15 April 1766

On 15 April 1766, the provost court of Grasse delivered its verdict against Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, the journeyman perfumer who had confessed to the murders of twenty-five young women. The sentence, read to the accused in his cell, was among the most severe in the penal code of the ancien régime: Grenouille was to be led within forty-eight hours to the parade ground before the city gates, bound to a wooden cross with his face turned toward heaven, and while still alive dealt twelve blows with an iron rod, breaking the joints of his arms, legs, hips and shoulders. He was then to be left hanging on the cross until death. The customary act of mercy—strangulation with a cord once the body had been crushed—was expressly forbidden the executioner, even if the agonies of death should take days. His body was to be buried by night in an unmarked grave in the knacker's yard.

The Verdict and Its Context

The sentence of 15 April 1766 was the culmination of a judicial process that had moved with extraordinary speed. The evidence against Grenouille was overwhelming: the clothes and hair of all twenty-five victims had been unearthed in his cabin, the wooden club used to kill them was found, and the accused himself freely confessed to all the murders charged against him. When questioned about his motives, however, he gave no convincing answer, repeating only that he had "needed" the girls. Torture—hanging by the feet, pumping with seven pints of water, clamping his feet—produced no further explanation; the man seemed immune to physical pain. The judges considered him insane and discontinued the interrogation. A legal squabble with the magistrate of Draguignan and the parliament in Aix, both of whom wanted to take over the trial, caused the only delay. But the judges of Grasse refused to surrender the case: the overwhelming majority of the murders had been committed in their jurisdiction, and the pent-up anger of the citizenry demanded that Grenouille's blood flow in Grasse.

The Execution That Never Happened

The execution was scheduled for five in the afternoon. Carpenters built a scaffold nine feet square and six feet high, with a railing and a sturdy set of stairs—the finest Grasse had ever seen. A wooden grandstand was erected for local notables, and a fence separated them from the common people. Places at windows in the buildings around the porte du Cours were rented at exorbitant rates. The executioner, Monsieur Papon, had a heavy, squared iron rod forged for him and went to the slaughterhouse to practise blows on carcasses, for he was permitted only twelve hits and had to crush all twelve joints without damaging the vital body parts. The citizens readied themselves as for a high holiday: women ironed their holiday dresses, men dusted off their frock coats, and those who held military rank or public office donned their uniforms, medals, sashes and periwigs. Pious folk intended to assemble for religious services afterward; the disciples of Satan planned a luciferian mass of thanksgiving; the educated aristocracy prepared for magnetic séances. The roasting and baking had begun in the kitchens, the wine had been fetched from the cellars, and the organist and choir were practising in the cathedral.

The Collapse of Justice

When Grenouille arrived at the parade ground in a carriage—driven to his own execution in a coach with liveried footmen and a mounted guard, an unprecedented spectacle—he was wearing a blue frock coat, a white shirt, white silk stockings and buckled black shoes. He was not bound. As he stepped out, the ten thousand people assembled on the grounds and the surrounding slopes were infused with the unshakeable belief that this man could not possibly be a murderer. The executioner's hands trembled; he could not lift his iron rod. The police lieutenant and the officer of the guard wept and cast themselves to the ground. The bishop slumped forward, banging his forehead against his knees, overcome by religious rapture. The scheduled execution degenerated into the largest orgy the world had seen since the second century before Christ: respectable women ripped open their blouses, men fell down and copulated in impossible combinations, and the air grew heavy with the sweet odour of sweating lust. Antoine Richis, the father of the last victim, ran to Grenouille and embraced him, calling him "my son" and begging forgiveness. Grenouille, who had intended to die, was instead adopted by the man whose daughter he had murdered. The verdict of 15 April 1766 was never carried out. The scaffold and grandstand were dismantled, the case files were closed and placed in the archives without registry, and a new investigation was opened against the "thus-far unidentified murderer." Dominique Druot, Grenouille's former colleague, was arrested, tortured into confessing, and hanged in Grenouille's place. The town of Grasse forgot the entire affair so completely that travellers who inquired about the infamous murderer found not a single sane person who could give them any information.