Top 12 Essays Analyzing the Character of the Warden in 'The Calligraphy of a Prisoner' by Nguyễn Tuân

Throughout his lifelong journey in pursuit of beauty, Nguyễn Tuân has become a quintessential figure in modern Vietnamese literature. With his profound knowledge and masterful artistic talent, he has left behind numerous literary works that hold significant value for Vietnamese literature, and 'Chữ người tử tù' is one such work. In this piece, alongside the appearance of Huấn Cao – a talented and erudite man – the prison warden, with his admirable qualities, is also a character worthy of great attention.

The short story 'Chữ người tử tù' is an excerpt from the collection 'Vang bóng một thời'. Initially titled 'Dòng chữ cuối cùng', it was first published in the 'Tao Đàn' magazine in 1938. When included in the collection, the story was renamed 'Chữ người tử tù'. It tells the poignant encounter between two individuals with entirely opposite fates: Huấn Cao, a condemned prisoner, and the prison warden. Through the warden’s kindness and sincerity, Huấn Cao agrees to grant his request for a calligraphy lesson. The story depicts a unique scene of calligraphy being shared in a cramped, filthy prison cell, culminating in a deeply moving conclusion that resonates with the reader.

Describing the warden, he is a middle-aged man 'with graying hair and beard'. Nguyễn Tuân paints his face as calm, composed, and benevolent, with a description of 'the stillness of spring water, serene, discreet, and gentle'. His appearance is undeniably attractive, and his thoughtful expression reveals a quiet contemplation after learning about the six condemned prisoners, including Huấn Cao, 'the leader of the rebels', who is renowned for 'writing quickly and beautifully'. With his vast experience and 'gentle nature', the warden emerges as an exceptional figure in the prison, in stark contrast to the 'cruel and deceitful' people surrounding him.

Besides being a man of 'gentle nature', the warden possesses a deep inner world. Upon discovering that Huấn Cao is not only famous for his calligraphy but also a man of great righteousness, yet one of the most serious offenders in the kingdom, the warden is overwhelmed with sorrow. Nguyễn Tuân cleverly compares the prison society to 'a chaotic, tumultuous symphony', with the warden being likened to a clear sound 'breaking through that dissonant melody'.

The most admirable trait of the warden is his love for beauty and his rare appreciation for talent. Despite being in a prison, Huấn Cao’s presence awakens the warden’s desire to 'have a couplet' written by him hanging in his own home. His love for beauty extends to his respect for those who create it, and he continues to send 'wine and meat to the scribe', showing increasing generosity. His admiration for beauty and respect for the artist leads him to 'treat' the condemned man with kindness, an action that could jeopardize his position or even his life. The warden 'treats' Huấn Cao with care even when being dismissed by him, 'What do you want? I just want you to never step foot in here again.' Despite this rebuff, he never complains, and the food brought to Huấn Cao becomes even more generous than before.

The warden always hopes for Huấn Cao to soften his temper so that he can finally express his wish. Although he chose the wrong profession, what other prison guard in the world could possess such a pure heart and such a profound love for beauty? His love for beauty is further reflected in the 'heartache' he feels knowing that Huấn Cao will soon be executed and he may never receive the calligraphy he longs for. But fortunately, through the scribe’s words, Huấn Cao understands the warden’s heartfelt wish and agrees to grant his request. It is the warden’s noble character that touches Huấn Cao, who says: 'I feel the noble heart of your people. How could I have known that a man like you, the warden, would have such a noble preference? I almost failed to recognize a soul like yours.'

The story’s depiction of the warden’s noble soul and his deep appreciation for beauty brings about a truly extraordinary scene of calligraphy. Set in the grim and dirty prison, this encounter is likened to a meeting between a heroic artist and a soul who truly appreciates talent. This rare and remarkable scene highlights the story’s theme that beauty and goodness will always triumph over evil, no matter the circumstances.

The successful portrayal of the warden’s extraordinary and novel beauty in the dark confines of the prison reflects Nguyễn Tuân’s lifelong pursuit of beauty. Throughout the work, we not only encounter contrast and opposition but also witness Nguyễn Tuân’s clever use of painting and sculpture techniques, which contribute to the story's allure. With just a few distinctive strokes, Nguyễn Tuân masterfully portrays a character with a noble soul and a high ideal in the eyes of the reader.

It can be said that, along with Huấn Cao, the warden also contributes to the story’s theme and to Nguyễn Tuân’s vision, emphasizing that beauty and goodness will always triumph over the ugly and vile in life.

'Chữ người tử tù' is an excellent work by Nguyễn Tuân, and it is one of my favorite pieces. I completely disagree with the article by Trần Hà Nam when he comments on this work and the character of the prison warden. Perhaps due to my limited age and knowledge compared to the author, I still wish to share a few of my own thoughts. As the author introduces, the warden is someone who has 'studied the classics of great thinkers,' a man of integrity, described as 'a clear sound piercing through a symphony where the music is chaotic and disordered' – a point emphasized by the author.

The warden is not the head of the repressive apparatus, so it would be acceptable to say that he represents the feudal system of the time. Thus, when the scribe carelessly spoke about the affairs of the state, the warden quickly cautioned, 'Discussing state matters... it could be fatal,' because he feared being caught and condemned for talking about his position as a mere prison guard. How he treats the other prisoners is not mentioned by the author, but one can infer it somewhat through his role as a warden, which required him to act accordingly.

Nevertheless, the author also describes this warden as 'gentle in nature and respectful towards noble people.' When he heard the soldiers mention Huấn Cao and his reputation, he understood their thoughts but did not act on them. It wasn’t because 'he was Huấn Cao – the possessor of a priceless treasure,' but because Huấn Cao was someone he deeply respected. The warden would never stoop to petty tricks, and his daily offering of wine and meat to Huấn Cao was driven by his genuine kindness, not a desire for manipulation. It was a gesture beyond the boundaries of the feudal system, and perhaps, he wished to connect with Huấn Cao.

