An Enigmatic Letter

In 1614, William Nealson, a trader in Japan for the British East India Company, wrote to his friend Richard Wickham. The first half of the letter is sensible enough, and Nealson notes that his associate Mr. Cocks has already written to Wickham, “wherein he hath informed you of all business, so as for me to write thereof should be but a tedious iteration.” But then he writes “Now to the purpose” and seems to go mad:

Concerning our domestic affairs, we live well and contentedly, and believe me, if you were here, I could think we were and should be a happy company, without strife or brawling. Of late I caught a great cold for want of bedstaves, but I have taken order for falling into the like inconveniences. For first, to recover my former health, I forgot not, fasting, a pot of blue burning ale with a fiery flaming toast and after (for recreation’s sake) provided a long staff with a pike in the end of it to jump over joined stools with. Hem.

Notwithstanding I may sing honononera, for my trade is quite decayed. Before I had sale for my nails faster than I could make them, but now they lie on my hand. For my shoes none will sell, because long lying abed in the morning saves shoe leather, and driving of great nails puts my small nails quite out of request, yea, even with my best customer; so that where every day he had wont to buy his dozen nails in the morning, I can scarcely get his custom once in two or three. Well this world will mend one day, but beware the grey mare eat not the grinding stone. I have had two satirical letters about this matter from Mr. Peacock, which pleased him as little as me, but I think he is so paid home at his own weapon as he will take better heed how he carp without cause. It was not more to me, but broader to Mr. Cocks. I know the parties which I speak of you would gladly know; for your satisfaction herein I cannot make you know mine, because I think you never see her; but I think God made her a woman and I a W. For the other, it is such a one as hardly or no I know you would not dream of. But yet for exposition of this riddle, construe this: all is not cuckolds that wear horns. Read this reversed, Ab dextro ad sinistro. O I G N I T A M. What, man! what is the matter? methinks you make crosses. For never muse on the matter; it is true. I am now grown poetical.

He that hath a high horse may get a great fall;
And he that hath a deaf boy, loud may he call;
And he that hath a fair wife, sore may he dread
That he get other folks’ brats to foster and to feed.

Is this code? Nealson closes by warning “Be not a blab of your tongue” and urges Wickham to destroy “whatever I write you of henceforward.” Are these inside jokes, or references to forgotten poems or songs? William Foster includes the letter without comment in his collection of correspondence received by the company. I haven’t been able to learn anything more about Nealson, or about this seeming oddity. I found it in Giles Milton’s Nathaniel’s Nutmeg (2012).

| Oddities

To Be Clear

Modern punctuation doesn’t always do the job, so writers have suggested various improvements. In the 1580s, English printer Henry Denham proposed a “percontation point,” ⸮, to be used at the end of a rhetorical question. In 1668, Anglican clergyman John Wilkins suggested using an inverted exclamation point, ¡, for the same purpose.

In the 1840s, Belgian newspaper publisher Marcellin Jobard introduced a small arrow whose orientation might indicate irony, irritation, indignation, or hesitation.

In 1899, French poet Alcanter de Brahm suggested a point d’ironie to indicate that a sentence was ironic or sarcastic:

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ironie-Larousse-1897-p329.png

And in a 1966 essay, French writer Hervé Bazin proposed (left to right) the irony point, the doubt point, the conviction point, the acclamation point, the authority point, and the love point:

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Proposed_punctuation_marks

None of these has caught on, but the interrobang, ‽, introduced in 1962 by Martin Speckter to denote a question expressed in an exclamatory manner, is still included in many fonts.

More at Type Talk.

| Language

Ghost Leg

Ghost leg is a method of establishing random pairings between any two sets of equal size. For example, it might be used to assign chores randomly to a group of people. The names of the participants are listed across the top of the diagram and the chores across the bottom, and a vertical line is drawn connecting each name to the chore below it. Then the names are concealed and each participant adds a “leg” to the diagram. A leg is a segment that connects two adjacent vertical lines (it must not touch any other horizontal line).

When the legs have been drawn, the names are revealed and a path drawn from each name to the bottom of the diagram. Each path must follow each leg that it encounters, jumping to the adjacent vertical line and continuing downward. When it reaches a chore at the bottom, it establishes a link between a name and a chore.

The benefit of this method is that it will work for groups of any size, reliably establishing a 1:1 correspondence between their elements. And it will work no matter how many horizontal lines are added. In Japanese it’s known as amidakuji.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Amidakuji_en.svg

| Science & Math

Magic Square Hereabouts

sallows non-atomic square

From Lee Sallows:

A feature common to many geomagic squares is that the set of shapes they employ reveal an atomic structure. That is, they are built up from repeated copies of a single unit shape. Examples of this are piece sets composed of polyominoes, the unit shape then being a (relatively small) square.

For the would-be geomagic square constructor, a key advantage of the atomic property is that the shapes concerned are each describable in terms of the positions of their constituent atoms. Or, to put it another way, they can be represented by a set of numbers. Hence, unlike non-atomic shapes, they are readily amenable to analysis and manipulation by computer.

