Jack had not been mistaken as to the nature of the interview which had just taken place between Sir John Moore and the Secretary of State. It had been of a stormy description.
Sir John, with all his sweetness of disposition, had a fiery temper. And though he habitually held in that temper with so firm a curb that he could be described as "the most amiable man in the British Army," yet there were times when it got the better of him. Those kind eyes could flash with a scathing light, and those lips could pour forth vehement utterances. Perhaps the thing which he was least able patiently to endure was the sense of being unjustly treated.
It may be, too, that at this moment he was physically suffering from the severe strain, not only of his late trying expedition to Sweden, but of the hardly less trying time in Sicily. He may even yet have been under something of reaction from that hard fight, when his own "feelings" had had to be, from a sense of duty, sternly repressed, for the sake of the young girl whom he loved. In a letter, written three or four days later from Portsmouth, to his mother, a note of weariness may be detected, unwonted in Moore. But Rest waited ahead, not far distant; though a fierce experience lay between.
One way or another he did wax wrathful in this interview, and he spoke out his mind with uncompromising frankness. He considered that he had been unhandsomely treated. Coming, as he did, from a chief command, if he were now to be placed in an inferior post, some explanation was his due.
"His Majesty's Ministers have a right to employ what officers they please," Sir John went on, working off his warmth. "But I have a right, in common with all officers who have served zealously, to expect to be treated with attention, and, when employment is offered, that some regard should be paid to my former services."
"I am not aware, Sir John, of having given you just cause for complaint," Castlereagh replied gravely; and he did not say much more. No one, looking on, could have imagined that this cold-mannered Secretary would, not many months later, fight a duel in defence of the fair fame of the gallant General now before him. The famous duel between Castlereagh and Canning is widely known, but its true cause, as asserted by Lady Castlereagh, is less well understood.¹
Moore had said his say, and doubtless felt relieved. He started post-haste for Portsmouth, pausing on the road for one night at his mother's country home.
The parting with her next day was sadder than usual.
¹ "Life of Sir C. Napier," by W. Napier.
Some forebodings may well have suggested themselves to the mother's heart, as she watched that manly figure pass away into the distance. He had been to her the most tender of sons; but on earth she would see him never again.