"
-Act II., Scene 1.

True. his right did not consist in might as that of
Henry IV., nor in heritage as that of Henry VI.; and

when he speaks of 'r strong possessions and our
right," he but endeaved to veil his deception. But
his mother Elinor, scious of his self-deceit, dis-
closes with courage andirectness the real fact:

"Your strong possessio, much more than your right,
Or else it must go wronwith you and me."

Act I., Scene 2.
Historians have only corded his vices, and the
bard of Avon dramatized em. Not to say, however,
that he had recourse to tl chronicles, for it is a con-
ceded fact, that he did pt consult this source so
seriously as in other play
seriously as in other play Honesty and plighted
faith were not in accordan with the king's nature:
contracts were broken, andaith abused, whenever it
served his purpose. The irocence of Prince Arthur
proved no safeguard againshis life. And when the
deed was done, he, suddenlyvercome by the heinous-
ness of its cruelty, railing atHubert, exclaimed:
"Had'st thou but shook thy hd or made a pause,
When I spoke darkly what Iroposed,

Or turn'd an eye of doubt up my faith,
Deep shame had struck me dub, made me break off.”
Act IV., Scene 2.
Ah! the pangs of conscience ade him realize the
enormity of that wicked death or which "the earth
had not a hole to hide this dead. No wonder :
"Hostility and civil tumult regns

Between my conscience andny cousin's death."
Act IV., Scene 2.
Note the voice of God speaking fom his soul, a voice
which here strongly argues consiousness of guilt.
But why should he now repent vhat, before he so
eagerly desired? We do not thin it was so much
the blackness of the deed as the murmurs of his
nobles and people. It served his interest to have the
prince living, because his very thone was now at
stake. But why am I speaking th? Shakespeare
causes the Prince to shorten his wn life; while
historians differ regarding the mannr of his death.
Yet his disappearance was affected clandestinely, and
Lingard remarks: "If the manne of his death
could have borne investigation, John for his own
honor would have made it public. Hs silence proves
that the young Prince was murdered."

King John's characteristics as presented by Shakes-
peare differ but slightly from those of he historians.
The very name brings with it a sort d unavoidable
horror. Some historians have indeed considered him
without parallel in history for his intermugled cruelty
and licentiousness; but their judgment m doubt went
to extremes and their conclusions oftentines bordered
on the improbable. It is our opinion that the
character, though dark and hidious, scarcely deviates
from that of the most reliable historians. Still the
dramatist has presented him in a somewhat more
agreeable light, owing to his unbounded insight into

real human nature.

The noble presentation of Constance ought not to
be passed over without a few comments. In her we
behold a feerless, loving, friendly, but helpless mother
of a wronged Prince. Having gained the assistance
of France she most humanely entreats Philip to defer
action until her messengers "bring from England that
right in peace which she here urged in war." But

"O! that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth!
Then with a passion would I shake the world.

-Act III., Scene 4.
Is it possible for a mother to be otherwise? First she
obtains assistance from a powerful monarch to right
her wrong, which is shortly afterwards perfidiously
withdrawn. All fond expectations of her son's future
glory rested in the hands of Philip, who at the very
crisis abandoned her most shamefully. O! what sad-
ness! what grief! what dispair! must have filled her
heart when she exclaimed:

"Law cannot give my child his kingdom;

For he that holds his kingdom holds the law."
-Act III, Scene 1.
She is indeed deserving of pity; and is the embodi-
ment of hundreds of actually similar cases which
have repeatedly occured in the strife of centuries.
Deserted and betrayed as she seems, we cannot but
admire the moral dignity of her character. All her
heroic efforts, all her unfaltering spirit tended to
secure the recognition of the rights of her son. But
lo! what a miserable failure!

Though chroniclers have left but scanty records of
her reign in Brittany, dispersing only periodically the
dim mist surrounding her womanly nobleness, yet the
historian Marshall warrants her contentment while
reigning in that country. We have noticed above
that the poet speaks of her as being a widow-a
widow cries;" while the same historian speaks of her
"faithful husband Guy De Thonars," as well as of her
forced marriage to the Earl of Chester. Here we
have an intentional deviation from history. Probably
to elevate her character and demonstrate the perfidy
of the opponents in her sorrowful struggle for right-
eousness. Whatever the poet's aim might have been,
he has succeeded in showing the failure of her life.

Viewing the play as a whole we learn that the most
eloquent bard that ever summed up the virtues of a
Brutus or the haughtiness of a Coriolanus, has in-
fused into it the spirit of the times. The chronologi-
cal sequence, however, swings back and forth within
a period of seventeen years. The entrance of Peter
of Pomfret in Act IV., scene 2, brings its historic
date to 1212, and when Hubert in the same scene
speaks of the five moons we retrograde twelve years.
Says Holinshed: "About the month of December
(1200) there were seen in the Province of York five
moons, etc." Act V. opens with the vigil of Ascen-
sion Day, making historic date May 22, 1213; now
when Pandulf departs "to make the French lay down
their arms," we are brought face to face with events
happening fully three years later, while subsequent to
this point of time we are introduced to the battle of
Bouvines occurring July 27, 1214.

