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]

Become A Voynich Manuscript Expert In Just 5 Minutes...

Note: this article has now moved to become-a-voynich-manuscript-expert-in-just-5-minutes on Cipher Mysteries

Would having "Expert on the Voynich Manuscript" on your CV significantly raise your perceived intellectuality (i.e. an extra ten grand per year on your salary)? It would? Then read on, and I'll reveal the secret two-stage process that They don't want you to find out...

Stage One. You start out by pretending to be a Voynich expert. All you have to know is:

(a) That the two jargon terms for the Voynich Manuscript are "VMs" (because "Ms" or "MS" is short for "manuscript") and "Beinecke MS 408" (because it's 408th in the Beinecke Library's collection of manuscripts);
(b) That the VMs lives at Yale University in New Haven (because that's what the Beinecke Library is part of); and
(c) That the VMs is a mysterious old handwritten book that nobody can read. Not even me!

If you really want, you can also read the Wikipedia VMs page: but apart from the fact that the Voynich Manuscript was [re]discovered in Italy in 1912 by dodgy book dealer Wilfrid Voynich (hence its name), feel free to basically skip the rest.

Incidentally, if you're ever asked about anyone who has written about the VMs (Newbold, Brumbaugh, Terence McKenna, anyone really), any real Voynich expert would nod sympathetically and say "Poor old X - if only they had known what we know now". Of course, this is a big fat lie, because we still know basically sod all about the VMs.

Stage Two. You continue by actually becoming a Voynich expert. This is also easy, as long as you can get a working grasp of the following basic statements:-

• The VMs was probably made by a right-handed European between 1250 and 1640.
  If post-1622, explain how Jacob de Tepenec's signature got on the front
  If post-1500, explain how 15th century quire numbers got on it
  If pre-1450, explain how Leonardo-style hatching ended up in some of the drawings
  
• If the VMs is a language, note that its words don't function like those in real languages
  If the VMs is a cipher, note that it doesn't work like any known cipher
  If the VMs is nonsense, note that its letters appears to follow unknown rules
  If the VMs' plants are botanical, note that most don't resemble real plants

Now all you have to do is to devise your very own really, really lame signature theory. As long as it amuses you and doesn't trample on the above dull bullet-points too badly, congratulations - you're right up there with the big hitters! But how should you construct this new theory?

Actually, it's quite helpful here to project how you feel about your own work onto how you think the original author(s) felt about the VMs. For example, if you think that your own work is meaningless, vacuous nonsense written solely to convince your employers to pay your wages, then you might try devising your own variant of the basic hoax theory template (which argues that the VMs is meaningless, vacuous nonsense written by [insert name here] solely to convince Emperor Rudolph II to pay a rumoured 600 gold ducats).

But be bold in your theorising! Be creative! Perhaps think of some vaguely Renaissance figure you admire (though Leonardo's already taken, and he was left-handed anyway, d'oh!) or just happen to remember, preferably someone whose name you can consistently spell correctly. Wafer-thin historical connections to herbal medicine, astrology, astronomy, ciphers and mystery are probably bonuses here. So, Nostradamus would be a good 'un: Queen Elizabeth I not so good.

But remember, you're not trying to prove your theory is correct here (for what kind of an idiot would attempt that with such scanty evidence, 500-ish years after the event?) Rather, you're just staking your claim to the possibility that [random person X] might have been the author. And the level of proof required to achieve that is, frankly, negligible.

And hey, even if you choose the name with a pin and a biographical dictionary, if it eventually turns out that you are right, think how unbearably smug you'll be. Possibly for decades!

Finally: however bad projecting your own life onto the VMs' blank canvas may be as an historical approach (and believe me, it lies somewhere between 'rubbish' and 'pants'), it is guaranteed to give you plenty of interestingly ironical things to say about the VMs when you're asked about it at those hip higher-earner parties you'll be attending. Oh, and at your book-launch too, naturally. :-)

"The Montefeltro Conspiracy" arrives...

A copy of Marcello Simonetta's new book "The Montefeltro Conspiracy" (2008) has just arrived in the post (I first mentioned it here). I must admit to being a bit excited, as he covers a lot of ground I'd had to wade slowly through in the Italian sources when writing my own book - Cicco Simonetta, Francesco Sforza, the death of Galeazzo Maria Sforza, Italian cryptography - as well as the fascinating web of intrigue and treachery threaded through so many of the condottieri and(mainly Florentine) princes which forms the book's focus.

Really, it's the kind of book I aspired to in "The Curse": a historical account of the politics of cryptography (though the cryptography aspect here is fairly light by comparison). And, quite unexpectedly, Marcello cites my book (though admittedly only in the endnote to p.24 - but hey, it's in the bibliography too, every little citation helps).

Even at a glance, it's obvious that his book is well illustrated, with even some nice pictures of the Urbino intarsia I mentioned here only a few days ago. But I'm getting way ahead of myself now: I have to go away and read it ASAP so that I can post a proper review here...

Strange ciphered message at Fermilab...

Not a big story, but fun all the same. Chris Devers sums it up nicely: a mysterious encrypted message got sent to Fermilab, which was then got (mostly) deciphered as:-

FRANK SHOEMAKER WOULD CALL THIS NOISE
[...]
EMPLOYEE NUMBER BASSE SIXTEEN

...though the middle section has yet to be cracked. Might I suggest: "all your basse are belong to us"...?

20th Century Voynich Manuscript!?

Copies of a curious little apparently enciphered object were being given away in Dillons Arts bookshop about 12 years ago: I saw this last year mentioned on Cylob's blog (he's a musician now living in Berlin), but haven't found any further mention of it anywhere on the Internet.

To my eyes, it looks like a simple substitution cipher (you can see several of the shapes repeating, and you can probably guess at least some of the vowels), with a kind of vaguely pigpenesque quality to them (so there is probably some underlying rationale behind the alphabet). Maybe one day I'll ask Cylob for a copy & post a transcription here...

Navigating Voynich Manuscript f1r...

Seeing the Voynich Manuscript for the first time is quite an intimidating experience: you're looking at something which is so uncertain in so many different ways - how should you try to "read" it?

In general, when you look at a page of text, you do two different types of reading: (1) you work out how everything is laid out (you navigate the page) and (2) you read what is contained within it (you read the text). In computer science terms, you could describe the layout conventions and text conventions as having two quite separate 'grammars'.

For instance, if you picked up a Hungarian newspaper, I would predict that you would stand a good chance of being able to work out its structure, even though you may not be able to understand a single word. It's perfectly reasonable, then, to be able to navigate a page without being able to read it.

What's not widely known about the Voynich Manuscript is that researchers have identified many of the navigational elements that structure the text (even though they cannot actually read them). I thought it might be helpful to post about these (oh, and I'm getting emails mildly berated me for posting too much about the wrong 'v', i.e. that it's not "Vampire News").

