The Strange Journey of Howard Vyse – Part I: Origin of a Forgery Plan

Link to Part II

Link to Part III

Link to Part IV

Link to Part V

The Secret Devices of the Devious Vyse

In recent times, author and commentator Scott Creighton has tirelessly continued to promote his proposal that explorer and antiquarian Col. Howard Vyse, having allegedly broken into the relieving chambers of the Great Pyramid, had proceeded to forge on the walls the cartouche name of King Khufu, presumed builder of the 4,500-year-old monument, in order to falsely claim that he (Vyse) had made a great discovery. ⁱ Creighton therefore devotes a good deal of time and attention to the schemes that the Colonel allegedly thought up for putting the plan into action; and, by inference, when and why Vyse first conceived this scheme.

In an online forum, Creighton suggests that, while at Giza, Vyse set about gathering material to help with the forgery when he discovered various examples of the name of Khufu on pieces of stone lying round about the pyramid. Creighton explains:

Consulting Rosellini’s book (which he had with him at Giza in 1837), Vyse could not have failed to notice that both cartouches he was finding in the rubble piles present the name ‘Saophis’ … ⁱⁱ

To cut a lengthy ratiocination very short, Creighton claims that Vyse used these supposed cartouches to copy from when he was inserting forgeries in the relieving chambers. Elsewhere, Creighton writes that it was known in Vyse’s time that the name just mentioned – Saophis I – was the name of the king who built the Great Pyramid. ⁱⁱⁱ

Over the millennia, the name widely known today as Khufu was written in various different ways, depending on the era, geographical region, and language. Cheops is the Greek form; it has also been written as, e.g., Sciufo, Shofo, Suphis, etc. The name “Suphis” was the one used by the 3^rd century BC Egyptian priest, Manetho, “Saophis” being a minor variant. ^iv And, as Vyse noted after his return to England, the Italian scholar Rosellini was the first to correctly assign the cartouche name of Khufu to the monarch known as Cheops or Suphis. ^v

However, Creighton believes that Vyse gathered information even before embarking on his nefarious forgery activities, and that:

I think it’s fair to say, Vyse did possess an interest in Egyptian hieroglyphics … we now know from his private journal that he bought books by Champollion and Rosellini (at considerable expense.) Presumably he had an interest in hieroglyphics even at this early stage. ^vi

“Our first [B]books …”

In The Great Pyramid Void Enigma, ^vii Creighton provides more detail for his readers about the apparent purchase of books by Rosellini and Champollion recorded in Vyse’s diary. ^viii Creighton explains how:

… in his private journal entry of October 18, 1836, Vyse writes the following short passage:

Wrote notes from the Quarterly Review abt: Rosellini & Champollion, our first books, 69 dollars 14.7.6. in half crowns. ^ix

Creighton states that the issue of The Quarterly Review in question had appeared in the spring of 1835, some months before Vyse’s departure from England. He takes his interpretation of Vyse’s journal as evidence of the following sequence of events:

… it seems that Vyse did, in fact, read this Quarterly Review article … and that he did go on to purchase Rosellini’s book, which would have lead [sic] him to find the hieroglyphic spelling of Suphis/Khufu … ^x

But this is all the detail that his readers are given. There is no mention of any context, or of Vyse’s whereabouts on this particular day in October 1836. Does Creighton believe that Vyse had waited some eighteen months since publication of The Quarterly Review before purchasing these books? Whenever he acquired them, the Colonel seems to have paid a very high price:

The amount Vyse paid for these books by Rosellini and Champollion, 14 pounds, 7 shillings, and 6 pence (paid with 115 half-crown coins) … in today’s terms (accounting for inflation), [this would have amounted to] around £1,650 or around $2,000. ^xi

Nevertheless, bearing in mind the publication dates, it is not impossible that Vyse had acquired a copy of one of Champollion’s works even before the appearance of The Quarterly Review. The same could be said of Rosellini’s I monumenti dell’Egitto e della Nubia (Part 1, Volume 1), published in 1832, the year of Champollion’s death, which Vyse could perhaps have obtained during a time when he was in Italy.

