Thanks to the help of commenter Thomas, we now have an excellent online source for the brick-built Cherry Garden cottage, courtesy of the American Philosophical Society Museum and the Ghost Gardens, Lost Landscapes? exhibition put together by Erin McLeary.

The cottage in Cherry Garden

This contained not only John Fanning Watson’s drawing of the cottage from about the 1820s (“courtesy of the Library Company of Philadelphia”)…

…but also its location, 39° 56′ 24.6474″ N, 75° 8′ 37.86″ W : “Now 313 S Front St, vis-a-vis Shippen St”.

Note that modern Philadelphia’s Bainbridge Street was old Philadelphia’s Shippen Street: and that Shippen Street originally stopped at Front Street. Hence the (now archaic) use of vis-a-vis, “in a position facing a specified or implied subject“, i.e. ‘on South Front Street facing Shippen Street’.

So we can see that by 1796, the Cherry Garden plot had been divided into lots and sold (as per the 1756 advertisements in the Pennsylvania Gazette I mentioned before). This was presumably broadly the same state in which John Fanning Watson saw the remains of the site.

As a sidenote, the only online record I found relating to 313 S Front St is from an 1859 letter written by a John McKay in Michigan, who gives the address (presumably) of where one of his sons (also called John McKay) is living in Philadelphia (all courtesy of the Irish Emigration Database). (Oddly, Google seems to find this page only occasionally.). The modern block numbering would be 613 South Front Street.

But before we move on, let’s briefly look a little closer at the (unannotated) 1796 map:

It seems highly likely, then, that John Fanning Watson was talking about the remains of the single house we can see on the 1796 map immediately facing Shippen Street, whose south wall (appears to have) lined up with the north wall of the house on the southwestern corner opposite it.

Google Streetview

In modern-day Philly, Bainbridge Street cuts a little across Front Street, before abruptly screeching to a halt in front of the Interstate I-95.

There are no houses of any sort East of South Front Street, just a small car park, with grassy verges on both sides:

The three houses on the west side south of the crossroads are all from the eighteenth century (all built by Nathaniel Irish), and so weren’t there in 1716 when the letter was written:

700 South Front Street – 1764 – Widow Maloby’s Tavern (on the right)

702 South Front Street – 1767 – Capt. Thomas Moore House (in the middle)

704 South Front Street – 1763-1769 – Nathaniel Irish House (on the left)

A (now long-gone) house on the same block as (old block numbering) 313 S Front St was (new block numbering) 611 South Front Street, which according to the 1909 “Publication No. 5” of the City Historical Society of Philadelphia (it says here) was “the home of early U.S. naval hero [Commodore] Stephen Decatur” (1779-1820), famed for his attacks on Barbary pirates:

Decatur was widely believed to have been the greatest, bravest President the US never quite had (he died in a duel at 41). Here’s the Philadelphia historical marker put up in his honour:

In one of those awful coincidences historians like to both notice and note, Shippen Street was renamed Bainbridge Street in honour of Commodore William Bainbridge (1774-1833), who was also Stephen Decatur’s second in his fatal duel. According to naval historian Alexander Slidell Mackenzie, Bainbridge was so jealous of Decatur’s success that he rigged the rules of the duel (only eight paces!) in order that both duellists were likely to be killed.

Anyway, now you know that here we (virtually) are on Bainbridge Street, within a few feet of where Decatur grew up.

So… Why Don’t We Just Go Dig, Then?

Slow down! I’ve only managed to cover the history of the site around the area. I’ve got lots to write up about the site itself yet (coming up next), which should help inform the whole industrial archaeology thing. Once that’s all in place, perhaps a bit of geophys would indeed be nice. 😉

I know, I know: this is the same Mental Floss that also publishes articles like 10 Things You Might Not Know About Jeff Goldblum (sample fact: “My first wife and I would bring our juicer on planes, and we’d do a carrot cleanse for a week, until I’d turn orange and all my poop would be orange”).

But bear with me on this, because the long-form article by Lucas Reilly on the Beale Ciphers / Papers / Treasure that just came out is really good. No, it’s really good.

And I’m not just saying that because Reilly quotes me a few times: he covers all the important ground at a nice even pace without getting overly technical. As part of his research, he even tried to walk the Beale walk a bit (though without actually hiring a backhoe), and even got the desk-full-of-documents Beale treatment when he visited the Bedford County Museum and Genealogical Library in Montvale. Which is nice.

