Vittorio Mussolini

THERE were, as far as is known, five little Mussolinis, two girls and three boys. Of these “princes and princesses of the blood”, as Benito Mussolini referred to his children, Edda, the eldest, was his favourite. But she found it hard to speak well of him after the execution of her husband as a “traitor” when the regime was failing. His other daughter, Anna Maria, had no ambition outside her marriage. Of the boys, Bruno died in a flying accident and Romano became a jazz pianist, a disappointment to a father whose solace, along with women, was Beethoven. Vittorio he considered the least promising. When Benito mulled over the possibility of creating a dynasty, Vittorio came bottom of his list as a successor. Yet it was Vittorio (with his father in our picture) who turned out to be the most loyal of the children, a fierce defender of what he saw as family honour.

As the spokesman for the Mussolini family after the second world war, Vittorio gained respect rather than reprobation. In 1957 he published “Vita con mio Padre” (“Life with my Father”). The book painted a picture quite different from that of the strutting public figure seen on old newsreels addressing multitudes. Benito was a solitary man with few friends, passing his time in the vast Villa Torlonia in Rome, with a lion as a pet. He was remote even from his family. In 1973 Vittorio wrote another account of his father's life, this one concentrating on his “tragic women”.

Both books were well received in Italy but created little interest outside, even among historians. A puzzle for non-Italians is why the name Mussolini is not considered an impediment by those of his descendants who bear it. Claimants to links with Hitler and Stalin, though they exist, excite no such affection. Alessandra Mussolini has indeed paraded the name to advantage. She is a member of the Italian parliament for a party of the right, and, with 44% of the vote, was recently very nearly elected mayor of Naples, remarking afterwards, “This is a victory for my grandfather.”

Wartime follies

As a war leader, Benito Mussolini did not have many victories. His conquest of Abyssinia in 1935 was short-lived. In Greece and in North Africa his soldiers had to be rescued by the Germans. In Italy he is seen in retrospect as a victim of his follies, pompous certainly, but not thought of as an evil man. In the 1930s, when Hitler had Europe continuously on edge, Mussolini was thought by the democracies to be a moderating influence. He did not much care for Hitler. The Germans, he forecast, “will end by ruining our idea.”

The benign view of the Italian dictator tends to overlook the racial laws he introduced in 1938, and his likely use of gas against Abyssinia's primitive army. Vittorio claimed that his father was unaware of what happened at Auschwitz, but this is hard to believe. If Italians believe it, or choose not to dwell on it, this may be because, as an observer put it this week, they place a high value on celebrity, which tends to outweigh any bad memories. At least as a celebrity Mussolini is part of the Italian pantheon of this century, along with politicians such as De Gasperi and Andreotti, and industrialists such as Agnelli.

Vittorio knew a lot about celebrity. He edited a magazine, Cinema, in the 1930s and set up a film company after spending some time in Hollywood. Roberto Rossellini, Vittorio De Sica and other masters of post-war Italian cinema recalled that Vittorio Mussolini had given them their first breaks, allowing them artistic freedom. For Italians it was another merit mark for the Mussolini era.

For Vittorio, though, Italy was a dangerous place at the end of the war. Italy was in a state of anarchy. Benito Mussolini had been killed by armed thugs, and his body, and that of his mistress, had been hung upside-down in a square in Milan. Vittorio was being hunted. He had been an airman in Abyssinia and Greece, and had fought for Franco in Spain. When Italy was collapsing, he had broadcast from Germany calling on Italians to continue to fight. He had joined the fascist government in its final hopeless stand in northern Italy, and had tried, without success, to persuade his father to flee the country. “I am going to meet my fate in Italy,” Benito Mussolini had told him.

It was time for Vittorio to leave. He found his way to South America and had a number of jobs. He was a correspondent for an Italian newspaper and ran some small restaurants. He returned to Italy in 1959, and made his home in a farm in Romagna, collecting memorabilia about the Mussolini years, which he put into a documentary film about his father. Vittorio declined to enter politics. He could have chosen from a variety of right-wing parties, including the post-fascist group led by his friend Gianfranco Fini. Apparently he disapproved of his niece Alessandra's political ambitions. “He was terrified,” she recalled. At his death Alessandra said her uncle “represented the historical memory of the family”. In the Mussolini way, it was the tribute given the most prominence.