Giovanni Bonello writes:
Or is it two days? Memories of Maurice, so fresh, overwhelming, so crisp, just trump the journeys of time. They sidetrack the calendar, they smudge boundaries between present and past, they disturb the rites of healing. Did death seduce him already two years ago? I had to double check that with the obituaries.
A genteel colossus with no ambitions of being one, an icon happiest when not in full view, a remorseless force shy of appearing so – that was Maurice to those who knew him. And much, much else, besides. He was an inspiration in the pursuit of beauty, a round-the-clock tutorial in the pursuit of integrity – in fact, did he pursue them or did they pursue him? He made redundant the search for the definition of a gentleman: he was the quintessence of the gentleman.
After he retired from business, Fondazzjoni Patrimonju Malti turned into his major emotive and cultural investment. He adopted the foundation with zealot passion, with the addictive fanaticism and unswerving devoutness others reserve for religion or jihad. It was on his mind and in his heart up to his dying breath. So was the regeneration of Palazzo Falson in Mdina, which at this same time celebrates the 10th anniversary of its resurrection.
Maurice and myself stumbled in the arms of Palazzo Falson by sheer accident. I needed to have a closer look at an old and rather unique painting of a Maltese village wedding which I knew formed part the Olof Gollcher collections. Maurice agreed to accompany me to Mdina and made the necessary arrangements to have the palazzo opened for us.
We saw what I wanted, but we also could not help witnessing the state of tired neglect and depressive failure that had befallen the priceless cultural gems Gollcher had, in a moment of absurd liberality, bequeathed to the nation. I told Maurice: this cannot be. Something should be done! On my part, it was a throwaway remark and little else. On him, it had the effect of galvanising his whole being into action. Manic action.
Palazzo Falson would then become one of the major projects of Patrimonju. We made a bid to take it over, wake it up from its terminal dormancy and make it our responsibility. He collected, with his suave relentlessness, the huge funds necessary to reinstate the fabric of the medieval building, to refurbish all its services to museum requirements and to restore each and every single artefact it housed to the most taxing international conservation standards.
Exactly 10 years ago, he saw our rather delirious dream come true. That was Maurice. The most insignificant of proddings he alchemised into awesome cultural achievements no one else believed in or gave a hoot about.
That goes for Fondazzjoni Patrimonju Malti too. It was his contagious zeal, his far-sighted vision and his understated leadership that blew a vitalising life into a half-baked concept and saw it survive and thrive. Today Patrimonju has become synonymous with excellence, with ambitious creativity. Its exhibitions are the paragons of all exhibitions, its publications the model of other editorial energies, its cultural initiatives the standard of commitment and success.
No one who worked for or with Maurice, at Patrimonju or outside it, can ever erase the deep imprints his presence etched on those whose paths he crossed. His instinctive elegance, his effortless civility, his charm, a boundless but never hurtful humour, the optimism that migrated from words to action, may only be ephemeral monuments of a lifetime. But what he left with death is destined to survive.