Korczak’s Calligraphy and the Treble Clef
The fragment of the text above comes from Janusz Korczak’s letter to Estera Budko, dated March 7, 1926. Four letters in this passage stand out as the most intriguing elements of his handwriting. Korczak wrote in a specific variation of nineteenth-century cursive, highly individualized, which was shaped both by the classic pre-war school penmanship (and likely the Cyrillic alphabet from his gymnasium days) and the sheer haste of recording a torrent of crowding thoughts.
These four intriguing letters are, above all: the capital letter "P" which resembles a treble clef, the letters "m" and "n", both written with overhead bars, and the letter "ż" which looks like a crossed-out section sign (§).
Anatomy of These Four Letters, Their Execution, and the Fascinating History of the Mysterious Bars
The Capital Letter „P” (Like a Treble Clef)
The letter „P” as executed by Korczak resembles a dynamic, expressive calligraphic gesture. Korczak would begin writing this letter precisely from its center—the loop or the "belly". The movement of the pen started with a small central loop, after which the nib arched upward and to the left, forming a wide, rounded crown. Only from there, with a swift downward stroke, did he draw the vertical stem (the shaft) of the letter, concluding it with a sweeping lower flourish. Korczak routinely used this simplified, capital sign „P” in the middle of words (which is perfectly visible in the sample word "Pani", but also in his other manuscripts, where it replaces the lowercase „p”). This stemmed from pure pragmatism and the ergonomics of writing with a steel nib—the fluid movement of the "treble clef" allowed him to write faster without lifting his hand, whereas the traditional lowercase „p” required more angular changes of direction. So much for using a capital P instead of a lowercase letter.
The Letters „m” and „n” with Horizontal Bars (Macrons)
The horizontal bars (macrons) over the letters „m” and „n” are neither an accident nor a personal whim of the Doctor. It is a classic element of ancient paleography and chancery abbreviations. This mark derives directly from medieval manuscripts and the Renaissance and nineteenth-century bureaucratic practice. In old scripts (both in Latin, German, and Polish), a horizontal bar over a vowel or consonant indicated an abbreviation (a so-called suspension)—most frequently signaling that a double letter had been written as a single one (e.g., a bar over „m” originally meant „mm”).
With time, in the 19th and early 20th centuries, the macron over „m” and „n” began to serve a legibility function. In fast school cursive, written with an elastic steel nib, letters composed of vertical downstrokes (such as u, n, m, i) would blend into an illegible sequence of wavy lines (the so-called "picket fence"). Placing a horizontal bar over „m” and „n” was meant to immediately signal to the reader’s eye: “Attention, this is specifically the letter m/n, not a cluster of i/u letters.” Korczak, as a doctor and a writer creating at an immense pace, used this technique instinctively to ensure his dynamic handwriting remained legible to the recipient.
The Letter „ż” as a Crossed-Out Section Sign
This letter is further evidence of Korczak succumbing to the influences of old calligraphy, especially the German bureaucratic script (Kurrent/Sütterlin), which he encountered as a student and medical doctor during the partitions and his internships in Berlin. When writing it, the movement began from the upper loop, which descended in a wavy, vertical line, creating the shape of an elongated letter „S” or a section sign (§). At the very end, Korczak would lift the pen and, with a decisive stroke, cross out the stem of the letter with a horizontal bar. Why did he write it this way? In classical Polish script, the dot over the „ż” required lifting the pen high above the baseline. A single crossing stroke across the letter (instead of placing a dot) was far faster and more natural. This shape also eliminated the risk of the dot bleeding into a blotch or going unnoticed.
In my view, the letter „ż” in Korczak’s execution is a direct hybrid of the Polish character, nineteenth-century calligraphy, and the lowercase, written letter „з” (z) from the Russian Cyrillic alphabet.
The sample of the entire letter perfectly demonstrates this phenomenon, which in Korczak’s case had deep biographical and historical roots. Presumably, the traditional Polish lowercase „ż” (or „z”) required drawing a broken, zigzag shape, which during rapid writing with a pen indeed turned into an illegible "picket fence", blending with other letters. Meanwhile, written Cyrillic offered a far more ergonomic solution. The Russian lowercase „з” is drawn in one fluid motion: an upper rounding, followed by a lower loop descending below the baseline. Korczak, instead of placing a dot over the Polish „z”, borrowed this rounded Russian shape with the bottom loop, and for total clarity that it stood for the Polish „ż”, he cut through its center with a horizontal bar.
