How many symbols are in a script?

Given Zipf's law, it seems like you should be able to calculate the number of symbols in a script based on the number of symbols that only occur only one time in a sample of text.

I worked out the math, but the code I've written to do the calculation is very slow when it comes to scripts with a large number of symbols (like Debosnys' cipher), so I also wrote a Monte Carlo simulation that can come up with an approximate answer much more quickly.

The Debosnys ciphers contain 1188 glyphs, of which 277 occur only once. For a text like this we would expect a total glyph inventory of around 1500 symbols.

Here is what the distribution looks like for texts of 1188 symbols. The x-axis is the inventory of symbols, and the y-axis is the number that would appear only once in a distribution that conforms to Zipf's law.

Another note on N-Glyphs

To test the hypothesis that the subglyph N represents nasalization of a vowel, I looked at the frequency of nasalized syllables in Beaudelaire's Fleurs du Mal and compared it to the cipher poem.

I have a copy of Fleurs du Mal containing 3182 Alexandrine lines. (One poem in this copy is not an Alexandrine). Among these lines, I count 6536 nasalized syllables, so an average of 2.05 nasalized syllables per line.

If the Debosnys cipher poem is a French Alexandrine, and the N subglyph represents nasalization (and is the only representation of nasalization), then we should expect to find a similar distribution of N subglyphs in the cipher poem.

Of the 20 lines of the cipher poem, I counted a total of 30 n-glyphs, so an average of 1.5 n-glyphs per line. More specifically, the number of n-glyphs per line was distributed as follows:

0 n-glyphs: 2 lines, 10%
1 n-glyph: 6 lines, 30%
2 n-glyphs: 9 lines, 45%
3 n-glyphs: 2 lines, 10%

Among the Alexandrine lines of Fleurs du Mal we have the following distribution:

0 nasalized vowels: 366 lines, 11.5%
1 nasalized vowel: 816 lines, 25.6%
2 nasalized vowels: 897 lines, 28.2%
3 nasalized vowels: 658 lines, 20.1%
4 nasalized vowels: 312 lines, 9.8%
5 nasalized vowels: 101 lines, 3.2%
6-7 nasalized vowels: 32 lines, 1.6%

This looks like a promising match, but more work needs to be done obviously.

A look at N-Glyphs

In this post I'll take a look at a single class of Debosnys glyphs that I call "N-Glyphs", in hopes of ferreting out some details on how the cipher works.

N-glyphs are characterized by having a subglyph at the top that looks like a tilde (~), which I transliterate as N. The N subglyph has the following properties:

• It cannot occur on its own, but only in combination with other subglyphs
• It can only occur at the top of a glyph, or else directly under another N subglyph
• Though N cannot occur on its own, N.N frequently occurs on its own

The following are examples of all of the types of N-glyphs that I have identified:

If we assume that these glyphs represent syllables, then the observed properties of the N subglyph may give us a clue into what it represents.

The greatest challenge is to explain why N cannot occur on its own, but N.N can. However, many subglyphs can occur as pairs, and I think it is possible that pairs such as N.N, I.I and O.O may represent different subglyphs from the corresponding singles N, I and O. If we can accept that explanation, then two possibilities suggest themselves:

1. N is a consonant that can only occur in syllable-initial position.

• It cannot occur on its own because it must be accompanied by a vowel to make a syllable
• It can only occur at the top of a glyph because it is a consonant (such as French b or d) that can only occur in syllable-initial position.

2. N is a marker of a vocalic feature

• It cannot occur on its own because it is a feature of another subglyph (in this case a vowel) which must be present.
• It only occurs at the top of a glyph because it is used as a suprasegmental mark

At the moment I'm favoring the idea that the N is a marker of nasalization, directly influenced by the use of the tilde in certain languages as a suprasegmental mark of nasalization (e.g. ã, ẽ, ĩ, õ, ũ). To test this theory, I will look at the frequency of the N subglyph in the cipher poem, and compare it to the frequency of nasalized syllables in a large set of French Alexandrine lines.