As a practical example, let's look at the very first page of the manuscript proper: this has the name "f1r" (which means "the recto [front] side of folio [double-sided page] #1"). You may also see this referred to as "f001r" (some people use this naming style so that their image files get sorted nicely), or even as "1006076.sid" (this is the Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library's internal database reference for the high-resolution scan of f1r, which they store as a kind of highly compressed image). This is what f1r looks like:-

Note that the green splodges aren't actually part of the page itself - they're green leaves painted onto the reverse side of the folio (that is, on f1v, "folio #1 verso [back]") that happen to be visible through the vellum. I'll leave the issue of whether this is because the paint is too thick or the vellum is too thin to another day...

If we use a tricky colour filter written by Jon Grove (more on it here), we can make a passable attempt at removing the green splodges: and if we then bump up the contrast to make everything a little clearer, we can get a revised image of f1r:-


Red areas: these form the first four paragraphs of the text. These often start with one of four large vertical characters (known as "gallows characters"), and appear to have been written from top-left down to bottom-right, as you would English, French, Latin etc.

Blue areas: these are known as "titles", and are typically right-aligned words or short phrases added to the end of paragraphs. It has been proposed that the text contained in these might actually be section titles (which seems fairly reasonable). There's a brief discussion on this by (a differently spelled!) John Grove here, who first suggested the term.

Yellow area: this is a cipher key arranged vertically down the right hand side of the page that someone has written in (and only partially filled before giving up) in a 16th century hand. Though a bit indistinct, you can still make out "a b c d e" at the top left and a few other letters besides.

Bright green areas: these odd shapes appear nowhere else, and are generally referred to as "weirdoes" (for want of a better name). Interestingly, these are picked out in bright red: f67r2 is the only other place with red text that I can think of (the page that was originally on the front of what is now Quire 9).

Dull green area: this is where the earliest proven owner wrote his signature (something like "Jacobus de Tepenecz, Prag", though it is very hard to make out), which a subsequent owner appears to have (quite literally) scrubbed off the page (if you look carefully, you can see what appears to be two or more watermarks at the edges of the area). The question of why someone would want to do this is a matter for another day...

Pink area: hidden in the top right corner next to some wormholes and the folio number ("1", in a sixteenth century hand) is a very faint picture, possibly of a bird. Surprisingly, this subtle piece of marginalia doesn't appear in GC's otherwise-very-good gallery of Voynich marginalia: so here's an enhanced picture of it so you can see what I'm talking about:-.

So, even if we can't yet read f1r's text, can we navigate its layout? I believe we can! From the presence of red text, I'm fairly certain it was the first page of a quire: and from the signature and weathering, I don't see any reason to think this was ever bound anywhere apart from at the front of the manuscript. This leads me to predict that the set of four paragraphs forms an index to the manuscript as a whole, and so very probably describe four separate "books" or "works", where the "title" (appended to the end of the paragraph) is indeed the title of that book.

If you were looking for cribs to crack the titles :-) , my best guess is that the first book (section) is a herbal, the second book is on the stars (astronomy and astrology), the third book is on water, while the fourth book comprises recipes and secrets. I also suspect that this index page was composed about three-quarters of the way through the project, and that the (really quite strange) Herbal-B pages were added in a subsequent phase. But, once again, that's another story entirely...

"Codes and Ciphers through The Middle Ages"...

I happened upon the following post a few days ago here, and thought I ought to reproduce it here for anyone that's interested (the cryptography history lane tends to be filled with caravans, and as a result is somewhat slow-moving). When the volume finally appears (in 2009?), I'll be just as interested in the paper on the Voynich Manuscript as the rest of it. Having said that, I'm a bit concerned that Kahn is not only misspelt but a little bit misrepresented (for instance, Kahn discusses medieval Arabic cryptology on pp.89-99) in the blurb.

Oh, and they're not interested in publishing two papers on the VMs in the same volume. Just so you know not to offer them one (like I did, *sigh*).

* * * * * * * *

Call for contributions for a volume of collected essays:

Codes and Ciphers through The Middle Ages

This call is designed to expand and enhance an essay collection that is based on two panels entitled “Codes and Ciphers through The Middle Ages,” which took place at the International Congress on Medieval Studies, Kalamazoo MI, in 2006 and 2007.
It seeks to fill a major gap in the study of codes and ciphers in the medieval world. The codes and ciphers of the Middle Ages have received little or no modern scholarly attention. David Khan’s 1181-page volume _The Code-Breakers: The Comprehensive History of Secret Communication from Ancient Times to the Internet_, for example, devotes a mere thirty-four pages to the ancient and classical world, and little more than one sentence to the Middle Ages, claiming that “ciphers, of course, had been used by monks throughout the Middle Ages for scribal amusement” (106). But the construction and use of codes, ciphers, secret languages and mathematical secrets in the Middle Ages were much more than amusement: they were central to intellectual culture as modes of concealing dangerous, magical or secret information, and as a means of connecting oneself to the divine. As such, they appear in the writings of major figures ranging from Isidore of Seville to Hrabanus Maurus, Alcuin and Hildegard of Bingen. They also figure in the manuscripts of lesser known students of magic in Heidelberg, and numerous anonymous texts and manuscripts including Anglo-Saxon riddles, Old Norse literature and runes, and the computus. Clearly, codes and ciphers were a multilingual, cross-period, inter-cultural phenomenon in the Middle Ages; they warrant more scholarly attention. Given current emphases on “security,” and the proliferation of forms of encryption on the internet, fostering scholarly discussion of history of cryptography seems especially relevant to the 21st century. Current contributions address the uses of codes, ciphers, secret languages and mathematics in the writings of Hildegard, the Voynich Manuscript, Anglo-Saxon riddles, Hrabanus Maurus’ _In honorem sanctae crucis_, the Pseudo-Bedan _Propositiones_ and the _Propositiones ad Acuendos Juvenes_ attributed to Alcuin. While we welcome contributions on any aspect of codes and ciphers in any period of the Middle Ages, we are especially interested in essays that will widen the scope and increase the depth of the collection.

Please submit detailed abstracts or drafts of essays (style: CMS 14th edition) by 1 July 2008 to: Sharon M. Rowley at srowley@cnu.edu or rowley_sharon@hotmail.com

The d'Agapayeff Cipher, continued...

In a recent post, I mentioned the idea that the d'Agapeyeff cipher might involve a diagonal transposition on the 14x14 grid cryptologists suspect it may well have been based upon. To test this out a bit, I wrote a short C++ program (which I've uploaded here) which turns the number pairs into characters (for convenience) and prints out all four diagonal transpositions (forward, reverse, forward boustrophedon, reverse boustrophedon) starting from each of the four corners.

Because the number of doubled and tripled letters is a simple measure of whether a transposition is likely to be plausible or not, I counted those up as well. The next metric to calculate would be the unique letter adjacency count (i.e. how many unique pairs of letters appear for each ordering)... but that's a task for another day.

Interestingly, transpositions starting from the top-left corner (and their reverse-order reflections in the bottom-right corner) have no triple-letters at all, as well as far fewer double-letters (9/10/11 compared to 13/14/15) than transpositions that start from the top-right. Though intriguing, I don't know if this is statistically significant: I haven't determined what the predicted doublet and triplet count would be for a totally randomised transposition, perhaps calculating that too that would be a good idea.

