The first written reference to the smell of marigold appears in the Florentine Codex, where Bernardino Sahagún describes cempoalxochitl as a beautiful, pleasant-smelling yellow flower. He distinguishes between the female bloom, large and beautiful (Tagetes erecta), and the male one, which is neither so large nor so beautiful (Tagetes patula).

Francisco Hernández described the smell of the ‘flower of twenty petals’ as ‘intense’ (Hernández, Antigüedades de la Nueva España, Lib. III, Cap. IX) and ‘somewhat strong’ (algo fuerte). Once the cempoalxochitl arrived in Europe, its smell lost its positive connotations. Leonhardt Fuchs wrote that its smell is ‘intense’ (New Kreüterbuch, 1543: XIII), while Juan de Járava stated that the flos Indianus ‘smells a lot’ (Historia de las yervas y plantas, 1557: 27). For Adam Lonitzer, its smell was simply ‘strong’ (Kreuterbuch, 1629: 347–348), while Hieronymus Bock was more specific: he noted that the stem and leaves have a strong odour, but the flower is odourless (Kreutterbuch, darin vnderscheidt Nammen vnd Würckung der Kreutter, 1577: 326v.). Joachim Camerarius in his Kreuterbuch concurred but added that the smell of the ‘Indianische Nägelin’ is intense and unpleasant. Jacobus Theodorus even differentiates between the smells of various Tagete species: large ones whose smell is suffocating (Tagetes erecta) and small ones, in which only their stems and leaves smell but not the flowers (Tagetes patula). He expressively describes the stench of the Tagete, confirms (based on his own experience) that the smell weakens the heart, and states that it ought to be avoided during plague outbreaks. We find the same opinion in the work of Adam Huber, who – after describing its smell in most unflattering terms (‘heavy stench’, ‘very bad smell’, ‘extremely stinky’) – concludes that if it did not stink so terribly, its beauty would have no equal (‘If it did not stink so hideously, it would outstrip and surpass in its beauty all other flowers’). Other physicians at the court of Emperor Rudolf II, namely Thaddeaus Hagecius, Georg Handsch, and Anselmus de Boodt, agree and note that Tagete smells bad and its odour is annoying (Hagecius, Herbarz: ginak Bylinář, 1562: CCCXIX; Handsch, New Kreüterbuch, 1563: 452v-453r; Boodt, Florum, Herbarum, ac fructuum selectionum icones, 1640: 73). Other scholars even claimed that cempoalxochitl causes blisters, leprosy, and kills cats and mice (‘Sie einen Gifft bey sich haben, welches man an Katzen und Mäusen versucht, die des Saamens dieser Blumen gegessen und davon gestorben’, Erasmus Francisus, Ost- und West-Indischer wie auch Sinesischer Lust- und Stats-Garten, 1668, 378; cf. Weinmann, Johann Anton, Phythanthoza iconographia, vol. II, Ratisbona: Hieronymus Lenzius, 1737–1739: 65). These opinions were sometimes even ‘translated’ into the visual discourse: for instance, in one of the engravings of Crispijn van de Passe, we see a dead rat under an African marigold. Depicted nearby is a flesh fly Sarcophaga carnari, which is often associated with decaying flesh, and a snail, which could likewise be perceived as a symbol of death. The African marigold appears together with a flesh fly also in some miniatures by Joris Hoefnagel. (Not only) in this case, one can thus interpret the smell of marigold as an instance of signatura rerum.

On the other hand, the strong and heavy odour of marigold in conjunction with its bitter taste promised to have medicinal effects similar to those of herbs with similar smells and flavours, such as the immortelle (Helichrysum arenarium) or chrysanthemum (Chrysanthemum). For example, Hagecius concludes that marigold’s flavour and scent – which he found disagreeable and irritating – are similar to those of the ‘golden flower’ (i.e., chrysanthemum) which is why the two plants can be expected to have similar medicinal properties (Hagecius, Herbarz: ginak Bylinář, 1562: CCCXIX). Still, the ‘Indian carnation’ appeared also in the context of some pleasant smells. For example, we can find it in two 16th-century Central European herbals: one by Hieronymus Harder, the other by Johann Brehe (Broumov). In these instances, we find some of the oldest specimens of marigolds presented alongside various fragrant and pleasant flowers. In Harder's case, it is the honeysuckle (Lonicera caprifolium), a highly aromatic flower with intense smell especially in the afternoon, which attracts large numbers of insects (Harder, 1576-1600. Herbarium vivum). In the Broumov herbarium, the marigold is placed next to the damask-violet (Hesperis matronalis; its Czech name, večernice vonná, could be translated as Hesperis odorata), a flower that is intensely aromatic, highly valued, and its flowers smell once again especially in the afternoon and in the evening (Brehe, 1595. Hortus sicus). In florilegiums, such as that of Theodor de Bry (Florilegium Renovatum Et Auctum: Das ist: Vernewertes und vermehrtes Blumenbuch), specimens of the Tagetes are also depicted next to pleasantly fragrant flowers. Marigold even appears in various allegories of the senses, such as the Allegory of Smell by Jan Brueghel the Elder and Peter Paul Rubens, where it is positioned close to Venus. Still, this does not necessarily mean that its odour was perceived as pleasant.