The warden’s desire for Huấn Cao’s calligraphy was not born from greed but from a sincere wish. The distinction between 'wish' and 'greed' is essential here; these two terms are worlds apart, at least in the context of 'Chữ người tử tù.' The author has skillfully created the image of a warden in the grim prison environment, nurturing such a noble wish.

Being a warden did not mean that he held total authority in the prison. When preparing silk for Huấn Cao to write on, the warden didn’t remove the shackles, and more importantly, the prison was full of eyes and ears. If the act had been exposed, it could have brought severe punishment for all three of them. The detail mentioned by the author: 'Huấn Cao wore a collar and had his feet shackled while writing the characters' reinforces the idea of the immortality of talent and beauty, no matter the circumstances. The writing emerged while 'his neck was shackled and his feet bound,' yet the characters still bore the same beauty and meaning, even if the position differed, as noted by the author, Trần Hà Nam, describing it as 'representing the full essence and character of the calligrapher.' The writing was created under shackles, and though it couldn’t be 'free to soar,' it was still the expression of a free spirit with lofty aspirations.

The writing was produced in the harsh reality of imprisonment, and while it couldn’t 'freely express itself,' in spirit, it represented a free man with lofty dreams. As the author mentions, even while Huấn Cao was seated, he still thought of his 'unfulfilled great ambitions.' In his final moments, Huấn Cao chose to create beauty and ensure its immortality, leaving behind words of wisdom for a man whom he considered a close friend.

Nguyễn Tuân is a renowned writer, an artist who spent his entire life in search of beauty. He holds an important place in modern Vietnamese literature and has made significant contributions. One of his most notable works that left a lasting impact on his literary career is the short story 'The Prisoner's Writing.' In 'The Prisoner’s Writing,' Nguyễn Tuân successfully portrays a unique character that resonates with readers. Apart from Huấn Cao— a person of remarkable talent, an upright and indomitable spirit, and pure morality— another notable character deserves attention: the prison warden.

The prison warden is not a noble hero like Huấn Cao, nor does he possess the cruel, bloodthirsty characteristics of a typical executioner seeking wealth, glory, and power. The warden has a pleasant and approachable appearance, with graying hair and a thoughtful, wrinkled face that reveals a profound inner life. Upon receiving the orders from Sơn Hưng Tuyên, the provincial governor, to imprison six death row inmates, including Huấn Cao— 'the leader of the rebels' known for his remarkable handwriting— the warden begins to reflect deeply.

The image of the warden lying awake at night, his oil lamp flickering low, is one of quiet contemplation. His face becomes serene and still, as the worries about the incoming prisoners and his own reflections on them unfold. The warden, experienced and gentle, is starkly different from those who thrive on cruelty and deception in prison. What stands out in him is his pure heart, his love for beauty, and his respect for talent.

When dealing with Huấn Cao, the warden shows great respect and admiration, clearly demonstrating his deep appreciation for the talent he holds before him. On the day the prisoners are brought in, the warden's gaze toward the six new arrivals is filled with kindness. From the very first glance, he expresses his genuine respect for the man who creates beauty— Huấn Cao. Despite the insinuations of the prison staff suggesting the use of coercion or torture to extract confessions, the warden remains indifferent, refusing to acknowledge such suggestions.

At that moment, the warden knows that he has encountered the right person, the one whom he has longed to meet ever since he first studied the sacred texts. During his time in prison, Huấn Cao receives wine and meat each day before his meals— an unusual but consistent arrangement that he accepts as calmly as if he were not confined. Behind this special treatment is the warden, who personally arranges for these meals. One day, the warden visits the prisoner, further solidifying his genuine care for Huấn Cao.

However, despite the warden’s respectful tone, Huấn Cao bluntly rejects him, stating, 'What do you want from me? I want only one thing: for you to never set foot here again.' In response, the warden remains composed. He does not retaliate or act vindictively, but rather respectfully acknowledges Huấn Cao's wishes with, 'I understand your intent.' The prisoners continue to receive special treatment, including even more sumptuous meals. Why does the warden act this way? In terms of status, he sees himself as 'just a humble jailer,' while Huấn Cao is a hero, renowned for his extraordinary skill in calligraphy. Moreover, the warden hopes that, over time, Huấn Cao’s demeanor will soften, leading him to eventually request to write for him. If he could receive even a single letter from Huấn Cao, it would fulfill his deepest desire. Through this, Nguyễn Tuân highlights the warden’s many admirable qualities: his patience, courtesy, and endurance.

The warden has a pure and noble heart. He recognizes and cherishes talent, and is deeply enamored with beauty. Although he 'chose the wrong profession,' one might wonder: has there ever been a jailer with such lofty aspirations? His desire is a noble one, a refined and humane wish. The warden dreams of one day 'hanging a couplet, written by Huấn Cao, in his own home.' He is fascinated by the beauty of Huấn Cao’s handwriting, finding it perfectly crafted and square. For the warden, receiving Huấn Cao’s writing would be the greatest honor, as though possessing a rare treasure. Therefore, until he receives Huấn Cao’s writing, the warden lives in a state of deep inner turmoil.

His 'suffering' is rooted in having Huấn Cao under his care, yet feeling distant from him due to the vast difference in their character. Furthermore, the warden is tormented by the thought that, if Huấn Cao is executed before he can obtain a piece of his writing, he would regret it for the rest of his life. This, in essence, becomes a noble tragedy, one that Nguyễn Tuân brilliantly conveys through the lens of cultural and artistic sensibility. The warden’s inner turmoil brings the narrative to its peak when Huấn Cao agrees to write for him just before his execution.

Eventually, the inevitable happens: a death notice arrives for Huấn Cao. The warden calls for the scribe to share his feelings, lamenting the swift passage of time and how he never had the chance to request Huấn Cao’s writing. Moved by the warden’s words, the scribe visits the prisoner to convey the tragic news. Upon hearing it, Huấn Cao smiles, not in fear of death, but with the calmness of one who has long faced danger and is familiar with death. This smile leaves the warden in awe and admiration, deepening his respect for Huấn Cao, whose unwavering spirit has made him a hero in the truest sense. Huấn Cao seems to understand the warden’s heart, and responds, 'I appreciate your sincere admiration. I did not realize that someone like you could have such noble tastes. I almost failed to recognize your worthy heart.'

