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Cybersecurity, assurance, technology, identity, and life in my increasingly full-time girl-mode.

Major New Publication Series: Sophie Baskerville’s History of Cybersecurity

sophie @ baskerville.net ©️1977-2026 Sophie Baskerville

007 | Blanc Brothers Semaphore Telegraph Fraud


“When the Error Was the Message”

Optical telegraph operators signal from a tower while a telescope observer watches the next relay at sunset.
The Blanc brothers abused France’s optical telegraph by making the error signal carry the value.

A false signal on a tower is easy to dismiss.

A bit of weather. A tired operator. A mechanical wobble. A momentary error, corrected before the official message is written down and delivered.

Unless the error is the message.

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In 1834, the Blanc brothers found a way to abuse France’s optical telegraph network for financial gain. No computers. No packets. No malware. No hoodie, mercifully. Just semaphore towers, telescopes, bribed insiders, market information and a signalling system that recorded the polished message while discarding the interesting dirt.

It was not modern cybersecurity.

It was only modern cybersecurity in every way that matters.

The system they abused was the Chappe telegraph: a French optical network built from chains of towers. Each tower had a mechanical semaphore on top, with moving arms that could be set into different positions. Operators watched neighbouring towers through telescopes and copied the signals onward. A message rippled across the country by line of sight, tower to tower, human to human, mechanism to mechanism.[1]

This deserves a little respect. It was not a man waving flags from a hill while hoping for the best. The Chappe system was a national communications infrastructure. It used coded signals, trained operators, relay stations, procedures, correction points, government control and restricted access. The first Paris–Lille line was already working in the 1790s, and later lines spread across France. Stations were typically 10–15 km apart, meaning long messages travelled through many hands and many eyes before arriving.[1]

By 1823, the Paris–Bayonne line had opened with 110 stations. Bordeaux sat on this wider south-western route, and the path from Paris to Bordeaux ran through sectors such as Paris–Tours, Tours–Poitiers, Poitiers–Angoulême and Angoulême–Bordeaux. In practical terms, this was not one sender and one receiver. It was dozens of relay hops pretending to be a single channel, which is still the basic fantasy of networking if you squint hard enough.[2]

The network was for the state, not for private traders. That mattered because the Blanc brothers, François and Louis-Joseph Blanc, were financiers in Bordeaux. They traded government bonds, including the important French 3% rente. Market movements in Paris affected prices in Bordeaux, but the news travelled by post and took days to arrive. Anyone who learned the Paris closing price early could trade ahead of the Bordeaux market.

Information asymmetry had found a business model.

The Blancs tried faster routes. Couriers and pigeons were possible, but not enough. The Chappe network was better. It could move information across France vastly faster than the mail. Unfortunately for the brothers, it was not available to them. So they did what people with money and insufficient moral ballast often do: they bought access sideways.

The scheme involved accomplices at several points. A watcher in Paris learned whether the market had risen or fallen. That information was sent to Tours by ordinary means, reportedly using coded parcels such as gloves or stockings. At Tours, corrupt telegraph staff introduced a false signal into an official government message. Down the line near Bordeaux, a former telegraph operator, Pierre Renaud, watched the semaphore tower through a telescope, recognised the hidden signal and passed the information to the Blancs.[3]

Map shows the Paris-Bordeaux optical telegraph line, false signal injected at Tours and read near Bordeaux.
A false signal injected at Tours could be read near Bordeaux, then vanish from the official record.

The brilliance of the trick was that the official message did not need to carry the private message in its final written form.

The hidden information travelled as an error.

The Chappe system had correction procedures. A spurious signal could be followed by a correction signal, so that the final transcribed message ignored the mistake. To the authorised recipient, the dispatch arrived clean. To the accomplice watching the raw signal stream near Bordeaux, the “mistake” was visible before it vanished from the official output.[4]

Split panel contrasts a clean telegraph transcript with raw signal observations where a brief extra X hides market data.
The official transcript was clean; the covert signal lived in a discarded correction.

That is the bit to stare at.

The covert data was not in the record. It was in the gap between transmission and record.