Debosnys Cipher Transcription Revision

My initial transcription of the Debosnys cipher texts allocated one transcription to one glyph, where I have defined a glyph as a cluster of graphemes bounded to the left and right by white space. So, for example, the "signature" line is analyzed as six glyphs:

 C2B2 XP NU ZOO OM2N SHI

With the Debosnys material, this yields a text of 1188 instances of 425 glyphs. That means a lot of the text will consist of glyphs that only occur once, which makes contextual analysis difficult. I thought it would be useful to be able to do some analysis on deconstructed glyphs as well. So I created a second transcription that looks at the internal structure of the glyphs:

 <C2 B2> <X DOT> <N U> <O Z O> <O2RNO> <CROSSB>

There is an order to the internal structures of glyphs. For example, using Backus-Naur form, you could describe a whole set of glyphs as follows:

<n-glyph> ::= N <n-tail>
<n-tail> ::= <n-medial> | <n-medial> <n-final>
<n-medial> ::= N | U | X | O
<n-final> ::= X | O

I am currently exploring the idea that these structures correspond to syllable structures, with subglyphs representing letters or phonemes.

The distribution of sub-glyphs follows Zipf's law, with the subglyph O being most common. In French, the most common letter is e, and there is a favorable comparison between the frequency of the O subglyph in the cipher poem and the vowel e in a comparable number of lines of Beaudelaire's poetry.

More on that when I have time.

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.

Pasigraphie

Debosnys claimed that his cipher was in common use in Europe, but so far I haven't found any evidence to support that. Many books were printed in 19th-century France on secret writing, but serious ciphers of that era tended to eschew mysterious symbols in favor of using letters, numbers and early cryptologic methods.

If Debosnys' account of his life before 1871 is true (and there is not yet any reason to believe that) then one possibility is that his cipher was in common use among criminal fraternities, secret societies or as an unofficial means of secret communication among the lower ranks of the military.

All of that is speculation until we find evidence.

But in the search for evidence of such a system is I have read or skimmed quite a number of 19th-century French books on various specialized systems of writing: Stenography, Okygraphy, Tachygraphy, "French Hieroglyphs", etc. Among these I have found a few books on Pasigraphie.

I'm not quite sure how to characterize Pasigraphie. It is probably most like a universal language, but one that was never intended to be spoken. The graphemes of Pasigraphie do not have any phonetic value, but can be treated as digits in a base-12 number system.

These symbols are used to build words, which really are addresses pointing to entries in a nomenclator:

The graphemes can then be joined together, so complex symbols can be built from the simpler elements:

[Edit] Apparently Pasilalie was the spoken form of Pasigraphie.

Debosnys Real Name Part IV: Jacob Pomries and his wife Elise

I found a much clearer image of the passenger manifest from the arrival of the Cimbria at New York on July 3, 1871, courtesy of FamilySearch.org, together with transcribed names. Meet Jacob and Elise Pomries:

I puzzled for a long time over the occupation listed here, and finally decided that it may read "Slate Maker". From Stone: An Illustrated Magazine, vol. 6 (Dec 1892 - May 1893):

Debosnys' Real Name, Part III: A much better lead

In his autobiography, Debosnys claimed that, after the Franco-Prussian war and the events of the Paris commune, he "returned to Paris and went to Havre de Grace where he embarked on board the Cimbria for New York in June. His wife, Mrs. Judith Debosnys, died in July...."

The Cimbria route went from Hamburg to Havre to New York, so this part of the story is plausible. It arrived in New York on July 3rd, 1871. At that time, a liner could take around 9 days to cross the Atlantic, which would make his arrival consistent with a June departure date from Havre.

