“Michelangelo’s sagacity with regard to the importance of S. Miniato guaranteed the safety of the town, and proved a source of great damage to the enemy.  Although he had taken care to secure the position, he still remained at his post there, in case of accidents; and after passing some six months, rumours began to circulate among the soldiers about expected treason.  Buonarroti, then, noticing these reports, and being also warned by certain officers who were his friends, approached the Signory, and laid before them what he had heard and seen.  He explained the danger hanging over the city, and told them there was still time to provide against it, if they would.  Instead of receiving thanks for this service, he was abused, and rebuked as being timorous and too suspicious.  The man who made him this answer would have done better had he opened his ears to good advice; for when the Medici returned he was beheaded, whereas he might have kept himself alive.  When Michelangelo perceived how little his words were worth, and in what certain peril the city stood, he caused one of the gates to be opened, by the authority which he possessed, and went forth with two of his comrades, and took the road for Venice.”

As usual with Condivi, this paragraph gives a general and yet substantially accurate account of what really took place.  The decisive document, however, which throws light upon Michelangelo’s mind in the transaction, is a letter written by him from Venice to his friend Battista della Palla on the 25th of September.  Palla, who was an agent for Francis I. in works of Italian art, antiques, and bric-a-brac, had long purposed a journey into France; and Michelangelo, considering the miserable state of Italian politics, agreed to join him.  These explanations will suffice to make the import of Michelangelo’s letter clear.

“Battista, dearest friend, I left Florence, as I think you know, meaning to go to France.  When I reached Venice, I inquired about the road, and they told me I should have to pass through German territory, and that the journey is both perilous and difficult.  Therefore I thought it well to ask you, at your pleasure, whether you are still inclined to go, and to beg you; and so I entreat you, let me know, and say where you want me to wait for you, and we will travel together, I left home without speaking to any of my friends, and in great confusion.  You know that I wanted in any case to go to France, and often asked for leave, but did not get it.  Nevertheless I was quite resolved, and without any sort of fear, to see the end of the war out first.  But on Tuesday morning, September 21, a certain person came out by the gate at S. Niccolo, where I was attending to the bastions, and whispered in my ear that, if I meant to save my life, I must not stay at Florence.  He accompanied me home, dined there, brought me horses, and never left my side till he got me outside the city, declaring that this was my salvation.  Whether God or the devil was the man, I do not know.