However experts using modern technologies have now “recreated” King Richard III’s voice, complete with Yorkshire accent and medieval pronunciation, which features in the History Hit documentary, A Voice for Richard III, available 21 November.

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After first being exhibited at York Theatre Royal, the digital avatar developed by Face Lab at Liverpool John Moores University and the new voice feature in an original documentary presented by historian Matt Lewis, who explores its creation and significance.

“The voice for Richard project has set out to give Richard back his own voice,” says Matt Lewis, co-host of the Gone Medieval podcast. “This is a project that brings together history with technology, art, science, language and one of my favourite historical personalities, King Richard III.”

Matt Lewis speaks with Yvonne Morley-Chisolm

Image Credit: History Hit / A Voice for King Richard III

“This is as close as we can get to being in the room in the fifteenth century when a king speaks. I can’t wait for the world to see the culmination of ten years of hard work and innovation.”

Expert voice teacher and vocal coach Yvonne Morley-Chisolm embarked on the research project with the aim of creating a literal voice for the long-dead historical figure. 10 years of work contributed to the final reconstruction, which involved research in the field of Historical Human Reconstruction and experts from the UK and abroad.

“We are bringing a long dead king back to a kind of ‘life’, says Morley-Chisolm. “We are learning more about the real man in doing so.”

“Since we produced the facial reconstruction of Richard III in 2012, we have dreamt about bringing him alive, to see him move and speak his own words,” says Professor Carolin Wilkinson, a leading cranio-facial identification expert.

“The result has exceeded our expectations and represents the most authentic and realistic portrait of this great king, based on all evidence available.”

Find out more about the remarkable project to give King Richard III a voice by signing up to History Hit.

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In the latest History Hit documentary, Dan Snow journeys to the so-called ‘Weeping Glen’ to examine an astonishing new archaeological discovery: a hoard of coins likely hidden during one of the most shocking events in British history.

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In the first-ever film to delve into the discovery, The Scottish Massacre: Unearthing the Secrets of Glencoe, Dan meets archaeologists from the University of Glasgow and National Trust for Scotland, who are currently excavating the village of Glencoe. He explores what life was like here for the MacDonalds and why the Massacre of Glencoe took place.

Dan Snow and Lucy Ankers in The Scottish Massacre: Unearthing the Secrets of Glencoe

Image Credit: History Hit

Was it a revenge attack instigated by clan rivalry? Or, with a new monarch on the throne of England and Scotland in the person of King William III, were there greater forces at play?

The hoard was found hidden beneath the hearthstone in the summer house belonging to the clan chieftain of the MacDonalds of Glencoe, Alasdair Maclain. The 36 coins were located inside a small pot identified by student archaeologist Lucy Ankers, and may have been hidden by the MacDonald clan in the days leading up to the massacre—or even as they fled from government troops.

New light on a key moment in Scottish history

Each coin holds clues to the personal history and connections of MacIain, with several originating from regions he travelled to, such as France. One coin, depicting Stuart King Charles II and pierced with a hole, may even signify Jacobite allegiance, as it was likely worn as a necklace during a time of intense political division in the Scottish Highlands.

“It’s so exciting when a new archaeological discovery ties in with famous historic events,” says Dan Snow. “Contemporary accounts tell us some details about the Glencoe Massacre, but many questions remain. So, to hold something tangible from those terrible events, a pot of treasured coins tucked away for safekeeping and then forgotten for centuries, is extraordinary and brings you so much closer to this notorious and important story.”

“This remarkable find sheds new light on a key moment in Scottish history.”

The documentary showcases the ongoing research that the discovery has inspired. History Hit filmed on-site with the archaeology team and historic coin expert Jesper Ericsson, revealing how analysis of the hoard provides new insights into the massacre and life in 17th-century Glencoe.

“This discovery offers an amazing insight into the lives of Scottish Highland clan chiefs in the 17th century and their connections and negotiation of status,” explains Dr. Eddie Stewart, who co-led the dig.

The Glencoe Hoard

Image Credit: Featured in The Scottish Massacre: Unearthing the Secrets of Glencoe by History Hit

“For the first time, this documentary explores what these coins mean to the story not only of Glencoe and the 1692 massacre but also the personal travels and mobility of the Highland nobility,” says Stewart. “Our team of experts has brought to life a moment in time with the burial of this hoard and over a century of collecting practice!”

Glencoe lives revealed

The pot of coins hidden under the fireplaces suggests a story of panic, death and loss, adds Professor Michael Given. “What’s extraordinary about Glencoe is how a single dramatic moment in history can be captured in these everyday objects,” he says.

