- Dr. Gerhard F.

Strasser –

Samuel Zimmermann’s Gehaimnusse—The Earliest Cryptological Book in German

1. Preliminaries
Centuries before the decryption of the infamous 1917 “Zimmermann Telegram(m)” by the
cryptologists of “Room 40” of the British Admiralty’s intelligence services turned the
name Zimmermann into a household word in cryptological circles another Zimmermann
was the first to discuss secret communication in a German book. Little is known about
this 16th-century namesake: Samuel Zimmermann (1537-15 ) was a “burgher” of the city
of Augsburg, and according to his coat of arms (Ill. 1) in the cryptological work that will
be the focus of this analysis was a master gunner or engineer, possibly in the service of
this city.1 In 1569 he edited an important work of Paracelsus von Hohenheim, one of the
leading medical doctors of the 16th century: Under the pseudonym of “Samuel
Architectus” he published Von der Bergsucht oder Bergkranckheiten2, which dealt with
debilitating mining diseases and even discussed the impact of mercury or quicksilver and
arsenic on the workers down in the mines. A few years later, in 1573, Zimmermann—now
using his real name—authored a Probierbu°ch3, a detailed manual describing alchemical

1
The coat of arms follows the separate title page of the cryptological publication in question, Etliche
fürtreffentliche Gehaimnussen, verborgne, Mechanische, Apocryphische, vnd gleichsam vbernatürliche
Künsten, das Lesen und die Schreiberey betreffendt (Sundry Exquisite Secrets concerning concealed,
mechanical, apocryphical and virtually supernatural arts concerning reading and writing). This material—not
separately paginated—follows on pp. 107-167 of New Titularbüech: Das ist, Wie man ainer Jeden Person
[…] zuschreiben soll […], wie sie dieser zeit im Leben seind (New Book of Forms of Address, i.e., How to
write to any person […] currently alive). Ingolstadt: Published by the Author, printed by David Sartorius
1579. URL: http://digital.onb.ac.at/OnbViewer/viewer.faces?doc=ABO_%2BZ17833210X (accessed
03/03/2015). A coat of arms on p. 108 (see Ill. 1) shows the torso of a bearded man whose head is decorated
with a garland of flowers. In his raised right hand he carries a fireball, in his raised left one a compass and a
square. This same man features in the decoration of the helmet in between two buffalo horns. Similar coats
of arms are documented in Augsburg as belonging to the Zimmermann family. See Rainer Leng: Ars belli.
Deutsche taktische und kriegstechnische Bilderhandschriften und Traktate im 15. und 16. Jahrhundert. 2
vols. Imagines Medii Aevi 12/1+2.Vol. I: Entstehung und Entwicklung. Wiesbaden: Reichert 2002, 353-358,
especially p. 353.

2
Full title: Theophrasti Paracelsi von Hohenheim, beyder Artzney Doctor […]. Von der Bergsucht oder
Bergkranckheiten drey Bücher […]. Dillingen: Mayer 1567. See Pamela O. Long: “The Openness of Knowledge:
An Ideal and Its Context in 16th-Century Writings on Mining and Metallurgy.” In: Technology and Culture 32, No. 2,
Part 1 (April, 1991), 318-355, here pp. 344-346.

3
Full title: Probierbu°ch: Auf alle Metall Müntz, Ertz und berckwerck, Deßgleichen auff Edel Gestain […].
Allen Jungen Müntzmaistern, Goldschmiden […] beschriben (Assayers’ Handbook, described for all young
moneyers, goldsmiths […] in regard to all metal coins, ores and mines). Augsburg: Manger 1573. URL:
http://daten.digitale-sammlungen.de/bsb00028816/image_5 (accessed 03/03/2015). - Between 1578 and 1580,
a book bearing a similar title but with a somewhat different content, Probierbüchlin […] by the late Cyriacus

