Back to the cipher

I've been doing a lot of background research in order to get an idea of the context in which Debosnys produced his cipher. To be honest, it's been pretty depressing to read about 19th century French prisons, the Paris Commune, and the Franco Prussian war. I have built a picture of Debosnys as a plagiarist, a liar, and a murderer, the product of a brutal period in history and a brutal prison culture.

For that reason, I am eager to get away from the background research and into the features of the cipher. I have completed a transcription of all of the cipher text in the images in Farnsworth's book, and started analysis.

In my transcription I count 1188 total glyphs in the text, from an inventory of 425 separate types.

There are 65 pairs of glyphs that repeat in the text. The most common repeated sequence in my transcription is this one:

frequency = 8 (0.67%)

The following two sequences are represented differently in my transcription, but if they are the same, they would represent the most common sequence:

 frequency = 5 (0.42%)

frequency = 4 (0.34%)

Also frequent are these:

frequency = 5 (0.42%)

frequency = 4 (0.34%)

The top five most frequent glyphs are these:

89	43	30	29	22
7.5%	3.6%	2.5%	2.4%	1.9%

The 19th Century Criminal Handshake

According to Farnsworth, when Debosnys died his body was found to be covered with shocking tattoos. This was not an uncommon practice among criminals in 19th century France and Italy, and the criminal tattoos I have found are strongly reminiscent of the style of art in Debosnys' manuscripts.

For example, Debosnys drew this handshake, which Farnsworth identifies as a Masonic grip called Boaz:

But this is also a common motif on 19th century criminal tattoos, according to Lombroso, who presents some examples in his L'uomo delinquente, such as this simple one:

The following example is reminiscent of the ritual of blood-brotherhood, where the hands are cut and the cuts are pressed together to symbolically join two people by blood.

This one looks like it might symbolize the union of two people, LH and EL. The flower suggests a romantic relationship, but maybe something else.

Lombroso says this one shows a preference for pederasty, taken in context with other tattoos on the prisoner's body:

Whatever the specific meaning of a handshake, in general it symbolizes some kind of close connection between two people. In this case, between Debosnys and LMF.

Deletnack

We already know that the name "Henry Deletnack Debosnys" was a pseudonym, but his middle name is curious enough to warrant examination. One could imagine something like de l'Etnac, but the consonant cluster tn is especially awkward and very low-frequency in European languages.

I originally thought his full name must be an anagram, with the inconvenient left-over letters tossed into his middle name. However, now I think his middle name is a literary allusion, of sorts.

In 1870 someone named J. Cantel published a book titled Souvenirs et Impressions de Voyage en Italie under the pseudonym M. le vicomte de Letnac, where Letnac is transparently Cantel spelled backwards.

The book is written as a set of letters from "Arthur", a 15-year-old student, to his older brother, describing his travels in Italy in 1869. I can't find any other works by the same J. Cantel, or any clue about what the J. stands for.

What connection, if any, this has to the identity of Henry Debosnys is anyone's guess at this point, but it seems unlikely to be a coincidence. I'm adding Cantel to my list of names to watch for.

"Colonel Henry"

In the period of his autobiography surrounding the Paris Commune, Debosnys refers to himself as "Colonel Henry". Certainly he was not Lucien Henry, who was known as "Colonel Henry", and had been elected chief of the 14th arrondissement during the Paris Commune. Lucien Henry was banished to New Caledonia, but returned to France in 1891, where he died in 1896.

But a curious passage in La fond de la société sous la Commune (1873, pg 351 et seq) suggests that there was another "Colonel Henry". Like Debosnys, this other Colonel Henry fell afoul of the central committee of the Commune, but for different reasons than Debosnys claimed. Like Debosnys, this other Colonel Henry was captured by government forces when they took Paris, but where Colonel Henry was said to have been shot, Debosnys claims to have escaped execution.

Here is a translation of the story of Colonel Henry. Note that this work was compiled out of documents from the archives of the Justice Militaire, which accounts for the slightly odd flow of the narrative.

THE STORY OF COLONEL HENRY

This Colonel Henry had been at first a judge at the court-martial, then a colonel residing at the military school, and the director of military training. The communal police were quite busy with him.

Information to the general and to Raoul Rigault:

It is asserted by Citizen Momnom (?), 7, Rue des Solitaires, that Colonel Henry, appointed a member of the court-martial, was hiding under this pseudonym, that his real name was Prodhomme, ex-treasurer of Guillochin, 64, Rue de Rennes (and this Guillochin would have well-founded and serious reproaches to make). It follows that, as a member of the court martial, its judgments would be tainted with invalidity; and further, dismissal by the court. 

Citizen Momnom (?) believed it his duty to point out this fact so that verification could be made, and he addressed this to the Central Committee. 

The Central Committee, afraid of finding a spy from Versailles under this false name, ordered an investigation. Rigault's police asked for at least a first name and a place of birth. Finally they succeeded in establishing this civilian status: Surname: Prodhomme; First name: Henri; Age: twenty-seven years; Place of birth: Versailles; Occupation: engineer; Home: Boulevard Haussmann, 74; (In 1869) he lived in Belgium. Outcome of the investigation: he made a request in 1869 to found a newspaper: American Tablet (International Gazette), a newspaper he would have to write in English.

On the back of the page, these lines were written in red pencil:

This is indeed the Henry Prodhomme that was sought; He concealed his name to keep a foothold in Versailles in the event of failure. 

-- Gâcher (?)

Information provided by Lavallette:

Was he the cashier of Guillochin? Was he an engineer? In any case, he was Prodhomme, as is proved by this letter written by his father:

Sunday Evening (May 21)

My very dear child, 

We were with Méliné to hear the concert of the Tuileries. Major Mayer was less rigid than you were with his officers, since he was there with his whole staff. 

It is tomorrow, Monday, that the concert of the Opera--or the grand presentation--is to take place. 

You promised a box to Méliné, and if you can get it for her, she will go with your mother and Louise. 

If it is nothing but a ballet, I'll go alone. 

In any case, I'll see you during the day to find out what I need to send you to get dressed. 

Don't forget to talk to the intendant Moreau if you see him before my visit. 

I love you much, 

Your father, 

P. 

Personal. Colonel Henry, Staff Commander at the Ministry of War, 82 Rue Saint-Dominique.

So this father, whose son called himself Colonel Henry, and who himself used this name with him, saw in the criminal usurpation of these high offices only an opportunity to get free tickets to a show. 

And this major, who attended the concert with his whole staff, while the troops of Versailles were breaking the ramparts of the Point du Jour at the gate of the Ternes, and an assault appeared imminent!

The day the father Prodhomme wrote to his beloved child, our soldiers entered Auteuil; The next day they were in Paris. The father Prodhomme could not go to the Opera. His son was taken, and, they say, shot; He himself, that type of Parisian hero who celebrated Henri Monnier, was arrested, and as Henry's father, fell ill and entered the hospital of Versailles. Has he left it? I like to think so. If he is alive, he weeps for his son, he curses destiny, he curses above all the government which overthrew the Commune, this good time of beautiful uniforms and concerts in the Tuileries. One day more, and he could have enjoyed the visit to the Opera which had been promised to him! Behold, the impression that would have been left upon him by these frightful times, and the only lesson he would have derived from it.