The surgeon and his assistants conducted themselves admirably on this terrible day, and displayed a zeal equal to every emergency, combined with an activity which delighted the Emperor so much, that several times, in passing near them, he called them “my brave surgeons.”  M. Larrey above all was sublime.  After having attended to all the wounded of the guard, who were crowded together on the Island of Lobau, he asked if there was any broth to give them.  “No,” replied the assistants.  “Have some made,” said he, “have some made of that group,” pointing to several horses near him; but these horses belonged to a general, and when it was attempted to carry out M. Larrey’s orders, the owner indignantly refused to allow them to be taken.  “Well, take mine then,” said the brave soldier, “and have them killed, in order that my comrades may have broth.”  This was done; and as no pots could be found on the island it was boiled in helmets, and salted with cannon powder in place of salt.  Marshal Massena tasted this soup, and thought it very good.  One hardly knows which to admire most,—­the zeal of the surgeons, the courage with which they confronted danger in caring for the wounded on the field of battle, and even in the midst of the conflict; or the stoical constancy of the soldiers, who, lying on the ground, some without an arm, some without a leg, talked over their campaigns with each other while waiting to be operated on, some even going so far as to show excessive politeness.  “M.  Docteur, begin with my neighbor; he is suffering more than I. I can wait.”

A cannoneer had both legs carried away by a ball; two of his comrades picked him up and made a litter with branches of trees, on which they placed him in order to convey him to the island.  The poor mutilated fellow did not utter a single groan, but murmured, “I am very thirsty,” from time to time, to those who bore him.  As they passed one of the bridges, he begged them to stop and seek a little wine or brandy to restore his strength.  They believed him, and did as he requested, but had not gone twenty steps when the cannoneer called to them, “Don’t go so fast, my comrades; I have no legs, and I will reach the end of my journey sooner than you.  ‘Vive la France;’” and, with a supreme effort, he rolled off into the Danube.

The conduct of a surgeon-major of the guard, some time after, came near compromising the entire corps in his Majesty’s opinion.  This surgeon, M. M——­, lodged with General Dorsenne and some superior officers in a pretty country seat, belonging to the Princess of Lichtenstein, the concierge of the house being an old German who was blunt and peculiar, and served them with the greatest repugnance, making them as uncomfortable as possible.  In vain, for instance, they requested of him linen for the beds and table; he always pretended not to hear.