Numerical Coding of Word Sections

Imagine for a moment a code which allows an encoder to make random, infinite choices when encoding, but which can only be decoded one way… into one, clear plain-text… at the receiver’s end. The interim coded text would represent the same characters and words in multiple ways, so that any attempt at decipherment, by trying to make a count on the elements, and compare them to various plain texts in various languages, would fail.

August II, Duke of Brunswick-Lüneburg

There is at least one system I know of, which has this ability, and which at the same time is easy and fast to encode and decode. This is the numerical coding system which appears in the 1624 Gustavus Selenus Book, “Cryptomenytices et Cryptographiae”. Gustavus Selenus is the playful Latinized psuedonym of August II, Duke of Brunswick-Luneburg. He used the root “selene” (goddess of the moon) for his name, because of the “moon-root” in the name of his dukedom, and “Gustavus” being an anagram of “Augustus”.  He wrote this book on cipher, and a book on chess, under this pseudonym. Cryptomenytices is a compilation of dozens of codes and ciphers, with detailed explanations and examples. Many of them are from the work of Trithemius, or based on his it. But many of the systems are unique to Cryptomenytices, or adaptations of previous work of others, with improvements and additions.

The code with which this post is concerned with is found on page 360, in book seven of this work. I do not read much Latin, but from what I can deduce from the preface, this code is partially based on, or refers to work by, one Jacobus Silvestri. This man wrote a work on cipher and codes in the early 16th century, and is surprisingly little documented or discussed. In fact the only copy of his book I could find is in the NSA library.  I have a copy of this code, and so can understand that it is familial to the code on page 360 of Cryptomenytices. But the page 360 code is much more elaborate and ingenious, and expounds beyond the simple points of Silvestri.

The code works like this: Both the sender and receiver have a code chart, which assigns progressing numbers to first letters, then to combinations of letters. “A” is simply “1″. “B is simply “6″. These can be written as either an Arabic 1 & 6, or Roman “I” and “VI”, or of course, any way one would like.

After the single letters, the code moves on to numbering “consonants before vowels”… starting with “BA” (which is 22 on the code chart). So let’s stop here, and examine the letter string “BA” encoded. When the encoder comes across “BA”, they have a choice: They can simply write it as “22″, in which case the receiver looks up “22″ on the chart (which is laid out very clearly, and in order, and so all numbers are quick and easy to find). They immediately know it is “BA” in the plain text. But the encoder had a second choice… they could have used the numerical codes for the B and A separately, and so written it as 6-1. Again, the decoder looks up 6 & 1 on the chart, and again, knows it is the plain text BA. But the choice of encoding means that BA can appear in two different ways in the coded text, confusing any character counts. Even if the numbers where suspected, and even if they were known, how would an investigator relate 22 and 6-1? And if they determined that “E” was “2″ (which it is in this code), then they may think 22 is EE, and not BA.

214/213= "Intent", because "int"=214, & "ent"=213

But this is a simple case. The code allows many more variables, as the plain text increases in complexity. For after “vowels after consonants” comes “vowels preceding consonants”, such as AB, AC, and so on. Then strings of three: “vowels preceding two consonants”, such as ABS and so on. The list goes like this:

1. Individual vowels.
2. Individual consonants.
3. One vowel after one consonant.
4. One vowel before one consonant.
5. One vowel before two consonants.
6. Two consonants before one vowel.
7. One consonent before and after one vowel (3 letters)

All of these combinations are shown in alphabetical order, so an encoder can quickly look up their chosen string of letters. The list is numbered from 1 (for “A”) to 1,521 (for “ZUT”).  The encoder takes their strings, looks them up on the  chart, and writes down their number value. Elmar Vogt coined the word “chunk” for these strings of letters, as they do not have to follow syllabic or phonetic breaks… they can be chosen at the whim of the encoder.

So let’s look at a sentence, and the choices and the results of encoding it with this system. I previously used “I am here” as an example for the biliteral, so I’ll stick with that as a control. One choice for an encoder might be to break this up: I-AM-HE-RE. Looking the numbers for these chunks on the code list, we have: 3-147-48-83. But if broken down as IA-M-HER-E, it would change drastically: 257-13-808-2. Do you see the problem for someone out of the loop, who is trying to decode a text? They are presented with 3-147-48-83 and 257-13-808-2, and would have absolutely no way to relate the two. The counts of individual numerals would not make any sense of it. But to a receiver of the code, it is a simple matter of running their finger down the code list, and substuting the number strings with the appropriate word chunk. In either case it is fast and easy, and the plain text absolutely unambiguous. Not subjective, no anagramming involved, no choices on the decoders part at all.

