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. CHAPTER XV IN WASHINGTON AMONG POLITICIANS