For any passing cryptologers, here is the ASCII version of the d'Agapeyeff cipher (as output by the C++ code) when arranged as a 14x14 grid (in numerical order but without J), followed by the 16 diagonal transpositions with their associated double & triple counts. My guess is that the top left corner reverse diagonal transposition (the second one down, starting "KBDMIDPIK...") is most likely to be the correct transposition, but we shall see (hopefully!) if this is true...

K B M P Q B Q D L D Q I P O
D I I M O N L C L L I I M B
D K N M O Q K I E N K K K S
C E E L C L K P K K D B M R
P I C M K I N L E L O P D P
D P P C M G B N B L L G L D
C K M L D N C M P L C C C Y
I L Q Q O C P O E D P E B T
B B P Q P Q I Q G K D E K F
E N B D I L M O B M D Q L S
E B D O O Q N P I Q L E G I
N N P M N D B G B E B N K R
G C M M G G N M P O K M L N
G O B M N K L D K I P L B R

*** Top left corner ***
Forward order...
KDBDIMCKIPPENMQDIEMOBCPCLONQIKPMCQLDBLMCKLKCLEBQLMIKILDE
NPQDGNPELQNBBQONBLKNIIGNDDPCCNEKKIPGCPOIQPMBLDKMOOMMOLIO
PLOBKBBMNQMQELLPMSMGDNOGDCGDRNGBPBKPCLPKNGIMDECDLMBQDEBY
DPELQKTKOBELFIKNGSPMKILLRBNR
--> number of doubles = 11, number of triples = 0
Reverse order...
KBDMIDPIKCQMNEPBOMEIDQNOLCPCDLQCMPKILCKLKCMLBDLIKIMLQBEQ
LEPNGDQPNEIINKLBNOQBBNPIKKENCCPDDNGOMKDLBMPQIOPCGBKBOLPO
ILOMMOSMPLLEQMQNMBRDGCDGONDGMPLCPKBPBGNDCEDMIGNKYBEDQBML
TKQLEPDFLEBOKSGNKIIKMPRLLNBR
--> number of doubles = 9, number of triples = 0
Simple boustrophedon (forward then reverse)...
KBDDIMPIKCPENMQBOMEIDCPCLONQDLQCMPKIBLMCKLKCLDLIKIMLQBEE
NPQDGNPELQIINKLBNOQBBNGNDDPCCNEKKIPOMKDLBMPQIOPCGOMMOLIO
PLOBKBSMPLLEQMQNMBMGDNOGDCGDRPLCPKBPBGNKNGIMDECDYBEDQBML
DPELQKTFLEBOKIKNGSIKMPLLRNBR
--> number of doubles = 10, number of triples = 0
Reverse boustrophedon (reverse then forward)...
KDBMIDCKIPQMNEPDIEMOBQNOLCPCIKPMCQLDLCKLKCMLBEBQLMIKILDQ
LEPNGDQPNENBBQONBLKNIIPIKKENCCPDDNGGCPOIQPMBLDKMOBKBOLPO
ILOMMOBMNQMQELLPMSRDGCDGONDGMNGBPBKPCLPDCEDMIGNKLMBQDEBY
TKQLEPDKOBELFSGNKIPMKIRLLBNR
--> number of doubles = 9, number of triples = 0

*** Top right corner ***
Forward order...
OPBIMSQIKRDIKMPLLKBDDDLNDPLYQCEKOGCTBLIKLLCBFQNKPELCEKSP
OQKLBLPELIMMOLNNPDDQGRBIMCIBMEKDEKNKINLKGCOGMLNLRDKEMMNP
QBQBMBDECCDCIOIEKLCIPLOQMPBOPPPMQPLNGPIDKQQIQBMKCLPDODND
IBBONGLBNDMGKEBPMNENMMNCBGOG
--> number of doubles = 14, number of triples = 2
Reverse order...
OBPSMIRKIQPMKIDDDBKLLYLPDNLDTCGOKECQFBCLLKILBSKECLEPKNQI
LEPLBLKQOPRGQDDPNNLOMMNKEDKEMBICMIBRLNLMGOCGKLNIKBMBQBQP
NMMEKDLKEIOICDCCEDPOBPMQOLPICIPGNLPQMPPKMBQIQQKDDNDODPLC
LGNOBBIKGMDNBNMPBEMMNEBCNOGG
--> number of doubles = 15, number of triples = 1
Simple boustrophedon (forward then reverse)...
OBPIMSRKIQDIKMPDDBKLLDLNDPLYTCGOKECQBLIKLLCBFSKECLEPKNQP
OQKLBLPELIRGQDDPNNLOMMBIMCIBMEKDEKNRLNLMGOCGKLNIKDKEMMNP
QBQBMBLKEIOICDCCEDCIPLOQMPBOPIPGNLPQMPPDKQQIQBMKDNDODPLC
IBBONGLKGMDNBEBPMNMMNENCBOGG
--> number of doubles = 13, number of triples = 0
Reverse boustrophedon (reverse then forward)...
OPBSMIQIKRPMKIDLLKBDDYLPDNLDQCEKOGCTFBCLLKILBQNKPELCEKSI
LEPLBLKQOPMMOLNNPDDQGRNKEDKEMBICMIBKINLKGCOGMLNLRBMBQBQP
NMMEKDDECCDCIOIEKLPOBPMQOLPICPPMQPLNGPIKMBQIQQKDCLPDODND
LGNOBBIBNDMGKNMPBEENMMBCNGOG
--> number of doubles = 14, number of triples = 0

*** Bottom right corner ***
Forward order...
RNBRLLIKMPSGNKIFLEBOKTKQLEPDYBEDQBMLDCEDMIGNKPLCPKBPBGNR
DGCDGONDGMSMPLLEQMQNMBBKBOLPOILOMMOOMKDLBMPQIOPCGPIKKENC
CPDDNGIINKLBNOQBBNQLEPNGDQPNEDLIKIMLQBELCKLKCMLBDLQCMPKI
QNOLCPCBOMEIDQMNEPPIKCMIDBDK
--> number of doubles = 11, number of triples = 0
Reverse order...
RBNLLRPMKIIKNGSKOBELFDPELQKTLMBQDEBYKNGIMDECDNGBPBKPCLPM
GDNOGDCGDRBMNQMQELLPMSOMMOLIOPLOBKBGCPOIQPMBLDKMOGNDDPCC
NEKKIPNBBQONBLKNIIENPQDGNPELQEBQLMIKILDBLMCKLKCLIKPMCQLD
CPCLONQDIEMOBPENMQCKIPDIMDBK
--> number of doubles = 9, number of triples = 0
Simple boustrophedon (forward then reverse)...
RBNRLLPMKISGNKIKOBELFTKQLEPDLMBQDEBYDCEDMIGNKNGBPBKPCLPR
DGCDGONDGMBMNQMQELLPMSBKBOLPOILOMMOGCPOIQPMBLDKMOPIKKENC
CPDDNGNBBQONBLKNIIQLEPNGDQPNEEBQLMIKILDLCKLKCMLBIKPMCQLD
QNOLCPCDIEMOBQMNEPCKIPMIDDBK
--> number of doubles = 10, number of triples = 0
Reverse boustrophedon (reverse then forward)...
RNBLLRIKMPIKNGSFLEBOKDPELQKTYBEDQBMLKNGIMDECDPLCPKBPBGNM
GDNOGDCGDRSMPLLEQMQNMBOMMOLIOPLOBKBOMKDLBMPQIOPCGGNDDPCC
NEKKIPIINKLBNOQBBNENPQDGNPELQDLIKIMLQBEBLMCKLKCLDLQCMPKI
CPCLONQBOMEIDPENMQPIKCDIMBDK
--> number of doubles = 9, number of triples = 0

