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Really interesting article on the ancient-manuscript scholars who are applying their techniques to the Voynich Manuscript.
No one has been able to understand the writing yet, but there are some new understandings:
Davis presented her findings at the medieval-studies conference and published them in 2020 in the journal Manuscript Studies. She had hardly solved the Voynich, but she’d opened it to new kinds of investigation. If five scribes had come together to write it, the manuscript was probably the work of a community, rather than of a single deranged mind or con artist. Why the community used its own language, or code, remains a mystery. Whether it was a cloister of alchemists, or mad monks, or a group like the medieval Béguines—a secluded order of Christian women—required more study. But the marks of frequent use signaled that the manuscript served some routine, perhaps daily function.
Davis’s work brought like-minded scholars out of hiding. In just the past few years, a Yale linguist named Claire Bowern had begun performing sophisticated analyses of the text, building on the efforts of earlier scholars and on methods Bowern had used with undocumented Indigenous languages in Australia. At the University of Malta, computer scientists were figuring out how to analyze the Voynich with tools for natural-language processing. Researchers found that the manuscript’s roughly 38,000 words—and 9,000-word vocabulary—had many of the statistical hallmarks of actual language. The Voynich’s most common word, whatever it meant, appeared roughly twice as often as the second-most-common word and three times as often as the third-commonest, and so on—a touchstone of natural language known as Zipf’s law. The mix of word lengths and the ratio of unique words to total words were similarly language-like. Certain words, moreover, seemed to follow one another in predictable order, a possible sign of grammar.
Finally, each of the text’s sections—as defined by the drawings of plants, stars, bathing women, and so on—had different sets of overrepresented words, just as one would expect in a real book whose chapters focused on different subjects.
Spelling was the chief aberration. The Voynich alphabet—if that’s what it was—appeared to have a conventional 20-odd letters. But compared with known languages, too many of those letters repeated in the same order, both within words and across neighboring words, like a children’s rhyme. In some places, the spellings of adjacent words so converged that a single word repeated two or three times in a row. A rough English equivalent might be something akin to “She sells sea shells by the sea shore.” Another possibility, Bowern told me, was something like pig Latin, or the Yiddishism—known as “shm-reduplication”—that begets phrases such as fancy shmancy and rules shmules.
