BOOK ONE: Chapter 55 Essays, by Michel de Montaigne

On Smells

It is recorded of some men, among them Alexander the Great, that their sweat exhaled a sweet odour, owing to some rare and extraordinary property, of which Plutarch and others sought to find out the cause. But the common run of bodies are I find quite otherwise, and the best state they can be in is to be free from odour. Even the purest breath can be no sweeter or more excellent than to lack all offensive odours, as healthy children do. That is why, says Plautus,

Mulier tum bene olet, ubi nihil olet, (*'A woman has a good smell when she has no smell.' Mostellaria, I, iii, 117.)

A woman smells most perfectly when she does not smell at all, just as her deeds are said to smell sweetest when they are unnoticed and unheard. And those fine foreign perfumes are rightly regarded as suspicious in those who use them; it may be thought that their purpose is to cover some natural defect in that quarter. Thence proceed those paradoxes of the ancient poets, that to smell sweet is to stink,

Rides nos, Coracine, nil olentes,
malo quam bene olere, nil olere. ( 'You laugh at me, Coracinus, because I use no scent. I had rather smell of nothing than smell sweet, Martial, VI, Iv, 4.)

And again:

Posthume, non bene olet, qui bene semper olet. ( 'Posthumus, the man who always smells sweet does not smell sweet.' Martial, II xii, 4.)

Yet I very much like to be regaled with good smells, and particularly loathe bad ones, which I can detect at a greater distance than anyone else:

Namque sagacius unus odoror,

Polypus, an gravis hirsutis cubet hircus in alis,
quam canis acer ubi lateat sus. ( For my nose is sharper, Polypus, at smelling the rank goat-smell of hairy armpits, than a dog at scenting out hidden game)

The simplest and most natural smells seem to me the most pleasant; and this applies chiefly to the ladies. In the heart of barbarism, the women of Scythia are accustomed, after bathing, to powder and plaster their whole body and face with a certain sweet smelling herb that grows in their country; and when they remove this paint to come to their husbands, they remain both sleek and perfumed.

Whatever the odour, it is remarkable how it clings to me, and how prone my skin is to absorb it. He who reproaches nature for failing to furnish man with the means of bringing smells to his nose is wrong, for they bring themselves. But in my case it is my moustache, which is thick, that performs that duty. If I touch it with my gloves or my handkerchief, it holds the scent for the whole day. It betrays the place where I have been. The close, luscious, greedy, long drawn kisses of youth would adhere to it in the old days, and would remain for several hours afterwards. And yet I do not find myself much prone to epidemic diseases, which are either caught by contact, or arise from the contagion of the air; I have escaped those of my time, of which there have been several varieties in our cities and our armies. We read of Socrates that, though he never left Athens during the many visitations of plague that affected the city, he alone was never the worse for them.

Physicians might, I believe, make greater use of scents than they do, for I have often noticed that they cause changes in me, and act on my spirits according to their qualities; which make me agree with the theory that the introduction of incense and perfume into churches, so ancient and widespread a practice among all nations and religions, was for the purpose of raising our spirits, and of exciting and purifying our senses, the better to fit us for contemplation.

To form a better opinion of this, I should like to have tried the art of those cooks who are able to blend foreign odours with the flavour of their meats, as was particularly noticed of those in the service of that King of Tunis who landed at Naples in our own day to confer with the Emperor Charles. His meats were stuffed with sweet smelling herbs at such expense that to dress a peacock and two pheasants in this way cost a hundred ducats; and then they were carved, not only the banqueting hall but every room in the palace, and even the near by houses, were filled with a very sweet vapour, which did not disappear for some time afterwards.

My chief precaution in choosing my lodgings is to avoid a heavy and unwholesome atmosphere. The affection that I have for those beautiful cities Venice and Paris is lessened by their offensive smells, which arise from the marshes of the former and the mud of the latter.