The cempoalxochitl originated in Mexico. Its importance for the Nahua culture is undeniable: it is mentioned in codices and its images figure in the ‘painted paradise’; of the Augustine monastery in Malinalco. There are even testimonies about offerings of cempoalxochitl in the Great Temple (Templo mayor) during sacrifices and its cultivation in chinampas, the floating gardens of Xochimilco, where it was planted as part of ‘milpa’ (a crop-growing system used throughout Mesoamerica, composed mainly of corn, beans, squash, and chilli). Compared to other plants of New Spain, little is known about how cempoalxochitl arrived in Europe. The first mention of Tagetes Indica in a European context (‘Indianische negelen’ in German) appears in a work of the German botanist Leonhardt Fuchs in 1542. Hieronymus Bock – like other prominent botanists of his time – speculated and claimed that the ‘carnation of the Indies’ had been found in Africa during the conquest of Tunis by Charles V. This is the source of the common confusion of Tagete with an African plant and of the continuing references to that effect: in various languages, its name includes various versions of africanus (e.g., ‘African marigold’), in Czech it is even popularly known as ‘the African’ (‘afrikán’). It grew in gardens, ‘flowered’ on the canvases of many artists and was a mainstay of herbals. In Early Modern Europe, the African marigold was almost omnipresent, a veritable celebrity among flowers. It was, and still is, highly valued for its ornamental properties and it remains popular to this day. In India, where was brought probably by the Portuguese, it is called ‘gendha’ (holy flower) and was used during the Hindu harvest festival of Desehra. In its native country, Mexico, it is nowadays associated mainly with the Day of the Dead: its flowers and petals are scattered on altars to the dead and on thresholds, where they are supposed to entice the souls to visit their homes. It is still found in pharmacies and in kitchens, where not only its smell but also its taste is appreciated as stimulating. For example, one can try marigold ice cream or a marigold pulque, which is a traditional Mexican alcoholic beverage produced by fermenting fresh agave sap known as ‘aguamiel’. The pulque was the sacred drink of Nahuas, who used it in offerings to the gods but also for medicinal purposes.

The most important practices connected to marigold were ritual, medicinal, horticultural, and ornamental ones. In pre-Hispanic culture, the ‘flower of twenty petals’ played a prominent role in all these areas. On top of appreciating its medicinal effects, the Nahuas considered it sacred. Because of its colouring, it had been linked to various deities: the Sun, Fire, Earth, Rain, the Mountains, and Corn. Due to its intense fragrance, the marigold was believed to function as a means of communication with supernatural beings – and protection against them. That is why it was part of sacrificial offerings made to various gods during celebrations of the Nahua calendar and that is why it was – and still is – used in ceremonies for the dead. Sahagún and Hernández mention its various ritual uses among the Nahuas: marigold flowers ‘could be smelled’ before sacrifices, for instance during the festivals of Tecuilhuitontli dedicated to the deities Huixtocíhuatl and Xochipilli. First references to a medicinal use of marigolds are found in the Codex de la Cruz-Badiano, where the botanists speak of two varieties of cempoalxochitl: one called ‘copaliyac xiuhtontli’, the other ‘chiyahuaxihutl’. The former was used to treat inflammation of the stomach and was drunk in the form of pulque. The later was used to make juice, which when mixed with ground human and dog bones was said to eliminate ‘armpit odour’ (‘the goat smell’) (Cruz, Badiano, 1552: 30v, and 54v.).

