Nose For Language: Power Of Scent In Literature

'Olfactory language in literature is my field. I previously looked at physicality in literary texts, for instance how authors describe pain, but scent was apparently a blind spot. That changed when we were in the throes of the Covid epidemic and many people lost their sense of smell', says Van Dijkhuizen.

'Research showed how much impact that had. Some people said that without their sense of smell, it felt as though there was a glass pane between them and the world. Imagine no longer being able to smell your partner, child or house! I realised how important smell is for us. Plenty of neurological and culture-historical research had already been done, but a literary perspective was new.'

More important than previously thought

We see, hear, taste, feel and, oh yes, we also smell. Nowadays, we seem less aware of the function of scent than of the other four senses. For us, sight is linked to knowledge and that may make it the most important of the senses.

'When it comes to knowledge, we often use "seeing words",' says Van Dijkhuizen. If you understand a text, you find it "clear", you have a "perspective" or a "vision", and research "shows" results. That makes it all the more interesting to explore how people used scent and smell in the 16th and 17th centuries. It shows us how we can come to understand the world from another perspective.'

Our perception of scent is unconscious much of the time. Only when the smells in our environment change do we notice them. 'After a while you no longer notice the smell of your perfume or aftershave. But when you return from holiday, for example, you suddenly notice the smell of your house. Unconsciously, you are always registering that scent. It contributes to your feeling of being at home. And if you smell a fire, you know that there is danger and that you need to seek safety. Losing your sense of smell is really unsettling.'

Scent is fleeting and ephemeral. Although we are good at distinguishing between different smells, we find it difficult to name them. 'That is hardly surprising once you know that there are relatively few connections in the brain between the language centre and the parts responsible for processing smell.'

Olfactory writers

It may not be the first thing that comes to mind when you think of Shakespeare, 'but he is a particularly olfactory writer', says Van Dijkhuizen. As was Vondel. Both were active in the 16th and 17th centuries, precisely the period that he studies.

'At that time, you see that many poets and playwrights are fascinated by smell. They describe smells in all sorts of ways, or they use scent as a metaphor. I want to know what that olfactory language meant for them, and what it can mean for us. In our research, we mainly focus on early-modern European literature, in particular on English and Dutch authors. In future, we'd like to look at literary olfactory language over a longer period.'

Scent-driven colonialism

Cinnamon, pepper, nutmeg, cloves: in the early-modern period these valuable and highly sought-after spices were one of the main raisons d'être of the Dutch East India Company (VOC), founded in 1602.

'Authors from that era wrote about the alluring charms of the colonies, or future colonies', says Van Dijkhuizen. 'Vondel, for example, speaks of the fertility of that distant part of the globe, which was so overwhelming you could practically smell it. He was essentially suggesting that the merchants were not active colonists, but were, as it were, lured to the colonies by delightful scents. This olfactory language offers a completely new insight into how Europeans viewed colonialism at that time.'

The intangible

'Scents transcend boundaries; they consist of volatile molecules that have detached themselves from a scent source. These molecules travel across distances or linger even after the scent source has long since disappeared.'

It is therefore unsurprising that 16th- and 17th-century authors used scent to put the intangible and incomprehensible into words. 'Religion, memories, mortality: those are recurrent themes in literature', says Van Dijkhuizen. For example, what is it like to exist in time, to be a being that grows older and dies? George Herbert, a 17th-century English poet, describes in his poem Life how he suddenly understands what that means. He smells a posy of flowers he has picked and notices how their sweet scent fades as the flowers wilt. He will suffer the same fate, he realises: Making my mind to smell my fatal day.'

Scent and death are a common combination in early-modern literature, one that sometimes offers us, as 21st-century readers, wonderful insights. 'The dead are like a scent. I think that is a really beautiful metaphor. Our loved ones who have passed away are still with us, like a scent that drifts in and out of our awareness.'

The aroma of Christ

At a conference Van Dijkhuizen organised in January as part of the POEM research project, the focus was also on the scent of the sacred.

'There is a poem by 17th-century Flemish poet Justus de Harduwijn with a long description of the aroma of Christ. It consists of all the wonderful scents in the world, such as myrrh, nard oil, flowers and incense. Scent artist Tasha Marks created a new fragrance especially for the conference, inspired by the description of the aroma of Christ.

'Participants were given a scent blotter and sniffed it while I read the poem out. Afterwards, they reflected on how the scent had influenced their experience of the poem. We are still processing the responses, but it was a really special experience anyway. What did the aroma of Christ smell like? Layered and unique!'

This article previously appeared in Leidraad alumni magazine. Interested in more? Read the article about AI in education on page 33 (in Dutch).