The construction of such an edifice had at that day a distinct object.  These great old manor-houses, lost in the depths of the country, were intended to become the headquarters of the family in all time.  In their large apartments the eldest son was to uphold the name.  Generation after generation was to pass, and some one of the old name still live there; and though all this has passed away now, and may appear a worn-out superstition, and, though some persons may stigmatize it as contributing to the sentiment of “aristocracy,” the strongest opponents of that old system may pardon in us the expression of some regret that this love of the hearthstone and old family memories should have disappeared.  The great man whose character is sought to be delineated in this volume never lost to the last this home and family sentiment.  He knew the kinships of every one, and loved the old country-houses of the old Virginia families—­plain and honest people, attached, like himself, to the Virginia soil.  We pass to a brief description of the old house in which Lee was born.

Stratford, the old home of the Lees, but to-day the property of others, stands on a picturesque bluff on the southern bank of the Potomac, and is a house of very considerable size.  It is built in the form of the letter H. The walls are several feet in thickness; in the centre is a saloon thirty feet in size; and surmounting each wing is a pavilion with balustrades, above which rise clusters of chimneys.  The front door is reached by a broad flight of steps, and the grounds are handsome, and variegated by the bright foliage of oaks, cedars, and maple-trees.  Here and there in the extensive lawn rises a slender and ghostly old Lombardy poplar—­a tree once a great favorite in Virginia, but now seen only here and there, the relic of a past generation.

Within, the Stratford House is as antique as without, and, with its halls, corridors, wainscoting, and ancient mouldings, takes the visitor back to the era of powder and silk stockings.  Such was the mansion to which General Harry Lee came to live after the Revolution, and the sight of the old home must have been dear to the soldier’s heart.  Here had flourished three generations of Lees, dispensing a profuse and open-handed hospitality.  In each generation some one of the family had distinguished himself, and attracted the “best company” to Stratford; the old walls had rung with merriment; the great door was wide open; everybody was welcome; and one could see there a good illustration of a long-passed manner of living, which had at least the merit of being hearty, open-handed, and picturesque.  General Harry Lee, the careless soldier, partook of the family tendency to hospitality; he kept open house, entertained all comers, and hence, doubtless, sprung the pecuniary embarrassments embittering an old age which his eminent public services should have rendered serene and happy.