Thanks to the wonder of the internet, I have the passenger manifest from the Cimbria. It records the arrival of people belonging to

• Germany (387)
• United States (56)
• Russia (6)
• Switzerland (28)
• Denmark (2)
• Holland (2)

Debosnys claimed to have come to America in 1863 to fight in the Civil War, so presumably (if he is on the manifest at all) he is listed as an American. He claimed to have been born May 16, 1836, so presumably we are looking for a man aged 35 years (or so). He came with his wife, so presumably we are looking for a man and woman who share the same name.

Here are all of the Americans on the manifest, with my notes on each:

German surname (Friedr Schultz); traveling alone

German surname (Georg Kessler); traveling alone

39-year-old woman (Caroline Fasel) traveling with a 15-year-old boy and a 3-year-old girl

German surname (Franz and Maria Dorn), age 45

Fritz Austen, age 31

Jacob Pomries, age 35 traveling with a Elise, age 22.

William Burmeister, aged 49 traveling with Louise, age 30.

German family (Richd Schmitz, Anna, Albert) and teenager Richard Muth

50-year-old Maria Schwartz with 17-year-old Antonia

28-year-old Adolf Schwalle with Anne

Sam Kahn age 21

Joh Schling age 47

John Hansen, age 23

Catherine Haupt, age 42

Friedr Kesschl, age 49

Jacob Raible, age 44

C W Stock, age 31

Fried Baden, age 33

Gust Engler, age 27

Ferd V Knessebeck, age 42

Carl Spierling, age 26

Rich Raufft, age 46

A woman surnamed Bliss, age 27, with children Willy (4) and Elsa (2)

Ellen Quinn, age 24

Marg Hathaway, age 27

C. A. Guarriges, age 27

Simon Morris, age 38, with wife Minna (24) and children David (2) and Wanda (11 mo)

Leon Grun, age 36, with Adeline (24)

Leroy Sauer, age 43

Helena Rohmeyer, age 40

Heir Clauss, age 40

Georg Schmolzy, age 37

C Pless, age 28

Carl Roll, age 42

Herm Calvi, age 14

Lucy Young, age 22

Ph Preund, age 46, with Augusta (34)

Walthae Gutmaw, age 28

Out of all of these, one couple actually fits the profile well. The couple apparently named Jacob and Elisa, whose surname is frustratingly difficult to make out:

I'm going to see if I can get a clearer image of this page.

Debosnys Real Name, Part II

Here is another name to research: Delpech.

Apparently a citizen named Louis Delpech, prefect of Bouches-du-Rhône, formed one of several companies of francs-tireurs called Francs-Tireurs de la Mort. Here is a notice regarding the creation of that company from the Actes du Gouvernement de la Défense Nationale, v II, p 173:

Delpech was made colonel and served under Bourbaki, just as Debosnys claimed to have done (La Campagne de l'Est et l'Armée de Bourbaki, p 101)

But Delpech was not Debosnys, since Delpech returned to civilian life after the war (working in the realm of rail transportation between France and Portugal) and died in 1896. The two men would have been only two years apart in age, though.

Debosnys' Real Name

Debosnys claimed to be living under a pseudonym. Resolving the question of his true name could help solve the cipher, because one of the passages ends with what looks like a signature line:

If this encodes his real name, and if we can determine what that name is, then this could provide us with a crib.

I've been reading and re-reading Debosnys' account of his life as presented in Farnsworth's Adirondack Enigma, looking for circumstances in which his real name would have become a matter of record. One puzzling item was a note that Debosnys wrote in the margin of his autobiography:

"Change of name in October [1870] and sent to the army of the Rhone, franc terror of the death under Bourbaky and associated with the franck terror"

My initial thought was that there had been a horrible incident ("the franc terror") that led him to change his name in order to dissociate himself from it.

But now I understand that he was claiming to be a franc-tireur, a volunteer in the French guerrilla forces that resisted the Prussian invasion during the Franco-Prussian war. I've skimmed the autobiographies of a couple of francs-tireurs, and I am fairly confident he sequence of events in his autobiography related to clashes with the Prussians is either drawn from or written in imitation of the rapport journalier of a captain of the francs-tireurs.

