For argument’s sake, we will suppose that Grouchy adopts the advice of his generals, and commences his march at the time the firing was first heard, about half-past twelve o’clock. On average roads in fair condition, an army of thirty-two thousand men of all arms would take seven hours to march fifteen miles; they had already marched about six miles, as we have seen, over bad roads. From Sart-lez-Walhain to Plancenoit, Napoleon’s right, the distance is about sixteen miles, and over bad roads; how could they have come up in time, and that, without taking into account the obstructions which they must have encountered from the Prussian corps who were scouring the whole of that part of the country? It was utterly impossible for Grouchy, after breaking up his bivac at Gembloux so late as half-past seven o’clock on the morning of the 18th, to prevent the three Prussian corps, who well knew his movements, from forming a junction with us, or from attacking the French right. Had Grouchy left Gembloux at two o’clock A.M., and marched, unmolested by the Prussians, by St.-Guibert and Moustier to St.-Lambert, and taken position near the defiles of the Lasne and St.-Lambert, he might have kept Bulow from attacking the French right, and Napoleon might, before eight o’clock, about which time a brigade of Pirch’s and part of a brigade of Zieten’s corps came up, have attacked Wellington with his whole remaining force. After the unaccountable delay on the 17th, the division of his force by Napoleon appears a false move; for a corps of cavalry would have sufficed to watch the Prussians. Grouchy, unquestionably, was dilatory, and wanting in his former energy and judgment; for though he must have known that the Prussians, or a large portion of them, would attempt their junction with us, he sent out no patrols to ascertain whether the contemplated movement was in operation, and neglected to keep up that which is always so essential, a close communication with the main body of the French army. His whole attention appears to have been directed to his right; the events on his left he entirely neglected. We have stated Napoleon’s anxiety to impute the blame of the failure exclusively to his two marshals. We have endeavoured, in the fair and fearless spirit of military criticism, to examine how far such inculpation is borne out by facts in the case of marshal Grouchy, and we now, in the same impartial manner, propose to analyze the accusation made against the gallant and daring Ney, “the bravest of the brave.” The charges are twofold: delay at Quatre-Bras, and rashness at Waterloo.