Reilly also managed to dig up a couple of Beale decryptions I can’t remember seeing before, including this one mentioned in a Washington Post article from 1984, attributed to an “M.C.D.”:

ONE RAN TO COVER THE TOP / HIT THE
RAM NUB ON THE TOP OF THE NEST /
BEST I TRY HEAT / SEE CALL TO FIT
TOY SO HAT NOD IF FULL / I WILL BE
IN THE CUT FIND AND DIG IT … GO WIN
YOUR SLICE AND BE LONG IN LOVE

…as well as this one:

LEND AN EAR / I LEARNED A
TRADE TO READ FINE ART OF ROTE
… / I FEEL GREAT / I FIND TEN
TON ORE IT IS STORED ON NORA,
NORMAN, BROWN FARM / ROAD RUN
AROUND RED BARN.

Incidentally, the Washington Post article (“Legendary Treasure Quests” by Hank Burchard, 5th October 1984) also give this decryption:

CEMETERY OFF GAP / TOOK RIDGE / PINEWOOD 4 M /
NORTH TOP OF HOLCOMBS ROCK / RIGGED A BOOM OF LOGS /
GOLD ORE HID / BARGE HOLDING TUBS /
CABOCHONS FACE LIDS / BUFORD VA /
VAULT CACHE OF GOLD / TB.

Is there no end to the fun people can have staring at a blank wall? Apparently not, it would seem.

But all the same, you can now tell all your friends the important life lesson you learned from the Beale Ciphers: Go Win Your Slice And Be Long In Love. Enjoy! 😉

Hot off the Cryptologia presses comes news of Levente Zoltán Király & Gábor Tokai’s (2018) paper “Cracking the code of the Rohonc Codex” (Cryptologia, 42:4, 285-315, DOI: 10.1080/01611194.2018.1449147). This is part of a long series of papers and articles the two authors have been putting out that try to explain different technical aspects of the Rohonc Codex decryption they have been developing (though they initially started independently), and which Hungarian uber-crypto-guy Benedek Láng has favourably mentioned a number of times.

I now have a copy of the paper (which Lev Király kindly passed me) and have spent the last few days combing over it. Even though what they have done is thoroughly fascinating, I have to say that what emerges for me overall is a very mixed picture. I’ll try to explain…

Rohonc Codex codicology

Though at least half of the account of the history of research into the Rohonc Codex they present (pp.286-288) somewhat immodestly discusses their own findings and conclusions, Király and Tokai have clearly put a lot of effort into trying to understand the physical object itself (pp.288-293). Though a few of their codicological inferences are based on their interpretations of the pictures and text (and a number of their decryptions are inserted directly into the text as fact), most are based on exactly the kind of careful observation and physical insight you would hope to see.

Codicologically, what emerges more or less exactly mirrors what we see in the Voynich Manuscript:
* bifolios missing, swapped, and moved around arbitrarily, coupled with other sections that seem to have stayed intact.
* misleading foliation that was added long after bifolios had been shuffled
* misleading marginalia and notes added by owners who did not know what the text said
* some places where the picture was drawn first, others where the text was written first
* rebuttals of unjustified claims that there are no corrections
* rebuttals of unjustified claims that it must surely be a hoax
* and so forth.

As a result, I think that Király and Tokai’s codicological analyses imply that the Rohonc Codex has almost all the same physical and historical structures that the Voynich Manuscript has (niceties relating to textual analysis aside).

Cracking the Rohonc Codex’s numbers?

Király & Tokai point (pp.296-297) approvingly to Ottó Gyürk’s (1970) paper “Megfejthető-e a Rohonci-kódex?” [Can the Rohonc Codex Be Solved?]. Élet és Tudomány 25:1923–28, and extend the set of (what looks like) number instances that Gyürk found:

The underlying number pattern they infer from this sequence is as follows:

While their proposal that this is a number system that works like Roman numerals but where the ‘6’ has a shape instead of the ‘5’ (“V”) is possible, I have to say that to me it seems unbelievably unlikely (e.g. there’s nothing remotely like it in Flegg’s “Numbers Through the Ages”). It also seems likely to me that the text we see includes copying errors, and it may well therefore be that the specific sequence they highlight should have begun “III”, “IIII” (or probably the more idiosyncratically medieval “iij”, “iiij”) rather than “IIII”, “IIIII” as written. Instead postulating a 1-6-10 numbering system to explain this away seems too implausible to me.

What seems far more likely is that this is a kind of very slightly bastardized Roman numerals where you can write 5 both as “IIIII” and as “V”, in the same way that you can validly write 4 (additively) as “IIII” and (subtractively) as “IV”. Hence I’m currently far from convinced, based on what they have presented so far, that they have managed to nail down this basic part of the number system as well as they think they have.

