Episode 29. The Voynich Manuscript.
A floral illustration on page 32, Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library,
Yale University
If you’re a fan of unsolved mysteries, you’ve likely heard of the Voynich Manuscript. I hadn’t, until I started going down a Wikipedia rabbit hole late one night.
The Voynich Manuscript is a hand written and illustrated binding that has been carbon dated to the early 15th century. It’s named after Wilfrid Voynich, a Polish book dealer who purchased the manuscript in 1912.
There was a cover letter retrieved from the text in 1912, when Voynich purchased it. The letter was dated in the year 1665, and read:
Reverend and Distinguished Sir, Father in Christ:
This book, bequeathed to me by an intimate friend, I destined for you, my very dear Athanasius, as soon as it came into my possession, for I was convinced that it could be read by no one except yourself.
The former owner of this book asked your opinion by letter, copying and sending you a portion of the book from which he believed you would be able to read the remainder, but he at that time refused to send the book itself. To its deciphering he devoted unflagging toil, as is apparent from attempts of his which I send you herewith, and he relinquished hope only with his life. But his toil was in vain, for such Sphinxes as these obey no one but their master, Kircher. Accept now this token, such as it is and long overdue though it be, of my affection for you, and burst through its bars, if there are any, with your wonted success.
Dr. Raphael, a tutor in the Bohemian language to Ferdinand III, then King of Bohemia, told me the said book belonged to the Emperor Rudolph and that he presented to the bearer who brought him the book 600 ducats. He believed the author was Roger Bacon, the Englishman. On this point I suspend judgement; it is your place to define for us what view we should take thereon, to whose favor and kindness I unreservedly commit myself and remain
At the command of your Reverence,
Joannes Marcus Marci of Cronland
Prague, 19th August, 1665
It’s place of origin is considered to be Northern Italy, and it’s language is unknown. Some scholars, code breakers, or fans, claim to have identified some of the language as either Latin or High German. Medieval scholars, however, have their doubts. It is suspected to have been previously owned by Roman Emperor Rudolph II, and has changed hands multiple times. It now resides with Yale.
The manuscript itself contains only 240 out of the original 272 pages. It includes sections devoted to herbalism, astrology, biology, cosmology, pharmacology and various recipes.
The manuscript is bound in goats skin, apparently not original to it. Most pages include drawings and diagrams, with colour for these thought to have been added in the 1600s. A work of ages.
Given the nature of the drawings, diagrams and recipes, it has been suggested that the manuscript was originally used as a pharmacopoeia, addressing medieval and early modern medicine, likely for women’s health.
There are notes included in the text, written in Latin and High German, though it hasn’t been confirmed whether these were part of the original text or if the annotations were added at a later date.
The code of the manuscript has been studied for years, but the text has not yet been decoded or translated. Substitution codes have been ruled out as the repetition of certain characters does not occur as it would in any known language. There is no obvious punctuation throughout the text. Though, 20-25 unique characters have been identified which would be enough to make up the average alphabet.
Some believe that the code is a short-hand, possibly stemming from Latin. Others believe that it may be a vowel-less alphabet, again, written in shorthand. There have been attempts as recent as 2018 to decode the manuscript, where it was thought to be Hebrew, written in an abnormal format. Medieval scholars, however, are skeptical of this translation and believe that the manuscript will never be deciphered. That is, if it was ever meant to be. There is always the chance that at the time of its creation, it was nothing but a hoax.
Reprinted, high quality copies of the manuscript are available, complete with artwork. I’ve been considering buying one for myself from Booktopia. Though there’s obviously no chance I’ll be the one to crack the secret, it sounds like an inspiring object to own.
The manuscript itself has inspired films, novels and symphonies.
Good Nightmare 