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
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."
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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-
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