The story of this campaign is too long to be narrated in particular. On both sides it is a record of magnificent valor, endurance, and resolution, to which the world affords no parallel, when it is remembered that the armies were recruited from the free citizenship of the nation. As the weeks and months wore on, General's Grant's visage, it is said, settled into an unrelaxing expression of grim resolve. He carried the nation on his shoulders in those days. If he had wearied or yielded, hope might have vanished. He did not yield nor faint. He planned and toiled and fought, keeping his own counsel, bearing patiently the disappointment, the misunderstanding, the doubt, the criticism, the woe of millions who had no other hope but in his success and were often on the verge of despair. He beheld his plans defeated by the incompetence or errors of subordinates whom he trusted, and let the blame be laid upon himself without protest or murmuring. He knew better than any one else the terrible cost of life which his unrelenting purpose demanded; but he knew also that the price of relenting, involving the discouragement of failure, the cost of another campaign after the enemy had got breath and new equipment, the possible refusal of the North to try again, was far greater and more humiliating. Little wonder that he was oppressed and silent and moody. Yet he ruled his own spirit in accordance with the habit of his life. No folly or disappointment provoked him to utter an oath. General Horace Porter, of his staff, a member of his intimate military family, says that the strongest expression of vexation that ever escaped his lips was: "Confound it!" He alone had the genius to be master of the situation at all times, and the "simple faith in success" that would not let him be swerved from his aim.

So he pressed on from the Wilderness to Spottsylvania, to North Anna, to South Anna, to the Pamunky, to Cold Harbor, to the Chickahominy, fighting and flanking all the way, until at the end of the month he had pressed Lee back to the immediate vicinity of Richmond. The bloodiest of all these battles was the ill-judged attack, for which Grant has been much criticised, on the strongly intrenched rebel lines at Cold Harbor. If he could have dislodged Lee here he could have compelled him to retreat into the immediate fortifications of Richmond. But Lee's position was impregnable: the assault failed. In less than an hour Grant lost 13,000 men killed, wounded, and missing, and gained nothing substantial.

General Butler had signally failed to accomplish the work given him to do. Instead of taking Petersburg, destroying the railroads connecting Richmond with the south, and laying siege to that city, he had, after some ineffectual manoeuvring, got his army hemmed in, "bottled up," Grant called it, at Bermuda Hundred, where he was almost completely out of the offensive movement for months. Sigel had been worsted in the North, and had been relieved by Hunter, who had won measurable success in the Shenandoah Valley.

Grant, checked on the east and north of Richmond, crossed the Chickahominy and the James with his whole army by a series of masterly manoeuvres, regarding the meaning of which his opponent was brilliantly deceived. Then followed the unsuccessful attempt to capture Petersburg before it could be reinforced, unsuccessful by reason of the want of persistence on the part of the general intrusted with the duty. This failure involved a long siege of that place, which the Confederates made impregnable to assault. A breach in the defences was made by the explosion of a mine constructed with vast labor, but there was failure to follow up the advantage with sufficient promptness. Here the Army of the Potomac passed the winter, except the part of the army that was detached to protect Washington from threatened attack, and with which Sheridan made his great fame in the Shenandoah Valley. Meanwhile Sherman, in the West, had taken Atlanta, and leaving Hood's army to be taken care of by Thomas, who defeated it at Nashville, had marched across Georgia, and was making his way through the Carolinas northward toward Richmond, an army under Johnston disputing his way by annoyance, impediment, and occasional battle. Another incident of the winter was the two attempts on Fort Fisher, near Wilmington, North Carolina,—the first, under General Butler, a failure; the second, under General Terry, a brilliant success. All these movements were in execution of plans and directions given by the lieutenant-general.

It was the 29th of March when, all preparations having been made, Grant began the final movement. He threw a large part of his army into the region west of Petersburg and south of Richmond, and at Five Forks, four days later, Sheridan fought a brilliant and decisive battle, which compelled Lee to abandon both Petersburg and Richmond, and to attempt to save his army by running away and joining Johnston. All his movements were baffled by the eager Union generals, flushed with the consciousness that the end was near.

