manner. The parties determine, in the first place, upon certain
arrangements of the pack. For example: it is agreed that, when a writing
is to be commenced, a natural sequence of the spots shall be made; with
spades at top, hearts next, diamonds next, and clubs last. This order
being obtained, the writer proceeds to inscribe upon the top card the
first letter of his epistle, upon the next the second, upon the next the
third, and so on until the pack is exhausted, when, of course, he will
have written fifty-two letters. He now shuffles the pack according to a
preconcerted plan. For example: he takes three cards from the bottom and
places them at top, then one from top, placing it at bottom, and so on,
for a given number of times. This done, he again inscribes fifty-two
characters as before, proceeding thus until his epistle is written. The
pack being received by the correspondent, he has only to place the cards
in the order agreed upon for commencement, to read, letter by letter,
the first fifty-two characters as intended. He has then only to shuffle
in the manner pre-arranged for the second perusal, to decipher the
series of the next fifty-two letters—and so on to the end. The
objection to this cryptograph lies in the nature of the missive. _A pack
of cards_, sent from one party to another, would scarcely fail to excite
suspicion; and it cannot be doubted that it is far better to secure
ciphers from being considered as such, than to waste time in attempts at
rendering them scrutiny-proof, when intercepted. Experience shows that
the most cunningly constructed cryptograph, if suspected, can and will
be unriddled.
An unusually secure mode of secret intercommunication might be thus
devised. Let the parties each furnish themselves with a copy of the same
edition of a book—the rarer the edition the better—as also the rarer
the book. In the cryptograph, numbers are used altogether, and these
numbers refer to the locality of letters in the volume. For example—a
cipher is received commencing, 121-6-8. The party addressed refers to
page 121, and looks at the sixth letter from the left of the page in the
eighth line from the top. Whatever letter he there finds is the initial
letter of the epistle—and so on. This method is very secure; yet it is
_possible_ to decipher any cryptograph written by its means—and it is
greatly objectionable otherwise, on account of the time necessarily
required for its solution, even with the key-volume.
It is not to be supposed that Cryptography, as a serious thing, as the
means of imparting important information, has gone out of use at the
present day. It is still commonly practised in diplomacy; and there are
individuals, even now, holding office in the eye of various foreign
governments, whose real business is that of deciphering. We have already
said that a peculiar mental action is called into play in the solution
of cryptographical problems, at least in those of the higher order. Good
cryptographists are rare indeed; and thus their services, although
seldom required, are necessarily well requited.
An instance of the modern employment of writing in cipher is mentioned
in a work lately published by Messieurs Lea & Blanchard, of this
city—“Sketches of Conspicuous Living Characters of France.” In a notice
of Berryer, it is said that a letter being addressed by the Duchess de
Berri to the legitimists of Paris, to inform them of her arrival, it was
accompanied by a long note in cipher, the key of which she had forgotten
to give. “The penetrating mind of Berryer,” says the biographer, “soon
discovered it. It was this phrase substituted for the twenty-four
letters of the alphabet—_Le gouvernement provisoire_.”
The assertion that Berryer “soon discovered the key-phrase,” merely
proves that the writer of these memoirs is entirely innocent of
cryptographical knowledge. Monsieur B. no doubt ascertained the
key-phrase; but it was merely to satisfy his curiosity, _after the
riddle had been read_. He made no use of the key in deciphering. The
lock was picked.
In our notice of the book in question (published in the April number of
this Magazine) we alluded to this subject thus—
“The phrase ‘_Le gouvernement provisoire_’ is French, and the note in
cipher was addressed to Frenchmen. The difficulty of deciphering may
well be supposed much greater, had the key been in a foreign tongue; yet
any one who will take the trouble may address us a note, in the same
manner as here proposed; and the key-phrase may be either in French,
Italian, Spanish, German, Latin, or Greek, (or in any of the dialects of
these languages,) and we pledge ourselves for the solution of the
riddle.”
