Chapter Fourteen.
Closing Scenes.
For some time after his return home Mayne Reid’s health remained in a precarious state, and he suffered very much from depression. At one time it was almost feared that his mind would not recover its balance. That wonderful intellect was sadly clouded; the terrible ordeal he had passed through in New York had left its mark behind. But in the end, with careful nursing his illusions vanished, and he once more resumed the pen. After writing some short articles for “Cassell’s Illustrated Travels,” he revised “The Finger of Fate” and “Lone Ranche,” which was published in two volumes by Chapman and Hall. In May, 1872, Mayne Reid commenced writing a new story, “The Death Shot,” for Mr Ingram. It appeared in The Penny Illustrated Paper, and was a great success, speedily increasing the circulation of that paper. “The Death Shot” was also published by Beadle and Adams, of New York, in their Saturday Journal.
On returning from his autumn tour in South Wales, Captain Reid writes to his young friend, Charles Ollivant:
“I’m growing as fat as the claimant, and strong as a bull, but sorrowful as a ‘gib cat.’”
He was then re-writing “The Lone Ranche,” and making it a much longer book. It ran through the columns of The Penny Illustrated Paper, under the title of “Adela.”
In a letter written in November, Mayne Reid says:
“I am now in the middle of a negotiation, that if successful will be of great service to me—perhaps give me a small income for life, and for my dear wife when I die. I am trying to re-purchase the copyrights of my novels.”
It was successful, and in December, 1873, and the following June, 1874, he was enabled to re-purchase the copyrights of most of his works.
In the autumn of 1874, Chapman and Hall published “The Death Shot” in three volumes. It had recently been revised.
In the preface, dated Great Malvern, September, 1874, he says:
“The author has re-modelled—almost rewritten it.
“It is the same story, but as he hopes and believes, better told.”
During the summer of this year Captain Reid commenced “The Flag of Distress,” which was first published in Chambers Journal in August, 1875. He received three hundred guineas for the right of issue in that journal. Of this book Dr William Chambers wrote to Mayne Reid: “I think the plot excellent, and the character of ‘Harry Blew’ the finest you have drawn.”
“The Flag of Distress” was afterwards published in three volumes by Tinsley, and it and “The Death Shot” are now issued in one volume, published by Swan Sonnenschein and Co.
He also contributed several articles to magazines and a short tale to The Illustrated London News.
In October, 1874, Mayne Reid was again laid low. This time an abscess attacked the knee of the wounded leg. Again reports of his death were circulated, and once more arrangements made for his burial. For six months he was on his bed, and rose at last a cripple, never being able to walk again for the remainder of his life without the aid of crutches. In 1882 a small pension was granted him from the United States Government for Mexican war services. The claim was for an invalid pension, and this was afterwards increased, but only shortly before his death.
During the last few years of his life, Captain Mayne Reid may be said to have literally turned his sword into the “plough share.” He resided then near Ross, Herefordshire, amid the picturesque Wye scenery, and occupied himself in farming. He reared a peculiar breed of sheep—a cross between a Mexican species and the Welsh mountain sheep—and succeeded at length in getting a flock, all with the same peculiarities, namely, jet black bodies, snow-white faces and long white bushy tails. An account of these sheep appeared in the Live Stock Journal, 1880. They were called “Jacob’s sheep,” being “ringed and speckled.”
The Captain used to say, jestingly, that he should go down to posterity as a breeder of sheep. Their mutton appeared on his table, and out of their wool he had cloth woven, from which he wore garments made to his own design.
He was also a large potato grower, experimenting with Mexican seed. Some clever articles upon potato culture from his pen were contributed to the Live Stock Journal, 1880.
In his Herefordshire home he wrote “Gwen Wynn: a Romance of the Wye.”
Towards the end of 1880 Captain Mayne Reid revised “The Free Lances,” in fact re-writing almost every line. The book had been originally written while he was editing the Onward Magazine in New York, but was not then published. Mr Bonner, the proprietor of the New York Ledger, paid a large sum for running it through his paper.
This revising, in addition to other literary work, was rather hard upon Mayne Reid. He writes:
“I thought I would have broken down, but I seem to get better with the hard work, only I am in great fear my poor wife will give way. She is in very delicate health, and looking quite ill. That acts sadly against me in my work, for when she is not cheerful I don’t write nearly so well.”
His wife was his amanuensis. Captain Mayne Reid regularly contributed a Christmas tale to the Penny Illustrated Paper and other journals during these latter days.
