A Trip to the Rosettes

The rosettes pages of the Voynich Manuscript are filled with some of the most controversial illustrations of the entire book. Many of it’s elements seem close enough to real objects or places to excite a possible identification to some actual places and buildings. I don’t ascribe to the latter, of course, as I think this is simply a fantasy illustration. Inspired, yes… as I feel most or all of the Voynich is… inspired, altered, compiled from many sources, both real and literary… then imagined into what it is, whatever that is. Irregardless of this, I have felt it would be most helpful to create these illustrations in three dimensions.  The original artist was clearly representing 3D terrain and structures, and gave enough clues to “reconstruct” those elements a bit closer to what must have been in their head when they did so.

Aerial View of the Rosettes

As I wrote in the description of the youtube animation (embedded at the bottom of this post),

“My intention in creating this video is not to favor one theory over any other… only to attempt to visualize the rosettes page as the artist originally envisioned it… … do not use this image or video as any sort of study guide… I have not exactly recreated all the detail or textures, and have made simplified versions of some textured areas for clarity. So if you are interested in the manuscript, research it carefully, and download the high quality SID images from the Beinecke Library at Yale University.”

However, since this is a blog, and unlike youtube and facebook, I will give my opinion on this matter. Of course people will see thing in these pages differently from each other. Some believe they have seen real places, and actually visited them in person. Some believe that the center rosette is somewhere in Italy or Russia. But while describing the real place it evokes to them, they never describe the giant tubes radiating out from the plaza.

The Tower in the Hole, textured

Nor, of course, the Tower in the Hole, amply discussed on it’s own page. But if this is not a real place, then is it a real place, altered? I don’t think so. It is not close enough to a real place to be any real place. Inspired? Yes I think it may be.

Rosettes Castles: Walled city of Renfusa?

The castles of the walled city, above. I’ve created the relative heights of the upper rosettes based mostly on the artist’s use of terraces. The multi-tiered terraces leading from the two outer, upper, rosettes, to the center one, differ from the other connectors to the other rosettes. As for the generic cylinders which I have rendered their bases, I did so because there is no detail to be seen under the obscuring disks of decoration.

Tubes, Tubes, Tubes.

So the upper left rosette has giant tubes sticking out… the center rosette has more. What could this mean? Are they Cannon? Chimneys? Maybe. But I like the idea they may be used to carry sound. From Francis Bacon’s New Atlantis,

“We have all means to convey sounds in trunks and pipes, in strange lines and distances.”

This is probably a reference to the experiments of Della Porta, and the ancient Greeks in fact, and others… who noted that sound could be transmitted and projected through tubes. The New Atlantis has the “House of the Six Days Work” at the eye of Bensalem. It would be appropriate for this main center of power and information to stay in touch with its surrounding lands… and large, radiating sound tubes would do the trick.

Orchard? With Rain Cloud?

The lower left rosette resembles closely the decorative look and features of the f85v2 image, which can be construed as an orchard or garden. There are four figures in this illustration, picking or holding some things… some are odd and unidentifiable, and others are clearly meant to be fruit or vegetables, and a grain or other plant.

Fruit Picker?

So if the lower left rosette can be thought of as an overview of this orchard, then the odd “blob” might make sense as a rain/storm cloud. In my 3D image it is rendered twice… once by our late-great Voynich artist, and then by me, floating and in 3D. Interestingly it has a tube coming from it, projecting toward this rosette. I might point out here that Cornelis Drebbel, who greatly influenced The New Atlantis, was believed to be able to make artificial rain, thunder, and lightening. From The New Atlantis:

“We have also great and spacious houses, where we imitate and demonstrate meteors — as snow, hail, rain, some artificial rains of bodies and not of water, thunders, lightnings; also generations of bodies in air — as frogs, flies, and divers others.”

Canopied Structures

I had various ideas about the illustrations at the top of the lower right rosette. It was not until I was working up this model that I came to feel they represent (as others already have felt) two canopied, tasseled, columned buildings. Others have also felt that there is Jewish iconography in this rosette. This is interesting, as there was a Jewish community on the fictional island of Bensalem, from New Atlantis.

Of course these interpretations are subjective, and others be correct in their own assumptions. I also accept that there could be variations in modeling these pages in 3D. Rene Zandbergen has suggested to me that some of the rosettes, with radiating designs, are evocative of certain domed structures… and so, he suggested, I might like to create them as domes. He wrote,

“For the visual effect, I have some unsolicited comments: the central circle should probably be highest of all. It makes sense to have it as a plateau. It would be great to add the sky blanket in a transparent way, if possible. A few other circles could be domes.”

I like those ideas, and the many others I have received. And Elmar Vogt has a blog post, with some points of his own. So I hope that although I have my own interpretation of the images on the rosettes, and what they might mean, that these representations are still of use to others to draw their own conclusions. If anyone would like a high resolution rendering of any particular view, please write me.

But who would use Vellum, anyway?

The choice of vellum for all the pages of the Voynich has been seen as a clue for the dating, origins and purpose of the book. The cost of vellum, and the era of common usage of the material, have been a major factor in the currently most accepted dating of the manuscript between about 1420 and 1460. Certainly by the mid 16th century vellum went out of favor, as it was easier and cheaper to print on paper… which was less expensive and more available as time went on. By the early 17th century, the time of my theory, the use of vellum as the pages of books was very uncommon. But for various reasons, it is not outlandish to consider it would have been used in this case, if considering the people and motivations found in my circle of influence, and the evidence we do have for it’s remaining use, availability, and the reasonable value these uses implied.

f99r from the Voynich Manuscript

But first of all, I do not think vellum was really all that expensive, from the middle ages to the early renaissance. From: “Old English libraries; the making, collection and use of books during the middle ages”:

“For all permanent purposes ” boc-fel,” or book-skin,
was used; either vellum or ” parchemyn smothe, whyte
and scribable.” Vellum and parchment were interchange-
able terms in medieval times ; but parchment was commonly
used…. … it was not so expensive as vellum : the average price being two shillings per dozen skins as compared with eight shillings per dozen skins of vellum.”

The book gives other examples, showing that for two to eight shillings one could obtain a dozen vellum skins, certainly more than enough to make a Voynich.

But let us assume, as some have suggested, that by my time frame of 1610 to 1620, vellum would have equalled the “cost of a small farm”. I won’t go into the relative values of farms in the appropriate centuries, let’s just assume it was “that” expensive. This actually favors my theory, for this reason: Comparing the relative suggested uses, as an herbal, as a pharma, as a hoax, or my theory, as an artifact of the literature of Bacon, I think that cost would actually be less of a factor in my case. This, because the circle of Francis Bacon, and Bacon himself, was quite used to spending inordinate amounts of money on very elaborate productions and celebrations. A masque for James I and Queen Anne, for instance, would have props and costumes designed by Inigo Jones, with single dresses costing more than 1,000 pounds. The wedding celebrations of Princess Elizabeth are said to have cost over 40,000 pounds. For someone in this group, at this time, to have created the Voynich, even if expensive, would not be so unusual.

But, as it turns out, vellum was commonly used in many very ordinary ways at this time, implying both reasonable cost and easy availability:

It was used by artists for common sketches:

Gerrit de Heer, detail, circa 1630 to 1640

The album amicorum, friendship albums, were sometimes made on vellum.

…and it was of course, used as a binding and cover for almost all printed books, and for many legal documents such as deeds and writs.