This challenge has elicited but a single response, which is embraced in
the following letter. The only quarrel we have with the epistle, is that
its writer has declined giving us his name in full. We beg that he will
take an early opportunity of doing this, and thus relieve us of the
chance of that suspicion which was attached to the cryptography of the
weekly journal above-mentioned—the suspicion of inditing ciphers to
ourselves. The postmark of the letter is _Stonington, Conn._
S——, Ct., April 21, 1841.
_To the Editor of Graham’s Magazine._
Sir:—In the April number of your magazine, while reviewing the
translation by Mr. Walsh of “Sketches of Conspicuous Living
Characters of France,” you invite your readers to address you a
note in cipher, “the key phrase to which may be either in
French, Italian, Spanish, German, Latin or Greek,” and pledge
yourself for its solution. My attention being called, by your
remarks, to this species of cipher-writing, I composed for my
own amusement the following exercises, in the first part of
which the key-phrase is in English—in the second in Latin. As I
did not see, (by the number for May,) that any of your
correspondents had availed himself of your offer, I take the
liberty to send the enclosed, on which, if you should think it
worth your while, you can exercise your ingenuity.
I am yours, respectfully,
S. D. L.
No. 1.
Cauhiif aud frd sdftirf ithot tacd wdde rdchfdr tiu fuacfshff
heo fdoudf hetmsafhie tuis ied herhchriai fi aeiftdu wn sdaef it
iuhf heo hiidohwid wn aen deodsf ths tiu itis hf iaf iuhoheaiin
rdffhedr; aer ftd auf it ftif fdoudfin oissiehoafheo
hefdiihodeod taf wdde odeduaiin fdusdr ounsfiouastn. Saen
fsdohdf it fdoudf ihufheo idud weiie fi ftd aeohdaff; fisdfhsdf,
A fiacdf tdar ief ftacdr aer ftd ouiie iuhff de isie ihft fisd
herd hwid oiiiuheo tiihr, atfdu ithot tahu wdheo sdushffdr fi
ouii aoahe, hetiusafhie oiiir wd fuaefshffdr ihft ihffid raeoeu
ft af rhfoicdun iiiir hefid iefhi ftd aswiiafiun dshffid fatdin
udaotdr hff rdffheafhil. Ounsfiouastn tiidcdu siud suisduin
dswuaodf ftifd sirdf it iuhfheo ithot aud uderdudr idohwid iein
wn sdaef it fisd desiaefiun wdn ithot sawdf weiie ftd udai
fhoehthoafhie it ftd onstduf dssiindr fi hff siffdffiu.
No. 2.
Ofoiioiiaso ortsiii sov eodisoioe afduiostifoi ft iftvi si tri
oistoiv oiniafetsorit ifeov rsri inotiiiiv ridiiot, irio rivvio
covit atrotfetsoria aioriti iitri tf oitovin tri aetifei
ioreitit sov usttoi oioittstifo dfti afdooitior trso ifeov tri
dfit otftfeov softriedi ft oistoiv oriofiforiti suitteii
viireiiitifoi ft tri iarfoisiti, iiti trir uet otiiiotiv uitfti
rid io tri eoviieciiiv rfasueostr tf rii dftrit tfoeei.
In the solution of the first of these ciphers we had little more than
ordinary trouble. The second proved to be exceedingly difficult, and it
was only by calling every faculty into play that we could read it at
all. The first runs thus.
“Various are the methods which have been devised for transmitting secret
information from one individual to another, by means of writing,
illegible to any except him for whom it was originally designed; and the
art of thus secretly communicating intelligence has been generally
termed _cryptography_. Many species of secret writing were known to the
ancients. Sometimes a slave’s head was shaved, and the crown written
upon with some indelible coloring fluid; after which the hair being
permitted to grow again, information could be transmitted with little
danger that discovery would ensue until the ambulatory epistle safely
reached its destination. Cryptography, however, pure, properly embraces
those modes of writing which are rendered legible only by means of some
explanatory key which makes known the real signification of the ciphers
employed to its possessor.”
