prophets. The Zuccone must belong to the series
of prophets; it is fruitless to speculate which.
Cherichini may have inspired the portrait. Its
ugliness is insuperable. It is not the vulgar
ugliness of a caricature, nor is it the audacious
embodiment of some hideous misshapen creature such
as we find in Velasquez, in the Gobbo of Verona, or
in the gargoyles of Notre Dame. There is no deformity
about it, probably very little exaggeration.
It is sheer uncompromising ugliness; rendered by the
cavernous mouth, the blear eyes, the flaccid complexion,
the unrelieved cranium—all carried to a
logical conclusion in the sloping shoulders and the
simian arms. But the Zuccone is not “revenged
of nature”: there is nothing to “induce
contempt.” On the other hand, indeed, there
is a tinge of sadness and compassion, objective and
subjective, which gives it a charm, even a fascination.
Tanto e bella, says Bocchi, tanto e vera,
tanto e naturale, that one gazes upon it in astonishment,
wondering in truth why the statue does not speak![23]
Bocchi’s criticism cannot be improved.
The problem has been obfuscated by the modern jargon
of art. Donatello has been charged with orgies
of realism and so forth. There may be realism,
but the term must be used with discretion: nowadays
it generally connotes the ugly treatment of an ugly
theme, and is applied less as a technical description
than as a term of abuse. Donatello was certainly
no realist in the sense that an ideal was excluded,
nor could he have been led by realism into servile
imitation or the multiplication of realities.
After a certain point the true ceases to be true,
as nobody knew better than Barye, the greatest of
the “realists.” The Zuccone can be
more fittingly described in Bocchi’s words.
It is the creation of a verist, of a naturalist, founded
on a clear and intimate perception of nature.
Donatello was pledged to no system, and his only canon,
if such existed, was the canon of observation matured
by technical ability. We have no reason to suppose
that Donatello claimed to be a deep thinker. He
did not spend his time, like Michael Angelo, in devising
theories to explain the realms of art. He was
without analytical pedantry, and, like his character,
his work was naive and direct. Nor was he absorbed
by appreciation of “beauty,” abstract
or concrete. If he saw a man with a humped back
or a short leg he would have been prepared to make
his portrait, assuming that the entity was not in
conflict with the subject in hand. Hence the
Zuccone. Its mesmeric ugliness is the effect
of Donatello’s gothic creed, and it well shows
how Donatello, who from his earliest period was opposed
to the conventions of the Pisan school, took the lead
among those who founded their art upon the observation
of nature. A later critic, shrewd and now much
neglected, said that Titian “contented himself
with pure necessity, which is the simple imitation
of nature."[24] One could not say quite so much of