“The archaeological evidence is also revealing a deep connection between the people of Glencoe and their land. When you understand this relationship you can better comprehend the true magnitude of the trauma they endured when their world was so violently upended in 1692 and their homes abandoned.”

Beyond the hoard, the film explores new findings from excavations in the settlement of Achnacon, including a beautifully recreated turf-walled house designed by the National Trust for Scotland to resemble 17th-century Highland homes. They vividly reveal the lives of Glencoe’s residents at the time of the massacre.

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In Agincourt: The Real Story, historical conflict analyst Dr Mike Livingston journeys through northern France in the footsteps of Henry V and his army, from Harfleur to Agincourt.

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Livingston argues that the traditionally recognised site of the battle incorrectly locates the English position in the French position. Additionally, he wonders if Henry’s strategy alone won him the battle – or whether forces beyond his control proved pivotal.

In the battle, Henry arranged his archers into low long wings either side of his centre, where his dismounted men-at-arms stood between further groups of archers.

“As the French approached, they would be shot at from both sides while the surrounding woods and stakes would prevent his archers from being overrun,” Livingston explains.

Livingston reconstructs the battle with Dr Marina Viallon, medieval arms and armour expert. Ultimately, it saw Henry win a total victory against the French, losing just hundreds of men compared with the thousands of French losses.

Although the French men-at-arms facing them would have been eager and fully protected, wearing a combination of mail and plate armour, and the distinctive pointed helmet known as the pig’s nose bascinet, they had a problem.

“The Dauphin had not yet arrived on the battlefield,” explains Viallon. “Instead the French were being led by various dukes of the realm, and they didn’t always get along. So a lot of other factions were actually fighting for power around the king and so you have four or five different leaders in this army.”

This was their biggest problem, says Viallon. “The English had a clear and strong leader. And the French basically had too many cooks in the kitchen, but no chef.”

Dr Mike Livingston meets with master arrowsmith and fletcher Will Sherman in Agincourt: The Real Story

Image Credit: History Hit

The result was confused command, and commitment to a foiled plan even as conditions on the battlefield turned muddy and difficult.

In this light, victory at Agincourt was not a foregone conclusion for the English, but almost a fluke. “Henry did not even want a fight,” says Livingston. “He tried his best to avoid it but the French caught up to him.”

In Agincourt: The Real Story, Livingston explores the vital role of Henry’s archers, and works with master arrowsmith and fletcher Will Sherman to explore the finely honed technology that helped win the day.

He also investigates whether Henry was seeking battle or running away, exploring whether illness among his troops motivated a return home.

Livingston considers how Agincourt permeated as a tale of bravery and triumph against all the odds, inspiring Shakespeare and thereafter everyone from Churchill to Kenneth Branagh.

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The latest mini series coming to Dan Snow’s History Hit will investigate the ingenuity and cruelty of ancient Roman entertainment. Dan and his guests will explore the brutal weapons and bloodsports of the arena, and the fierce power plays that unfolded from the Roman emperor’s box.

The mini series will also explore the true story of the most famous gladiator of all: Spartacus. In 73 BC, the gladiator Spartacus led a rebellion with an army of escaped slaves, resisting legions for several years. When they succumbed, they were said to have been crucified in their masses.

Roman mosaic from 3rd century AD, National Archaeological Museum in Madrid, Spain

Image Credit: PRISMA ARCHIVO / Alamy Stock Photo

With the release of Ridley Scott’s next historical epic, turn to Dan Snow’s History Hit to bust some myths on what a day at the arena would really be like.

Scott’s hugely anticipated movie Gladiator II picks up two decades on from the (fictional) events of the 2000 original, with Paul Mescal and Pedro Pascal featuring in its bloody tale of vengeance.

Join Dan on an adventure to ancient Rome on 10 November for the mini series ‘Gladiators’.

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European artists played an important role in shaping the image of the witch, transforming it into a powerful cultural symbol. In the History Hit film The King’s Curse: Scotland’s Notorious Witch Trials, art historian Dr Catriona Murray explains how these depictions evolved.

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The broomstick, for example, is evident in a medieval manuscript which identifies two women who are religious heretics. The broomstick is a classic icon now associated with witches, but why is it included here? “I suspect they are acting as phalluses,” explains Murray. “They are empowering these women and they are riding them. On another level they provide flight, and that’s one of the key characteristics of witches, that they fly to their Sabbath.”

