How the great cat massacre shows the strange power of humor in 18th‑century Paris

In the 1730s, a group of Parisian printing apprentices claimed they staged a bizarre protest: they hunted, “tried” and killed dozens of cats, then laughed about it for years afterward. The story, later recorded by one of them, has become known as the “great cat massacre.”

On the surface it sounds like simple cruelty. Look closer, and it reveals how powerless workers used dark humor to cope with strict bosses, social inequality and a city full of strange beliefs about animals. It is one of history’s oddest windows into everyday life.

What actually happened in the great cat massacre?

The main account comes from Nicolas Contat, a French printing worker who wrote humorous memoirs about his apprenticeship decades later. Historians treat his story as partly factual and partly shaped for comic effect, but it is still our best source.

Contat describes working in a cramped print shop in Paris. Apprentices slept in cold, uncomfortable spaces, ate cheap, rough food and worked long hours. Above them lived the master printer and his wife, who enjoyed better meals and a warm bed, shared with their beloved cat, La Grise.

Cats were everywhere in the neighborhood. They howled at night, fought on the rooftops and rummaged through rubbish. The apprentices were kept awake but noticed something that angered them: the master’s wife carefully fed La Grise and fussed over her, while the workers received little sympathy and poor food.

According to Contat, the apprentices decided to get revenge, not directly on their employers, but on what they saw as the pampered favorite. They started by mimicking cat cries outside the master’s window to convince him the neighborhood cats were possessed or bringing bad luck, then offered to “solve” the problem.

The mock trial and why it was funny then

Contat claims the apprentices organized a grotesque performance. They captured many cats, including La Grise, and staged a fake court: the animals were “charged” with witchcraft, stealing food and disturbing the peace, then “sentenced” to death in a parody of serious legal rituals.

For them, the whole event was hilarious. They re-enacted it for months, laughing until they cried whenever they told the story. The master and his wife, if Contat is to be believed, were horrified, which only made the joke sweeter for the apprentices.

To modern readers, there is nothing funny about animal cruelty. That reaction matters. It shows how much values have shifted, but it also risks hiding what the incident reveals about Contat’s world. To understand their laughter, it helps to look at three things: power, belief and the role of jokes.

Power, resentment and kicking “down” at a favorite

In 18th‑century Paris, apprentices had little formal power. The master controlled their work, sleep, food and future prospects. Open rebellion could mean homelessness, arrest or worse. Humor became a safer way to fight back.

The cat, especially La Grise, symbolized everything they resented. She shared the comfort of the master’s bed and received better care than the hungry young workers below. Attacking the cat was a way to attack the household’s sense of fairness without striking the master himself.

This kind of sideways protest shows up in many times and places: mocking processions, playful insults, ridiculous nicknames for bosses. The cat massacre sits in that tradition. It was cruel, but it was also a coded message: “You care more about this animal than about us.”

Cats, witchcraft and uneasy beliefs

Cats carried heavy symbolic baggage in early modern Europe. They were often linked to witchcraft, nighttime spirits and bad luck. Superstitions about crossing paths with a cat or hearing strange feline cries at night were still common, especially in crowded cities.

By pretending that the neighborhood cats were bewitched, the apprentices used popular beliefs as comedy material. The mock trial burlesqued real witch trials and legal proceedings that many in their audience would have known about, even if they had never seen one directly.

The joke worked on a second level too. Courts and church authorities sometimes took animal behavior as signs of the devil or moral decay. By staging their own ridiculous “investigation” into the cats, the workers poked fun at institutions that often felt distant and arbitrary.

Why historians care about this gruesome story

For a long time, historians mostly studied rulers, wars and big ideas. Stories like the cat massacre stayed on the margins because they seemed trivial or too odd. That changed as more scholars became interested in everyday life: workers, jokes, food, fears and neighborhood quarrels.

The cat massacre has attracted attention partly because it is so uncomfortable. It forces questions: What did people find funny? How did they express anger when they were powerless? What did they fear at night in a noisy city?

We also see how different types of evidence work. There is no police record of the massacre, and we only have Contat’s later written version. That means historians read his story carefully, comparing it with other sources on Parisian printing shops, street animals and popular humor to decide what seems plausible and what may be exaggerated.

Reading strange history without romanticizing it

Stories like the great cat massacre can be gripping, but it is worth approaching them with a few habits that keep both curiosity and care alive.

• Notice the distance in values:Finding the apprentices’ behavior disturbing is normal. Instead of dismissing them as monsters, ask what their reactions reveal about their world and ours.
• Separate fact from embellishment:Recognize when a story comes from a single, humorous source and when it is supported by multiple records. Treat colorful details as possibly stylized, not automatically literal.
• Look for what is missing:We do not know the cats’ actual number, what the master truly felt or how neighbors reacted. Silence in the sources is a clue in itself about whose voices were recorded.
• Connect the strange to the ordinary:Behind the bizarre act lie familiar issues: resentment at unfair treatment, frustration with noisy nights, fear of unseen forces and the relief of laughing with friends.

What this odd event still tells us today

The great cat massacre is hard to read without flinching. Yet it offers a sharp reminder that humor can be a weapon, not always a gentle one. It can punch upward at authority, but also sideways at easier targets, from animals to outsiders.

By paying attention to who is laughing, who is not and who pays the price for the joke, we gain a clearer sense of how past societies managed tension and inequality. That awareness remains useful whenever we look at our own culture’s memes, pranks and viral “challenges”.

History’s strangest stories are not just curiosities. They are mirrors, slightly warped, that help us see both the past and ourselves with a little more honesty.