Introducing the truly mysterious medieval work

Today, we are discussing the mysterious manuscript known as the Voynich Manuscript. Okay, so the word 'mysterious' is often used when discussing Medieval manuscripts or simply old(er) books, just like the word 'ancient.' However, with the Voynich Manuscript, the adjective isn't just 100 percent accurate. It's also singular in that we're pretty much in the dark when it comes to this work.

This mysterious manuscript was made famous at the beginning of the last century by Wilfrid Voynich. The American-Polish book collector bought the manuscript from the Society of Christ in 1912 at Villa Mondragone, near Rome. Voynich hoped that the manuscript would soon be deciphered and he himself would be able to sell it for a high price. Those hopes were dashed. In fact, very little has been discovered in the time since its publication.

The dating of the materials on which the manuscript was written led to the conclusion that it was probably composed at the beginning of the fifteenth century, during the Italian Renaissance. But not necessarily in Italy. That's about it.

Who composed this manuscript? Why and for whom was it written? In what language? What can possibly explain the fantastic drawings of plants we find in it— which have no equivalent in the real world… How should the intricate star maps be interpreted? And what can explain the paintings of pools connected by pipes and in which all these naked women are wading? No one knows. or perhaps— too many.

Although couple of years a new scholar comes out with grandiose statements that the manuscript has been finally deciphered and this time it is clear and known that it is a manual written by Benedictine nuns in a forgotten medieval language (or maybe a text by Jewish alchemists who wrote in a language close to but not exactly identical to ancient Hebrew?), the editors of the facsimile edition I own are much more careful. They humbly admit that they simply don't know.

And that's what makes it all so interesting: the caution required when attempting to decipher this manuscript. Here is an example of a truly reasonable hypothesis that the editors of the facsimile permit themselves— reasonable and very modest:

Just wonderful!

Another interesting hypothesis is that the manuscript's page numbers were added at least a hundred years after its composition, for the simple reason that the writing was unknown to the future owners of the manuscript and therefore they felt obligated to at least number the pages in a vain effort to keep track of all the confusion. This is also what makes it clear to us today that numerous pages from the original manuscript are missing because there are gaps in the page numbering.

I have attached some pictures so that you too can enjoy all this goodness. And if you have an idea about what all this means— don't hesitate to explain it all to us in the comments. As I mentioned, scholars from all over the world do not hesitate...

Oh, but before that: It is impossible to talk about the Voynich manuscript without mentioning the Codex Seraphinianus— an encyclopedia of a non-existent world conceived by Luigi Serafini in 1981, a wonderful Italian surrealist artist.

Since Luigi Serafini created his surreal pseudo-manuscript a lot of imaginative visual artist and visionary writers joined the fun. But while most of the encyclopedias of imagined worlds are stunning and creative in the best possible of the word, Voynich is the true O.G, the truly mysterious work of literature.

Some images from the Voynich Manuscript (you can check out the complete manuscript online):

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