Albrecht Dürer’s later, memorable depiction of witches resembles how we often think of witches today. “This is the hag, the crone. And one of the other things that’s very interesting about it is that she’s naked,” says Murray. “There’s a real focus on the gross nakedness of this old woman.” Witchcraft was often linked with ugliness, and Dürer’s witch has aged features and withered limbs.

The Witch, Albrecht Dürer, circa 1500

Additionally, Dürer depicts her riding a goat, an animal particularly linked with the devil. She does so backwards to signify that the natural order is upset. “There’s a feeling of real [discomfort] here, that things do not happen as you expect them to happen.”

“This is the subversion of what the feminine should be doing, that there’s this patriarchal anxiety going on here,” says Murray.

The growing fear of witches in the 16th century included increased anxiety about them joining together in a coven. Increasingly witches were depicted in a group, as in a painting of the witch’s sabbath by Frans Francken. Francken picked up his brush at a time when the Spanish Netherlands experienced a growing panic about witches. He portrays witches of different social orders engaged in lewd dancing, spells and incantations, and also reading grimoires, which links female literacy and knowledge with witchcraft.

Heinrich Kramer’s Malleus Maleficarum, ‘Hammer of Witches’, had already provided instruction on how to catch witches. Kramer argued that women were particularly prone to witchcraft. He wrote accounts of their alleged powers and habits, including the harvesting of male organs and depositing them in birds’ nests, “where they move themselves like living members and eat oats and corn”.

In The King’s Curse: Scotland’s Notorious Witch Trials, Maddy Pelling and Anthony Delaney investigate one of Europe’s bloodiest witch hunts: Scotland’s North Berwick Witch trials of 1591.

In this extraordinary case, fears escalated all the way up the social hierarchy to the king himself, James VI. A wild storm in the North Sea had nearly killed James and his new wife Anne of Denmark, fuelling his fascination with the intellectual study of demonology. A maelstrom of terror brought together the king’s paranoia of a conspiracy against him with local rivalries and misfortune. It twisted together the fates of individuals from maidservants to magistrates in the hunt for scapegoats.

Anthony and Maddy host After Dark: Myths, Misdeeds & the Paranormal, a History Hit podcast.

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In the 12th century Chillingham was home to a monastery. By the 13th century, due to incursions from Scottish forces, the castle was built and Edward I, ‘Hammer of the Scots’, led his Scottish campaigns from this location. Over the years it’s been host to several noble families, but nowadays it’s best known as the home to dozens of ghosts.

Historian Eleanor Janega braves Chillingham Castle and its gathering of ghosts in the film Exploring the Medieval Afterlife on History Hit.

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Unlike other medieval ghost stories, the first recorded accounts of Chillingham’s ghost tales are much more recent. They were penned by Lady Leonora Tankerville, who moved there from the United States after marrying the Earl of Tankerville in 1895.

This was “something of a golden age for ghost stories,” says Janega. “The Victorian and Edwardian eras were a time of great modernization and secularism with major shifts away from religious explanations of the natural world.”

“But the flip side of all this worldly rationalism was that it actually increased interest in the occult and spiritualism,” explains Janega. “Ghost stories were a hugely popular part of fiction as people became increasingly interested in the paranormal, seances, and finding different ways of interacting with the dead. Places like Chillingham found themselves in the middle of the spiritualist revival.”

Lady Tankerville’s reports of Chillingham’s ghosts were even commended by author and fellow supernatural enthusiast Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

Given the battles on the Scottish borders, perhaps it’s no wonder that there are so many reports of ghosts.

The ghosts she wrote about would seem to continue to trouble today’s residents. “In the 18th century there was a figure who spent his time wailing and moaning and shimmering in blue,” explains its current owner, English baronet Sir Humphry Wakefield, who says excavations between the castle walls revealed the bones of a child, and this “solved that problem”.

“But when I restored that room,” he continues, “my guests kept saying, ‘You must have an electric fault which is a flash of blue on the edge of the door.’ Well, there’s no electric there at all. We must have left a toe bone.”

The great hall of Chillingham Castle, a medieval castle in the village of Chillingham in the northern part of Northumberland, England. It dates from 1344.

Image Credit: Shutterstock

Sir Humphry avows that a priest, an expert in banishing ghosts, arrived at Chillingham only to report that they were so numerous he could not deal with them.

Chillingham’s resident ghost hunter Richard Craig reports 50 ghosts on the premises. One, Lady Mary Berkeley, is supposed to haunt the Great Hall, manifesting with a smell of roses and a wafting chill.

