Cryptography: Calligraphic conundrum
In a Connecticut archive sits a manuscript justifiably called the most mysterious in the world. Since its rediscovery more than a century ago, the Voynich manuscript has been puzzled over by experts ranging from leading US military cryptographer William Friedman to cautious (and incautious) humanities scholars. Since 1969, it has been stored in Yale University's Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library in New Haven. The fine calligraphy of the 234 page 'MS 408' apparently alphabetic, has never been decoded. Copious illustrations of bathing women, semi recognizable plants and apparent star maps remain undeciphered. No one knows who created it or where, and there is no reliable history of ownership. Its parchment was radiocarbon dated in 2009 to between 1404 and 1438, with 95% probability. The manuscript could still be a forgery using medieval parchment, but most experts, including Yale's, are convinced it is genuine. Now The Voynich Manuscript, a volume edited by the library's curator, Raymond Clemens, revivifies this tantalizing artefact. A handsome facsimile is accompanied by an introduction by historian of science Deborah Harkness and six up to date essays by conservators, historians and literary scholars. As Harkness remarks, the collection does not attempt a definitive solution of the conundrums raised by the manuscript. Instead, the contributors "invite the reader to join us at the heart of the mystery as we strive to better understand this complex book and its history" The manuscript is named after Wilfrid Voynich, a Polish born revolutionary who escaped Siberian exile to become a dealer in rare books and manuscripts in London and then New York City. In 1912, under condition of absolute secrecy, Voynich bought the manuscript from a Jesuit archive in Italy that he never identified, but that was selling part of its collection to the Vatican Library. Up to his death in 1930, Voynich marketed it as the work of thirteenth century English scientist and friar Roger Bacon a theory discredited only by the radiocarbon dating. In 1961, the manuscript was purchased by book dealer Hans Kraus, who presented it to Yale; the university put it online in 2004 (see go.nature.com/2dlns1c) Today, it attracts 16% of traffic to the Beinecke digital library, and for close to half of all traffic to the zoom viewer that allows examination of individual pages of manuscripts. When the late semiotician and novelist Umberto Eco visited Yale in 2013, MS 408 was the only manuscript he asked to see, notes Clemens. The high quality colour facsimile makes up most of the book. Each page, including foldouts, is reproduced at almost its original size (around 23 x 16 centimetres) Among the essays, researcher Rene Zandbergen covers the disputed history of the manuscript's ownership from the fifteenth century to 1912. Manuscript curator Arnold Hunt looks at Voynich's respected, but not always scrupulous, career. A group of six conservators details the forensic investigation of the parchment, ink and binding. And historian Jennifer Rampling probes the relationship of the illustrations to those in alchemical manuscripts, finding "no clear parallel" in alchemical writing to the predominance of female bathers. The story of the various failed attempts to decipher the script, told by Clemens and Renaissance scholar William Sherman, is particularly fascinating. It begins in the 1920s, when US philosopher William Newbold convinced himself that the text was meaningless, but that each letter concealed an The Voynich Manuscript
Nature