X

The Dark History of Saint-Lazare: Paris’s Notorious Prison for Prostitutes

The Dark History of Saint-Lazare: Paris’s Notorious Prison for Prostitutes

What was the Saint-Lazare prison in Paris?

Saint-Lazare was a Parisian prison that primarily incarcerated prostitutes from the 19th century until 1935, operating as both a detention center and medical facility under France’s regulated prostitution system. Originally a leper hospital founded in the 12th century, Napoleon converted it into a prison in 1811. Its most infamous chapter began in 1836 when it became the central holding facility for women arrested under vice laws. Prostitutes deemed “insubordinate” – those without registration, violating health regulations, or resisting police control – were imprisoned here alongside petty criminals. The complex included workshops, hospital wards, and even a chapel, all surrounded by high walls that symbolized the state’s control over women’s bodies. By the late 1800s, Saint-Lazare held over 1,000 women at a time, becoming Paris’ primary institution for punishing “deviant” women.

How did France’s regulated prostitution system work?

France implemented a legalized prostitution system from 1804 to 1946 where registered sex workers were subjected to police surveillance and mandatory health checks, with Saint-Lazare serving as the enforcement mechanism. Under the “règlementation” system, prostitutes were required to register with the Police des Mœurs (Vice Squad), carry identification cards, and work only in licensed brothels (maisons closes). They endured twice-weekly invasive medical exams for sexually transmitted infections. Those found infected were forcibly confined at Saint-Lazare’s infirmary. Unregistered “clandestine” sex workers faced immediate arrest. This system, championed by hygienist Alexandre Parent-Duchâtelet, treated prostitution as a “necessary evil” requiring state control rather than addressing poverty or gender inequality that drove women into the trade.

What powers did the Police des Mœurs have?

The Police des Mœurs held extraordinary authority to detain, examine, and imprison women without trial under vague “morality” charges. Plainclothes officers could demand registration cards from any woman in public spaces, arresting those who couldn’t produce documentation. They conducted raids on cafes and streets, often targeting working-class neighborhoods. Arrested women faced summary judgments from commissioners who could order indefinite confinement at Saint-Lazare. This system enabled rampant corruption, with officers extorting bribes from both registered prostitutes and terrified civilians. Famous writer Émile Zola documented these abuses in his novel “Nana,” exposing how the police terrorized vulnerable women under the guise of public health.

How did registration impact women’s lives?

Registration created a permanent underclass of stigmatized women who lost civil rights and faced constant surveillance. Once added to the “ledger of shame,” women couldn’t work elsewhere, change addresses without permission, or appear in public without their yellow registration card. Their names were published in police bulletins, leading to social ostracization. Many were trapped in brothels run by abusive madams who took most earnings. Attempts to leave prostitution resulted in arrest for “violating registration terms,” with Saint-Lazare as their destination. This system particularly targeted poor, uneducated women – about 70% were illiterate migrants from rural areas, unable to navigate legal complexities.

What were conditions like inside Saint-Lazare?

Saint-Lazare combined medieval squalor with clinical cruelty: overcrowded cells, forced labor, and brutal medical treatments defined daily existence. Women slept 3-4 to a straw mattress in damp, unheated cells infested with rats. Inmates wore coarse linen uniforms and wooden clogs, their heads shaved upon entry as humiliation. Days involved 10-hour shifts in prison workshops sewing military uniforms or laundering hospital linens. The infirmary, ironically called the “special service,” subjected syphilitic women to mercury fumigation treatments that caused vomiting, hair loss, and neurological damage. Suicide attempts were common, with bars installed on windows after multiple inmates threw themselves into the courtyard.

How did prison authorities “rehabilitate” prostitutes?

Rehabilitation focused on religious indoctrination and forced domestic training rather than practical support for reintegration. The Sisters of Marie-Joseph, who ran daily operations, imposed strict prayer schedules and compulsory confession. Inmates attended morality lectures portraying them as sinners needing redemption. Workshops taught sewing and laundering – skills already common among these working-class women. No vocational training addressed actual employment barriers like stigma or lack of education. Upon release, women received 5 francs and a dress, but their police records ensured few could find legitimate work, creating a revolving-door incarceration cycle.

What medical abuses occurred in the prison infirmary?

