The Student Uprising of 1893: Paris's Forgotten Riot
- Paul Campbell
- 3 days ago
- 13 min read
The Prefect, The Model, and the Student
During the summer of 1893, what started as a small protest in Paris nearly became a revolution. When I first learned of these facts—quite by accident, as it is rare to find them mentioned in any ordinary history book—they fascinated me so entirely that it became the primary nail on which I hung the starting date of the Callahan Chronicles. Though the story twisted in ways I never expected, the reason the Callahan Chronicles begin in 1893 is because I wanted to place my characters in the midst of the Student Riot of 1893. You can find my version of the story in the third book of the series, Grayhound, but the facts as I know them are found here. These facts begin with Paris Prefect Henri-Auguste Lozé, whom my readers will surely recognize.
The Forgettable Prefect
Other than his record of service with the French Government, little is known about Henri-Auguste Lozé's life. Even less is known about Antoine-Felix Nuger, the young student who was fatally wounded during the Student Riots of 1893. The cause of the riots is a fact of history, and Lozé's actions—or lack thereof—were quickly blamed as the main instigation for inflaming what should have been a peaceful demonstration, but the true story is hardly so simple.
Lozé was born on the twentieth of January, 1850 near the Franco-Belgian border. His father is believed to have been a mayor, and it is possible that Lozé's father could have been the mayor of Le Cateau-Cambrésis, where Lozé was born. Ordinary sources, such as Wikipedia®, do not even mention his father by name and fail to mention his mother at all. Although I have found no information confirming his father's occupation, I was able to find his parent's names and some basic information on them thanks to Geneanet.org.
Lozé was an only child, but nothing else is known about his childhood. Whether he followed in his father's footsteps or not, we do know that he studied law at Sainte-Barbe college, which was then the oldest college in Paris, (and was interestingly the same college which Alfred Dreyfus would attend some years later, before the messy Dreyfus affair that derailed Dreyfus's life in 1894 and put such a stain on Alphonse Bertillon's life as well). After graduating law school, Lozé worked his way through the political ranks, serving at various prefectures around the edges of France in lesser-known districts until 1886, when he was appointed Préfet de la Somme, a far larger department than he had managed before. He served as Préfet de la Somme for two years and became Prefect of the Paris Police in 1888, where he served for the next five years.
Lozé's early political career is only remembered by the few notations in government documents listing the series of politicians who held those positions. Though unremarkable, Lozé was, by all appearances, entirely adequate. As insulting as this might seem, I believe it is a testament to a job well done. Failures are remembered far more readily than a record of consistent ability to perform a necessary task. The fact that Lozé continued in politics—and did well, even after the drastic events of 1893—is a firm indication that he was good at what he did. It is true that he never had any outstanding accomplishments which set him apart from his peers in any significant way, but this is true of countless men and women who, though forgotten by history, are absolutely vital to the advancements which others are given the opportunity to make.
While our culture puts such undue emphasis on the extraordinary, we often forget the true nobility and necessity of simply being ordinary.
Lozé held the position of Paris Prefect longer than the six previous men who held the post before him, and likely would have continued to retain it had not the Student Riots of 1893 upset the balance. His record alone is indicative that he performed well in the role, and the fact that no extraordinary successes link to his name should not diminish his long record of service.
Although it is true that the prefecture's methods at the time were viewed as corrupt—and likely there were sufficient examples to prove this fact—it is unjust to place the blame wholly on Lozé, especially when the biography of Alphonse Bertillon displays a less-than-exemplary series of prefects and shoddy investigative work long before Lozé arrived to the position.
Lozé is hardly remembered at all, while his contemporary, Alphonse Bertillon, is often remembered for his testimony in the infamous Dreyfus affair a few years later. Just as it is unfair to wholly blame Bertillon for the wrongful imprisonment of Alfred Dreyfus, it is also unjust to wholly blame Lozé for the death of Antoine-Felix Nuger during the Student Riots of 1893. It is fair to say that Lozé was fully capable of performing the operation of a smoothly running prefecture, but when Lozé was appointed to the Paris Prefecture, it was not a smoothly running prefecture.
