this despatch about 3 a.m. of the 18th, and thereupon definitely resolved to offer battle.  A similar message was sent off from Wavre at 9.30 a.m., but with a postscript, in which we may discern Gneisenau’s distrust of Wellington, begging Mueffling to find out accurately whether the Duke really had determined to fight 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 this farm and Hougoumont, and facilitates the approach to that part of the ridge.  In fact, only on their extreme left could the defenders feel much security; for there the slope is steeper, besides being protected in front by marshy ground, copses, and the hamlets of Papelotte, La Haye, and Smohain.