Protestant Exiles from France/Volume 2 - Book Third - Chapter 23 - Dean Gabriel James Maturin
Dean Gabriel James Maturin was grandson of Pasteur Gabriel Maturin. The Pasteur was a foundling, and received both Christian name and surname from a Roman Catholic lady, whose coachman picked him up when she was taking a drive through the streets of Paris. Notwithstanding the education which his protectress gave him, he became a Huguenot pasteur. “About the time of the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes,” says his grandson’s grandson, Rev. Charles Robert Maturin, “he was shut up in the Bastile, where he was left for twenty-six years, I suppose to give him time to reflect on the controverted points and make up his mind at leisure. With all these advantages he continued quite untractable, so that the Catholics, finding his case desperate, gave him his liberty. There was no danger, however, of his abusing this indulgence, for, owing to the keeper forgetting accidentally to bring him fuel during the winters of his confinement, and a few other agrémwnts of his situation, the poor man had lost the use of his limbs, and was a cripple for life.” He accompanied some of his former flock to Ireland, and there unexpectedly found his wife and two sons. One son, Peter, survived him, and became Dean of Killala. Peter was the father of Gabriel James (born 1700), at different times Prebendary of Malahidert, St. Michael’s, and St. John’s, then Dean of Kildare, and in 1745 (November 20) Dean of St. Patrick’s, Dublin. This Dean Maturin was an able mathematician; he obtained his preferments by the suffrages of the clergy, but died in the prime of life, 9th November 1746. From him descended Rev. Henry Maturin, Senior Fellow of Trinity College, Dublin; and Rector of Fanet; Rev. Charles Robert Maturin, author of “Bertram”; Gabriel Maturin, Esq.; Washington-Shirley Maturin, Esq., &c, &c.
The above-named Rev. Charles Robert Maturin, M.A., was born in 1782. Though better known in the walks of secular literature, he was a clergyman, Curate of St. Peter’s, Dublin, and an eloquent preacher. His church was crowded, “neither rain nor storm” keeping his hearers back. There was “fine frenzy” in his eyes, he had flowing black hair, and wore a Byronic shirt-collar. He spent much of his time at his desk in his study; and a wafer, pasted on his forehead, was a signal to every member of his family to be perfectly silent while he was at work. He died in 1824. His works were:—
The Fatal Revenge, or the Family of Montorio, 1804; The Wild Irish Boy, 1808; The Milesian Chief, 1811; Bertram, or The Castle of Aldobrand, 1816 — this was a tragedy performed in Drury Lane Theatre under Lord Byron’s patronage; Manuel, a drama, 1817; Woman, or Pour et Contre, 1818; Sermons, 1819; Fredocyno, a tragedy, 1819; Melmoth the Wanderer, a novel, 1820; The Universe, a poem, dedicated to Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 1821; Six Sermons on Popery, 1824. He had planned a series of three historical romances, but lived to publish the first only, namely, “The Albigenses,” in four volumes, with a Shaksperian motto,
“Sir, betake thee to thy faith,
For seventeen poniards are at thy bosom.”
(See Mrs. Oliphant’s Literary History of the Nineteenth Century, vol. vii., chap. 7.)