As for the breaks between the number strings, as Selenus points out, these can be written different ways. One choice is nulls, such as “+’s”. The use of crosses such as this a common Christian habit in the past, to emphasize text. But any null could work. Our code string might be 3a147b48c83, or if Roman, IIIaCXLVIIbXLVIIIcLXXXIII, and so on. There can be one null, multiple nulls, spaces for nulls. In any case it would not confuse or complicate the system for either the encoder or decoder.

I consider it a top contender for the code in the Voynich Manuscript.  For one thing, as I explained, it would frustrate counting attempts, as the counts of individual characters would bear little or no relationship with the plain text. Also, as I understand it, the Voynich character frequencies do roughly coincide with what one would expect with a core of the numbers 1 through 9, plus some nulls. I’ve seen this core, frequent, count as 17 in at least one case, although there are of course a smattering of rare characters, bringing the total to several time this. But these could easily be accounted for as shorthand or some other symbolic representations. And the often occurring “9″ tail character, which was popularly a plural suffix (in Latin shorthand, and also Middle and Old Dutch), would make sense both in frequency and placement, in such a scheme. I also like the fact that is would help explain the large number of recurring Voyichese “words”, as any plain text, in any language, can be broken down into often repeating parts. For instance look at this paragraph, and count the number of times “ER” appears… and “AN”, and so on. And lastly, look at the well-discussed “key page” notation, with crosses, and almost-Roman numerals in part:

And compare it to this, as an example from the Selenus code:

Although I feel it is possible to use the Voynich characters to encode with this method, I did look into the possibility that there were complications which could account for some other Voynichese features. I experimented with those to some extent. For one, I had wondered if the gallows could be a “modifier” or “multiplyer” of some kind, for the larger numbers in the code. Here is an example of this, from my notes:

As you see, it explores the “what if” the gallows, in two variations, were 1,000 and 100 multipliers for a character (enciphered number) just before. This would help write out some of the larger numbers in different ways. But it is just part of the process of trying out the system, and does not imply that this complication is favored by me.

I do feel that “working backward” would be a valuable way to explore the Voynich code/cipher. I do feel that with some work, it would be possible to encode in Voynichese with this numerical system, and have actually succeded in a small way, in the limited time I applied to it. I explained my ideas to Julian Bunn, and he was working with the idea for a time. He wrote a clever conversion program, and was able to encode some very impressive sections with the method. Below is the text from Francis Bacon’s New Atlantis, “…we have also glasses and means to see small and minute bodies, perfectly and distinctly; as the shapes and colors of small flies and worms, grains, and flaws in gems which cannot otherwise be seen.”, encoded by Julian in Gabriel Landini’s Voynich 101 font:

Well of course this would not follow the same patterns or counts found in the Voynich, but that was not the point at that stage. It was an exercise to discover if this Selenus code variation could encode in Voynich characters. It can. Almost any code or cipher can, really. But after that, one has a starting point, to see how the resulting Voynich-like strings are affected by various choices in the numbering lists, plain text content, breakdown of plain text, and so on. The point would be to see if strings of Voynichese, with the same resulting character and word counts, and other patterns, could be generated with this system or variation of it, while containing meaningful plain text. And this of course would be the next step, applying the necessary time and effort to do so, and answer the question.

Selenus in His Library-"oh to be a fly on the wall"

Falsifiable, Provable, Probable?

The scientific concept of falsifiability, as proposed by Karl Popper, has been suggested to me in the past, as a way to test the validity of this theory. At first I did not fully understand it, and if I understand it now, it is in layman’s terms. But the basic premise of falsifiability is that if a theory, hypothesis, or proposition cannot state the criterion by which it can be shown false, then it is unscientific. An example of a falsifiable statement used in Wikipedia is “All swans are white”, because it would be shown false by finding a non-white swan.

I suppose a good example of unfalsifiable claims would be religious and artistic, which of course make no such claims of being “true” in a scientific sense, and rely solely on faith… the faith of belief and/or the subjectivity of emotion. But if we think of various conspiracy theories, it quickly becomes clear that include a great deal of self-protection against falsifiability. If you have a theory which includes events not supported by the evidence, but also not assailable by it, or assailable even by any evidence which could be found, then it seems at first to be immune, and therefore, plausible. For instance, how do you “prove” there was not a second gunman? The statement can be made that there was one, with little or no evidence, and then it is impossible to prove they did not exist. But any theory is unscientific when it claims that it is true only because it has not been, or cannot be, dis-proven.