1
means of assaying all kinds of metals and precious stones for the benefit of moneyers or
mint-masters, goldsmiths, and the like. The famous Bibliotheca Palatina in Heidelberg
contains an autograph manuscript of Zimmermann’s, written in the same year and dealing
with yet another related topic: Dialogus4 is a dialogue between a gunsmith and a pyrobolist
or pyrotechnic specialist on the art and the proper use of firearms and fireworks. At a time
when printing was becoming more commonplace Zimmermann adopted a system found in
the distribution of print publications: He featured as the author, writer and “publisher” of
the same manuscript and clearly targeted court libraries as recipients of the dozen or so
copies that he produced—in the case of the piece preserved at the Bibliotheca Palatina its
recipient, Ludwig VI, Prince Elector of the Palatinate, kept the book-like copy in his
private library that Zimmermann had had beautifully bound and embossed. Dialogus is
also interesting as its author adopted a unique model among the manuals of this kind: He
clothed his detailed technical knowledge “in a literary and mythological world of
lightening-and-thunder ghosts, hell and volcanoes, dragons and fiery goddesses, which
was exceedingly exciting,” Rainer Leng writes, “but was unsuccessful in the long run.”
Dialogus featured in many famous book collections but was hardly used when compared
with the more informative though also more tedious other manuscripts and books for
gunsmiths or armorers.

Six years after Probierbu°ch and Dialogus had appeared Zimmermann published the New
Titularbüech. Judging by the vast array of forms of address listed on the first one hundred
pages of this book Zimmermann must have been in contact with enough higher and lower
nobility (though probably not with the Pope, whose manner of address opens up the
register) to consider himself qualified to produce more than just an update to comparable
collections, as he stated in his preface.5 Nonetheless this first part of the New Titularbüech
is not relevant to an analysis of the author’s subsequent cryptological materials.

Schreit(t)mann appeared in Frankfurt and Augsburg; the claim that it was edited by Zimmermann cannot be
verified, though.
4
Full title: Dialogvs Oder Gesprach zwaÿer Personen nemblich aines Buchsenmaisters mit ainem
Fewrwerckher von der khunst vnd rechtem Gebrauch des Buchsengeschoss vnd Fewrwerckhs. Augsburg,
December 9, 1573. Universitätsbibliothek Heidelberg, Cod. Pal. Germ. 258. 162 pages. URL:
http://digi.ub.uni-heidelberg.de/diglit/cpg258 (accessed 03/03/2015). For the following see Leng (Ars belli,
see fn. 1), I, 357-358.

5
Zimmermann, Titularbüech (see fn. 1), p. B i r°.

2
 2. The Second, Cytological Part of the New Titularbüech, the Separate Section Titled
Etliche fürtreffentliche Gehaimnusse

2.1. Zimmermann’s Own Authorial Position

The Titularbüech suggests Zimmermann’s good connections among the higher and lesser
nobility, which in part may result from the great esteem that specialists such as master
gunners or military engineers enjoyed in their respective communities. Their military
success could well single-handedly determine the outcome of a skirmish or battle—“Man
Mag vnd kan durch sie gewynnen und verlieren” (one may and can win or lose with them),
Franz Helm wrote in the manuscript of his 1535 manual for gunners that exists in more
than 60 copies.6 However, at a time when belief in witchcraft and popular superstition
reigned supreme overt professional success of master gunners became suspect: In mid-15th
century a gunner whose experience was so great as not only to fire three shots from his
canon in one day but to actually hit the target was supposed to embark on a pilgrimage to
Rome in order to escape the suspicion of black magic.7 Zimmermann, however, no longer
shares this view—one hundred years later, in his Dialogus,8 he sees the invention of
gunpowder as “certainly having been made within the Lord’s providence” and considers
firearms the just weapon to punish hitherto well-protected “tyrannical knights in armor.”
Thus the firearm, in itself a “Türanisch Instrument”, as he concedes, a tyrannical weapon,
can be used for good purposes just as much as any other evil thing—and indeed he lists
this punishment as his explicit professional goal. Like other writers of such manuals
Zimmermann must have been well aware of the dangers of his profession: A 1587
appendix to Franz Helm’s earlier Buch contains a list of 36 master gunners from
Augsburg, Zimmermann’s own city, who left for “Vngerlant”—and at least one third of
them lost their lives in Hungary in the never-ending wars with the Turks.9

