The answer takes you to a museum attached to Florence's great Duomo cathedral: It houses the sculpture that Michelangelo actually planned for his tomb, a somber depiction of Christ being lowered from the cross.
The story is that the sculptor, then in his 80s, became displeased with it and, in frustration, smashed part of it with his hammer before abandoning the work. The fragments were gathered and later reattached, and today you can clearly see the cracks. (Several artists collaborated on Michelangelo's elaborate Santa Croce tomb.)
At the Frari church in Venice, besides Monteverdi's slab, you'll find the pyramid-shaped mausoleum of the sculptor Antonio Canova, containing, it's said, only his heart. Here, too, the tomb of the Renaissance master Titian stands near his enormous, glowing painting of the Assumption, which the writer Oscar Wilde deemed ''certainly the best picture in Italy.''
In Rome, near the Pyramide subway stop in the Non-Catholic Cemetery, many artists are buried, and many of them were English. Indeed, passing through the gate you step from noisy Roman streets into what could be a tranquil corner of Britain, with pruned hedges, stately shade trees and bright lawns strewn with violets.
Here, understatement marks the headstones of painters and poets, including two immortals of literature.
Follow the gravel path to the simple corner grave of John Keats, whose odes and sonnets are among the finest in English. Suffering from tuberculosis, he traveled to Rome at the recommendation of doctors who hoped in vain that the climate would improve his health; he was just 25 when he died here in 1821.
''Here lies one whose name was writ in water,'' reads the epitaph he wrote, sensing that he'd be forgotten. Hardly. On a recent sunny day, a steady stream of literary pilgrims paused silently by his gravestone, the cemetery's most visited.
Many next climbed a small rise to the grave of the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley, who drowned in Italy.
Nearby, a shaft of sunlight fell on a particularly affecting sight: the American sculptor William Wetmore Story's marker for his wife, Emelyn. He completed the human-sized angel not long before his own death and burial here.
''I am making a monument to place in the Protestant Cemetery,'' Story wrote to a relative in 1894, ''and I am always asking myself if she knows it and if she can see it. It represents the angel of Grief,