Michael Maier, the Rosicrucian writer, alchemist, doctor to Rudolf II, and acquaintance of the court of James and Drebbel, created two Christmas “visiting cards”: One for James I, and one for Henry, his son. From Joscelyn Godwin’s essay in “The Rosicrucian Enlightenment Revisited”, entitled, “The Deepest of the Rosicrucians: Michael Maier (1569-1622)”. In 1611:

“Maier addressed himself immediately to King James I and VI. His visiting card, now in the Scottish Record Office in Edinburgh (GD 242/212), took a most unusual form. It was a Christmas greeting to the King, made of a folded parchment 33 by 24 inches, on which a central Rose-Cross emblem made out of words in gold and red is flanked by four Latin poems. Two of these poems address James, while the others are put into the mouths of four archangels and two shepherds attendant on Christ’s nativity. The parchment includes a musical canon in six parts representing the songs of the angels and shepherds. All in all, it is a most curious object, displaying the verbal ingenuity and the multimedia approach that marked Maier’s creative style. It is also the earliest known appearance of the Rose-Cross symbol in England.”

Crop from Micheal Maier Christmas Card

Maier’s presentation to Henry, who died before he could receive it, was similar, and also on parchment. So here we have a large, 33 by 24 inch parchment, with painted illustrations and writing on it. The size alone would be enough to create approximately 12 leaves of the Voynich… that is, 10 percent. And Maier’s two cards would equal 20 percent of the vellum needed to create “a Voynich”. Clearly this vellum was available to Maier, used by Maier, and not prohibitively expensive.

One other very curious and interesting example is this political parody from 1603. Which includes both mythological and real figures, which by folding, could be assembled in different ways.

Whimsical Royal Parody, 1603, Vellum

The use of vellum, therefore, was common, the cost of vellum, reasonable, the painting on vellum, frequent, in the early 17th century. It was used in greeting cards, the arts, in law, in binding. And as previously pointed out, optical devices were wrapped in it. Considering this, I do not personally consider cost and availability of vellum to be a factor against the Voynich having been created during the time frame I propose, nor by someone from the circle I suggest may have been responsible.

The “Real” Book of Prospero, and Drebbel’s Scarlet Red

Every manuscript of Shakespeare’s is long lost, and almost every shred of his writing. A few signatures, and a few questionable lines in the plays of others, is all we have of his. And, as far as I know, all the costumes of the original performances, the props… there is nothing left. But imagine if there existed a real book, not a prop book, which symbolized one of the most important concepts in one of Shakespeare’s most important and influential works? This is arguably the case, and I actually held this book in my hands.

Cornelis Drebbel, from his "Elements"

The character of Prospero, from the Tempest, is sometimes described as an autobiographical one. I agree with that line of thought… I do like the idea that Prospero voiced for Shakespeare his leaving the theater, of giving up his art for retirement. But besides the biography of Prospero, it is concurrently argued that he is partially inspired, and based on, Rudolf II of Prague, and Cornelis Drebbel. Robert Grudin makes this case in his 1991 article, “Rudolf II of Prague and Cornelis Drebbel: Shakespearean Archetypes?” (The Huntington Library Quarterly, Vol. 54, No. 3 (Summer 1991), pp. 181-205). After drawing similarities to the sciences and “magic” of both men to the works of Shakespeare, and to Prospero and his magical island, he concludes, “Shakespeare took aspects of both Rudolf and Drebbel for his characterization of Prospero.”

Prospero

And so Cornelis Drebbel, one of the most forgotten yet influential men of the Renaissance, is not forgotten in the works of Shakespeare. In this case his influence has to be surmised… his works are not directly mentioned as they are by Ben Jonson or Francis Bacon; nor is the character as obvious as Jonson’s Subtle of the Alchemist… also based on Drebbel. But knowing the profound influence Drebbel did have on his contemporaries, and the close relation Shakespeare must have had to the court of James, to Jonson, and to Bacon, there can be no doubt that Drebbel must have had an influence on Shakespeare.

Given that, then, let’s look at the one known (although little-known) possession of Drebbel’s still in existence: A little book of alchemy by Basil Valentine which, it seems, Drebbel carried with him in his pocket for years. This would be the 1603 edition of Basil Valentine’s 1603 “Of Natural and Supernatural Things”, rebound with his 1602 Treatise on the Tincture of Metals. This book was apparently given by Drebbel’s son in law, Abraham Keuffler, after Drebbel’s death, to John Winthrop (12 February 1606 – 26 March 1676), governor of Connecticut. Winthrop had an interest in all things scientific, and reported on many personal observations and experiments directly to the British Royal Society. Perhaps the book was given to Winthrop when he visited London in 1641-1643. At any rate, the book followed Winthop back to the Colonies, and eventually ended up in New York City, in the collection of his works and papers in the New York Society Library.

Owned by Drebbel? Gnomon in the Adler Museum

Of course I was very interested in seeing this book. In my years of studying Drebbel I was painfully aware that everything the man constructed or possessed had long since disappeared or lost his attribution… save one small gnomon in the collection of the Adler museum… a device constructed when Drebbel was only about 2 years old, but possibly owned by him… as it has his name engraved on it. And then I became aware of this book. I made an appointment to see it in person… it was described as having many “nota bene”… margin notes… and the idea that some of these notes would contain a clue to my work with the Voynich, or possibly give hints as to the interests and work of Drebbel in some personal way, was intriguing. But of course there was an element of interest in the emotional power such an object this book would possess for me… a book owned and carried by a man I had found to be so important to history, having influenced Bacon’s philosophies and the New Atlantis, and then, though indirectly, the foundation of the Royal Society.

As all things go, we are sometimes surprised at what we find when we are looking for something else. For although Drebbel is famous for many things, or at least, should be… his submarine, his isolating and production of oxygen, his fine engravings for Goltzius (and his own)… his perpetual machines… his fine optical devices, including the first quality twin-convex-lensed microscopes (one of which was the very device Faber peered through, and so first coined the term “microscope”)… although Drebbel can hold claim to these and many other discoveries and inventions, he was most known for his discovery of a process for manufacturing a brilliant red cochineal dye, the “Drebbel Red”. Drebbel himself was unable to successfully commercialize this process, but his two sons in laws… the Keufflers… did. And one of these sons, Abraham, is the above mentioned son in law who gave Winthrop Drebbel’s little alchemal.

The exact process Drebbel used, and exactly how he came to it, is and has been a subject of long debate. The author Amy Butler Greenfield recounts the history and impact of Cochineal dyes in her excellent book, “A Perfect Red”, and has a very insightful chapter on Drebbel and his process. She also experimented with the process herself, and has a webpage showing the procedure and results. It remains that the famous red dye of Drebbel figures greatly in the history and industry of Europe. Given that, it might then be understood the excitement I felt when I discovered that a few of the pages of Drebbel’s personal alchemal tome were splashed with an unusual and brilliant red stain! As I wrote to Ms. Greenfield, “…I was very surprised to see that several of the pages are stained with splashes of a red dye. Now of course this could be just about anything, including cranberry juice or cherry soda. But considering the controversies and interest, and the historical significance of Drebbel’s actual dye process, I thought I would bring this to your attention.”

Again, we cannot know what the red is on the pages of this book. Ms. Greenfield agrees. But considering the historical importance of this dye process, perhaps it might be of interest to someone, at some point, to test the spill. It would be, to my knowledge, the only existing example of Drebbel’s original red dye.