This is perfectly visible in the third and fourth lines of the letter in the word „że” (written as „że porozmawiałem”) and (written as „nie leżało w niej”). This letter looks almost identical to the written Russian „з” or the aforementioned section sign.
My other observations concern letters with long lower elements (p, j, g, y) and the specific „ę”, which strike perfectly at the core of this script's psychology. In graphology, the rightward direction represents the future, the goal, reaching out to another human being, and the realization of thought. In Korczak's writing, this momentum is almost organic. When we look at the lower loops of the letters p, g, j, y, instead of the classic, school-taught return of the loop upward to close it on the left side, Korczak abruptly cuts off the movement at the bottom and flings the nib (or pencil) sharply at an angle to the right, toward the next letter. This is perfectly visible in words such as „zorganizować” (the letter g) or „tygodni” (the letter y). Korczak is in a hurry; there is no time to close the form—the letter is meant to be merely a signpost for the running thought. Similarly, the lower stroke of the letter p (e.g., in the words „imprezą”, „powróci”, „sprawa”) does not stop vertically. It escapes to the right, creating a dynamic, oblique vector that literally pushes the entire word forward.
The Ogonkek-Bearing „ę” as an Integrated Flourish
I paid special attention to the letter „ę”. It is so characteristic of Korczak's rapid writing. In traditional Polish calligraphy, the diacritic hook (the ogonkek) was appended as a separate element after completing the main body of the letter. For Korczak, however, such lifting of the hand from the paper was a waste of time and an unnecessary brake. Therefore, his ę features an ogonek that is an integral, and most importantly, fluid downward continuation of the line. The nib performs only one uninterrupted motion: it creates the somewhat incomplete arch of the letter „e”, descends smoothly beneath the line, and concludes with a small, hurried, semicircular flourish—naturally to the right, toward the next letter in the word. Korczak’s script is the writing of a man who eliminates every superfluous gesture from his notation to synchronize the hand with the workings of the brain; this is evident, among other things, in the spelling of the word „się”, where he does not lift the pen from the paper!
Anatomy of Three More Letters: r, K, and u
My recent return to the unpublished manuscripts from the archive brought further striking graphological discoveries. To the existing "big four" (P, m, n, ż), we must append three more highly specific elements that definitively seal the unique calligraphic profile of the Doctor.
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| Korczak's capital letter R (here in the girls´ name Ruchcia). The latter R resembles a V. Please observe as well that under every lowercase „u” Korczak consistently placed a characteristic lower arch or underline stroke - u. In the same way, he consistently placed horizontal bars (macrons) over „m” and „n” . Korczak also uses a capital P instead of a lowercase letter p, he writes "Pracy" instead of "pracy". |
The Lowercase Letter „r” as a Dynamic „V”
In Korczak's dynamic, hurried script, the lowercase letter „r” almost completely lost its traditional, school-taught shape with a loop or a horizontal flag. The Doctor drew it with two swift, straight lines that converged sharply at the bottom. As a result, throughout the text, the lowercase „r” looks virtually identical to the Latin letter „V”. This is the classic habit of a man whose speed of writing is desperately trying to keep pace with the hurricane momentum of his own thoughts.
The Capital Letter „K”: The Dualism of Broken and Continuous Movement
The construction of the capital letter „K” in Korczak's writing is another absolute graphological anomaly, which, depending on the context and haste, manifests in two entirely different motor forms:
- The Capital „K” Drawn with a Triple Movement: In the dense, hurried flow of continuous text, the movement of the pen began with drawing a dynamic shape resembling the letter „V”. Then, instead of an angular transition to the right, the Doctor abruptly broke the nib away from the paper, after which he placed a short, entirely autonomous, curved tail (a hook) just below the right arm of that original sign. This broken, triple rhythm of constructing the letter within sentences is a permanent motor signature of Henryka Goldszmit.
