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Updated: May 3, 2025
The red glow of the fire around him enabled him to see distinctly what was written on it, . . there were about twenty lines of verse, in exquisitely clear and fine caligraphy, ... and, as he read, he knew them well, . . they were the last lines of the poem "Nourhalma"!
I was myself inclined to think that I had better go back to the school in Brussels. But nevertheless I went to work, and under the surveillance of my elder brother made a beautiful transcript of four or five pages of Gibbon. With a faltering heart I took these on the next day to the office. With my caligraphy I was contented, but was certain that I should come to the ground among the figures.
Miss Harper was lying as usual, but had a writing-case before her, and it was astonishing what neat caligraphy those weak childish-looking fingers could execute. It resembled the writer's own mind clear, delicate, well-arranged, exact. "We are not come to stay very long; but do we interrupt you, Elizabeth?" "Never, Anne, dear! I was only writing to Frederick. He is gone abroad, you are aware?"
One of these was the teaching of Mahomet forbidding animal representation in design a rule which in later work has been relaxed; another was the introduction of mathematics into Persia by the Saracens, which led to the adoption of geometrical patterns in design; and a third, the development of "Caligraphy" into a fine art, which has resulted in the introduction of a text, or motto, into so many of the Persian designs of decorative work.
It was a small and beautiful handwriting, yet the letters were more clear and bold than they usually are in feminine caligraphy. "Ernest Maltravers," began this singular effusion, "have you weighed yourself? Are you aware of your capacities? Do you feel that for you there may be a more dazzling reputation that that which appears to content you?
He put it down hastily as she entered, and remembering his former indifference, she enquired laughingly if he was trying to discover the writer's character from her caligraphy.
At one period I spent many hours a day practising caligraphy with some of his lines for a model "Oh, I shall never be able to write like you," I once said to him, in despair "Let us swap, then," he replied, gaily.. "Give me your mind for learning and I shall let you have my handwriting." "Pshaw! Yours is a better mind than mine, too." "No, it is not," he returned, and resumed his reading.
An appeal for funds for a memorial to someone or another followed. Then two advertisements from wine merchants and a statement of his account with his outfitter were consigned in turns into the fire. The last envelope, in the unknown hand, he scrutinised for a moment before opening. The postmark was local, the caligraphy illiterate. He opened the letter and read it with an inscrutable face.
He was gone and Brendon read the letter again, studied its neat caligraphy, and observed that a tear had blotted the middle of the sheet. Once more he said "damn" to himself, dropped his fishing basket and rod, turned up the collar of his mackintosh, and walked to the police station, where he heard a little of the matter in hand from a constable and then asked for permission to use the telephone.
Now it so happened that Vaudemont, having never merged the art of the penman into that rapid scrawl into which people, who are compelled to write hurriedly and constantly, degenerate, wrote a remarkably good hand, bold, clear, symmetrical almost too good a hand for one who was not to make money by caligraphy.
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