Take, for example, an algorithm able to identify and list each of the different ways in which a given planar shape can be tiled by some specified set of smaller shapes. Such a program might be challenging to write, but provided the pieces concerned are composed of repeated units, implementation ought to be straightforward. But could the same be said in the case of non-atomic pieces? Without a set of numbers to describe piece shapes, how are they to be represented in a digital computer?

This is worth noting since, as inspection will show, the shapes employed in the square above are plainly non-atomic. In line with this I can confirm that the only computer program involved in deriving this solution was a vector graphics editor used to create the drawing seen above.

(Thanks, Lee.)

| Science & Math

Pastiche

The Journal International de Médecine carried a startling article in 1987: “Mise en Évidence Expérimentale d’une Organisation Tomatotopique chez la Soprano,” or “Experimental Demonstration of the Tomatotopic Organization in the Soprano (Cantatrix sopranica L.).” In it, author Georges Perec notes that throwing tomatoes at sopranos seems to induce a “yelling reaction” and sets out to understand why:

Tomatoes (Tomato rungisia vulgaris) were thrown by an automatic tomatothrower (Wait & See, 1972) monitored by an all-purpose laboratory computer (DID/92/85/P/331) operated on-line. Repetitive throwing allowed up to 9 projections per sec, thus mimicking the physiological conditions encountered by Sopranoes and other Singers on stage (Tebaldi, 1953). … Control experiments were made with other projectiles, as apple cores, cabbage runts, hats, roses, pumpkins, bullets, and ketchup (Heinz, 1952).

The paper concludes:

It has been shown above that tomato throwing provokes, along with a few other motor, visual, vegetative and behavioral reactions, neuronal responses in 3 distinctive brain areas: the nucleus anterior reticular thalami, pars lateralis (NARTpl), the anterior portion of the tractus leguminosus (apTL) and the dorsal part of the so-called musical sulcus (scMS).

It ends with an incomprehensible diagram modeling the anatomical organization of the yelling reaction. No practical advice is offered the sopranos.

10/18/2024 UPDATE: It appears that Perec wrote the piece originally in 1974 while working as a scientific archivist in the laboratory of neuroscientist André Hugelin. It was Perec’s contribution to a special volume presented to neurophysiologist Marthe Bonvallet on her retirement. (Thanks, Frederic and Bruce.)

| Humor · Science & Math

Black and White

angelini retrograde problem 1

A logic problem in the shape of a chess puzzle, by Éric Angelini. White has just moved. What was his move?

Click for Answer
| Puzzles

Rule of Thumb

https://books.google.com/books?id=0t7ZiYKV1KQC

Peter Nicholson’s Carpenter’s New Guide of 1803 contains an interesting technique:

To find a right line equal to any given Arch of a Circle. Divide the chord ab into four equal parts, set one part bc on the arch from a to d, and draw dc which will be nearly equal to half the arch.

Apparently this was an item of carpentry lore in 1803. In the figure above, if arc ad = bc, then cd is approximately half of arc length ab.

Nicholson warns that this works best for relatively short arcs: “This method should not be used above a quarter of a circle, so that if you would find the circumference of a whole circle by this method, the fourth part must only be used, which will give one eighth part of the whole exceedingly near.”

But with that proviso it works pretty well — in 1981 University of Essex mathematician Ian Cook found that for arcs up to a quadrant of a circle, the results show a maximum percentage error of 0.6 percent, “which I suppose can be said to be ‘exceedingly near.'” He adds, “[I]t would be of interest to know who discovered this construction.”

(Ian Cook, “Geometry for a Carpenter in 1800,” Mathematical Gazette 65:433 [October 1981], 193-195.)

| Science & Math

“The Only Will Ever Written in Shorthand”

https://books.google.com/books?id=D-czJhHzdcgC&pg=PA446

An 1897 article on curious wills in the Strand describes this 1813 will by the Rev. Hugh Worthington of Highbury Place, Islington. One side reads:

Northampton Square, June 16th, 1813. I, Hugh Worthington, give and bequeath to my dear Eliza Price, who is my adopted child, all I do or may possess, real and personal, to be at her sole and entire disposal; and I do appoint William Kent, Esq., of London Wall, my respected friend, with the said Eliza Price to execute this my last will and testament. — HUGH WORTHINGTON.

The other reads:

Most dearly beloved, my Eliza. Very small as this letter is, it contains the copy of my very last will. I have put it with your letters, that it may be sure to fall into your hands. Should accident or any other cause destroy the original, I have taken pains to write this very clearly, that you may read it easily. I do know you will perfect yourself in shorthand for my sake. Tomorrow we go for Worthing, I most likely never to return. I hope to write a few lines to express the best wishes, and prayers, and hopes of thy true, HUGH WORTHINGTON.

| Death · Oddities