Introduction

False. Counterfeit. Imitation. There were – and are – many ways of talking about goods created to replicate or mimic costly and rare materials. And in the early modern period these terms carried connotations ranging from derision to admiration. The wearing of false gems, for instance, could be seen as an attempt at social climbing (and a violation of sumptuary laws in many northern Italian regions). But it could also be a means of reinforcing status or displaying one’s interest in artistic and technological innovation.¹ There were thus many reasons people in early modern Italy purchased and wore imitation stones and metals.

We know much more about the false gems sought out by aristocrats, diplomats and merchants; however, the ‘Refashioning the Renaissance’ database shows that shopkeepers, cutlery-makers and shoemakers appear to have had some interest in imitation gems. Were these meant to pass for richer materials? Were they markers of an interest in innovative processes and production practices? Or was there simply a desire for products with the same look and feel as the materials they referenced (and those who wore them)? And what was that look and feel?

With these questions in mind, the ‘Refashioning the Renaissance’ project organised a workshop in March 2020 to re-create recipes for imitations of amber, pearls and other luxury goods. The workshop, designed by Sophie Pitman, offered insight into processes of making and a unique sensory experience with the resulting products, which showed that some imitation goods were more attractive and appropriate alternatives to the real thing than others.

The experiment

Amber was valued for its beauty, rarity and scent in the early modern period. It was burned as incense, but also made into paste for perfuming ointments, pomanders and gloves. Amber also releases a pleasant smell when warmed through handling, which made it a desirable material for rosaries (corone).² Along with its pleasing sensory properties, because amber was imported into Italy from the Baltics, it was expensive. Consequently, it is unsurprising to find amber simulants among the possessions of Italian artisans, though examples of them are rare. The database listing artisans’ possessions includes two examples of imitation amber, both from Siena: Bernardino Ciampi, a cutlery-maker, owned ‘a rosary of false amber with two crosses and silver medals’ when he died in 1646;³ and the shopkeeper Lorenzo Brogi had ‘a rosary of amber of glass’ in 1650.⁴

Glass-making was beyond the scope of this workshop, so Sophie Pitman, who designed the experiments, selected two recipes for imitation amber. These were from the best-selling Secreti del reverendo donno Alessio Piemontese (Venice, 1555), attributed to Girolamo Ruscelli:

We were more successful with the first recipe, where both Canada balsam and thicker and darker Venetian turpentine were warmed separately, poured into silicone moulds with differing amounts of raw cotton added to each sample; this created the striations and cloudiness observed in real amber (Figure vi.1). Importantly, the turpentine released a strong pine smell during preparation of the recipe and with handling of the final product, like real amber. It remains to be seen if the simulants can be shaped into beads like those found on extant rosaries and necklaces, but the experiment clearly showed that not only the colour but also the smell that made amber so desirable can be fabricated.

The second experiment focused on false pearls. If there are few instances of imitation amber listed among the possessions of non-elite families, there are fewer still of false pearls. In fact, among the nearly three hundred references to pearls in the inventories that compose the database, there is just one that mentions false pearls, which appears in a Sienese oil-maker’s home in 1642: ‘a pair of bracelets with little coral [beads] with baroque pearls of glass, but the coral is good’.⁶ That being said, there are references in other sources to false pearls being worn by non-elite women. For instance, a complaint was filed against the unnamed wife of a Florentine shoemaker who lived in Via de’ Pescioni in 1639 for wearing, ‘a necklace of black beads and Venetian false pearls’, among other forbidden items.⁷

Figure VI.1 Imitation amber made from turpentine, 2020. Aalto University, Espoo.

Whether or not artisans owned and wore false pearls, contemporary recipes for creating them are numerous; in the Italian context alone, Paola Venturelli has identified fourteen different sources with recipes for making pearls from the thirteenth to the seventeenth century.⁸ Most common are recipes that call for shell, pearl or mother of pearl to be softened or dissolved (usually with an acid) and made into a paste and then formed into larger pearls.

For the workshop, we recreated this type of recipe from a popular German text, Allerley Mackel (1532).⁹ The recipe calls for snail shells to be softened, ground and made into a paste with egg whites. Beads were then made from the paste and, once dry, boiled in linseed oil. This resulted in lumpy, gravelly beads not at all resembling pearls (Figure vi.2).

Figure VI.2 Imitation pearls made from crushed snail shells (top) and covered with gold and silver leaf (bottom), 2020. Aalto University, Espoo.

We also recreated a recipe of another common type, which was based on clay rather than nacreous paste from another popular text, Isabella Cortese’s I secreti (1584).¹⁰ This required baked clay beads to be coated with Armenian bole mixed with egg whites; once dry, a layer of gold or silver leaf was applied, and the bead dipped in parchment glue and left to set (Figure vi.2). Up close, these looked like large gold and silver beads, but, when viewed from a distance of 2 m or more, they could more plausibly be taken for real pearls (Figure vi.3).

That neither recipe produced what could be easily mistaken for a genuine pearl is in part because we did not have the necessary technical skills or tools to accurately follow the instructions. The German recipe called for quicksilver (mercury) to coat the beads, which was too dangerous for use in the facilities available for the workshop. Additionally, without proper grinding tools and experience, we were unable to crush the shells into a powder fine enough to make a smooth paste. In fact, most recipes for making false pearls call for shells or smaller pearls to be well ground, suggesting this skill was critical to the manufacture of persuasive pearls; it was this type of imitation that contemporary writers cited as able to fool even jewellers.¹¹ Others considered glass pearls to be the most convincing simulants, and difficult to detect when set into rings.¹²

Figure VI.3 Imitation pearls seen at a distance, 2020. Aalto University, Espoo.

If the best imitations were those made from smaller pearls or by expert glass bead-workers, perhaps they went undetected in the probate inventories that compose the ‘Refashioning the Renaissance’ database.¹³ It is also possible that those manufactured from shell or smaller pearls were large, spherical and costly, and others made by glass-workers were too expensive for most buyers.

Conclusion

The amber and pearls created in our workshop show that there was considerable technical skill required to produce these materials. It would have taken time, practice and materials to produce convincing pearls and amber pieces. This, in turn, reinforces the idea put forth by scholars such as Timothy McCall and Marlise Rijks that an interest in producing, purchasing and wearing well-made false gemstones was an elite pursuit related to status and an interest in innovation, rather than simply a desire by artisans and others with limited financial means to wear cheaper imitative products.¹⁴ This especially seems to be the case with false pearls. The most convincing imitation pearls were large, round and expensive; out of reach for most.¹⁵

However, the experiment also showed that the sensory experience of some materials – like amber – could be recreated in ways that were perhaps more accessible in terms of availability and cost. The false amber beads on the cutlery-maker’s rosary were perhaps not intended to stand in for amber, but rather to produce the same smell and warmth when touched, which supported religious practices and protected bodily health. It was amber’s transformative effect that was sought, rather than the material itself. Thus, this research experiment combining written evidence with hands-on experimentation shows that in the early modern period different kinds of imitations may have been appropriate for different social and economic groups for various purposes.