# Rich beggar (Michelangelo Buonarroti)

Eduard Dolgunov

The last hours of the life of the great sculptor and titan of the Renaissance. Surrounded by disciples and chests of gold, Michelangelo reflects on loneliness, service to art, and the true price of earthly glory.

The Wealthy Beggar

Oh, in this criminal and shameful age,

Not to live, not to feel is an enviable fate.

It is joyful to sleep — joyful to be a stone.

Michelangelo Buonarroti.

— My friends, — Michelangelo's voice was weak, — I am departing to a better world, and it is inevitable. I have gathered you, the people closest to me, — he looked at his friend and student Daniele da Volterra, then at Diomede Leoni standing by the window, then shifted his gaze to Tommaso dei Cavalieri, with whom he shared a close relationship, to Basso Rontini, a famous doctor and friend, and to his faithful servant Urbino, who had selflessly served his master for many years.

— As you can see, I did not call a priest, but there are reasons for this, since what I will tell you is not meant for his spiritual rank. I have carried this through my entire long life, and now, before I leave this world, I need to unburden my soul. Seat me in the armchair, — Michelangelo asked, — it is hard for me to speak lying down. Having caught his breath, he continued.

— I was 15 years old, and at that time I was learning the basics of the profession in the workshop belonging to Lorenzo de' Medici. I was arrogant and often rude to others, and one day, during a drawing lesson, I had a conflict with another student of the school, my friend Pietro Torrigiano, who was older and stronger than me. During the fight, he hit me hard on the nose, I fell to the floor and hit my head on a stone. From the blow, my vision darkened, and when I came to, I saw a gentleman in a black cloak leaning over me.

— I am glad that you woke up, signor artist, — he said, and shaking his head, added, — the blow was very strong and, unfortunately, your opponent broke your nose, and you will have to accept this.

— How do you know, — touching his nose, Michelangelo groaned, — are you a doctor?

— No, no, — the stranger smiled, — I am not a doctor, but I understand this well. However, to the point, — he sat in a chair that appeared from nowhere, and said, — Signor Michelangelo! You are still very young, and a long and extremely eventful life awaits you. You belong to the people whom the Lord has endowed with immense talent, and you are destined to become a great sculptor, painter, architect, poet. You will create masterpieces that contemporaries and subsequent generations will admire, but at the same time, you will become a slave to your genius. You will work very hard, create, build, but you will never experience the simple human joys of a family, children, and just peace. The Lord has endowed you with a multifaceted talent, and my mission is to preserve it, not to let it be wasted on trifles, so I will always be near, — with a wave of his cloak, he disappeared.

— Buonarroti, — the teacher patted the boy's cheeks, — wake up, what is the matter with you?

— Where is he?

— Michelangelo sat up and looked around, — where is this man in black?

— What man in black, there is no one here. When you fell, you hit your head hard against a stone and lost consciousness, — the teacher sighed, — and in delirium, what doesn't one see, it happens. Go home and lie down, you need to rest. And Pietro ran away and is unlikely to return, so you have nothing to fear. Michelangelo worked a lot. A whole constellation of sculptures had already been created: "Head of a Faun", "Young Archer", "Angel", "Saint Petronius", "Roman Pietà" and many others. Buonarroti was already quite a well-known master in Florence, when suddenly, at the end of the summer of 1501, he was unexpectedly summoned to the Board of Trustees for the construction of the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore, where he was informed of the board's decision to sign a contract with him for the creation of the sculpture "David". Michelangelo knew the prehistory of this order. In 1463, the Board of Trustees signed a contract for the creation of the sculpture of David with the Florentine sculptor Agostino di Duccio, for which a huge block of marble was delivered from the Carrara quarry. Agostino began the work, but in 1466 he stopped it, having barely started to shape the figure's legs. In 1467, the work was continued by another sculptor, Antonio Rossellino, but soon the contract with him was also terminated, and the abandoned marble block remained lying in the courtyard of the cathedral workshop, exposed to precipitation for 40 years. Leonardo da Vinci refused the order offered to him to sculpt David from (in his words): "a spoiled block of marble, poorly marked and hewn," and suggested approaching the 26-year-old Michelangelo. Without any hope of success, the Trustees of the cathedral invited the young sculptor and showed him the stone, from which "there is no use anyway." The artist walked around the marble, stroked it, carefully examined it from all sides, put his ear to it and, turning to his escorts, said: "I accept the order and will take on this work," — after which he left the courtyard.

