The Victorian Post Office Employed Three Cats- And They Even Got a Pay Rise!

The Victorian Post Office Employed Three Cats- And They Even Got a Pay Rise!

Did you know that the Victorian Post Office once employed three cats, gave them an allowance and even put them on probation to see whether they were any good at their jobs?

I came across this rather lovely piece of Victorian history, and it made me smile. It turns out that even cats weren't entirely free from the rules and regulations of Victorian working life!

In September 1868, the Money Order Office in London was having trouble with rats and mice. These unwanted visitors were a particular nuisance in a busy office handling important paperwork, and something needed to be done about them.

The solution was wonderfully simple. The Post Office decided to employ three cats.

Although cats had probably been catching mice in postal buildings for years, these three were officially appointed and given an allowance of one shilling a week between them to help towards their upkeep.

That works out at just four old pence per cat!

However, the Post Office Secretary wasn't prepared to let them enjoy an easy life. The cats were placed on probation, and he was particularly concerned that they should not be overfed. They were expected to catch mice, which would also provide some of their food.

There was even a warning that if the mouse problem hadn't improved within six months, their allowance would be reduced.

Can you imagine three cats having their work performance assessed by Victorian government officials? I suspect anyone who has ever owned a cat will appreciate just how amusing that sounds!

Thankfully, the little workers seem to have proved their worth. On the 7th of May 1869, an official report recorded that "the cats have done their duty very efficiently".

Their efforts were evidently appreciated because, in 1873, their weekly allowance was increased by sixpence.

The arrangement proved successful enough for the official use of cats to spread to other post offices, where they continued helping to control rats and mice.

And this wasn't a short-lived Victorian experiment. Post Office cats remained part of British postal life well into the twentieth century, with some becoming quite famous in their own right.

I love discovering these little glimpses of everyday history. We often hear about Victorian inventions, factories and great achievements, but it's stories like this that remind me of the more unusual side of life.

Now I'd love to know, if you have a cat, would it have earned its Victorian pay rise, or would it have spent the entire working day asleep on the paperwork? 

Image info:

The Cat - Felis domesticus, 1872. Library of Congress. Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

German Intelligence Trusted His 27 Spies - But Not One of Them Existed

German Intelligence Trusted His 27 Spies - But Not One of Them Existed

In 1941, a Spanish man named Juan Pujol García approached British officials with an rather unusual offer. He wanted to become a spy and help Britain to defeat Germany. The British were not interested. He was persistent and tried three times, but each time he was turned down.

Pujol wasn't prepared to give up, so he decided to approach German intelligence instead. He convinced them that he supported them and was willing to gather information from Britain. They actually decided to recruit him, but they never suspected that he had absolutely no intention of helping them.

Rather than going to Britain as he had been instructed, Pujol went to Lisbon in Portugal. He began inventing intelligence reports using guidebooks, newspapers and other reference materials. He wrote as though he were living in Britain, describing military activities he had never witnessed. The Germans believed his reports, he began to create imaginary informants to gather information on his behalf.

In April 1942, Pujol finally made contact with MI6 and was brought to London, where MI5 took over his work. Alongside his handler, Tomás Harris, he developed an extraordinary network of 27 fictional agents, each with their own background and identity. There was a Venezuelan living in Glasgow, an American army sergeant and even a Welsh nationalist in Swansea.

By 1944, Pujol, who was now known as Agent Garbo, was playing an important role in Operation Fortitude, which was the wider Allied deception campaign that was designed to convince German commanders that the main invasion of France would actually take place near Calais rather than Normandy.

One interesting incident happened on the 6th of June 1944, the day of the Normandy landings.

Garbo had arranged to send an urgent warning at 3am, supposedly based on information from one of his agents. However, when he attempted to make contact, the German radio operator was not listening. His warning went unanswered, and by the time German intelligence realised what had happened, the invasion was already under way.

Rather than becoming suspicious, the Germans considered Garbo even more reliable because he had apparently tried to warn them.

On the 9th of June, he sent another important message, claiming that the Normandy landings were merely a diversion and that the main Allied attack was still to come near Calais. German commanders continued to keep substantial forces in that area, helping give Allied troops valuable time to establish themselves in Normandy.