I have been asked a few times about the falsifiability of my New Atlantis/Voynich theory. At first I did not understand the purpose or meaning of the concept, and thought the questioner was asking me to “prove it wrong to prove it right”. But I was recently asked again, which caused me to think about it, again. I think that it is probably a concept which everyone deals with, internally, but it only has value when accepting it’s importance, and in discussing and accepting it openly. So when asked what evidence would convince me my theory was probably wrong, I came up with these:

1) If the C14 dating shows a pre-1550, or post-1639 dating of the vellum.

Although it is possible, and has been done, it is far less likely that an  1610-1620 author of a fictional book would have sought or used vellum over 60 or 70 years old. Vellum, as I have discussed in the past, was readily available, and commonly used… new… at the time my theory proposes. I would therefore consider a dating of before about 1550 as proof my theory was most likely incorrect. If pre-1460, then it would become very implausible, as the bulk of Voynich theories would in the right time frame, and much more likely than this one.

If post-1639 dating is shown, then this is not the document referred to by Marci in his letter, and not created by my people, in my time, for the purposes I theorize.

2) If a very similar document from another time was found.

The unique nature of the Voynich makes it an orphan of time. I know that others claim it looks enough like items from some specific time or another to prove it is from that era, but also it is acknowledged it is really unique enough in many ways to possibly be a singularity. I concur with the latter view. So if something other than the Voynich, but obviously from the same source or authorship, was found, and could be decisively dated from a time frame well outside my theory… it would disprove it.

3) If the VMs characters were found elsewhere.

There are of course a smattering of individual Voynich-like characters throughout history, their appearance blanketing the supposed time frames of many theories. But if there was a near complete set of the same characters found, used, even in a somewhat dissimilar document (as opposed to the case in #2, above), and it was from another time, it may disprove my theory. I have to add I’m trying to be open minded here… because there are qualifications. For instance, I am now typing in much the same characters which Shakespeare used, which does not disprove the time frame of Shakespeare’s works. But if there were a near-complete set of Voynichese used well outside the time and influence of my theory, it would… as they are not generally, otherwise, used… it would falsify a premise of my theory: That the characters are created for the Voynich, as an artifact of the New Atlantis, to create a unique and mysterious aura of “lost and forgotten lore”.

4) If a reference is found, clearly showing the Voynich’s existence in some other time frame.

If a mention were found, clearly describing the Voynich itself long before, or even, soon after, my theory’s time frame, this would falsify it. So far there is no evidence it was owned by Rudolf II in his lifetime, only rumor related in a much later letter. John Dee’s son makes some reference to a book of hieroglyphics that his father owned, but there are inconsistencies with the Voynich in the description. However, if a verifiable quote or reference (receipt, ledger entry, etc.) which supported these, or other such claims, or clearly described the Voynich in some other context, before my time frame, it would of course show the theory to be wrong.

5) An acceptable translation of the Voynich, which shows the manuscript to have a purpose or origin other than my theory.

That one is self-explanatory. This is of course the Holy Grail of Voynich proofs, for everyone.

Exceptions:

I will mention here that I don’t ascribe much to probabilities as evidence to falsify, or conversely, to prove much, in the case of the Voynich. I would say it this way, “Probability does not apply to unique cases, and the Voynich has the appearance of a unique case”. Using subjective opinion some claim it is not unique, and give other examples of herbals, pharmas, astrologicals, alchemal herbals, astronomicals, and so on, which have some similar styles and elements. And so, for instance, if it has similar elements, to mid-15th century herbals, then it is claimed that it is “more probable” that it is a 15th century herbal. But then, conversely, it is claimed the Voynich must be a unique herbal, with many elements which fit no other. So often I find that similarities are used to promote high probability, then differences used to explain… well… that it is really very different. But I believe the Voynich is unique, and so outside the realm of probabilities based on similarities. But another problem is “how much” or “how little” the Voynich looks like this or that other type of work. Based on the level of acceptance of the observer, the probabilities can and do skew in many different directions.

Another claim to the falsity of my theory, which I do not include on my list, are claims that the style of the Voynich is earlier looking than my time frame. That would be in the art, writing, numbering, dress, and so on. But the existence of earlier styles does not prove an early existence, any more than an early, reproduction of a costume in a 1604 or 2009 stage performance proves it really took place in, say, 100 AD. Is it “more probable” that an author would use only the style of writing in their time frame, and not be mimicking an earlier style? Maybe it is more probable (see above)… but replicating earlier styles is and has been done in innumerable cases in literature and art, so it does not constitute proof of earlier existence. Anyway, this theory contends the early look of much of the Voynich is intentional, so in fact it is one of my claimed supporting arguments to find multiple early styles.

