A sweeter gift I'll then impart, And thou shalt have-a maiden's heart, REV. R. C. MATURIN. THIS singular individual, whose poetry and eccentricities have latterly excited so much public attention in Dublin, was undoubtedly a man of genius, though it manifested itself, even in his most successful efforts, more in the play of imagination, than in the refinements of a correct taste or the coherency of intellectual power. His conduct and deportment as a man corresponded with his character as an author. Both were strongly marked with the same mixture of folly and inspiration-or, perhaps, we ought rather to have said possession: for there was a sort of bewilderingness even in the brightest sallies, whether in his intercourse with mankind or with the Muse. Before the tragedy of Bertram was produced at Drury-lane Theatre, and received with such distinguished approbation, Mr. Maturin was the humble, unknown, and unnoticed curate of St, Peter's, Dublin; from which he derived a stated income of £70, or at the utmost £100, per annum. In the same unostentatious corner of the prodigal Church-Establishment of Ireland, he died. Mr. Maturin, however, was at no period entirely dependent upon the emoluments of his curacy. He had published one or two novels; and he, besides, prepared a few young gentlemen to pass the entrance examinations of Trinity College, who for that purpose resided with him in his house, York-street, Dublin. But, notwithstanding these resources, Mr. Maturin's aspirations surpassed them; and, like men of talent in general, whose purses are mostly disproportionate to their desires, he was constantly beset with difficulties. The curate of St. Peter's was exceedingly vain both of his person and accomplishments; and as his income would not allow him to attract attention by the splendour of his dress and manners, he seldom failed to do so by their singularity. Mr. Maturin was tall, slender, but well-proportioned, and, on the whole, a good figure, which he took care to display in a wellmade black coat, tightly buttoned, and some odd light-coloured stocking-web pantaloons, surmounted, in winter, by a coat of prodigious dimensions, gracefully thrown on, so as not to obscure the symmetry it affected to protect. The Rev. Gentleman sang and danced, and prided himself on performing the movements and evolutions of the quadrille, certainly equal to any other divine of the Established Church, if not to any private lay gentleman of the three kingdoms. It often happened, too, that Mr. Maturin either laboured under an attack of gout, or met with some accident, which compelled the use of a slipper or a bandage, on one foot or one leg, and, by an unaccountable congruity of mischances, he was uniformly compelled on these occasions to appear in the public thoroughfares of Dublin, where the melancholy spectacle of a beautiful limb in pain never failed to excite the sighs and sympathies of all the interesting persons who passed, as well as to prompt their curiosity to make audible remarks or inquiries respecting the possessor. The effect upon a person of this temperament of the unexpected success of Bertram, led to some untoward consequences. The profits of the representation, and the copyright of that tragedy, exceeded, perhaps, one thousand pounds, while the praises bestowed upon its author by critics of all classes, convinced Mr. Maturin that 66 he had only to sit down and concoct any number of plays he pleased, each yielding him a pecuniary return, at least equal to the first. Unfortunately, the brightest hopes of genius are often the most fallacious, and so it proved in the present instance. A few months produced a second tragedy, which failed, and with it faded away the dreams of prosperity, in which the author of Bertram indulged. Time enabled Mr. Maturin gradually to extricate himself from embarrassments, occasioned by the failure of his hopes; and having thus had the wings of his ambition somewhat shortened, he in future pursued a safer flight. His eccentricities, however, remained in their former vigour, and in the coteries of Lady Morgan, or the romantic solitudes of Wicklow, the vain oddities of the curate of St. Peter's continued as remarkable as during the height of his tragic triumphs. Of late years, his pen was chiefly employed on works of romance, in which he evinced great powers of imagination and fecundity of language, with evident and lamentable carelessness in the application of both. He wrote rather for money than for fame, and drew a considerable revenue from the sale of his productions. He died October 30, 1824, after a protracted illness. LA HARPE. THE Academy of Rouen having proposed a subject for a prize in poetry; when the pieces for competition were read, the judges were unanimous in acknowledging the superiority to two odes, but the difficulty that now arose was, to which to give the preference: at length, after long discussion, finding that they were unable to decide otherwise, they determined to divide the prize between their respective authors. On opening the sealed billets sent with them, they found in each the name of La Harpe. PARNELL. RUFFHEAD, on the authority of Warburton, gives the following account of the cause which led to Parnell's intemperance. "When Parnell had been introduced by Swift to Lord-Treasurer Oxford, and had been established in his favour by the assistance of Pope, he soon began to entertain ambitious views. The walk he chose to shine in, was, popular preaching he had talents for it, and began to be dis : VOL. I. F |