*** Bottom left corner ***
Forward order...
GOGBCNMMNENMPBEKGMDNBLGNOBBIDNDODPLCKMBQIQQKDIPGNLPQMPPP
OBPMQOLPICLKEIOICDCCEDBMBQBQPNMMEKDRLNLMGOCGKLNIKNKEDKEM
BICMIBRGQDDPNNLOMMILEPLBLKQOPSKECLEPKNQFBCLLKILBTCGOKECQ
YLPDNLDDDBKLLPMKIDRKIQSMIBPO
--> number of doubles = 14, number of triples = 2
Reverse order...
GGONCBENMMEBPMNBNDMGKIBBONGLCLPDODNDDKQQIQBMKPPMQPLNGPIC
IPLOQMPBOPDECCDCIOIEKLDKEMMNPQBQBMBKINLKGCOGMLNLRBIMCIBM
EKDEKNMMOLNNPDDQGRPOQKLBLPELIQNKPELCEKSBLIKLLCBFQCEKOGCT
DLNDPLYLLKBDDDIKMPQIKRIMSPBO
--> number of doubles = 15, number of triples = 1
Simple boustrophedon (forward then reverse)...
GGOBCNENMMNMPBEBNDMGKLGNOBBICLPDODNDKMBQIQQKDPPMQPLNGPIP
OBPMQOLPICDECCDCIOIEKLBMBQBQPNMMEKDKINLKGCOGMLNLRNKEDKEM
BICMIBMMOLNNPDDQGRILEPLBLKQOPQNKPELCEKSFBCLLKILBQCEKOGCT
YLPDNLDLLKBDDPMKIDQIKRSMIPBO
--> number of doubles = 13, number of triples = 0
Reverse boustrophedon (reverse then forward)...
GOGNCBMMNEEBPMNKGMDNBIBBONGLDNDODPLCDKQQIQBMKIPGNLPQMPPC
IPLOQMPBOPLKEIOICDCCEDDKEMMNPQBQBMBRLNLMGOCGKLNIKBIMCIBM
EKDEKNRGQDDPNNLOMMPOQKLBLPELISKECLEPKNQBLIKLLCBFTCGOKECQ
DLNDPLYDDBKLLDIKMPRKIQIMSBPO
--> number of doubles = 14, number of triples = 0

The d'Agapeyeff Cipher, revisited...

I know, I did blog about this only three days ago: but science moves ever onwards, OK?

A nice email arrived from Robert Matthews, the author of an excellent page on the d'Agapeyeff Cipher: he mentioned that he had received an email in February 2006 from John Willemse in Holland, who had suggested a novel kind of transposition cipher based around a spiral:-

I'm in no way a cipher expert, but I am a very curious person and I was wondering if the positioning of the 14x14 digram table could have anything to do with a spiral. The reason I suspect this, is that a spiraling positioning of numbers have the property that each upperleft corner of such a spiral (when starting with zero in the center) is a perfect square number. I'll try to illustrate my point:

16 15 14 13 12
17 .4 .3 .2 11 ..
18 .5 .0 .1 10 ..
19 .6 .7 .8 .9 26
20 21 22 23 24 25

Starting from zero, and counting up, anti-clockwise, you will encounter a perfect square of each even number in the topleft corner. 196 is also such a number.

The '04' digram almost in the center could be a break point. If you 'break' after the zero and shift the 4 to the right, creating a new set of digrams, you end up with a set of digrams before the zero and a set after the zero. The set after the zero should probably be reversed, either the whole set or the individual digrams, to create a similar set as the first one (the digrams starting with higher digits and ending with lower digits).

You might then be able to construct a spiral like positioning, with the zero in the center or the zero obmitted. The first set might then be 'twisted' around it clockwise, and the second set anti-clockwise, possibly interweaving each other.

These are just some wild ideas, and I'm in no way capable of constructing and verifying such a table myself, but maybe it's something to investigate?

Willemse's idea is certainly interesting: but let's look again at the (derived) 14x14 layout. To recap: one of the reasons for suspecting that transposition is involved is that there are two sets of horizontal tripled letters (75 75 75 and 63 63 63), while one of the reasons for suspecting that it's not a 'matrix transpose' diagonal flip is that there are two sets of vertical tripled letters (81 81 81 and 82 82 82). That is, unless the plaintext sadistically contains a phrase like "SEPIA AARDVARK" (a phrase which, I'm delighted to note, Google believes currently appears nowhere else on the Internet).

75 62 82 85 91 62 91 64 81 64 91 74 85 84
64 74 74 82 84 83 81 63 81 81 74 74 82 62
64 75 83 82 84 91 75 74 65 83 75 75 75 93
63 65 65 81 63 81 75 85 75 75 64 62 82 92
85 74 63 82 75 74 83 81 65 81 84 85 64 85
64 85 85 63 82 72 62 83 62 81 81 72 81 64
63 75 82 81 64 83 63 82 85 81 63 63 63 04
74 81 91 91 84 63 85 84 65 64 85 65 62 94
62 62 85 91 85 91 74 91 72 75 64 65 75 71
65 83 62 64 74 81 82 84 62 82 64 91 81 93
65 62 64 84 84 91 83 85 74 91 81 65 72 74
83 83 85 82 83 64 62 72 62 65 62 83 75 92
72 63 82 82 72 72 83 82 85 84 75 82 81 83
72 84 62 82 83 75 81 64 75 74 85 81 62 92

From this, it seems that, yes, you could construct a large number of spiral transpositions without tripled letter sequences. Yet I'm not completely convinced by the idea that the 04 token is a good indicator for the centre of a spiral: from the substitution cipher angle, I'd be quite happy to tag that as a likely 'X' or 'Y' in the plaintext instead.