Many more instances may be cited to illustrate our
assertion, but as the Zeit-geist is preserved, we will
only call attention to one important omission. Any
one familiar with English history will recall that King
John's reign is especially noteworthy for having
witnessed the grant of Magna Charta, "the palladium
of English liberty." Why Shakespeare did not utilize
this important instrument is a mystery which has
baffled the critics of all times. Some critics, however,
see its effect in the whole play; still the dramatist has
not made the most remote allusion to it. In fact the
discontent and uprisings of the nobles seem to be
caused by Arthur's death, who at that time was dead
twelve years. To our mind it appears that the poet
has brought the young Prince into greater prominence
than he deserved, and in order to sustain the sympathy
of the readers, and to keep his person prominently
before their minds, he caused the insurrection to be
the due outcome of the Prince's death. Had he
introduced the Magna Charta, the play itself would
have taken a different aspect, and at the same time
the Prince and his unfortunate mother could not have
played such a conspicuous part.

The great spirit of the play is England's aspiration
to a place among nations. The spirit so instrumental
in her present greatness, is expressed in these words:
"This England never did, nor never shall
Lie at the proud foot of a conquerer.
Naught shall make us rue,

If England to itself be true.

-Act V., Scene 7.

Richard II. also has solicited no inconsiderable
praise upon the stage. This drama has the good
name of being the most accurate of the chronicle
plays. The king himself, a graceful monarch, tasted
of the sweets of good fortune, and he felt too the
pangs of adversity. His reign is especially character-
ized by rebellions, and owing to the lack of proper
remedies he was finally forced to yield his crown. He
did not possess the many-sided activity of Henry IV.,
who would not dare to leave his realm while traitors
buzzed about his ears. Among the most noteworthy
deviations from history may be mentioned Richard's
own abdication of the crown; also placing it person-
ally on Bolingbroke's head. Lingard and Marshall
acknowledge no voluntary abdication, nor do they
warrant the truth of the latter act. The poet's
reason for this extreme humiliation of the king is un-
doubtedly to excite a more lasting and lamentable
pity of his great misfortune, whose

"glory like a shooting star

Fell to the base earth from the firmament."

Passing on to Henry VI., we find him in most re-
spects the exact opposite of King John. His charac-
ter as shown in Part I., leans strongly towards humane
principles. On several occasions the king speaks of
his extreme youth, even when he had reached the age
of twenty-three, he specified by his own words:

"My tender age was never yet attaint
With any passion of inflaming love."
that even at an age when manly vigor and activity
are most apparent, he had not yet realized his man-
hood.

(Continued.)

W

GREETING.

ITH the assurance that all customs of the past
will be preserved, with the desire to encourage
literary work among our students, with the
hope that the spirit of "Old Niagara" be cherished by
all, both old and future Alumni, with sincere thanks.

to kind supporters, with a hearty greeting and kind-
liest fellowship to all, the INDEX begins a new schol-
astic year.

For the collegians, the INDEX has only words of
encouragement. The students of last year deserve
great praise for the industry manifested in contribut-
ing so many able articles and they have undoubtedly
established a record for themselves, to surpass which
the students of '99 and '00, must put forward their
best efforts. That they will accomplish this, we have
no doubt and the editors expect to see their desks
soon filled with first-class matter. Again a healthy
rivalry and lively competition among the members of
the different classes will, we are sure, be productive of
great activity in the literary circles of the college. To
endeavor to perfect onesself in knowledge should be
the laudable ambition of every student. To reward a
student for his hard work and patient study, his com-
position appears in the journal of his Alma Mater.
This is and should be considered the highest praise
accorded a student. The editors in their turn, will
contribute their earnest attention and kindest con-
sideration to all matter presented for publication. In

all matters of interest and import occurring in the
college, the boys may expect to find in the INDEX, a
warm sympathizer and champion. The reports of all
literary societies and other organizations will be kindly
received and published.

The INDEX also extends a cordial invitation to the
seminarians to contribute. We know of many able
pens among them and naturally infer that many
learned articles will find their way from their depart-
ment to our office. This paper has always been their
staunch friend, tried on many occasions and has never
been found wanting. Almost all our exchanges are
at their command. Surely the INDEX is worthy of
their support and encouragement.

The columns of the INDEX, the representative
organ of the University, are open to any and all de-
partments, at any and all times. Congratulations
are in order for the good beginning in all departments
and bright prospects everywhere manifest for the
most successful year in the history of Niagara.

A NEW STAFF.

IS WAS announced in the last commencement

As issue, a new staff will have charge of the desti-

nies of the of the INDEX this year. The new
staff is composed of the following gentlemen: Messrs.
D. J. Ryan, W. D. Noonan, James E. Kelly and J.
F. McGinn. They are all highly esteemed gentle-
men, well able to act in the capacity of scribes, and
deserve the consideration and encouragement due their

position. In taking charge of this paper a proper

appreciation is had for the honor the role of a college
editor carries with it, and also the grave responsibili-
ties and duties entailed. The cooperation and en-
couragement of all are most respectfully solicited.

A FORMER scribe.

ELICITATIONS are in order for Mr. John E.

Fitzgerald of last year's staff. In the early

part of vacation he was notified of an appoint-
ment to a scholarship at the Catholic University of
America, Washington, D. C. Accompanying the
notice of this appointment came a call to major
orders and the priesthood. He returned shortly after
the opening of the Seminary to make a preparatory
retreat. He left on the morning of the 16th ult. for
Albany where on the following day he received sub-
deaconship. Tuesday following he received deacon-
ship, and priesthood on the following Sunday. The
orders were conferred by his ordinary, the Rt. Rev.
T. M. A. Burke, D.D., at the Immaculate Conception
Cathedral.

His studies at Washington will be of a post-gradu-