Amy Butler Greenfield's experiment

So like Drebbel’s cloudy legacy, touching on so much, but so silently, this book sits un-noticed in a small collection in New York … and yet represents powerful influences on both literature, and possibly, science and industry. It conceivably reflects not only one of the most profound literary concepts, a book of Prospero, but also possibly contains the last remaining evidence of one of the most important discoveries of the real Prospero, Drebbel’s Scarlet Red.

Prop, Hoax, Tribute or Art?

If we assume, as this theory does, that the Voynich Manuscript could be an “artifact of fiction”, this still does not give a specific reason for it’s creation. I mean, the theory surmises a “what”, but not a “why”. Of course the motivation for creation is of great interest, but lack of one does not detract… mostly because the motivation could be one of several known to have driven the creation of other faux books. Among the types of books are:

1. Prop books from stage (…and film, much later of course!), used to lend reality to a performance.
2. Books made to look as though they came from a fictional work of literature (whether or not the actual book is represented in the literature)
3. Hoax books meant to cheat someone for profit in some way, or simply play a trick.
4. Art books, representing no literature, created for their own beauty. .

This list of purposes may differ from the Wikipedia definition of “fictional books”, which do not actually need to exist. Obviously, the Voynich exists. Perhaps it’s purpose may cross into the “False Documents” category, as explained, “A false document is a form of verisimilitude that attempts to create a sense of authenticity beyond the normal and expected suspension of disbelief for a work of art. The goal of a false document is to fool an audience into thinking that what is being presented is actually a fact…” .

One of the more common uses of a fake book is as a stage prop. The great playwright, Christopher Marlow, wrote The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus about 1594. It quickly became a very popular play, and created some controversy for it’s themes of demonic worship. It was first published in printed form in 1604. Key to the play are the books of Faust… most specifically, the book given him by Mephistophilis. The first actors and producers of this play must have used a prop representation of this book, because Marlow’s stage direction is clear:

MEPHIS (to Faustus): Hold, take this book, peruse it thoroughly:

[Gives book.]

The play continues:

FAUSTUS. Now would I have a book where I might see all characters and planets of the heavens, that I might know their motions and dispositions.

MEPHIST. Here they are too. [Turns to them.]

FAUSTUS. Nay, let me have one book more,–and then I have done,– wherein I might see all plants, herbs, and trees, that grow upon the earth.

and later:

Enter ROBIN the Ostler, with a book in his hand.

ROBIN. O, this is admirable! here I ha’ stolen one of Doctor Faustus’ conjuring-books, and, i’faith, I mean to search some circles for my own use. Now will I make all the maidens in our parish dance at my pleasure, stark naked, before me; and so by that means I shall see more than e’er I felt or saw yet.

So it is clear that the play required prop books of some kind. We do not know what these books were like, of course. But if they were created accurately, one or more would certainly have contained mysterious and arcane images of “…all characters and planets of the heavens…”, their “…motions”. They may have contained the prop-maker’s interpretive illustrations of “…all plants, herbs, and trees, that grow upon the earth…”.

In Ben Jonson’s 1610 play The Alchemist, the concept of ancient books of arcane lore and alchemy resurface. Jonson does not specify that a prop book be used in the performance, but we already know the concept would not be unfamiliar. The form of such a book takes here at least two forms, although perhaps, none were ever used or seen. First, as a “Book of Solomon”, much as the tomes on Bensalem were envisioned by Bacon:

“MAM. Pertinax, [my] Surly, Will you believe antiquity? records? I’ll shew you a book where Moses and his sister, And Solomon have written of the art; Ay, and a treatise penn’d by Adam –

SUR. How!

MAM. Of the philosopher’s stone, and in High Dutch.

SUR. Did Adam write, sir, in High Dutch?

MAM. He did; Which proves it was the primitive tongue. And also, as a book of alchemy, on vellum:

MAM. ‘Tis like your Irish wood, ‘Gainst cob-webs. I have a piece of Jason’s fleece, too, Which was no other than a book of alchemy, Writ in large sheep-skin, a good fat ram-vellum.

The above seems to indicate that Jonson, well versed in Greek mythology, was an adherent of Palaephatus’s argument that the Golden Fleece represented a book of alchemy. I would also make note of the fact that the character of the alchemist, Subtle, is believed based on Cornelis Drebbel. I have also read, but not been able to verify or track down the source, that some believe Drebbel may have been a prop-maker. Ben Jonson certainly knew of Drebbel and his works, and probably knew the man, personally. Jonson was one of Francis Bacon’s scribes for a time, and Bacon also knew Drebbel. In another play, Jonson makes reference to Drebbel’s perpetual motion machine at Eltham Palace. So it is interesting to me, of course, that my first suspect for a Voynich author (less so, but still on the list) was Drebbel. I do not feel he would have created it as a notebook any longer, but as a prop?

Sir John Geilgud as Prospero... with prop book

So by the time Shakespeare wrote the Tempest, and by the time the Tempest was performed, first in 1611, then at the 1613 wedding of Princess Elizabeth and Frederick V… the concept of a prop book would certainly be a familiar one. One can speculate that such a book was “any old” book picked up for such a purpose, or that it would be blank, or none used at all… and believe me, these arguments have been presented (sometimes quite heatedly!) to me over the years. I’ve been told that it would be too expensive to create the Voynich for this purpose, for one thing. But I think the cost, if great (and I do not necessarily allow that the cost of the Voynich would have been all that great, in any case, and will have a post on this subject), I would not consider it a problem. There were vast expenditures for props and costumes for the masques and plays of the time, some with dresses costing upwards of a thousand pounds… and the great Inigo Jones designing some of them, and the sets. Francis Bacon himself arranged for his Gray’s Inn to back and support several performances. I would suggest that it would not have been at all unlikely that some effort and cost would have been put into such a prop book. But what of the books of Prospero then, in these first performances of the Tempest?

As I pointed out in the post, “The Aura of the Ancient Tome, circa 1611″, it is not known if such a prop book existed for these first Tempest performances. Shakespeare, unlike Marlowe, did not specify their inclusion. But it is also clear that the books are central to the theme of the play. Many modern performances of the Tempest have included such prop books. So I would also suggest that it would not be unlikely to find such a book in the 1611/13 performances, which some have also suggested included the actor Shakespeare in the semi-autobiographical role of Prospero. Did Shakespeare himself read the lines of Prospero, and hold in his hands a faux book, filled with faux magical symbols, plants, and other fantasy drawings? What would he have done with this book, after the performance? I do not know the earliest performance of the Tempest which included a prop Propero’s book, but there are many examples of modern ones.

Michael Hordern as Propero... with a prop book again

But of course we do not know if Bacon, Shakespeare, or anyone, had conceived of a play or masque to represent The New Atlantis, so I would not suggest as a first choice that the Voynich is a prop book for that fiction. If not a prop for an unknown performance of New Atlantis, we can look at other motivations. One of these would be a hoax. I don’t favor this idea, because I have not seen any evidence that the New Atlantis mythology was ever intended to fool anyone. I would doubt that such a book would have been created to convince anyone that Bensalem was a real place… although I think the Voynich, presented as such, would have done a fairly convincing job at the time. Of course the Voynich could be a hoax created for some other purpose, or some other time, as has been suggested. But that is not within the scope of my investigation, so I leave it to others to prove or disprove.

Next I’ll move to “artifact as a tribute”, as an inspirational art form, to accompany the story. Perhaps as a gift, to Bacon or other (Elizabeth at her wedding?). Such fictional books as tributes are not unheard of in history, although I have not been able to find examples contemporary to my theories. There have been many faux Necromicrons made in deference to H.P. Lovecraft’s mythology, but these come centuries later.