Spanish physician Francisco Hernández in his natural history of New Spain informed the Spanish crown about medicinal properties of the ‘flower of twenty petals’: among other things, he cited its ability to restore appetite, temper a cold stomach, or inflame carnal passions. He did not, however, mention the ritual uses of cempoalxochitl among the Nahuas because as the chief medical officer (‘protomédico general de las Indias’) he worked for the king, Phillip II, and while the Spanish crown was eminently interested in the plant’s medicinal and practical uses, its symbolic dimension in the pre-Hispanic world was irrelevant. Nevertheless, another of Hernandez’ works, Antigüedades de la Nueva España, clearly shows that he was aware of the cultural significance of marigold and the use of its intense fragrance during the fiestas of Tecuilhuitontli (Hernández, Antigüedades de la Nueva España, Lib. III, Cap. IX). In other words, Hernández intentionally stripped the cempoalxochitl of its pre-Hispanic attire. Such deliberate overlooking or outright concealing of information about certain effects or uses of plants from the New World was frequent. Such instances add to our understanding of the circulation of knowledge in Early Modern Europe by serving as a counterexample, a case where knowledge was deliberately not shared (Cf. Londa Schiebenger and her concept of cultural agnotology). It was probably also the case of yauhtli (pericón, Tagetes lucida). Spaniards were well aware of its ritual uses among the Nahua and of its delirogenic effects. In fact, that may be why the flower did not reach Europe until the 19th century (Černá, 2023/2024, in Pimentel, Černá, Morales). The African marigold was one of American plants cultivated in Europe already in the 16th century: in gardening manuals from that period, we can thus find recommendations and advice about planting, transplanting, or watering it (e.g., Cultura de Jardins, 1703). Compared to many other plants (e.g., pineapple; see Mundy, 2023/2024, in Pimentel, Černá, Morales) it was not difficult to transport and grow it in European – even Central European – conditions. Marigold found its way into herbals already in the 16th century, and the oldest specimens preserved in Europe are almost 500 years old. We also find depicted its archetypal forms in albums that later served as models for artists (e.g., the ‘paper museum’ of Emperor Rudolph II; see Egmond 2017: 22-30).

The feelings connected with the smell of marigold derive primarily from its uses in ceremonies for the dead, past as well as present. Nowadays, it is believed that the colour and scent of cempoalxochitl flowers heaped upon altars to the dead and at entryways lead the souls back to spaces where they will be welcomed. In Mexico, the marigold is thus associated with sorrow as well as joy: feelings of nostalgia, longing for the dear departed ones, but also a celebration of their previous lives. This ambivalence is given by a distinctive Mexican attitude to death characterised by coexistence with death, which is much more complex and different from simple awareness of its inevitability (Octavio Paz, El laberinto de la soledad. Cf. Sánchez, 2013: 168-189). For Europeans, the smell of the marigold evoked disgust or fear of disease, sickness, weakness, and even death (Huber, Hagecius, Boodt). Some may have also felt certain curiosity and expect beneficial effects of the Mexican flower, be it medicinal or aphrodisiac. Despite the unpleasant smell, Europeans appreciated the flower’s aesthetic qualities and admired its beauty, be it in its natural form or as immortalized by the brushes of painters.

When Europeans began to discover the astonishing natural wealth of the New World, they found many plants that were ‘naked’ to them, which from their point of view had no identity. It was the German botanist Otto Brunfels who coined the term herbae nudae (‘naked plants’) to refer to plants unknown to the classical authors and therefore lacking a Latin name. In anthologies of these ‘plants without clothing’, there soon appeared an aromatic, brilliantly coloured flower, the cempoalxochitl. European explorers and naturalists gave it various names, including ‘carnation of the Indies’, ‘African carnation’, or ‘Sammet-Blume’. They touched, sniffed, tasted it, and tried to give it a new dress woven from their own experience and a web of analogies. But the flower was not as naked as the Europeans had thought. It had – like other herbae nudae – its previous cultural and social life, its previous identity.

In Mexico, its identity derived from its relations with various deities (such as Huixtocíhuatl and Xochipilli) and, perhaps most importantly, from its symbolic dimension of being the ‘flower of the dead’ (‘flor de muertos’). Once it left its native soil and spread throughout Europe, the marigold usually lost its Mesoamerican origins and meanings, its original identity. In these other cultural contexts, it took on other lives. Cempoalxochitl was often thought to be of African origin, which is still reflected in some of the names used to denote this plant: ‘afrikán’ in Czech or ‘African marigold’ in English. Other European names assigned the cempoalxochitl an exotic and ‘pagan’ identity associated with a number of other lands as well: it was called flos Indianus, Turkish carnation, Moor’s carnation, and the list could go on. Invariably, though, the ‘pagan flower’ was perceived as having a sharp and unpleasant aroma.