They then proceed to construct an even more arcane number system which they assert encodes dates as if they were in Arabic numerals, but where the thousands digit and hundreds digit are reversed (i.e. what is written as “5160” actually means “1560”, where 1560 is a magic number “which is dated by old Christian tradition to the year 33 CE”):

When Gábor Tokai [discovered] the number 5166 next to the drawing of the three kings (21r) and 5199 (058r09 − 10) in the vicinity of drawings of the resurrection of Christ (56v, 59r), he affirmed that the numbers denote years.

OK, I can see how the logic arguing for this is so going to be so complex that it would need to be written up in a separate paper. But I can also see how I don’t believe what they have presented here at all: so I’m going to say that I’m sorry, but even though a good part of the underlying codicology and analysis is very likely highlighting some good stuff that needs working with and developing, I don’t believe the reconstructed number system claimed here is yet correct. 🙁

Cracking the Rohonc Codex’s code?

The paper tries to explain (p.293) what the authors have found (i.e. that ‘Rohoncese’ is a code, though one so complex that’s clearly not easy for them to explain why or how, which is why it is going to take several papers and several years of their effort) and what they are aspiring towards with their decryption efforts:

The principles of our criteria and method of codebreaking may seem banal to the reader, but we must emphasize them because of the bad reputation gained by the amateur researchers of the codex. Furthermore, as many examples in our next paper on the “wobbliness” of the code will show, the writing system is far from being simple and clean. We must affirm that these results are not due to methodically deficient research but to the writing itself, which was analyzed with painstaking care and strictness.

We demand that one symbol signify one thing, and whenever there is any digression from this principle — either by more symbols signifying one thing or one symbol signifying more things — it must be sufficiently supported by argument. Our case is difficult because the codex has codes signifying words of a language, and words behave less regularly than letters. In every natural language the presence of homonyms and synonyms creates ambiguity. Yet we demand that even this amount of ambivalence in our proposed solution be supported by evidence.

OK. So how does Király and Tokai’s actual decryption measure up to the lofty ideals they set for themselves here? Well… after a long series of caveats, concessions and defensive clauses, the whole section concludes (p.295):

Thus the plausibility of our proposed solution is difficult to specify. The core of our reading has such strong inner and outer evidence that we may affirm that it stands beyond doubt. The rest is of various degrees of certainty, which is indicated wherever necessary.

Their text then includes long readings of sections taken from the Rohonc Codex where tiny groups of letters are read as individual codes, which are in turn interpreted as individual words, all supporting each other. As a single line example, here’s the first part of the section that they believe is the Lord’s Prayer (p.303):

At the same time, the decryption never goes below the level of individual words. Are these pronounceable? What language are they derived from? How does this fit into the tree of European languages? These are all parceled off to be answered in future papers.

Probably the Best Part of the Paper

For me, the most persuasive-looking of all the authors’ codebreaking details relates to the Parable of the Talents:

Here’s the same section in the Rohonc Codex (bearing in mind that the real text runs from right to left, whereas the transcription they present runs left to right), where I have highlighted the first line blue, the second line red, and the third line purple:

Despite having an O-Level in Religious Studies, I’d be the first to admit that my knowledge of the Bible is patchy. But even I knew that the above wasn’t quite how it was told in Matthew 25:14-30. Rather, the three servants got 5, 2, and 1 talents respectively, which is why they write up the “3” (actually 2) talents as [sic] on p.300:

14 For it will be like a man going on a journey, who called his servants and entrusted to them his property.
15 To one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one, to each according to his ability. Then he went away.
16 He who had received the five talents went at once and traded with them, and he made five talents more.
17 So also he who had the two talents made two talents more.
18 But he who had received the one talent went and dug in the ground and hid his master’s money.

Or, if you prefer, here’s the same section in the Latin Vulgate:

14 sicut enim homo proficiscens vocavit servos suos et tradidit illis bona sua
15 et uni dedit quinque talenta alii autem duo alii vero unum unicuique secundum propriam virtutem et profectus est statim
16 abiit autem qui quinque talenta acceperat et operatus est in eis et lucratus est alia quinque
17 similiter qui duo acceperat lucratus est alia duo
18 qui autem unum acceperat abiens fodit in terra et abscondit pecuniam domini sui

So: if their claimed block equivalence to the first half of Matthew 25:15 is indeed correct (and there are arguments both for and against this), perhaps the right question to be asking is whether there is there some odd Mitteleuropa tradition whereby the number of talents in this parable is not 5/2/1 but 1/3/5?

So, What Does Nick Think About All This?

In the best footballing tradition, Király and Tokai’s paper is (as the above should have made abundantly clear) a game of two very different halves.