The warden’s noble character deeply moves Huấn Cao, who values and cherishes it. The scene where Huấn Cao writes for the warden is a rare and beautiful moment in human history. The one with power humbly bows before the prisoner, while the prisoner, with grace and ease, writes a piece of calligraphy that others will admire and desire. In the face of such beauty, the warden becomes a true companion and confidant of the prisoner. The warden humbly gathers the coins to mark the writing, listens to the prisoner’s advice to 'return to his hometown and preserve his integrity,' and, with tears in his eyes, bows deeply, 'I humbly accept your wisdom.' This scene reflects the beauty of the warden’s soul, illuminated by the light of calligraphy and moral integrity.

The image of the warden is one of Nguyễn Tuân’s greatest successes in portraying and creating characters with unique artistry. The warden’s love for beauty, his respect for talent, and his noble heart are depicted with meticulous care, making him a character of profound beauty. Although the warden’s social role is completely opposite to Huấn Cao’s, artistically, he is someone who understands and admires beauty. Through this character, the theme of the story is further emphasized: the one thing that is truly honored and respected is beauty.

When talking about Nguyễn Tuân during the 1930s-1945, readers will instantly recall his famous romantic short story: 'The Letter of a Condemned Prisoner.' It is a tale of an extraordinary encounter in the cramped confines of a prison, filled with paradoxes. At the forefront is the character Huấn Cao – a hero and a gifted artist. However, the presence of Huấn Cao cannot be mentioned without also considering the prison warden: 'a pure voice' amidst the harsh realities of the prison.

The warden is introduced at the very beginning of the story through a conversation with the prison clerk. The name Huấn Cao appears in an official document, prompting the warden’s subtle curiosity and admiration. Although the warden holds a modest position – neither high-ranking nor financially affluent – he is still someone of status and represents the law of the court. From this early introduction, the author helps the reader better understand this character.

On the first night, the warden is depicted deep in thought, 'his face furrowed, sitting with his hand to his temples...' Perhaps he harbors a hidden feeling. The warden is troubled by Huấn Cao’s arrival in the prison, as it signifies that a talented individual is about to face a death sentence. There is a vague sense of regret as though witnessing a brilliant star on the brink of vanishing from the world. But, as a person of status, the warden lives in adversity and solitude. He yearns to ask for Huấn Cao's calligraphy but lacks the courage to do so. His position feels like being 'a fish in a confined pond.'

In the era of feudalism, prison wardens were often seen with certain prejudices: crafty, greedy for wealth, and untrustworthy. Yet Nguyễn Tuân constructs a new image for the warden: one who possesses the rare quality of recognizing and valuing talent.

The warden harbors a noble desire to obtain Huấn Cao’s calligraphy to hang in his home. 'The warden’s greatest sorrow was having Huấn Cao under his command, but being unable to gather the courage to ask for his writing. He was fearful that, if Huấn Cao were executed before he could obtain even a single letter, he would regret it for the rest of his life.' What a refined wish! The warden genuinely cares for Huấn Cao. Upon hearing of Huấn Cao’s arrival at the prison, he orders the clerk to prepare everything meticulously.

When Huấn Cao finally arrives, the warden greets him with exceptional courtesy. The prison guards, surprised by the warden’s calm demeanor, expected the usual harsh treatment, but the warden treats Huấn Cao with an unusual gentleness, casting a look of 'kindness' and respect – an attitude uncharacteristic of a prison warden toward a prisoner. The warden even arranges for the prisoner to receive special privileges, including fine food and wine, not just for Huấn Cao but also for his companions.

One day, the warden timidly visits Huấn Cao, only to be harshly rebuffed: 'I only ask one thing of you: never set foot in here again.' The warden, polite and composed, respectfully replies, 'I understand your wish.' His composed response reveals a noble soul, willing to bow before the 'plum blossom' of Huấn Cao’s talent.

When the warden learns that Huấn Cao has agreed to give him a sample of his writing, he prepares everything with great care – white silk, an ink stick, and fragrant ink. This preparation highlights the warden’s deep appreciation for beauty. His humility in asking for the calligraphy demonstrates how much he values Huấn Cao and the beauty of his art. In the face of the beauty of calligraphy, the warden becomes an appreciative confidant and a true friend to the condemned prisoner. The warden 'humbly' marks the characters with coins, listens attentively to the prisoner’s advice to 'return to his homeland to preserve his soul' before 'thinking about playing with words.' The warden bows deeply, tears in his eyes, saying, 'This foolish man respectfully acknowledges your wisdom.' He regards Huấn Cao as a divine figure, a messenger of righteousness. All of this showcases the beauty of the warden’s soul, illuminated by the light of calligraphy and virtue, the essence of beauty.

Nguyễn Tuân successfully uses a romantic writing style to build a character who is entirely different from the preconceived notions of a typical warden. This warden loves beauty, respects talent, and cherishes moral integrity. A man 'who lives close to the mud yet does not carry its smell.'

In Nguyễn Tuân's "The Prisoner’s Calligraphy", alongside the character of Huấn Cao, we also encounter the figure of the prison warden, a man who values integrity and admires righteous individuals. The warden is a pure tone amidst the chaos and dissonance of a broken melody. Nguyễn Tuân masterfully portrays this character in a way that leaves a lasting impression.

The warden is an older man, his hair graying, and his face marked with wrinkles that reflect a deep and complex inner life. Upon receiving the official document, he learns that Huấn Cao, the man whose calligraphy he admires, is among the six condemned prisoners, which deeply troubles him.

The warden’s life is one of tragic irony. He is a gentle soul with a strong sense of respect for others, yet his position forces him into a world of deception and cruelty. His nature contrasts sharply with his environment: he possesses good intentions and integrity, yet he is bound to work with the dregs of society. This is the tragedy of his existence.