Garbo's deception was so convincing that, on the 29th of July 1944, he was informed that Germany had awarded him the Iron Cross for his services. In December of the same year, Britain awarded him an MBE.

Had you heard of Agent Garbo before? I'd love to know.

But how did Garbo and his British handler manage to keep 27 imaginary spies believable without German intelligence discovering the truth? In my extended subscriber post, we’re taking a closer look at the fictional agents, the carefully planned deception and the extraordinary lengths they went to in order to maintain the Germans’ trust. There’s much more to this fascinating story, and I’d love you to join me as we discover it together.

Image info:

Juan Pujol García (Agent Garbo), photographed in disguise, 1944. British Security Service / The National Archives. Public domain (expired Crown copyright), via Wikimedia Commons.

England Had Defeated the Spanish Armada - But Its Own Fleet Was About to Suffer a Disastrous Failure

England Had Defeated the Spanish Armada - But Its Own Fleet Was About to Suffer a Disastrous Failure

In my last Tudor post, we followed the remains of the Spanish Armada as its ships struggled to return home in 1588. Storms, shipwrecks and exhaustion had taken a terrible toll, while England was celebrating its escape from invasion.

But the war between England and Spain was far from over. The following year, Elizabeth I supported an expedition intended to take advantage of Spain’s weakened position and strike another blow against Philip II.

In 1589, a large English fleet sailed under the command of Sir Francis Drake, with Sir John Norris leading the soldiers. The expedition, that is usually known today as the English Armada or Counter-Armada, was financed by Elizabeth and private investors.

Its objectives were ambitious. The English intended to attack surviving Spanish warships, particularly those sheltering at Santander, support António, Prior of Crato, in his attempt to claim the Portuguese throne, and potentially capture valuable Spanish treasure ships returning from overseas.

The expedition did not go according to plan.

Rather than proceeding directly to Santander, the fleet attacked the Spanish port of A Coruña in May 1589, partly attracted by reports of ships and valuable cargo there.

The English captured and plundered part of the town, but its defenders resisted fiercely when they attempted to take the fortified old town. Among those remembered for their courage was María Pita, a local woman who became a celebrated figure in the city’s defence.

After days of fighting, the English withdrew without capturing the whole town.

The fleet then continued towards Portugal, where its commanders hoped the population would rise against Spanish rule and support António as their king.

But the widespread uprising they had hoped for never came. Some Portuguese supporters assisted António, but nowhere near enough to secure the English expedition’s success.

English troops approached Lisbon, but shortages of supplies, poor coordination between the army and fleet, and resistance from forces loyal to Philip II made their position increasingly difficult. Eventually, they abandoned the attempt and withdrew.

By the time the expedition returned to England, disease, hunger and fighting had claimed thousands of lives. The principal objectives had not been achieved, and the financial losses were considerable.

For Elizabeth, it was disappointing so soon after the celebrations of 1588.

I had heard so much about the Spanish Armada long before I learnt about the English expedition that followed. It is interesting how two such enormous campaigns, taking place only a year apart, have been remembered so differently.

England had successfully resisted invasion in 1588, but its own attempt to weaken Spain the following year had ended badly. Both kingdoms had suffered considerable losses, and the war between them would continue until 1604, after Elizabeth’s death.

Had you heard about the English Armada of 1589, or is this a chapter of Tudor history that’s new to you?

☕ Have a cuppa and let’s discover history together.

Image info:

María Pita defending A Coruña, 1589. Painting by Arturo Fernández Cersa, 1889. Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

They Thought They Were Spying for Germany - But Their Secret Contact Was Working for MI5

They Thought They Were Spying for Germany - But Their Secret Contact Was Working for MI5

Not everyone who tried to help Germany during the Second World War had arrived from abroad. Some were already living in Britain, going about their lives while looking for ways to help the enemy.

In early 1942, MI5 gave Eric Roberts, who had already been involved in undercover intelligence work, a new assignment. He was to pose as a representative of the German secret police and identify people who were willing to help Germany.

Roberts had previously worked as a clerk for Westminster Bank and he lived in Epsom, Surrey. Using the name Jack King, he pretended to be organising a network of people who could secretly help Germany.

