Had he been a Catholic, the commander of the Army of Northern Virginia, self-effacing in victory and noble in defeat, would likely today be known as St. Robert of Appomattox, idol as he was of his people, their lodestar. It is not so easy to be the daughter of a saint, idol, lodestar.
Robert E. Lee was a wonderful father to his young children. He taught them to ride, bought sleds and skates, had them learn to swim, competed in their jumping contests, was intensely involved in their studies. Telling lively and entertaining stories—he liked to be tickled and would say, “No tickling, no stories”—and showing how step-by-step solutions could be found for school-book problems, he was always cheery and with a bright smile that, Robert Jr. remembered, characterized him for his boys and girls.
The children turned into adults. The general adored his son Rooney’s wife, and he was forever asking friends to find a suitable match for his youngest son: “You see, there is no Mrs. R. E. Lee, Jr. Cannot you persuade some of those pretty girls in Baltimore to take compassion on a poor bachelor?”