However, I would point out that if you examine the various diagonal transpositions of the 14x14 (i.e. reading through the 14x14 one diagonal line at a time), there is (unless I'm somehow mistaken) apparently only a single tripled letter in two of them, and that only over a line-break:-

75 62 82 85 91 62 91 64 81 64 91 74 85 84
64 74 74 82 84 83 81 63 81 81 74 74 82 62
64 75 83 82 84 91 75 74 65 83 75 75 75 93
63 65 65 81 63 81 75 85 75 75 64 62 82 92
85 74 63 82 75 74 83 81 65 81 84 85 64 85
64 85 85 63 82 72 62 83 62 81 81 72 81 64
63 75 82 81 64 83 63 82 85 81 63 63 63 04
74 81 91 91 84 63 85 84 65 64 85 65 62 94
62 62 85 91 85 91 74 91 72 75 64 65 75 71
65 83 62 64 74 81 82 84 62 82 64 91 81 93
65 62 64 84 84 91 83 85 74 91 81 65 72 74
83 83 85 82 83 64 62 72 62 65 62 83 75 92
72 63 82 82 72 72 83 82 85 84 75 82 81 83
72 84 62 82 83 75 81 64 75 74 85 81 62 92

All in all, Willemse's idea of a spiral transposition does seem intriguing: but perhaps a little more psychologically ornate than d'Agapeyeff would have considered necessary as an exercise for the reader. If I were actively looking for a solution to this cipher (which I'm not), I would instead start with the four basic diagonal transpositions of the 14x14, and see if they led anywhere interesting... you never know! :-)

The d'Agapeyeff Cipher...

Back in 1939, Alexander d'Agapeyeff wrote a tidy little book called "Codes and Ciphers" on cryptography history: though you can now buy it print-on-demand, cheap copies of the original book often come up on the various second-hand book aggregators (such as bookfinder.com), which is where I got my copy of the "Revised and reset" 1949 edition.

What is now generally understood is that d'Agapeyeff wasn't really a cryptographer per se: he had previously written a similar book on cartography for the same publisher, and so thought to tackle cryptography.

On the very last page of the text (p.144), d'Agapeyeff dropped in a little cipher challenge, saying "Here is a cryptogram upon which the reader is invited to test his skill."

75628 28591 62916 48164 91748 58464 74748 28483 81638 18174
74826 26475 83828 49175 74658 37575 75936 36565 81638 17585
75756 46282 92857 46382 75748 38165 81848 56485 64858 56382
72628 36281 81728 16463 75828 16483 63828 58163 63630 47481
91918 46385 84656 48565 62946 26285 91859 17491 72756 46575
71658 36264 74818 28462 82649 18193 65626 48484 91838 57491
81657 27483 83858 28364 62726 26562 83759 27263 82827 27283
82858 47582 81837 28462 82837 58164 75748 58162 92000

This modest little cryptogram, now known as "the d'Agapayeff Cipher", has somehow remained unbroken for 70 years, and is often to be found alongside the Voynich Manuscript on lists of cipher enigmas.

The first thing to note is that adjacent columns are formed alternately from 67890 and 12345 characters respectively: which is a huge hint that what we are looking at is (in part, at least) a grid cipher, where each pair of numbers gives a position in a grid. If so, then we can throw away the "patristrocat" spaces between the blocks of numbers and rearrange them as pairs.

75 62 82 85 91 62 91 64 81 64 91 74 85 84 64 74 74 82 84 83 81 63 81 81 74
74 82 62 64 75 83 82 84 91 75 74 65 83 75 75 75 93 63 65 65 81 63 81 75 85
75 75 64 62 82 92 85 74 63 82 75 74 83 81 65 81 84 85 64 85 64 85 85 63 82
72 62 83 62 81 81 72 81 64 63 75 82 81 64 83 63 82 85 81 63 63 63 04 74 81
91 91 84 63 85 84 65 64 85 65 62 94 62 62 85 91 85 91 74 91 72 75 64 65 75
71 65 83 62 64 74 81 82 84 62 82 64 91 81 93 65 62 64 84 84 91 83 85 74 91
81 65 72 74 83 83 85 82 83 64 62 72 62 65 62 83 75 92 72 63 82 82 72 72 83
82 85 84 75 82 81 83 72 84 62 82 83 75 81 64 75 74 85 81 62 92 00 0[0]

The first hint that the order of these might have been scrambled ('transposed') comes from the two sets of tripled letters: 75 75 75 and 63 63 63. Five centuries ago, even Cicco Simonetta and his Milanese cipher clerks knew that tripled letters are very rare (the only one in Latin is "uvula", 'little egg'). The second hint that this is a transposition cipher is the total number of characters (apart from the "00" filler at the end): 14x14. If we discard the filler & rearrange the grid we get:-

75 62 82 85 91 62 91 64 81 64 91 74 85 84
64 74 74 82 84 83 81 63 81 81 74 74 82 62
64 75 83 82 84 91 75 74 65 83 75 75 75 93
63 65 65 81 63 81 75 85 75 75 64 62 82 92
85 74 63 82 75 74 83 81 65 81 84 85 64 85
64 85 85 63 82 72 62 83 62 81 81 72 81 64
63 75 82 81 64 83 63 82 85 81 63 63 63 04
74 81 91 91 84 63 85 84 65 64 85 65 62 94
62 62 85 91 85 91 74 91 72 75 64 65 75 71
65 83 62 64 74 81 82 84 62 82 64 91 81 93
65 62 64 84 84 91 83 85 74 91 81 65 72 74
83 83 85 82 83 64 62 72 62 65 62 83 75 92
72 63 82 82 72 72 83 82 85 84 75 82 81 83
72 84 62 82 83 75 81 64 75 74 85 81 62 92

This is very probably the starting point for the real cryptography (though the presence of tripled characters in the columns implies that it probably isn't a simple "matrix-like" diagonal transposition. Essentially, it seems that we now have to solve a 14x14 transposition cipher and a 5x5 substitution cipher simultaneously, over a relatively small cryptogram - an immense number of combinations to explore.

However, we know that d'Agapeyeff wasn't a full-on cryptographer, so we should really explore the psychological angle before going crazy with an 800-year-long brute-force search. For a start, if you lay out the frequencies for the 5x5 letter grid (with 12345 on top, 67890 on the left), a pattern immediately appears:-

** .1 .2 .3 .4 .5
6. _0 17 12 16 11
7. _1 _9 _0 14 17
8. 20 17 15 11 17
9. 12 _3 _2 _1 _0
0. _0 _0 _0 _1 _0

Here, the 61 (top-left) frequency is 0, the 73 frequency is 0, and the final nine frequencies are 3, 2, 1, 0; 0, 0, 0, 1, 0. I think this points to a 5x5 mapping generated by a keyphrase, such as "Alexander d'Agapeyeff is cool" (for example). To make a keyphrase into a 5x5 alphabet, turn all Js into Is (say), remove all duplicate letters (and so it becomes ALEXNDRGPYFISCO), and then pad to the end with any unused characters in the alphabet in sequence (BHKMQTUVWZ)

* 1 2 3 4 5
6 A L E X N
7 D R G P Y
8 F I S C O
9 B H K M Q
0 T U V W Z

For a long-ish (but language-like) keyphrase, rare characters would tend to get moved to the end of the block: which is what we appear to see in the frequency counts above, suggesting that the final few letters are (for example) W X Y Z or W X Z.

Yet 61 and 73 have frequency counts of zero, which points to their being really rare letters (like Q or Z). However, if you read the frequency counts as strings, 61 62 63 = 0 17 12, while 73 74 75 = 0 14 17: which perhaps points to the first letter of the keyphrase (i.e. 61) being a rare consonant, and the second pair being Q U followed by a vowel. Might 73 74 75 76 77 be QUIET or QUITE?