By which I mean:
* the first 45 minutes stand as testament to the authors’ codicological hard work, almost all of which I’m convinced will stand as really strong, freestanding research (but which would have been further strengthened by unpicking various assertions that derive from their decryption). I would further include here the grounds from which they inferred the existence of a numbering system (though not the actual numbering system they describe itself)
* the second 45 minutes revolve around an attempt at a decryption that occasionally seems to work at a word level, but without ever getting to the bottom of what is actually going on (i.e. in terms of letters / grammar / structure etc).

The authors approvingly summarize (p.287) Benedek Láng’s view of the Rohonc Codex:

Láng’s greatest achievement was his attempt to identify the type of the cipher or code. He saw three options as equally possible: a monoalphabetic cipher with homophones, nullities, and nomenclators; stenography; or an artificial (“perfect”) language.

And yet, just as with the Voynich Manuscript, reducing the question of a writing system to precisely three mutually exclusive pigeonholes is an intellectually barren starting point, one which the astute Láng himself would surely be uncomfortable with. There are many more overlapping possibilities to consider, such as abbreviating shorthand (i.e. where words are contracted or truncated), alphabets based on pronunciation, and so forth.

Personally, I would be entirely unsurprised if the codicological analysis Király and Tokai carried out that led to their finding even half a line of a block equivalent (i.e. the the first half of Matthew 25:15) will turn out to be the first glimmer of a Rohonc “Rosetta Stone”: and for that all credit should be due to them. However, I don’t yet believe that the rest of their analysis has born the tasty fruit they think it has: and so there will likely be many more twists and turns for them to go through in their quest to decrypt the “Hungarian Voynich”.

I recently had a nice day out in Whitstable (marred only by a little light rain and a touch overhoneyed squid tempura dipping sauce, upstairs at the otherwise excellent Crab & Winkle Restaurant). I only mention this because Whitstable’s Wetherspoons – The Peter Cushing – is named after the famous British horror actor (who had a house in the town for many years), famous for playing Grand Moff Tarkin and vampire hunter Van Helsing. And so some people might suspect Cushing’s Syndrome to be a condition involving, say, irrational fear of vampires.

Alas no! In 1912, the same year that Wilfrid Voynich was (supposedly) buying his now eponymous manuscript, it was American brain surgeon Harvey Williams Cushing (1869-1939) who described his patient Minnie as suffering from hypercorticism, though he originally assumed that this was some kind of polyglandular disorder. By 1943, this was known to be “an endocrinological syndrome caused by malfunction of the pituitary gland”, and was named Cushing’s Syndrome in H. W. Cushing’s honour.

So: all distracting mentions of sanguivoriphobia aside, how does Cushing’s Syndrome present? “Symptoms include rapid weight gain, particularly of the trunk and face with sparing of the limbs (central obesity). Common signs include the growth of fat pads along the collarbone, on the back of the neck (“buffalo hump” or lipodystrophy), and on the face (“moon face”).” It is also far more common in adult women than in adult men.

This should be just about enough of a trigger for long-suffering Voynich researchers to work out precisely where this is all leading…

Alexander N. Gabrovsky, Ph.D

It is a certain Alexander N. Gabrovsky, who styles himself as a “Medieval Consultant“, who is about to have a paper published in the Spring 2018 issue of “Source: Notes in the History of Art” (Vol. 37 No. 3). This paper – “Galenic Humoral Theory and Amenorrhea: Cushingoid Phenotype in a Fifteenth Century Illustrated Cipher Manuscript,” – which he asserts will be “one of the first peer-reviewed art historical perspectives on the Voynich Manuscript” will surely link the Voynich Manuscript (specifically its preponderance of Voynich nymphs, almost certainly) to the way Cushing’s Syndrome typically presents.

With my Art History hat on, I’ll be interested to see whether or not the whole “Cushingoid Phenotype” was ever depicted in a recognisable way in the centuries before 1912: it would be a strange paper were it not to even pose that question.

Gabrovsky describes himself as…

“[…]an American medievalist and hold a Ph.D. from the University of Cambridge (England), specializing in medieval literature, alchemical manuscripts, paleopathology (study of ancient diseases), history of art, Chaucer, and history of the occult sciences from Antiquity to the Middle Ages.”

A few days ago, German cryptoblogger Klaus Schmeh mentioned a recent paper by Tom Juzek on the unsolved Z340 Zodiac Killer cipher. This first appeared in March/April 2018, but I was not aware of it before Klaus flagged it.

Juzek’s MSD metric

The metric Juzek uses to drive much of his argumentation is what he calls ‘MSD’ (“Mean Squared Distance”), which is simply the sum of the squares of the instance frequencies of bigrams (or trigrams), but then divided by the number of individual bigrams (or trigrams).

