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The Monday Morning Memo

Abraham Lincoln's dream of freeing captive Africans
caused him to be compared to Don Quixote. This 1861 etching of
Lincoln as Quixote hangs in the National Portrait Gallery at the Smithsonian.

Lincoln, holding a quill pen, has made a list of Union defeats; his inkwell is in the shape of an artillery mortar. His foot rests irreverently on a stack of books labeled “Constitution,” “Law,” and “Habeas Corpus.” Beside the legs of Lincoln’s chair lie a rail and an ax, allusions to his humble origins, and resting against the seat back is a John Brown pike, a symbol associating Lincoln with abolition and anarchy. The picture on the wall is General Winfield Scott, Lincoln’s first commander of the army, covered in feathers. Scott was known to his detractors as 'Old Fuss and Feathers.''

The etching was made by Adalbert Volck.
Volck did not like Lincoln.

Some people read Don Quixote
and conclude he was a madman, a fool,
an object of ridicule.

Others, like Thomas (Tommy) Jefferson
and Theodore Roosevelt,
read Don Quixote and are inspired by him.

 

 

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Random Quote:

“That was how the Count and his sister would brave the cold on Christmas Eve. Promising their grandmother that they would be no later than midnight, the siblings would set out on their troika into the crisp night air to call on their neighbors. With the Count at the reins and the pelt of a wolf on their laps, they would cut across the lower pasture to the village road, where the Count would call: Who shall it be first? The Bobrinskys? Or the Davidovs?

But whether they ventured to the one, the other, or somewhere else entirely, there would be a feast, a fire, and open arms. There would be bright dresses, and flushed skin, and sentimental uncles making misty-eyed toasts as children spied from the stairs. And music? There would be songs that emptied your glass and called you to your feet. Songs that led you to leap and alight in a manner that belied your age. Songs that made you reel and spin until you lost your bearings not only between the parlor and the salon, but between heaven and earth.”

- A Gentleman in Moscow, p. 88-89

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