— I heard the MARBLE say to me: "You will be able to make a sculpture of David out of me, and it will glorify you for all ages!" Do you understand, — the old Master rose slightly from the chair with difficulty and looked at the people in the room with teary eyes, — the stone was talking to me. It asked to be worked on and not abandoned in that courtyard! Do you understand?

— he repeated. Dr. Basso Rontini looked at those present, put his finger to his lips, and turning to the artist nodded his head, — we understand you, my friend, please continue.

— Antonio!

— the sculptor called the servant, — do you remember the young man who works in the greengrocer's shop at our market?

— The dark-skinned, tall, and slightly curly one?

— the servant asked.

— You have an artist's eye, — Michelangelo smiled, — yes, that's him. Bring him to me, I need to talk to him.

— Well, alright, Matteo, — the sculptor sighed, — I will pay you as much as you want, but bear in mind, you will have to pose completely naked. Come tomorrow and we'll start working. Ideal body, proportions, grace, — Michelangelo whispered when the young man left the room, — this will be better than the frail body of Leonardo da Vinci, who posed for Andrea Verrocchio for his David, — and he smiled sarcastically.

— After signing the contract, — the old master coughed, — for several days I thought agonizingly how I should work with the huge stone lying on its side. It was impossible to lift it vertically, so I had to carve the figure of David in a horizontal position. And suddenly, one night, — Michelangelo looked at his friends, who were carefully listening to him, — my inner voice suggested a solution to me, simple, like everything genius. And I got to work. Matteo turned out to be a wonderful model and posed submissively for the sculptor. He was completely unfazed by having to stand naked for hours in front of Michelangelo, who was modeling his figure out of wax.

— What a perfect body this young man has, — the Master admired, — what proportions, what completeness of lines, plasticity, grace. The true ancient world, the crown of perfection. Michelangelo always admired the male body and was indifferent to the female one. Throughout his work, only men posed for the Master, and youths were the models for female images. He drew them naked, then drew long hair on them, added characteristic sexual differences and somewhat smoothed the roundness according to the female type. Therefore, if you look closely at his paintings and sculptures, you can notice that the female figures resemble male ones. He loved to draw naked bodies and despite the dissatisfaction of some high-ranking clergy, he painted a lot of them. To the harsh criticism of some church ministers that supposedly "the sight of naked people offends the feelings of the parishioners," he answered irritably: "How can you even think that a shoe can be more beautiful than the foot wearing it. Is a sheep from which clothes are made more noble than the miraculous human skin!" And in confirmation of his words, on the fresco "The Last Judgment," he showed "the rotation of bodies in eternal motion, desperate and terrible" and out of 345 figures depicted on it, 250 were naked men. Religious functionaries could not allow such "blasphemy" and demanded to cover the intimate places of the depicted bodies, "so as not to offend the feelings of believers." Cardinal Carafa accused his painting, located in the most main Christian church, of "immorality and obscenity." A censorship campaign was organized, and the Pope's Master of Ceremonies Biagio da Cesena stated that "this fresco is not for the Pope's chapel, but rather for public baths and taverns" (in response, Michelangelo in "The Last Judgment" depicted Cesena in hell in the form of King Minos, judge of the souls of the dead, with donkey ears, which was a hint at his stupidity). But, at the demand of Pope Pius IV, Daniele da Volterra, a student of Michelangelo, was forced to "cover the unsightly nakedness," for which the Romans awarded him the derogatory nickname "Il Braghettone" (the breeches maker). An angry Michelangelo asked to convey to the Pope that "removing the nakedness is easy. Let him bring the world into a decent appearance." But, despite all his love and admiration for the male body, he simply hated his own, considered himself a freak and described himself this way: "With a protruding forehead, shaggy hair, ears located near the back of the head, a broken nose with a sunken bridge, hollow cheeks, a protruding lower lip, a stoop resembling a hump, sagging buttocks." He treated himself so degradingly that in the painting "The Last Judgment", he depicted his own portrait in the form of a martyr whose skin was flayed alive and which Saint Bartholomew holds in his hand. Even his short stature — 160 cm — was reflected in his work. He loved to create enormous-sized works: the sculpture of David — 4.1 m high and weighing more than 6 tons, the painting of the Sistine Chapel — 40 x 14 m, the painting "The Last Judgment" — 13.7 x 12.2 m.

— Signor sculptor, — Matteo asked, in a break between sessions, — and who are you modeling from me? A worthy man, I hope.

