The Battle of Bull Run in 1861, Pope's campaign, and Burnside's defeat
at Fredericksburg in 1862, and, lastly, Hooker's unsuccessful attempt at
Chancellorsville in the spring of 1863, had shown how hard a road to
Richmond this was to travel. Repeatedly, as we tried it and failed, the
hopes of the Confederacy rose exultant; the heart of the North sank as
often, heavy with despair. McClellan's Peninsular route had resulted
still more fatally. We all remember the anguish and anxiety of those
days. But the heart of the North shook off its despair, listened to no
timid counsels; it was growing fierce and obdurate. We no longer
received the news of defeat with cries of dismay, with teeth close-set,
a smile upon the quivering lips, and a burning fire within. Had the
Rebels triumphed again? Then so much the worse for them! Had we been
once more repulsed with slaughter from their strong line of defences?
Was the precious blood poured out before them all in vain? At last it
should not be in vain! Though it should cost a new thirty years' war and
a generation of lives, the red work we had begun must be completed;
ultimate failure was impossible, ultimate triumph certain.

This inflexible spirit found it embodiment in the leader of the final
campaigns against the Rebel capital. It was the deep spirit of humanity
itself, ready to make the richest sacrifices, calm, determined,
inexorable, moving steadily towards the great object to be achieved. It
has been said that General Grant did not consider the lives of his men.
Then the people did not consider them. But the truth lies here: precious
as were those lives, something lay beyond far more precious, and they
were the needful price paid for it. We had learned the dread price, we
had duly weighed the worth of the object to be purchased: what, then,
was the use of hesitating and higgling?

We were approaching the scene of Grant's first great blow aimed at the
gates of the Rebel capital. On the field of Chancellorsville you already
tread the borders of the field of the Wilderness,--if that can be called
a field which is a mere interminable forest, slashed here and there with
roads.

Passing straight along the plank road, we came to a large farm-house,
which had been gutted by soldiers, and but recently reoccupied. It was
still in a scarcely habitable condition. However, we managed to obtain,
what we stood greatly in need of, a cup of cold water. I observed that
it tasted strongly of i