He was a constant sufferer from the effects of the wound in his leg, and during this brief sojourn in the United States was a patient in Saint Luke"s Hospital, New York, in 1870, suppuration of the thigh having brought him to death"s door. From the hospital he writes:
"To the Editor of the _Sun_.
"Sir,--I have been for some days an inmate of Saint Luke"s Hospital, a sufferer from a severe and dangerous malady. To save my life calls for the highest surgical skill, along with combination of the most favourable circ.u.mstances, among them quiet. And yet during the whole of yesterday, and part of the day before (the Lord"s Day), the air around me has been resonant with what, in the bitterness of my spirit, I p.r.o.nounce a _feu d"enfer_. It has resembled an almost continuous fusillade of small arms, at intervals varied by a report like the bursting of a bombsh.e.l.l or the discharge of a cannon. I am told that this infernal fracas proceeds from a row of dwelling houses in front of this hospital, and that it is caused by the occupants of these dwellings or their children.
"Accustomed in early life to the roar of artillery, my nerves are not easily excited by concussive sounds, and, therefore, I have not been seriously affected by them. But, alas! how different with scores of my fellow-sufferers in the hospital, beside the couch of many of whom death stands waiting for his victim. I am informed by my nurses, intelligent and experienced men, that they have known several cases where death has not only been hastened, but actually caused by the nervous startling and torture inflicted by these Fourth of July celebrations. I have been also informed that the venerable and philanthropic founder of this valuable inst.i.tution has done all in his power to have this cruel infliction stayed, even by personal appeal to the inhabitants of the houses in question, and that he has been met by refusal, and the reply, "We have a right to do as we please upon our own premises." I need not point out the utter falsity of this a.s.sured view of civic rights, but I would remark that the man, who, even under the sanction of long custom, and the pretence of country"s love, permits his children, through mere wanton sport, to murder annually one or more of his fellow citizens, I say that such a man is not likely to make out of these children citizens who will be distinguished either for their patriotism or humanity.
"In the name of humanity I ask you, sir, to call public attention to this great cruelty, and, if possible, have it discontinued.
"Yours very truly,
"Mayne Reid.
"Saint Luke"s Hospital, July 5th, 1870."
He was interviewed in the hospital by a lady, who wrote the following account of her visit to Mayne Reid:
"New York, August 9, 1870.
"My sympathies were enlisted, too, for the brave fellow who has been languishing in Saint Luke"s Hospital. The sole tidings of him was the 4th of July remonstrance, which revealed how his spirit chafed at the seclusion and helplessness incomparably worse than physical pain.
"To find my way, then, to the hospital seemed a part of my pleasure in New York. The gate shut me in with a heavy clang, and I walked up the path to the main building with, I confess, no little trepidation at my boldness. In answer to the request "to see Captain Mayne Reid," I was conducted through a broad hall into a long ward furnished with an infinite number of low, narrow cots, that looked too small for any practical purpose. A turn through a short hall and what appeared to be an apothecary"s closet brought us to the private room of the author. He was lying upon a bedstead (similar to the ones in the ward) which was placed in the centre of the apartment. As he turned his head and raised himself upon his elbow to address me, he presented the view of a middle-aged, st.u.r.dy-looking English squire. The head is compact and covered by a profusion of dark brown hair, which, in contrast with the pallid complexion, stood out as if it had no part and parcel with the corpse-like whiteness of the scalp. The brow was smooth and fair, rounded out to gigantic proportions by ideality, causality and reverence. The nose, nervous and scornful, would have been remarkable but for the large and beautiful eyes, that are restless habitually, but when fixed upon an object have a lancellating effect, and withal an expression of great good heart, that is seconded by one of the most winning smiles I ever beheld. Hands of uncommon grace and beauty somehow complete the charm of his lips and eyes.
"To speak first of matters of most interest to the public, Captain Reid has been suffering from the effects of a gun-shot wound received in the Mexican war, culminating in an abscess which threatened to exhaust his vitality. Recovered from that by the care of one of the most experienced surgeons in America, he was attacked by dysentery, which at the time I saw him had reduced him to a critical condition again.
""I may say truly," he observed, "that I was dead, and am alive. The doctors had given me up, and I felt myself there was no chance. I had the hiccough for hours, and the brandy and water administered gave me no relief. With life slowly ebbing away, and the past and future pa.s.sing in rapid review before my mind, an old recollection flashed before me in the strangest way, that draughts of pure brandy would sometimes arrest hiccoughs. I reached forth my hand for the bottle of brandy that stood on my stand and took a swallow. Instantly it went like fire through my veins, and with another draught my life was saved. I tell it to you for it may be of service to you some time."
"As we talked, the air coming fresh through the open window, laden with the murmur of leaves and twitter of swallows, a light, even step was heard approaching, and a lady came forward, pausing on the threshold.
Oh, but she was fair! with her golden hair caught up under an azure fanchon of satin, and falling in soft ripples over her forehead. There was an expression of firmness in her calm blue eyes which gave character to the face of infantile shape and loveliness. From her face my eye wandered to her figure, struck with admiration at her graceful pose--an accomplishment few women possess. They dance and sometimes walk well, but they rarely know how to stand still. Her gown, I observed, was white, with an overdress or wrap of blue, admirably suited to her peculiar style of beauty.
""My wife," said the invalid, and as he explained that I called because I had read his books she smiled and extended her hand. The smile was like sunshine, and the clasp of her soft, cool hand a positive luxury.
The clear and musical voice was in keeping with her beautiful self, and I loitered for a moment to gather a full impression of the scene."
A few days after this interview a serious relapse took place, and on August 10th, telegrams were sent to his friends: "Captain Mayne Reid is dying." Everything was prepared for his interment, and even an obituary notice was written.
His wife was allowed to stay at the hospital during the night, being told by the doctors that any minute might be her husband"s last. He had been lying in an unconscious state for the past three days, all the signs of approaching dissolution being present. About 8 o"clock on the morning of the 11th he rallied considerably. The doctors and two of the lady nurses were around his bed, when he suddenly raised himself up, exclaiming in a strong voice: "Turn those she-Beelzebubs," pointing to the two ladies, "out of the room at once, preaching at a fellow, and telling him he"s going to die. I"m not going to die. Bring me a beef-steak!"
Every one was astounded, the poor chaplain being nearly frightened out of his wits. The beef-steak was speedily brought in, and the patient made a feint of eating a portion.
From that day the gallant Captain slowly progressed towards recovery, and on September 10th left Saint Luke"s Hospital and sailed for Liverpool in the middle of October, this being his last visit to the country in whose cause he had shed his blood and earned the laurels of war.
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 pa.s.sed 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 "Ca.s.sell"s Ill.u.s.trated 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 Ill.u.s.trated 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 _Sat.u.r.day 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 Ill.u.s.trated Paper_, under the t.i.tle 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 Ill.u.s.trated 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 Ill.u.s.trated Paper_ and other journals during these latter days.