I don't (of course) know: but I do strongly suspect that it might be possible for a cunning cryptographer to crack d'Agapeyeff's keyphrase quite independently of his transposition cipher. It can't be that hard, can it? ;-p

----------
Update: a follow-up post is here...

Markov models and line-initial letters...

Once upon a time (as most Voynich research stories begin) around 2003, there was a brief fad amongst VMs mailing list members for constructing Markov (state-based) models for Voynichese. My own (in retrospect not so good) contribution looked like this: incidentally, this is hosted as part of a "non-systematic miscellany of Voynich-related documents, scans, diagrams and images" here on my personal pages.

I'm currently thinking about revisiting this whole Markov model thing, but using tokenised adjacency tables to help construct it. That is, first tokenise the selected text (Currier A pages, Currier B pages, labels, etc) according to a set of predetermined frequent (possibly verbose cipher) pairs (such as ol, or, al, ar, am, aiiii, aiii, aii, ai, qo, etc), then build up a large "adjacency table" (i.e. counting the occurrence of adjacent tokens in a 2d grid, first token indexed up the left, second token across the top).

It might be said that the whole point of constructing Markov models is to work out what the tokens are. To which I would reply that trying to work out both word structure and token structure within the same model has to date proved unhelpful. In fact, I think the overloaded way that "a" and "o" are used within Voynichese (for example, the "o" in "qo" is unlikely to be the same kind of "o" in "ol") may well be a sign that these were deliberately designed to confuse decipherers as to the structure of the tokens, in a tricky Quattrocento Sforza cipher sort of way.

Or, in terms of signal processing, I'd say that the verbose cipher convolves the text signal, blurring away most of the sharp boundaries in the underlying plaintext you're hoping to model.

The new twist I have on all this is to exclude a lot of noise when collecting the adjacency stats, in particular the first tokens of each line. This thought came from a recent email exchange with Marke Fincher, who reminded me that the first letter of each line is often unreliable, and in particular...

Check out lines which include the EVA-strings "YSHEO" and "YCHEO".
These strings are almost always line-initial, and probably because the Y is in fact data from a vertical column of symbols.
Ditto for "dche" I think.

(By the way, I think "eo" occurs twice as often in A pages than B pages.)

Thinking about line-initial letters, if you take a random page from the VMs (say, f77r) and look at the first column of tokens (I used Takeshi Takahashi's VMs transcription for the following), you'll see that its elements typically come from a very limited group: the "s qo s qo s qo" sequence near the start could be deliberate padding, rather than just coincidence or a coded reference to an early line-up of Catford's finest band "Status Quo" (as I suspect Francis Rossi was born post-Renaissance):-

p t qo s qo s qo s qo d qo qo che qo sheo d ot qo s ol s qo qo q d qo s d t p ol d d qo d shee qo d y s

Yet if you look at the form of the "s" characters when written as the first character of the line (which occurs more in B pages than in A pages, I think) as appear on the page, you can see various subtle scribal forms of it appearing: "round head s", "flat head s", "short s", "long s", etc. Might these be a kind of steganographic anti-transcription cipher? It's certainly a thought..

The Golden Dawn Cipher Manuscripts...

Joseph Campbell wrote extensively about the "Hero's Journey", his condensation of mythology into the single ur-story (often referred to as the "monomyth")beneath it all. In recent decades, Campbell's work was popularized by Chris Vogler in his book "The Writer's Journey", that distilled the original 17 stages to a 12-stage / 3-act writing template. All of which makes the recent Hollywood writer's strike seem to me potentially anachronistic: in 10 years time, the [Auto-Plot] button will probably have put them all out of a job anyway.

Incidentally, if you're familiar with the "Patterns" literature (where recurring patterns of behaviour are given names in order that people can recognize them and manage their causes, rather than simply fire-fighting their consequences), you should be very comfortable with the monomyth: it's basically a pattern template for mythological behaviours.

The first of Campbell's stages is the "Call To Adventure": someone (a Herald) or something (a Macguffin, say) challenges the Hero (and, behind the scenes, often the Anti-Hero too) to take temporary leave of his Ordinary World (DullWorld) to enter the Special World of the Macguffin (DangerWorld). Stage Two is where the Hero says: errrm, thanks... but no thanks, I'm actually quite happy here sweeping the floors [A.K.A. "Refusal of the Call"], while Stage Three is where the unseen writing Gods swoosh the Hero up like the miserable piece of snot he is and propel him onwards to his adventure in DangerWorld, whether he likes it or not [A.K.A. "Supernatural Aid"]. Because, let's face it, only a nutter would place themselves in danger for no reason.

In the case of the Voynich Manuscript, most people are happy to enjoy the frisson of danger that comes with the Refusal of the Call: a cipher manuscript is all too obviously a Macguffin, a siren call to a mad textual adventure that you simply wouldn't wish on anyone (let alone yourself). Anyone (such as myself) who has spent any significant time in the VMs' World Of Research Agony will readily verify that this is basically the case.

But I find it fascinating that the founding mythology of the 19th century Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn was built around claimed cipher manuscripts. These had been owned by masonic scholar Kenneth Mackenzie, then found in a cupboard by Rev. A.F.A. Woodford in 1885, and then deciphered by William Wynn Westcott - the plaintext was in English, but had apparently been encrypted using a 15th century Trithemian-style cipher. Westcott then supposedly wrote to someone called Fraulein Anna Sprengel (whose contact details had helpfully been enciphered, though I can see no sign of them in the 56 released folios), who made him and his two collaborators "Exempt Adepts": and gave them a charter to work the five initiatory grades described in the cipher manuscripts.

Are the cipher manuscripts in any way genuine? Though the paper used for the 60 folios of the cipher was watermarked 1809, the association it mentions between the Tarot trumps and the Tree of Life was first proposed by Eliphas Levi only in 1855. And, for me, the simple act of using 45-year-old paper (never mind the constantly changing story surrounding the object, and the continued inability to find Anna Sprengel) makes me suspect that deception (or, at the very least, some kind of misleading myth-making) was intended right from the start.

Doubtless many of the hundreds of initiates who felt compelled by the unseen Gods to accept this Call to Adventure heartily enjoyed their foray into the Golden Dawn's DangerWorld. But regardless, the Cipher Manuscript at the heart of the constructed myth seems to have been nothing more than a Macguffin: Refusal of the Call is often exactly the right place to stop.

The Book of Soyga, revisited...

It's a nice historical detective story, one kicked off by John Dee, Frances Yates' favourite Elizabethan 'magus' (though I personally suspect Dee's 'magic' was probably less 'magickal' than it might appear), when he claimed to have told an angel that his "great and long desyre hath byn to be hable to read those tables of Soyga". Dee lost his precious copy of the "Book of Soyga" (but then managed to find it again): when subsequently Elias Ashmole owned it, he noted that its incipit (starting words) was "Aldaraia sive Soyga vocor...".