“Whether you believe in ghosts or not,” explains Janega, “ it’s clear that a natural fear of the supernatural has haunted us through the ages.” And lurking beneath these tales often lies a window into society’s changing norms and values. To figure out what makes a society tick, it often helps to look at what makes them frightened.

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Yet when this particular winter squash is hollowed out, a pair of eyes and a twisted grin are cut into its thick shell, and a lit candle is placed behind them, it transforms into a glowering Jack O’Lantern.

How did a New World vegetable, albeit one that is by definition a fruit (it is the product of seed-bearing, flowering plants), combine with a custom of carving originating in the British Isles to become an essential part of contemporary Halloween traditions?

Where did the tradition of pumpkin carving come from?

The history of pumpkin carving at Halloween is generally associated with a ghostly figure known as “Stingy Jack” or “Jack O’Lantern”. He is a lost soul resigned to wandering the earth and preying on unsuspecting travellers. In Ireland and Scotland, people placed vegetable carvings, typically using turnips, which depicted faces on their doorstep in order to frighten this spirit away.

According to this interpretation of the pumpkin carving tradition, immigrants to North America continued the custom of placing jack-o’-lanterns outside. However, instead of using small, tricky-to-carve vegetables, they used more visually appealing, much bigger and more readily available pumpkins.

Who was Stingy Jack?

In the Irish version of a tale that is common to multiple oral traditions, Stingy Jack, or Drunk Jack, tricked the devil so that he could purchase a final drink. As a result of his deception, God forbade Jack from entering heaven, while the Devil barred him from hell. Jack was left instead to roam the earth. Pumpkin carving appears to originate in part from this Irish myth.

The story is linked to the natural phenomena of strange lights that appear to flicker over peat bogs, swamps and marshes. What can be explained by modern science as a product of organic decay was once attributed by various folk beliefs to ghosts, fairies and supernatural spirits. These illuminations have been known as jack-’o’-lanterns and will-o’-the-wisps, after the figures said to haunt the areas with a light.

Methane (CH4) also called Marsh Gas or Ignis Fatuus, causing a dancing light in swampy ground known as Will-o-the-Wisp or Jack-o-Lantern. Observed 1811.

Image Credit: World History Archive / Alamy Stock Photo

Another folk tale originating in Shropshire, recounted in Katharine M. Briggs’s A Dictionary of Fairies, features a blacksmith named Will. He is punished by the Devil for squandering a second chance to enter heaven. Provided with a single burning coal to warm himself, he then lures travellers into the marshes.

Why are they called Jack O’Lanterns?

Jack O’Lantern appears as a term for a carved vegetable lantern from the early 19th century, and by 1866, there was a recorded link between the use of carved, hollowed-out pumpkins resembling faces and the season of Halloween.

The origin of the name Jack O’Lantern draws from the folk tales of the wandering soul, but probably also draws from contemporary naming conventions. When it was common to call unfamiliar men by the name “Jack”, a night watchman may have assumed the name “Jack-of-the-Lantern”, or “Jack O’Lantern”.

What does the Jack O’Lantern symbolize?

The custom of carving faces to deter figures like Jack O’Lantern may have built on much longer traditions. Vegetable carvings may have at one point represented war trophies, symbolising the severed heads of foes. An older precedent exists in the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain which inspires the modern Halloween holiday.

Samhain commemorated the onset of winter, when the souls of the deceased walked the earth. During Samhain festivities, which took place on 1 November shortly after the harvest, people may have worn costumes and carved faces into whatever root vegetables were available in order to ward off the wandering souls.

The American Jack O’Lantern

Though the pumpkin is native to North America, most English colonists may have been familiar with pumpkins before they settled there. Pumpkins travelled to Europe within three decades of Columbus’ first voyage to the Americas. They were first mentioned in European writings in 1536 and by the mid-16th century, pumpkins were being cultivated in England.

While pumpkins were easy to grow and proved versatile for different meals, colonists also recognised the vegetable’s visual appeal. This helped establish the vegetable as a fixture at harvest festivals by the time Irish immigrants in the 19th and 20th centuries helped popularise the traditions of Jack O’Lanterns in America.

Pumpkins and Thanksgiving

Thanks to its vibrant and outsized physical appearance, the pumpkin is the subject of pageantry, competitions, and seasonal decorations in the United States and elsewhere. This is especially the case during the American holiday of Thanksgiving, which takes place on the fourth Thursday of November.

