remedies for the weak at heart

Episode 2: Ambergris

2009-06-12T12:16:00.000-07:00

The following history was inspired by my recent completion of Melville's masterpiece, Moby Dick. Though the entire narrative is brimming with fascinating histories all pertaining to the 19th century whaling industry and, specifically, the capture and uses of sperm whales and their various parts--the anecdotal subject of chapter 92 in particular sparked my curiosity. This was, of course, regarding ambergris, another example of a most unlikely material being put to good use by ever-enterprising man. And, personal dietary habits aside, my intellectual interests continue to cling to the use of animals bodies and all of their complex parts for human interests, from the merely practical to the more esoteric; for basic necessities or completely frivolous desires. Ambergris arguably falls into the latter category, though, to be fair, it is merely a bi-product of an animal that, at least until the invention of the light bulb, provided a very practical and useful substance. But it is the bi-products that are often the most interesting; on the one hand, the creativity that allows us to find uses for every single part of the beast's body, and on the other, the fact that everything that exists has some inherent useful quality waiting to be discovered, continues to fascinate me. Furthermore, our system of value, by which scarcity or difficulty in obtaining something impart an increased desirability, creates a strange paradox: those objects which seem to have the most base origins, those which come from the bowels of the beast or those of the earth, inherently become the most refined and sought after.

So what is ambergris? The word itself is French, a compound of amber and gris (grey), denoting the colors that comprise the substance. Melville describes it as "soft, waxy, and so highly fragrant and spicy, that it is largely used in perfumery, in pastiles, precious candles, hair-powders, and pomatum. The Turks use it in cooking, and also carry it to Mecca, for the same purpose that frankincense is carried to St. Peter's in Rome. Some wine merchants drop a few grains into claret, to flavor it." I was unable to find much additional information, so I can only offer you what I have gleaned from trusty old wikipedia. Essentially what I learned is that ambergris comes from the molted lining of the sperm whale's intestines, and is usually found floating in the sea after it has either passed through the digestive tract or has been regurgitated by the whale. It is made of a waxy substance that helps to facilitate the smooth passage of sharp objects the that may have been swallowed, like giant squid beaks, through the whale's inner parts. Its odor is generally described as sweet and earthy. Ambergris does not come out of the whale's body in its final useful form, however. Here is the wikipedia description of the chemical process involved in the formation of ambergris from the raw material released by the whale:

When initially expelled by or removed from the whale, the fatty precursor of ambergris is pale white in color (sometimes streaked with black), soft, with a strong fecal smell. Following months to years of photo-degradation and oxidation in the ocean, this precursor gradually hardens, developing a dark gray or black color, a crusty and waxy texture, and a peculiar odor that is at once sweet, earthy, marine, and animalic. Its smell has been described by many as a vastly richer and smoother version of isopropinal without its stinging harshness.

Here is what ambergris looks like in its oxidized state:

The early uses of ambergris are inventive and varied, but the most well known and long lasting is its use as a fixative in perfume. This is what wikipedia has to say about it:

Ambergris has been mostly known for its use in creating perfume and fragrance much like musk. While perfumes can still be found with ambergris around the world, American perfumers usually avoid it due to legal ambiguities. Ancient Egyptians burned ambergris as incense, while in modern Egypt ambergris is used for scenting cigarettes. The ancient Chinese called the substance "dragon's spittle fragrance." During the Black Death in Europe, people believed that carrying a ball of ambergris could help prevent them from getting the plague. This was because the fragrance covered the smell of the air which was believed to be the cause of plague.

This substance has also been used historically as a flavouring for food, and some people consider it an aphrodisiac. During the Middle Ages, Europeans used ambergris as a medication for headaches, colds, epilepsy, and other ailments.

Ambergris was also moulded, dried, decorated and worn as jewellery, particularly during the European Renaissance. It was often formed into beads.

Typically, there are a fair share of superstitious beliefs behind many of the early "practical" uses of ambergris. Attributing shamanic power to animal bodies is nothing new; many non-western societies continue to use obscure animal parts for their reputed health benefits or for religious/spiritual purposes, a practice that has been going on for thousands of years. But there are examples of this kind of practice in western culture as well, though I think the mysticism or superstition surrounding it has largely been lost. Look at Musk, for example, which comes from the Near East, but has been widely used in the West as well. Like ambergris, it was originally derived from animal parts that have since been largely replaced by synthetics. Though the word in its modern usage encompasses any perfumes with a "musky" odor, either plant-based or synthetic, its origins are much more specific. Musk, if you don't already know, literally means "testicle" in Sanskrit, and this is of course because it is drawn from a gland found near the testicles of a male deer. Like ambergris, musk was used as a perfume fixative, and, though it was praised for its complex odor, its symbolic significance was by no means overlooked either. Beginning in ancient times, it was believed to be an aphrodisiac, not much of a surprise based on its origins; it was almost certainly believed, and not without some merit, that some kind of power could be drawn from the animal's masculinity and harnessed by man. I could go on about animal products believed to increase male virility, but this is a whole other subject for another time (please see related link in sidebar if you would like to learn more about some folk remedies historically used to treat erectile dysfunction); I merely use this example to point out the widespread use of animal products for their symbolic value, aphrodisiacs being especially fitting because the path from origin to use is especially tenuous (a case of wishful thinking?).