The key-phrase of this cryptograph is—“A word to the wise is
sufficient.”
The second is thus translated—
“Nonsensical phrases and unmeaning combinations of words, as the learned
lexicographer would have confessed himself, when hidden under
cryptographic ciphers, serve to _perpdex_ the curious enquirer, and
baffle penetration more completely than would the most profound
_apothems_ of learned philosophers. Abstruse disquisitions of the
scholiasts, were they but presented before him in the undisguised
vocabulary of his mother tongue——”
The last sentence here (as will be seen) is broken off short. The
spelling we have strictly adhered to. _D_, by mistake, has been put for
_l_ in _perplex_.
The key-phrase is—“_Suaviter in modo, fortiter in re_.”
In the ordinary cryptograph, as will be seen in reference to most of
those we have specified above, the artificial alphabet agreed upon by
the correspondents, is employed, letter for letter, in place of the
usual or natural one. For example:—two parties wish to communicate
secretly. It is arranged before parting that
) shall stand for a
( ————— ” b
— ————— ” c
* ————— ” d
. ————— ” e
’ ————— ” f
; ————— ” g
: ————— ” h
? ————— ” i or j
! ————— ” k
& ————— ” l
0 ————— ” m
‘ ————— ” n
† ————— ” o
‡ ————— ” p
¶ ————— ” q
#[TN1] ————— ” r
] ————— ” s
[ ————— ” t
£ ————— ” u or v
$ ————— ” w
¿ ————— ” x
¡ ————— ” y
%[TN2] ————— ” z
-----
[TN1] Transcriber’s note: In the original publication of the magazine,
the character used was a small right pointing hand, which is visible in
the illustration of the crytograph below. Although a modern html version
of this character exists, it will not display in many modern devices,
depending on the capabilities of the device itself and the fonts
available for use in the device. It has therefore been replaced in this
list with #.
[TN2] Transcriber’s note: In the original publication of the magazine,
the character used was a small left pointing hand. No suitable html
character was found and even if available, the limitations of some
modern devices and fonts prevents its use in this ebook. It has
therefore been replaced in this list with %.
Now the following note is to be communicated—
“We must see you immediately upon a matter of great importance.
Plots have been discovered, and the conspirators are in our
hands. Hasten!”
These words would be written thus—
[Illustration: original page image of cryptograph for the transcription
below]
$.0£][]..¡†£¿00.*¿)].&¡£‡†‘)0)[[.#
†’;#.)[?0‡†#[)‘—.‡&†[]:)£.(..‘*.
]—†£.#.*)‘*—†‘]‡?#)[†#])#?
?‘†£#:)‘*]:)][.‘
[Transcriber’s Note: In a deviation from the original printed book, for
this text version of the ebook, the character # has been used to
represent letter r in this crytogram, as indicated in the above list.]
This certainly has an intricate appearance, and would prove a most
difficult cipher to any one not conversant with cryptography. But it
will be observed that _a_, for example, is never represented by any
other character than ), _b_ never by any other character than (, and so
on. Thus by the discovery, accidental or otherwise, of any one letter,
the party intercepting the epistle would gain a permanent and decided
advantage; and could apply his knowledge to all the instances in which
the character in question was employed throughout the cipher.
In the cryptographs, on the other hand, which have been sent us by our
correspondent at Stonington, and which are identical in conformation
with the cipher resolved by Berryer, no such permanent advantage is to
be obtained.