However, since Ashmole's day it was thought to have joined the serried, densely-stacked ranks of long-disappeared books and manuscripts, in the "blue-tinted gloom" of some mythical, subterranean library not unlike the "Cemetery of Lost Books" in Carlos Ruiz Zafon's novel "The Shadow of the Wind" (2004)...

Fast-forward 400 years to 1994, and what do you know? Just like rush hour buses, two copies of the "Book of Soyga" turn up at once, both found by Deborah Harkness. Rather than searching for "Soyga", she searched for its "Aldaraia..." incipit: which is, of course, what you were supposed to do (in the bad old days before the Internet).

It is a strange, transitional document, neither properly medieval (the text has few references to authority) nor properly Renaissance. There are some mysterious books referenced, such as the Liber Sipal and the Liber Munob: readers of my book "The Curse of the Voynich" may recognize these as simple back-to-front anagrams (Sipal = Lapis [stone], Munob = Bonum [Good], Retap Retson = Pater Noster [our Father]). In fact, Soyga itself is Agyos [saint] backwards.

But what was the secret hidden behind the 36 mysterious "tables of Soyga" that had vexed John Dee so? 36x36 square grids filled with oddly patterned letters, they look like some kind of unknown cryptographic structure. Might they hold a big secret, or might they (like many of Trithemius' concealed texts) just be nonsense, a succession of quick brown foxes endlessly jumping over lazy dogs?

• oyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoy
  rkfaqtyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyo
  rxxqnkoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoy
  azzsxbqtyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyo
  sheimasddtguoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoy
  eyuaoiismspkfaqtyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyo
  enlxflfudzrxxqnkoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoy
  sxcahqczfbtfzsxbqtyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyo
  azepxhheurgmyknqnkoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoy
  rlbriyzycuyddpotxbqtyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyo
  ryrezabirhdiszeknqnkoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoy
  ogzgfceztqalpntsxhssyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyo
  opnxxsnodxqhuekknykkoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoy
  rcqsfueesfsqrqgqrossyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyo
  roauxmdkkxkhyhmpzqphdtgtguoyoyoyoyoy
  aqxmudiamubkoqifbszktdmspkfaqtyoyoyo
  sazoesrmlrnaqnzhgabmsmlpeahfsddtguoy
  ....................................
  (etc)

Jim Reeds, one of the great historical code-breakers of modern times, stepped forward unto the breach to see what he could make of these strange tables: he transcribed them, ran a few tests, and (thank heavens) worked out the three-stage algorithm with which they were generated.

Stage 1: fill in the 36-high left-hand column (which I've highlighted in blue above) with a six-letter codeword (such as 'orrase' for table #5, 'Leo') followed by its reverse anagram ('esarro'), and then repeat them both two more times

Stage 2: fill each of the 35 remaining elements in the top line in turn with ((W + f(W)) modulo 23), where W = the element to the West, ie the preceding element. The basic letter numbering is straightforward (a = 1, b = 2, c = 3, ... u = 20, x = 21, y = 22, and z = 23), but the funny f(W) function is a bit arbitrary and strange:-

• x f(x) x f(x) x f(x) x f(x)
  a...2, g...6, n..14, t...8
  b...2, h...5, o...8, u..15
  c...3, i..14, p..13, x..15
  d...5, k..15, q..20, y..15
  e..14, l..20, r..11, z...2
  f...2, m..22, s...8

Stage 3: fill each row in turn with ((N + f(W)) modulo 23), where N = the element to the North, ie the element above the current element.

For example, if you try Stage 2 out on 'o', (W + f(W)) modulo 23 = (14 + 8) modulo 23 = 22 = 'y', while (22 + 15) modulo 23 = 14 = 'o', which is why you get all the "yoyo"s in the table above.

And there (bar the inevitable miscalculations of something so darn fiddly, as well as all the inevitable scribal copying mistakes) you have it: the information in the Soyga tables is no more than the repeated left-hand column keyword, plus a rather wonky algorithm.

You can read Jim Reeds paper here: a full version (with diagrams) appeared in the pricy (but interesting) book John Dee: Interdisciplinary essays in English Renaissance Thought (2006). The End.

Except... where exactly did that funny f(x) table come from? Was that just, errrm, magicked out of the air? Jim Reeds never comments, never remarks, never speculates: effectively, he just says 'here it is, this is how it is'. But perhaps this f(x) sequence is in itself some kind of monoalphabetic or offseting cipher to hide the originator's name: Jim is bound to have thought of this, so let's look at it ourselves:-

• 1.2.3.4..5.6.7.8..9.10.11.12.13.14.15.16.17.18.19.20.21.22.23
  2.2.3.5.14.2.6.5.14.15.20.22.14..8.13.20.11..8..8.15.15.15..2

If we discount the "2 2" at the start and the "8 8 15 15 15 2" at the end as probable padding, we can see that "14" appears three times, and "5 14" twice. Hmm: might "14" be a vowel?

• 2 3 5 14 2 6 5 14 15 20 22 14 8 13 20 11 8
• a b d n a e d n o t x n g m t k g
• b c e o b f e o p u y o h n u l h
• c d f p c g f p q x z p i o x m i
• d e g q d h g q r y a q k p y n k
• e f h r e i h r s z b r l q z o l
• f g i s f k i s t a c s m r a p m
• g h k t g l k t u b d t n s b q n
• h i l u h m l u x c e u o t c r o
• i k m x i n m x y d f x p u d s p
• k l n y k o n y z e g y q x e t q
• l m o z l p o z a f h z r y f u r
• m n p a m q p a b g i a s z g x s
• n o q b n r q b c h k b t a h y t
• o p r c o s r c d i l c u b i z u
• p q s d p t s d e k m d x c k a x
• q r t e q u t e f l n e y d l b y
• r s u f r x u f g m o f z e m c z
• s t x g s y x g h n p g a f n d a
• t u y h t z y h i o q h b g o e b
• u x z i u a z i k p r i c h p f c
• x y a k x b a k l q s k d i q g d
• y z b l y c b l m r t l e k r h e
• z a c m z d c m n s u m f l s i f
  

Nope, sorry: the only word-like entities here are "tondean", "catsik", and "zikprich", none of which look particularly promising. This looks like a dead end... unless you happen to know better? ;-)

A final note. Jim remarks that one of the manuscripts has apparently been proofread, with "f[letter]" marks (ie fa, fb, fc, etc); and surmises that the "f" stands for "falso" (meaning false), with the second letter the suggested correction. What is interesting (and may not have been noted before) is that in the Voynich Manuscript, there's a piece of marginalia that follows this same pattern. On f2v, just above the second paragraph (which starts "kchor...") there's a "fa" note in a darker ink. Was this a proof-reading mark by the original author (it's in a different ink, so this is perhaps unlikely): or possibly a comment by a later code-breaker that the word / paragraph somehow seems "falso" or inconsistent? "kchor" appears quite a few times (20 or so), so both attempted explanations seem a bit odd. Something to think about, anyway...

Codice Olindo, cipher thoughts...