— My friend, — Michelangelo smiled, — you don't have to worry. You are posing for the sculpture of David, the future King of the Jews, the greatest man in the history of mankind.

— A Jew?

— Matteo became alarmed, — but according to their faith, he must be circumcised, — and frantically covered his groin with his hands, — and I am a zealous Catholic and it is not customary for us. Here I do not agree.

— I didn't think about that, — Michelangelo thoughtfully frowned his eyebrows, — fine. I hope descendants will forgive me if I leave everything as you have it. Let's go to work (for more than 500 years, art critics around the world have been arguing why David, the future Jewish king, is not circumcised). After the work was completed, Matteo received his well-deserved fee and, having examined the wax figure, said indifferently:

— Well, it seems not bad. Call me if you still need me. I am at the market every day and you know where to find me.

— At my request, — the Master half-closed his teary eyes, — a solid fence was put up around the stone. I did not want prying eyes and unnecessary conversations. My servant brought clay from the quarry, from which we built a bathtub, which we placed on a cart, then put the meter-long wax figure of David sideways into it and poured water over it. The cart was on wheels and, with the help of a mule, it could be moved to where it was in front of my eyes. Little by little we scooped water out of the bathtub, exposing the figure lying on its side, and according to the shapes protruding from the water, I carved David out of marble. That was the solution, — he smiled, — which came to my mind in a dream. Two years of hard labor. Every day, without days off, in the heat and in the cold, under the rain and snow. He often forgot about food, sleep, changing clothes and shoes.... He was making him, his David! On January 25, 1503, an almost finished statue was examined by a specially created commission of 30 Florentine citizens, which included many great artists and sculptors of that time, led by Sandro Botticelli and Leonardo da Vinci (although, due to constant rivalry, Michelangelo had strained relations with da Vinci and he once said: "This man talks such things about sculpture that it would be better if my cook spoke about this than he"). Nevertheless, the work was accepted, and as a participant in these events, Giorgio Vasari, wrote in his famous work: "Lives of the Most Excellent Painters, Sculptors, and Architects": "No one has ever made and will ever make a work so excellent, and hardly with all efforts is it possible to repeat what was done"! It was decided to place the sculpture at the doors of the Palazzo Vecchio. The transportation of this colossal sculpture, in size and weight, took four days. More than forty people participated in it, "who were responsible for towing and sliding it inside a wooden cage on beams greased with melted fat." Michelangelo finished the work on the statue already at the place of its installation.

— My friends, — the old Master suddenly exclaimed, and attempting to stand up from the armchair, fell to the floor.

— Ah, signors, — Doctor Rontini rushed to Michelangelo, — how did we not keep an eye on him! He bent over the body, half-opened the lying man's eyelids, and said, — our friend is unconscious. It's a stroke, — and placing a pillow under his head, added, — let him lie on the floor, he must not be moved. Urbino, bring a blanket. Darkness... Then a flash of light.. like a lightning strike... The cry of a newborn and a female voice: "A boy. Signora, you have a son." The weak voice of the woman in labor: "We will call him Michelangelo, in honor of the Archangel Michael"! Whistling... crackling... some whirling... something flashed... The cry of a child, — where is my mom? I want to see mom!

— Accept it, — the wet nurse's voice, — she is gone! Come to me.... Darkness... why is it so dark?... a glimpse...

— I am already 13 years old, — Michelangelo grimaced and looked at Francesco da Urbino, — teacher, this is Florence, there are churches, frescoes of Giotto Masaccio, the Brancacci Chapel, and you give me grammar? I don't want to! Oh, how it spins... where am I?... oh.. oh.. oh......

— Pietro!

— Michelangelo laughed, — this is a daub, not a drawing. This is the academy of Lorenzo de' Medici himself, and you, what are you doing here? Here I am! I am only 15 years old, and already an artist. And who are you? Just an apprentice, — and he smirked, — now I will tell Master Ghirlandaio, — he grimaced, — and you will be thrown out into the street like a dog, — he teased, — like a dog... like a dog...

— Ah, you..., — Pietro Torrigiano gasped, — here, take this! A blow to the face...

— Michelangelo: My nose!!!... Darkness... A stranger in a black cloak.

— Maestro, — he nodded his head, — remember me?

— Of course I remember, — Michelangelo whispered, — but you haven't changed at all. How is this possible?

— That's because I am immortal, — the stranger smiled, — and the past 75 years are just a moment to me. But you are already an old man, ending your life's path, and now you stand on the threshold of eternity. We will meet soon, but for now - fly, fly, I will not bother you, — and disappeared. Everything is spinning... crackling... whistling... where am I being carried?... some man in a red robe... saying something... hard to hear because of the whistling...

