Apart from an export flour-trade and some manufactures of chocolate and Béarn linen, the inhabitants of Pau depend entirely on their four thousand winter-visitors. Place Royale (in the centre of which, instead of the older statue of Louis XIV., now stands Raggi’s statue of Henry IV., with bas-reliefs by Etex) is admired for the view which it affords over the valley of the Gave and the Pyrenees; it is connected by a fine boulevard with the castle gardens. Beyond the castle a park of thirty acres planted with beech trees stretches along the high bank of the Gave. The castle is bounded on the north and west by the Hédas, on the south by a canal drawn from the Gave, and on the east by a moat 30 feet deep; access is obtained by three bridges, that across the Hédas being of ancient construction. The castle is flanked by six square towers: south-east is that of Gaston Phaebus (113 feet high); north-east is the tower of Montauset or Montoiseau, so called because reached by removable ladders; east, the new tower; north-west, that of Billères; and on the west are those of Mazères. Another to the south is named after the mint in which Calvin used to preach.

In the gardens to the west of the castle stand a statue of Gaston Phaebus by Triquety and two porphyry vases presented by Bernadotte king of Sweden, who was born at Pau. In the castle court is a well 223 feet deep, with 100 feet of water; but it has been closed since 1855 On the ground-floor is the old hall of the estates of Béarn, 85 feet long and 36 feet wide, adorned with a white marble statue of Henry IV., and magnificent Flemish tapestries ordered by Francis I. Several of the upper chambers are adorned with Flemish, Brussels, or Gobelin tapestry, with tables in Swedish porphyry, Sèvres vases, fine coffers (notably a Gothic coffer from Jerusalem), arm-chairs of the 16 th century, Venetian and St Gobain glass, &c.; but the most interesting room is that in which Henry IV. was born, still containing his mother’s bed (from the castle of Richelieu) and his own cradle made of a tortoise-shell. In the keep is a library of 6000 volumes, mainly of works relating to Henry IV. The two Gothic churches of St Jacques and St Martin are both modern; but the latter is of note for the height and elegance of its tower, its stained glass, and the fine Pyrenean marbles used in the high altar, the baldachin, and the sanctuary. Besides the state Protestant church (Église Française Réformée) there are Presbyterian, Anglican, and Russian places of worship. The population of Pau (about 6000 at the close of the 18th century) was 27,300 in 1871, and 29,971 in 1881.

Pau derives its name from the “pale” (in Langue d’Oc “paü ”) or palisade surrounding the old castle mentioned in the fors of Ossau in 1221. By the erection (1363) of the present castle Gaston Phoebus made the town a place of importance, but the viscounts of Beam continued to reside at Orthez till the reign of Gaston XI., when the states of Béarn were united at Pau. Gaston’s grandson and successoι Francis Phoebus, became king of Navarre in 1479. Margaret of Valois, who married Henry d’Albret, embellished the castle and gardens, and made her court one of the most brilliant of the time. In the religious disturbances under her daughter, J eanne d’Albret, several Catholic nobles were put to death in the castle as rebels. In 1572, while a prisoner, Henry (afterwards IV. of France) restored the Catholic religion in Béarn, but the provincial estates met at Pau and rejected the decree, which Henry himself cancelled when he obtained his freedom. Pau continued to be the capital till 1620, though in 1614 the states of France demanded the union of Béarn and Basse Navarre with the French crown. When Louis XIII. entered the town in 1620 he restored the Catholic clergy to their privileges and possessions, disbanded the forces of Béarn, and caused the parliament of Pau to register the edict of union. The castle was occupied by Abd-el-Kader during part of his captivity.