6
Franz Helm: Ein Buch Zusammen gezogenn auß vilen Brobierten kunsten. The Heidelberg copy (also from the
Palatina) is quoted in Rainer Leng: “Gründe für berufliches Töten. Büchsenmeister und Kriegshauptleute
zwischen Berufsethos und Gewissensnot”. In: Horst Brunner, ed. Der Krieg im Mittelalter und in der Frühen
Neuzeit: Gründe, Begründungen, Bilder, Bräuche, Recht. Imagines Medii Aevi 3. Wiesbaden: Reichert 1999,
307-348, here pp. 316, 318-319 and 339.
7
Volker Schmidtchen: Bombarden, Befestigungen, Büchsenmeister. Eine Studie zur Entwicklung der Militärtechnik.
Düsseldorf: Droste 1977, 44, quoted in Leng, “Gründe für berufliches Töten” (s. fn. 6), p. 318.
8
Dialogvs,“Vorredt” (Preface) (s. fn. 4), fols. 5r – 5v.
9
Unknown author editing Franz Helm’s manuscript of 1535 in 1587: Weimar, Stiftung Weimarer Klassik /Herzogin
Amalia Bibliothek, Q 344, p. 185.

3
 Zimmermann’s authorial position in the writing of Dialogus is ambivalent: On the one
hand—and this may well be said of the printed Gehaimnussen—he pretends to have
initially prepared his dialogue on firearms and fireworks solely as a “Memorial” for his
own consumption.10 Cognizant of the Apostle Paul’s prediction, however, that nothing
could be so hidden and secret that it would not become known before the Last Judgment
he decided to make public what would have seen the light of day, anyway. Espousing
such an argument he ultimately considered himself an instrument of the Lord—and, as we
have seen, in 1573 began to produce at least a dozen copies of his manuscript and cleverly
arrange for their distribution.

2.2. Analysis of the New Titularbüech of 1579

2.2.1. Similar Ambivalence in the Publication of the New Titularbüech

In a somewhat similar vein the two parts of Zimmermann’s Titularbüech reflect the
ambivalence that the author may have felt when he combined both the listing of hundreds
of forms of address to all sorts of recipients, in other words, a highly public undertaking,
and the seemingly less public analyses in the second part of the book, the Gehaimnussen.
It is unfortunate that the author only provides one “Vorred”, the preface to the
Titularbüech, in which he describes the advantages of the listing of the forms of address to
his readers. Nowhere does he refer to the second part, which does not sport a separate
introduction or preface, either—the “Beschlußred an den Leser”, a post-script to the reader
on the last page of the Gehaimnussen,11 sums up Zimmermann’s contention that this
difficult piece, sometimes dark, secretive or incomplete, should be read with Christ’s
saying in mind that “pearls should not be cast to the pigs.” A writer describing secrets and
revealing many of them, the author quizzically continues, should be compared to a “hen
that lays an egg and eats it afterwards.” Since pagination carries over from Titularbüech it
would seem that Gehaimnussen—without any prefatorial remarks—was not added as an
afterthought or as a separate work. Given the seemingly different subject matters in the
two parts, though, we can only conjecture that Zimmermann once more followed the
maxim that he had established in his Dialogus and decided to publish what may have been
a very private collection of notes dealing with the subject of cryptology in the widest sense

10
Dialogvs, “Vorredt” (s. f.n. 8), fol. 4r – 4v. Cf. Leng, “Gründe für berufliches Töten” (s. f.n. 6) p. 329-330.
11
New Titularbüech (see fn. 1), p. 164. Page references to the Gehaimnissen part of this book are inserted in the text.
On the cryptological relevance of this section see Gerhard F. Strasser: “Die kryptographische Sammlung Herzog
Augusts: Vom Quellenmaterial für seine Cryptomenytices zu einem Schwerpunkt in seiner Bibliothek.” In:
Wolfenbütteler Beiträge 5 (1982), 83-121, here pp. 93-94 and 106.