Faux Necronomicon Prop Book

And I found an interesting modern example of an inspired, tribute, book, created by one “Derek the Bard“. It seems to be inspired by a PC video game. Derek writes,

“Below are the first few pages I’ve completed in a prop book for my Camarilla Awakening PC, Abraxas. Its done in the style of John Winchester’s journal from, Supernatural, although I’ve written it almost entirely in gibberish Sanskrit. Most of the pictures are from a book on Chinese astrology, which I’ve altered slightly with the addition off odd symbols and the like.”

Derek the Bard's Faux Grimoire

Recently, as an artifact from her own modern mythology, J.K. Rowling created The Tales of Beedle the Bard. This was a book at first only described in her stories, but then created, “in the flesh”, as she envisioned it would look. It is possible to purchase a copy of this, in fact. Here is part of a review of the original, from Amazon:

“…let’s just start with one word: “Whoa.” The very fact of its existence (an artifact pulled straight out of a novel) is magical…”

I was stunned by the line, “an artifact pulled straight out of a novel”, as this had been exactly how I was envisioning the creation of the Voynich, if inspired by the fictional books in Bacon’s work. This example, of course, 400 years later… but the motivation would be virtually identical.

Faux book, "Beedle the Bard"

Even without the inspiration of a specific novel, or mythos, people seem to have a liking to the idea of a mysterious book, filled with the promise of lost knowledge, cultures, religions, sciences. Take a walk over to the blank notebook section of your local bookstore today, and you will see countless examples of faux-aged, leather covered and thong secured books, meant to evoke an ancient text or even, grimoire. Some even have alchemal symbols stamped on their covers. Never-mind that they will mostly end up with scrawled shopping lists, notes of business meeting and class schedules… the value is the rich impressions which they exude. The fascination with the mystery of ancient tomes was certainly just as prevalent in “my” time frame of 1610 to 1620, as clearly shown by the many inclusions of them in the literature and plays of the time, and the success of the fictional book, “The Chymical Wedding”. But would anyone have created the Voynich as a stand-alone work of art, a “just because”? I don’t doubt it would have been possible. As for today, there are many interesting examples of books being created as a stand-alone art form. Some more can be found here.

Books by Tim from Cali

So in answer to the question “why?”, which I have so often been asked, I can with confidence answer, “Because of this, this, this, or this… take your pick.” It is clear to me, that for a very long time, the look and feel and content of mysterious books has pervaded art, theatre, and literature. And it is also clear that for various reasons, from the purely practical to the whimsical and imaginative, people will and have put a great deal of effort into creating faux books, as one-off, beautiful works of art. Based on the Voynich’s look and content, combined with the knowledge that in the time frame of my theories, and human nature’s long passion for “the art of the book”… it would have been perfectly reasonable to expect it, or a book just like it, to have been made for one or more of the purposes I have outlined. H. Rich SantaColoma.

Star Trek TNG prop book: Try explaining THIS in 400 years!

Optical Timeline

As I wrote in my post, “Optical Comparisons”, the similarity of many of the cylinders in the Voynich Manuscript to optical devices is the starting point of the New Atlantis/Voynich theory. But if the cylinders do represent optics, and if the Voynich is an artifact representing The New Atlantis, then these optical illustrations would have to represent the type of optics from their time, or before… obviously not later. The range of time for the creation of the New Atlantis is unknown, but various experts have placed it from about 1608 to 1623. It was then finalized for print about 1623/24. And the earliest firm evidence for the existence of the Voynich is 1621, if we accept the De Tepencz name as meaning he owned it. So if the cylinders are optical, then they should look like the devices we would expect to see from between 1610 and 1621.

Janssen 1595 Microscope? Attribution controversial...

But as for existing examples of microscopes of this time range, none are known to have survived. There is one microscope, the 1595 Janssen device, which pre-dates the range. There is some evidence that Galileo had made a microscope as early as 1610, then one in 1614. And Kepler published Dioptrice, a 1611 book on optics, which contains fine diagrams of optical principles, theories, and devices. Among these is the first description of a twin-convex lens microscope (shown below).

Here is a quote from the Mccord Museum website, “In 1611, Johannes Kepler (1571-1630) suggested the construction of a compound microscope that used convex lenses for both the objective and the eyepiece. The Kepler microscope provided a larger field of view and became the prototype of the modern microscope.”

Of telescopes from this time, we have better examples and illustrations. Of course we are all familiar with Galileo’s 1609 telescope, which tells us what the state of the art optical devices of this time looked like. In this case, the telescope is covered with red and green vellum, and is tooled with gilding along the edges of the segments. These are features which are conceivably represented in the Voynich cylinders… although they are of shorter devices, which I believe could be microscopes. Kepler also owned a telescope about 1610-1611, and it’s design was “based on that of Galileo’s” device. Below is a portion of an accurate modern replica of Galileo’s telescope. The entire telescope is much longer, this is only one end. You can see the replica, made by Jim & Rhoda Morris, and how it was created, at this excellent site.

After the fall of Prague, and the later death of Rudolf in 1612, Drebbel pleaded with James I, to let him come back to London. He professed to be able to build a telescope able to “read a letter at a country mile”. While this is obviously an exaggeration, to make such a claim would be a dangerous gamble if he did not enough experience and knowledge in optics to feel confident of backing it up.

Then, between about 1619 and 1621 in London, Drebbel was producing microscopes for sale. He is credited with the production of the first twin-convex lensed devices. Remembering that this layout was first mentioned in Kepler’s 1611 Dioptrice, and Drebbel shared Rudolf’s court with Kepler, this cannot be a coincidence. Drebbel’s devices must have been based on Kepler’s, either from actual examples, or from the descriptions in Dioptrice. But that is moot to the timing, as it is well established he was making fine microscopes during this time. In fact it was a Drebbel microscope which insprired Faber to coin the term “microscope”… he was marveling at the quality of the lenses, and the clarity of the image of a flea, “the size of a chicken”. He wrote this in 1625, but the instrument was made 1619 to 1621.

The only known drawing of a Drebbel microscope is the one by Issac Beekman, from about 1630. It is probably inaccurately drawn, if the center line is meant to indicate the division between sliding tubes… because the drawing is tapered, and a tapered cylinder would not allow adjustment. And earlier descriptions of Drebbel’s microscopes do not mention such a taper. Here is a CAD illustration I made from Periesc’s 1622 detailed description:

I purposely gave the device generic arcing legs, not reminiscent of Voynich cylinder feet. This, because the shape or design of legs of the extant descriptions are not specified. But interestingly, one description does describe the legs of a Drebbel device as being “shaped like dolphins”. The “delphini” motif has long been popular on legs, often found on Baroque furniture, accessories, and even scientific devices. I argue that the legs on the Voynich cylinders may represent such “dolphin legs”, sometimes head down, sometimes fluke down… both arrangements being known.

At any rate, it has often been suggested that my use of illustrations from after 1620, and even, into the 18th century, to show microscope comparisons to Voynich cylinders, is incorrect and misleading. Also, on a popular blog, the author claims it is re-writing optical history to suggest that microscopes may predate 1620 at all! But even though no known examples of microscopes from between 1610 and 1620 exist, it is clear they were made, they were described, they were explained as early as 1611, and one may exist from as early as 1595. And given the known covering, coloring, decoration, lens glass color (blue and green tint) of the contemporary telescopes, it is not at all unlikely that some of the “lost” microscopes from this time shared these features. This is why I use some later microscopes… they show what a microscope would look like, covered and colored like the known telescopes from “my” time frame. Besides, it is only a few decades from that time frame, to the 1640 to 1675 surviving devices of Divini and others.