“AUL, who is also (called) Paul,” was a “Hebrew ∣Γj of the Hebrews,” i.e., of pure Jewish descent unmixed with Gentile blood, of the tribe of Benjamin (Rom. xi. 1; 2 Cor. xi. 22; Phil. iii. 5). In the Acts of the Apostles it is stated that he was born at Tarsus in Cilicia (ix. 11, xxi. 39, xxii. 3); but in the 4th century there still lingered a tradition that his birthplace was Giscala, the last of the fortress-towns of Galilee which held out against Rome (Jerome, De vir. illustr. c. 5; Ad Philem. V. 23). The fact that he was called by two names has been accounted for in various ways. Saul (the Aramaic form, used only as a vocative, and in the narratives of his conversion, Acts ix. 4, 17, xxii. 7, 13, xxvi. 14; elsewhere the Hellenized form, ∑αvλos) was a natural name for a Benj amite to give to his son, in memory of the first of Jewish kings; Paul is more difficult of explanation. It is first found in the narrative of the conversion of Sergius Paulus, the proconsul of Cyprus (Acts xiii. 9), and it has sometimes been supposed either that Paul himself adopted the name in compliment to his first Gentile convert of distinction (Jerome, Olshausen, Meyer, Ewald), or that the writer of the Acts intended to imply that it was so adopted (Baur, Zeller, Hausrath). Others have thought that it was assumed by Paul himself after the beginning of his ministry, and that it is derived from the Latin paulus in the sense either of “least among the apostles” (St Augustine) or “little of stature” (Mangold, with reference to 2 Cor. x. 10; Gal. iv. 13). But these and many similar conjectures may probably be set aside in favour of the supposition that he had a double name from the first, one Aramaic or Hebrew and the other Latin or Greek, like Simon Peter, John Mark, Simeon Niger, Joseph Justus; this supposition is confirmed by the fact that Paul was not an uncommon name in Syria and the eastern parts of Asia Minor (instances will be found in the Index Nominum to Boeckh’s Corp. Inscr. Graecf). Whatever be its origin, Paul is the only name which he himself uses of himself, or which is used of him by others when once he had entered into the Roman world outside Palestine. The Acts speak of his having been a Roman citizen by birth (xxii. 28; cf. xvi. 17, xxiii. 27), a statement which also has given rise to several conjectures, because there is no clue to the ground upon which his claim to citizenship was based. Some modern writers question the fact, considering the statement to be part of the general colouring which the writer of the Acts is supposed to give to his narrative; and some also question the fact, which is generally considered to support it, of the appeal to the emperor. That he received part of his education at Tarsus, which was a great seat of learning, is a possible inference from his use of some of the technical terms which were current in the Greek schools of rhetoric and philosophy; but, since the cultivation of a correct grammatical and rhetorical style was one of the chief studies of those schools, Paul’s imperfect command of Greek syntax seems to show that this education did not go very far. That he received the main part of his education from J ewish sources is not only probable from the fact that his family were Pharisees, but certain from the whole tone and character of his writings. According to the Acts, his teacher was Gamaliel, who as the grandson of Hillel took a natural place as the head of the moderate school of Jewish theologians; nor, in spite of the objection that the fanaticism of the disciple was at variance with the moderation of the master, does the statement seem in itself improbable. A more important difficulty in the way of accepting the statement that Jerusalem was the place of his education is the fact that in that case his education must have been going on at the time of the preaching and death of Jesus Christ. That he had not seen Jesus Christ during His ministry seems to be clear, for a comparison of 1 Cor. ix. 1 with xv. 8 appears to limit his sight of Christ to that which he had at his conversion, and the “knowing Christ after the flesh” of 2 Cor. V. 16 is used not of personal acquaintance but of “carnal” as opposed to “spiritual” understanding; nor does the difficulty seem to be altogether adequately explained away by the hypothesis which some writers (e.g., Neander, Wieseler, Bey schlag) have adopted, that he was temporarily absent from Jerusalem at the times when Jesus Christ was there. Like all Jewish boys, he learnt a trade, that of tent-making; this was a natural employment for one of Cilician origin, since the hair of the Cilician goat was used to make a canvas {dlicia) which was specially adapted for the tents used by travellers on the great routes of commerce or by soldiers on their campaigns (cf. Philo, De anim. sacrif. idon., i. vol. ii. p. 238, ed. Mang.). Whether he was married or not is a question which has been disputed from very early times; his expressions in 1 Cor. vii. 8, ix. 5, were taken by Tertullian to imply that he was not, and by Clement of Alexandria and Origen to imply that he had once been, but that he had become a widower.