4
 of the term. From the author’s point of view, though, we should not overlook that the
transition from the lists of the first part to the second half of the book may be quite logical
since anyone dealing with such a catalogue of addresses should know more about the
materials needed in the process of writing them, such as paper, inks, quills and the like—
initially very common topics with some cryptological applications interspersed, as we
shall see.

2.2.2. Overview of the Various Sections of the Gehaimnussen

2.2.2.1. Sections of a General Nature, with Few Cryptological References Interspersed

The book begins with a few pages on paper and papermaking12 (107-108) followed by the
preparation of inks. A couple of remarks show a 21st-century reader how miserable the
conditions may have been with which writers and scribes had to contend at the time: In
order to prevent newly preprared ink from freezing you should add brandy, and keeping
vermouth leaves in a linen sack in an inkpot or brushing paper with such twigs would keep
mice from nibbling at the paper (109). After describing the preparation of quills (110-111)
Zimmermann briefly touches upon the use of “a grey ore [that he calls] cobolt”13 and
likens to lead, which can be fashioned into a stylus or pencil for the writing on paper or
parchment without ink (111). To avoid carrying an ink supply the author next suggests the
preparation of powdered ink which could be dissolved in various liquids such as water,
wine, vinegar or urine (111-112). It should be noted that the subject of writing with ink
and a quill during travels was a serious problem that other authors tried to address. Daniel
Schwenter (1585-1636), a professor at the Altdorf (Nuremberg) university, included a
different solution in his own cryptological handbook early in the 17th century: He devised
a rudimentary form of a ‘fountain pen’ in the modern sense of the word although the ink
supply itself during overland travels was not his primary concern.14

12
The section on papermaking is the only part of the New Gehaimnussen that has been discussed in secondary
literature: Zimmermann’s material features in the introductory section of Irene Brückle: “The Role of Alum in
Historical Papermaking.” In: Abbey Newsletter 17, No. 4 (Sept., 1993), 53-57, here p. 53. Another aspect of the use
of paper is described in the Gehaimnussen; Zimmermann is credited as being the first to discuss how plain paper can
be substituted for leather, parchment or vellum as book wrappers: “Papir zufüttern […] daß mans an statt des Pirments
oder Leders […] Bücher dareyn binden kan” (123-124). See Michele V. Cloonan: “European Paper-Covered Books
from the Fifteenth through the Eighteenth Centuries.” In: Books at Iowa 47.1 (1987), 8-16, here p. 12.

13
Zimmermann is probably referring to what German miners used to call “Kobold [or Kobolt] Erz” or ‘goblin ore’ for
some of the blue-pigment producing minerals that were poor in known metals, but not to the cobalt blue pigments that
have been used for jewelry or paints. See Wikipedia: URL: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cobalt (accessed 03/11/2015).
14
Steganologia et Steganographia NOVA. Geheime Magische Natürliche Red und Schreibkunst […]. Nuremberg:
Halbmayer [after 1610]. Schwenter’s book, which saw 3 editions into the 1620s, was the first comprehensive
cryptological handbook in German. See Gerhard F. Strasser: “Daniel Schwenters ‘Feder / die Dinten halte / daß man

5
 The preparation of inks leads Zimmermann to a first cryptological application: Writing
could be concealed with sympathetic inks such as (potassium) alum that can only be read
when the sheet of paper was pulled through fresh water, turning it dark while the writing
would appear “schön weiß”, nice and white (112). “Sal|armoniacum|wasser”—ammonium
chloride diluted with water—or “Zwibelsafft,” onion juice, can be used for invisible
writing; it can be read when held against a flame. While these suggestions are not new, a
third, possibly original type of concealment looks simple but appears less plausible: A
piece of chalk sharpened to a point would write invisibly, but the writing could be read
with the paper held against the light or looked at sideways.