Lozé's ultimate failure, then, was in failing to make the right changes necessary for the prefecture's survival—but this was no ordinary task, and the prefecture was not ready for change. Bertillon faced constant resistance in his attempts to modernize the French police force. The world moved forward while the prefecture did not. Yet, change was coming, and, like Bertillon, who unjustly bore the brunt of the blame for the messy Dreyfus affair, Lozé also became the scapegoat who took the blame for the Student Riots of 1893.
The Fiery Model
It began with what is likely the world's most notable frat party: the Bal des Quat'z'Arts was an extravagant party put on by the college students of the Ecole des Beaux-Arts. The tradition had started the preceding year and been a great success. The college students then decided that the next should be even bigger, better, and more wild. The Ecole des Beaux-Arts taught art of all kinds, and the students were extremely capable of creating the floats, costumes, sets, and all other flamboyant accouterments necessary for a wild costume party. The students had an even better idea, however. The art school frequently hired young women as models for the artists to draw or sculpt—at pitifully low wages—and so the art students were quite familiar with many of Paris's models.
One in particular: Sarah Brown.
Her real name was Marie-Florentine Roger (or Royer), but everyone knew her as Sarah Brown. She had light skin and fiery red hair, and her personality was as fiery as her hair. She loved being the center of attention, and there was nothing she would not do in order to achieve it. Her antics made her a favorite among the predominantly male art students. Of course, she was invited to perform at the ball. Sarah Brown arrived as Cleopatra, dressed in little more than jewelry, and as the night continued and the liquor flowed freely, the end result was that Sarah Brown lost even what little clothing she had at the start. Sarah Brown would become notoriously famous for performing “France's first strip-tease.”
There are conflicting accounts about what exactly transpired that night, but it is probable that the drunken party-goers made quite a mess of themselves all over Paris. The Bal des quat'z'Arts became a yearly tradition, and one year's frivolities are recorded in The Bohemian Paris of Today, a book written by two young college students in the early 1900's who wrote and even sketched their entire adventures in Paris. The book is entirely factual and highly entertaining for anyone wanting a genuine glimpse into the exciting night-life of Paris, the hi-jinks of college students, and incontestable proof that “boys will be boys,” no matter what generation they exist within. The book is in the public domain and can be downloaded for free in the links below. The party which is described in The Bohemian Paris of Today required elaborate costumes, copious drinking, dancing, and partying—likely quite similar to the one that ended so badly in 1893. The party eventually spread to the streets of Paris. Massive floats, which were created as stage props, were paraded through the streets and then summarily dumped into the Seine river at the end of the night.
Whatever the specific events, they spread like wildfire, and, even if the bacchanal tastes of Bohemian Montmartre weren't incensed by the brazen display, the more aristocratic sections of Paris were not so quick to turn a blind eye. Word quickly reached the authorities. After an investigation, four models were arrested—including Sarah Brown—along with the organizer of the event. I have found varying claims as to the exact punishment. Some mention a prison term of 3 months, others mention a fine of 100 francs each. In Grayhound, I found that the fine fit my structure better. Now, I am no expert in French currency, but according to The Bohemian Paris of Today, the absolute cheapest apartments were 200 francs a year, so 100 francs would have been about six months rent or more. It is unknown where Sarah Brown and the other models got the money to pay this fine, as models in Paris at that time were not well-paid. Perhaps the prison term was the result of an inability to pay. Whatever the case, the proceedings enraged the students, who all adored the incomparable Sarah Brown, the “Queen of Bohemia.”
I have found no official record of when Sarah Brown was actually arrested, but the Bal des Quat'z'Arts took place February 9th, while the protest, which must have been organized soon after the verdict, did not happen until July 1st. For story purposes, I have Sarah Brown's arrest the day before the protests begin, but this may not have been the case. The initial protest began peacefully on the Saturday following the verdict. An article about the riots,
printed in The Spectator on July 8th 1893, mentions that the Parisian police were known to be too brutal, but goes on to explain by saying: “Face to face with some of the worst ruffians in the world, accustomed to be attacked with lethal weapons, and always dreading dynamite bombs, the Force is irritable and disposed to violence, goes to extremities at once, [and] injures and arrests men who are quite innocent...” There were certainly hostile forces on both sides, and even directly after the events, no one knew exactly who was to blame for the fatal blow that killed Antoine-Felix Nuger.
