Perfumer. The story of a killer
IN
EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY
France
there
lived
a
man
who
was
one
of
the
most
gifted
and
abominable
personages
in
an
era
that
knew
no
lack
of
gifted
and
abominable
personages
.
His
story
will
be
told
here
.
His
name
was
Jean-Baptiste
Grenouille
,
and
if
his
name-in
contrast
to
the
names
of
other
gifted
abominations
,
de
Sade
's
,
for
instance
,
or
Saint-Just
's
,
Fbuche
's
,
Bonaparte
's
,
etc.-has
been
forgotten
today
,
it
is
certainly
not
because
Grenouille
fell
short
of
those
more
famous
blackguards
when
it
came
to
arrogance
,
misanthropy
,
immorality
,
or
,
more
succinctly
,
to
wickedness
,
but
because
his
gifts
and
his
sole
ambition
were
restricted
to
a
domain
that
leaves
no
traces
in
history
:
to
the
fleeting
realm
of
scent.In
the
period
of
which
we
speak
,
there
reigned
in
the
cities
a
stench
barely
conceivable
to
us
modern
men
and
women
.
The
streets
stank
of
manure
,
the
courtyards
of
urine
,
the
stairwells
stank
of
moldering
wood
and
rat
droppings
,
the
kitchens
of
spoiled
cabbage
and
mutton
fat
;
the
unaired
parlors
stank
of
stale
dust
,
the
bedrooms
of
greasy
sheets
,
damp
featherbeds
,
and
the
pungently
sweet
aroma
of
chamber
pots
.
The
stench
of
sulfur
rose
from
the
chimneys
,
the
stench
of
caustic
lyes
from
the
tanneries
,
and
from
the
slaughterhouses
came
the
stench
of
congealed
blood
.
People
stank
of
sweat
and
unwashed
clothes
;
from
their
mouths
came
the
stench
of
rotting
teeth
,
from
their
bellies
that
of
onions
,
and
from
their
bodies
,
if
they
were
no
longer
very
young
,
came
the
stench
of
rancid
cheese
and
sour
milk
and
tumorous
disease
.
The
rivers
stank
,
the
marketplaces
stank
,
the
churches
stank
,
it
stank
beneath
the
bridges
and
in
the
palaces.The
peasant
stank
as
did
the
priest
,
the
apprentice
as
did
his
master
's
wife
,
the
whole
of
the
aristocracy
stank
,
even
the
king
himself
stank
,
stank
like
a
rank
lion
,
and
the
queen
like
an
old
goat
,
summer
and
winter
.
For
in
the
eighteenth
century
there
was
nothing
to
hinder
bacteria
busy
at
decomposition
,
and
so
there
was
no
human
activity
,
either
constructive
or
destructive
,
no
manifestation
of
germinating
or
decaying
life
that
was
not
accompanied
by
stench.And
of
course
the
stench
was
foulest
in
Paris
,
for
Paris
was
the
largest
city
of
France
.
And
in
turn
there
was
a
spot
in
Paris
under
the
sway
of
a
particularly
fiendish
stench
:
between
the
rue
aux
Fers
and
the
rue
de
la
Ferronnerie
,
the
Cimetiere
des
Innocents
to
be
exact
.
For
eight
hundred
years
the
dead
had
been
brought
here
from
the
Hotel-Dieu
and
from
the
surrounding
parish
churches
,
for
eight
hundred
years
,
day
in
,
day
out
,
corpses
by
the
dozens
had
been
carted
here
and
tossed
into
long
ditches
,
stacked
bone
upon
bone
for
eight
hundred
years
in
the
tombs
and
charnel
houses
.
Only
later-on
the
eve
of
the
Revolution
,
after
several
of
the
grave
pits
had
caved
in
and
the
stench
had
driven
the
swollen
graveyard
's
neighbors
to
more
than
mere
protest
and
to
actual
insurrection
-
was
it
finally
closed
and
abandoned
.