After this brief cryptological interlude Zimmermann continues his Gehaimnusse with
references to the making of seal waxes, turpentine, paper glue; the application of gold and
silver to various surfaces; the harmonious juxtaposition of paints of various colors, or the
preparation of charcoal for writing purposes (112-124). Two cryptological topics interrupt
this listing of suggestions that could be of use to anyone in the writing profession although
knowledge of these two applications would also fall within their purview. Zimmermann
first discusses ways of concealing the writing in black ink on white letter paper (124-125):
He covers a written page with transparent glue and carefully puts a clean second sheet over
it. As long as the glue were not too watery the writing would thus be concealed but could
be read against a source of light or the sun. The second secret the Augsburg author
conveys (125) is a rudimentary form of copying the writing on any kind of surface—paper,
parchment, wood or metal—to the same type of material. The ink to be used has to be
made from the soot of pine chips and linseed oil and must not be completely dry before the
written surface has to be placed on the counterpart. After pressure is applied the writing is
thus duplicated on the new surface—and, as can be expected, appears in mirror image so
that it can only be read in a mirror. While this suggestion vaguely recalls the technique
used in “rubbings” those results could not be duplicated—this is where Zimmermann’s
system is totally different. It has not been discussed in later literature, which makes one
doubt its practicability and success.

2.2.2.2. Sections with Increasing Emphasis on Secret Communication

The next few pages (130-132) are devoted to the reading of characters to be fashioned of
cardboard or metal so that blind persons can feel them. Zimmermann discusses their

ein gantzen bogen […] damit schreiben könne’ und ihre Wolfenbütteler Geschichte.” In: Wolfenbütteler Beiträge 4
(1981), 235-244.

6
 writing with the help of the afore-mentioned “cobolt pencil” along with precise
measurements of the size of characters to be read from varying distances—at first look
promising from a cryptological viewpoint but without any practical application. However,
the author’s calculations regarding the size of these characters—and the reading of
inscriptions high up on the walls of a festival hall, for instance (135)—bring into play the
effects of perspective (Ill. 2). This leads to their explicit application in times of siege,
when messages to a relief force written on large pieces of canvas hung from the ramparts
should be calibrated in a size commensurate with the distance of these troops,
Zimmermann proposes. Since telescopes had not yet been invented the best he can do is
propose the use of “Cristallinische Conspicilia,”15 a conical piece of glass yielding up to
tenfold magnification—although upside down, he warns (136). This seems to be an
instance when the Augsburg author may have used Giovanni Battista della Porta’s Magia
natvralis of 1558 that had become available in several editions by 1579.16 In Book IV,
which focuses on optics, della Porta describes the use of a cristalline “speculum” to
achieve magnification in much the same manner as Zimmermann. In the same section of
Gehaimnussen he briefly adds the suggestion that “pyromantic letters” can be written in
the night sky with lanterns or flares, thereby assuring total secrecy—a well-tried
crytological tool, indeed, that normally relies on the transmission of individual characters
through changing positions of flares and not the actual, and more difficult, “writing” of
letters against a dark sky.

We are now in the midst of outright cryptological references—“chiromantic art” is to be

used to communicate with a deaf person (who knows how to read and write, for sure) or
with anyone else in the presence of others (136). Zimmermann describes how the letters
of the alphabet (with the exception of p, t, x, and y) can be ascribed to the individual
phalanxes of each finger—“the nail or the upper part of the thumb should have the A, the
index finger B,” he begins his listing that is unfortunately not accompanied with an
illustration such as in Johannes Hartlieb’s block book Die Kunst Ciromantia printed in
Augsburg between 1485 and 1495 (Ill. 3-4).17
15
“Conspicillum” or “conspicilium”, in classical Latin the place where one observes, in late medieval times also
meaning binoculars or eyeglass(es).
16
Magiæ Natvralis, Sive De miracvlis rervm naturalivm, libri IIII. Naples: Cancer 1558. The edition used here is the
Antwerp, 1562, printing; Ch. XVII is on pp. 127 r° and v°. Numerous reprints over the next fifty years, especially in
Antwerp, Leiden, Cologne and Frankfurt; there was an Italian translation in Venice in 1560, a Dutch one in Antwerp in
1566, and a French one in Lyon in 1565.
17
Johannes Hartlieb: Die Kunst C[h]iromantia. Augsburg: Schapf [ca. 1485-1495?]. URL: http://daten.digitale-
sammlungen.de/bsb00043466/image_5 (accessed 03/20/2015).

