How the Elite Played in 1920s Rome: The Cadorin Frescoes on Via Veneto Revisited

The elite of Rome in the mid-1920s, including Mussolini's Jewish mistress, are still on display in a hotel dining room on via Veneto.

The frescoes of Guido Cadorin, a Venetian called to Rome to decorate the large room, have been restored to their original vibrancy and are easy to stop in and see any time--whether or not you are dining or staying in the hotel.  We wrote about these gorgeous paintings 7 years ago, as part of our RST Top 40 (#28).  And, yet, when we went back this year, they were better than ever.  We were fortunate to have the room to ourselves and take good photographs.  (That 2010 post has some additional information not included here.)

The Cadorin Salon/Dining Room - one side.

The style is "Liberty," Italy's version of Art Nouveau merging into Art Deco.  And in the hands of this artist, these beautifully dressed men and women of Fascist Rome come to life.

"Fiammetta and I wanted to pass into immortality in the salon's frescoes," explained the mistress, Margherita Sarfatti, of the painting of her and her daughter.  Although Margherita merited a place on the salon's walls--she was a journalist and art critic--her role as Mussolini's mistress perhaps led to Cadorin portraying her with "denti stretti," as some have said - gritted teeth or a fake smile--and in the background.

Sarfatti and her daughter are the two women in the
background.

Margherita Sarfatti

Other notable figures in the painting include the wife of one of the architects of the hotel, Marcello Piacentini, the most prominent and prolific of Fascist architects, and the painter Felice Carena. The figures on these walls seem oblivious to the Fascist politics from which they were benefiting.  That painted obliviousness had a cost, however.  A few months after the inauguration of the salon paintings, an official statement from the hotel said that there were some who were disturbed by the paintings and that they therefore covered them with draperies; the cover-up lasted until after the end of World War II.  The explanation given now is that the paintings omitted a central figure in Fascism, Mussolini. (There's a different explanation in our 2010 post, also involving Mussolini.)

One can also note some unusual figures in the paintings, including dark-skinned men in exotic costumes and the woman smoking, looking aggressively outward with her cigarette hanging out of her mouth (see Bill's review of "Fumo: Italy's Love Affair with the Cigarette.").  The architectonic details in the paintings are by Cadorin's brother-in-law Brenno Dal Giudice.  Between the two painters, the paintings flow around the doorways and windows of the salon (see the bottom photo).

For the first time we were able to find a written explanation of the frescoes, and identification of some of the people.  Ask at the front desk.  They don't have extra copies, and it's in Italian, but it's worthwhile to consult this several page explanation while you look at the paintings.

Smoking woman.

Exotic figure.

We included the Cadorin Salon in our first book, Rome the Second Time, as part of Itinerary 5: The Nazis and Fascists in Central Rome.  The salon is even more accessible now, with the paintings easier to see.  Don't miss this gem at #70 Via Veneto, now the Grand Hotel Palace.

More photos below.

Dianne

Having the room to ourselves.

Figures painted around the door opening.

RST Top 40. #28: The Frescoes that Worried Mussolini

The title for this posting is a brazen ripoff of Anne Weale's June 12, 2007 blog, and we thank her for it. But we found Guido Cadorin's frescoes on our own, though by accident, one evening more than two years ago. We had learned that the Grand Hotel Palace (now called the Boscolo Palace Hotel) was having an evening of jazz, one of our passions. We shed our jeans and T-shirts for hotel-respectable garb and headed for via Veneto. We found the Lounge Bar (up the hotel's main stairs and to the left) and the price list of beverages (gulp), but succumbed to the elegance of the room and the prospect of an evening's entertainment and ordered a bottle of white wine (E50). Our table was the one at the bottom left of the photo above, and the piano was only a few feet away.

And then we saw the frescoes. They're by Guido Cadorin (1892-1976), a Venetian painter of some repute. Guido's father was a sculptor with money, and the youngster grew up with the right influences, befriending Modigliani among others. Still, he refused an invitation to join the Futurist movement, writing in his journal: "I'm a spiritualist and an uncorrupted vegetarian" [the Futurists must have been ravenous meat-eaters]. "I feel outraged and after reading their books I just want to burn them and never reply."

Although well known for his easel paintings, Cadorin did several decorative, fresco projects in the 1920s, including a series (1924) at the home of the poet, Gabriele d'Annunzio. The frescoes in the lounge were completed for the opening of the hotel (then, apparently, called the Albergo degli Ambasciatori), designed by Marcello Piacentini, who had a major role in the building of EUR and in designing the new University of Rome (1932), with interiors by the Swiss decorator, Emilio Vogt.

According to one source, quoted by Weale, Cadorin's wall paintings drew on a famous series of frescoes by Veronese at the Villa Maser in the Veneto region. That may be true, but the great pleasure of these sublime works is their powerful evocation of the manners and social life of Rome's high society in the 1910s and 1920s. Their realism, their authenticity, owes much to Cadorin's personal observations; indeed, the people in them were real people.

And that's why Mussolini got so upset. One of those depicted was art critic Margherita Sarfatti, the daughter of a Jewish banker and, since 1911, Mussolini's mistress. As the story goes, Mussolini was concerned that the frescoes would expose the relationship, and so, within months of their unveiling, he had them covered. They remained inaccessible until after World War II.

Today you can enjoy Cadorin's work and need not indulge in the bottle of wine to do so. If only to feel more comfortable and less out of place, we do recommend giving the bermuda shorts some time off. Cadorin would concur.

Bill

PS - Make sure you get the right building; there are similarly named hotels nearby. The Palace is at via Veneto, 70, and it's on Itinerary 5: Nazis and Facists in Central Rome, in Rome the Second Time (p. 80).