— You deceived me, — frowned Cardinal Riario di San Giorgio. You sold me the sculpture "Cupid" as an ancient antique, but in reality you carved it yourself? You are a trickster, and this is at 19! Well, fine, — the cardinal changed his anger to mercy, — I forgive you. Move to Rome, you will work for me. I need talented people. An artist in Rome... God, it's spinning again... and again this man in the red robe...

— God cannot be naked, — frowned the cardinal, by whose order Michelangelo made the sculpture of the God of wine, Bacchus, — you must redo it! Michelangelo: I won't..... I don't want to...! Again carrying me somewhere... nothing is visible... darkness... Florence.. 1501.

— I accept the order and will take on this work..... What a colossal stone... David!!!... The sound of a hammer.... chisel... marble dust... some whistling... The noise of voices... a mass of people moving a huge cage with the statue... someone's cry: — Careful... it weighs 6 tons...! watch the sliding on the logs... they are transporting David!!!... Two years of hard labor - but this is a masterpiece!

— What is happening?

— the Master groaned, — what is wrong with me? I am scared! Suddenly everything went quiet, and a man in a black cloak emerged from the darkness.

— You are on your way to eternity, Maestro, — he said calmly, — and you have nothing to fear anymore. Everything that was supposed to happen has already happened in your earthly life. Now is the time to comprehend the path traveled and try to find harmony with yourself.

— What harmony?

— Michelangelo groaned, — I have worked my whole life.... I...

— No, no, — the stranger waved his hand, — it is too early to speak, the time has not yet come. Fly, fly, the main thing is ahead! Flight... darkness... a long pipe.... some light.... 1503 - Michelangelo is in Rome summoned by Pope Julius II. Preparation for the construction of the Pope's tomb, a massive mausoleum. Work for 5 years.

— Master, — the servant groaned plaintively, — we have been looking for marble blocks in this terrible Carrara quarry for six months. When will we go home?... — and suddenly cried out in fright, — watch out Master!

— and rushed to Michelangelo, who had fallen from his mule.

— My God, right on the stones! How are you, master?

— When we find marble, we'll go home, — Michelangelo answered, rubbing his bruised knee, — it's nothing, nothing, the main thing is that my hands are whole. This is my wealth. Ooh, stupid animal, — and slapped the mule's rump, — this is the third time I've fallen off you. Do you want to ruin a genius? The mule looked at him indifferently and, snorting, turned away. Returning to Rome, Michelangelo found out that the project had been stopped. He became furious and.... Phew... oh.. oh.. oh... darkness... a terrible flight... bright light... Escape to Florence and return to Rome after three months. New project of Pope Julius II - painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Michelangelo did not like painting and ironically said: "Painting is secondary, and is good when it resembles sculpture", but he could not refuse such an order.

— No, no, — the artist rushed between the workers, — tie with stronger ropes... the height is great, the scaffolding must be strong... the transitions between levels need to be shortened and made less steep..., here, you stupid people, — he swore, — fasten the structure to the wall... Rotation... whistling... crackling... what a height!... drops of paint on the face... dust in the eyes... I see nothing... falling... severe pain in the leg... a-a-a.... how it hurts!!!

— Master, — the anxious voice of the servant, — did you hurt yourself?

— Urbino tried to lift the moaning Michelangelo to his feet.

— Thank God, you fell on a pile of empty sandbags, otherwise... Lord, what a height, — he looked up with fear, — horror!

— You severely injured your leg, — having examined the artist said Dr. Baccio Rontini, — and as a doctor and friend, I forbid you to continue working until you are completely recovered. Let your assistants work, and you lie at home. Aren't other masters working with you? I heard that you summoned several artists from Florence. Where are they?

— What assistants?

— Urbino sighed sadly, — the master kicked everyone out and they went back home.

— Idlers and mediocrities, — Michelangelo said indignantly, — they don't know how and can't do anything, — and waving his hand, added, — I destroyed all their daub. After all, this is the Sistine Chapel!

— he looked up, — and not some tavern. Talent is needed here, I'd rather work myself. And that my leg hurts, it's not a hindrance, I will paint lying down. Urbino! Help me climb up. The servant sighed, looked at the doctor and offered his shoulder to the master.

