Tháng 4 13, 2025 4 đọc tối thiểu
Hi all
Today, I read the article below from Feng.
Feng, L. R. (2024). Foreign aromatics, olfactory culture, and scent connoisseurship in late medieval China. Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, 34(3), 435–453. https://doi.org/10.1017/S1356186323000640
So I thought I would share some thoughts and made a 4-minute video about it too.
When we talk about ancient China, we usually think of things like silk, tea, calligraphy, or the Great Wall. But there’s one part of history that’s often overlooked—scent.
Over a thousand years ago, during the Tang Dynasty (618–907 AD), one particular scent arrived in China that would quietly change everything: agarwood.
It came by ship as just another trade good, but it ended up leaving a deep mark on Chinese culture, religion, art, and daily life. Here’s how.
Agarwood is a dark, fragrant wood that forms when certain trees are infected by mold. The result is a dense, resin-rich wood that smells incredible—even before it’s burned.
People in ancient China called it chenxiang, which means “sinking fragrance”—because it literally sinks in water, unlike normal wood.
Agarwood didn’t grow in China. It came from forests in Vietnam, Sumatra, and other parts of Southeast Asia. Traders brought it by sea, packed with other luxury items like pearls, spices, and frankincense.
Before agarwood arrived, people in China mostly used local plants for scent—things like mugwort, Sichuan pepper, and fragrant herbs. These smells were familiar and used in rituals, medicine, and daily life.
But things started to shift as new scents came in from abroad:
Frankincense from Arabia
Sandalwood from India
Musk from Tibet
And of course, agarwood from Southeast Asia
These weren’t just nice smells. They were strong, complex, and unlike anything locals had experienced before.
Agarwood, in particular, stood out. It was rich, calming, and even spiritual. When burned, it filled the air with a warm, deep scent that could change the entire mood of a space.
At first, agarwood was used to show off wealth and power.
Emperors burned it during lavish banquets. Wealthy merchants filled their homes with clouds of its smoke. Just owning it was a status symbol.
But over time, people began to use it in more thoughtful ways.
Among scholars, monks, and nobles, a new culture started to grow. Instead of burning piles of incense for show, they began to study it—how different scents blended, how they matched with certain seasons, moods, or even flowers.
It became a kind of art. People held incense contests. They wrote poems about scent. They discussed which aromas went best with certain settings—like tea gatherings, garden walks, or meditation.
Agarwood wasn’t just a luxury anymore. It became part of everyday life for the cultural elite.
Another rare scent from this time was called Dragon Brain, or Long Nao in Chinese. Today, we know it as camphor.
Dragon Brain came from camphor trees in places like Borneo. It had a sharp, cooling smell and was used mainly in medicine, rituals, and sometimes food. It was powerful but very specific.
Compared to agarwood, Dragon Brain was more precise and limited in how it was used.
Agarwood, on the other hand, was everywhere—
Burned in temples
Blended into incense
Carved into religious statues
Even soaked in wine and worn in clothing
Both were rare. Both were imported. But agarwood had the bigger cultural impact.
Interestingly, during the Tang Dynasty, there were rules about everything—clothes, silk, even roof tiles. But there were no rules about incense.
That meant anyone rich enough could buy and burn as much as they wanted.
Some people used agarwood with care and elegance. Others burned it in massive amounts just to show off. There are even stories of pirates setting piles of frankincense on fire as if it were candle wax.
Officials sometimes scolded the wealthy for being wasteful. But no one could really stop it. Scent was free—not legally and financially, but culturally. It drifted wherever people wanted it to go.
Beyond daily life, agarwood had a strong connection to religion.
In Buddhist temples, it was used to cleanse the space and calm the mind. In daily rituals, it marked important life moments—births, funerals, meditations, prayers.
When archaeologists opened the thousand-year-old crypt at Famensi Temple, they found censers still filled with agarwood and sandalwood, carefully preserved with labels. That’s how sacred it was.
It wasn’t just about smelling good. It was about spiritual presence.
We don’t have a manual from the Tang Dynasty explaining how people used incense. But we do have stories.
In one tale, a princess’s scarf—scented with Dragon Brain—gets picked up by accident. Years later, the smell triggers a flood of memory in the emperor, reminding him of her after she’s gone.
In another, a perfumed robe ends up in a wine shop, and people are stunned that the smell is still so strong. They recognize the scent as something only royalty would wear.
These stories show how powerful scent was—not just physically, but emotionally. It connected people, places, and memories.
Agarwood came to China on ships—packed in crates, bought and sold like any other luxury item.
But it didn’t stay just a product.
It became a part of Chinese culture and helped shape people's ideas about beauty, ritual, emotion, and even time itself.
From incense games to sacred temples, from handwritten stories to sunken ships still carrying its scent, agarwood’s journey wasn’t just about fragrance.
It was about meaning.
And more than a thousand years later, that meaning still lingers.
Are you curious about Agarwood but haven't tried yet? Try some our Agarwood chips today
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