In a desperate action, on the 20th of March, Moore was a second time wounded in the leg, and as before he fought on, disregarding it. Abercromby too was shot in the thigh, and did not even mention the fact until the victory was won. The two friends never met again; for Abercromby died of his wound before Moore was able to go to him.
On the Peace of Amiens, Moore returned to England, in time to see his father, who was dying of old age and heart disease. The doctor's property was left between his wife and his six children; and Moore, not content with his mother's jointure, insisted on giving her an additional annuity.
Thus for years the name of John Moore had been incessantly before the British public, as the bravest of the brave; having become by this time the one name, before any other save that of Nelson, to which in the hour of peril his countrymen would turn.
What was it about this remarkable man which so riveted the hearts of others to him? Not the hearts of women only, though in truth his mother and sister idolised him. But vigorous men, stern soldiers, poured upon him a very passion of devotion. Denham Ivor was one, Jack Keene was another, among scores who looked upon John Moore as the living embodiment of all that a soldier and a gentleman ought to be, who loved him with unbounded ardour.
Buonaparte was worshipped, and was followed unto death by his soldiers, as a great captain. Moore, in addition to being so followed, was loved as a man, with that love which men only give to strong men, and not to many among them.
Wherever Moore turned, he found this love. His own brothers lavished it upon him. The Duke of Hamilton was his fervent friend for life. Anderson was to him as Jonathan to David. The three gallant Napiers, Charles, George, and William, adored him. His French servant, Francois, forgot home and country for his sake. Private soldiers were ready to rush upon certain death, if so they might save his life. Officers of rank, working with him, became almost inevitably his personal friends. The younger officers, under his command and training, so caught the infection of his high spirit, so responded to the influence of "their hero," that by dozens in after years they became prominent characters in the Army and leaders in the Nation. He has been truly called "a king among men."
No doubt his striking personal appearance, his indescribable charm of manner, perhaps too his brilliant and witty conversational powers, had something to do with his influence. But those things which really lay at the foundation of this extraordinary control over others were, mainly, the force of his character, the vivid enthusiasm of his purpose, the loftiness of his ideals, the simple grandeur of his life.
He had his enemies. No truly great man, who does not stoop to pander to the littlenesses of little men, ever fails to make some enemies. It could not be otherwise. Jealousy alone was sure to turn some against him. Moreover, his inviolable integrity, his blameless name, the splendid disdain with which he spurned everything false and mean—such qualities as these in Moore made some of a baser type turn from and even turn against one who was so infinitely more noble than themselves. But to men of a higher and purer stamp Moore was, as the Bayard of the Middle Ages had been to a former generation, a knight sans peur et sans reproche, a model upon which they might seek to shape themselves.
With Ivor, as with many another, to have known Moore was to have been imbued for life with new aims, new ideals, new views of duty, new thoughts of self-abnegation. Not so much from what John Moore might here or there have said, as from what he always was. To be under the man was in itself an inspiration.
Soon after Jack's departure for Sandgate, Admiral Peirce was called away on duty; and the Bryces decided to flit eastward. Mrs. Bryce, who loved sensation, talked of a visit to Folkestone, a tiny watering-place in those days, but within reach of Sandgate and of Moore's camp at Shorncliffe; and she offered to take Polly with her. Polly had kept up bravely under her separation from Ivor; but her pretty face had lost some of its colour, and the change might do her good. Polly of course was charmed. Who would not have been in her place? She would see Jack again, also Jack's Commander and England's Hero, General Moore. She would be in the thick of all that was going on, and would learn the news of the hour at first-hand.