One of the people he contacted was Marita Perigoe, a woman with strong pro-German sympathies. She was eager to help the German war effort and believed Roberts was genuine. She introduced him to other people.who shared her views.

Roberts began meeting his contacts at a flat in London's Edgware Road, where MI5 had secretly installed microphones to record their conversations.

One of those contacts was Hans Kohout, an Austrian-born naturalised British citizen who worked for John Dickinson, a company involved in secret Admiralty and Air Ministry contracts.

Kohout supplied information about 'Window', a wartime development that used strips of metallic foil to confuse German radar. He had also managed to obtain details about the Mosquito aircraft. At the same time, he was serving in Civil Defence, helping with Britain's wartime protection efforts.

Other contacts supplied information about fuel storage sites, aircraft technology and an amphibious tank undergoing secret trials.

The people handing over these details believed they were helping German intelligence. Instead, their information was reaching MI5, which could investigate those involved and prevent the material from reaching Germany.

Roberts had been instructed not to encourage people to commit acts against Britain. His job was to identify individuals already willing to assist the enemy.

Although the operation continued for several years, MI5 concluded, after consulting the police, that prosecutions were not feasible. Defence lawyers could argue that the undercover methods had encouraged the very activities being investigated.

I find it particularly disturbing that people like Hans Kohout could be carrying on with their ordinary lives, even serving in Civil Defence, while secretly trying to pass British military information to Germany. It makes me wonder how many people living alongside them had any idea what they were doing.

Had you heard about this MI5 operation and the people involved?

Source: MI5 - Eric Roberts' Undercover Work in World War II.

Image info:

British Ministry of Information wartime poster, The National Archives, INF 3/270. Public domain.

THEY HAD ACCEPTED WILLIAM AS KING. BUT TWO POWERFUL ENGLISH EARLS WERE ABOUT TO TURN AGAINST HIM

THEY HAD ACCEPTED WILLIAM AS KING. BUT TWO POWERFUL ENGLISH EARLS WERE ABOUT TO TURN AGAINST HIM

By the summer of 1068, William the Conqueror had been King of England for more than a year. But he was having difficulty establishing his authority. He had recently had to deal with resistance at Exeter, and trouble was starting in the Midlands and the north.

It was two brothers that were causing it. Edwin, Earl of Mercia, and Morcar, Earl of Northumbria. Both had been important before the Norman Conquest. They had led English forces against the Norwegian invasion at the Battle of Fulford, near York, in September 1066.

Following Harold Godwinson’s defeat at Hastings, the brothers had accepted William. They had even accompanied him to Normandy in 1067, along with several other leading English nobles. But accepting William did not mean they were happy.

The arrival of Norman lords and the redistribution of English lands were already starting to change the balance of power. 

There may also have been a more personal grievance. The medieval chronicler Orderic Vitalis wrote that Edwin had been promised marriage to one of William’s daughters, but the marriage had not happened. We can’t be sure how much this actually influenced Edwin’s decision to rebel, but it may well have added to his growing dissatisfaction.

In 1068, Edwin and Morcar challenged William’s rule. They were not the only English nobles who were unhappy with the situation. Edgar Ætheling, who had been considered for the throne following Harold’s death, remained a possible rival to William.

William gathered his forces and marched north, establishing a castle at Warwick as he advanced. Faced with the king’s army, Edwin and Morcar eventually submitted again, and the immediate rebellion ended without a major battle between them.

William continued through Nottingham and on to York, establishing castles and leaving soldiers behind to hold these important locations.

When we think of Norman castles, we usually imagine enormous stone buildings. But many of William’s earliest castles were much simpler structures, built using earth and timber. They had defensive ditches, banks and wooden palisades, and could be built relatively quickly.

These castles allowed Norman soldiers to maintain a presence in towns and surrounding areas, even after William had moved on with his army.

York was especially important because it had long been a major centre of power in northern England. Establishing a garrison there was an important part of William’s attempt to bring the region under his control.

Their rebellion had ended, but the troubles in northern England were far from finished. In 1069, William would have to face another challenge. This time his response would have terrible consequences for the people living there.

Do you think Edwin and Morcar were right to submit again, or do you think they should have continued to resist William while they still had the chance?

☕ Have a cuppa and let’s discover history together.