Optical Timeline

But all in all it is clear what the lost microscopes from the period of 1610 to 1620 might have looked like, and that this is quite like what the Voynich cylinders often do look like… whether they are just this, we do not know, one way or the other. H. Rich SantaColoma

17th Century Swimming Girdle?

One of the thinner comparisons I’ve made is the odd image on f79r to a floating device of some kind. I posted it on my main site, mostly to see how others felt about it. My daughter did not feel there was a hope of a connection… I agree with her to some extent, in that this object could be explained in many other ways. Here is the image:

Voynich Manuscript f79r "floating man"

On my site I point out Francis Bacon’s inclusion of a “swimming girdle” in his New Atlantis:

“We have ships and boats for going under water and brooking of seas, also swimming-girdles and supporters…”

But I had no way to compare this f79r object with what Bacon was thinking of when he wrote the above. So what of the “pegs” seemingly inserted in the device? That it is slightly curved around the back of the man/woman? Are they actually floating, or is he standing there? But the interesting thing is, as long as I have had this posted on my main site… and from my hits counter, it must have been seen by thousands of people… it has not elicited the same positive and negative responses my optical comparisons have. It’s actually gotten no response. I suppose it is because it’s been assumed you can have a swimming girdle in a 1460 herbal or pharma, for instance (and perhaps you can, I do not yet know… but conversely, why one would include one there), but not advanced optics… so whether a bad or good comparison, no one really cares. Well I do, actually, because I see the anomolies of the Voynich as the best potential footholds to it’s secrets.

So I got back to the image recently, and dug around for any references Bacon may have had in mind when he mentioned his swimming girdle. I wanted to know what he was envisioning when he thought of it, and of course, if it could in any way look like the f79r floating man. I found a book by one Daniel Schwenter, who in 1636 wrote Deliciæ Physic-Mathematicæ. In his book he describes many interesting inventions. Among them are the diving bell and fountain pen… but also, a “Schwimmgurtel”, or “swimming girdle”. Here is the illustration:

Early Swimming Aide... the "Girdle"

I would be the first to admit that it is not a great match to the odd device in f79r. For one thing, it is shown “unstrapped”, and would, in use, be wrapped around the person. But at the same time, it struck me that when I speculated on the Voynich illustration as being a swimming girdle, ala Bacon’s, I did not have a reasonable explanation for the two “pegs” standing upright from the device. Of course on the actual swimming girdle, it turns out there are upright parts, and they are filling tubes. The fact that they are there, and have a use on the real device, made me take new notice of the comparison I had made. I would have no explanation for the tubes continuing downward on the Voynich “version”, however, if that is what they are.

Schwenter was only copying a schwimmgurtel which was previously… I don’t know when… described by one “Frantz Rößlern”. A German friend of mine looked at the name as seen in the book:

…and he gave this input:

“I would read “Frantz Rößlern”, or, in a slightly more modern style, “Franz Rößlern” or “Rößlein”. First letter of the last name might indeed be a “K”, though I’d prefer “R”.”

So I don’t know who this is, but I would like to see his original version of his own device. And then, in the title page of Deliciæ Physic-Mathematicæ, Daniel Schwenter graciously confused the issue a bit by showing a swimmer with the same, or similar device:

Having Natatorial Fun 400 Years Ago

Where it appears they are either simply lying on the device, or perhaps they are using a different device, with two tubes or barrels strapped to either side of a swimmer. Or, conceivably, a long tube… much like a “noodle” used today… wrapped around the person’s stomach, and trailing off either side? I don’t know for sure.

So what we do have, though, is a person floating against, or on, some device, in the Voynich, with one arm hooked around a standing peg or tube. And we find that the type of swimming girdle as would have been known to Bacon, would have been a long, inflated set of bags, with tubes. I do not think it inconceivable that an artist representing such a device to illustrate it, loosely as is the habit of the Voynich artist in any other case, would not do so as shown on f79r. This, especially, if they only saw the image Bacon saw… the Schwenter one… and didn’t realize it was being shown unstrapped, and extended. This is obviously not a slam-dunk case, but it does make me hold the comparison in higher regard than I did before I saw a real swimming girdle.

As one last, interesting exercise… imagine for a moment, the f79r man straddling an actual, 16th or 17th century swimming girdle, one of the type most likely in the mind of the author of the New Atlantis at the time it was written:

Just Messing Around (I think)

Well that certainly is a stretch. Isn’t it? H. Richard SantaColoma

Daniel Schwenter

Another Path to Prague

The Queen of Bohemia

One of the often recurring tenets of the ingrained Voynich Manuscript provenance is that the famous book was sold by John Dee, about 1586, for 600 ducats, to Rudolf II of Prague. The evidence used to support this is mostly found in the 1665 Marci to Kircher letter, combined with the interests and movements of Dee. Dee arrived in the court of Elizabeth in the late 16th century. Also, Dee’s son relates in later years how his father owned a book of heiroglyphics which he could not translate. And this has been the basis of much of the accepted provenance of the manuscript.

But there are problems. First of all, the Marci letter really amounts to hearsay and speculation. Marci did not know for certain the story of the Voynich, and was only relating the information as he had been told, years earlier,

“Dr. Raphael, tutor in the Bohemian language to Ferdinand III, then King of Bohemia, told me the said book had belonged to the Emperor Rudolph and that he presented the bearer who brought him the book 600 ducats. He believed the author was Roger Bacon, the Englishman.”

Ferdinand III was made King of Bohemia in 1627, so the information from this tutor must have come after this, a full 15 years after the coup, and death, of Rudolf. It is also 7 years after the fall of Frederick V at the Battle of White Mountain, when the collections and libraries of Prague were confiscated, partly destroyed, and scattered. And then almost four decades elapsed before Marci recorded this in his letter to Kircher. Of course the Voynich itself was described by Georg Baresch in 1639, and then by Marci in an earlier letter of 1640.

Jan Hurych, a Voynich provenance researcher, wrote, “All in all, the story told by Raphael simple cannot be confirmed- and let’s not forget that even Marci told Kircher to make his own mind about it. And so should we . . .”

And I agree. We should make up our own mind about it. So basically we are left with the faded name of De Tepencz on f1r of the Voynich, a name which, if a signature, only allows the existance of the Voynich as late as 1620. Considering the shaky provenance before that, made up of second-hand rumor and speculation, combined with the fact that the book and it’s attached stories would have had to remain intact through the coup of Rudolf, and the fall of Prague… not once, but twice… This should make us question what has been taken as gospel, and realize that this book may have made it to Prague in ways previously unexamined.

The Winter King, Frederick V

In my research into the lives of my circle of people, I have often come back to the pivotal historical couple, the Princess Elizabeth, daughter of James I, and Frederick V, elector Palantine. The wedding of this couple in 1613 was greatly anticipated by the Protestant interests in Britain and Germany, and by Europe as a whole. It is believed that Andreae’s Chymical Wedding alludes to the real couple. The Tempest was performed for the ceremony, while some scholars believe the wedding mask was added for this reason. Some have even suggested that Shakespeare may have played his semi-autobiographical Prospero at this event. The post-wedding celebrations stretched over months, from London to Heidelburg, where Frederick had prepared English rooms to make his bride feel at home.