Despite his circumstances, the warden retains a noble spirit. Upon learning of Huấn Cao's arrival, he spends the entire night in contemplation, his once furrowed brow giving way to a calm, serene demeanor. It seems that, in the stillness of the night, he made the decision to offer special treatment to Huấn Cao, which brought him peace.

His passion for art and his admiration for talent led him to this decision, but it also put him in a dangerous position. Despite the risks, the warden’s love for beauty and his own integrity pushed him to treat Huấn Cao with the respect he deserved. The warden also harbored a hope: that he might be able to receive Huấn Cao’s calligraphy, though he knew it was a fragile hope, as Huấn Cao was a reserved man.

Even when he gathered all his courage to meet Huấn Cao, only to be met with disdain, the warden responded with grace, politely stepping back and saying, “I accept your wishes,” continuing to offer his respectful treatment. This gesture of humility reflected the warden’s deep admiration for Huấn Cao, acknowledging the extraordinary nature of someone like him, as the warden humbly stated, “Those who stir the heavens and disturb the earth, when they come to me, I do not even know who they are, let alone a small man like me who merely guards prisoners.” His respectful demeanor demonstrated his profound respect for Huấn Cao's character.

Throughout Huấn Cao’s time in his custody, the warden clung to a hope that Huấn Cao’s temperament might soften, allowing him to request the calligraphy he had long dreamed of. The warden had prepared the finest silk and ink, hoping that receiving a piece of Huấn Cao’s calligraphy would fulfill his lifelong desire. What pained him most was that despite Huấn Cao being under his charge, he did not know how to ask for the calligraphy. He feared that, should Huấn Cao be executed, his wish would remain unfulfilled forever.

When the warden received the official notification, he was stricken with dread, realizing that the following day Huấn Cao would be taken to his execution. His hope of receiving the calligraphy seemed as though it would never come to pass. However, the warden confided in his trusted scribe, who, moved by the warden’s dedication, went to Huấn Cao and shared the warden’s deep longing. Huấn Cao, understanding the warden’s sincerity, said, “I appreciate the deep respect you have for talent. I never knew that someone like you, a prison official, would have such noble tastes. I nearly neglected such a heart.”

It was the warden’s character and integrity that earned Huấn Cao’s respect and admiration. “The moment of calligraphy in the prisoner’s cell, and the extraordinary encounter between the heroic artist and the man with discerning taste,” took place in the dim, confined space of the prison. The warden had carefully prepared everything for the calligraphy session: the untouched white silk, the ink pot, and the fragrant ink. Under the flickering light of the torch, the three men huddled together, carefully observing each stroke of Huấn Cao’s writing.

After each character was written, the warden humbly marked the letters with copper coins, while the scribe trembled as he held the ink bowl. On the white silk, each brushstroke was carefully crafted. The warden, listening to the prisoner’s advice, was moved by Huấn Cao’s suggestion to return to his homeland and leave his profession in order to preserve his integrity. Moved by both the prisoner’s skill and character, the warden bowed deeply, tears in his eyes, and said, “This foolish person respectfully accepts your advice.” He recognized his own past mistakes and, in the presence of Huấn Cao’s noble character, felt as though he had been enlightened, able to live the remainder of his life in peace and purity.

The art of character development, the unique encounter, and the use of exaggeration, contrast, and internal monologue all serve to reveal the true nature of the characters. Through these techniques, Nguyễn Tuân presents a deeply thoughtful portrayal of the warden, highlighting his nobility and love for beauty, and showing how every person has an artist’s soul, appreciating beauty and talent.

Nguyễn Tuân, a writer who spent his life in pursuit of beauty, has portrayed characters in his works as embodiments of this ideal. One cannot forget the brilliant and noble Huấn Cao, who was both artistic and heroic, resilient and undaunted. Alongside him, the character of the jail warden is depicted as someone who values honor and has a deep appreciation for beauty, further enhancing the profound character of the writer.

In terms of social position, the jail warden represents the authority and power of the court, symbolizing the corrupt and immoral aspects of the time. Yet, in an artistic sense, he is someone who treasures beauty and is deeply captivated by Huấn Cao’s writing.

The jail warden is portrayed as a man with an artistic soul who appreciates and reveres beauty. This is first evident in his passion for calligraphy. When people think of officials, they typically picture cruel, pompous figures, but the warden is an exception. He is not only intrigued by Huấn Cao’s beautiful handwriting, which he views as a priceless treasure, but also expresses a strong desire to have one of Huấn Cao’s works displayed in his private home. His longing is evident when he eagerly learns that Huấn Cao is among the prisoners he is transporting.

The warden is filled with both anxiety and regret, torn between his desire to acquire Huấn Cao’s calligraphy and his concern that Huấn Cao might be executed before his wish can be fulfilled. Nguyễn Tuân beautifully captures this duality, allowing us to appreciate the warden’s noble character in an artistic light.

The warden also demonstrates keen insight and the ability to recognize and appreciate talent, showing his genuine admiration for Huấn Cao. In their dialogues, he consistently displays respect and humility. Every day, he provides Huấn Cao and his fellow prisoners with fine food and drink. Even when Huấn Cao looks down on him, the warden does not retaliate with anger or seek revenge; instead, he remains polite and understanding, acknowledging that “those who challenge the heavens or the seas are beyond others’ comprehension, let alone someone like me, just a lowly jailer.” This shows the warden’s remarkable dignity.

Moreover, the warden is depicted as someone with a pure soul who is willing to bow before beauty. On the first night Huấn Cao spends in the jail, the warden contemplates his own profession with a thoughtful expression, lamenting his “wrong choice of career.” Nguyễn Tuân describes him as “a clear note amidst a chaotic symphony,” which highlights his inner turmoil. When Huấn Cao agrees to grant him a calligraphy piece, the warden’s joy is overwhelming. He humbly bows before the beauty of the words, even in the grim setting of the prison. His act of reverence in “placing the coins to mark the letters on the silky cloth” only amplifies the beauty of his character.