The beginning of his active life was doubtless like its maturity; it was charged with emotion. He himself gives a graphic sketch of its inner history. His conversion to Christianity was not the first great change that he had undergone. “I was alive without the law once” (Rom. vii. 9). He had lived in his youth a pure and guileless life. He had felt that which is at once the charm and the force of such a life, the unconsciousness of wrong. But, while his fellow-disciples in the rabbinical schools had been content to dissect the text of the sacred code with a minute anatomy, the vision of a law of God which transcended both text and comment had loomed upon him like a new revelation. And with the sense of law had come the sense of sin. It was like the first dawn of conscience. He awoke as from a dream. “The commandment came.” It was intended to be “unto life,” but he found it to be “unto death”; for it opened up to him infinite possibilities of sinning: “I had not known lust except the law had said, Thou shalt not lust.” And the possibilities of sinning became lures which drew him on to forbidden and hated ground: “sin, finding occasion through the commandment, beguiled me and through it slew me” (Rom. vii. 7-11). This was his inner life, and no man has ever analysed it with a more penetrating and graphic power. In his outward life this sense of the law of God became to him an overpowering stimulus. The stronger the consciousness of his personal failure the greater the impulse of his zeal. The vindication of the honour of God by persecuting heretics, which was an obligation upon all pious Jews, was for him a supreme duty. He became not only a persecutor but a leader among persecutors (Gal. i. 14). What he felt was a very frenzy of hate; he “breathed threatening and slaughter,” like the snorting of a war-horse before a battle, against the renegade Jews who believed in a false Messiah (Acts ix. 1, xxvi. 11). His enthusiasm had been known before the popular outbreak which led to Stephen’s death, for the -witnesses to the martyr’s stoning “laid down their clothes” at his feet (Acts vii. 58), and he took a prominent place in the persecution which followed. .He himself speaks of having “made havoc” of the community at Jerusalem, spoiling it like a captured city (Gal. i. 13, 23); in the more detailed account of the Acts he went from house to house to search out and drag forth to punishment the adherents of the new heresy (viii. 3). When his victims came before the Jewish courts he tried, probably by scourging, to force them to apostatize (xxvi. 11); in some cases he voted for their death (xxii. 4, xxvi. 10). The persecution spread from Jerusalem to Judaea and Galilee (ix. 31); but Paul, with the same spirit of enterprise which afterwards showed itself in his missionary journeys, was not content with the limits of Palestine. He sought and obtained from the ecclesiastical authorities at Jerusalem letters similar to those which, in the 13th century, the popes gave to the “militia Jesu Christi contra haereticos.” The ordinary jurisdiction of the synagogues was for the time set aside; the special commissioner was empowered to take as prisoners to Jerusalem any whom he found to belong to the sect known as “The Way” (Acts ix. 2, xxii. 4, xxiv. 14; it is possible that the phrase was used of Christians by themselves, like the phrase “The Cause” among some of the nonconforming churches of England). Of the great cities which lay near Palestine Damascus was the most promising, if not the only field for such a commission. At Antioch and at Alexandria, though the Jews, who were very numerous, enjoyed a large amount of independence and had their own governor, the Roman authorities would probably have interfered to prevent the extreme measures which Paul demanded. At Damascus, where also the Jews were numerous and possibly had their own civil governor (2 Cor. xi. 32), the Arabian prince Aretas (Haritha), who then held the city, might naturally be disposed to let an influential section of the population deal as they pleased with their refractory members.

On Paul’s way thither an event occurred which has proved to be of transcendent importance for the religious history of mankind. He became a Christian by what he believed to be the personal revelation of Jesus Christ. His own accounts of the event are brief, but they are at the same time emphatic and uniform. “It pleased God . . . to reveal His Son in me” (Gal. i. 16); “have I not seen Jesus Christ our Lord” (1 Cor. ix. 1); “last of all He was seen of me also as of one born out of due time” (1 Cor. XV. 8, where ωφθη κάμοι must be read in the sense of the parallel expressions ωφθη Kηφy, àc.; in other words, Paul puts the appearance to himself on a level with the appearances to the apostles after the resurrection). These accounts give no details of the circumstances. St Paul’s estimate of the importance of such details was probably different from that which has been attached to them in later times. The accounts in the Acts of the Apostles are more elaborate; they are three in number, one in the continuous narrative, ix. 3-19, a second in the address on the temple stairs, xxii. 6-21, a third in the speech to Agrippa, ∙xxvi. 12-18; they all differ from each other in details, they all agree in substance; the differences are fatal to the stricter theories of verbal inspiration, but they do not constitute a valid argument against the general truth of the narrative.