Prosciutto, Prosecco and the Palazzo Paterno

Some four years previously, on 26^th October 1832, impecunious author and Classicist Sir William Gell sat down in his Naples villa to write a long, witty and gossipy letter to his friend, Lady Blessington. Whilst reflecting wryly on such matters as incipient baldness and the financial difficulties perennially besetting authors in search of a publisher, he remarked in passing that:

A family of Colonel Vyse have settled in the Palazzo Paterno, one of the most agreeable that ever came to Naples, in my opinion. They are numerous, but seem to be rich, so as to have all in due proportion. ^xii

A few months later, Gell must have been thanking his lucky stars that, of all places in Italy, the wealthy Vyse had chosen to pitch up at Naples. The two men had discovered a shared interest in ancient history, and Vyse was so impressed by a work that Gell had written on Roman topography that he offered to advance the struggling author £100, a third of the sum required, towards its publication. ⁱ

At today’s prices, that would have represented some £6,000.

What was more, Vyse wasn’t even all that bothered about whether he saw the money back again, as Sir William jubilantly explained to his correspondent Hamilton:

He is to have the first profits if you agree finally with Murray though he says he is indifferent even as to that. ⁱⁱ

adding:

… he never insisted on any return for his 100£ ⁱⁱⁱ

So that was what Vyse was prepared to contribute for a work he considered worthy of publication – even if it made a loss.

But what had brought him to Naples in the first place? And what, if anything, did it have to do with his later visit to Egypt?

As we know, the Colonel was a wealthy landowner and retired military man with a deep interest in ancient history. By this time, he was in his late forties, and there was no reason why, if he wanted, he should not have taken his wife and eight of his ten children to winter in a picturesque part of Europe covered in ancient Roman ruins and sites of archaeological interest.

Still, that might not have been the sole reason for the journey.

Back in England, numerous political and social problems were slowly coming to the boil. Despite the opposition of some diehard Tories, including the King’s brother, the Duke of Cumberland, ^iv the Reform Bill had finally passed in June 1832, but not without much social unrest and protest – known as the Days of May – when the Tories tried to block it. During this time, it did not seem wholly improbable that Great Britain might suffer the sort of revolution that had taken place in France at the end of the previous century, with similar consequences. Possibly, then, it was not solely the allure of Classical archaeology and history, and the pleasant climate and Italian cuisine, that led Vyse to beat a discreet retreat to Italy during the winter of 1831-2. ^v

Vyse appears to have passed much of 1833 at Naples, though he returned to England for at least part of that summer; but was certainly back again by autumn 1834, breakfasting with Gell on 9^th September.

And, at that breakfast, he had something interesting to show Gell, as Gell later informed one of his correspondents:

… in a book [he] showed me a sort of advertisement for your work on Egypt which promises so much that it would be quite a treasure if you could ever publish it, & nobody but you has the knowledge necessary. ^vi

Star-crossed Lovers

The two eldest Vyse children, George (1812-1890) and Richard (1813-1872), meanwhile, had not accompanied their parents to Italy: they had already begun a career in the army (in 1833, Richard, Vyse’s second son, was to become a lieutenant by purchase in the 15th King’s Light Dragoons). ^vii

Towards the end of 1832, when the Colonel himself and the rest of the family were still away in Naples, George and Richard met some friends, the Seymours. One of them, the Rev. Richard Seymour (1806-1880), ^viii was keeping a diary, in which he made frequent references to his family, including his sister, Elizabeth (ca. 1815-1892), to whom he fondly refers as “Dearest Lizzy.” Richard’s entry for 20^th December reads:

Heard from George Vyse – hardly know what to make of his mention of my dear sister —

Evidently, Lizzy had made an impression on George Vyse: but, for some reason, alarm-bells already seemed to be sounding in Richard’s mind. Just over a fortnight later, his entry for 6^th January 1833 reads:

Heard of [George Howard Vyse]’s attachment to dear Liz wrote to Col:l Vyse – I heartily trust this may end happily: but I have my fears —

A month later, on 3^rd February, evidently still fearing the worst while hoping for the best, he writes:

Returned here late last night, after spending the week at my dear home at Portsmouth – Much anxiety respecting my dear … sister’s engagement to [Vyse] but all I trust will now end & happily.