This humility does not signify weakness; rather, it elevates the dignity of the warden’s character. When Huấn Cao advises him to abandon his career to preserve his purity, the warden is deeply moved. With sincere respect, he bows and tearfully exclaims, “I, this misguided soul, humbly accept your guidance,” which reveals the purity and integrity of his character in a world that thrives on cruelty and deceit.

Through a masterful blend of romanticism and realism, Nguyễn Tuân uses vivid language, blending Sino-Vietnamese and native words, to craft the image of the jail warden. He stands as an equal to the noble and talented Huấn Cao, representing the beauty of an era long past in the literary world of Nguyễn Tuân.

Through the warden’s character, we learn a valuable lesson about our perceptions of humanity. Within each of us, there is an artist’s soul that can recognize and cherish beauty, and not all people are wicked. Even among those who may seem corrupt, there are still individuals with noble hearts, pure souls. This also reflects a new perspective on art: that beauty can emerge from the most dire circumstances, and it does not diminish but instead shines even brighter, carrying deep humanistic significance.

In the harsh prison environment, people live by cruelty and deceit, and the gentle and respectful nature of the prison warden is like a clear note amidst a chaotic and dissonant symphony. Nguyễn Tuân wrote the story 'The Calligraphy of the Condemned Prisoner' in 1939, published in the Tao Đàn magazine, and later included in his work 'Echoes of a Bygone Era' in 1940. This short novel, consisting of about 2800 words, is a true piece of art.

Next to Huấn Cao, the condemned prisoner known for his calligraphy, stands the prison warden, whose request for calligraphy was described by Nguyễn Tuân in a remarkable and impressive way. The warden has an attractive appearance. His hair is graying, and his beard has turned pale. His thoughtful, wrinkled face reflects a deep and introspective inner life. After receiving the official order from Sơn Hưng Tuyên, detailing the six condemned prisoners, including Huấn Cao, the leader of the rebellious group known for his excellent and swift calligraphy, the warden became contemplative.

In the stillness of the night, as the oil ink plate was drying, the warden thought deeply, his face gradually becoming calm and serene like the still waters of a spring pond. The upcoming arrival of the prisoners caused great turmoil in his thoughts. He is a man of experience, kind-hearted, unlike those who live by cruelty and deceit in the prison.

The warden is not a brutal figure with bloodstained hands. He is a Confucian scholar, familiar with the teachings of the sages and virtuous in his conduct. Cautious in gestures and words, he inquired about Huấn Cao: 'I hear that Huấn Cao...'. From the clerk's response, he sensed that this man was someone of great character, not a villain or indifferent to others. The warden wanted to treat Huấn Cao with special respect but feared the clerk's report, so he cautiously planned: 'Let’s wait until tomorrow to see how things unfold.'

As a prison warden, he could unleash fury and order brutal actions, with his subordinates being thugs 'ruthless, deceitful, and violent,' yet he was different. His demeanor was gentle, and his heart was compassionate, respectful of others. Upon receiving the prisoners, the warden earned respect for his calm demeanor and discretion, showing particular care for Huấn Cao. In contrast to the insolent, cruel behavior of the prison guards, the warden calmly and firmly declared, 'This is a matter of authority; do not speak out of turn.'

Pre-war romantic literature often used contrast to highlight the paradox of situations and the tragedy of fate. Nguyễn Tuân, too, contrasted the warden with the prison guards, the pure with the corrupt, and the virtuous with the vicious. Through this, he emphasized the warden's noble character, like 'a clear note in a chaotic and discordant symphony.'

All good and evil are revealed through actions. For half a month, Huấn Cao, the condemned prisoner, was treated with the respect of a distinguished guest. Before each meal, he was offered wine and food, a gift from the warden to warm his spirits. This treatment demonstrated the warden’s genuine respect for Huấn Cao and his appreciation of his noble character.

In ancient times, a gentleman valued propriety in interactions, understanding both himself and others. When approaching the condemned prisoner, the warden sincerely offered: 'If you need anything, please let me know. I will do my best to assist.' The warden was met with a cold rejection from Huấn Cao: 'I only ask that you stay out of here.' In this moment, despite holding power, the warden remained composed, not seeking revenge or acting out of malice. He simply responded, 'I understand your wishes.' Huấn Cao and his fellow prisoners continued to receive special treatment, with meals and wine becoming even more generous.

Why did the warden act this way? Despite his position, he saw himself only as a minor official, while Huấn Cao was a hero, renowned for his extraordinary calligraphy skills. The warden hoped that, in time, Huấn Cao’s anger would subside so that he might request a calligraphy piece. If he could obtain Huấn Cao’s calligraphy, he would feel fulfilled. Nguyễn Tuân highlighted the warden’s many virtues: calmness, courtesy, and patience. The warden lived by the ancient saying, 'A small lack of patience leads to great failure.' His greatness was not in his power but in his character as a scholar, familiar with the teachings of the sages.

The warden possessed a pure and noble soul, knowing how to value talent and appreciating beauty. Although he had chosen the wrong profession, who else in the world could have such a noble desire? His wish was lofty and refined: to one day hang a calligraphy scroll written by Huấn Cao in his home. He admired the beauty of Huấn Cao’s calligraphy, which was both square and elegant. For the warden, there could be no greater honor than possessing a piece of Huấn Cao’s calligraphy, a true treasure. Therefore, before he could obtain the calligraphy, the warden was filled with inner conflict. His deepest anguish stemmed from having Huấn Cao under his charge but not daring to approach him, feeling that the prisoner’s character was so distant from his own. The warden was further troubled when he realized that Huấn Cao would soon be executed; if he did not obtain the calligraphy, he would regret it for the rest of his life. This was a noble tragedy, one that Nguyễn Tuân portrayed in a unique artistic and cultural light.