As an example, the 14-letter text “AAAAAAAAAABCD” is made up of thirteen bigram instances AA, AA, AA, AA, AA, AA, AA, AA, AA, AB, BC, and CD. Hence it contains 9 x AA, 1 x AB, 1 x BC, and 1 x CD: and so would have a bigram MSD of (9*9 + 1*1 + 1*1 + 1*1) / 13 = (84 / 13) = 6.46.

The same text contains twelve trigram instances AAA, AAA, AAA, AAA, AAA, AAA, AAA, AAA, AAB, ABC, and BCD. Hence it contains 8 x AAA, 1 x AAB, 1 x ABC, and 1 x BCD: and so would have a trigram MSD of (8*8 + 1*1 + 1*1 + 1*1) / 12 = 5.58.

However, Juzek quickly flags that this raw metric is not really good enough on its own:

The problem with the msd is that there are difficulties with comparing msd’s across data sets. This is because the length of a text influences the msd, as well as the length of a text’s character set. A 400 character cipher using 10 characters will see a different ngram distribution to a 100 character cipher using 40 characters.

Hence Juzek instead generates a “delta MSD”, which he defines as the difference between the ngram MSD of each ciphertext read horizontally (i.e. the generally presumed ‘correct’ symbol ordering) and the ngram MSD of its vertical transposition (i.e. every 17th character). This is to try to ‘normalize’ the raw MSD against a kind of statistically flattened version of the same.

Juzek then applies these two final metrics (bigram delta MSD and trigram delta MSD) to a number of real and fake ciphers, before concluding that the Z340 is quite unlike the Z408, and that it in fact presents more like fake ciphers than real ciphers.

What’s Wrong With This Picture?

Clearly, Juzek’s motivation for squaring ngram instance counts at all is to try to somehow ‘reward’ ngrams that are repeated in a given text being tested. Unfortunately, I think this is no more than a rather clunky and misleading way of looking at entropy / negentropy, which has a long-established and rigorous calculation procedure (and an enormous theoretical literature ranging across Computer Science and indeed Physics).

As a result, I think he may well have reinvented a perfectly round wheel in a somewhat square format: sorry, but I don’t think this is going to roll very far or very fast.

If the same calculations were repeated with different order ngram entropies, I think we might have something more interesting to work with here: but that’s already been done to death in the Zodiac Killer research world.

Moreover, the long-standing suggestion (which I think has a fair amount of evidential support) that the Z340 may well have been constructed in two distinct halves (Z170A and Z170B) would also mess with just about all of his arguments and conclusions. I’d much rather have seen that tested than Vigenere (it’s not a Vig, not even close).

Forward Context vs Backward Context?

As I was reading through Juzek’s paper, I was struck by a quite different question. If we are looking at an encrypted homophonic English ciphertext (a fairly reasonable assumption here), is there a notable difference between the left-context entropy (i.e. the information content of the text using the preceding letter as a context for predicting the next letter) with the right-context entropy?

That is, might encrypted homophonic English ciphertexts have a distinctly asymmetrical statistical “fingerprint” that would give us confidence that this is indeed what we are looking at in the Z340? Perhaps this has already been calculated: if so, it’s not work that I’m aware of, so please leave a comment here to help broaden my mind. 🙂

Just a short note to let you know that Cipher Mysteries’ website’ comment facility is (hopefully) now working again. I had configured it to use an anti-spam WordPress plugin called Mollom, which had its support withdrawn on 2nd April 2018: and so since then all comments to the site had been mysteriously rejected. Thanks to Mark, Rene and others for flagging this issue to me.

More generally, since early least month I’ve been tied up trying to resolve a number of non-crypto (i.e. real-life) issues, so please accept my apologies if you have found both the website and me to have been less responsive than normal. =:-o

Pameo Pose’s Voynich apparel

In the meantime, here is a selection of Voynich apparel from Japanese company Pameo Pose.

Firstly, a Voynich EVA ‘P’ themed beret, which comes in cream and tan (though both variants are sold out). Note that they have chosen the crossed-through single leg gallows from the EVA alphabet, which (of course) means that the ‘c’ and ‘h’ either side are missing:

Secondly, a Voynich lace collar, though I guess you would only be able to tell that it is EVA close-up. It also comes in two colours, and is sold out (I prefer the funky ear-rings, myself):

Thirdly, a Voynich lace dress, a snip at 33480 yen:

Finally (and my favourite of the lot) is the Voynich dance team top, which uses the well-formed EVA ‘cPh’ as its logo:

Thanks to a nice post on Marco Ponzi’s website, a new block paradigm candidate has presented itself: the short “Liber de Angelis”, the first eleven paragraphs of Cambridge University Library MS Dd.xi.45.