Yesterday, I posted up a low-resolution image of some Codice Olindo ciphertext: it appears to be a set of slightly-accessorized 8-directional arrows (and a few double-headed arrows, plus some additional shapes (punctuation?)). It struck me when I woke up this morning that - statistics aside - this might simply be a kind of arrow-based pigpen cipher, where the arrows point to the appropriate corner of the 3x3, and the accessorization indicates which 3x3 block to refer to.

Typically, modern-day code-breakers focus (if not over-focus) on the transcription and computer analyses. However, people are sometimes motivated by quite different things from pure security - the psychology is at least as important. Pigpen is easy because you can decrypt it very fast (an arrow-based pigpen would be at least as quick to read as a 'proper' one), and perhaps this is what Olindo Romano wanted. And it seems likely to me that he thought/thinks he's cleverer than all the people around him (whether that's true or not).

Of course, this is the kind of approach I have used when looking at the Voynich Manuscript, so it should come as no surprise that this is how I look at things. I wonder: if the Italian "mathematicians" who have deciphered this cipher plotted out the letters they have found on 3x3 arrow-pigpen grids, what would they find?

Dots for vowels, revisited...

One very early cipher involved replacing the vowels with dots. In his "Codes and Ciphers" (1939/1949) p.15, Alexander d'Agapeyeff asserts that this was a "Benedictine tradition", in that the Benedictine order of monks (of which Trithemius was later an Abbot) had long used it as a cipher. The first direct mention we have of it was in a ninth century Benedictine "Treatise of Diplomacy", where it worked like this:-

• i = .
• a = :
• e = :.
• o = ::
• u = ::.

"R:.:lly", you might well say, "wh:t : l:::d ::f b::ll::cks" (and you'd be r.ght, ::f c::::.rs:.). But for all its uselessness, this was a very long-lived idea: David Kahn's "The Codebreakers" (1967) [the 1164-page version, of course!] mentions the earlier St Boniface taking a dots-for-vowels system from England over to Germany in the eighth century (p.89), a "faint political cryptography" in Venice circa 1226, where the vowels in a few documents were replaced by "dots or crosses" (p.106), as well as vowels being enciphered in 1363 by the Archbishop of Naples, Pietro di Grazie (p.106).

However, perhaps the best story on the dots-for-vowels cipher comes from Lynn Thorndike, in his "History of Magic & Experimental Science" Volume III, pp.24-26. In 1320, a Milanese cleric called Bartholomew Canholati told the papal court at Avignon that Matteo Visconti's underlings had asked him to suffumigate a silver human statuette engraved with "Jacobus Papa Johannes" (the name of the Pope), as well as the sigil for Saturn and "the name of the spirit Amaymom" (he refused). He was then asked for some zuccum de napello (aconite), the most common poison in the Middle Ages (he refused). He was then asked to decipher some "'experiments for love and hate, and discovering thefts and the like', which were written without vowels which had been replaced by points" (he again refused). The pope thought it unwise to rely on a single witness, and sent Bartholomew back to Milan; the Viscontis claimed it was all a misunderstanding (though they tortured the cleric for a while, just to be sure); all in all, nobody comes out of the whole farrago smelling of roses.

(Incidentally, the only citation I could find on this was from 1972, when William R. Jones wrote an article on "Political Uses of Sorcery in Medieval Europe" in The Historian: clearly, this has well and truly fallen out of historical fashion.)

All of which I perhaps should have included in Chapter 12 of "The Curse of the Voynich", where I predicted that various "c / cc / ccc / cccc" patterns in Voynichese are used to cipher the plaintext vowels. After all, this would be little more than a steganographically-obscured version of the same dots-for-vowels cipher that had been in use for more than half a millennium.

As another aside, I once mentioned Amaymon as one of the four possible compass spirits on the Voynich manuscript f57v (on p.124 of my book) magic circle: on p.169 of Richard Kieckhefer's "Magic in the Middle Ages", he mentions Cecco d'Ascoli as having used N = Paymon, E = Oriens, S = Egim, and W = Amaymen (which is often written Amaymon). May not be relevant, but I thought I'd mention it, especially seeing as there's the talk on magic circles at Treadwell's next month (which I'm still looking forward to).

Finally, here's a picture of Voynichese text with some annotations of how I think it is divided up into tokens. My predictions: vowels are red, verbose pairs (which encipher a single token) are green, numbers are blue, characters or marks which are unexpected or improvised (such as the arch over the '4o' pair at bottom left, which I guess denotes a contraction between two adjacent pairs) are purple. Make of it all what you will!

Pigpen cipher gravestone...

Here's a nice piece of historical cryptography I hope you'll appreciate: a piece of "pigpen ciphertext" engraved on a 1792 New York gravestone, on Flickr. There's another (not quite so good) image of the same thing most of the way down on this page on forgotten New York sights. But before you click anywhere, try and decode it for yourself from the transcription I've put above!

Hint: the single-dot box appears four times, and is (just as you'd expect) a vowel. :-)

If you want to know more, the article mentioned on the page was from the Meyer Berger column on page 24 of the New York Times, January 2nd 1957, and is in the paper's online archive: they charge non-subscribers $3.95 for a PDF, if you happen to be reaaaaaaally interested. But maybe this is a sensible place to stop...

Nazi ciphers and Voynich novels...

Two big news stories today, both of them far more amazing than fiction...

Firstly, a story about a Nazi cipher, allegedly by Martin Bormann detailing the location of a cache of gold and diamonds hidden in 1945. Dutch journalist Karl Hammer has written a book called De tranen van de wolf (The Tears of the Wolf), published by Elmar, which is basically a dossier of his notes. Much copied in the blogs, but here's the source page (with pictures of the so-called "runic" cipher hidden in the rests in a piece of sheet music, as well as a series of numerals at the bottom which is doubtless discussed in the book). 224 pages, 17.50 euros here.

And secondly, a fascinating Wall Street Journal story about a cache of microfilms of early copies of the Qur'an being unearthed. For decades it was thought that they had been destroyed in the bombing of the Bavarian Academy of Science (which was housed in a former Jesuit college in Munich) in 1944, but the truth turns out to be much more subtle and complex.

It's one of those strange things: if a novelist had used either of these two stories for their plots, he/she would probably be ridiculed for over-egging their cake, for going too far. I mean, Nazis treasure and a cipher hidden in music, or Nazis and the lost origins of Islam, really?

Incidentally, I've mentioned how my stomach turns when I see the word "Jesuit" pop up in Voynich-themed novels, and - as a historical literary commentary on the penny dreadful Jesuit cliche - that's perfectly OK. But as with every rule of thumb, there is bound to be an exception, and perhaps Enrique Joven's book is that: now that I found a better description of it, I can see that the Jesuit connection he appropriates is probably based on real history (I'm guessing the movement around Europe of the various Jesuit trunks containing the VMs), and so for a surprising change his Jesuit plot connection there actually makes good sense.

But this is really not to endorse every other Jesuit/VMs so-called plot "twist" out there: repeat after me, "it almost certainly predates the Jesuit Order, which was founded in 1534"... *sigh*