It is natural to find that the accounts of an event which lies so far outside the ordinary experience of men have been the object of much hostile criticism. The earliest denial of its reality is found in the Judaeo-Christian writings known as the Clementine Homilies, where Simon Magus, who is made to be a caricature of Paul, is told that visions and dreams may come from demons as well as from God (Clem. Hom., xvii. 13-19). The most important of later denials are those of the Tübingen school, which explain the narratives in the Acts either as a translation into the language of historical fact of the figurative expressions of the manifestation of Christ to the soul, and the consequent change from spiritual darkness to light (e.g., Baur, Paul, E.T., vol. i. p. 76; Zeller, Acts, E.T., vol. i. p. 289), or as an ecstatic vision (Holsten, Has Evangelium des Paulus, p. 65). But against all the difficulties and apparent incredibilities of the narratives there stand out the clear and indisputable facts that the persecutor was suddenly transformed into a believer, and that to his dying day he never ceased to believe and to preach that he had “seen Jesus Christ.”

Nor was it only that he had seen Him; the gospel which he preached, as well as the call to preach it, was due to this revelation. It had “pleased God to reveal His Son in him” that he “might preach Him among the Gentiles” (Gal. i. 12, 16). He had received the special mark of God’s favour, which consisted in his apostleship, that all nations might obey and believe the gospel (Rom. i. 5, cf. xii. 3, XV. 15, 16). He had been entrusted with a secret (μwτηpιov) which had “been kept in silence through times eternal,” but which it was now his special office to make known (Rom. xi. 25, xvi. 25, 26; and even more prominently in the later epistles, Eph. i. 9, iii. 2-9, vi. 19; Col. i. 26, 27, iv. 3). This secret was that “the Gentiles are fellow-heirs, and fellow-members of the body, and fellowpartakers of the promise in Christ Jesus through the gospel.” This is the key to all his subsequent history. He was the “apostle of the Gentiles,” and that “not from men, neither through man” (Gal. i. 1); and so thoroughly was the conviction of his special mission wrought into the fibres of his nature that it is difficult to give full credence to statements which appear to be at variance with it.

Of his life immediately after his conversion he himself gives a clear account: “I conferred not with flesh and blood, neither went I up to Jerusalem to them which were apostles before me; but I went away into Arabia” (Gal. i. 16, 17). The reason of his retirement, whether it was to the Haurán (Renan) or to the Sinaitic peninsula (Holsten), is not far to seek. A great mental no less than a great bodily convulsion naturally calls for a period of rest; and the consequences of his new position had to be drawn out and realized before he could properly enter upon the mission-work which lay before him. From Arabia he returned to Damascus (Gal. i. 17), and there began not only his preaching of the gospel but also the long series of “perils from his own countrymen,” which constitute so large a part of the circumstances of his subsequent history (Acts ix. 23-25; 2 Cor. xi. 32, 33).

It was not until “after three years,” though it is uncertain whether the reckoning begins from his conversion or from his return to Damascus, that he went up to Jerusalem; his purpose in going was to become acquainted with Peter, and he stayed with him fifteen days (Gal. i. 18). Of his life at Jerusalem on this occasion there appear to have been erroneous accounts current even in his own lifetime, for he adds the emphatic attestation, as of a witness on his oath, that the account which he gives is true (Gal. i. 20). The point on which he seems to lay emphasis is that, in pursuance of his policy not to “confer with flesh and blood,” he saw none of the apostles except Peter and James, and that even some years afterwards he was still unknown by face to the churches of Judaea which were in Christ.

From Jerusalem he went “into the regions of Syria and Cilicia,” preaching the gospel (Gal. i. 21, 23). How much that brief expression covers is uncertain; it may refer only to the first few months after his departure from Jerusalem, or it may be a summary of many travels, of which that which is commonly known as his “first missionary journey” is a type. The form of expression in Gal. ii. 1 makes it probable that he purposely leaves an interval between the events which immediately succeeded his conversion and the conference at Jerusalem. For this interval, assuming it to exist, or in any case for the detail of its history, we have to depend on the accounts in Acts xi. 20-30, xii. 25 to xiv. 28. These accounts possibly cover only a small part of the whole period, and they are so limited to Paul’s relations with Barnabas as to make it probable that they were derived from a lost “Acts of Barnabas.” This supposition would probably account for the fact that in them the conversion of the Gentiles is to a great extent in the background.