— Yes, — Rontini shook his head sadly, — quite a character. No wonder the rumor goes about him: "When the angels were handing out a good character and communication skills, Michelangelo stood in line for talent again."

— Master!

— the servant's head appeared between the boards of the wooden scaffolding, — when did you last eat? You haven't come down for three days. You stand on these scaffoldings at a height of 25 meters and paint the ceiling.

— You are wrong, Urbino, — wiping the paint from his lips, Michelangelo wheezed, — I do not stand all the time. Sometimes I paint sitting, and sometimes lying down, and then my back rests.

— Come down, — the servant waved his hand, — I have heated water and prepared a small bath. You need to wash, because you haven't taken off your boots and clothes for two months.

— My God, how it hurts, — Michelangelo groaned sitting in the bath, — what are you doing, Urbino?

— I wanted to take your boots off, — the servant replied, — but they have grown so much into your body that they are torn off along with the skin. I had to cut them. Look what wounds are on your legs, a horror.

— You cut my shoes?

— the artist was indignant, — how could you? They were almost new, I had only worn them for two years. The servant just waved his hand and started to lather his master's body. For four years, Michelangelo, almost single-handedly, painted the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel with an area of 600 sq. m. Among the assistants, there was only a servant who rubbed and diluted paints, and a few more people primed the plaster. Noise... what a noise and crackling... flight again... oh, how heavy... Tommaso, help... where is my Tommaso?... Tommaso dei Cavalieri - the object of Michelangelo's extreme affection. When they met, the Master was 57 years old, Tommaso was 23 years old. He belonged to a very noble family, was an exalted personality, distinguished by grace and refinement. Blessed am I to be defeated by the Captor. He is fully armed. Oh miracle! Lonely and naked, Found peace in the knight's captivity. (Michelangelo. Sonnet dedicated to Tommaso). For the lonely artist, "it was not just love at first sight, it was a lightning strike, a bolt from the blue."

— You will soon see your friend Tommaso dei Cavalieri, — the stranger in the black cloak sat in the armchair, — and you will have time to say goodbye to him and other friends dear to your heart. Your earthly life has flashed before you and now you have come to the line beyond which eternity awaits you. But, I thought that you spent so much talent, effort, energy, and time writing the painting "The Last Judgment" that you deserve to personally attend this judgment, where you will meet many people with whom you communicated during your life. And one more reason. You were the richest artist of your time (after Michelangelo's death, 8289 gold coins were found in his chest - that is 30 kg of gold, which today is equivalent to €150 million), but, at the same time, you lived very modestly, almost in poverty. THE WEALTHY BEGGAR! You worked hard all your life and left your descendants a priceless heritage that cannot be evaluated with money. So, you deserve to go through "The Last Judgment" and I am making this gift to you.

— Look, — Tommaso exclaimed, — he has woken up. Maestro!

— he bent over Michelangelo, — how you scared us. We are very glad that you are with us again.

— No, Tommaso, — the artist whispered, — this man in black gave me the opportunity to say goodbye to you. And I am already far, very far away, and "The Last Judgment" awaits me. Take the paper on the table, everything is written there. Goodbye! God be with you! The artist painted "The Last Judgment" for four years, and remembered every millimeter of the huge canvas perfectly, however, finding himself "inside the painting", he got confused. But, seeing familiar faces, landscapes, he began to recall the process of creation and calmed down.

— Signora Colonna!

— Michelangelo suddenly cried out, stretching his hands towards a man and a woman approaching him, — is it you?

— Glad to see you, Signor Buonarroti, — Colonna Vittoria, Marchioness of Pescara, bowed, — yes, it's me. Allow me to introduce my husband to you, — and with a smile she turned to the man dressed in a military camisole standing nearby, — my husband, Ferdinand d'Avalos d'Aquino d'Aragona, Marquis of Pescara, Viceroy of Milan, Spanish General.

— Glad to meet the famous painter and sculptor, — the general bowed, — my wife told me a lot about you. After all, your friendship lasted for 10 years, didn't it?

— Yes, Signor Marquis of Pescara, — Michelangelo sighed, — 10 years, until your wife left that mortal world. I want to tell you that I have always admired Signora Colonna, her irreproachable chastity and piety. I really liked her beautiful poems dedicated to spirituality and love for God. I won't hide it, I even dedicated my sonnets to her: Captivated by boundless beauty, By the one to whom I am immensely drawn, Who became the heart and soul of my life. But by too narrow a path, The good donna descends into my depths, To give it light - I will shatter myself. You were very lucky, Signor Marquis, — Michelangelo smiled, — during her life, a great woman was next to you and I am sincerely glad that you are together again.