Millions
of
bones
and
skulls
were
shoveled
into
the
catacombs
of
Montmartre
and
in
its
place
a
food
market
was
erected.Here
,
then
,
on
the
most
putrid
spot
in
the
whole
kingdom
,
Jean-Baptiste
Grenouilie
was
born
on
July
17
,
1738
.
It
was
one
of
the
hottest
days
of
the
year
.
The
heat
lay
leaden
upon
the
graveyard
,
squeezing
its
putrefying
vapor
,
a
blend
of
rotting
melon
and
the
fetid
odor
of
burnt
animal
horn
,
out
into
the
nearby
alleys
.
When
the
labor
pains
began
,
Grenouille
's
mother
was
standing
at
a
fish
stall
in
the
rue
aux
Fers
,
scaling
whiting
that
she
had
just
gutted
.
The
fish
,
ostensibly
taken
that
very
morning
from
the
Seine
,
already
stank
so
vilely
that
the
smell
masked
the
odor
of
corpses
.
Grenouille
's
mother
,
however
,
perceived
the
odor
neither
of
the
fish
nor
of
the
corpses
,
for
her
sense
of
smell
had
been
utterly
dulled
,
besides
which
her
belly
hurt
,
and
the
pain
deadened
all
susceptibility
to
sensate
impressions
.
She
only
wanted
the
pain
to
stop
,
she
wanted
to
put
this
revolting
birth
behind
her
as
quickly
as
possible
.
It
was
her
fifth
.
She
had
effected
all
the
others
here
at
the
fish
booth
,
and
all
had
been
stillbirths
or
semi-stillbirths
,
for
the
bloody
meat
that
had
emerged
had
not
differed
greatly
from
the
fish
guts
that
lay
there
already
,
nor
had
lived
much
longer
,
and
by
evening
the
whole
mess
had
been
shoveled
away
and
carted
off
to
the
graveyard
or
down
to
the
river
.
It
would
be
much
the
same
this
day
,
and
Grenouille
's
mother
,
who
was
still
a
young
woman
,
barely
in
her
mid-twenties
,
and
who
still
was
quite
pretty
and
had
almost
all
her
teeth
in
her
mouth
and
some
hair
on
her
head
and-except
for
gout
and
syphilis
and
a
touch
of
consumption-suffered
from
no
serious
disease
,
who
still
hoped
to
live
a
while
yet
,
perhaps
a
good
five
or
ten
years
,
and
perhaps
even
to
marry
one
day
and
as
the
honorable
wife
of
a
widower
with
a
trade
or
some
such
to
bear
real
children
...
Grenouille
's
mother
wished
that
it
were
already
over
.
And
when
the
final
contractions
began
,
she
squatted
down
under
the
gutting
table
and
there
gave
birth
,
as
she
had
done
four
times
before
,
and
cut
the
newborn
thing
's
umbilical
cord
with
her
butcher
knife
.
But
then
,
on
account
of
the
heat
and
the
stench
,
which
she
did
not
perceive
as
such
but
only
as
an
unbearable
,
numbing
something-like
a
field
of
lilies
or
a
small
room
filled
with
too
many
daffodils-she
grew
faint
,
toppled
to
one
side
,
fell
out
from
under
the
table
into
the
street
,
and
lay
there
,
knife
in
hand.Tumult
and
turmoil
.
The
crowd
stands
in
a
circle
around
her
,
staring
,
someone
hails
the
police
.
The
woman
with
the
knife
in
her
hand
is
still
lying
in
the
street
.
Slowly
she
comes
to.What
has
happened
to
her
?
"
Nothing
.
"
What
is
she
doing
with
that
knife
?
"
Nothing
.
"
Where
does
the
blood
on
her
skirt
come
from
?
"
From
the
fish
.
"
She
stands
up
,
tosses
the
knife
aside
,
and
walks
off
to
wash.And
then
,
unexpectedly
,
the
infant
under
the
gutting
table
begins
to
squall
.
They
have
a
look
,
and
beneath
a
swarm
of
flies
and
amid
the
offal
and
fish
heads
they
discover
the
newborn
child
.
