The Art of Perfumery, and Methods of Obtaining the Odors of Plants. G. W. Septimus Piesse
mistake to think that a successful manufacturer is one who has carefully preserved the secrets of his trade, or that peculiar modes of effecting simple things, processes unknown in other factories, and mysteries beyond the comprehension of the vulgar, are in any way essential to skill as a manufacturer, or to success as a trader."—Professor Solly.
If the horticulturists of England were instructed how to collect the odors of flowers, a new branch of manufacture would spring up to vie with our neighbors' skill in it across the Channel.
Of our five senses, that of Smelling has been treated with comparative indifference. However, as knowledge progresses, the various faculties with which the Creator has thought proper in his wisdom to endow man will become developed, and the faculty of Smelling will meet with its share of tuition as well as Sight, Hearing, Touch, and Taste.
Flowers yield perfumes in all climates, but those growing in the warmer latitudes are most prolific in their odor, while those from the colder are the sweetest. Hooker, in his travels in Iceland, speaks of the delightful fragrance of the flowers in the valley of Skardsheidi; we know that winter-green, violets, and primroses are found here, and the wild thyme, in great abundance. Mr. Louis Piesse, in company with Captain Sturt, exploring the wild regions of South Australia, writes: "The rains have clothed the earth with a green as beautiful as a Shropshire meadow in May, and with flowers, too, as sweet as an English violet; the pure white anemone resembles it in scent. The Yellow Wattle, when in flower, is splendid, and emits a most fragrant odor."
Though many of the finest perfumes come from the East Indies, Ceylon, Mexico, and Peru, the South of Europe is the only real garden of utility to the perfumer. Grasse and Nice are the principal seats of the art; from their geographical position, the grower, within comparatively short distances, has at command that change of climate best fitted to bring to perfection the plants required for his trade. On the seacoast his Cassiæ grows without fear of frost, one night of which would destroy all the plants for a season; while, nearer the Alps, his violets are found sweeter than if grown in the warmer situations, where the orange tree and mignionette bloom to perfection. England can claim the superiority in the growth of lavender and peppermint; the essential oils extracted from these plants grown at Mitcham, in Surrey, realize eight times the price in the market of those produced in France or elsewhere, and are fully worth the difference for delicacy of odor.
The odors of plants reside in different parts of them, sometimes in the roots, as in the iris and vitivert; the stem or wood, in cedar and sandal; the leaves, in mint, patchouly, and thyme; the flower, in the roses and violets; the seeds in the Tonquin bean and caraway; the bark, in cinnamon, &c.
Some plants yield more than one odor, which are quite distinct and characteristic. The orange tree, for instance, gives three—from the leaves one called petit grain; from the flowers we procure neroli; and from the rind of the fruit, essential oil of orange, essence of Portugal. On this account, perhaps, this tree is the most valuable of all to the operative perfumer.
The fragrance or odor of plants is owing, in nearly all cases, to a perfectly volatile oil, either contained in small vessels, or sacs within them, or generated from time to time, during their life, as when in blossom. Some few exude, by incision, odoriferous gums, as benzoin, olibanum, myrrh, &c.; others give, by the same act, what are called balsams, which appear to be mixtures of an odorous oil and an inodorous gum. Some of these balsams are procured in the country to which the plant is indigenous by boiling it in water for a time, straining, and then boiling again, or evaporating it down till it assumes the consistency of treacle. In this latter way is balsam of Peru procured from the Myroxylon peruiferum, and the balsam of Tolu from the Myroxylon toluiferum. Though their odors are agreeable, they are not much applied in perfumery for handkerchief use, but by some they are mixed with soap, and in England they are valued more for their medicinal properties than for their fragrance.
SECTION II.
"Were not summer's distillations left
A liquid prisoner, pent in walls of glass,
Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft,
Nor it, nor no remembrance what it was;
But flowers distilled, though they with winter meet,
Leese but their show, their substance still lives sweet."
Shakspeare.
The extensive flower farms in the neighborhood of Nice, Grasse, Montpellier, and Cannes, in France, at Adrianople (Turkey in Asia), at Broussa and Uslak (Turkey in Asia), and at Mitcham, in England, in a measure indicate the commercial importance of that branch of chemistry called perfumery.
British India and Europe consume annually, at the very lowest estimate, 150,000 gallons of perfumed spirits, under various titles, such as eau de Cologne, essence of lavender, esprit de rose, &c. The art of perfumery does not, however, confine itself to the production of scents for the handkerchief and bath, but extends to imparting odor to inodorous bodies, such as soap, oil, starch, and grease, which are consumed at the toilette of fashion. Some idea of the commercial importance of this art may be formed, when we state that one of the large perfumers of Grasse and Paris employs annually 80,000 lbs. of orange flowers, 60,000 lbs. of cassia flowers, 54,000 lbs. of rose-leaves, 32,000 lbs. of jasmine blossoms, 32,000 lbs. of violets, 20,000 lbs. of tubereuse, 16,000 lbs. of lilac, besides rosemary, mint, lemon, citron, thyme, and other odorous plants in large proportion. In fact, the quantity of odoriferous substances used in this way is far beyond the conception of those even used to abstract statistics.
To the chemical philosopher, the study of perfumery opens a book as yet unread; for the practical perfumer, on his laboratory shelves, exhibits many rare essential oils, such as essential oil of the flower of the Acacia farnesiana, essential oil of violets, tubereuse, jasmine, and others, the compositions of which have yet to be determined.
The exquisite pleasure derived from smelling fragrant flowers would almost instinctively induce man to attempt to separate the odoriferous principle from them, so as to have the perfume when the season denies the flowers. Thus we find the alchemists of old, torturing the plants in every way their invention could devise for this end; and it is on their experiments that the whole art of perfumery has been reared. Without recapitulating those facts which may be found diffused through nearly all the old authors on medical botany, chemistry, pharmacy, and works of this character, from the time of Paracelsus to Celnart, we may state at once the mode of operation adopted by the practical perfumer of the present day for preparing the various extracts or essences, waters, oils, pomades, &c., used in his calling.
The processes are divided into four distinct operations; viz.—
1. Expression; 2. Distillation; 3. Maceration; 4. Absorption.
1. Expression is only adopted where the plant is very prolific in its volatile or essential oil—i.e. its odor; such, for instance, as is found in the pellicle or outer peel of the orange, lemon, and citron, and a few others. In these cases, the parts of the plant containing the odoriferous principle are put sometimes in a cloth bag, and at others by themselves into a press, and by mere mechanical force it is squeezed out. The press is an iron vessel of immense strength, varying in size from six inches in diameter, and twelve deep, and upwards, to contain one hundred weight or more; it has a small aperture at the bottom to allow the expressed material to run for collection; in the interior is placed a perforated false bottom, and on this the substance to be squeezed is placed, covered with an iron plate fitting the interior; this is connected with a powerful screw, which, being turned, forces the substance so closely together, that the little vessels containing the essential oils are burst, and it thus escapes. The common tincture press is indeed a model of such an instrument. The oils which are thus collected are contaminated with watery extracts, which exudes at the same time, and from which it has to be separated; this it does by itself in a measure, by standing in a quiet place, and it is then poured off and strained.