Before his execution, through the words of the clerk, Huấn Cao understood the warden’s feelings and said: 'I appreciate your extraordinary insight. I had no idea that someone like you, the warden, could have such noble tastes. I almost failed to appreciate a truly great heart.' It was the warden’s noble character that moved and earned the respect of Huấn Cao. The calligraphy exchange in the prisoner’s cell was a serendipitous meeting between a hero with extraordinary talent and a man who recognized his worth. In the presence of the beauty of calligraphy, the warden became a true confidant of the condemned man. The warden humbly took the coins that marked the calligraphy and listened to Huấn Cao’s sincere advice to return home and preserve his moral integrity before thinking about calligraphy. The warden bowed to the prisoner and, through tears, said: 'This foolish man humbly accepts your wisdom.' This act exemplified the warden’s beautiful soul under the light of calligraphy and moral integrity.

The calligraphy exchange was truly moving. The character of the warden is one of Nguyễn Tuân’s successes in portraying a unique and talented artist. The warden’s love for beauty and his perceptiveness were reflected in his appearance, language, emotions, gestures, and actions, all depicted with the meticulous skill of a talented writer, highlighting the warden’s noble character: 'In one’s life, one should bow only to the plum blossom, not to power, but to the beauty of life.'

In conclusion, the warden is a man of talent, enlightenment, and legacy in Nguyễn Tuân’s 'Echoes of a Bygone Era.'

Nguyễn Tuân, with his heroic and valiant pages, emerges through a pure and standard national language, constantly striving to revive a glorious past. Yet, he seems to feel insufficient. Nguyễn Tuân pulls his characters into that trend. This is the case with the prison guard in the short story "The Calligraphy of a Prisoner" (from the collection "Echoes of a Past Time").

The prison guard: he is not a noble hero like Huấn Cao, nor does he embody the bloodthirsty executioner (in "Blood Feast"). This person represents an intermediary between beauty and ugliness. Under the skillful pen of a language master, this intermediate image is vague, without clear boundaries.

At first glance, the prison guard seems like a resigned, passive figure, no different from others of his station at the time: "What do we know about the affairs of the national court to discuss further?" The feudal system, the "law of the land," has made the guard accustomed to receiving prisoners and "the usual torture tactics." In these moments, he remains cold like a withered grass, obedient like a slave faithfully fulfilling his role.

But who would have thought that within him still exists a dormant seed of beauty? This seed, though crushed, quietly yearns to rise again, waiting for the right moment. And that moment does come. Huấn Cao, a person of both literary and martial excellence, appears with “the skill to write letters quickly and beautifully.” The prison guard begins to fall into a difficult dilemma. A silent inner struggle becomes a hallmark of the guard throughout the story and also represents the “introversion” often found in Nguyễn Tuân's works.

Ultimately, the passion for beauty triumphs. Though this victory is not absolute, it is enough to transform the prison guard into a different person. "The complex sounds soared, rising from the ground, supporting a star that wants to bid farewell to the universe," the “political star” obviously refers to Huấn Cao. And who is the "complex sound" implied to be? That person is the prison guard. The prison guard wishes to cherish beauty but is also afraid. Therefore, Nguyễn Tuân allows this character to transform into something intangible and ethereal. This detail reveals both the strength of "Echoes of a Past Time" in its romanticism and longing to awaken beauty, while also subtly exposing Nguyễn Tuân’s weakness and his distant yearning. It makes Nguyễn Tuân seem to shy away, blaming fate: ‘Sometimes, fate cruelly exiles the purest things amidst a heap of filth.’

From this idea, the prison guard believes he "has chosen the wrong profession." Nguyễn Tuân seeks beauty and finds it, shimmering and fragile, in a dark sky. By refraining from the usual tortures, giving special treatment to the condemned, and daring to ask for the calligraphy, he subtly adds beauty to the prison guard's character because: “Recognizing talent means not being a bad person.” However, even when he is treating the prisoners better and trying to request the calligraphy, the prison guard is still afraid. He instructs the assistant to tell Huấn Cao: “As long as you keep it secret.” A small detail, but one that is certainly essential. It is both romantic and realistic. He admires Huấn Cao’s talent but fears the "law of the king." It takes great sensitivity for Nguyễn Tuân to discover this. It takes immense talent for Nguyễn Tuân to express it. Without writing about the subtle fear, it would be inauthentic. But Nguyễn Tuân is a person who always strives for beauty and truth. If too much were written, it would disrupt the flowing, turbulent transformation of the character’s image.

Admiring Huấn Cao’s talent, longing to “have his writing, to hang it as a precious treasure,” by this point, the prison guard seems no longer just a prison guard but a manifestation of Nguyễn Tuân, with a heartbeat and breath dedicated to cherishing beauty. “One cold afternoon, the prison guard rushed to attend to a document after reading it.” No longer sorrowful or regretful, but having reached the peak of sorrow and bewilderment. The prison guard knew the document was coming, but still felt surprised and lost. The conscience, having awakened in a person, urged the prison guard to act. An action contrary to what he had previously said: "I know, my job has already been permitted by law."

The love for beauty, turned into obsession, awakened a dormant heroism that had been asleep for so long. In the magnificent scene of giving the calligraphy, there is a memorable detail: “After the prisoner wrote the letter, the prison guard quickly bowed and placed the coins marking the word onto the stone tablet,” the “bowing” was not out of flattery, but out of respect. When admiration reached its peak, the story also ended. "This foolish person respectfully accepts the teaching." A masterful technique, ending the story at its climax. This unique technique highlights the complete, perfect beauty of both the person requesting the calligraphy and the one giving it.

Throughout the length of the story, the prison guard always exists with a certain meaning. The prison guard is not just a unique figure but also embodies the most common traits of "Echoes of a Past Time," of Nguyễn Tuân’s philosophy and style: romantic yet realistic, the voice of conscience, the national spirit, and the expression of love and nostalgia for the past, capable of reviving a bygone era.

"The Calligraphy of the Condemned Man" is one of the most significant works in Nguyễn Tuân's literary career. Fueled by a passion for beauty, his writings focus on exploring and revealing the artistry and exceptional qualities of human beings. The jailer in this short story serves as a representative of Nguyễn Tuân’s distinctive creative style and artistic perspective.