Let us refer to the second of these puzzles. Its key-phrase runs thus:
_Suaviter in modo, fortiter in re._
Let us now place the alphabet beneath this phrase, letter beneath
letter—
S│u│a│v│i│t│e│r
A│b│c│d│e│f│g│h
i│n│m│o│d│o
i│j│k│l│m│n
f│o│r│t│i│t│e│r
o│p│q│r│s│t│u│v
i│n│r│e
w│x│y│z
We here see that
a stands for ————— c
d stands for ————— m
e stands for g, n and z
f stands for ————— o
i stands for e, i, s and w
m stands for ————— k
n stands for j and x
o stands for l, n and p
r stands for h, q, v and y
s stands for ————— a
t stands for f, r and t
u stands for ————— b
v stands for ————— d
In this manner _n_ stands for two letters, and _e_, _o_, and _t_ for
three each, while _i_ and _r_ represent each as many as four. Thirteen
characters are made to perform the operations of the whole alphabet. The
result of such a key-phrase upon the cipher, is to give it the
appearance of a mere medley of the letters _e_, _o_, _t_, _r_ and
_i_—the latter character greatly predominating, through the accident of
being employed for letters which, themselves, are inordinately prevalent
in most languages—we mean _e_ and _i_.
A letter thus written being intercepted, and the key-phrase unknown, the
individual who should attempt to decipher it may be imagined _guessing_,
or otherwise attempting to convince himself, that a certain character
(_i_, for example,) represented the letter _e_. Looking throughout the
cryptograph for confirmation of this idea, he would meet with nothing
but a negation of it. He would see the character in situations where it
could not possibly represent _e_. He might, for instance, be puzzled by
four _i_’s forming of themselves a single word, without the intervention
of any other character; in which case, of course, they could not be _all
e_’s. It will be seen that the word _wise_ might be thus constructed. We
say this may be seen _now_, by us, in possession of the key-phrase; but
the question will, no doubt, occur, how, _without_ the key-phrase, and
without cognizance of any single letter in the cipher, it would be
possible for the interceptor of such a cryptograph to make any thing of
such a word as _iiii_?
But again. A key-phrase might easily be constructed, in which one
character would represent seven, eight, or ten letters. Let us then
imagine the word _iiiiiiiiii_ presenting itself in a cryptograph to an
individual _without_ the proper key-phrase; or, if this be a supposition
somewhat too perplexing, let us suppose it occurring to the person for
whom the cipher is designed, and who _has_ the key-phrase. What is he to
do with such a word as _iiiiiiiiii_? In any of the ordinary books upon
Algebra will be found a very concise _formula_ (we have not the
necessary type for its insertion here) for ascertaining the number of
arrangements in which _m_ letters may be placed, taken _n_ at a time.
But no doubt there are none of our readers ignorant of the innumerable
combinations which may be made from these ten _i_’s. Yet, unless it
occur otherwise by accident, the correspondent receiving the cipher
would have to write down all these combinations before attaining the
word intended; and even when he had written them, he would be
inexpressibly perplexed in selecting the word designed from the vast
number of other words arising in the course of the permutation.
To obviate, therefore, the exceeding difficulty of deciphering this
species of cryptograph, on the part of the possessors of the key-phrase,
and to confine the deep intricacy of the puzzle to those for whom the
cipher was not designed, it becomes necessary that some _order_ should
be agreed upon by the parties corresponding—some order in reference to
which those characters are to be read which represent more than one
letter—and this _order_ must be held in view by the writer of the
cryptograph. It may be agreed, for example, that the _first_ time an _i_
occurs in the cipher, it is to be understood as representing that
character which stands against the _first i_ in the key-phrase; that the
_second_ time an _i_ occurs it must be supposed to represent that letter
which stands opposed to the _second i_ in the key-phrase, &c. &c. Thus
the _location_ of each cipherical letter must be considered in connexion
with the character itself, in order to determine its exact
signification.
We say that some pre-concerted _order_ of this kind is necessary, lest
the cipher prove too intricate a lock to yield even to its true key. But
it will be evident, upon inspection, that our correspondent at
Stonington has inflicted upon us a cryptograph in which _no_ order has
been preserved; in which many characters, respectively, stand, at
absolute random, for many others. If, therefore, in regard to the
gauntlet we threw down in April, he should be half inclined to accuse us
of braggadocio, he will yet admit that we have _more_ than acted up to
our boast. If what we then said was not said _suaviter in modo_, what we
now do is at least done _fortiter in re_.