“The Free Lances” was published in three volumes, 1881, by Remington. The Saturday Review, July, 1881, says: “Captain Mayne Reid seems to be as lively a writer as he ever was, and if ‘The Free Lances’ causes any less thrill of excitement than was wont to be aroused by ‘The Scalp Hunters,’ the fault must be due to a change in the reader rather than in the author.”
“The Free Lances” is now published in one volume.
The last novel from Captain Mayne Reid’s pen was “No Quarter,” an historical tale of the Parliamentary wars. Most of the scenes are laid in Herefordshire and the Forest of Dean, all of which Mayne Reid personally visited before writing the story. The principal characters and scenes of the book are historically correct.
He also wrote for the Sporting and Dramatic News articles on “Our Home Natural History,” and letters to the New York Tribune on the “Rural Life of England.”
For Mr Ingram’s paper, the Boys’ Illustrated News, of which Captain Mayne Reid was co-editor on its first appearance, he wrote “The Lost Mountain” and “The Chase of Leviathan,” also natural history notes and short stories.
“The Naturalist in Siluria,” a popular book on natural history, was also written in Herefordshire.
Mr W.H. Bates, author of “The Naturalist on the Amazon,” in a letter to Mrs Reid, says:
“Throughout our mutual acquaintance Captain Mayne Reid always impressed me as a man deeply interested in all natural history lore, and the subject was one of our most constant topics of conversation. If circumstances in early life had turned his attention in that direction he would have made a reputation as a naturalist.”
The last book for boys written by Captain Mayne Reid was “The Land of Fire,” a short story of the South Seas; but ere its publication the hand that penned it was cold in death.
Captain Mayne Reid possessed great powers of oratory. He would speak for hours on a subject with untiring energy. The language from his tongue flowed facile as that from his pen, his favourite theme being politics. He would often astound his hearers by the eloquence he expended upon his beloved theory—the superiority of Republican over Monarchial institutions. Occasionally he came across a Tory equally red-hot, and then the “fur would fly.” But Captain Reid, by his great charm of manner, rarely gave offence, and was, as a rule, listened to with good nature on both sides. Often while in the height of a very hot discussion he would suddenly change the theme, dropping at once from the sublime to the ridiculous with such ease that it was difficult for his audience to tell if he had really been in earnest. Had Mayne Reid chosen, he would have made a name as an orator. The few occasions on which he occupied the platform amply proved this.
Though cherishing the strongest Republican principles, Mayne Reid was by no means a leveller, but in many things the very opposite to what the expression of his opinions would lead one to suppose. He was an enigma, which only one in the close contact of everyday life with him could solve.
His name rarely figured at literary gatherings, but he sometimes attended the Geographical or Zoological Societies’ meetings; in fact, he avoided rather than sought literary society.
Before commencing a new book, Captain Mayne Reid would thoroughly study his subject and work out the plot. He would make rough drafts at first, which were afterwards thrown away.
He had no skill with the pencil, but would make curious figures like hieroglyphics in his manuscript, intended to represent objects described, but bearing to all but himself a merely imaginary resemblance.
His mode of writing was peculiar. He rarely sat at a table, but reclined on a couch, arrayed in dressing-gown and slippers, with a portable desk and fur robe thrown across his knees even in hot weather, and a cigar between his lips—which was constantly going out and being re-lighted—while the floor all around him was strewed with matches. Latterly, after he became a cripple, the dressing-gown was discarded for a large Norfolk jacket, made from his own sheep’s wool; and he would sit and write at the window in a large arm-chair with an improvised table in front of him resting on his knees, upon which at night he would have a couple of candles placed, the inevitable cigar, matches, and whisky toddy being the accessories.
He had a singular habit of reading in bed, with newspapers, manuscript, and a lighted candle on his pillow. At least a score or more of times he has been found in the morning with the paper burnt to black tinder all round him, but neither himself nor the bed-clothes in the slightest singed.
The Mexican hero was never an idle man; and after his sword was sheathed in its scabbard, his pen never rested. His brain was as active as ever till within a fortnight of his death.
On October 22nd, 1883, Mayne Reid had fought his last battle.
An irregular block of white marble, on which is carved a sword and pen crossing each other, and these words from “The Scalp Hunters:—”
This is the weed prairie,
It is misnamed,
It is the Garden of God,
mark his last resting-place, in Kensal Green Cemetery, London.