What would prove the theory?

An acceptable translation, which fits the theory, for one. Or a clear, verifiable reference to the Voynich as the theory describes it. The upcoming dating results, if they show a time frame of about 1550 to 1620 will strongly support my theory (and the very few others in the same time-frame), and at the same time, obviate the bulk of previous assumptions. But it would not, in and of itself, prove mine. However, if the DNA of the vellum used by others in my circle matched the Voynich, then I would say, combined with concurrent, favorable dating, that this would be a proof. I would suggest DNA, in fact, if the dating matches my theory. Other than these possibilities, I think, it remains an arguable theory, as all Voynich theories are.

I’m sure other items of falsification can be added to my list, and I will be glad to hear them. If the list is short to begin with, I hope it is because of the very enigmatic and indiscernible nature of the Voynich, and due not to any rationalization on my part.

Biliteral: A Cipher in Plain Sight?

There has been a bit of talk, again, about the possibility of Francis Bacon’s Biliteral Cipher being used in the Voynich. It is one of my personal top-three candidates, and has been… and it’s been a favorite of mine for some reasons unique to my New Atlantis Theory. In fact those things which are considered detriments… the dating it would imply, and the origins and influence… I consider additional assets.

Bacon devised his cipher sometime in the late sixteenth century, but it first appeared in print in the early seventeenth. It is basically a binary alphabet, using only two characters. He designated these “a” and “b”… which sometimes causes confusion as to the structure and use of this cipher. I’ve seen people actually use those letters, or look for them, or alternately use the Biliteral, while not using it when an a or b appears in the plain text… but the cipher character or character distinction in its place. But the system is the simplest of all, and these errors muddle this simplicity, and cause further misunderstandings and confusion.

The way the code works is like this: Each letter of the plain text alphabet is represented by a series of five characters. These characters are designated as either “a” or “b” characters. The first letter of the alphabet, A, is written like this: aaaaa. The plaintext letter B is written like this: aaaab. The plaintext C is written like this: aaaba. You see it is exactly the progression found in the binary number system. D is written like aaabb, and E like aabaa, and so on. Here is the list as published:

The message: “I am here” would be written:

abaaa aaaaa ababb aabbb aabaa baaaa aabaa

Now it is immediately apparent that simply sending a message in this way is not the point… it is instantly recognizable. This is where the beauty of the cipher comes in: The encipherer can chose any way imaginable to represent the a’s and b’s of the cipher text. Bacon used, as an example, two different typefaces. And this is another point where many make an error in understanding the biliteral: It is assumed that it relies on variations in typefaces, fonts or strokes. But this is not the point of the cipher… one can use any variation in the cover text to designate the a’s and b’s of the cipher text. In fact the cover text does not even have to be characters… they could be illustrations, or color variations. Here is my plain text, “I am here”, written as stars:

"I am here", written in the stars...

The stars have two distinctions: five point stars as the “a’s”, and six point stars as “b’s”. But there is a further issue which often crops up, which causes misunderstanding of the biliteral. The fact is that two distinctions are used in encoding, such as my star points, or standard and italic fonts, or serifs and sans-serif typefaces… but somehow when some are looking for evidence of the biliteral, they sometimes look for two frequent characters which re-occur. In the case of the Voynich for instance, one may look for “o’s” and “gallows”, assume these to be the a’s and b’s, and pull them out. But this misses the value of the biliteral… it can be some aspect of the characters which is in all the characters. I have been most interested in the differentiation in height, for instance. This is a large distinction in the Voynich, easily determined, and applies to all of the characters. What the character is would not matter, only that it is high or low. I like the idea, because it would be very easy to encipher and decipher… a decipherer could quickly run along the text of the Voynich and jot down the value for highs and lows… I’ve done it, and it is fast.

And this is one of the key reasons I like the biliteral in the Voynich, it’s ease. In addition to this, however, is the fact that it would answer many questions about the bulk of the text, with its seeming complexity. Some have suspected that the Voynich contains gibberish, that it’s cipher is meaningless. And this could be correct about the bulk of the text content, in the case of the biliteral… because there is one more error made in thinking of this code: That the cover text needs to be meaningful, in order to “throw off” anyone from suspecting that there is a code somewhere. Well yes, this is a tactic in some biliteral messages… Bacon used it as an example, and prisoner’s today still use the biliteral to transmit messages to one another. If a guard sees a message which says, “Did you get the cigarettes I paid for last week? Better hurry or I will take back my teddy bear”, he will not mind all that much, and may not notice that there is a code hidden in the two slightly different fonts used.