A traditional aetiology for pumpkin feasting at Thanksgiving recalls the harvest celebration between the Pilgrims of Plymouth, Massachusetts and the Wampanoag people in 1621. This is despite the fact that no pumpkin was eaten there. According to Cindy Ott, author of Pumpkin: The Curious History of an American Icon, pumpkin pie’s place in Thanksgiving meals was only assured in the 19th century.

Pumpkins at Halloween

The popularization of Halloween as an entertainment event happened around the same time as the development of Thanksgiving. Halloween had long been a fixture on European calendars under the name of All Hallow’s Eve. This was a holiday which blended the traditions of Celtic Samhain and the Catholic holidays of All Souls’ Day and All Saints’ Day.

As the historian Cindy Ott notes, existing rural harvest decorations were folded into the scenery as foils for more paranormal spectacles. Pumpkins became central to these backdrops. Party planners, she records, advised using pumpkin lanterns, which the popular press had already turned into props in picturesque visions of country life.

Boys scaring their friend on his way home with a Halloween pumpkin prank 1800s. Hand-coloured woodcut

Image Credit: North Wind Picture Archives / Alamy Stock Photo

Themes of death and the supernatural continued to figure in Halloween carvings on pumpkins. In an October 1897 issue of Ladies Home Journal, the authors of a Halloween entertainment guide expressed how, “We are all of us the better for an occasional frolic, and Halloween, with its quaint customs and mystic tricks, affords opportunity for much innocent merriment.”

Pumpkins and the supernatural

The associations between pumpkins and the supernatural in fairy tales have also helped to cement its status as a Halloween icon. The fairy godmother of Cinderella turns a pumpkin into a carriage for the title character, for example. Meanwhile, a pumpkin has a prominent role in Washington Irving’s ghost story The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, first published in 1819.

The role of a smashed pumpkin found near the last traces of the character Ichabod Crane has helped transform the pumpkin into an essential Halloween fixture, while the headless horseman in the tale has commonly been rendered with a pumpkin on his neck.

Conventionally, we host costume parties, watch scary movies, carve pumpkins and light bonfires to celebrate the occasion, while the younger generations are off trick-or-treating down the road.

Just like any holiday we tend to celebrate, we can trace the origin of Halloween far back in time. Beyond the scary pranks and the spooky outfits, the festivities have a rich, cultural history.

Celtic Origins

The origins of Halloween can be traced back all the way to the ancient Celtic festival known as Samhain – pronounced ‘sow-in’ in Gaelic language. It was originally an event that marked the end of the harvest season and the beginning of winter in Ireland. The day after, on 1 November, would mark the ancient Celts’ new year.

Like other ancient Gaelic festivals, Samhain was seen to be a liminal time, when the boundaries separating the spiritual world and the real world were reduced. This is why Halloween has become associated with appearance of spirits, fairies and ghosts from the mythical ‘Otherworld’.

Images from a Celtic cauldron found in Denmark, dating back to 1st Century BC. (Image Credit: CC).

Evil Spirits

When the lines were blurred between worlds of the living and the dead, Celts used the opportunity to honour and worship their ancestors. Many, however, were concerned about the access darker and evil spirits had to influence those in the real world.

This is why many Celts dressed their children as demons to confuse the evil spirits and marked their doors with animal blood to deter unwanted visitors.

Sacrifice

With newly uncovered archaeological evidence, historians are almost certain that animal, as well as human sacrifices, were made during Samhain to honour the dead and the Celtic Gods. It is thought that the famous ‘Irish Bog Bodies’ may be the remains of Kings who were sacrificed. They suffered the ‘threefold death’, which involved wounding, burning and drowning.

Crops were also burnt and bonfires were made as part of the worship of Celtic deities. Some sources claim these fires were made to honour the ancestors, while others indicate that these fires were part of the deterrence of evil spirits.

Roman and Christian Influence

Once Roman forces had conquered a vast amount of Celtic territory by 43 AD in Northern France and the British Isles, traditional Roman religious festivals were assimilated with the pagan celebrations.

The Roman festival of Feralia was traditionally celebrated in late October (although some historians suggest the festival occurred in February). It was a day to commemorate the souls and spirits of the dead, and was hence one of the first festivals to be combined with the Celtic festival of Samhain.

Another festival was the day of Pomona, the Roman goddess of fruit and trees. In Roman religion, the symbol that represented this goddess was an apple. This has led many to believe the Halloween tradition of apple bobbing originated from this Roman influence on the Celtic celebration.

“Snap-Apple Night”, painted by Irish artist Daniel Maclise in 1833. It was inspired by a Halloween party he attended in Blarney, Ireland, in 1832. (Image Credit: Public Domain).