The Fated Student
Even less is known about Antoine-Felix than is known about Prefect Lozé. The only information I was able to find about Antoine-Felix was some information about his family, again thanks to Geneanet.org, which has become an invaluable resource for French genealogies. They have no record of when his mother died, but his father, Antoine Nuger, lived until 1927 and is described as a “Commercial traveler, manager of the Catholic Union, merchant of religious objects, tobacconist.”
The family's story is one of tragedy. Antoine-Felix was born in 1870, the first of four children, none of which lived to see thirty. Antoine-Felix died just 10 days short of his 23rd birthday. His younger brother by a year, Jules Eugene, would die three years after Antoine-Felix in 1896 at the age of 25. His younger sister, Marie Berthe, was born in 1876 and died only two years later, while the youngest brother, Joannes Louis, died in infancy. Antoine-Felix was married, and though his wife's death is not recorded, his young daughter, born in 1890, died just two years later—a year before Antoine-Felix, himself. Antoine-Felix's father lived for thirty years after the deaths of his four children. The cause of death is unclear for Antoine-Felix's siblings, but Antoine-Felix's death is both known and tragic.
Tensions between the students and the police were frayed from the offset, and the peaceful protest became agitated. The students were angry and they pressed the police, who pushed back. Specifics are unknown, but somehow an unknown officer got hold of a porcelain snuff box, likely thrown at him from one of the students, and he threw it into the crowd of protesters. By a terribly unlucky accident, the porcelain snuffbox shattered. One of the shards struck Antoine-Felix in the throat, severing his artery. Geneanet.org records not only the day of his death, but the location as well. He managed to survive until the following day and died in the Café d'Harcourt in Paris. His father and mother were both born and married in Clermont-Ferrand, south of Paris, and Antoine-Felix's body was taken there for burial. In Grayhound, I have Antoine-Felix delivered by my fictional inspector, Jean Fournier, but there is no indication that any police escort returned the body. All we know for certain is that Antoine-Felix died in Paris and was buried in Clermont-Ferrand.
This tragic accident only enraged the students, but protests did not begin again until early the following Monday, July 4th. Even in secular Paris, Sundays were considered a day of rest. On Monday, however, the protesters returned with a vengeance, marching on the Chamber of Deputies to demand an explanation for the death of Antoine-Felix. With terribly poor foresight, the Chamber of Deputies retreated in secret, hoping the affair would blow over. The following morning, the crowd had doubled and were now entirely hostile, screaming “They assassinate us!.” This time, it was not only students who appeared at the protests but, as The Spectator reported, also “the unemployed, the more fanatic Communists, and the criminals did, and on Tuesday and Wednesday there were in Paris all the signs of revolt.” The Spectator goes on to say that “the students retreated from the conflict, declaring that they wanted a demonstration and not a revolt; but the evilly-disposed had got the bit in their mouths, and the police were attacked on all sides.” Those who remember the BLM riots—sorry, the “fiery, but mostly peaceful” protests—of 2020 in the aftermath of George Floyd's death will note some striking similarities. Strangely enough, the Student Uprising of 1893 is accurately called a riot, while the riots which destroyed multiple neighborhoods in several major cities across America in 2020 were called “peaceful protests.” At the risk of waxing political, I do find the similarities and differences of these two events quite striking, and rather ironic.
While the modern police response to the BLM riots was tepid at best, the French police doubled down on their obstinacy, which proved equally unwise. The rioters grew angrier, and the fighting worsened. Injuries were sustained on all sides, and with each new injury, more cries for justice were heard from the rioters. Overreactions increased on both sides. On Wednesday, all the medical surgeons of the Hôtel Dieu—the main hospital in Paris—were arrested simply because one medical student hissed at an officer. Paris was in upheaval; kiosks were thrown over, omnibuses overturned, and all indicators pointed to battle.