The chief features of these accounts are the formation of a new centre of Christian life at Antioch, and a journey which Paul, Barnabas, and for part of the way John Mark took through Cyprus and Asia Minor.

The first of these facts has a significance which has sometimes been overlooked for the history not only of Paul himself but of Christianity in general. It is that the mingling together, in that splendid capital of the civilized East, of Jews and Syrians on the one hand with Greeks and Romans on the other furnished the conditions which made a Gentile Christianity possible. The religion of Jesus Christ emerged from its obscurity into the full glare of contemporary life. Its adherents attracted enough attention to receive in the common talk and intercourse of men a distinctive name. They were treated, not as a Jewish sect, but as a political party. To the Greek equivalent for the Hebrew “Messiah,” which was probably considered to be not a title but a proper name, was added the termination which had been employed for the followers of Sulla, of Pompey, and of Caesar. It is improbable that this would have been the case unless the Christian community at Antioch had had a large Gentile element; and it is an even more certain and more important fact that in this first great mixed community the first and greatest of all the problems of early Christian communities had been solved, and that Jews and Gentiles lived a common life (Gal. ii. 12). What place Paul himself had in the formation of this community can only be conjectured. In the Acts he is less prominent than Barnabas; and, although it must be gathered from the Epistle to the Galatians that he took a leading part in the controversies which arose, still it is to be noted that he never elsewhere mentions Antioch in his epistles, and that he never visited it except casually in his travels. It may be supposed that from an early period he sought and found a wider field for his activity. The spirit of the Pharisees who “compassed sea and land to make one proselyte” was still strong within him. The zeal for God which had made him a persecutor had changed its direction but not its force. His conversion was but an overpowering call to a new sphere of work. It is consequently difficult to believe that he was content to take his place as merely one of a band of teachers elected by the community or appointed by the Twelve. The sense of a special mission never passed away from him. “Necessity was laid upon him” (1 Cor. ix. 16). Inferior to the Twelve in regard to the fact that he had once “persecuted the church of God,” he was “not a whit behind the very chiefest apostles” (2 Cor. xi. 5) in regard both to the reality and the privileges of his commission, and to the truth of what he preached (1 Cor. ix. 3-6; 2 Cor. iii. 1-6; Gal. i. 12). It is also difficult to believe that he went out with Barnabas simply as the delegate of the Antiochean community; whatever significance the laying on of hands may have had for him (Acts xiii. 3), it would be contrary to the tenor of all his writings to suppose that he regarded it as giving him his commission to preach the gospel.

The narrative of the incidents of the single journey which is recorded in detail, and which possibly did not occupy more than one summer, has given rise to much controversy. Its general credibility is supported by the probability that in the first instance Paul would follow an ordinary commercial route, on which Jewish missionaries as well as Jewish merchants had been his pioneers. For his letters to his Gentile converts all presuppose their acquaintance with the elements of Judaism. They do not prove monotheism, but assume it.

According to the narrative, Paul and his companions went...

From his father, who was an active revolutionary patriot, Paulding inherited strong anti-British sentiments, which colour much of his satire, but otherwise he was a just and genial critic, and a delicate and kindly humorist. Of a reserved disposition and hasty temper, with many prejudices, and of extreme political views, he was yet an eminently upright man; of an affectionate nature and a forgiving disposition; a hater of debt, lies, and shams; and an absolutely incorruptible official, who, in every relation of life, was inspired by a lofty, if sometimes mistaken, sense of honesty and honour. In literature he merits notice chiefly as a pioneer, and, though his place was never high, and will certainly not be permanent, he was among the first distinctively American as opposed to English writers, and protested more vigorously than any of his contemporaries against intellectual thraldom to the mother-country. As a prose writer he is chaste and elegant, with a fine negligence, which is sometimes the result of art, more frequently of haste; and, while not so elaborate as Irving, so diffuse as Cooper, or so frank as Neal, he is generally just, neat, fanciful, and realistically descriptive. Among his short stories perhaps the best are Dyspepsy and The Politician, among the long The Dutchman’s Fireside. As a poet he is gracefully commonplace,—a weak reflexion of Thomson, with a dash of the prairie and the backwoods. His longest and most ambitious poem is—or was, for it is now forgotten— The Baek-woodsman, which is ill-constructed and tedious, and the only lines of Paulding’s which survive in popular memory are the familiar—

“Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers; where is the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked ?” which may be found in Koningsmarke.

