The decipherment of Linear B was described by Michael Ventris in the first two chapters of our joint book, Documents in Mycenaean Greek (Cambridge University Press, 1956). This is an attempt to present that story to the general reader, so it omits many of the technical details to be found there; on the other hand, the vital steps in the decipherment are here explained in more detail, and much of the background which is unfamiliar to the general reader is filled in. In particular I have, by the kindness of Mrs Ventris, been able to make use of letters, notes, and other material from Ventris' files. My own file of letters between us, at times two or three a week, has been the chief source for the history of the subject after the first break in 1952. This has allowed me to round out the bare account by the inclusion of personal reminiscences and other details, much indeed that but for the tragic accident of Ventris' death would probably have remained unpublished; for his overwhelming modesty would have prevented me from writing the eulogy which I, and all his colleagues in this field, feel is his due. I had, however, his permission and encouragement to write a book on this subject; I hope it will be a worthy tribute to his memory.

Readers who are familiar with Greek, and even some who are not, may feel inclined to pursue the subject further.

The urge to discover secrets is deeply ingrained in human nature; even the least curious mind is roused by the promise of sharing knowledge withheld from others. Some are fortunate enough to find a job which consists in the solution of mysteries, whether it be the physicist who tracks down a hitherto unknown nuclear particle or the policeman who detects a criminal. But most of us are driven to sublimate this urge by the solving of artificial puzzles devised for our entertainment. Detective stories or crossword puzzles cater for the majority; the solution of secret codes may be the hobby of a few. This is the story of the solving of a genuine mystery which had baffled experts for half a century.

In 1936 a fourteen-year-old schoolboy was among a party who visited Burlington House in London to see an exhibition organized to mark the fiftieth anniversary of the British School of Archaeology at Athens. They heard a lecture by the grand old man of Greek archaeology, Sir Arthur Evans; he told them of his discovery of a long forgotten civilization in the Greek island of Crete, and of the mysterious writing used by this fabulous people of prehistory. In that hour a seed was planted that was dramatically to bear fruit sixteen years later; for this boy was already keenly interested in ancient scripts and languages. At the age of seven he had bought and studied a German book on the Egyptian hieroglyphs.

So far this account of Linear B has deliberately reproduced the chaotic state of our knowledge up to the end of the Second World War. It is now time to give a clear and detailed analysis of the script as it appeared to the investigators who began a fresh attack on it at this period. We must, however, begin with some preliminary observations on the nature of the problem and the methods which can be applied.

There is an obvious resemblance between an unreadable script and a secret code; similar methods can be employed to break both. But the differences must not be overlooked. The code is deliberately designed to baffle the investigator; the script is only puzzling by accident. The language underlying the coded text is ordinarily known; in the case of a script there are three separate possibilities. The language may be known or partially known, but written in an unknown script; this, for instance, was the case with the decipherment of the Old Persian inscriptions by the German scholar Grotefend in 1802; the cuneiform signs were then quite unknown, but the language, as revealed by recognition of proper names, turned out to be largely intelligible through the medium of the Avestan texts. Secondly, the script may be known, the language unknown.