Throughout his life, Fr Peter Serracino Inglott wore many hats — he was a philosopher, a leading scholar, university rector and advisor to then Prime Minister Eddie Fenech Adami. But few delved into the capers and life of the fun-loving priest. Marking the 10th year from his death, his biographer, professor Daniel Massa, gives a portrait of Fr Peter as a young man.

It was late afternoon on October 29, 1958. The train from Rome whistled its arrival at the Gare de Lyon and through a series of jolts ground noisily towards its destination, steam rising as the engine kissed the steel buffer on the wooden beams.

It had been a tiring journey – a boat trip in choppy seas from Malta to Catania, then a steam train through endless tunnels filling his red hair with soot all the way to Rome, where he stopped to watch the outcome of the Papal Conclave and finally, Paris. 

Folding his copy of the Osservatore Romano, Peter Serracino Inglott stared at the round face of Pope John XXIII smiling aat him from the front page. Then he gingerly alighted from the train. Ticket still dangling between his lips, he looked around, passed his fingers through his thick red hair, straightened his glasses and wondered how best to get to the Séminaire des Carmes.

His thoughts retraced decisions taken in recent months. Completing his degree at Oxford, he decided to study theology and philosophy in Paris. As a seminarian, he visited the Curia to solicit his archbishop’s permission to resume his studies at the Séminaire des Carmes.  

Archbishop Michael Gonzi tried to dissuade him. He would only pay if Peter studied in  Rome. Peter expressed his strong wish for Paris, arguing that the Institut Catholique had the best Theology Faculty in Europe, as well as “safe” conservative theologians including De Lepac and Danielou. 

That mollified the archbishop somewhat but he was not persuaded, it all seemed suspicious to him. What would a fledgling seminarian do in Paris? He remembered stories he’d heard about Josephine Baker, the black diva whose banana dance had taken Paris by storm in his own days during the 1920s. Gonzi felt he must protect this young man from the lures of the red-light district. He would pay only if Peter studied in Rome. End of story!

An archbishop who refused to budge

When the archbishop adamantly refused to budge, Peter came up with what he thought could be his winning move. So, haltingly he said what he humbly desired was only his blessing to study at the Séminaire des Carmes. He told the archbishop he had corresponded with the famous Pere Mossand and planned to follow the regime for priest-workers.

That did not reassure the ageing archbishop, but the chess pieces were still on the board. He’ll have to bide his time. So he knelt to kiss the Archbishop’s ring, again asked for his blessing and turned to go. No sooner had he started on his way out than the archbishop called him back. Now on the platform of Gare de Lyon, Peter remembered the naughty glint in his archbishop’s eyes. Peter recalled him saying: “My son in Christ, you survived three years of philosophy in that den of Anglicanism in Oxford and still want to become a priest. You must have an especially competent guardian angel. You may go with my blessing, but don’t expect much money from this end!” 

So that was it! Now safely inside the Gare de Lyon, Peter’s heartbeat in anticipation as he searched for the quickest way to the Séminaire. Despite the biting layer of damp chill getting through his shoes, he stopped to admire the architecture of the train station designed by Marius Toudoire for the 1900 universal exhibition.

The book PSI - Kingmaker

It was 5.30pm and he was feeling hungry. Beyond an apple and a limp cheese sandwich, he had not had much to eat on the journey. He smelt the whiff of freshly baked pastry issuing from the top of the stairs, where he spotted waiters with fresh cream profiteroles and a variety of mouth-watering food float past.

Did he have money to spare? Peter had neither the time nor the money. He looked at his watch. No time for dalliance. He must make his way to the Séminaire des Carmes, where he was expected. No specific time had been mentioned, but preferably, he was to show up before 9pm. He hoped to meet other seminarians, and partake of a bowl of hot onion soup with melted cheese folded into toasted bread. Then he would settle in his room before nightfall. 

But the best laid plans of mice and men too often go awry! Searching for the underground map, a colourful poster caught his attention: The Satin Slipper performed by the great French actor Jean Louis Barrault and his wife Madeleine Renaud. 

Miriam and Peter.