But, just over a week later, on 14^th February, St. Valentine’s Day, the bombshell that Richard seems to have been dreading finally dropped:

Letter from George V: {Vyse} which caused me much pain & even tears: his Father refuses his consent to his marriage with dear L. {Lizzy} in the most positive terms …

Yet Lizzy Seymour, though not by any means an heiress and not a member of the aristocracy, was evidently a pleasant lady from a respected family whose heroic members had served their country faithfully and well. So why was the Colonel – who had himself fallen in love with his future wife on seeing her as Miranda in an amateur version of The Tempest – so unaccountably refusing his consent to the son of his own love-match?

And why did Richard’s heart sink when he saw the deepening attachment between Lizzy and George?

One possible explanation might lie in Howard Vyse’s relationship with one of the brothers of the previous King, George IV: namely, the Duke of Cumberland.

Link to Part II

i The idea was first proposed by Zechariah Sitchin in the early 1980s.

ii #191. “Saophis” was a variant name of Khufu. At one time, Champollion and Rosellini thought that it corresponded to “Suphis,” the name by which Khufu was known to the 3^rd century BC chronologists, Manetho and Eratosthenes. (See also Analysis of the Painted ‘Quarry Marks’ within the Stress Relieving Chambers of the Great Pyramid of Giza [2024]; Scott Creighton.)

iii The Great Pyramid Void Enigma (2021): Appendix 1.

iv It also forms part of the name “Sensaophis,” recorded by the the 2^nd century BC historian Apollodorus, basing himself on Eratosthenes. In 1837, however, many people, including Rosellini, believed that this meant “Brother of Suphis”. It took eagle-eyed pioneer Egyptologist Richard Lepsius (collaborating with Samuel Birch), whilst researching in a Paris library, to discover that “Sensaophis” was simply a copyist’s error, and that there was no such name, as he went on to describe in his 1839 paper, “Lettre au Traducteur sur les Inscriptions de la Grande Pyramide.” In Éclaircissements sur le cercueil du roi memphite Mycérinus, tr. de l’angl. [of S. Birch] et accompagnés de notes par C. Lenormant, suivis d’une lettre sur les inscriptions de la grande pyramide de Gizeh, par M. Lepsius, by Carl Richard Lepsius and Samuel Birch, translated by Charles Lenormant, 44-48. (See also Appendix 9, “The mysterious brother of Khufu”, in Stower & Coburn [2019]:The Strange Journey of Humphries Brewer: II.)

v Operations I: 280.  See also Rosellini, Monumenti Pt. I, Vol. 1, 1832: 128-129; [317] Plate I, no. 2.

vi #275: “ … he bought books by Champollion and Rosellini (at considerable expense) … ” See also Creighton 2024: 7.

vii Inner Traditions, 2021.

viii National Archives: Buckinghamshire Archives –D 121/2

ix Creighton 2021: Appendix 1.

x Creighton 2021: Appendix 1.

xi Creighton 2021: Appendix 1.

xii Madden, Richard Robert (1855), The literary life and correspondence of the Countess of Blessington: 68.

xiii Gell to Hamilton, received 16 March 1833 (Dilettanti, Society of, ed. 1976. Sir William Gell in Italy: letters to the Society of Dilettanti, 1831-1835. London: Hamilton: 94-5). Gell to Hamilton, 25 Mar 1835. (The book was Gell, Sir William [1834], The topography of Rome and its vicinity. 2 vols.) London: Saunders & Otley.)

xiv Gell to Hamilton, 14 and 18 March 1833 (Gell in Italy: 98).

xv Gell to Hamilton, 12 May 1833 (Gell in Italy: 118).

xvi Bird: 225.

xvii He was in Rome in mid-January 1832 (Bullettino dell’Instituto di corrispondenza archeologica, Volume 3. 1831: 208), so had perhaps travelled to Italy as early as the preceding autumn.

xviii Thompson, Jason (1992), Sir Gardner Wilkinson and His Circle: 136.

xix London Gazette

xx See also here.