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While on leave from this assignment, in October, 1839, another twist of fate took control of his life. He traveled to Tennessee to visit his parents, and on the return trip to his assignment out of New York, the stagecoach in which he was riding slid off the muddy road. Matthew, who had given his seat inside the coach to a woman traveling with a baby, was sitting up on the outside of the coach with the driver, and was the only person seriously injured in the accident. His thighbone was broken and his right knee dislocated. After three long, painful and miserable months of recovery spent rooming at an unappealing tavern in Ohio, he was finally moved by sled to the home of Maury relatives in New York, and then to his family in Fredericksburg, VA. By then, he and Nannie had two children and a third one on the way. As he was still crippled from his accident and could not go to sea as assigned, the Navy loaned him out to the coast survey as an instrument man. He again wrote articles, under his “secret” pen name urging reforms in the Navy, and managed as best he could for two more years. His articles, although ignored by the establishment, began to take root in some minds of sailors. When the new President John Tyler came in and the old Secretary of the Navy went out, the newly appointed Secretary of the Navy, A. P. Usher, was found to agree, at least in part, with some of Matthew’s ideas. This led to his appointment as the head of the Depot of Charts and Instruments in Washington. Although this was not the position of a seafaring captain of which Matthew had dreamed, it was a job that he could do. He never entirely recovered from his injury, which limited his assignments. This job paid, and it provided a small home in Washington for his family. This disappointing career move, in the summer of 1842, put Matthew on his way, unforeseen by him or anyone else, to world wide fame.

The Navy’s Depot of Charts had been formed in 1830, literally as a place to store charts, chronometers (time measuring instruments, based on the location of the stars, used in navigation at sea), and various instruments. An observatory was added later to assess the accuracy of these chronometers by observing and recording the movements of the stars. Also stored here were US Navy ships’ logbooks which were required by US law to be maintained for a certain number of years. These were just things to be stored, so far as most people were concerned. This was a job anyone could do and stay out of the way of significant work of important men being done elsewhere. But the “anyone” put in this job was Matthew Fontaine Maury, and subsequently, the future of sailing would change because of him.

Matthew’s incessant need to learn and grow led him to explore everything in the Depot. He worked from eight or nine o’clock in the morning until one or two o’clock at night on all sorts of things that presented themselves to him. The logbooks began to intrigue him, as he actually studied them. He began to notice certain patterns in the accounts of these ships’ captains, as to what happened to their ships at certain locations at certain times of the year under certain weather conditions. He thought this information could be dissected and correlated and formed into sensible charts and actual paths to be followed in the seas. The result of this work, which he and his few lowly staff undertook, was the production of charts, which when used by sailors, demonstrated themselves to cut sailing times up to one half and provide safer paths in the sea. Needless to say, the Northern shippers were on his side, as shorter sailing times and fewer losses at sea put money in their pockets. Matthew was gaining supporters, and when the new Naval Observatory was built, in October 1844, Matthew was named its superintendent, and he moved his Depot of Charts and Instruments out to the new Observatory, along with his family into the new superintendent’s house, in Washington.

In 1847, Matthew issued the first wind and currents charts, free to all sea captains who agreed to report back to him on the conditions they encountered. The sailing industry, if not the Navy, fully appreciated his work, and his recognition for this work was becoming world-wide. He eventually adapted these charts, which only sailors used, into a work of science for the general public, entitled “The Physical Geography of the Sea.” Some pure research scientists were critical of Matthew’s works, saying that there were errors in some parts. Matthew acknowledged their comments, stating that his work was a work in progress, and he made revisions as later editions appeared. They resented his success as he was not “learned” from their formal institutions. However, his work saved untold millions of dollars and many sailors’ lives while the pure researchers searched for perfection before releasing any information. As Matthew was finally being recognized for his work and having a small degree of monetary success with his publication, these were relatively happy years for the Maury family living at the Observatory. Some of the older children had married by now and moved to their own homes, several to return to their parents’ home during the War.

Life for the Maurys never seemed to remain calm for long. On September 17, 1855, Matthew was notified, along with seventy-one other Naval officers, that he had been placed on a “reserved on leave of absence pay” list to make room for up and coming younger officers. Matthew was to remain as the head of the Observatory, but only with half pay. This was an outrage to Matthew, and both he and the press demanded that he be placed back on active status. Matthew began to explore the concept of a central weather bureau as his next step to gain favor. Through pressure of influential friends, Matthew was reinstated to the active list of the Navy, but received no back pay.

In the next few years, the country faced the approach of the War Between the States. Matthew, as so many of our other Southern leaders, urged conciliation and war to be avoided. After Virginia seceded, Matthew, along with those we all know well, tendered his resignation to the US Navy on April 20, 1861. Nothing went easy for Matthew. He could not even resign without trouble. His resignation was refused; he was branded a traitor and dismissed from the US Navy, after serving for thirty-eight years.

In May of 1861, Matthew was commissioned a commander in the small, almost non-existent Confederate States Navy. His family continued to live in Fredericksburg, VA, over his objections for their safety. His son Dick joined the 24th Virginia Volunteer Infantry; beloved nephew Dabney Maury resigned his commission in the US Army and became a Brigadier General in the CSA. Son John Herndon Maury, nicknamed “Davy Jones” left Virginia Military Institute and became an aide to BG Dabney Maury. As with many families, after the year 1861, the Maurys would never be all together again. Matthew became a rabid rebel, and began writing again. He had some degree of success with underwater mines, eventually commanding a mine laying expedition in the James River in May of 1862. These mines successfully fired, some after months and years of submersion. He encouraged the South to build gunboats, a project which was worked on for some time before being abandoned due to shortage of steam engines and guns. Again, with adequate resources, he would have had success.