7
Zimmermann’s overall theme of writing—carried over from the first half of his book—
continues in the following sections, which are devoted to alphabets. The author initially
considers (secret) communication in the dark a priority (136-137): He begins with a
discussion of lettering carved out of wood or paper and attached to thin fabric so that it
could be lit from behind. The same effect, he contends, can be reached by treating paper
or parchment in a way that it becomes transparent with only the writing or drawing on it
visible when back-lit—an effect that might appear “supernatural” to the uninitiated in an
environment of total darkness. A “diaphanic alphabet and numbering” can be fashioned
out of tin or paper for the Roman or Gothic type alphabets (137-138) (Ill. 5) so that the
transparent, stenciled letters and numbers can be used at night but also for daytime
applications. A brief section (138) introduces a “prosodic alphabet” that forms the core of
the 6000 syllables of German, Zimmermann contends: His listing consists mostly of letter
pairs such as “A B bl br C cl cr D dr E F fl fr G gf gl gm gn gr gß gw H J K […]” but also
considers some triple or quadruple combinations such as “S sch schl schm schr schw sp
spr st str”. This alphabet—which omits any vowel-consonant pairings—could facilitate
the teaching of reading to “old people” and should also help poets in their rhyming efforts.
While such claims are highly spurious this brief section may anticipate the spectacular
culmination of such combinatory calculations in Georg Philipp Harsdörffer’s “Fünffachem
Denckring der Teutschen Sprache” of 1644 (Ill. 6), a five-fold system of movable circular
disks on which prefixes; initial, medial and final letters; and postfixes invite the reader to
“think” about the German language and engage in zillions of semantic creations—
nonsense words included.18

The following discussion of the use of alphabets for cryptological purposes sports a full-
page (substitution) table but remains highly unsatisfactory despite brief explanations: The
“geomantic alphabet or sortilegic table” (139-141) (Ill. 7) should enable the user to
“invent” the first letters “of all the names” and as such seems to build on the previous
prosodic alphabet. This geomantic version may look at first sight like a rectangular
Trithemius tableau but in actuality is a kind of (polyalphabetic) substitution table with 18 x
21 lines. As such it differs substantially from the square table known from Book V of the
1518 Polygraphia of Trithemius since Zimmermann does not list all the letters of his

18
Needless to say that Harsdörffer, well versed in the cryptological literature of his day, knew of the numerous cipher
disks that had appeared since Alberti and Della Porta and included cryptological problems in his various books. The
“Denckring” features in Delitiæ Mathematicæ et Physicæ. Der Mathematischen und Philosophischen
Erquickstunden Zweyter Theil […]. Nuremberg: Dümler 1651, inserted after p. 516. (Harsdörffer continued this
multi-volume work originally written by Daniel Schwenter, the author of Steganologia [see f.n. 14] after his death in
1636).

8
alphabet of 18 letters in the first line and does not begin with the second letter in the
following line. In his case the first three lines contain three groups of the characters of his
alphabet repeated three times in each line, the first line ranging from A to g, the second
from h to o, etc. These three lines are repeated six times to a total of 21 lines. The 18
letters, the author begins his brief explanation on p. 141, could be replaced with numbers.