Every security person who has ever discovered that logs capture the sanitised result but not the dangerous intermediate state may now make a small unhappy noise. The Blanc brothers exploited a difference between what the system did and what the system wrote down. That difference is where many incidents move in, unpack, and start forwarding mail.

This was not merely “using the telegraph illegally”. It was protocol abuse.

The visible official message was cover traffic. The deliberate error was a covert channel. The correction mechanism was concealment. The insider at Tours was the injection point. The observer at Bordeaux was the out-of-band receiver. The financial market was the monetisation layer. Honestly, the only thing missing is a conference talk with a logo and a naming dispute.

Tours mattered because it was a point where messages could be read and corrected. If the false signal had been inserted earlier, it risked being purged before it reached Bordeaux. French accounts of the trial explain that false signals introduced at Tours could pass onward through stations such as Poitiers and Angoulême, where operators relayed them without being able to read or correct the full dispatch.[5]

That is a lovely, horrible design detail. Some nodes could forward. Some could interpret. Some could correct. Some could merely copy. The exploit lived in that uneven distribution of authority.

Modern networks still have this problem. A router may forward what it cannot understand. A proxy may transform what it does not log. A load balancer may preserve a header nobody audits. A monitoring system may record the final request while missing the transient data that shaped behaviour upstream. A logging pipeline may faithfully preserve exactly the wrong thing, because computers are excellent at obedience and poor at suspicion.

There is a pleasing Discworld echo here, though the Blancs were less charming than Terry Pratchett’s Clacksmen and had fewer redeeming narrative qualities.

In Going Postal, Pratchett’s Clacks is a semaphore-like network whose “overhead” can carry operational instructions. The modern X-Clacks-Overhead tribute, inspired by that fictional system, uses an HTTP header to carry a memorial signal quietly through web infrastructure. The fictional GNU instruction means pass it on, do not log it, and return it at the end of the line.[6]

The Blanc brothers’ version was the grubby financial cousin: pass it on, do not let it appear in the final written dispatch, and make sure the right person is watching.

Less poetry. More bond fraud. Ker-ching.

The scheme worked for roughly two years, from 1834 to 1836. That matters too. It was not a noisy attack. It was an invisible advantage. The market did not collapse. The telegraph did not burst into flames. The official messages still arrived. The abuse hid inside normal operation, nicely camouflaged.

Eventually the affair unravelled after the death of one of the involved telegraph employees and the leaking of the secret. The resulting trial in Tours in 1837 exposed a problem familiar to anyone who has watched law chase technology with a net and a puzzled expression: the behaviour was plainly improper, but the law did not yet map cleanly onto the misuse of a data network. The Blancs escaped with limited consequences, while the affair helped push the law towards a state monopoly over telegraphic signalling.[7]

That legal uncertainty is part of why this belongs in the series. The system had access restrictions, but the offence was not yet conceptually ready. There was corruption, yes. There was market abuse, yes. There was unauthorised use of a communications network, obviously. But the legal vocabulary lagged behind the technical reality. Of course, that never happened again, ever. Oh wait…

About 150 years later, there is an echo in the UK Prestel case, where Robert Schifreen and Stephen Gold gained unauthorised access to BT’s Prestel viewdata system in 1984–85, including Prince Philip’s mailbox, before the Computer Misuse Act 1990 existed. The authorities knew perfectly well that something improper had happened, but the law had no clean offence for “unauthorised access to a computer”, so prosecutors tried to squash the behaviour into the Forgery and Counterfeiting Act 1981, arguing in effect that the altered internal state of the Prestel computer was a “false instrument”. That legal origami briefly produced convictions, then collapsed on appeal, with the House of Lords upholding the acquittals in 1988; the case became one of the prompts for Parliament to create explicit computer-misuse offences. The parallel with the Blanc brothers is neat: in both cases, the technology had created a new kind of abuse before the legal system had worked out what box to put it in, so the first response was to rummage through existing offences and hope one could be made to fit.[9][10]

The incentives were also depressingly modern. The Blancs did not exploit the network because they hated the French state or wanted to prove a point about protocol design. They exploited it because faster information made money. That is enough. It usually is.