As Marco notes, this was transcribed and translated by Juris G. Lidaka in a chapter in Claire Fanger’s (1998) “Conjuring Spirits: Texts and Traditions of Late Medieval Ritual Magic“. (The full treatise, which is undoubtedly a collection of smaller treatises, is called “Liber de Angelis, Annulis, Karecteribus et Ymaginibus Planetarum”.)

“The Experiment”

Incidentally, this collection has the distinction of having been mentioned by the writer M.R.James in his story “The Experiment: A New Year’s Eve Ghost Story“, first published in the Morning Post, December 31, 1931 (as discussed here). Republished in “A Pleasing Terror”, p.402 refers to “Bishop Moore’s book of recipes”
James’ story concludes:

Bishop Moore’s book of recipes is now in the University Library at Cambridge, marked Dd 11, 45, and on the leaf numbered 144 this is written:

An experiment most ofte proved true, to find out tresure hidden in the ground, theft, manslaughter, or anie other thynge. Go to the grave of a ded man, and three tymes call hym by his nam at the hed of the grave, and say. Thou, N., N., N., I coniure the, I require the, and I charge the, by thi Christendome that thou takest leave of the Lord Raffael and Nares and then askest leave this night to come and tell me trewlie of the tresure that lyith hid in such a place. Then take of the earth of the grave at the dead bodyes hed and knitt it in a lynnen clothe and put itt under thi right eare and sleape theruppon: and wheresoever thou lyest or slepest, that night he will corn and tell thee trewlie in waking or sleping.

However, given that we are not presently concerned with asking the dead for advice about treasure hunting, I leave this merely as an aside / exercise for the reader. 😉

What we are actually concerned with is whether the eleven paragraphs of the Liber de Angelis might somehow be the plaintext of a section of the Voynich Manuscript: so, without any further ado, here they are (as transcribed by Lidaka)…

Liber de Angelis

[1] Signum admirabile experimentorum dixit Messayaac & incipit cum adiuncto Altissimi & est mirabile signum & ualde admirandum in quo sunt secreta Altissimi. Per illud autem ludei operabantur, Caldei, Egipcij, & prudentes Babilonici. Cum igitur operare uolueris, fiat annulus Solis, ex auro fiat, in quo scribantur carecter & nomen angeli solis. & hoc annulus habeatur in omni sacrificio super minore digito sinister manus. Cartam itaque cum mente curiose & studiose custodire in loco mundissimo, & inuolue in rubeo serico.
[2] & hec sunt opera annulus Solis. Cum itaque secundum annulum Solis die dominice ieiunes usque ad noctem, nocte autem facies sacrificium de quada aue non domestica prope litus aque decurrentis, & cum eiusdem auis sanguine scribe carecter & nomen angeli Solis in carta uirginea, & hanc tecum porta. Et cum uolueris transire de vna terra in alteram, depinge in terra carecter Solis & nomen angeli eius, & statim veniet equus niger qui portabit te vbicumque uolueris. Tene tamen cartam in manu dextera & annulum in manu sinistra.
[3] Sicus prius, habeas carecter & nomen angeli eius & scribantur in annulo, & ieiunes in die Lune quo fit annulus Lune, sicud fecisti in annulo Solis, in quo si operare uolueris continuo, sacrificabis anguillam flumalem, cuius sanguine scribe carecter Lune & nomen angeli eius in pelle tue, & inuolue in pelle anguille & reserua vt cum volueris ut appareat flumen uel arbor cum fructu, scribe in terra nomen angeli & nomen fructus, & uoca angelum carta aperta, & apparebit, Si uis ut non appareat, claude cartam.
[4] De annulo Martis. Fiat sacrificium de aue rapaci intra domum ad ignem, et scribe cum eiusdem sanguine in pelle eiusdem nomen angeli & carecteris. Et cum uolueris ut appareant milites armati uel castella uel lubricus ludus, uel ut vincas in prelio, fac caracterem & nomen angeli in terra & appari cartam & apparebit & faciet que preceperis, & cum clauditur carta recedet & cessabit.
[5] Totum fac ut de alijs, sacrificium fiat de uulpe uel de cato in loco deserto, scribe careterem et nomen angeli in fronte – vinces in omni placito. Tene cartam in manu.
[6] Fac sacrificium de gallo, karetter & nomen angeli scribe in pelle, intelligi, in quo inuoluas denarium, & qociens ipsum donaueris reuertetur.
[7] Fac sacrificium de columba alba viuente, carecterem & nomen angeli eius scribe in pelle leporis, quod si mulieri ostenderis sequentur te uelociter.
[8] Totum ut supra. [Damage to leaf has left a small section unreadable here.] Sacrificium de capra inter vepres, carecterem & nomen angeli scribe in percameno veteri. Cum uolueris inter duos odium mittere, eorum nomina in percameno, codem carecterem & nomen angeli in pelle capre, ut predicatur. Cum uolueris aliquem intoxicare, in eius potu intinge annulum Saturni: cum idem potauerit intoxicabitur.
[9] Nunc de generalibus mandatis restat docere. Annulus Solis in omni sacrificio habeatur, & annulus Febe, in quo nomen angeli ipsius; Febe tam in memoria habeatur quam in opera. & fiat sacrificium in circulo infundali, prius scriptus carecter, & in medio magister dicat: ‘Oya, sacrificium tue laudis suscipe’, proiciens carnes extra circulum. In qualibet autem operacione, nomen angeli inuocetur & annulus in digito habeatur. Carte uero mundissime reseruentur, nec in noctis tenebris aperiantur nisi operis necessario ingrauerit.
[10] Nunc de annulis. Annulus Solis ad equum & fiet de auro. Annulus Lune ex argento ad fluuium. Annulus Martis ex ere ad uictoriam in bello. Annulus Mercurij ex cupro ad scienciam. Annulus Iouis ex electro ad denarium. Annulus Veneris ex plumbo ad amorem. Annulus Saturni ex ferre ad odium. Annulus Capitis Draconis ex calibe ad toxicandum.
[11] Hox signum mirabile est experimentum magistri Messayaac de secretis spirituum planetis, secundum mencionem, & sumitur sic. Omitto nomina angelorum cum carecteribus suis (que incipiunt sic: Storax, Abamecta, Paymon, cum ceteris) propter certam causam hic scribenda.