The story centers around Huấn Cao, a condemned man famous for his exceptional calligraphy. Upon being imprisoned, the jailer, instead of treating the prisoner with cruelty, holds a deep admiration for Huấn Cao's talent and yearns for him to write calligraphy. Just before Huấn Cao is executed, a deeply emotional calligraphy session unfolds in the dark, damp prison. The author creates a striking image of the jailer, describing him as a pure soul who reveres and cherishes beauty.

The jailer is directly introduced through his conversation with the scribe. Nguyễn Tuân provides distinctive details about the jailer’s appearance: "sitting pensively, massaging his temples", "graying hair and beard", and "a contemplative face", which convey an image of a seasoned and experienced man. These descriptions not only provide insight into the jailer’s outward appearance but also help to illustrate his internal world. Behind the seemingly thoughtful exterior lies a person filled with regrets and inner turmoil. This quiet, reserved figure stands in stark contrast to the typical cruel, harsh jailer. Readers may ask: Why would a man with such a reflective expression be engaged in a profession so contrary to his innate goodness?

The jailer represents the ruling class, a symbol of cruelty and rigidity within the feudal system, yet he possesses a deep, burning love for beauty. From a professional perspective, his status differs drastically from that of Huấn Cao. However, Nguyễn Tuân places emphasis on his noble inner qualities, which shine through even in the oppressive environment of the prison. This is reflected in the jailer’s respectful treatment of Huấn Cao, as he arranges for the cell to be cleaned and offers wine and meat with great reverence. Such treatment of a prisoner is extraordinary. Even when Huấn Cao initially rejects him, the jailer continues to express his respect, providing even more lavish offerings.

Strangely, the condemned man acts arrogantly and scorns, while the jailer remains humble and submissive. The contrast between their roles and behavior underscores that the jailer deeply respects talent and beauty. The jailer never resents Huấn Cao’s disdain but acknowledges his own position, saying: "I am just a humble servant guarding the prison." He is fully aware of his own position in life. This paradox—where someone in power humbly acknowledges their inferiority—helps explain the jailer's deep reverence for Huấn Cao's talents and his essential humanity. Not everyone understands Huấn Cao’s fame as a calligrapher. Through Nguyễn Tuân’s pen, the jailer is portrayed as having a "pure innocence", a nature that is inherently virtuous. Nguyễn Tuân also makes an intriguing comparison, calling the jailer "a beautiful note, a shining note soaring above the chaotic, dissonant melody of life."

The jailer is also portrayed as a man of noble character, a symbol of beauty amidst the vulgarity of everyday life. Nguyễn Tuân once remarked: "Sometimes fate is cruel, casting purity into a heap of filth." Is it possible that, amidst the filth of the prison, the jailer is the shining, unblemished gem? His noble character is evident in his constant valuation of talent, spirit, and integrity as the true measure of human worth. Regarding the scribe, the jailer muses, "He, too, like me, has chosen the wrong profession." This reflects the jailer's admiration for true character, as he judges people based on their artistic beauty, not their background or appearance. His inner beauty is further expressed through his intense desire to obtain Huấn Cao’s calligraphy, a lifelong ambition.

His desire to acquire Huấn Cao’s calligraphy is the jailer’s most heartfelt aspiration. His only regret is that, before Huấn Cao is executed, he might not receive a few strokes of the master’s brush. Calligraphy is an art form, and to appreciate it, one must be an artist of refined taste. To the jailer, Huấn Cao’s calligraphy is a treasure, symbolizing the deep respect he holds not only for the art itself but for the person behind it. The jailer’s affection for Huấn Cao is a deep admiration for his skill. As long as there are individuals creating beauty, there will always be others who yearn to preserve and honor that beauty.

Through his masterful character development, poetic language, and the ability to reveal a character's nature through speech and actions, Nguyễn Tuân succeeds in creating a secondary character who stands out for his noble virtues. This character, like Nguyễn Tuân himself, holds a profound appreciation for beauty and reveres it in all its forms, much as the author envisions life, literature, and society.

A great literary tradition is characterized by diverse styles, and a great writer creates a unique, personal style. Nguyễn Tuân is such a writer. His distinct artistic style is marked by intellectual brilliance and a lifelong quest for beauty. This passion is reflected in his works, which exude both intellectual depth and exquisite craftsmanship. Particularly in 'The Prisoner's Calligraphy,' apart from the character Huấn Cao, we cannot overlook the jailer. Under the skilled and refined pen of Nguyễn Tuân, the character of the jailer emerges as an intriguing figure.

'The Prisoner's Calligraphy' is one of the stories in Nguyễn Tuân's collection 'The Echo of the Past.' This collection captures the essence of old traditions that have faded into history. In this story, it narrates a surprising encounter between the jailer and Huấn Cao. The meeting takes place in a prison, a place of darkness, the enemy of beauty, during the final days of the prisoner Huấn Cao. The situation is ironic, but the irony is even more evident in the fate of the characters. The jailer represents the imperial regime, while Huấn Cao opposes it. However, on an artistic level, they are no longer enemies. Huấn Cao is renowned for his beautiful handwriting, and the jailer shares a deep admiration for beauty. Thus, on the artistic plane, they are kindred spirits. From this narrative situation, we also perceive the jailer's beauty as delicate, pure notes in a chaotic symphony.

The jailer is a man with noble tastes and desires. Unlike ordinary officials who seek wealth, vanity, and power, the jailer’s aspirations are entirely different. His refined tastes and desires set him apart. His vision transcends material temptations and the darkness of the prison. Though he holds a position of authority, he is not arrogant, instead fulfilling his duty with humility. He is like a clear tone in a cacophonous musical composition. His deepest desire is to have a calligraphy piece written by Huấn Cao displayed in his home.

This yearning for traditional cultural values highlights the purity of his soul. Despite being a jailer, he retains his inherent goodness. He is not swayed by the imperial court. Upon learning that Huấn Cao had arrived, he did everything in his power to acquire his calligraphy, knowing that such an action could cost him his life. We can sense that this man reveres beauty and his spirit remains untainted by the prison's dark confines. In a place dominated by violence and cruelty, his soul shines brightly like a precious gem in the night. Even when Huấn Cao initially refused, the jailer did not lose hope and continued to pursue his noble desire. By understanding the jailer, we can understand ourselves better. Sometimes, a person’s position or fate does not define their values or spirit.

