ing; and, as Vasari expresses it, he consented to serve Pope
Paul only because he _could_ not do otherwise.

The same Pope Paul III. had in the meantime constructed a beautiful
chapel, which was called after his name the chapel _Paolina_, and
dedicated to St. Peter and St Paul. Michael Angelo was called upon to
design the decorations. He painted on one side the "Conversion of St.
Paul," and on the other the "Crucifixion of St. Peter," which were
completed in 1549. But these fine paintings--of which existing old
engravings give a better idea than the blackened and faded remains of
the original frescos--were from the first ill-disposed as to the
locality, and badly lighted, and at present they excite little
interest compared with the more famous works in the Sistine.

With the frescos in the Pauline Chapel ends Michael Angelo's career as
a painter. He had been appointed chief architect of St. Peter's, in
1547, by Paul III. He was then in his seventy-second year, and during
the remainder of his life, a period of sixteen years, we find him
wholly devoted to architecture. His vast and daring genius finding
ample scope in the completion of St. Peter's, he has left behind him
in his capacity of architect yet greater marvels than he has achieved
as painter and sculptor. Who that has seen the cupola of St. Peter's
soaring into the skies, but will think almost with awe of the
universal and majestic intellect of the man who reared it?

It appears, from the evidence of contemporary writers, that in the
last years of his life the acknowledged worth and genius of Michael
Angelo, his widespread fame, and his unblemished integrity, combined
with his venerable age and the haughtiness and reserve of his
deportment to invest him with a sort of princely dignity. It is
recorded that, when he waited on Pope Julius III., to receive his
commands, the pontiff rose on his approach, seated him, in spite of
his excuses, on his right hand, and while a crowd of cardinals,
prelates, and ambassadors, were standing round at humble distance,
carried on the conference as equal with equal. When the Grand Duke
Cosmo was in Rome, in 1560, he visited Michael Angelo, uncovered in
his presence, and stood with his hat in his hand while speaking to
him; but from the time when he made himself the tyrant of Florence he
never could persuade Michael Angelo to visit, even for a day, his
native city.

The arrogance imputed to Michael Angelo seems rather to have ar