It is disappointing for a modern analyst to then read what applications Zimmermann sees
for this table: Through various multiplications one could ascertain what was “good,
average, or evil in the twelve heavenly signs”19 or learn what “great, average, or bad luck
the seven planets” would determine through the letters and numbers associated with their
characteristics. It is obvious that the author remains entirely within his geomantic or
sortilegic purview and indulges in generalities whose implication would defy even his
contemporaries—but does not consider the potential cryptographic use of such a table.

2.2.2.3. Various Secret Modes of Writing and Transmitting Letters

Fortunately the following sections—brief as they are—contain more practical

cryptological suggestions (141). Zimmermann first addresses a quandary with which
many a modern employer may be familiar, namely to have to write a letter of
recommendation while all along suspecting that the person in question may be able to have
access to it. Contrary to the modern practice of hiding a lack of qualifications behind the
screen of “standardized” codes like “has always shown good interest in his/her work” the
16th-century solution was more cryptological: The writer was to include “occult
characters” in the opening and closing lines so that the recipient would be alerted to the
flattering though insincere contents of the piece—of course these tell-tale characters would
have to be agreed upon in advance, Zimmermann adds. The following recommendation
concerns the transmission of a message in German with the language made unrecognizable
through the use of “false capital letters, incorrect and overly frequent punctuation” and the
like—marginally practicable at a time when literacy came at a premium. Lastly
Zimmermann comes up with a rudimentary kind of shorthand (141-142) to be used “for
the writing in a hurry,” as it might happen during speeches, sermons or musical
performances: It would suffice to write down only the first or last letter or a double letter

19
The “twelve heavenly signs” are the twelve horoscope signs still in use in astrology today, in other words, the
twelve zodiac signs. See Darrelyn Gunzburg: “Giotto’s Sky: The Fresco Paintings of the First Floor Salone of the
Palazzo della Ragione, Padua, Italy.” In: Journal for the Study of Religion, Nature, and Culture 7.4 (2013), 407-433,
here p. 422.

9
of each word. Leaving enough space around it one could then fill in the missing parts
from memory after the event, he concludes.

A longer segment is devoted to the transmission of secret messages across enemy lines in
times of “hard” sieges and the recognition of “false letters” (142-144). If the besieged
choose messengers more than one—indeed “two, three, four or even more”—should be
selected to carry identical missives on different routes for fear one of them might be “cast
down or captured.” All letters should clearly indicate the itinerary of each courier in case
one of them were intercepted and the contents were thus compromised. (Such practices
are well documented, of course; the imperial city of Nuremberg—often isolated within the
territory of the surrounding nobility—at the end of the 15th century entrusted messages to
the emperor to at least two couriers who were instructed to take different routes). The
section ends with a “NOTA” describing how such letters were to be concealed: “baked
into bread”; hidden in nutshells; in hollowed-out walking sticks; in shoe soles; in “nether
clothes” and/or in ways that would be discussed later in connection with gold and precious
stones.

Zimmermann’s imagination—perhaps also at times his military experience—result in

further and sometimes rather unique suggestions for the concealment of messages (143):
Written “in the tiniest and shortest way” the piece of paper could be stuffed along with the
charge into a front-loading pistol. At the destination it could be retrieved—and if the
pistol had to be fired along the way the secret would be pulverized! An alternate way of
hiding a message is similar to today’s drug smugglers’ method: Write the text with a lead
or “cobolt” pen on gold foil and shape it into a small pill—which could be swallowed in an
emergeny and would then find its way out of the body “in 4 or 5 days” to be read or
deciphered. Attaching messages to arrows or canon balls and firing them at the enemy to
be read by the soldiers might foment rebellion among the troops and “make them
friendly”—a weapon well known from modern psychological warfare. Lastly the author
suggests transmission of messages on dogs, cats, or pigeons—in the case of the latter
perhaps profiting from Roman accounts of their use by Julius Caesar. In modern warfare
carrier pigeons began to play an important rôle during the four-month siege of Paris during
the Franco-Prussian War of 1870/71; they delivered microfilms and messages beyond
World War II.