Not only is the jailer a lover of beauty with noble aspirations, but he also deeply respects talented individuals like Huấn Cao. When he learned that the notorious criminal would soon be brought to the prison to face execution, he was delighted to meet the man he admired. At the same time, he felt sorrow for the talented man whose life would soon be taken. Although Huấn Cao was known for his skills in breaking out of prison, the jailer was not concerned with that. His only focus was how to approach this hero to ask for his calligraphy. The jailer treated Huấn Cao and his companions with utmost respect, offering them meat and wine daily. This demonstrates his deep respect for talented individuals. Even when Huấn Cao scolded him, the jailer did not resent him, understanding that those who possess such remarkable abilities often carry an air of superiority.

Moreover, the jailer’s actions also reflect his respect for cultural values. His admiration for calligraphy symbolizes his reverence for traditional cultural heritage. The darkness of the prison could not corrupt his soul. The beauty of calligraphy kept his soul pure and innocent. This is why he was determined to obtain Huấn Cao’s calligraphy. When Huấn Cao finally agreed, the jailer was overjoyed, feeling a deep sense of realization, including a recognition of his own wrong choice of profession. He respectfully accepted Huấn Cao’s final instructions, promising to return to his hometown and live in peace with his untainted spirit. Tears welled up in his eyes, reflecting his regret. Through this, we see that the jailer is a man of pure innocence who values cultural traditions, willing to risk his life for them.

Once again, we must admire Nguyễn Tuân's brilliant talent. Not only did he create a perfect main character, but even a secondary character like the jailer leaves behind profound human values. The beauty of the jailer’s character shines through. The prison's gates could not strip him of his pure spirit and noble desires. The story ends with the jailer returning to his hometown to live with his innocent soul intact.

Nguyen Tuan presents his heroic and valiant characters through a pure and standard native language, always striving to revive a glorious past. And as if feeling inadequate, Nguyen Tuan pulls his characters toward this direction. This is the case with the jailer in the short story "The Calligraphy of a Dying Prisoner" (in the collection "Echoes of the Past").

The jailer is not a noble hero like Huân Cao, nor does he have the bloodthirsty nature of an executioner (Blood Feast). This character is a middle figure between beauty and ugliness. Under the brilliant pen of a master of language, this ambiguous figure lacks clear boundaries. Initially, the jailer seems like a resigned, content individual, no different from his contemporaries: "What do we know about the affairs of the court to discuss more?" The feudal framework and "the law of the land" had accustomed him to receiving prisoners, assigning them, and "using the usual methods of torture." During those times, the jailer remained cold like a weed, obedient like a loyal slave to his role.

But who would have guessed that within this man, there always existed a green sprout of beauty? Though oppressed, it still persistently waited for a moment to rise. And that moment came. Huân Cao, a man of both literary and martial skill, appeared with "the ability to write very quickly and beautifully." The jailer began to experience a very difficult inner conflict. This quiet struggle became a hallmark of the jailer throughout the story, embodying the "introverted" nature often found in Nguyen Tuan's works.

In the end, the passion for beauty triumphed. Though not an absolute victory, it was enough to transform the jailer into a different person. "All these complex sounds soar high above the earth, supporting a star, the one who wishes to bid farewell to the universe," the "political star" naturally refers to Huân Cao. And who does the "complex sounds" refer to? That person is the jailer. The jailer wanted to cherish beauty but was afraid. Hence, Nguyen Tuan allowed this character to transform into something intangible, illusionary. This detail reveals both the strength of the romanticism in "Echoes of the Past" and Nguyen Tuan's own weakness in his longing for a distant beauty. It makes him seem to avoid the issue, blaming heaven: "Sometimes heaven is cruel, sending the pure amidst a pile of filth."

From this idea, the jailer thought he "had chosen the wrong profession". Nguyen Tuan sought beauty and found it, fragile and shimmering, in a dark sky. He stopped the usual tortures, gave special treatment to the condemned prisoners, and boldly asked for calligraphy, subtly adding beauty to the jailer. This was because: "Knowing talent is not a vice." However, even when showing special treatment and attempting to ask for calligraphy, the jailer was still afraid, still instructed the clerk to tell Huân Cao: "As long as you keep it secret." A small but essential detail. It is both romantic and realistic. Admiring Huân Cao's talent but fearing the "king's decree." It takes great subtlety for Nguyen Tuan to notice this. It takes great skill for him to express this. Without writing about the underlying fear, it wouldn't be genuine, and Nguyen Tuan was a man who always sought beauty and truth. If this fear were overemphasized, it would disrupt the unfolding transformation of the character.

Admiring Huân Cao's talent, desiring "to have his calligraphy as a treasure," by now, the jailer no longer seemed like the jailer but rather a manifestation of Nguyen Tuan, with a heartbeat and breath devoted entirely to cherishing beauty. "One cold evening, the jailer returned after reading the official documents." No longer was there sorrow or regret, but a peak of sorrow and dazedness. When receiving the official document, the jailer knew what would happen, but it still felt abrupt and empty. The purity within him had awakened, urging him to act. An action contrary to what he had said: "I already know, this is the way of the law."

The love for beauty, to the point of obsession, awakened a dormant spirit within him over the years. In the magnificent act of giving calligraphy, there is a memorable detail: "The prisoner finished writing a character, and the jailer quickly bowed to place the coins marking the calligraphy on the stone tablet," "bowing" not out of flattery but because of admiration. When admiration reaches its peak, the story ends. "This ignorant person humbly accepts." A brilliant artistic touch, ending the story at its climax. This unique art highlights the complete and perfect beauty of both the one who requests and the one who gives calligraphy.

Throughout the story, the jailer always holds a definite meaning. He is not just a unique figure but also embodies the general traits of "Echoes of the Past" and Nguyen Tuan's worldview and style: romantic yet realistic, a voice of purity and national spirit, a symbol of loving and lamenting what has passed, and breathing life into an old time.