Abstract
For a long, long time I had a picture of Mussolini in my office. I was not a Fascist, not even an Italophile, but for me as for many other Europeans, Mussolini represented a very characteristic type in the evolution of mankind: a beneficent adventurer beginning in anarchy and becoming die saviour of spiritual values. At least I so fancied. The picture was a reproduction of a drawing by Toorop, the Javanese-Dutch artist, who had painted the Italian Dictator without ever seeing him, just as he had painted the face of an apostle or a visionary.
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