While so far the suggestions put forth in this section were relevant for the modern reader
the subsequent, detailed discussion of wax seals becomes by far too intricate (144).

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Zimmermann describes ways of detecting whether such seals had been broken and re-
applied, how this could be prevented and/or discovered, and how the dispatch of an
important letter could be announced to the recipient well in advance so as to alert him to a
possible opening and re-sealing along the way. Similarly the next section deals with the
intricate, repeated folding of a sheet of paper carrying secret communication, a process
that must have been highly crucial at a time when an address was written on the front (and
often also on the back) of such a sheet since envelopes had not yet come into use. The
author discusses in detail three different ways of folding and re-folding such pieces (144-
145), in the third example piercing the various layers of paper at the end so that the holes
could never be re-matched if the missive had been furtively opened. Harking back to his
papermaking discussion Zimmermann recommends very soft and thin paper or “virginal
parchment,” both of which would flatten out completely when secretly opened and leave
no trace of any folds that might facilitate unsuspected re-closing. The next section (146), a
lengthy description of how to fold a sheet of paper printed on both sides 16 times so that
this broadsheet can be read without having to cut up the entire piece has no more
cryptological relevance.

The next, short section (146-147) seems to be out of place as it deals with secret writing,
which will be treated extensively beyond a segment on the enclosure of gold, silver, or
precious stones in other materials for transport across enemy lines (147). Zimmermann
proposes alloys of these precious metals with baser metals such as copper, brass, iron, tin,
lead, or mercury; he also suggests that gold, pearls or precious stones could be covered
with black or red powder (borrowing vocabulary from that of the alchemists which will be
touched upon at the end of the book) and carried “on or inside” the body. Finally he
alludes to alchemical processes that he had experienced himself in order to “hide” these
precious metals or stones with “gypsum, chalk, rubber, wax” and a number of other
substances—but refrains from giving any more detailed descriptions as they might be
dangerous.

What follows is perhaps the most unique part of Gehaimnusse as it presents materials
related to letters and alphabets not commonly seen at the time. Zimmermann opens this
section (148) with an explanatory header that bears translating: “Explanation and Meaning
of the Magical, Typical and Inverted and virtually unknown Letters of the Roman
Alphabet, along with their hidden numbers, which help with the understanding and
creation of many types of writing.” He then explains that many learned (and unlearned)

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men use amongst themselves Roman characters written upside down, sideways, or
hanging, and that they will write German syllables or words using letters taken from Latin,
Greek, Hebrew or other languages. Encouraged by scholars Zimmermann therefore wants
to present these materials to his readers. The first part of his long section (149-151) prints
what has to be called a strange list of the letters A through Z in all sorts of contortions, so
to speak (Ill. 8), beginning with A “hanging” (= upside down, and carrying the number 1),
printed sideways (no. 2), B “hanging”, lying, inverted, and doubled up. C (with the no. 3)
follows the same pattern, as does D (no. 4). The page ends with a “hanging” (or leaning)
letter I that carries the number 9. Two pages further (151) the last letters of this “alphabet”
feature a double V that has the shape of a rhombus, W “hanging” (incorrectly marked for
sideways) with the number 200, an X only as doubled up with the number 300, a Y
sideways and 400, and rather contorted representations of Z “hanging” (no. 500), lying
sideways, and doubled. For full measure the listing ends with the German letter “ß”—no.
600, this time “Gerecht” (right side up). Zimmermann provides a brief further expanation
to this list of “magical and superstitious letters or characters,” which in many ways convey
the predictions or comfort of the Lord in the Holy Gospel but are also used in the name of
the devil. There are some divine and prophetic letters with supernatural powers and
special meaning, namely “A. E. J [= I], L. O. W. Z.,” as the author knows but cannot
fathom himself.

It should not surprise that this is the most intriguing section of the entire Gehaimnussen.
Zimmermann undoubtedly used material from alchemy and combined it with numerology
—all of it cloaked in a highly unusual listing of the letters of the alphabet in various
“positions” and their associated numbering.

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