But as I demonstrated in my stars example, no meaning is needed in the cover text. And the same applies when it “almost just about looks like there must be some meaning there”… as in Voynichese. As I wrote on Nick Pelling’s blog, the seeming complexity of a fake, meaningless cover cipher of Voynichese, “…could be “there to confuse us”… useless complexity would be a fantastic, brilliantly diabolical cover for a simple cipher, and really very easy to do (not to see, however).”

So I feel the use of the biliteral would explain so much about our views and examination of the text of the Voynich: The inability to make any sense of it, for one thing, because there would not necessarily be any sense in the cover cipher; the concurrent feeling that there must be some sense to the Voynich Ms., causing an unfortunate rift between the proponents of sense and those thinking “nonsense”… both could be correct. And for those who rightly note that the biliteral would mean that there is only one-fifth of the characters in the plain text (there always is, with a five place biliteral), I would, and have, pointed out that we cannot assume the amount of information in the Voynich. It may well be one fifth of what is seen on the surface… for that matter, it could be a two hundred character sentence, with one page per plain text letter! To make assumptions about the level of content would be foundationless, and yet, the biliteral would allow quite a bit to remain.

I worked many hours on the cipher and the Voynich, and came up with some interesting observations. I cannot “read” any of it, so I cannot place myself in that rare, hallowed circle who think they can. But nonetheless I found some results somewhat promising… promising enough to continue when I have the time and patience. To begin with I used four different variables, and reduced the Voynichese four times using them, for comparison. The two main variables were: 1) All high characters were my a’s, and all lows my b’s, and 2) Reversed: All high characters were my b’s, and all lows my a’s. The second set of variables were: 3) All connected characters were considered separate, i.e., a string of three “c’s” was three low characters, and 4) A string of connected characters was considered one character, so that the same three “c’s” would be one low character.

Using the above four choices (and there are, of course, many more which may be tried), back in September of 2007, I wrote that I had, “…come up with some strings of letters… “POL…” was one which occurred. And “QUO…” also.”. But these sort of strings are in themselves possibly meaningless… well are meaningless, unless one can place them in some context. But what really struck me was that for certain combinations of my four variables, I came up with many useless strings, and for others, many more useful strings. By “useless”, I mean the strings did not correlate to any letters in the biliteral alphabet, as Bacon envisioned.” I later explained [with error corrected for this post]:

“I’ll tell you what I did, looking at f106, line 13 as an example:

1) Treating each character, even connected ones, as separate chars, and “A” as lower, and “B” as upper (the slash is before two from the next line, to
even out the group to five):

BAAAA ABAAA BABAB AAABA AABBA AAAAA BAAAA BAAAA BABAB BAABA BAB/AA

Which gives: RIXCGARRXTW

2) Treating connected chars as singles, but still with “A” as lower, and “B” as upper:

BAAAB BAABA BABAA AABAA ABBAA AAABA AABAA BABAB BAABA BAA/AA

Which gives: STWENCEWTR

3) Now with each char as separate, but “B” as lower, and “A” as upper:

ABBBB BABBB ABABA BBBAB BBAAB BBBBB ABBBB ABBBB ABABA ABBAB ABABB

Which gives: QZL???QQLOM    You see? Three chars now do not work for any letter.

4) Treating connected chars as singles, again (as in #2), but with “B” as lower, and “A” as upper:

ABBBA ABBAB ABABB BBABB BAABB BBBAB BBABB ABABA ABBAB ABBBB

Which gives POM? U/W ??LOQ  …and again, three chars fall “off the list”.

The point being, for the last two choices of variables, I had a much higher number of characters which did not correlate to the biliteral alphabet. A red herring? Perhaps. But all this recent resurgent talk fo the Biliteral has inspired me to get back to it. And again, considering that I am looking at the Voynich as a possible artifact of Bacon’s New Atlantis, and that he invented the Biliteral Cipher, and that both were known and used by the early 17th century, it certainly holds a special place of consideration for me.

"I am here", in biliteral Voynichese

All this being said, I feel there are at least two other code and cipher concepts which would also account for the seeming complexity of Voynichese, while being extremely hard to discern, and yet, surprisingly easy and fast to encipher and decipher. Like the biliteral, in my opinion, and just as rarely considered possible.

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