The following is a list of his writings :— The Diverting History of John Bull and Brother Jonathan (1812); The Lay of the Scottish Fiddle; a Tale of Havre de Grace, supposed to be written by Walter Scott Esq. (1813), a good-natured parody on The Lay of the Last Minstrel written with the special intention of ridiculing certain American follies and exposing the excesses of the British in the Chesapeake; The United States and England OS14); Letters from the South (1817); The Backwoodsman; a Poem (1818); Salmagundi, second series (1810-20); A Sketch of Old England, by a New England Man (1822); Koningsmarke, the Long Finne (1823), a quiz on the romantic school of Scott; John Bull in America; or the New Munchausen (1824), a broad caricature of the early type of British traveller in America; The Merry Tales of the Three Wise Men of Gotham (1820); The New Mirror for Travellers (1828); The Tales of the Good Woman, by a Doubtful Gentleman,—otherwise James K. Paulding (1829); Chronicles of the City of Gotham, from the papers of a retired Common Councilman (1830); The Lion of the West; a Comedy (1831); The Dutchman's Fireside (1831); Westward Ho.' (1832); A Life of Washington (1835), ably and gracefully written; Slavery in the United States (1836); The Book of Saint Nicholas, a series of stories of the old Dutch settlers (1837); A Gift from Fairyland (1838); The Old Continental; or the Price of Liberty (1846); American Comedies, the joint production of himself and his son William J. Paulding (1847); and The Puritan and his Daughter (1849). The same son also published a posthumous volume by his father, entitled A Book of Vagaries, which is included in an edition of Paulding’s Select Works (4 vols., 1867-68), and a most unsatisfactory biography, mostly made up of long extracts from Paulding’s writings, called Literary Life of James K. Paulding (1867).

Pauli’s later life was chiefly devoted to modern history, and the Geschichte Englands 1814-52, in 3 vols. (Leipsic, 1864-75) made his name widely known. He fulfilled his duties as a teacher and examiner and as a fellow of different learned societies with punctual accuracy; he became member of the academies of Göttingen, Munich, and Berlin, and honorary doctor of Oxford and Cambridge. He helped friends and pupils with untiring kindness; in his happy and social home he was often visited by distinguished English scholars. And he was for a whole generation a living link between the historical literature of England and Germany, “those two columns of the Teutonic world, which, for the benefit of human progress he firmly believed in, he fondly hoped would never be torn asunder.” When suddenly called away by a stroke of apoplexy on 3d June 1882, he was deeply lamented on both sides of the Channel.

Pauli’s History of England was remarkable for its research. Never before had the records, then piled up in the Tower without calendars or indexes, been used in so full a way; never before had the chronicles and memoirs been so thoroughly criticized. The short review of these original sources, given in the appendices, formed a guide to the mediaeval historiography of England, and was later on, when better editions appeared, supplemented by Pauli’s critiques contributed to German periodicals. The main narrative follows the king, but at the end of each reign the literary, religious, social, economical, and especially the commercial features of the period are cleverly grouped together. Though Pauli was no regular jurist, even the development of the constitutional side of his subject was then superior to the general standard. Indeed these parts, and these only, Pauli lived to see without jealousy superseded by Gneist and Stubbs, while in every other respect his work, then an immense advance upon Lingard, still remains the most solid of its kind. It has never been translated, perhaps on account of its almost annalistic form, and its contempt for the popular attractions of moralizing remarks, philosophical speculation, or picturesque style. To gain new facts, to show the way for further investigation, seemed to Pauli a worthier task than to amuse the public with a brilliant story. The history is remarkable for the completeness with which the author has used all reports, letters, and memoirs he could lay his hands upon. He was also allowed to inspect private papers of Cobden and of the Prussian ambassadors Bülow and Bunsen; and he knew something by personal recollection. Still he openly confessed that this contemporary history could be only preliminary, on account of the wide gaps in our knowledge of the secret policy, and because “he felt, in dealing with the flowing formless mass of living characters, as if he were touching hot lava that could not yet be shaped into constructive material.” Nevertheless the carefully-weighed judgment and the profound understanding of the manifold and tangled tendencies of modem strife are simply astonishing, if we consider that the author was a foreigner. Abroad no guide through the English history of the 19th century can rival this work, while the English reader will find at least the chapters on foreign policy to contain much that is new, and will be sure to admire the impartial views of a distant but lofty and noble observer. Pauli had learned to love the organic growth of the English constitution, and could not look without misgivings on the radical destruction of its aristocratic basis.

