According to an essay in the Dublin Review of Books
Charles Robert Maturin, [was a] Dubliner and author of the classic Gothic terror novel Melmoth the Wanderer,(1821) generally recognised as a late gothic masterpiece...
We learn about this writer that his grandfather:
.......Gabriel Jacques Maturin became dean of St Patrick’s cathedral following Swift’s death in 1745. Maturin’s own father had been Dean of Killala in Mayo, ....
Charles Maturin's writing may be due for a comeback very soon.
We learn about this writer that his grandfather:
.......Gabriel Jacques Maturin became dean of St Patrick’s cathedral following Swift’s death in 1745. Maturin’s own father had been Dean of Killala in Mayo, ....
Charles Robert Maturin had been ordained in 1803 and after a period in Loughrea became curate in St Peter’s church on Aungier Street. St Peter’s, which was one of largest Church of Ireland parishes in Dublin at the time, had been built on lands forfeited by the Whitefriars at the time of the dissolution of the monasteries.
Maturin... [had] financial difficulties ..... when he stood bond for a man (thought to be his brother) who subsequently went bankrupt, leaving the author to bear his debts. As a result of these burdens, financial worry was Charles Maturin’s constant companion for the remainder of his days, an unfortunate fate for one who, more than most, enjoyed a life of parties, wine and above all dancing.
However, in 1816 his play Bertram was a great success, earning him around a thousand pounds. Some thought it atheistic in tendency and Coleridge – still busy sliding away from earlier [liberal] opinions – denounced it for its Jacobinism....
Maturin... [had] financial difficulties ..... when he stood bond for a man (thought to be his brother) who subsequently went bankrupt, leaving the author to bear his debts. As a result of these burdens, financial worry was Charles Maturin’s constant companion for the remainder of his days, an unfortunate fate for one who, more than most, enjoyed a life of parties, wine and above all dancing.
However, in 1816 his play Bertram was a great success, earning him around a thousand pounds. Some thought it atheistic in tendency and Coleridge – still busy sliding away from earlier [liberal] opinions – denounced it for its Jacobinism....
Sir Walter Scott, held the highest opinion of Maturin’s writing. When Coleridge criticised Maturin’s play Bertram, Scott advised him not to respond as Coleridge would soon be forgotten!...
Here is a sample of Maturin's prose, from Melmoth. The scene, is set in a derelict house, a party of men is preparing to investigate a possible ship wreck, while a storm is raging in the night.
While the men were in search of a hundred coats, boots, and hats of their old master, to be sought for in every part of the house,—while one was dragging a great coat from the window, before which it had long hung as a blind, in total default of glass or shutters,—another was snatching a wig from the jack, where it had been suspended for a duster,—and a third was battling with a cat and her brood of kittens for a pair of old boots which she had been pleased to make the seat of her accouchement,—Melmoth had gone up to the ‘highest room in the house. The window was driven in ;—had there been light, this window commanded a view of the sea and the coast. He leaned far out of it, and listened with fearful and breathless anxiety. The night was dark, but far off, his sight, sharpened by intense solicitude, descried a light at sea. ....
The Dublin Review of Books, the source of our information, and a highly recommended journal, also says of our author:
There were huge divisions in ...[Maturin's] life: he was in the Church but denied advancement there,[due to his supposed atheist leanings;] he was of the ascendancy but an outsider, [French not English;] he was on the side of the colonised [the native Irish, who were Catholic] but virulently anti-Catholic, [and] he was attached to good living but was permanently short of money. It seems these divisions had their equivalent at a sartorial level. He was known as something of a dandy at parties yet on the street he was a dowdy and eccentric dresser.
And in the library too, Maturin could be a bit eccentric:
The Dublin writer Charles Maturin, ... it was said used to sit in ...[the library] with a host [communion wafer] pasted on his forehead to indicate that he was composing and should not be disturbed....
Here is a sample of Maturin's prose, from Melmoth. The scene, is set in a derelict house, a party of men is preparing to investigate a possible ship wreck, while a storm is raging in the night.
While the men were in search of a hundred coats, boots, and hats of their old master, to be sought for in every part of the house,—while one was dragging a great coat from the window, before which it had long hung as a blind, in total default of glass or shutters,—another was snatching a wig from the jack, where it had been suspended for a duster,—and a third was battling with a cat and her brood of kittens for a pair of old boots which she had been pleased to make the seat of her accouchement,—Melmoth had gone up to the ‘highest room in the house. The window was driven in ;—had there been light, this window commanded a view of the sea and the coast. He leaned far out of it, and listened with fearful and breathless anxiety. The night was dark, but far off, his sight, sharpened by intense solicitude, descried a light at sea. ....
The Dublin Review of Books, the source of our information, and a highly recommended journal, also says of our author:
There were huge divisions in ...[Maturin's] life: he was in the Church but denied advancement there,[due to his supposed atheist leanings;] he was of the ascendancy but an outsider, [French not English;] he was on the side of the colonised [the native Irish, who were Catholic] but virulently anti-Catholic, [and] he was attached to good living but was permanently short of money. It seems these divisions had their equivalent at a sartorial level. He was known as something of a dandy at parties yet on the street he was a dowdy and eccentric dresser.
And in the library too, Maturin could be a bit eccentric:
The Dublin writer Charles Maturin, ... it was said used to sit in ...[the library] with a host [communion wafer] pasted on his forehead to indicate that he was composing and should not be disturbed....
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