The infirmary functioned as a medical prison where experimental treatments were administered without consent, prioritizing public health over patient welfare. Doctors used mercury injections and arsenic-based “cures” that often caused more harm than syphilis itself. Women were restrained during painful genital exams with unsterilized instruments. Pregnant inmates received no prenatal care – newborns were immediately sent to orphanages while mothers served extended sentences. Death records show tuberculosis and sepsis as leading causes of death, exacerbated by malnutrition. Photographer Eugène Atget’s haunting 1901 images of the infirmary reveal barren rooms with barred windows, documenting institutional neglect.

Who fought against the Saint-Lazare system?

Abolitionist movements led by feminists and physicians exposed Saint-Lazare’s horrors, with Josephine Butler’s international campaign proving pivotal. British activist Butler founded the International Abolitionist Federation in 1875 after visiting Parisian prisons. Her investigations revealed how registration laws enabled trafficking of minors – some girls at Saint-Lazare were as young as 12. French journalist Yves Guyot published “La Prostitution” in 1882 with testimonies from escapees describing torture and rape by guards. Physician Auguste Forel condemned mandatory exams as scientifically futile since they didn’t test male clients. Their coalition pressured politicians for decades, using Saint-Lazare as symbolic evidence of systemic abuse.

How did artists expose the prison’s realities?

Painters and writers transformed incarcerated women from statistics into human stories, shifting public perception. Toulouse-Lautrec sketched prisoners during his 1899 confinement for alcoholism, capturing their hollow-eyed despair. Journalist Albert Londres’ 1923 exposé “The Road to Buenos Aires” traced how Saint-Lazare fed international sex trafficking networks. Most impactfully, Eugène Dabit’s novel “Hôtel du Nord” (1929) featured a protagonist imprisoned there, describing the “nauseating smell of carbolic acid and misery.” These depictions eroded the official narrative of Saint-Lazare as a benevolent quarantine facility, revealing it as a punitive institution for the poor.

Why did regulated prostitution end in France?

The Marthe Richard Law abolished legal prostitution in 1946 after decades of activism and post-war political shifts, though Saint-Lazare had closed earlier. Prostitution’s association with Nazi collaboration during the Occupation discredited the regulatory model. Feminist politician Marthe Richard, drawing on her pre-war abolitionist work, persuaded the Provisional Government that state-sanctioned vice contradicted France’s liberated identity. Saint-Lazare itself closed in 1935 after journalist Louis Roubaud’s scandalous reports prompted public outcry, with inmates transferred elsewhere. The prison’s demolition began in 1935, though its chapel remains near the Gare Saint-Lazare as an overlooked relic of this dark era.

What happened to the site after closure?

The demolished prison became commercial developments, but its legacy persists in medical and cultural institutions that inherited its functions. Today’s Hôpital Saint-Lazare occupies part of the site, continuing the medical control ethos through its addiction treatment programs. The former chapel houses fashion showrooms – an ironic repurposing given the prison’s history of punishing women’s bodies. Memorial plaques remain absent despite historians’ petitions, reflecting ongoing societal discomfort with this history. Current debates about sex work laws often reference Saint-Lazare as a cautionary example of regulatory failure.

How does Saint-Lazare’s history influence modern policies?

Contemporary debates about sex work laws directly engage with Saint-Lazare’s legacy, particularly regarding state registration and medical control. France’s 2016 law criminalizing clients echoes abolitionist arguments that targeting demand prevents exploitation. Critics note parallels with past moral policing, citing how current penalties still disproportionately impact migrant and poor women. The “health pass” system proposed during COVID-19 also triggered historical alarms among activists who recalled the registration cards. Meanwhile, prison reform advocates reference Saint-Lazare when condemning overcrowded detention centers, proving how this 19th-century institution remains a potent symbol in justice discussions.

What memorialization efforts exist today?

Grassroots projects are reclaiming the erased histories of incarcerated women through archival research and public art. The Association pour la Mémoire des Femmes Prisonnières hosts walking tours detailing prisoners’ experiences near the former site. Artist Suzanne Doppelt’s installation “Registry of Shame” reconstructed fragments of prison intake records to humanize the anonymized women. Most powerfully, descendants of former inmates have shared family letters describing how great-grandmothers were imprisoned for “offenses” like having a police officer’s child. These efforts counter official histories that minimized the prison’s brutality for decades.

Categories: Canada Quebec
Professional: