I was writing up a recently-claimed Dorabella Cipher decryption just now, when an incoming email clattered noisily out of the pneumatic mail tube and into my mahogany in-tray. Nicely, it contained a link to a new Dorabella Cipher article by San Francisco writer Mark MacNamara in online magazine Nautilus, jauntily entitled “The Artist of the Unbreakable Code” (i.e. Edward Elgar).

Given that I exchanged some Dorabella-related emails with MacNamara back in his summer research phase, it was no great surprise to discover – as Bill Walsh and others have kindly pointed out during today – that my, errrm, “stego-Bella” suggestion gets a short mention there. 🙂

Regardless, MacNamara covers Elgar’s enigmatic ground at a fair old pace, and works through Tim Roberts’ and Tony Gaffney’s claimed decryptions, along with their angry annoyance (if not outright outrage) at having the ridiculous stuffed shirts of the Elgar Society turn down their decryptions. Really, who were mere musicologists to tread so heavily on the toes of such ingenious and hard-working code-breakers? etc etc.

Of course, Cipher Mysteries regulars will already know what I believe: that Roberts, Gaffney and even Eric Sams produced attempts that were cryptologically clever at the expense of being historically and practically unsound. For me (and it’s just my opinion), any proposed solution should go some way towards explaining not only the message (the crypto mystery) but also the reason or necessity for the cryptographic wrapper (the historical mystery). The practical problem with these three claimed decrypts is that they are as impenetrable unenciphered as ciphered: which is also presumably why people have rarely enciphered alchemical texts. Or legal contracts. Or legislation.

Will we ever see a Dorabella decrypt that is both cryptologically sound and, as the Elgar Society required for their £1500 lucre-pile prize, “glaringly obvious”? I think it is entirely true that such a criterion is both foolishly idealistic and cryptographically inappropriate for judging most ciphertexts, so I am somewhat sympathetic towards Tony Gaffney’s condemnation. But all the same, I really don’t think our Tone has cracked this particular curate’s egg of a cipher just yet, hen’s shells or no. Perhaps hen’s teeth might be closer? 🙂

Anyway, I rather liked MacNamara’s article, and would recommend it to you with only a few minor corrections:-
(1) Elgar only called Dora Penny “Dorabella” after 1897
(2) The cipher isn’t too short to analyse – in fact, simple substitution ciphers are usually breakable with roughly 30 characters (and this has 87). With a good guess and a bit of luck, you may need only 20 characters, or even 15. Which is why it’s so odd we can’t crack it – really, if it were simple we should have more than enough “depth” to crack it.
(3) The cipher doesn’t strictly “defy” frequency analysis – it’s letter frequencies are what they are. In fact, frequency analysis makes it seem even more likely to be a simple substitution cipher. Rather, the Dorabella Cipher defies its own strong resemblance to a simple substitution cipher.
(4) Elgar not only sent Dora Penny no other ciphers (either before or after), but they never talked about ciphers in their relationship that spanned many decades.
(5) It;s not really accurate to say that I have yet “come to believe” my whole stego-Bella hypothesis. Rather, I have come to disbelieve most of the presumptions that other people have built their own theories upon: and the stego-Bella thing is just my first proper attempt to think outside the generally-accepted Dorabella crypto box. It’s early days, but we shall see where it all eventually leads…

Enjoy! 🙂

Tipping my (virtual) hat frenetically in the direction of Zodiac Killer Cipher-meister Dave Oranchak yet again, it’s time to reveal one of the very few cipher mysteries from Ohio. (Might it be the only one? Let me know if it isn’t!)

Dave had found this story mentioned on the consistently curious (in a nice way) Futility Closet website, which itself had presumably found it from a 1916 edition of “Enigma”, the magazine of the National Puzzlers’ League (later reprinted here).

“The police department of Lima, O., is greatly puzzled over a cryptic message received in connection with the robbery of a Western Ohio ticket agent. Here it is: WAS NVKVAFT BY AAKAT TXPXSCK UPBK TXPHN OHAY YBTX CPT MXHG WAE SXFP ZAV FZ ACK THERE FIRST TXLK WEEK WAYZA WITH THX.”

As normal with such half-remembered stories, there’s no mention of anything specific that might actually help us track it down. But I decided to have a look anyway: and quickly found two mentions of it in the Lima Times-Democrat newspaper. The original mention was on the 3rd July 1916 (though the scan of it is barely readable)…

Lima-03Jul1916

i.e.

“At the request of a citizen of …… (we present?) a note written in cypher. As it is of the utmost importance that the contents of the note be ascertained. Any suggestions by readers of this paper which will …. assist in learning …. of the note will be … appreciated. The note is as follows: …”

…while there was a follow-up mention on the 7th July 1916 with a (probably spurious) guess as to the alphabet…

Lima-07Jul1916

So the NPL transcript was nearly correct, except that it had split “ZAVFZ” into “ZAV FZ” (you can just about make out “zavfz” on the original Lima Times-Democrat report) and merged “WAYX ZA” to “WAYZA”. So, the correct “Ohio cipher” ciphertext should be:

WAS NVKAFT BY AAKAT TXPXSCK UPBK TXPHN OHAY YBTX CPT MXHG WAE SXFP ZAVFZ ACK THERE FIRST TXLK WEEK WAYX ZA WITH THX

Well… given that we still don’t know the exact town or date of the incident, and the Enigma retelling of the story seems not to have quite matched what the local newspaper actually said (e.g. it was reported by a “citizen”), we’re still left with plenty of mysteries. Perhaps other newspaper reports from the time will reveal more of the story… anyone who wants to take this on, please be my guest!

All the same, to me the ciphertext does look exactly like the kind of ad hoc partially-improvised agony column ciphers Tony Gaffney used to eat for breakfast, so maybe he’ll see straight through this particular visual trick and crack it quicker than you can say “vividly ovoviviparous”… 😉

Just the merest hint of a nudge to your collective set of virtual elbows, to remind you that the first Voynich London pub meet for basically ages is this evening (7th March 2013), at The Prospect of Whitby in Wapping. Though having said that, all cipher mysteries are fair game, not just the Voynich Manuscript: hence cipher pigeon fanciers and armchair treasure hunters are more than welcome to come along too. Plenty of room for everyone!

I’ll be there from 6.15pm or so, hoping to catch up on the latest Euro cipher gossip from Gotha and elsewhere, courtesy of Herr Cipher Skeptic himself, Klaus Schmeh, who’s on a flying visit to London having had a swift peek at the various enciphered books in the British Library (“The Subtlety of Witches”, etc). So if you can make your way to Wapping Wall for even half an hour, it would be really great to see you.

[Even stronger nudge: Tony Gaffney, what on earth do I have to do to persuade you to come along? I haven’t seen you in 25 years or so!]

Just so you know: if it’s a nice evening (or if someone happens to bring their dog along with them, John 🙂 ), the chances are we’ll be located in the terraced area through the pub to the back left (looking out over the Thames). Otherwise, we could be anywhere on the pub’s two floors, depending on how busy it happens to be. Looking forward to it!

Despite The Dorabella Cipher‘s brevity, its link to composer Sir Edward Elgar (who wrote it) has brought it a cult following over the years. Like other unbroken ciphers, it has appeared as a mysterious motif in TV plays, novels, and even recently in a children’s book (The Orphan of the Flames).

dorabella-cipher-image

At first sight, it looks to be merely a straightforward simple substitution cipher of the kind that pen, paper, and an agile mind should crack relatively quickly. But what is mystifying is that even though Elgar apparently used precisely the same pigpen-like (3 sets of 8 orientations each) cipher alphabet elsewhere in his writings and notes, the letter-for-symbol replacements he used there make no sense when applied to his Dorabella Cipher. The key seems to match the lock, but doesn’t open the gate.

Moreover, given that the ciphertext’s statistical distribution sits awkwardly with those of natural languages, code-breakers’ numerous attempts to shoehorn their preferred substitutions into the cipher’s three short lines come across as clunky and false (at best). Worst of all, I’m sorry to say that even prolific cipher-solver Tony Gaffney’s ingenious and elegantly-structured decryption failed to please pretty much anyone apart from him.

However, the upside to all that grim cryptanalysis is the indisputable truth that Elgar messed around with language quite a lot, typically in a playful and mischievous way. In general, he loved subverting the rules of language, speech and music, which arguably culminated in his famous Enigma Variations, which some people like to call ‘musical cryptograms’ because many lightly parody (for example) various close friends’ speech and laughter rhythms.

Yet what has long tipped my own judgment against the Dorabella Cipher’s being a cipher of any sort is that by 14th July 1897 (the date of the note), Elgar (who wrote the note) hadn’t known Dora Penny (to whom or for whom the note was written) very long at all; and they never communicated in any kind of cipher before or after that date. But even so, my opinion was no more than a hunch, based only on various modern references on Elgar’s life I’d read… not very satisfactory, but that’s how these things tend to go.

Anyway, having spent far too long reading and relying on secondary sources on this particular cipher mystery, a few weeks ago I decided to instead go right to the source of the story – Dora Penny’s book “Edward Elgar: Memories of a Variation” (I bought a copy of the 1946 second edition, which has rather more information about the Enigma Variations than the first edition), written under her married name “Mrs Richard Powell”.

What I read there only served to strengthen my historical argument against The Dorabella Cipher’s being a cipher at all. Elgar and Penny first met on 6th December 1895, and the cipher was only the third letter Elgar ever wrote to Dora (if indeed, as she points out, it is a letter at all). (Also, he only started calling her “Dorabella” in 1898, so there’s a case to be made that its name isn’t chronologically accurate… oh well!) From all I could see, it would defy common sense if he had sent her something written in an deliberately intractable cipher: no matter how much of a fascination he personally had with such things, cryptography of any sort was not a discussion subject the two friends seemed to have shared at all.

And yet what we see does so resemble an enciphered cryptogram, a paradox which ultimately gives it its place at the Cipher Mysteries top table: for it really ought to be a simple cipher, but it surely is not one. And I find it hard not to hear Elgar’s voice saying to Dora Penny exactly what he said to her about the Enigma Variations (one of which is ‘hers’) – that surely she “of all people” would be able to unwrap its central mystery, its hidden themes. Wouldn’t his cipher, too, be steganography – hidden in plain sight?

As to the content of the note, I don’t believe that the newly married Elgar would have sent Dora Penny, for all the fun they had together (going out to the races, seeing Wolverhampton Wanderers, reading maps, flying kites, etc) a love letter. So in all probability, I think that what we are looking at here is a three line note or letter from him to her, in broadly the same joking and playful manner that he adopted in his other letters to her (though probably not as Byzantine in lexicographical complexity as later letters would become), regardless of the particular manner in which that effect is achieved.

The only other clue I have to offer is that in July 1897, the Elgars were living in a house called “Forli” (named after the talented Renaissance painter Melozzo da Forli, who incidentally gets mentioned a few times in Elizabeth Lev’s rather good The Tigress of Forli) in Malvern in Worcestershire. And so I wondered whether “Forli” and/or “Malvern” might be effective as cribs into the cryptogram, for Elgar would typically head even very short notes with his current address (several of which are charmingly reproduced as inserts in Dora Penny’s book). OK, it’s not quite “HEILH ITLER” at the start of Enigma messages, but you gotta work with what you’ve got, right? 🙂

And so with all these fragmentary clues in mind, I stared and stared and stared at the Dorabella Cipher, trying to see what Elgar (mistakenly) thought Dora Penny would see straight away. And then I stared somemore. After a (fairly long) while, here’s what I noticed:-

dorabella-forli-malvern

Essentially, I suspect that Elgar was so certain that Dora Penny would know what he would be saying in a short note that all he felt he needed to do was to write the general form of the words (even presented in the form of a ciphertext-like medium) and she would still be able to ‘read’ them. [Unfortunately, this proved not to be true!] So, I believe that what we are looking at could well be more like Elgar’s improvised steganographic attempt at a mind-reading trick than a traditional ciphertext per se. Such a process would (probably) produce something like what we see: a non-mathematical stegotext that fails to have the kind of rigorous statistical profile that “proper” ciphers would.

I’m the first to admit that it’s far more of a wobbly observation and a loose speculation than a rigorous proof: but what I’m proposing is that the Dorabella Cipher could turn out to be a quite different class of object from that which code-breakers have been trying (unsuccessfully) to crack. It’s not the end of the road here, but it might possibly be the very start of one… hopefully we shall see! 🙂

Because people keep telling me nice things about Klaus Schmeh’s recently-started blog Klausis Krypto Kolumne (and there’s you thinking you couldn’t read German, tcha!), I thought a visit was a little overdue.

The first thing I saw there was his brief page on the Gentlemen’s Cipher, a cipher taken from “the papers of a gentleman recently deceased”, and printed in “The Gentlemen’s Magazine” in April 1748. (It was mentioned in Cryptologia in 1978)

At first glance it seemed an awful lot like a simple (monoalphabetic) substitution cipher; and the repeated 3-gram at the start of lines 4 and 5 was probably “THE”; hence I thought it would probably be easy to break. So for a pleasant change, rather than just passing it on to Tony Gaffney Baloney to break while his half-full kettle boils (as per normal), I thought I’d instead transcribe it and try to solve it myself. Which I did.

In the end, though, all I actually did was paste my transcription into WebDecrypto, which got sufficiently close to the plaintext in a matter of seconds that I could Google it. It turned out to be nine lines from a 1699 poem by Sir Samuel Garth – “To die is landing on some silent shore / Where billows never break nor tempests roar / etc”. All of which is somewhat coincidental: so perhaps The Gentlemen’s Magazine’s correspondent “R.M.” who submitted the cryptogram was having a gentle laugh, having concocted the story of the “gentleman recently deceased”? I think so, but make of it what you will.

Anyway, if you want to see the whole thing, I’ve put up a short page describing The Gentlemen’s Cipher here. Case closed! 🙂

Here’s news of a cipher mystery sent my way by generous Spanish blogger Eloy Caballero (who I enjoyed talking with at the Voynich Centenary conference in Frascati). Biblioteca Nacional de Madrid MSS/994 is “Memorial de los servicios prestados a los Reyes Felipe II y Felipe III por D. Luis Valle de la Zerda, correspondencia y documentos del mismo“. All the description of MSS/994 on p.216 of the general inventory is:-

8. La cifra que Geronio Sertori milanes ofreció a S. M. por suya, y el Consejó de Estado la cometió para que la viese Luis Valle de la Zerda, el cual mostró al dicho Sertori un papel en que estaba la misma declarada por el al Rey Don Phelippe Segundo [hacía 15 años]” (fol.83 – 91[?]).

Now, Luis Valle de la Cerda (1552[?]-1606) was a courtier who not only had in 1590 reformed the Spanish national finances with the introduction of what was effectively state pawnshops [the ‘Montes de Piedad’, there’s a 2003 book by Anne Dubet on his role in that if you’re interested], but had also been made Cipher Secretary by Philip II: MSS/994 is a collection of a few choice cipher documents and keys collected and copied by him.

So far, so obscure: but what triggered this manuscript’s recent lurch into visibility was a PhD final year project by Sara Gómez Hernández, who transcribed this Sirtori cipher together with a Spanish cipher used when sending back descriptions of mines in India (but for which the cipher key has long been lost), and ran them through the well-known Cryptool online app. Though I might well have misinterpreted her results, her conclusion seems (to me) to be that these aren’t fancy-pants Vigenère polyalphas but rather just monoalphabetic ciphers (though she doesn’t offer anything so useful as a decryption of either, sorry all you armchair treasure hunters!)

Anyway, here’s a tidied-up version of Hernández’s Figure 8, which shows the 27-symbol transcription she settled upon for the Sirtori cipher:-

This yields this transcription:-

AYCLPDEAFGRF3RNFCSPFJPKEPOSLMEJBBNGDKNMMPPJSFPFB3SGDPKJRB3MF39ANLP
ONLPYRSRPFPFNGD2CPSALAUB3OB3KJB3NFNBECPNGANLB3PMNNBRSENF3PNBSJRNG
EDLPKEDGK20KCN4CF3JEESNLODPUPNROZNGF3JNB3BSJZDK5ANPSNPNN6GF3JNRSF3J
JNB3BKIADOCKN4F3SJB3B3SLJNBNF3GNPJPNBF3RNA3DSNANNBDNANBNB3RNSK8NC
PF3LEADUF3B3UNB3FASKSNLD24EAKGAF3NNBSJF3NP555DF3GCPB3JB3AMMPB3KRSL
PNBRSF3NPF3G5ESDF32NBCSKAF3LUKPB3NBOGRKJB3UDF3CP8KNDUPNBNRF3DAGAG
B32B3NBSPR2ANPF3DKNS3RNDFNBKD8F3NFB3UR2PF3GSFFNDP8PJJNBSB3NNBSP23Z
F3NDNS3KL3JF3B3NPNBNSGS3RPDKNAF3KL3PB3KNEDEPNF3XSRF3LPNPLXPF3GB3LDN
BFF3NPL8LNXLSKPB35DF3ZSNR2GALZAF3LKPNNBEPJRPNBKS3EBBBB3YLNGLPJMPMSN
BAPANLRB3ENKPRENANBNBYANB3B3P2DLNBPARPEJB35KF35DANBB32AJKPEPMC8SE
B3SLDF3GAPRYNPJNBDPRF3PNLBBNGEKPNKB3B3RNSLBBB3F3RYNAARPNBNEGKB3NSL
3DRF3XB3PANCPYNGJNBENL

The three pages of ciphertext Hernández includes are (I think) page 85,
page 86, and page 87.

By now, you pretty much all know me well enough to have worked out my first question, which is (of course): do I believe this transcription? Because if you start out by getting the transcription basically wrong, there’s a high chance you’ll have little or no success with all the subsequent stages that stand upon that transcription.

So, let’s look closely at the first line of the second paragraph, not because I’m trying to be difficult but because it’s slightly clearer on the page than the first paragraph. Note that I’ve split it up into two halves to make it fit nicely on the screen:

Can you see the problem yet? What seems to have happened is that nearly all the punctuation-like marks have been discarded in the transcription (and for what reason? None!)… but this is surely a recipe for disaster! 🙁 Look again at my colourized version, and I think you’ll see quite a different text…

Now, only loosely following the key above I would transcribe this not as “YRSRPFPFNGD” (and what’s that all about?) but as “YR; S.E, NS3 YS, JR, NGE. , ,“, which is hugely different. So… am I at all surprised that Cryptool was unable to break such a wobbly transcription? No, sadly I am not. 🙁

And with that, I pass the whole thing over to my esteemed friend Mr Tony Gaffney to transcribe and crack his own way. He’ll see straight through its superficial scribal flourishes, so I suspect this will be right up his street. Go for it, Tony! (And the rest of you try to keep up!) 🙂

PS: incidentally, there’s some online discussion on this here in the Spanish Kriptopolis security blog, but I didn’t notice anything that seemed hugely informative or crackworthy – please feel free to tell me if I’ve missed something big there!

Here’s a bit of fun for you that’s only running for a few more days: a Voynichese-style challenge cipher courtesy of everyone’s favourite hirsute cipher reclusive Tony Gaffney. Here it is (click on it for a more detailed image):-

Tony Gaffney challenge cipher

He says:-

The above could almost be a missing page from the VM. If anyone cares to have a go at deciphering it, it is the start of a very well known Italian story – the plaintext is Italian and it reads left-to-right and top-to-bottom in the normal fashion.

What kind of cipher is it?

Here’s a basic transcription (into EVA) to get you going, assuming that is indeed a genuine cipher:-

p aiin deey eedy lched otoched r qochedchedy aiin eedy chedeed otoeed ch
qochedy lched otochedy chy cthey dchedy siin chdy daiin otoch dcthey cthey
otochedaiin eedy qo otod aiin lched eedy lched otochedoto qochedaiin etey
qochedee dotochedy otoaiiny daiin otocheds daiin eedy chedeed eeds qochedy
aiin eeotochedy
p l daiiny lched otochedy s eedr r otochedchedeed dy eey chedeed daiin eey
dchched dcthey otochedchedeed dy lched eedoto qochedy oto dotochedy eey
eedaiin eedy otoaiiny daiin otoch dcthey cthey otochedaiin eedy qoched siin
eedaiin s otoched
p chedeed eedaiiny r qochedy s otoched qochedy eey chedeed dch l qochedy
lched otochedy m otol l dy qochedy l daiiny daiin dchedy aiin dcthey
eedy otoched ry oto qochedeey cthey otochedcthey otochedaiin eedy
lched otochedy chedeed dch cthey dy chedeed eedr eedch dcthey eedy 
p chched dch eedy otoched lched otochedeey l qochedcthey cthey otochedy
dy chedeed cthyched otochedy eey dch dy chedeed dcthet cthey otoched
oto eedy qochedy eey dee eedy daiin oto eedaiin eedy chedeed eedaiiny
chedeed cthyched otoched s otochedt lched otoched chedeed qoeeed odaiin ch
doto eed 
            *          *          *          *          *          *
            |          |          |          |          |          |

Enjoy! 🙂

I’ve had a few recent emails from historical code-breaker Tony Gaffney concerning the Voynich Manuscript, to say that he has been hard at work examining whether Voynichese might in fact be an example of an early Baconian biliteral cipher.

This is a method Francis Bacon invented of hiding messages inside other messages, by (say) choosing between two typefaces on a letter-by-letter basis – that is, steganographically hiding a binary message inside another message, one binary digit at a time. To squeeze in a 24-letter cryptographic alphabet, you’d need 5 bits (2^5 = 32), a bit like a fixed-length Morse code. Bacon proposed the following basic mapping:-

a   AAAAA   g     AABBA   n    ABBAA   t     BAABA
b   AAAAB   h     AABBB   o    ABBAB   u/v   BAABB
c   AAABA   i/j   ABAAA   p    ABBBA   w     BABAA
d   AAABB   k     ABAAB   q    ABBBB   x     BABAB
e   AABAA   l     ABABA   r    BAAAA   y     BABBA
f   AABAB   m     ABABB   s    BAAAB   z     BABBB

Immediately, it should be obvious that this is (a) boring to encipher, (b) awkward to typeset and proof, (c) boring to decipher, and (d) it requires a printed covertext five times the size of the ciphertext. So… while this would be just about OK for someone publishing prolix prose into which they would like to add some kind of hidden message for posterity, it’s not honestly very practical for “MEET ME BY THE RIVER AT MIDNIGHT”. Here’s a simple example of what it would look like in action (though using cAmElCaSe rather than Times/Arial, I’m not that sadistic):-

to Be, OR noT To be: ThaT is ThE quesTIon:
whETher ‘tiS nOBleR in the Mind tO SuffeR
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
[…]

Famously, the giants of ‘enigmatology’ (David Kahn’s somewhat derisive term for hallucinative Baconian Shakespeare-ology) Ignatius Donnelly and Elizabeth Wells Gallup hunted hard for biliteral ciphers in the earliest printed editions of Shakespeare, but I’m pretty sure there’s more in the preceding paragraph than they ever found. 🙂

Historically, Bacon claimed to have invented this technique as a youth in Paris (which would have been circa 1576), so it is just about possible (if you half-close your eyes when you look at, say, the fifteenth century marginalia, and squint like mad) that he (or someone to whom he showed his biliteral cipher) might have used it to encipher the Voynich Manuscript around that time. But that leads on to two questions:

  • How might the stream of enciphered bits be hidden inside Voynichese?
  • How could we decipher it reliably?

