Following Napoleon’s exile to the island of Saint Helena, handbills began appearing in the UK with an irresistible proposition. The island, they claimed, had become overrun with rats. Salvation, naturally, lay in cats, and generous payment awaited anyone prepared to deliver a healthy mouser to the authorities.
It was exactly the sort of story that seemed just plausible enough to silence doubt. After all, ships carried rats. Islands suffered infestations.
Napoleon was still a figure of endless fascination. Why shouldn’t there be a market for cats?
And so they came. People arrived at British ports with cats of every description, expecting honest payment for their patriotic contribution. Instead, they found no grateful officials, no official scheme and, presumably, a growing suspicion that they had been made the victims of a remarkably elaborate joke.
Whether every detail unfolded exactly as later retellings suggest is difficult to establish. What is beyond dispute is that the tale spread rapidly and became one of Britain’s best-loved newspaper hoaxes. Modern historians regard it as an elaborate (and not very funny) practical joke rather than a forgotten government initiative.
The episode offers a gentle reminder that misinformation did not begin with the internet. Long before viral posts and online scams, a cleverly worded notice, a convincing premise and a willingness to believe could send perfectly sensible people across town carrying a cat, all in the expectation that history required their assistance.
The cats are the real victims here, of course. Still, I imagine UK ports were vermin-free for a while afterwards…