at Waterloo. Meanwhile Buelow's corps had begun its march from
the south-east of Wavre, but with extreme slowness, which was due to a
fire at Wavre, to the crowded state of the narrow road, and also to
the misgivings of Gneisenau. It certainly was not owing to fear of
Grouchy; for at that time the Prussian leaders believed that only
15,000 French were on their track. Not until midday, when the
cannonade on the west grew to a roar, did Gneisenau decide to send
forward Ziethen's corps towards Ohain, on Wellington's left; but
thereafter the defence of the Dyle against Grouchy was left solely to
Thielmann's corps.[505]

While this storm was brewing in the east, everything in front of the
Emperor seemed to portend a prosperous day. High as he rated
Wellington's numbers, he had no doubt as to the result. "The enemy's
army," he remarked just after breakfast, "outnumbers ours by more than
a fourth; nevertheless we have ninety chances out of a hundred in our
favour." Ney, who then chanced to come in, quickly remarked: "No
doubt, sire, if Wellington were simple enough to wait for you; but I
come to inform you that he is retreating." "You have seen wrong," was
the retort, "the time is gone for that." Soult did not share his
master's assurance of victory, and once more begged him to recall some
of Grouchy's force; to which there came the brutal reply: "Because you
have been beaten by Wellington you think him a great general. And I
tell you that Wellington is a bad general, that the English are bad
troops, and that this will be the affair of a _dejeuner_." "I hope it
may," said Soult. Reille afterwards came in, and, finding how
confident the Emperor was, mentioned the matter to D'Erlon, who
advised his colleague to return and caution him. "What is the use,"
rejoined Reille; "he would not listen to us."

In truth, Napoleon was in no mood to receive advice. He admitted on
the voyage to St. Helena that "he had not exactly reconnoitred
Wellington's position."[506] And, indeed, there seemed to be nothing
much to reconnoitre. The Mont St. Jean, or Waterloo, position does not
impress the beholder with any sense of strength. The so-called valley,
separating the two arrays, is a very shallow depression, nowhere more
than fifty feet below the top of the northern slope. It is divided
about halfway across by an undulation that affords good cover to
assailants about to attack La Haye Sainte. Another slight rise crosses
the vale halfway between