The francs-tireurs were generally named after their place of origin or their commander. Debosnys uses the expression "franc terror of the death", but I haven't found any reference to a formation of francs-tireurs by that name. Perhaps it was a nickname.

Debosnys claims to have "volunteered for the Franco-Prussian war in 1870 with 600 men from America", and the narrative suggests that he was their leader. This doesn't seem to have been an uncommon sequence of events, and reflects somewhat the experience of Le Comte de Foudras, the commandant of the francs-tireurs de la Sarthe, who came from Belgium, gathered 338 volunteers, and organized them into four companies under his own command.

A formation of 600 Americans ought to be mentioned somewhere. Luckily, there is someone named Antan who has written a blog post about the names of formations of francs-tireurs. Apparently there were 599 formations, so a review of the full list may be necessary (if I can find the publication where they are listed), but the following from the blog post are interesting:

ST 428 Francs-tireurs Franco – Américains, capitaine Rampon
ST 453 Enfants Perdus d’Amérique (Français), capitaine Laugran
ST 519 Enfants Perdus de l’Amérique du Nord, lieutenant Laugran
ST 553 Volontaires Franco – Américains (ou Légion Américaine), lieutenant Soula

This list gives us three names to research: Rampon, Laugran and Soula.

What is Debosnys' "Portuguese"?

I just bought Farnsworth's Adirondack Enigma, so I've had a chance to read a bit more about Debosnys.

One page in Adirondack Enigma shows samples of Debosnys' writing in Latin, Portuguese, French, English and Spanish. The Latin, French and English are good (though the Latin is just a quote from the Vulgate bible). I can't see enough of the Spanish to tell if it is good. The Portuguese is puzzling.

Here is that piece of text:

Comoderondas inacia bêco olondo inoto para
Imbiabo kotaronc molonk niarotan pérana

I've never studied Portuguese, but if I look at a page of Portuguese text I can usually make it out based on what I know of French and Spanish. Of this, however, I can make neither heads nor tails. Likewise, I have trouble with this text, which is not specifically identified as "Portuguese", but is not anything else that I would recognize:

inno calledaz

Ontro de palade mosa kaen faleï tonüe dhala pico indor kouniss plaira colrose, inbello monozy impiodo cara. ûntez noüméa, tintems oda formandore, artosa passat Otiva ...(remaining text not clear or cut off)

Some of the words can be found in a Portuguese dictionary, if it is big enough, but I can't find most of them, and many are phonologically and orthographically problematic. For example, the word-initial k- in kotaronc, kaen and kouniss would be unexpected in any Romance language, since that sound is normally represented by c before a and o. The cluster dh in dhala is odd as well. Likewise, not a single word is repeated, and there is only one monosyllabic word in the bunch.

It seems there are three possible interpretations here:

1. This is Portuguese, but Debosnys learned it only as a spoken language and writes it phonetically in a way that is difficult to decipher
2. This is another knowable language, such as a secret argot, a creole, or an obscure language
3. This is not a knowable language--either it is nonsense, or a twin language, or an invented language

Time may tell. Or not.

A possible theme for the Cipher Poem

The Greek text on the opposite side of the page from the cipher poem (as I mentioned) is largely the first part of an ode written by Thomas Moore as a preface to his translations from Anacreon. This part of the poem sets the stage for Wisdom to ask the poet why he spends his life the way he does.

Debosnys has altered the wording of the original, so the goddess asks the following question:

"τι, γερων, τεον βιον μεν / ω δε βια του γαληνην"

Classical Greek isn't a language I know well, so I have to kind of wing it here. The German translation on Klaus Schmeh's blog is problematic because they misread the word "τεον" as "νεον". But I believe the question the goddess asks in Debosnys' version is:

"Why, old one, do you employ your life in the violence of tranquility?"

The word βια apparently has a range of meanings including: force; act of violence; rape. The word γαληνη means stillness.

