On the face of it, I admit, my characterization of the Voynich text as “language of the nymphs” seems outlandish. Readers might think it is some fluffy New Age proposal to be filed along with UFO theories and the like. Here I want to bolster its plausibility. What I am proposing is quite simple and, I contend, not unreasonable in its context.
Imagine this:
Let us suppose our hero is a medieval WATER MARSHAL. Every municipality had one. His duties overlapped with that of SURVEYOR – the oversight of watercourses and water supplies, the keeping of rolls and records of rights to water, and so on. His job was to have an intimate – albeit prescientific - knowledge of the hydrology of the region.
In our relevant landscape – the northern Italian eastern Alps – the abundant and often spectacular watercourses (alpine lakes, rivers, streams, cascades, mineral springs, thermal springs etc.) were believed by the local culture (Ladin) to be populated with nymphs. Indeed, nymphs were believed to control the waterways of the mountains much as dwarves were believed to work and mine the geology. This was a mythopoeic understanding of the landscape in a tradition having its roots in the Iron Age. (And reduplicated in Hellenic forms by the Romans who conquered the landscape and brought a rich nymph mythology with them.)
Let us suppose that our Water Marshal has oversight of a series of valleys and communities centred around the Rosengarten mountains. This domain is depicted in the nine stylized circles of the Voynich map. It is a map of the regions over which our Water Marshal has oversight.
Now, let us suppose our medieval Water Marshal keeps records. He might keep records of various things: place names, boundaries, the rise and fall of lakes relative to the seasons and astronomical chronometers, and so forth. These records, or reports, might be gathered over a period of time.
Now, let us suppose he gathers together a body of such records and reports and wants to bring them into a single volume – a type of survey.
But, instead of just presenting these records as a set of dry, systematic tables of data, he presents them as reports by the nymphs of the landscape. In the Voynich manuscript we see the nymphs engaged in taking records – measuring – the water levels and other aspects of their landscape (including underground rivers). This is a mythopoeic way of presenting the activities of the Water Marshal. He presents his records and reports as matters known to and within the domain of the nymphs. He understands his own work as being the work done by the mountain nymphs, mythologically, and presents it in that way.
Thus is the Voynich text the “language of the nymphs.” What nymphs do is measure and control the hydrology of the mountains. The Water Marshal participates in their labours. He understands his work in this way and presents his book accordingly.
I propose that this is what has happened in the Voynich manuscript. The peculiar thing about the text is that it seems to be a set of (grammarless) lists, a catalogue, an inventory that for some reason has been presented as running prose. My explanation is that a body of data concerning the landscape of a certain region has been cast (into prose) as the speech and reports and records of the mountain nymphs. It is literally being presented as the language of the nymphs.
Imagine this:
Let us suppose our hero is a medieval WATER MARSHAL. Every municipality had one. His duties overlapped with that of SURVEYOR – the oversight of watercourses and water supplies, the keeping of rolls and records of rights to water, and so on. His job was to have an intimate – albeit prescientific - knowledge of the hydrology of the region.
In our relevant landscape – the northern Italian eastern Alps – the abundant and often spectacular watercourses (alpine lakes, rivers, streams, cascades, mineral springs, thermal springs etc.) were believed by the local culture (Ladin) to be populated with nymphs. Indeed, nymphs were believed to control the waterways of the mountains much as dwarves were believed to work and mine the geology. This was a mythopoeic understanding of the landscape in a tradition having its roots in the Iron Age. (And reduplicated in Hellenic forms by the Romans who conquered the landscape and brought a rich nymph mythology with them.)
Let us suppose that our Water Marshal has oversight of a series of valleys and communities centred around the Rosengarten mountains. This domain is depicted in the nine stylized circles of the Voynich map. It is a map of the regions over which our Water Marshal has oversight.
Now, let us suppose our medieval Water Marshal keeps records. He might keep records of various things: place names, boundaries, the rise and fall of lakes relative to the seasons and astronomical chronometers, and so forth. These records, or reports, might be gathered over a period of time.
Now, let us suppose he gathers together a body of such records and reports and wants to bring them into a single volume – a type of survey.
But, instead of just presenting these records as a set of dry, systematic tables of data, he presents them as reports by the nymphs of the landscape. In the Voynich manuscript we see the nymphs engaged in taking records – measuring – the water levels and other aspects of their landscape (including underground rivers). This is a mythopoeic way of presenting the activities of the Water Marshal. He presents his records and reports as matters known to and within the domain of the nymphs. He understands his own work as being the work done by the mountain nymphs, mythologically, and presents it in that way.
Thus is the Voynich text the “language of the nymphs.” What nymphs do is measure and control the hydrology of the mountains. The Water Marshal participates in their labours. He understands his work in this way and presents his book accordingly.
I propose that this is what has happened in the Voynich manuscript. The peculiar thing about the text is that it seems to be a set of (grammarless) lists, a catalogue, an inventory that for some reason has been presented as running prose. My explanation is that a body of data concerning the landscape of a certain region has been cast (into prose) as the speech and reports and records of the mountain nymphs. It is literally being presented as the language of the nymphs.
* * *
The above is a rough sketch, of course, but I offer it as a possible scenario. In its historical context it is not outlandish. I contend that it provides a plausible scenario that could explain some of the most peculiar and confounding aspects of the manuscript. I also contend that it is consistent with traditional cosmologies, and the medieval mind-set, while inherently difficult for modern people to grasp.
R. B.
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