On Thursday, July 7th, things finally reached a breaking point. Lozé appealed to the Ministry. This single wise decision, after such a sequence of poor ones, turned the tide. Premier Dupuy made another wise decision which likely saved Paris from the burning that many American cities received at the hands of rioters in 2020. The Spectator reports that Dupuy “did the only thing which in such cases is at once merciful and sure to succeed: He called out the garrison of Paris in overwhelming force.” Dupuy deployed some 20,000 troops and 5,000 cavalry to quell the riots once and for all. The plan worked. By Friday, July 8th, Paris was quiet. The results of such drastic action prove the wisdom in it; unlike the BLM riots of 2020, no major buildings were set on fire, and only two houses were burgled. It is certain that if American mayors in 2020 had called out the National Guard in overwhelming force early on, as Dupuy did, a similar result would have transpired. Unfortunately, many mayors reacted in the exact opposite manner, and the difference in the final results can be clearly seen by comparison. It is certainly true that those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it.
Even though Lozé ultimately succeeded in stopping the riots, he was also ultimately blamed for them. The Chamber of Deputies needed someone to take the fall. They had to provide the angry citizens of Paris with someone to blame and some small proof that changes were truly happening. Three days after the riots ended, on July 11th, Lozé was ousted from office, and Louise Lépine was sworn in. Lépine was the perfect candidate for the job, and managed to transform a wounded Paris and a distrusted police force into something stronger, but Louis Lépine will be covered in my next blog post.
The remainder of Sarah Brown's life was tragically short. She died less than three years later, in February of 1896. This was all too common for models of that time, who struggled financially and were often quickly replaced with an ever-flowing stream of younger women. Left to fend for themselves, early death from sickness, depression, or malnutrition were sadly common. The passion which she inspired in 1893 did, however, gain her a level of notoriety that still remains today.
Lozé's life continued on successfully even after his removal from office as Prefect of Police. The success of his later career indicates that his removal was due to the fact that the government needed someone to blame, rather than from any indication of poor performance. Lozé was appointed as Ambassador to Vienna, away from the judging eyes of Paris, and he retained the position there until 1897. One of Lozé's great attributes was in knowing his own limitations. He had held several positions at small prefectures with absolute success, and after the troubles he experienced as the prefect in Paris, he likely preferred to remain in far less demanding positions. When he was offered the post of Governor General of Algeria, he declined, choosing instead to take a lower position within the Ministry of the Interior. He continued in politics until the end of his life. In 1906, he ran a successful election to become a member of the Senate, where he served until his death in 1915.
Although little is known about Lozé outside of his career, one distinction which he did hold was that he was a Commander in the Legion of Honor; an honorary distinction which Napoleon created to replace the levels of Knighthood that the old French Monarchy used. The Legion of Honor was one based on merit rather than lineage, and each level indicated a number of years worked in service to the public. Lozé's rank indicates that he had worked between 33 and 36 years as a public servant. In all that time, he had received no black mark upon his record save one: The Student Riots of 1893. And yet, it is this one mistake for which he is most often remembered—a mistake which cannot truly be placed at his feet without also placing it upon the entire government, the police force, and the public.
The Final Word
The history of the Student Riots of 1893 is an interesting one and involves three obscure figures which would otherwise be forgotten if not for the tragedy which affected them all. The prefect received a black mark upon his record which is remembered far more than his thirty-plus years of faithful public service. The model received instant fame and lasting notoriety, but her popularity quickly faded and did nothing to improve the quality of her life. The student received a quiet funeral in Clermont-Ferrand and left behind a heart-broken father and possibly a grieving mother and widow as well. The Student Riots produced no winners. The result of the revolt produced two things, however: The first being that the Bal des Quat'z'Arts became an annual tradition among the art students and lasted until 1966 with increasingly elaborate costuming and requirements. The second, and more positive result, was that Louis Lépine was appointed to the office of prefect. Lépine rapidly and peacefully calmed the tensions in Paris and was likely as essential to the modernization of the French police force as was Alphonse Bertillon. The result being that, by the turn of the century, the French police became the standard by which all other policing forces were compared.
You can read more about Louise Lépine, the little man with the big stick, on my next blog.
These blogs are designed to give you a brief look at the true history which plays a part in my novels, The Callahan Chronicles.
For more information on this subject or the Callahan Chronicles, check out these links:
The Callahan Chronicles - by Paul Campbell
Grayhound - buy on Amazon
More on Sarah Brown by Art and Popular Culture
Sarah Brown - Wikipedia
Henri-Auguste Lozé - Wikipedia
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