Heidelberg Castle, 1620

Francis Bacon cared for, and respected Elizabeth. He was one of her mentors. So it is not surprising that he continued a correspondence with her while she was in Heidelburg, and it is known that he sent her an inscribed copy of his Henry VII. And Sir Walter Raleigh gave her a copy of his History of the World. But the influences may go further than the sharing of these works. From Francis Yates’ “The Rosicrucian Enlightenment”, page 160:

“The reign of a daughter of the King of Great Britain in the Palatinate made communications easy between England and that part of Germany and led to an influx of English influences, amongst which should be included an influence from Bacon’s “Advancement”. We may speculate on how the influence may have been imported. BothFrederick and Elizabethwere readers and interested in intellectual movements. That they had books from England with them is proved by the fact that they took a copy of Raleigh’s History of the World withthem to Prague, where it fell into the hands of the conquerors, but eventually found its way back to London and the British Museum, where it now reposes. They are therefore likely to have had works by Bacon withthem at Heidelberg. We know that in later life Elizabeth was interested in the works of Bacon; in her early life before her marriage she would have known Bacon in England; he composed one of the entertainments for her wedding. Perhaps another transmitter of Baconian influence might have been Michael Maierwho was in close contact withEngland during the reign of Frederick and Elizabeth in the Palatinate. Maier transmitted works by early English alchemical writers to the German alchemical movement, and he may well have also carried books by Bacon to Germany. Maier was deeply interested in philosophical interpretation of mythology and that side of Bacon’s thought, expressed in his philosophical interpretation of myth in The Wisdom of the Ancients (1609), may well have had a fascination for Maier and his school.”

Yates was correct, Bacon did not only give Elizabeth a copy, but dedicated Henry VII to her brother. And from the letter included with the copy he sent her, this:

“Having written the reign of your majesty’s ancestor, King Henry VII, and it having passed the file of his majesty’s judgment, and been graciously also accepted of the Prince, your brother, to whom it is dedicate, I could not forget my duty so far to your excellent Majesty (to whom, for what I know and have heard, I have been at all times so much bounden as you are ever present with me in affection and admiration) as not to make unto you in all humbleness a present thereof, as now being able to give you tribute of any service. If King Henry VII were alive again, I hope verily he could not be so angry with me for not flattering his as well-pleased in seeing himself so truly in colours that will last and be believed.”

And these books exist, today. They found theirway from London to Heidelberg, then to Prague with Elizabeth. They were left behind withthe vast estates of the royal couple in their hasty retreat. From the 1938 “Elizabeth of Bohemia”, page 178:

“Before eight in the morning most of the luggage had been loaded upon a hundred and fifty-three waggons. Some of it was very heavy. Both the Majesties were great readers. A folio first edition of poor Sir Walter Raleigh’s History of the World was going to Prague. Another weighty coffer held all their gold plate…”

The footnote explains that this book was left behind in Prague, by the king and queen, when this wagon train was abandoned. Also in left behind was Frederick’s Order of the Garter, given him by his father in law. Frederick was later sometimes represented with a hanging sock by his enemies, representing his embarrassing loss. But the copy of the History of the World was returned to the family after Prague’s recapture in 1648. Likewise, the remaining book collections in Heidelberg (the famous Bibliotheca Palatina) were pillaged, and sent to Rome:

“The Palatinate suffered heavily in the Thirty Years War, and in 1622 Heidelberg was sacked by the Catholic League, whose leader Count von Tilly was in the employ of Maximilian of Bavaria. Although many books were torn or “dispersed among private hands” during the sack, Maximilian found it prudent to confiscate the remaining manuscripts and present them to Pope Gregory XV as “a sign of his loyalty and esteem”. The books were transported across the Alps to Rome on 200 mules under the supervision of scholar Leo Allatius.”

So there is no question that some books followed Elizabeth on her tragic path through history, and these and many others were left in Heidelberg and Prague. Keeping this in mind, and the fact that Bacon may have written his first drafts of The New Atlantis about this time, I wondered if he might have shared the concepts of this new work with Elizabeth. No such evidence, of course, yet exists that this is the case. I wrote to one of the editors of the upcoming work, Letters of a Stuart Princess. This book will attempt to coalesce all the correspondence of our Queen of Hearts in one place, and will take years to finish. I wrote to editor Nadine Akkerman, and asked if she had come across any any evidence, in the letters between Bacon and the Queen, of any discussion of the New Atlantis. She had not, as they were working on letters from later dates. But she did muse that,

“It indeed seems not unlikely that Bacon would have sent a manuscript version of the New Atlantis to Elizabeth.”

Ms. Akkerman means, of course, “if” such a thing as a manuscript existed, which we do not now know.

Since we know that Bacon and Raleigh shared interests, and books, with the young queen, I do also wonder if Bacon, or someone from his circle, may have given the Voynich to her. This could then be a path for the Voynich, from London to Prague. What would the victorious Catholic forces then make of it? They probably would never have thought of Elizabeth, and the retreating Protestants, as a possible source for such a bizarre and enigmatic work. Under the circumstances, it could be expected that Dr. Raphael and others would assume that the book must have belonged to Rudolf II, as it was just the sort of work he was known to delve in. Actually, just as most of the Voynich  investigations do to this day.

This speculative scenario would account for the confusion over the Voynichever since 1620… because while Elizabeth, now in exile in the Hague, would know what it was, and what it was for… the new regime in Prague would not have a clue. And they had no one left to ask. H. Rich SantaColoma

Dating the New Atlantis

Francis Bacon’s seminal science fiction work, The New Atlantis, was first published posthumously in 1627. Most of the analysis of this work has been of the content, purpose, and influences to it’s creation. It has usually been only an aside to the investigation to muse on the actual date Bacon began writing it. Of course this has been of great interest to me, considering I am looking at the possibility that the Voynich is an artifact from this very mythology, and the Voynich most likely predates the publication of the New Atlantis.

Francis Bacon: Where would you be without him?

So what dating evidence exists for the New Atlantis, prior to publication, and in “my” time frame? James Spedding, from Volume 5, The Works of Francis Bacon, notes, “The New Atlantis seems to have been written in 1624…” This is based on the statement by Bacon’s secretary, Rawley, “…but foreseeing it would be a long work, his desire of collecting the Natural History diverted him…”. And that does imply Bacon was working on the New Atlantis about 1624, but not that he began it… in practice or visualization of the concept… starting then. Even Spedding then adds…

“If the New Atlantis had been written in the earlier part of James’s reign, Bacon might have been suspected [of alluding to Salomona as James I]. He might have hoped to encourage James to justfy the parallel by going and doing likewise. But since James had now reigned [1624] above twenty years without doing or attempting to do anything for the furtherence of Natural Philosophy; without showing any interest in it or any taste or capacity for it; I cannot understand what the allusion can be or where the resemblance.”

In this we see Spedding had a reservation, which might have caused him pause with the 1624 assumption. How often do these yellow flags jump up in our line of sight, and we ignore them, for the sake of anchoring our beliefs in the safe, established, provable? The world of scholarship would disassemble itself if we ran with every unprovable doubt, and yet I applaud a Spedding or anyone, for noting them. As they accumulate over time, from many sources, or are matched with new revelations, these doubts may become part of a new understanding.

Countering the 1624 group, there has been an alternate view about the formation of the concept of The New Atlantis, based mostly on evidence in Bacon’s alluding to various concepts in the work. Catherine Drinker Bowen, in her 1963 Francis Bacon: The Temper of a Man, writes,

“Some time before 1618– we do not know exactly when– Bacon put aside The Great Instauration and sat down to try if he might draw men’s minds to his scheme by way of a simple tale, a fable, and allegory after the manner of that Utopia composed by another, earlier Lord Chancellor, Sir Thomas More. Bacon called his fable the New Atlantis.”

There are others. From the bibliography of Utopia and the Ideal Society, by J.C. Davis, we also have “‘1614-17′, S. R. Gardiner, ‘Francis Bacon’, Dictionary of National Biography; Fulton H. Anderson, Francis Bacon: His Career and His Thought (Los Angeles, Calif., 1962… …’Sometime after 1609′, Fulton H. Anderson, The Philosophy of Francis Bacon (Chicago, 1948), p. 24. On p. 42 of the same work Anderson dates New Atlantis in the period 1608-1620.” I found a copy of the last book,  and I was intrigued to find this little nugget:

“There is an earlier draft, however; and it may be concluded that the later period, indicated by Rawley, the author is attempting to put the original piece into shape for publication”.

An “earlier draft”? I’m sure that is speculative, from the same evidence as used by others. But I have to wonder at the phrasing nonetheless… which is within an otherwise unambiguous text. Did Mr. Anderson know something missed by others?

Davis concludes,”An intelligent compromise suggestion has been that Bacon first drafted the work in the period 1614-17 and revised it for publication in, or about, 1623.” So there is ample support placing the New Atlantis in my theory’s time frame of 1610 to 1620. Whether it was in the form of a manuscript circulating among my group, or in now-lost letters, or orally related, in person, by Bacon, we cannot yet know.

I do note that whatever the original condition of the mythology, it was certainly amended to the point we now know it, after 1620. Several of the inventions and concepts in it seem to imply this. For one, the inclusion of the submarine, which was tested on the Thames, with James I as a witness, by Cornelis Drebbel in 1620. The concept of the submarine pre-dates 1620, but the fact that Drebbel’s inventions figure so prominently in the New Atlantis, and that he was a familiar of Bacon, imply that some of these found their way into the work at this late date. But other evidence shows that certain ideas included in his fictional commonwealth go back quite far with Bacon. Some elements even to the late 16th century. Davis points out that,

“…the cardinal ideas of the work had engaged Bacon’s mind for a period of over thirty years of his life. In 1594, for the Christmas revels at Grays Inn, he composed a number of speeches as part of a masque in which counsellors addressed a mock monarch. The second counsellor advised the study of philosophy and commended four principal works or monuments. The first was ‘the collecting of a most perfect and general library, wherein whatsoever the wit of man hath heretofore committed to books of worth by they ancient or modern, printed or manuscript, European or other parts, of one or other language, may be made contributory to your wisdom’. Second, came a garden of all plants, a collection of all rare beasts and birds, and two lakes, one of salt water and the other of fresh: ‘in small compass a model of universal nature made private’. Next was a goodly huge cabinet, wherein whatsoever the hand of many by exquisite art or engine hath made rare in stuff, form or motion; whatsoever singularly chance and the shuffle of things hath produced; whatsoever Nature hath wrought in things that want life and may be kept; shall be sorted and included’. The last of the four works was the construction of ’such a stillhouse, so furnished with mills, instruments, furnaces and vessels, as may be a palace fit for a philosopher’s stone’.”

As Davis rightly concludes, “The parallels between these four works or monuments and the ‘Preparations and Instruments’ of Salomon’s House are too obvious to require much comment”. He also steers us to Bacon’s address of the Fifth Counsellor, wherein he relates various hopes for government reform and education… all very “utopian”, ala New Atlantis. And then, in his July 26, 1608 notes, “Foundac. of a college for Inventors. 2 Galeries wth statuas or bases for Inventors to come. And a Library and an Inginary.” As Davis makes clear, and I agree, the model of New Atlantis was “prefigured”.

Top of the Harlien Charter

So at this juncture, perhaps we can safely revisit an old controversy. What I am referring to is a mysterious parchment document which purports to be Bacon’s advice to one Thomas Bushell, along with an address to Parliament relating to mining operations. It mentions, twice, The New Atlantis. When it was found, in the 19th century, it was originally believed to be evidence that the concept of Salomon’s House and the NA was in formation with Bacon between 1614 and 1617. This because of the way Bacon is referred to on the document. As I wrote to the VMs list last year, “The reference (in Held’s book on Andreae’s Christianopolis) explains how the Harley Charter was found in the nineteenth century, and which refers to the New Atlantis twice. It is dated to 1614/17 by various references within it, including one (apparently) to Bacon’s position. But later, in the early 20th century, another scholar dismissed the charter as a forgery by Thomas Bushell, and claims it is much later, and one is welcome to accept this opinion.” But from everything I have seen on this subject, I can’t help but wonder if the 1624 argument is a chicken/egg thing, in this way: We “know” the New Atlantis was written no earlier than 1623, because his own secretary implies this, therefore this Harley document must be a forgery. Added to this is the questionable reputation of the smooth tongued and debt-ridden Bushell.

One of two references to the New Atlantis, circa 1614/17

As an interesting aside, the colorful Mr. Bushell, after Bacon’s downfall, secreted himself in a cave on an island for three years. He was concerned it seems, that he would “catch some Hell” for his association with the great man. Later he crawled (swam?) back to Britain, and reinvented himself, with much the same mixture of the nefarious and brilliant tactics he was made of. Back in Oxfordshire, he built a complex of automatic fountains and automatic musical instruments, along with a unique crystal outcropping he discovered while digging a cave. These became quite famous after about 1628. Charles II and the queen visited twice. He meanwhile had some success in various mining operations.

Thomas Bushell's Oxfordshire Fountains

So we do not have, and depressingly may never have, a manuscript of The New Atlantis. I can only imagine what tremendous insights we would garner, if we could only see the corrections and changes made over the long time he (apparently) constructed his mythology. Now we are left with peeking backwards into the shadows of his thought process, by connecting a myriad of related concepts. For the time being, I think it is quite plausible that the people of my circle may have been privy to the ideas of the New Atlantis, as Bacon was constructing it in writing or orally, and clearly during the time I suspect the Voynich was actually created. H. Richard SantaColoma

The Chymical Wedding: Parallel Work?

The 1616 book, The Chymical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz, is the third of the first three defining works of the Rosicrucian movement. It describes the progression of the fictional Rosenkreutz through a series of allegorical events, while encountering fantastic people, finding mysterious cipher writings, and witnessing bizarre, surreal scenarios in which Rosenkreutz was often an unwitting participant. These events explored, through allegory, various political, religious and ethical questions. At the same time, they symbolically reflected various alchemical processes… not all of which are entirely clear to us today. To better understand this entertaining work, I would recommend the 1991 Phanes Press edition, translated by Joscelyn Godwin, with excellent commentary by Adam Mclean.

Although printed in 1616 for the first time, The Chymical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz was actually written sometime after 1605 by Johannes Andreae. What most interests me is that, although openly published in 1616, it was released under the premise that it took place, and was written, in 1459. It can be accurately described as a fantasy book, written between 1605 and 1616, pretending to be over 150 years older than it was, using cipher to enhance it’s aura of mysterious, ancient lore. I came across the Chymical Wedding while researching the Rosicrucician connections of the people of my circle of interest, and was surprised just how immersed in this world they were. I do not hold stock in the premise that Francis Bacon was a leader of the movement (nor, of course, the discredited claims he was Shakepeare, for that matter… I am firmly a Stratfordian on that issue), but there is no doubt his works reflected some of the tenets of Rosicrucianism. In fact the work in question, The New Atlantis, reflects several principles, and some of the iconography, of that philosophy.

So of course I was doubly surprised to find that one of this circle, Andreae, was not only a follower of the tenets of the movement, but also claimed to be a writer of one of the chief documents. Years later, Andreae referred to this work as a “ludibrium” of his youth. A controversial statement which has been interpreted in several different ways. I won’t go into all of them here. To learn more about Andreae and Bacon’s possible roles and motivations relating to Rosicrucianism, do not miss reading Francis Yates’ The Rosicruician Enlightenment.

And then, like Bacon, Andreae wrote his own utopia, Christianopolis. And also, like Bacon, he was very interested in the workings of cipher, and used it as a vehicle in his Wedding, to reinforce the aura of secret and important lost works. Of course Bacon used the premise of mysterious writing in his New Atlantis for much the same purpose. In Andreae’s case, he was in contact with Duke August of Bruswick-Luneberg, the self-titled Selenus. From a description of the 1649 collection of Andreae’s writings, Seleniana Augustalia:

“…contains Andreae’s remarkable and important correspondence with the house of Brunswick-Luneberg; that is with Duke August, the three sons and the daughter, [Rudolf August, Anton Ulrich and Ferdinand Albert and the princess Sibylle Ursula whose portraits grace this volume]. Included is Andreae’s poem (Lemmata Sacra). A variety of humanist subjects are discussed, history, art, cryptography, utopianism, the ‘Societas Christianae’, etc.”

Selenus was another remarkable person, in a vast ocean of such remarkable men and woman from this very intellectually rich moment in history, who seems to have influenced almost everything we know today in some profound way: from industry to religion to politics to gaming. The Duke needs his own forum for a proper showing, but for the purposes of this blog, and this investigation, suffice it to say he wrote on, and expanded, the knowledge of cipher in surprising ways. I have one of his adapted codes as a suspect for a Voynich code, and I will write on that shortly.

One Cipher From The Chymical Wedding

But for the time being, note that Andreae was fairly immersed in cipher, in Rosicrucianism (if not it’s true originator, at least, one of them), in the premise of utopia, and knew the powerful and valuable impact the aura of ancient mysteries had in pursuading people to look to his works for answers to a myriad of problems of religion, and of “science” and society. Whether or not a “ludibrium”, the works of the RC movement did draw believers, and followers, and many throughout Europe looked hopefully for the invisible disciples of the Invisible College. And, I propose, the Voynich Manuscript could be one more document of this type, also filled with cipher, meant to look older than it was, and meant to look mysterious and alien to the European circle hungry for such productions. A book such as this, a tome from the fictional island of Bensalem, would be a near parallel in intent and execution… although, so far, unreadable… to the known contemporary example, The Chymical Wedding.

Thomas Harriot, Algonquian, and Optics

Thomas Harriot certainly comes under the category of “People whom History Forgot”, right alongside Cornelis Drebbel. The problem in both cases is that much of their life works were destroyed or lost, before ever being published. Just we don’t know the workings of Drebbel’s perpetual clocks, or his advanced methods of lens grinding, we can’t know the full extent of the genius behind Harriot’s discoveries in astronomy, optics, mathematics, and Native American languages. But from what I have learned, he is very close to the influences and circle I suspect was behind the creation of the Voynich Manuscript.

Thomas Harriot was on Sir Walter Raleigh’s first expedition of 1594, and studied… well, everything “over here”, including the Algonquin language. He found that he could not transcribe the sounds of the language using our Latin alphabet, so he made a new phonetic one. Here is an interesting passage from “Big Chief Elizabeth: The Adventures and Fate of the First English Colonists”:

“Harriot’s resultant alphabet had thirty-six characters in total and looked extraordinary_ a hodgepodge of algebraic symbols, Greek and Roman letters, invented characters. One scholar described the letters as looking “like devills,” perhaps because some ended in forked tridents. The shape of the letters provided a clue as to how they should be pronounced. English equivalents were recorded alongside where applicable, while sounds that were unfamiliar were categorised as “barbarouse wordes” and placed in a separate column. Harriot tested his alphabet on English phrases, putting passages of the Lord’s Prayer into his new script to see whether they were readable. The alphabet was a work of unparalleled creativity- one that had required the logic of a scientist and the imagination of an artist” It successfully represented every sound of this complex language.”

Portion of Thomas Harriot's Algonquian Alphabet

Note not only the many “Voynichy” characters, but the repetitive nature of them, and the small distinctions… with major import… but nonetheless small. Here is a full image of the page. Now Imagine a book of those suckers, with no clues to tell us what they were, where or when they came, and what language they represented? We would be as lost, I am certain, as we are with the Voynich Manuscript. There were such books written in this script, but they burned in the Great London Fire.

As I pointed out, Harriot has been under-appreciated to history, because he did not get much of his work published. Many notes were found in the 1980’s, including the alphabet page. But also of interest… well, to me… is that he was apparently an early experimenter with optics, and quite good at it. At least one reference I saw had him making the first telescope in England. It was very good device, and allowed him to make very good sketches of the moon, and sunspots, about the time Galileo is credited with both.

“The Italian philosopher [Galileo] is credited with the feat in December 1609. But papers at the West Sussex Record Office show that Harriot drew images of the Moon several months earlier.” -Christine McGourty, BBC article, ‘English Galileo’ Maps on Display

Thomas Harriot's Moon Map: pre-Galileo's

Harriot also influenced Francis Bacon, and was friends with Kepler at the time Kepler was in Prague, next to Drebbel. It is also of interest because he was on the Raleigh expedition alongside Joachim Gaunse, the man it is believed the New Atlantis’ Joabim is based on; and alongside one David Gans, who is believed related to Joachim Gaunse (Gans), and whom was with Kepler, Drebbel, and Harriot, in Prague. Of course this goes to the very influences and people whom I feel could be responsible for the Voynich. In Harriot’s work, you have alternate languages and characters, Native American influences, advanced optics, influences on Francis Bacon and his New Atlantis… all by a man who rubbed elbows with the “real” Joabim, Johannes Kepler, and Cornelis Drebbel. This is the very stew from which I believe the Voynich may have formed, and at the best time for it to have done so. H.R. SantaColoma

Addendum, July 4, 2009:

I came across another connection in my circle of interest, while looking up references to Algonquian. In addition to Harriot and others, one William Strachey also compiled a list of Algonquian words and phrases. His list was a full 500 long. He wrote of his accounts in the New World, including the book, “The Historie of Travaile into Virginia Britannia“*. Strachey was a rich source of information on Native Americans, their language and culture. Today his writings are invaluable to learning of the layout and functions of the original Jamestown town and fort, because he gave such detailed descriptions.

But then there is a very curious “cross connection” to Shakespeare. It turns out that William Strachey’s description of the wreck of the Sea Venture on July 24, 1609, is almost universally considered source material for Shakespeare’s account of the wreck in The Tempest. Also, the mysterious magical nature of Prospero and Miranda’s isle is considered based in part on Strachey’s descriptions of Bermuda, where he was wrecked.

Again, I find parallel influences: Both in those whom I suspect influenced the Voynich Manuscript, and also, those known, historically, to have influenced the people of my circle of interest. The expeditions of Raleigh, the ships which supplied them, the people who manned them, all influenced, in some cases directly, both Bacon’s New Atlantis and Shakepeare’s The Tempest.

*One manuscript copy of which was dedicated to Francis Bacon (!).