The attack also shows why “availability” is not only about whether a network is up. The Chappe network was available to the government and unavailable to private citizens. The Blancs did not knock it offline; they parasitised its availability. They made a restricted public system serve a private trading interest. That is a very modern pattern: infrastructure built for one trust model quietly becoming a platform for someone else’s advantage.

And some very up-to-date research has just been published (May/June 2026) revealing that the GPS signal has been carrying over-the-air cryptographic key updates for nearly 20 years. The article is a delight; describes the analysis carried out on an unknown-use field (using the entire recorded history of GPS transmissions), which is very relevant to this series. Every GPS satellite is a numbers station. The receivers were always listening. We just had not been.[11]

The attribution story is worth handling carefully.

The name on the scam is the Blanc brothers, because financiers have a way of getting their names attached to both profits and scandals. But the fraud depended on operational people: station operators, directors, former operators, couriers, watchers, clerks and the people who maintained the tower system in all weathers. RetroNews names several figures who appear in the trial story, including Guibout, Lucas, Cailleteau, Bourgoing and Pierre Renaud. They are not decorative extras. They are the working parts of the incident.[8]

The Blanc brothers fraud belongs in cybersecurity history because it is an early example of a system being abused according to its own rules.

No cipher was broken. No lock was picked. The attackers found the seam between signal and record, between relay and interpretation, between official use and private incentive. They used insiders. They used protocol features. They used missing auditability. They used the fact that errors were expected, corrected and then forgotten. A glorious edge-case.

The official message arrived intact.

The hidden message arrived first.

And the log, such as it was, politely looked the other way.

Sophie Baskerville signature in purple

References

[1] Engineering and Technology History Wiki, “France Builds Visual Telegraph”, for Chappe system mechanics, signal positions, code book structure, tower spacing and operators. (ETHW)

[2] Conservatoire du patrimoine orgerois, “Les grandes dates de la télégraphie aérienne”, for Paris–Bayonne opening with 110 stations in 1823, plus later network milestones. (Conservatoire du patrimoine orgerois)

[3] Tom Standage, “The crooked timber of humanity”, republished by International Times, for the Blanc brothers’ market motive, use of the Chappe network, deliberate errors, correction/backspace trick, Bordeaux observer and legal aftermath. (internationaltimes.it)

[4] RetroNews / BnF, “L’Affaire des télégraphes”, for the French trial narrative, named participants, coded parcels, Tours correction point, false signals, trial result and later legal response. (RetroNews – Le site de presse de la BnF)

[5] Later tower list for the Paris–Bayonne line, useful only as route context rather than primary authority, showing sectors from Paris to Tours, Tours to Poitiers, Poitiers to Angoulême and Angoulême to Bordeaux. (Wikipedia)

[6] XClacksOverhead.org and the WordPress GNU Terry Pratchett plugin page, for the Going Postal / Clacks / X-Clacks-Overhead connection and the “do not log” overhead idea. (X-Clacks-Overhead)

[7] RetroNews / BnF, “L’Affaire des télégraphes”, for the 1837 Tours trial, the difficulty of fitting the Blanc brothers’ conduct into existing law, the limited legal consequences, and the later tightening of state control over telegraphic signalling. (RetroNews – Le site de presse de la BnF)

[8] RetroNews / BnF, “L’Affaire des télégraphes”, for the named participants in the affair and trial narrative, including Guibout, Lucas, Cailleteau, Bourgoing and Pierre Renaud. (RetroNews – Le site de presse de la BnF)

[9] R v Gold and Schifreen [1988] AC 1063, House of Lords, for the Prestel unauthorised access case, the attempted use of the Forgery and Counterfeiting Act 1981, the Court of Appeal quashing the convictions, and the House of Lords upholding the acquittal. (Swarb case summary)

[10] Lawtons Solicitors, “What is the Computer Misuse Act?”, for the later significance of R v Gold & Schifreen and the gap in UK law before the Computer Misuse Act 1990. (Lawtons Solicitors)

[11] “The Empty Field That Wasn’t: GPS, OTAD and Two Decades of Encrypted Broadcasts” published May/June 2026 edition of “Inside GNSS+”, pp 62-68 (lsc-pagepro.mydigitalpublication.com)