— Goodbye, Signor Buonarroti, — Vittoria smiled, — I was glad to meet you and introduce you to my husband. And they disappeared.

— Signor Michelangelo, is it you? What a meeting, — Leonardo da Vinci, Sandro Botticelli, and Raphael stood near him.

— We want to express our admiration for your painting "The Last Judgment", said Raphael, — as, in fact, for all your work. I hope that between us there will no longer be envy, jealousy and you will no longer say about me: "Everything he knows about art, he received or stole from me!"

— Because of you, Signor Buonarroti, — Botticelli said resentfully, — descendants consigned me to oblivion for three centuries, although, 30 years before you started painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, it was I who, on the orders of Pope Sixtus IV, stood at the head of all works on painting the walls and I depicted the figures of 11 Roman Popes and three large scenes from the main cycle on the upper row of paintings. But, — he sighed bitterly, — no one remembers this. By the way, — he looked at da Vinci and Raphael, — you, with your work, also contributed to my oblivion. Giants of the Renaissance, indeed!

— and he resentfully turned away.

— Signors, — Leonardo da Vinci said conciliatorily, — let's not stir up the past, let alone the future, and let's forget about all our grievances. Look, — and he pointed to a group of people approaching them, — these are cardinals and 13 Roman Popes walking, nine of whom, Maestro, were your regular clients. Let's not interfere with your meeting, — and the artists disappeared. The people approaching looked very strange. Some were dressed in robes, others were naked and bashfully covered their shameful places with their hands.

— Who do I see?

— Michelangelo exclaimed, addressing one of them, — Signor Master of Ceremonies Biagio da Cesena! Well, do not hide behind other people's backs, I perfectly recognized you by the donkey ears of King Minos, with which I gladly rewarded you. And who is that next to you? Oh, yes, it's Riario di San Giorgio. Cardinal! How about the God of wine, Bacchus? So, can he be depicted naked, or not? Aha, Cardinal Carafa!

— he turned to an elderly man, shamefully covering his intimate places with his hands, — will you still accuse me of "immorality and obscenity" and demand, like Pope Pius IV, — he pointed his finger at the gray-haired gentleman, — to cover the "unsightly nakedness" of the characters in my painting? But, you, signors, do not be ashamed of your naked appearance, — he chuckled, — when the time comes for my student, Daniele da Volterra, to depart to a better world, he will gladly cover your "unsightly nakedness". He will try his best, since it was him whom you forced to cover the "shame" on my paintings, for which the Romans unfairly "rewarded" him with the offensive nickname "Il Braghettone" (the breeches maker). Goodbye signors, — he waved his hand, — I hope that we will not meet again.

— Michelangelo, I greet you, — the young man standing nearby raised his hand, — recognize me?

— Pietro Torrigiano!

— the artist exclaimed, — my school friend, of course, I remember you well. My broken nose, because of which I spoke nasally all my life, will never forget our fight. But, no offense, it was my own fault that I offended you in vain. You have become a true Master.

— Glad that we made peace, — the youth smiled and disappeared.

— Everything, Maestro, — a quiet voice from the abyss, — it is time. You have a long path ahead, the path to immortality. Even during your life, you became great, and there is no doubt that a worthy place in the art world awaits you. Now, your path is to eternity, Master! Michelangelo's spirit began to ascend smoothly, when suddenly lightning flashed, he was shaken severely, and the movement stopped.

— Forgive me, Maestro, — the voice of the Messire, — but we will have to wait. Your countrymen do not want to let go of their idol, so they have stolen your body from Rome and are now transporting it to Florence. People sometimes commit unpredictable acts, especially Italians. Pope Pius IV was going to bury Michelangelo in Rome by building him a tomb in St. Peter's Basilica. The Master's body was temporarily laid in the Basilica of the Holy Apostles. But the inhabitants of Florence could not accept that Michelangelo Buonarroti, their asset and pride, would be buried in Rome. Florentines collected money, hired the best thieves in Rome, who stole the artist's body, secretly transported it to Florence, where he was solemnly buried in the Franciscan church of Santa Croce, near Machiavelli's grave. Daniele da Volterra took a piece of paper from the table, read it, and raised his eyes to those present.

— What is it?

— asked Tommaso Cavalieri, — what did the Master write? Da Volterra read softly: "I give my soul to God, my body to the earth, my property to my relatives" "Michelangelo Buonarroti".