The 1726 Mary Toft rabbit-birthing hoax

In 1726, Mary Toft pulled the ultimate 18th-century prank by convincing the world she was giving birth to rabbits. Even King George I’s top surgeon fell for it, proving that "expert" egos are the easiest things to manipulate.

The secret? Mary was manually hiding animal parts inside herself before "birthing" them during exams. The doctors were so thirsty for a medical miracle they ignored the sheer impossibility of it all.

The tea spilled when a doctor found undigested corn inside a "newborn" bunny. Turns out, human wombs don't provide catering.

Wait, which 'expert' was actually messy enough to vouch for her?

Nathaniel St. André was the "main character" of this disaster. As the Swiss-born surgeon to the Royal Household, he didn't just fall for the stunt—he doubled down. He published a thirsty pamphlet titled "A Short Narrative of an Extraordinary Delivery of Rabbets", basically staking his entire career on Mary’s "talent."

He was so desperate for a medical breakthrough that he ignored every red flag. When the receipts were leaked, the medical community canceled him instantly. He lost his royal paycheck and became the 18th century’s biggest laughingstock, proving that clout-chasing is a dangerous game.

So what were the actual 'receipts' that finally exposed the whole scam?

The "receipts" that truly ended him involved a porter caught smuggling a literal rabbit into Mary’s room. It was the 18th-century equivalent of being caught with the prop department in your dressing room.

The drama peaked when Sir Richard Manningham threatened a "very painful" exploratory surgery. Mary realized the bit had gone too far and folded, confessing she’d been buying rabbits from a local poulterer to keep the scam alive.

St. André was left holding his useless pamphlet while the London press absolutely roasted him for being the ultimate clown. He went from royal surgeon to a punchline overnight.

Exactly how "painful" was this surgery Manningham was threatening her with?

Manningham wasn't playing around. He threatened a "manual examination" without anesthesia—basically a surgical fishing expedition. In 1726, that meant a cold scalpel and a room full of gawking doctors.

He suspected she was hiding evidence in an internal cavity. The thought of being sliced open for a prank was the ultimate vibe-check. Mary realized the "rabbit mother" brand wasn't worth the trauma.

She cracked instantly. While she was committed to the bit, she wasn't "surgery without painkillers" committed. She confessed the entire hoax before he could even reach for his medical bag.

Did she actually face any jail time for gaslighting the entire British Empire?

Mary was hauled off to Bridewell Prison faster than a rabbit in a hat. She was charged as an "abominable cheat," the 18th-century way of calling her a total fraud. The public even flocked to her cell just to catch a glimpse of the fallen star.

But here’s the plot twist: the legal system was confused. Since there was no specific law against "faking rabbit births," the charges were eventually dropped. She walked free, but her reputation was permanently trashed—she went from a medical marvel to a literal cautionary tale.