The cempoalxochitl thus received new identities: some were completely new, other were hybrid, emerging in the process of miscegenation and conversion (proceso de mestizaje, Gruzinski, medicina de conversión, Pardo Tomás). One curious example is the name ‘Clavel de Cap de Mort’, which appears in the Catalan manuscript Cultura de Jardins (1703). The name means ‘dead man’s head’, which is noteworthy because one can assume that – consciously or unconsciously – the cempoalxochitl had thus retained something from its Mexican life. Another surprising example of the circulation and cultural (re)interpretation of knowledge is the following: both Hagecius and Huber compared the Tagetes with the chrysanthemum. They did so based on certain external similarities between the two, but there are also symbolic similarities. Like the cempoalxochitl in pre-Hispanic culture, chrysanthemum was in ancient European cultures also related to the sun and to death. In some European countries, chrysanthemums symbolise death and are used almost exclusively at funerals and to decorate graves. Perhaps the European scholars who saw similarities between these two plants were aware of their significance in the Nahua culture. This possibility seems to be supported by what Mattioli noted in his Discorsi: ‘If I could, I would say that this plant was for the Indians a sort of chrysanthemum.’ Obviously, Mattioli had information about the significance of the cempoalxochitl for ‘Indians’ (Mattioli, 1585: 612).

In India, the marigold took on yet another identity: it is used there during several festivals, including for instance the Hindu harvest festival of Desehra. It is thus clear that the marigold has never been naked. On the contrary, it had many identities depending on specific cultures. One of its identities, however, could be considered global, and that is its identity of an ornamental and decorative flower.

No two noses are alike. Different cultures, too, have different sensibilities and ‘osmologies’, that is, classifications and hierarchies of odours (Classen, Howes, Synnot, 1994: 97-119). One should thus interpret the encounter between the New and the Old World also as a meeting of different sensibilities and epistemologies of the senses and, as various testimonies show, as a radical olfactory shock. The European culture was, if not odorophobic, then certainly not odorophilic. For the Nahuas, on the contrary, olfaction definitely did not have a status of a ‘minor sense’. When considering Nahua sensibility, we should dispense with the Western/European classifications of senses and imagine a different, synesthetic one. For instance, in the Nahua culture, flowers and their aromas were essentially related to sounds, music, and poetry (Marcy Norton, in Pimentel, Černá, and Morales, 2023/2024).

In Mexico, the aroma of cempoalxochitl was perceived in a highly specific context. The Nahua noses were in a constant dialogue with the ears: each celebration had both its own smell and its soundscape. In other words, there were specific links between certain sounds and smells. The rulers and the shamans had some of the most highly trained noses: The rulers had the privilege of smelling all flowers, even the most precious ones, such as the yolloxochitl (Magnolia Mexicana), cacaloxochitl (Plumeria rubra), etc., which were forbidden to the general population under penalty of death. The shamans needed perceptive noses to communicate successfully with supernatural beings (e.g., when preparing incense, which often contained yauhtli, Tagetes lucida).

In Europe, erudite use of a well-trained nose was decisive (and sometimes quite literally vitally important) in materia medica. In the discourse of Galenic materia medica, the sense of smell was second in importance only to taste when it came to identifying the qualities and medicinal properties of the ‘naked plants’. Smell also had its defenders, scholars who emphasised its epistemic value, such as Hieronymus Bock, Rembert Dodoens, Adrian van den Spiegel, Thaddeus Hagecius, and Adam Huber. They came to believe that although unpleasant, the smell of cempoalxochitl is a sign of the flower's potential medicinal usefulness. Hagecius, for instance, notes that there is no written information about the medicinal effects of ‘Karafillát indický’ (Indian carnation), which is why – as in the case of other ‘naked’ herbs – the plant ought to be studied as to its fragrance and taste. After testing it in this manner, he concluded that its flavour and scent (both of which he found disagreeable and irritating) are similar to that of the ‘golden flower’, i.e., the chrysanthemum. Therefore, the two plants should have similar medicinal properties (Hagecius, Herbarz: ginak Bylinář, 1562: CCCXIX).

In other cases, while Europeans were keen to feast their eyes on the African marigold, they closed their noses to it. This not only attests to the flower’s disagreeable smell but also reveals a lot about their sensory preferences. The case of the Tagete thus illustrates not only the cultural conditionality of perception of floral odours but also confirms the predominance of visual perception in Europe. It clearly shows that while European culture was perhaps not odorophobic or anosmic – as some propose – it was certainly not odorophilic or odorocentric, at least in comparison with the Nahua culture.