Image info:

 Warwick Castle, engraving by William Miller after Clarkson Stanfield, 1844. A later view of the castle established by William the Conqueror in 1068. Public Domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

A French Woman Handed a British Prisoner a Napkin - and His Mother Finally Learnt He Was Alive

A French Woman Handed a British Prisoner a Napkin - and His Mother Finally Learnt He Was Alive

In June 1940, thousands of British soldiers were returning home following the evacuation from Dunkirk. But others were still fighting in France. Among them were the men of the 51st (Highland) Division, who had remained alongside French forces as the German army continued its advance. Their situation was becoming increasingly desperate, and by the 12th of June 1940, the division had been surrounded at St Valéry-en-Caux in Normandy.

Attempts to evacuate most of the division by sea had failed. Supplies and ammunition were running dangerously low, so Major-General Victor Fortune ordered their surrender. Thousands of British servicemen became prisoners of war that morning, including Gunner Henry Owens, whose experiences would later give us an amazing account of their experience.

Henry described the exhausting marches, as prisoners were forced through France and Belgium in the summer heat. Food and water were often desperately short, and he recalled that the guards beat some of the men to keep them moving. Despite the dangers, French civilians tried to offer the prisoners something to eat or drink. Henry also remembered one French woman who had found another way to help.

During the march, she pushed a napkin into his hand. Inside was a message containing news from the BBC, together with instructions asking him to write down the name and address of his next of kin. He was then to pass the information to another woman waiting farther along the road, who would also have a napkin so that he could recognise her.

Henry followed the instructions, although he had little confidence that anything would come of it. With thousands of prisoners being moved across occupied Europe, the chances of a message reaching Britain must have seemed very small. But through the efforts of the Comité de Béthune Red Cross Women’s Section, the information did reach his mother.

According to Henry’s account, this was the first news she had received confirming that her son was alive. She had been waiting to discover what had happened to him, and now, thanks to the efforts of strangers in France, she finally knew he had survived his capture. She subsequently informed Army Records herself that Henry was alive and being held prisoner.

Unfortunately, Henry’s ordeal was far from over. After further journeys by rail and barge, he eventually reached Toruń, in what was then German-annexed Poland, where he received prisoner number 14704. He still faced years of captivity, separated from his family and uncertain about when he might return home.

Does anyone in your family have letters, postcards or memories of a relative who was held as a prisoner of war?

Image info:

51st Highland Division, France, June 1940. Photograph: Capt. Geoffrey Keating / War Office / IWM F 4743. Public domain.

The Victorians Could Listen to Live Theatre at Home - Decades Before Radio Broadcasting

The Victorians Could Listen to Live Theatre at Home - Decades Before Radio Broadcasting

When I think about listening to a concert or a theatrical performance at home, I automatically think about the radio, TV or streaming. But I was actually quite surprised to find out that some Victorians were already able to enjoy something similar.

In 1895, the London Electrophone Company began to offer a service that allowed people to listen to live entertainment without actually going to the performance.

Microphones were installed in theatres, music halls and other venues around London. The sound was carried along telephone lines to subscribers, who listened through special earpieces. Customers could contact an operator and ask to be connected to a particular performance, including opera at Covent Garden.

There were no recordings involved. Whatever the audience heard was happening live, somewhere else in the city.

Some subscribers even had special listening tables fitted with several sets of earpieces, that allowed families or friends to enjoy a performance together. 

The service wasn't just in private homes either. Electrophones could also be found in clubs and public listening rooms, and there were also church services transmitted for those who wanted to listen.

Subscriptions were, as you would expect, expensive, particularly in the earlier years, and even when the annual price was later reduced to around £5, it remained far beyond the reach of many families.

By 1908, several hundred people were subscribing to the Electrophone. The service continued well into the 20th century, but when the radio became more common its popularity waned. The London service eventually closed in 1925.

Would you have enjoyed listening to a live performance from home, or would you rather have experienced the atmosphere of the theatre itself?

And there's another fascinating side to this invention, including a rather unusual connection to Queen Victoria and her birthday celebrations. I've explored that story in today's extended subscriber feature.

Image info:

The Electrophone listening salon in Garrard Street, London, c. 1901. From Living London, edited by George R. Sims, Vol. 3, p. 115. Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.