On the 7th of April Grant wrote to Lee: "I regard it as my duty to shift from myself responsibility for any further effusion of human blood by asking of you the surrender of that portion of the Confederate States army, known as the Army of Northern Virginia." Lee replied at once, asking the terms that would be offered on condition of surrender. His letter reached Grant on the 8th, who replied: "Peace being my great desire, there is but one condition I would insist upon, namely: that the men and officers surrendered shall be disqualified for taking up arms again against the government of the United States until properly exchanged." He offered to meet Lee or any officers deputed by him for arranging definite terms. Lee replied the same evening somewhat evasively, setting forth that he desired to treat for peace, and that the surrender of his army would be considered as a means to that end.

To this Grant responded on the 9th, having set his army in motion to Appomattox Court House, that he had no authority to treat for peace; but added some plain words to the effect that the shortest road to peace would be surrender. Lee immediately asked for an interview. Grant received this communication while on the road, and returned word that he would push on and meet him wherever he might designate. When Grant arrived at the village of Appomattox Court House he was directed to a small house where Lee awaited him. Within a short time the conditions were drafted by Grant and accepted by Lee, who was grateful that the officers were permitted to keep their side-arms, and officers and men to retain the horses which they owned and their private baggage.

The number of men surrendered at Appomattox was 27,416. During the ten days' previous fighting 22,079 of Lee's army had been captured, and about 12,000 killed and wounded. It is estimated that as many as 12,000 deserted on the road to Appomattox. From May 1, 1864, to April 9, 1865, the Armies of the Potomac and the James took 66,512 prisoners and captured 245 flags, 251 guns, and 22,633 stands of small arms. Their losses from the Wilderness to Appomattox were 12,561 killed, 64,452 wounded, and 26,988 missing, an aggregate of 104,001.

It would be idle adulation to say that in all points during this long conflict with Lee General Grant always did the best thing, making no mistakes. The essential point is, and it suffices to establish, his military fame on secure foundations, that he made no fatal mistake, that progress toward the great result in view was constant, slower than he expected, slower than the country expected, but finally everywhere victorious, substantially on the lines contemplated in the beginning. After Lee's experience in the Wilderness and at Spottsylvania he seldom assumed the offensive against Grant. He became prudent, adopted a defensive policy, fought behind intrenchments or just in front of fortifications to which he could retire for safety, and waited to be attacked. Watchful and alert as he was, he was deceived by Grant oftener than he deceived him, and except that he managed to postpone the end by skillful tactics, he did not challenge the military superiority of his foe. He made Grant's victory costly and difficult, but he did not prevent it. He retreated with desperate reluctance, but he was forced back. He could not protect his capital; he could not save his army. When Lee measured powers with Grant, his cause was lost.

There are incidents of the campaign that mitigate its stern and in some sense savage features. When the imperturbable soldier learned of the death of his dear friend McPherson, who fell in one of Sherman's battles, he retired to his tent and wept bitterly. When Lincoln, visiting Grant at City Point, before the general departed on what was expected to be the last stage of the campaign, said to him that he had expected he would order Sherman's army to reinforce the Army of the Potomac for the final struggle, the reply was that the Army of the Potomac had fought the Army of Virginia through four long years, and it would not be just to require it to share the honors of victory with any other army. It was observed that when he bade good-by to his wife at this departure his adieus, always affectionate, were especially tender and lingering, as if presentiment of a crisis in his life oppressed him. Lincoln accompanied him to the train. "The President," said Grant, after they had parted, "is one of the few who have not attempted to extract from me a knowledge of my movements, although he is the only one who has a right to know them." Long before, Lincoln had written to him: "The particulars of your campaign I neither know nor seek to know. I wish not to intrude any restraints or constraints upon you." Grant's reply to this confidence was: "Should my success be less than I desire or expect, the least I can say is, the fault is not yours." These two understood each other by a magnanimous sympathy that had no need of particular confidences. That Lincoln respected Grant as one whom it was not becoming for him to presume to question is in itself impressive evidence of Grant's greatness.