Maturin is willing to expound on any given insight or expand any given image far beyond intellectual elucidation or sensuous delight. Although he admired the sensational effects of "Monk" Lewis, the sombre tableaux of Mary Shelly, and the thoughtful meditations of William Godwin, Maturin's conventional moral limitations seem to have prevented him from learning useful literary lessons from any of them, and to have hampered him on every page of this extremely long-this much, much too long-novel. I believe, however, that it might very well have been theological rigidity that made it impossible for Maturin to create a thoughtful and thrilling gothic fiction. "Dissatisfied curate" is a phrase that aptly describes Charles Maturin, the author of "Melmoth the Wanderer." An impoverished, married clergyman, he was convinced that his failure to rise was a consequence of his theological convictions, but it appears that he was more likely snubbed because of his refusal to play politics or follow instructions. He's supposed to have sold his soul to the devil in exchange for two hundred years of life, but he's so incompetent that he never comes close to leading his would-be substitutes to damnation instead, he whines about the inferior living to which he has been assigned by his demonic superiors, just like a dissatisfied curate. That's how I feel about the "hero" Melmoth. "Hero? You call him a hero? By God, I thought he was a priest!" "Why, it's Aeneus I mean," answered the teacher. When he had finished, his mentor inquired, "How did you like the hero?"
There's an old story told by Ezra Pound-I believe it can be found either in "The ABC of Reading" or "From Confucius to Cummings"-about a retired sea captain, determined to improve his primary school Latin, who was tasked by his tutor (the local vicar or schoolmaster) with reading Vergil's Aeneid. When he had finished, his mentor inquired, "How did you like the hero?" "Hero? What hero?" the captain replied.
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