In these cursory observations we have by no means attempted to exhaust
the subject of Cryptography. With such object in view, a folio might be
required. We have indeed mentioned only a few of the ordinary modes of
cipher. Even two thousand years ago, Æneas Tacticus detailed twenty
distinct methods; and modern ingenuity has added much to the science.
Our design has been chiefly suggestive; and perhaps we have already
bored the readers of the Magazine. To those who desire farther
information upon this topic, we may say that there are extant treatises
by Trithemius, Cap. Porta, Vignere, and P. Niceron. The works of the two
latter may be found, we believe, in the library of the Harvard
University. If, however, there should be sought in these
disquisitions—or in any—_rules for the solution_ of cipher, the seeker
will be disappointed. Beyond some hints in regard to the general
structure of language, and some minute exercises in their practical
application, he will find nothing upon record which he does not in his
own intellect possess.
* * * * *
EXTRACT FROM AN UNPUBLISHED POEM.
BY THE AUTHOR OF HOWARD PINCKNEY, ETC.
THE MEETING OF THE LOVERS.
’Twas on the outskirts of a wood—
A wood of tall and aged trees,
That gave a charm to solitude,
A murmur to the breeze;
’Twas when frequent falls the leaf,
And we begin to say that brief
And briefer grows the day;
When, far away, the evening sky
Looks sad and sober to the eye;
When darker grows the rivulet,
Where, in some tiny eddy’s play,
The fallen leaves so fitful fret,
Like Hope, when we would hold it yet,
And it would fain be far away.
How beautiful the beechen tree!
A beechen tree of giant mould,
Whose roots did many a rock unfold.
Entwining them, as you might see:
For, branching from the parent stem,
A velvet moss just covered them;
They sought the nurture of the brook
That from its shade a deep green took,
And murmur’d like the lullaby
Of cradle-watchers, when they look
Upon the infant’s closing eye.
Forth stepping like the timid deer,
And hearing her own step with fear,
On came a gentle maid;
She crosses o’er the rivulet:
Her silken slipper is not wet—
Why should she be afraid?
She seems spell-bound, and yet seems not;
If fearful thus, why seek the spot?
Why stops she by the tree?
We have volition where to go,
And we may wander to and fro,
Yet, we may not be free—
For Love, though all unseen his chain,
Will draw us over land and main;
And though we meet as far between
As winter wild from summer green,
Yet Love, like Heaven, will be above
The hearts that truly vow to love.
With step, e’en as the maiden’s, light,
But not a step that e’er knew fright,
Comes one with love-lit look;
He clasps her with his arms around,
As is yon water lily bound
By the encircling brook,
And as it palely droops to hear
The music of the whispering water,
She listens with a charmed fear,
Bound by the spell which there has brought her
The while her fair brow bends and beams
Like that pale flower that loves the streams.
How to his heart he holds the flower!
“O! ever blessed be the hour
Which brings thee, Helen, to my side.
Our friends would frown, I know, my bird
If but our slightest word were heard;
But, oh! thou yet wilt be my bride—
For though we meet here but to part,
’Tis not with a divided heart;
Thou wert the soonest here to-day,
But no neglect kept me away;
I know this hour—I know no more—
The rest are but to tell it o’er.”
“I came the sooner, love,” said she,
With maidenly simplicity—
“Because, before the sun goes down,
Stern darkness in the woods will frown;
And though I reach my home while yet
The red clouds linger in the west,
Methinks dark forms the woods beset;
They trouble me with sad unrest;
How, yester-eve, the big trees moaned!
Methought for me they sighed and groaned:
The screech-owl screeched above my path—
It seemed to haunt me with its wrath:
And all the gentler birds have flown—
The loneliness is all my own!”