It’s Not by Osbern Bokenham

Though it was once thought to have been written down by Augustinian poet-monk Osbern Bokenham, Lidaka dismisses this quickly. But as a nice point of history, Osbern Bokenham did once conceal his identity in the chapter initial letters (much as in the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili) as discussed here:

On 1st May 1456 he wrote Dialogue betwixt a secular asking and a Frere (friar) answering at the grave of Dame Joan of Acre. This is a very important source for the history of Clare Priory. This manuscript, which still exists, is written in both Latin and English, and richly decorated on parchment. Another of his works was called Mappula Anglicae, which covered the rhymed lives of English saints such as Cedde, Felix and Oswald.

It contained seventeen chapters, and was anonymous, except that Bokenham stated that, if taken in sequence, the first letter in each chapter spelt out the name of the author. It reads OSBERNUS BOKEN_HAM. Chapter 15 is missing.

[Yes, it does indeed look from that as though it was actually Chapter 14 that was missing, but let’s not quibble.]

It’s Actually by William Bokenham

Though the surname of the Liber de Angelis writer was clearly Bokenham, Lidaka points out that the author’s first name was William, and that he was copying various small treatises, not composing them. Moreover, given that two works dealing with urine (that most multispectral of medieval medical staples) by a William Bokenham are in Wellcome MS 408, and that in them he claimed to be “a doctor with a degree from Bologna” as well as “a monk at Norwich Holy Trinity (or St Giles)”, we would seem to have our copyist locked down quite solidly.

From internal evidence (the ‘Oya’ in paragraph #9), Lidaka suggests that the Liber de Angelis version being copied may well have been derived from an earlier French language version: and separately that the ultimate source of at least some of the tracts could perhaps be Arabic. In which case, it might be a good idea to get acquainted with David Pingree’s “The Diffusion of Arabic Magical Texts in Western Europe” (Ladaka’s note #14). [Jim Reeds is also mentioned in note #20, crypto-history fans.]

Personally, I’m also a little suspicious of the “karetter” in paragraph #6 as being a possible linguistic tell.

And Now We’ve Done All That…

…I’ll compare this with the Voynich Manuscript’s planets in a follow-on post, 1300 words is quite enough for the moment. 🙂

Following on from the Oxford Mail’s brief article I covered here a few days ago, here’s yer akshual Wagamama press release, courtesy of those upstart challenger funsters at Talker Tailor Trouble Maker who put the competition together for their Japanese/Asian food-selling clients:

Mark Knowles has also sent me through A4 scans of the A3-sized entry form / paper placemat direct from Oxford (which was very kind of him): but given that we now have the proper press release to refer to (and hence know for sure that the string of numbers in the Oxford Mail was correct), and also know that Rene Z has figured the answer out, I think anyone wanting to enter will just have to drop by, fill in an entry form, and drop it in the box all on their own.