In Thomas Moore's original, the subsequent lines are the poet's response to the goddess. I have a feeling the cipher poem is Debosnys' answer to this question.

What the Debosnys Cipher Poem isn't

I've been testing the hypothesis that the Debosnys cipher poem (DCP) is written in French, fits (roughly) an alexandrine meter, and each symbol represents a syllable.

My hypothesis is failing my tests.

I hunted through Beaudelaire's alexandrines and looked at the ones with AABB rhyme schemes, to use for comparison. I divided lines from these poems into syllables using five different approaches. In no case did the result resemble the pattern of symbol frequencies in the DCP, even accounting for the possibility that some of the DCP symbols might be nulls. The two main problems are these:

1. High frequency symbols in the DCP occur more frequently than high-frequency syllables in French, even if the French text is spelled out phonetically.
2. There are significantly more repeated pairs of symbols in the DCP text than there are repeated pairs of syllables in a Beaudelaire poem.

One possibility is that Debosnys is a boring poet who uses the same words over and over again, while Beaudelaire is an interesting poet who uses a broader vocabulary.

But another possibility is that the language of the poem isn't French, but Greek or Latin.

The other side of the page containing the DCP has a poem in Greek, which Klaus Schmeh mentions in his blog post. A reader of his blog transcribed the Greek poem and translated it into German. I searched for the Greek text and found that it is taken largely from a poem written by Thomas Moore as a preface to his Odes of Anacreon, though Debosnys drops a few lines.

Debosnys

Thomas Moore

Maybe there is some significance to the dropped lines, maybe not. In any case, Debosnys' Greek poem leaves off part-way through the text of Thomas Moore's original ode, with 20-21 lines remaining.

This raises the possibility that the cipher poem encodes the last 20 lines of the ode by Thomas Moore. If it does, it doesn't look like a straightforward cipher. More generally, this raises the possibility that the cipher poem encodes something in Greek, or perhaps in Latin.

End-rhyme is not a common feature of classical Greek or Latin poetry, so if there really is end-rhyme then this is more likely a composition by Debosnys.

19th Century Sténographie Française

One of the things that is impressive about the Debosnys cipher, if it encodes syllables, is the efficiency with which it does so. Most of the rhyming syllables require only three pen strokes to write the syllable.

Thinking about this has led me to read a bunch of 19th century French manuals on stenography, to get an idea of how a 19th-century francophone might have thought about efficiently encoding language.

A wide variety of stenographic systems seems to have blossomed in 19th-century France. The goal of stenography (as reiterated in many of the manuals) was to enable the user to write at the speed of speech. To this end, a number of compression strategies are used, among which the following three are quite common:

1. Compression by writing phonetically. For example, instead of writing ph, write f.
2. Compression by removing vowels. For example, remove all vowels except the initial and final ones, and remove the final vowel if it is e muet. So instead of writing sténographie française, write stngrfi frnçs.
3. Compression through the use of efficient alphabets. In addition to the use of curves and straight lines, these systems use spatial strategies such as direction and size to load each stroke with additional information.

Strategy #3 above seems to lead to a similar appearance in all of the scripts--an appearance reminiscent of Tironian notes--that is not present in the Debosnys cipher. While Debosnys might have used some spatial strategies (such as orientation) to encode information, he appears to have been more concerned with obfuscation than with efficiency.

The Stolze system of stenography originated in Prussia, but was adapted to French. It is interesting because it uses a phonetic approach, breaks down words syllabically, and encodes each syllable as a separate symbol. Of particular interest is the way in which it divides syllables:

In this system, the "primary syllable" of a word is identified, and one graph represents everything from the onset to the coda of that syllable. Subsequent "secondary" syllables are broken at the nucleus of the syllable, and so they represent only the rhyme. (Prefixes are handled in an analogous way).

So, instead of me-tal, we have met-al. In poem written using the Stolze system, all of the rhymes could be written with the same symbol, just as in the Debosnys poem.