this is true, the
works in fresco that he made in Ognissanti, where to-day there is the
cemetery, were wrought with so much diligence and with so many
precautions, that the water which has rained over them for so many years
has not been able to spoil them or to prevent their excellence from
being recognized, and that they have been preserved very well, because
they were wrought purely on the fresh plaster. On the walls, then, are
the Nativity of Jesus Christ and the Adoration of the Magi--that is,
over the tomb of the Aliotti. After this work Buonamico, having gone to
Bologna, wrought some scenes in fresco in S. Petronio, in the Chapel of
the Bolognini--that is, on the vaulting; but by reason of some accident,
I know not what, supervening, he did not finish them.

It is said that in the year 1302 he was summoned to Assisi, and that in
the Church of S. Francesco, in the Chapel of S. Caterina, he painted all
the stories of her life in fresco, which have been very well preserved;
and there are therein some figures that are worthy to be praised. This
chapel finished, on his passing through Arezzo, Bishop Guido, by reason
of having heard that Buonamico was a gay fellow and an able painter,
desired him to stop in that city and paint for him, in the Vescovado,
the chapel where baptisms are now held. Buonamico, having put his hand
to the work, had already done a good part of it when there befell him
the strangest experience in the world, which was, according to what
Franco Sacchetti relates, as follows. The Bishop had an ape, the
drollest and the most mischievous that there had ever been. This animal,
standing once on the scaffolding to watch Buonamico at work, had given
attention to everything, and had never taken his eyes off him when he
was mixing the colours, handling the flasks, beating the eggs for making
the distempers, and in short when he was doing anything else
whatsoever. Now, Buonamico having left off working one Saturday evening,
on the Sunday morning this ape, notwithstanding that he had, fastened to
his feet, a great block of wood which the Bishop made him carry in order
that thus he might not be able to leap wherever he liked, climbed on to
the scaffolding whereon Buonamico was used to stand to work, in spite of
the very great weight of the block of wood; and there, seizing the
flasks with his hands, pouring them one into another and making six
mixtures, and beating up whatever eggs there were, he began to daub