They
pull
it
out
.
As
prescribed
by
law
,
they
give
it
to
a
wet
nurse
and
arrest
the
mother
.
And
since
she
confesses
,
openly
admitting
that
she
would
definitely
have
let
the
thing
perish
,
just
as
she
had
with
those
other
four
by
the
way
,
she
is
tried
,
found
guilty
of
multiple
infanticide
,
and
a
few
weeks
later
decapitated
at
the
place
de
Greve.By
that
time
the
child
had
already
changed
wet
nurses
three
times
.
No
one
wanted
to
keep
it
for
more
than
a
couple
of
days
.
It
was
too
greedy
,
they
said
,
sucked
as
much
as
two
babies
,
deprived
the
other
sucklings
of
milk
and
them
,
the
wet
nurses
,
of
their
livelihood
,
for
it
was
impossible
to
make
a
living
nursing
just
one
babe
.
The
police
officer
in
charge
,
a
man
named
La
Fosse
,
instantly
wearied
of
the
matter
and
wanted
to
have
the
child
sent
to
a
halfway
house
for
foundlings
and
orphans
at
the
far
end
of
the
rue
Saint-Antoine
,
from
which
transports
of
children
were
dispatched
daily
to
the
great
public
orphanage
in
Rouen
But
since
these
convoys
were
made
up
of
porters
who
carried
bark
baskets
into
which
,
for
reasons
of
economy
,
up
to
four
infants
were
placed
at
a
time
;
since
therefore
the
mortality
rate
on
the
road
was
extraordinarily
high
;
since
for
that
reason
the
porters
were
urged
to
convey
only
baptized
infants
and
only
those
furnished
with
an
official
certificate
of
transport
to
be
stamped
upon
arrival
in
Rouen
;
since
the
babe
Grenouille
had
neither
been
baptized
nor
received
so
much
as
a
name
to
inscribe
officially
on
the
certificate
of
transport
;
since
,
moreover
,
it
would
not
have
been
good
form
for
the
police
anonymously
to
set
a
child
at
the
gates
of
the
halfway
house
,
which
would
have
been
the
only
way
to
dodge
the
other
formalities
...
thus
,
because
of
a
whole
series
of
bureaucratic
and
administrative
difficulties
that
seemed
likely
to
occur
if
the
child
were
shunted
aside
,
and
because
time
was
short
as
well
,
officer
La
Fosse
revoked
his
original
decision
and
gave
instructions
for
the
boy
to
be
handed
over
on
written
receipt
to
some
ecclesiastical
institution
or
other
,
so
that
there
they
could
baptize
him
and
decide
his
further
fate
.
He
got
rid
of
him
at
the
cloister
of
Saint-Merri
in
the
rue
Saint-Martin
.
There
they
baptized
him
with
the
name
Jean-Baptiste
.
And
because
on
that
day
the
prior
was
in
a
good
mood
and
the
eleemosynary
fund
not
yet
exhausted
,
they
did
not
have
the
child
shipped
to
Rouen
,
but
instead
pampered
him
at
the
cloister
's
expense
.
To
this
end
,
he
was
given
to
a
wet
nurse
named
Jeanne
Bussie
who
lived
in
the
rue
Saint-Denis
and
was
to
receive
,
until
further
notice
,
three
francs
per
week
for
her
trouble
.
A
FEW
WEEKS
later
,
the
wet
nurse
Jeanne
Bussie
stood
,
market
basket
in
hand
,
at
the
gates
of
the
cloister
of
Saint-Merri
,
and
the
minute
they
were
opened
by
a
bald
monk
of
about
fifty
with
a
light
odor
of
vinegar
about
him-Father
Terrier-she
said
"
There
!
"
and
set
her
market
basket
down
on
the
threshold
.
"
What
's
that
?
"
asked
Terrier
,
bending
down
over
the
basket
and
sniffing
at
it
,
in
the
hope
that
it
was
something
edible
.
"
The
bastard
of
that
woman
from
the
rue
aux
Fers
who
killed
her
babies
!
