At this period the battle raged in its utmost fury; and an active general movement was taking place from right to left of both lines, the enemy retiring, the British pressing forward; and now Sir David Baird also was knocked down, receiving the wound for which he subsequently suffered the amputation of his arm.
On placing Sir John Moore in the blanket in which he was borne to the rear, the hilt of his sword got into the wound; and as they tried to take it away, he declined having it moved, saying, “It may as well remain where it is, for, like the Spartan with his shield, the Briton should be taken out of the field with his sword.” The wound was of the most dreadful nature; the shoulder was shattered, the arm scarcely attached to the body, the ribs over his heart smashed and laid bare.
Thus was Sir John Moore carried to the rear. As he proceeded, perceiving from the direction of the firing that our troops were advancing, he exclaimed, “I hope the people of England will be satisfied.” On being taken to his house in Corunna, he again enquired about the battle, and being assured that the enemy were beaten at all points, exclaimed: “It is great satisfaction to me to know that the French are beaten. I hope my country will do me justice.” Whether this well-founded hope was realised or not let the just and generous determine. He now enquired about the safety of several officers, those of his staff in particular; and he recommended several for promotion whom he considered deserving. This exertion caused a failing in his strength; but on regaining it in a slight degree, addressing his old friend Colonel Anderson, he asked if Paget was in the room. Upon being answered in the negative, he desired to be remembered to him, saying, “He is a fine fellow; ’tis General Paget, I mean.” This was a noble testimonial to that gallant officer’s high character, rendered sacred by the peculiar circumstances in which it was called forth; and it strongly marked the martial spirit and high mind of the dying hero, who, with his body writhing in torture, the veil of eternity fast clouding his vision and his lips quivering in the convulsive spasms of death, sighed forth his last words in admiration of the brave.