John Matthews Manly's papers...

Note: this article has now moved to john-matthews-manlys-papers on Cipher Mysteries

One of the major figures in the early 20th century history of the Voynich Manuscript was John Matthews Manly, the man who definitively debunked Newbold's strange micrographic cipher claims. During the First World War, Manly worked in the US Military Intelligence Division, and left in 1919 having attained the rank of Major. After that, he put most of his time at the University of Chicago into researching Chaucer, before dying in 1940.

Interestingly, Manly's papers are held by the University of Chicago: there's even an online guide to them, which lists a whole set of Voynich & non-Army cryptographic folders to look at, particularly in Boxes 4 and 5. One day, if I happen to get the opportunity to spend a day in Chicago, I'd love to go through these: Manly was a smart guy, so it would be fascinating to find out what was going through his mind (however indirectly).

Box: 4
Folder: 19 - Table of Latin Syllables
Folder: 20-21 - Photographs of Voynich Ms
Folder: 22 - "Key to the Library" (JMM's?)

Box: 5
Folder: 1 - Worksheets
Folder: 2 - Photographs of Mss (Including Français 24306, incomplete) and of one printed label
Folder: 3 - Three working notebooks, labelled "Bacon Cipher"
Folder: 4 - Notes on code for article; other notes on Sloane 830 ["Written in the years 1575-6, by a person whose initials appear to be M.A.B.", according to levity.com] and 414 [two collections of "chymical receipts"]
Folder: 5 - Worksheets on related ciphers: "Galen's Anatomy" [?] and "Kazwini" [presumably the 13th century Persian astronomical writer Al Kazwini]
Folder: 6 - Articles on the Voynich Roger Bacon Ms
Folder: 7-8 - Notes: ciphers in other Mss; other notes on printed sources
Folder: 9 - Notes on alchemical Mss, etc.
Folder: 10 - Notes for Bacon Cipher; "Key to Aggas"
Folder: 11 - Notes on texts in cryptography
Folder: 12 - Miscellaneous notes and worksheets
Folder: 13 - Bibliographies
Folder: 14 - Photostats of Mss: John Dee (Sloane 3188, 3189, 2599): unidentified
Folder: 15 - Notes on Vatican Latin Ms 3102 [Here's the Jordanus page on this ms, Manly reproduced f27r in his article, while Newbold's book reproduced f27r and f27v opposite p.148 and p.150]
Folder: 16 - "Notes on an Inquiry into the Validity of the Baconian Bi-Literal Cypher for the Interpretation of Certain Writings Claimed for Francis Bacon"
Folder: 17 - Comments on "Sixty Drops of Laudanum," by E.A. Poe
Folder: 18-19 - "The Bi-formed Alphabet Classifier" of the Riverbank Laboratories
Folder: 20 - Notes on Shakespeare/Bacon cipher

Box: 11
Folder: 9 "Roger Bacon and the Voynich Ms" by JMM, reprint [first page is here on JSTOR]

"The E. A. Poe Cryptographic Challenge"...

While looking at Elonka's list of unsolved cipher mysteries while composing my post on the d'Agapeyeff cipher, my eye was drawn to the list of solved cipher mysteries she appended to it, and in particular to "The E. A. Poe Cryptographic Challenge".

Edgar Allan Poe often used codes and ciphers in his stories, most famously in "The Gold-Bug" (which incidentally inspired a very young William Friedman to take up an interest in cryptography). He also asked readers of one popular magazine to send him their ciphers to crack: which he (allegedly) managed to do for the hundred such that arrived.

However, in 1839 Poe published two tricky cryptograms allegedly by "Mr. W. B. Tyler" (probably a Poe pseudonym) which nobody at the time was able to break. These were rediscovered in 1985 by Professor Louis Renza, who then tried to raise their profile: before too long (in 1992), Professor Terence Whalen managed to solve the first one, which turned out to be nothing more complex than a simple monoalphabetic cipher.

The second (still-unbroken) cipher attracted the attention of Professor Shawn Rosenheim, who not only described it in his book The Cryptographic Imagination: Secret Writing from Edgar Poe to the Internet (Johns Hopkins, 1997), but also put up a $2500 prize to attract solvers' attention, with the help of Jim Moore of bokler.com who built a website to promote it.

And then, after Rosenheim and Moore had fielded hundreds of fruitless emails and responses, a software engineer from Toronto called Gil Broza finally cracked the second cipher in October 2000: his decryption is detailed here.

For followers of the Voynich Manuscript, this makes for fairly depressing reading: neither of the "W. B. Tyler" ciphers were, even by the standard of Milanese ciphers circa 1465, particularly tricky, yet Broza had to work really quite hard to solve the second one. He worked out his own transcription, wrote his own software... and then still basically had to break into it by hand, a process made even more difficult by the presence of errors in the ciphertext (which were probably introduced in the typesetting). And people wonder why modern supercomputers can't unravel the secrets of Voynichese - a cipher that is ten times harder than the second Poe Cipher.

The real mystery about Poe is actually the manner of his death: but that's an intriguing story for another day... :-)

The 1860 Road Hill Murder...

The Saturday Guardian "Review" section contained a fascinating summary of "The Suspicions of Mr Whicher; or, the Murder at Road Hill House" (2008, Bloomsbury) by its author Kate Summerscale. In it, she argues that the gruesome events at a country house in Road Hill in Wiltshire (and the police response to them) formed the template for English detective novels, such as in Wilkie Collins' well-known novel "The Moonstone" (1868).

The London detective sent to Road Hill, Inspector Jonathan Whicher, quickly "developed an ingenious solution to the mystery": however, when his theory became publicly known, he was "reviled in the press and the House of Commons", causing him to have a nervous breakdown and to retire from the force. Yet when, five years later, the murderer confessed, the grisly details were essentially as the detective had thought. All too late for poor Whicher, though.

What particularly caught my (Voynichological) eye in Summerscale's article was the Road Hill case's echo in Mary Elizabeth Braddon's (1862) novel "Lady Audley's Secret". Braddon's "tormented amateur detective Robert Audley" fearfully wonders who is the real madman - the woman he suspects of murder, or Audley himself caught in some kind of "obsessive delusion":-

"What if I am wrong after all? What if this chain of evidence which I have constructed link by link is constructed out of my own folly? What if this edifice of horror and suspicion is a mere collection of crotchets - the nervous fancies of a hypochondriacal bachelor? Oh, my God, if it should be in myself all this time that the misery lies."

All of which I think near-perfectly expresses the self-reflective terror that is (or at least should be) ever-present in the Voynichologist: reconstructive imagination perched on a precipice.

Before "The Moonstone", the American history of the detective story goes back to Edgar Allan Poe's (1841) "The Murders in the rue Morgue", a locked room mystery with a surprising twist: but there is something about the English country house - its self-enclosed world of servants, class, envy, superficiality, insularity, etc - that lends itself to novel-length fiction.

Yet this is a false kind of knowledge, as the real Road Hill case demonstrates (Kate Summerscale reveals that Whicher believed two people were complicit in the murder, though only one confessed). In the context of constructing a 250-page book with neat closure, it is attractive: but the real world rarely fits into neatly filed boxes, carefully abstracted case-studies like the ones Harvard Business School professors famously used to construct in the 1960s and 1970s.

To me, this whole Victorian quest for smoking guns - for Holmesian certainty - is a kind of adolescent fantasy thinking, a pipedream of pure causality. In the real world, all we can actually do is sign up for the chase and give it our best shot: perhaps we will reach a satisfactory resolution in our attempts, perhaps we will not. But we must continue to try, all the same.