"
The
monk
poked
about
in
the
basket
with
his
finger
till
he
had
exposed
the
face
of
the
sleeping
infant
.
"
He
looks
good
.
Rosy
pink
and
well
nourished
.
""
Because
he
's
stuffed
himself
on
me
.
Because
he
's
pumped
me
dry
down
to
the
bones
.
But
I
've
put
a
stop
to
that
.
Now
you
can
feed
him
yourselves
with
goat
's
milk
,
with
pap
,
with
beet
juice
.
He
'll
gobble
up
anything
,
that
bastard
will
.
"
Father
Terrier
was
an
easygoing
man
.
Among
his
duties
was
the
administration
of
the
cloister
's
charities
,
the
distribution
of
its
moneys
to
the
poor
and
needy
.
And
for
that
he
expected
a
thank-you
and
that
he
not
be
bothered
further
.
He
despised
technical
details
,
because
details
meant
difficulties
and
difficulties
meant
ruffling
his
composure
,
and
he
simply
would
not
put
up
with
that
.
He
was
upset
that
he
had
even
opened
the
gate
.
He
wished
that
this
female
would
take
her
market
basket
and
go
home
and
let
him
alone
with
her
suckling
problems
.
Slowly
he
straightened
up
,
and
as
he
did
he
breathed
the
scent
of
milk
and
cheesy
wool
exuded
by
the
wet
nurse
.
It
was
a
pleasant
aroma
.
"
I
do
n't
understand
what
it
is
you
want
.
I
really
do
n't
understand
what
you
're
driving
at
.
I
can
only
presume
that
it
would
certainly
do
no
harm
to
this
infant
if
he
were
to
spend
a
good
while
yet
lying
at
your
breast
.
""
None
to
him
,
"
the
wet
nurse
snarled
back
,
"
but
plenty
to
me
.
I
've
lost
ten
pounds
and
been
eating
like
I
was
three
women
.
And
for
what
?
For
three
francs
a
week
!
""
Ah
,
I
understand
,
"
said
Terrier
,
almost
relieved
.
"
I
catch
your
drift
.
Once
again
,
it
's
a
matter
of
money
.
""
No
!
"
said
the
wet
nurse
.
"
Of
course
it
is
!
It
's
always
a
matter
of
money
.
When
there
's
a
knock
at
this
gate
,
it
's
a
matter
of
money
.
Just
once
I
'd
like
to
open
it
and
find
someone
standing
there
for
whom
it
was
a
matter
of
something
else
.
Someone
,
for
instance
,
with
some
little
show
of
thoughtfulness
.
Fruit
,
perhaps
,
or
a
few
nuts
.
After
all
,
in
autumn
there
are
lots
of
things
someone
could
come
by
with
.
Flowers
maybe
.
Or
if
only
someone
would
simply
come
and
say
a
friendly
word
.
'
God
bless
you
,
Father
Terrier
,
I
wish
you
a
good
day
!
'
But
I
'll
probably
never
live
to
see
it
happen
.
If
it
is
n't
a
beggar
,
it
's
a
merchant
,
and
if
it
is
n't
a
merchant
,
it
's
a
tradesman
,
and
if
it
is
n't
alms
he
wants
,
then
he
presents
me
with
a
bill
.
I
ca
n't
even
go
out
into
the
street
anymore
.
When
I
go
out
on
the
street
,
I
ca
n't
take
three
steps
before
I
'm
hedged
in
by
folks
wanting
money
!
""
Not
me
,
"
said
the
wet
nurse
.
"
But
I
'll
tell
you
this
:
you
are
n't
the
only
wet
nurse
in
the
parish
.
There
are
hundreds
of
excellent
foster
mothers
who
would
scramble
for
the
chance
of
putting
this
charming
babe
to
their
breast
for
three
francs
a
week
,
or
to
supply
him
with
pap
or
juices
or
whatever
nourishment
...
""
Then
give
him
to
one
of
them
!
""
...