At La Scala cinema in Oxford, Peter had watched Barrault’s Les Enfants du Paradis, the outstanding film of the period. So that poster stopped him in his tracks. He was expected at the Séminaire, due there soon, but temptation cunningly set in, whispering thoughts that if he did not watch The Satin Slipper that day, there would not be another opportunity. Peter was then just 22, a seminarian studying for the priesthood and places of entertainment were strictly forbidden for priests and seminarians. 

Back in Malta, this rule greatly irritated Peter. There had been occasions when he skirted the rules; watching Vittorio de Sica’s Umberto Di at a village cinema, not in the city… that would have been too risky!

The Satin Slipper beckoned as Peter’s thoughts recollected Barrault’s performance as a pantomimist in Les Enfants du Paradis. Extremely keen to watch the actor who had become a legend during his lifetime, Peter considered this opportunity too good to miss. After tomorrow, no more plays. 

The play was due to start at 6.30pm, so there was no time to lose. Peter rushed to Palais Royal, paid a franc for the cheapest ticket, and crept in. The theatre was in total darkness, silence except for a few whispers and then the curtain opened and Peter took an aisle seat. He did not bother to put his suitcase in the cloakroom, and years later,  Peter chuckled as he remembered latecomers stumbling over it, swearing under their breath.

As the play began, Peter could hear the first lines of poetry in French. His eyes riveted on actors and scenery, his sharp ears drinking in every word: "The scene of this play is the entire world.”

The Satin Slipper unfolded against a background of flights of steps. A shining copper-coloured church, an austere palace, and a rippling reddish black sea provided a stunning backdrop for the characters who rushed around in red and pale gold costumes.

Set in the 16th century, Claudel’s drama is an intensely poetic meditation on holiness, human desire, and the working of divine grace. It is a story of thwarted love and religious faith set in imperial Spain’s colonial outposts, on galleons on the high seas plying the Mediterranean, and as far as the West Indies.

An omnivorous reader, Peter had read the play in translation before so he knew the story line well. The protagonists are Dona Prouhèze, a French woman of exceptional beauty and Don Rodrigue, an intrepid Spanish knight tasked with spearheading the Spanish conquest of the New World. Ensnared in a loveless marriage, Prouhèze  loves  Rodrigue. Once her lawyer husband discovers their obsessive desire for each other, he  forces his wife to join an expedition to oversee a Spanish citadel in Morocco and there put down an Islamic rebellion. 

Before she embarks, Dona Prouhèze offers her satin slipper with a tearful prayer, uttered in darkness and iridescent dream-lights: “While it is still time, I turn to you, Virgin Mother, to offer you my slipper… keep my unhappy small foot in your hand for I may seek to go against your wishes… Protect me, such that if I should rush headlong into sin, I should do so with halting foot… if I should seek to fly over your barrier, let it be with a broken wing.” 

Now he was hearing Madeleine Renaud’s crystal clear utterance of these words ringing across the aisles in French. Peter listened and savoured the atmosphere. Fascinated. Bewitched.  

He sat slightly hunched forward, all eyes and ears, enchanted by the stately rhythms of Claudel’s poetry, enjoying each utterance. He savoured each image like a gourmet his food, relishing each word, licking the juice that may run down his chin – no core, or stem, or rind, or pit, or seed, or skin to throw away. 

The separated lovers meet only once, 10 years later when Prouhèze is near death. Her refusal to surrender to forbidden passion is freely chosen suffering, leading to holiness and spiritual salvation; her love remains pure, unconsummated, her destination is heaven above. 

The author Daniel Massa

Peter remained glued to his seat for the entire five-hour performance. The play ended well after 11pm, when he suddenly remembered that the gates of the Seminary closed at midnight. He sincerely hoped to make it in time…

This is the first in a series of weekly features from the biography of Fr Peter Serracino Inglott — PSI Kingmaker — which will be available from the BDL book stand during the Malta Book Festival being held at the Malta Fairs & Conventions Centre (MFCC) in Ta’ Qali between November 23 and November 27. https://bit.ly/PeterSerracinoInglottKingmaker.