- The Capital „K” Drawn with a Single Movement: The construction of the capital letter „K” drawn with a single movement without lifting the pen has a completely different, integrated character. It appears consistently in the Doctor's official signature at the end of documents, as well as at the very beginning, in the salutations of letters written by him. Perfect examples of this are intimate or direct address forms, such as „Kochany Józku” (in letters to Józef Halpern) or in the presented letter to Arie Buchner: „Kochany Panie”. Here, the capital „K” is sweeping, fluid, with a wide starting loop that, without a second of hesitation, moves downward and immediately connects with the following letter.
The Archaic Bar UNDER the Letter „u”
While Korczak placed horizontal bars above the letters „m” and „n” to improve the readability of the "picket fence", under every lowercase „u” he consistently placed a characteristic lower arch or underline stroke. This deeply rooted habit served to unmistakably distinguish „u” from „n” in old, nineteenth-century bureaucratic and medical calligraphy.
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| The construction of the capital letter „K” drawn with a single movement without lifting the pen has a completely different, integrated character. It appears consistently in the Doctor's official signature at the end of documents, as well as at the very beginning, in the salutations of letters written by him. |
Wide Corridors (Interline)
In many letters, Korczak maintains large, gigantic distances between lines, which I have written about previously when mentioning his patchwork of capital P letters. These wide, bright spaces between the rows of pencil show that this haste was not chaos—it was a magnificently organized haste.
Korczak’s manuscripts are a fascinating record of an era—on one hand, full of rigorous habits carried over from a nineteenth-century school, on the other—supremely dynamic, subordinated to the need for immediate recording of thoughts on paper.
Korczak’s way of drawing digits and dates is also highly distinctive, looking at the number 7 in the upper right corner.
Graphology as a Form of "Failed" Stenography, or the Drama of the "Too Slow" Hand
What I analyzed in Korczak's letters to Estera Budko—those abruptly severed loops of the letters p, j, g, y escaping to the right, and the integrated hooks in the letter ę—is nothing less than a subconscious attempt to create his own shorthand system. Korczak did not know official stenographic signs, but his brain worked at the speed of a hurricane. Therefore, traditional, calligraphic school script with its embellishments was a terrible brake for him. His graphology is in reality a struggle with matter: he deliberately simplified letter forms, joined them into a single line, and shortened hand movements, if only to get closer to the running speed of his own thoughts. This "sweepingness" was his private, intuitive shorthand.
Igor Newerly – The Doctor’s Human „Seismograph”
Since Korczak himself could not write as fast as he thought (which is proven by this ink abandoned in haste in favor of a pencil), employing the 22-year-old Igor Newerly was a salvation for him.
Jarosław Abramow's recollection reveals a brilliant paradox: Newerly, thanks to his proficiency in stenographing the proceedings of the Sejm, became the only man who could keep up with the „Old Doctor”. By hiring a secretary who knew shorthand, Korczak gained freedom; he no longer had to tire his hand with a nib or a pencil. He could walk around the room and pour out torrents of sentences, while Newerly, using lightning-fast, geometric shorthand symbols, froze those thoughts on paper. For Newerly, as he himself recalls, it was a "writing school"—he learned the structure of a text straight from the living, pulsing mind of the master.
„Every educator should know shorthand” is a quote by Korczak from the weekly Pion (October 19, 1935), which represents an absolute revolution in thinking about pedagogy. Why did Korczak insist so heavily that this tool is indispensable for an educator? Korczak knew that a child speaks under the influence of impulse and emotion, in an abrupt and unfettered manner. Traditional notation using traditional script causes the adult to lose half the words, filtering and distorting them. Shorthand allowed the pedagogue to literally, photographically record the living word of the child, without losing its unique dynamics.
The Stenographer in „Mały Przegląd”
This symbiosis found its finale on Nowolipki Street. The fact that a professional stenographer from Nasz Przegląd came to the editorial office of Mały Przegląd once a week so that children could dictate their texts to him was a brilliant move. Korczak removed the technical barrier from the children. Young children, who wrote poorly, made mistakes, or wrote terribly slowly, gained a "superpower"—they could speak as fast as they wanted, and a professional adult system recorded their thoughts as fully fledged articles.