“Love, this is autumn now, you know;
To other lands the wild birds go—
They only rest in summer bower,
And only stay while lasts the flower;
But, Helen, not thus let it be
With all this love that binds us now;
In winter, bare will be the tree,
No bird will sing upon the bough—
But see where I have taught the beech,
If either here should roam alone,
Long after this blest hour has flown,
The vows of both to tell to each:
Our names I’ve circled with a heart,
As thus I hold thee to my own,
And thus, though we afar may part
As ever yet did fond ones sever,
The love that binds us holds forever.”
This beech tree was their trysting-place!
There, oft in summer’s fragrant eve,
Just when the red sun took his leave—
When the coy moon, with half hid face,
Peeped o’er the eastern hills afar,
With here and there a radiant star;
When twilight came, with sober mien,
And silence brooded o’er the scene—
Thither the maid would often stray,
Humming, may be, a laughing lay,
That told true love was all untrue,
And made of nothing great ado;
She’d have them think, if she were heard,
She scorned the very love she sought,
And that she sung like careless bird—
A maiden who was free in thought:
Who roamed, and, roaming, trolled a glee,
Because she wanted company.
Upon this eve they met to part
Till spring again should clothe the vine;
They pledged their faith with beating heart,
And made the beechen tree their shrine;
He watched her white dress, glimmering bright
Thro’ the dark woods: “Good night! good night!”
* * * * *
SYBIL AND MAIDEN.
BY G. G. FOSTER.
_Sybil._
Why art thou sad? Why droops the willowy lid
O’er the deep fountain of that passionate eye?
What monster in thy bosom’s depths is playing,
And heaving thus those delicate billows, which
The wind of thy sweet breath but dares to swell,
Most daintily, and sighs to fly away?
_Maiden._
I nothing know, but that in a dream
A spirit of light on the pale moonbeam
Flew into my chamber—and it did seem
Nought but a brighter and purer beam
That had dropped from the beautiful sky,
’Till I wakened—and lo! a lovely mouth,
Whose breath was sweet as winds of the south,
And an eye flashing soft with love and desire,
Which thrilled all my frame with quivering fire,
Peered out, as a cloud swept by;
And a soft voice whispered a thrilling tale,
And my eye grew dim and my red cheek pale.
_Sybil._
Thy guest, fair maid, was Love! Nay, do not start,
And turn thy modest eyes upon the moon—
The god within thee but betrays himself
In every graceful motion. Thou dost pant
To learn the mysteries of thy new found worship.
The secret torrent rushing through thy veins
Makes eloquent music to thy listening heart,
Which beats unconsciously the measure out.
I know thy malady—so come with me:
I’ll cure thee with indulgence.
The maiden bent her white and stately neck,
And sounds of joy flew from her parted lips,
Like birds from roses—and the sorceress flung
A dainty chain of gold and gossamer
About her, and with sound of wings and breath
Of fragrance, vanished.
Maiden, look up! behold!
A dark-haired youth, with eyes of burning light,
Kneels gracefully before her; and his words,
Scarce heard for sighs, thrill to the inmost heart
Of that fair listener. He takes her hand—
His arm is round her—kisses warm and sweet
Rain on her lips and eyes—she gasps with joy,
And melts into his arms.
St. Louis, April, 1841.
* * * * *
SPORTS AND PASTIMES.—ANGLING.
The natural history of Fishes may be greatly promoted by anglers, and
some knowledge of that history assuredly adds interest to the pursuits
of the sportsman. He ought, therefore, to be able to skin and prepare
his specimens, to observe and describe them with precision, and to
dissect them with sufficient skill to take cognizance both of their
external parts and their internal structure. Every naturalist, on the
other hand, should be an angler, and that for more reasons than one. In
the remoter and less peopled districts of the country, which so
frequently present the most interesting fields for observation, he has
no means of inspecting the finny tribes, except by capturing them
_propriâ manû_, and his doing so will greatly contribute, not only to
his scientific knowledge, but his social comfort—trouts when newly
angled and nicely fried, being worthy of admiration, as choice
productions of nature adorned by the skill of art. But this latter
branch of our subject comes so home to the “business and bosoms” of all
men, that we need not here dilate upon it.