Tony’s suggestion is that Voynichese might be hiding “dots” and “dashes” (basically, binary zeroes and ones) in the form of ‘c’-like and ‘\’-like strokes (and where gallows are nulls and/or word delimiters), something along the lines of this:-

tony-gaffney-biliteral-demoSpookily, back in 1992, Jim Reeds tried converting all the letters (apart from gallows) to c’s and i’s, to see if anything interesting emerged:-

Starting with the original D’Imperio transcription, I converted some characters to ‘c’ and some others to ‘i’, and then counted letter pairs (for pairs of adjacent non space chars, viz, in the same word).

letters mapped to c: QWXY9CSZ826
letters mapped to i: DINMEGHRJK

The results, sorted by decreasing frequency:
15481 cc
4774 Ai
4375 Oi *** O like A on right
3612 cO *** O like A on left
2591 cA
2528 OF
2482 4O
2449 Fc
1496 Pc
1427 OP
1390 ic *** rule breakers
1313 Oc
1212 FA
690 cF
495 PA
455 iO
452 cP
362 Bc
359 FO
354 PO
330 iF
275 iA *** rule breakers
168 OB
164 ci *** a few more rule breakers
124 AT
102 Vc
89 cB
88 OA
87 BO
71 Ac
68 ii
54 OV

From which one sees that O is as much c-like on the left and I-like on the right as A is.

Also notice that ic and ci does occur. In the B corpus, I-like letters seem to occur only at the ends of words. Typically a word starts out C-like and ends up I-like.

Can this I-like, C-like, and neutral stuff be a cryptological not linguistic phenomenon? Maybe the author has a basic alphabet where each letter has both a C-form and an I-form. He writes out the text in basic letters, and then writes the Voynich MS, drifting in and out of the C and I forms, just to amuse us. If this were the case, we should treat Currier <2> and Currier <R> as the same, etc, etc.

Or the author could be putting all the info in the choice of C-form versus I-form: C-form could be ‘dot’, and I-form could be ‘dash’, and choice of ‘base letter’ is noise. (Say, only the C/I value of a letter following a gallows counted, or maybe that and plume-presence of letter following a gallows.) That gives you a sequence of bits or of ‘dibits’, which is used in a Baconian biliteral or Trithemian triliteral cipher, say.

Or if you figure each word starts C-like and ends I-like, maybe the only signficant thing is what happens at the transition, which will take the form cAi or cOi. The significant thing is the pair of ci letters.

On rereading this all, it seems unlikely.

Could the VMs really be built on some kind of c-and-\ biliteral cipher? Cryptologically, I’d say that the answer is almost certainly no: the problem is simply that the ‘\’ strokes are far too structured. Though Tony’s “abandon all hope” demo shows how this might possibly work, his example is already both too nuanced (with different length cipher tokens, somewhat like Morse code but several centuries too early) and too far away from Voynichese to be practical.

While I would definitely agree that Voynichese is based in part around a verbose cipher (as opposed to what Wilkins [below] calls “secret writing by equall letters”), I really do doubt that it is as flabbily verbose as the biliteral cipher (and with lots of delimiters / nulls thrown in, too). I’d guess that a typical Herbal A page would contain roughly 30-40 characters’ worth of biliteral information – and what kind of secret would be that small?

As an historical sidenote, Glen Claston discussed the biliteral cipher on-list back in 2005:-

[…] I’ll clue you in to Bacon research – only two books are of interest, both post-fall for Lord Bacon. (I own originals of all of them, so I’m positive about this). The biliteral cipher exists in only two books, the first of which is the Latin version “De Augmentis”, London edition, 1623. This will lead you to the second, published “overseas”. (No real ground-breaking secrets there however). It raises its head only one other time, in a book entitled “Mercury, the Swift and Secret Messenger”. (Only two pages here, at the beginning, a simple exercise). [A brief use in a Rosicrucian manuscript, but Bacon was not a Rosicrucian, so this is simple plagiarism].