On
the
other
hand
,
it
's
not
good
to
pass
a
child
around
like
that
.
Who
knows
if
he
would
flourish
as
well
on
someone
else
's
milk
as
on
yours
.
He
's
used
to
the
smell
of
your
breast
,
as
you
surely
know
,
and
to
the
beat
of
your
heart
.
"
And
once
again
he
inhaled
deeply
of
the
warm
vapors
streaming
from
the
wet
nurse.But
then
,
noticing
that
his
words
had
made
no
impression
on
her
,
he
said
,
"
Now
take
the
child
home
with
you
!
I
'll
speak
to
the
prior
about
all
this
.
I
shall
suggest
to
him
that
in
the
future
you
be
given
four
francs
a
week
.
""
No
,
"
said
the
wet
nurse
.
"
All
right-five
!
""
No
.
""
How
much
more
do
you
want
,
then
?
"
Terrier
shouted
at
her
.
"
Five
francs
is
a
pile
of
money
for
the
menial
task
of
feeding
a
baby
.
""
I
do
n't
want
any
money
,
period
,
"
said
the
wet
nurse
.
"
I
want
this
bastard
out
of
my
house
.
""
But
why
,
my
good
woman
?
"
said
Terrier
,
poking
his
finger
in
the
basket
again
.
"
He
really
is
an
adorable
child
.
He
's
rosy
pink
,
he
does
n't
cry
,
and
he
's
been
baptized
.
""
He
's
possessed
by
the
devil
.
"
Terrier
quickly
withdrew
his
finger
from
the
basket
.
"
Impossible
!
It
is
absolutely
impossible
for
an
infant
to
be
possessed
by
the
devil
.
An
infant
is
not
yet
a
human
being
;
it
is
a
prehuman
being
and
does
not
yet
possess
a
fully
developed
soul
.
Which
is
why
it
is
of
no
interest
to
the
devil
.
Can
he
talk
already
,
perhaps
?
Does
he
twitch
and
jerk
?
Does
he
move
things
about
in
the
room
?
Does
some
evil
stench
come
from
him
?
""
He
does
n't
smell
at
all
,
"
said
the
wet
nurse
.
"
And
there
you
have
it
!
That
is
a
clear
sign
.
If
he
were
possessed
by
the
devil
,
then
he
would
have
to
stink
.
"
And
to
soothe
the
wet
nurse
and
to
put
his
own
courage
to
the
test
,
Terrier
lifted
the
basket
and
held
it
up
to
his
nose
.
"
I
smell
absolutely
nothing
out
of
the
ordinary
,
"
he
said
after
he
had
sniffed
for
a
while
,
"
really
nothing
out
of
the
ordinary
.
Though
it
does
appear
as
if
there
's
an
odor
coming
from
his
diapers
.
"
And
he
held
out
the
basket
to
her
so
that
she
could
confirm
his
opinion
.
"
That
's
not
what
I
mean
,
"
-
said
the
wet
nurse
peevishly
,
shoving
the
basket
away
.
"
I
do
n't
mean
what
's
in
the
diaper
.
His
soil
smells
,
that
's
true
enough
.
But
it
's
the
bastard
himself
,
he
does
n't
smell
.
""
Because
he
's
healthy
,
"
Terrier
cried
,
"
because
he
's
healthy
,
that
's
why
he
does
n't
smell
!
Only
sick
babies
smell
,
everyone
knows
that
.
It
's
well
known
that
a
child
with
the
pox
smells
like
horse
manure
,
and
one
with
scarlet
fever
like
old
apples
,
and
a
consumptive
child
smells
like
onions
.
He
is
healthy
,
that
's
all
that
's
wrong
with
him
.
Do
you
think
he
should
stink
?
Do
your
own
children
stink
?
""
No
,
"
said
the
wet
nurse
.
"
My
children
smell
like
human
children
ought
to
smell
.
"
Terrier
carefully
placed
the
basket
back
on
the
ground
,
for
he
could
sense
rising
within
him
the
first
waves
of
his
anger
at
this
obstinate
female
.