Besides a great many essays on the Middle Ages, of which only the popular ones have been collected in Bilder aus Alt-England (Gotha, 1860; 2d ed. 1876, translated 1861), and in Aufsätze zur Englischen Geschichte (Leipsic, 1869; Neue Folge, edited by Hartwig, Leipsic, 1883), Pauli published two monographs: “Grosseteste und Marsh,” in the Tübingen Program for 1864, and Simon νon Montfort (Tübingen, 1867). From a literary point of view these biographies are the best things Pauli wrote, and in them he was successful in creating figures of impressive character; but his general histories also usually centre round a hero, e.g., Canning and Peel in his history of England in our own times. Well versed in palaeography, Pauli discovered several important memorials, and never despised the humbler task of an editor; he edited Gower’s Confessio Amantis (1857), The Libell of Englishe Policye of 1436 (1878), and three tracts on political economy of the time of Henry VIII., Transactions of the Göttingen Society, 1878. For the Monumenta Germanise Historica he furnished a quantity of MS. collations, and extracted conjointly with Liebermann pieces of interest for Germany out of English historians before 1300 a,d., which appeared in part in vol. xiii. (1881), and in part will fill vol xxvii. For the Berlin Academy he selected and copied a mass of records relating to Germany, mainly of the 14th century, which did excellent service for the Hanseatic publications. For the Camden Society he had prepared the account book of the Prussian crusade of Henry Earl of Derby in 1392, which, it is hoped, will be edited by an eminent English historian. He contributed numberless reviews and detailed, often exhaustive, essays on minor subjects of English history to Sybel’s Historische Zeitschrift, Preussische Jahrbücher, Grenzboten, Rundschau, Im Neuen Reich, Forschungen zιιr Deutschen Geschichte, Archiv für ältere deutsche Geschichtskunde, Hansische Geschichtsblättsr, Zeitschrift für Kirchenrecht, Deutschs Litter aturzeitung, Göttingischs Nachrichten, Göttingischs Anzeigen. These articles possess in some respects a very high value as material for future scholars. Pauli’s last studies on Henry VIII. and the Hanoverian succession, based on the discovery of the papers of Robethon, the elector’s agent, are printed in the Aufsätze, Neue Folge.

Hartwig prefixed a sketch of Pauli’s life to the Aufsätze, Neue Folge, and Frensdoríf delivered a lecture upon him, printed in the Transactions of the Göttingen Society (1882).

The Paulicians are the subject of a monograph by F. Schmidt {Historia Paulicianonιm Orientalium, Copenhagen, 1826); and the Historia of Petrus Siculus, already referred to, has been edited (Göttingen, 1846) by Gieseler, whose “Untersuchungen über die Geschiente der Paulicianer,” in Stud. u. Krü. (1829), as well as the relative sections of his Church History, deserves special mention. See also vol. iii. of Neander’s Kirchenηeschichte.

The extant writings of Paulinus consist of some fifty Epistolae, addressed to Sulpicius Severus, Delphinus, Augustine, Jerome, and others; thirty-twc Carmina in a great variety of metre, including a series of hexameter “natales,’’begun about 393 and continued annually in honour of the festival of St Felix, metrical epistles to Ausonius and Gestidius, and paraphrases of three psalms; and a Passio S. Geηesii. They reveal to us a kindly and cheerful soul, well versed in the literary accomplishments of the period, but without any strength of intellectual grasp and peculiarly prone to superstition. The somewhat conspicuous place in church history occupied by Paulinus is chiefly due to the effect his great influence had in promoting the practice of pilgrimage, relic - hunting, and picture - worship, as well as the uncritical acceptance of every alleged miracle; to the intellectual development of Christianity he contributed nothing and it may well be questioned whether the manner in which he discharged the stewardship of his wealth was as judicious and beneficial as it certainly was generous.

His works were edited by Rosweyde and Fronton le Due in 1622 (Antwerp, 8vo), and their text was reprinted in the Bibi. max. pair. (1677). The next editor was Le Brun des Marettes (Paris, 1685, 2 vols. 4to), whose text was reproduced in substance by Muratori (Verona, 1736), and reprinted by Migne.