To be accurate, John Wilkins’ 1641 “Mercury, the Swift and Secret Messenger” does actually devote most of its Chapter IX to triliteral and biliteral ciphers (which he also calls “writing by a double alphabet”), with a reference in the margin specifically pointing to Bacon’s “De Augmentis” as its source. Personally, I suspect that Wilkins was having more fun with…

Fildy, fagodur wyndeeldrare discogure rantibrad

…though I suspect a “purer” version of the same would be…

Fildy, fagodur wyndeldra rogered ifsec ogure rantebrad

Read, decipher, enjoy! 🙂

A fascinating email just arrived at Cipher Mansions from Tony Gaffney, our virtual cryptologer-in-residence at the British Library. While looking at BL Add. MS 39660 recently, he noticed a set of dates for ten popes written in an unusual mixture of Roman numbers and Arabic numerals (“an9 pm9” = “annus primus“, and “ufq3” = “usque“):-

That is:-

  1. cclxxxij
  2. m cclxxxiiij
  3. m cc lxxxx
  4. m cx ij
  5. 1 40 viij
  6. 1 4 10 an9 pm9
  7. 14 12
  8. 14 17 ufq3 1430  an9 pm9
  9. 1 431 ufq3 1446
  10. 14 46 ufq3 1455

According to the BL’s bibliographic description, this was written on paper in Italy, with the later popes added not before 1455: while Tony adds that the “v” in the fifth date “is written in the old style of a backward sloping b“, hence a 15th century hand. All of which gives us a basic prediction for where and when we might expect to find this unusual kind of mixed Roman / Arabic numbers: Italy in the second half of the 15th century. Examining BL Add. MS 39660 even more closely may to help us be more specific: but that’s a job for another day.

The presence of “pm9” here is particularly heartening, as this is precisely what is used for the quire number in Q1 of the Voynich Manuscript. Intriguingly, Tony notes that the “cc” pairs in the first three dates are ligatured at the top, just like the EVA “ch” glyph, though he has previously seen this in the 14th century Royal MS 12BXXV f.283 (which is a “table converting Arabic & Latin numbers“). And furthermore, he adds that “in the fifth [date], we have not only a combination of Arabic and Latin numbers but the 4o is the Voynich EVA qo linked!!“. Of course, that might just be a coincidence, but even so…

I’ve just got back from Barcelona (more on that shortly), and have a brief thought on the VMs for you.

Tony Gaffney emailed a few days ago to say that he had posted up his initial thoughts on the Voynich Manuscript to the Ancient Cryptography forum’s Voynich Manuscript topic: overall, his initial code-breaker’s reaction is that everyone else seems to be overcomplicating the issue – the VMs can’t be that tricky, can it?

Alas, for all Tony’s skill and cunning, I believe that he is trying to read the covertext, much as I described here. In poker terms, the VMs is full of “tells“, tiny behavioural tics, mannerisms and rituals that give away what’s going on under the surface: to a code-breaker’s eyes, the problem here is that there are so many tells that it is hard to accept that they all might be valid at the same time, as opposed to being the quirks of (for example) an unknown language. But they are all tells!

All the same, I’ve been prompted (partly by Tony’s desire to see the VMs as a simple object) into wondering whether my own reading of “4o” (as a “subscriptio” token, indicating a word-initial contraction following the first plaintext letter) might be overcomplex. If not that, though, then what kind of thing might “4o” be?

Thinking about it over the weekend, perhaps the simplest explanation might be that it codes for “lo” [‘the’] in the (very probably Italian, & very probably heavily-abbreviated) plaintext. “lo dragone” would then be written something like “4odra[gone]” (depending on how you encipher the rest of the letters). This has the additional benefit of explaining 4o’s ciphertext shape, as the “lo” would be steganographically concealed within the shape of the “4o”, while its very presence would be concealed by running it into the subsequent word (so, “4otedy” rather than “4o tedy“).

voynich-qo-lo

I also suspect that the (rarely seen) free-standing “4” is an entirely different letter entirely… but that’s an issue for a different day.

PS: there isn’t a lot of literature on “4o” (“qo” in EVA), but here’s one brief paper (Sazonov 2003) to be going on with.