As I mentioned earlier, the notion of a substance as refined and precious while having such base origins is not uncommon. Generally speaking, the obscurity and level of difficulty in obtaining a thing in large quantities only adds to its value, especially if it fulfills a unique function. Those physical and spiritual problems most shrouded in mystery lend themselves to the most creative and/or superstitious cures, and there are few substances in existence that have not been applied to some human plight or other. Lucky for us, such remedies are ripe with poetic potential just waiting to be explored. On that note, I will close this entry with Melville's own insight regarding this particular conundrum:

Now that the incorruption of this most fragrant ambergris should be found in the heart of such decay; is this nothing? Bethink thee of that saying of St. Paul in Corinthians, about corruption and incorruption; how that we are sown in dishonor, but raised in glory. And likewise calls to mind that saying of Paracelsus about what it is that maketh the best musk. Also forget not the strange fact that of all things of ill-savor, Cologne-water, in its rudimental manufacturing stages, is the worst.

Episode 1: Hepar Sulphuris

2009-06-10T16:51:00.000-07:00

Recent research on homeopathic cures and folk remedies for various obscure and quasi-legitimate conditions has led to my discovery of a curious substance known as Hepar Sulphuris. Invented by the declared “father of homeopathy,” Samuel Hahnemann, it is made with the inner layer of oyster shells and flowers of sulfur. Like other such dubious wonder remedies as strychnine, H.S. has a sort of backward effect, that is, large quantities of the substance would in fact cause in “normal” people the very symptoms that it cures in the unbalanced individual. Case in point: Strychnine is described on Wikipedia as “one of the bitterest substances known” and is said to cause muscle convulsions and eventually death by asphyxiation or “sheer exhaustion.” But small doses are used as a stimulant and to ease stomach ailments, and were commonly consumed as a cure-all for a drinking problem. This “hair of the dog” method was popular in early homeopathy, and it was widely believed that symptoms could be reversed with very small doses of substances that create them. This theory in itself is counterintuitive (but also so unlikely that it just might work), but I find that I am drawn into even more confusing territory when I try to make the tenuous connection between physical/chemical processes and complex human personalities that such a cure presumes. Naturally, my rational mind is incapable of conceiving of any of this stuff literally, so I am resigned to appreciating its allegorical symbolism in my unquenchable desire to find some meaning there.

The intrigue of oysters as bizarre and sexual creatures aside (see related link in side bar), Hepar Sulphuris held an even greater fascination for me because of the vagueness of the symptoms it is purported to cure. Perfectly suited for many a misanthropic literary character, (think J.K. Huysman’s Duc Jean Floressa des Esseintes, a personal hero of mine), this medicine is essentially offering a cure-all for the introverted, depressed, neurotic soul, the type that resigns itself to bodily decay, devoting all of its energies instead to satiating abstruse and highly particular aesthetic yearnings. In fact, the standard description I found on the Internet for Hepar Sulphuris patients could almost be mistaken for Huysman’s descriptions of the Duc’s physical condition in A Rebours:

The patient is overly sensitive to pain, touch, and cold. Pains are sharp, as if a splinter or piece of glass were being poked into the skin. A sore throat may feel like a fish bone is stuck in it and the pain increases upon swallowing. The slightest pressure causes much pain and the patient may faint from the pain. The patient cannot tolerate the cold and any exposure to cold air causes chills. If a hand or foot slips outside the bedcovers the patient will become chilled. Any slight exertion will cause the patient to perspire. The patient's sweat is cold and profuse and smells sour and offensive, like rotten cheese. Bodily discharges are yellow and thick and also smell offensive. If a cough is present, it is a dry, hacking cough with rattling of mucus in the chest.

The typical Hepar sulph. patients are delicate, oversensitive persons who tend to be scrawny in build and have enlarged glands. They are slow persons with flabby muscles, and often have light hair. They catch cold easily, dislike the cold, crave sour foods such as pickles and vinegar, and may dislike fats.

Mentally they are irritable, impulsive, angry, obstinate, anxious, fearful, impatient, sad, and depressed. They are very hard to get along with. Nothing pleases them and they dislike company. Often the desire to commit violence is present. They have poor memories. The Hepar sulph. patient is usually in a hurry--he drinks and eats fast and talks rapidly.

…elegiac, lamenting prose that spoke to my every endeavor to unlock the mysteries of the human soul. It is a romantic and rather fanciful notion that there is something in oyster shells powerful enough to cure all of these problems in such an afflicted individual. The lore of oysters as peculiar and potent creatures has a long history, and I will continue to delight in the human tendency to assign esoteric qualities to otherwise meaningless physical objects/beings. The major worry with using this product, once we have decided to put faith in its validity, is: how can one be sure any of these symptoms exist in oneself? As I imparted earlier, H.S. will only have the desired affect on those that already possess such qualities; in all others, it will have the opposite effect. What if someone is right on the border between normal and neurotic; would hepar sulphuris exacerbate or subtly improve? The subtlety of the symptoms, as well as the difficulty in distinguishing between the physical and the psychological (i.e. the “real” and the “imagined”?) only adds to the haziness of such a solution. I mean, doesn't the description simply conjure an image of an especially uptight curmudgeon with smelly discharge? Is this something for which there is a cure? Or is it the result of built up frustration and bitterness in an already finicky individual who doesn't seem to care much about their physical health?

Of course, to most people, the idea of such a simple cure for these complex neuroses is unlikely, but in those of us that feel like we just don’t function in quite a normal way it offers, if nothing else, the belief that all of these scattered sensitivities and particularities are somehow related, and should be treated as such. Faith in such a cure surely depends on a non-scientific worldview, or at the very least a suspension of our more literal, empirical mindset. This may be objectionable to some, but I have come to a certain understanding or compromise, if you will, whereby the answers to such arcane troubles can only be found in equally arcane solutions.