“Give Us A Clue” *sigh*

People keep asking me for clues to the mathematical bit: however, all I can reasonably say for that is that you should tighten your girdle, prime your weapons, and keep on marching through, you’ll get there in the end. It’s a fact! Or maybe not. 🙂

As for the anagram stage, I think that Wagamama may have been stretching the notion of what counts as “topical” a little further than you may at first think, so perhaps try to expand your view somewhat. 😉

Good luck! And if you do happen to win the £500 gift voucher, don’t forget to invite me round for some edamame beans. 😉

According to this rehash of a press release hard-hitting article from this week’s Oxford Mail that Cipher Mysteries reader ‘LV’ kindly sent me:

A NEWLY refurbished Oxford restaurant is offering brainy punters six months free food – if they can crack an ‘impossible code’.

Wagamama in George Street has appealed for people to take on a complex equation to be in with a chance of bagging a voucher worth £500.

The competition is being launched today, Albert Einstein’s birthday, and is open until 10pm on March 21.

It’s just a little bit of a shame that Stephen Hawking happened to expire on the very same day, otherwise I’m sure all the papers would be talking about is Wagamama’s clever cipher. Oh, and as you’ll see, it’s clearly not a “complex equation” in any useful sense of the word, so please try not to get too taken in by the allusions to the wonders of maths in what follows.

Set by an Oxford University mathematician, the puzzle is as follows:

Each number below encodes a letter of the alphabet. When you’ve worked out the letters, you’ll need to unscramble them to make three topical words.

330 33 2 105 55 10 2 2 70 2 105 14 42 11 2 10 154 2 11 70 30 2 70

To enter visit Wagamama’s Oxford branch and pick up a form.

Essentially, the way this is supposed to work is that once the deadline passes, the puzzle-setter stops snickering into the back of his/her Oxonian hand long enough to reveal the trick behind the letter-to-number mapping, at which point we all kick ourselves for not seeing the trick. Arguably, this is more steganography than cryptography, but it’s a bit of fun nonetheless, right? Better than turn-of-the-century lovers’ pigpen postcards, wouldn’t you say, eh?

Some Quick Thoughts

Firstly… as a starting point, the unique numbers and their instance repetitions in the cryptogram are:

10 10
105 105
11 11
14
154
2 2 2 2 2 2 2
30
33
330
42
55
70 70 70

Secondly, it’s seems fairly obvious that (as I flagged above) this probably isn’t some mathematical equation-based thing, but rather some trick that maps numbers onto the letters of the alphabet (for you to then anagrammify). Similar ciphers I’ve seen in the past have converted Morse Code letters into numbers (e.g. SOS = … — … = 3 8 3, etc i.e. where 12345 = ./../…/…./….. and 67890 = -/–/—/—-/—–), or have converted a Braille pattern into a binary number, or have yielded a grid position: but there’s surely tons of room for ACA-style fans to devise new letter-to-number puzzle mappings. For instance, you could map AEIOUY = 123456, and then add a digit counting forward from that vowel, e.g. ABCDEF = 10 11 12 13 20 21 (etc), and so forth.

What is a little unusual about Wagamama’s particular numbers is that there are no sixes, eights, or nines, as well as the way so many end in 0: while the cluster of 30 / 33 / 330 also seems to offer some kind of blatantly obvious clue (in retrospect, next week some time) as to the nature of the system, not too dissimilar to the clue (supposedly) hidden in the microdot in the ‘i’ in Arnold Rimmer’s swimming certificate.

Thirdly, the seven instances of ‘2’ would normally make it highly likely to be E or T (the highest frequency letters in English): but given that “EINSTEIN” seems a bit too obvious, perhaps “WAGAMAMA” is one of the “three topical words”, making ‘2’ instead ‘A’. This is normally the kind of half-hearted joke that tends to amuse PR flacks sitting in wine bars (and what are the odds this was 1855 Oxford?), but you probably guessed that already: it’s not as if they would have used a properly topical word like “NOVICHOK”, right?

Finally, just about the only Cipher Mysteries reader in Oxford able to pick up a form is Mark Knowles: I just hope he likes cracking puzzles and Japanese-inspired Asian-esque fusion food. 😉


Update: well, I’ve now solved the letter-to-number correspondence stage, which in fact is mathematical, though (as I predicted above) not really in anything like a “complex equation” sense. (Does anyone want a hint? Unlike President Snowball, I’m not really into spoilers, and you’ll enjoy it more if you work it out for yourself.) I’ve also worked out one of the three words (which, again, was as I predicted above: WAGAMAMA), so all I have to do is work out the other two “topical words”, neither of which is EINSTEIN, unless they cocked the puzzle up… 😉