It is believed that from the 9th century AD, Christianity had began to influence and displace old pagan rituals within the Celtic regions. At the behest of Pope Gregory VI, ‘All Hallows’ Day’ was assigned to the date of 1 November – the first day of the Celtic new year. The Pope, nevertheless, renamed the event ‘All Saints’ Day’, in honour of all the Christian Saints.

‘All Saints’ Day’ and ‘All Hallows’ Day’ are terms that have been used interchangeably throughout history. The eve before these dates was then called ‘Hallowe’en’ – a contraction of ‘Hallows’ Evening’. In the last century however, the holiday has been referred to simply as Halloween, celebrated on ‘Eve’ before the Day of the Hallows, on 31 October.

It was first shown to audiences in 1921 as South, a timeless film whose dramatic images captured the travails of the expedition and fixed it in our memories.

In the History Hit film Saving South, made in association with the BFI, Dan Snow visits the British Film Institute’s special sub-zero nitrate film storage facility where blast-proof vaults protect the last fragments of Frank Hurley’s remarkable original footage.

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“South is a hugely important film,” explains the BFI’s silent film expert, Bryony Dixon. “It’s the first documentary feature ever made. This all-encompassing narrative, including all this incredible footage [of] the crew, the wildlife, scenes that had never been seen before, both in terms of this famous story but just what Antarctica was like. It’s an incredible achievement. To have gotten any pictures at all and brought them back was amazing.”

Hurley might never have brought his footage back. Not only did Hurley film and develop the footage while the ship Endurance was beset by ice, he rescued it from the ship as it sank and later buried his precious footage in the icy soil of Elephant Island as the crew awaited rescue. He did not know it but the cold of the permafrost was ideal for preserving celluloid film. It is now stored at -4.1 degrees Celsius.

Hurley, an Australian known for his extreme camerawork (he is pictured setting up in the rigging), was recruited especially for the expedition. The last footage he captured was the moment the mast of Endurance collapsed. Later he wrote that “I had my camera trained on the ship the whole time. I secured the unique film of the masts collapsing.” He had to throw his cine camera away before trekking and rowing to Elephant Island.

Hurley’s footage was assembled and released after the First World War. The viewing copies of South became scratched and damaged by projectors, yet South is among the classic films the BFI has worked hard to restore.

Angelo Lucatello of the BFI National Archives Conservation Centre explains that the 1996 restoration of South took five years to make. “We looked at about 90 copies and we cut the material together out of 13 different sources. So it’s a little bit like a jigsaw.”

Conservators will prefer original footage that is damaged, but crisp, over copies. “There’s always a problem that you will lose quality,” says Lucatello. “There’s a chance of dirt being printed in.” Examining the negatives yields other insights including Hurley’s use of in-camera effects, such as under-cranking the film when the ship broke up to exaggerate movement and underscore its drama.

Thanks to the work on the original negatives, we can watch the entirety of South as shot by Hurley, cleaned up and digitally remastered: an exceptional dispatch from an audacious Antarctic expedition undertaken a century ago.

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However, there was another crew member aboard the Endurance: Mrs. Chippy, a beloved tabby cat known for its devotion to its master, ability to climb rigging and close shaves with death.

Here’s the story of Mrs. Chippy, the Endurance‘s feline crew member.

Mrs. Chippy was a Scottish cat

Mrs. Chippy, a tiger-striped tabby, was bought by Scottish shipwright and carpenter Harry ‘Chippy’ McNish (chippy being a colloquial British term for a carpenter) from his home in Cathcart, Scotland, where he lived in a cottage called Mole Catcher’s House. Mrs. Chippy earned its name by dutifully following Chippy McNish around, like an overly attentive wife.

The name stuck. When Chippy McNish was chosen to be part of the crew on Shackleton’s Endurance, Mrs. Chippy came along too. A ship’s cat, Mrs. Chippy was tasked with both catching mice and rats and being a source of company for the whole crew. After a month at sea, it was learned that the robust tabby cat was in fact ‘not a lady, but a gentleman’.

He was an able seaman

The crew having their hair cut onboard Endurance in 1914. Mrs. Chippy would have been present at many of these events.

Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons

The expedition photographer Frank Hurley captured the only known picture of Mrs. Chippy. However, many of the crew wrote about him being ‘full of character’ in their diaries and logs and attested to his confidence and ease at sea.

Captain Frank Worsley detailed Mrs. Chippy’s habit of climbing the rigging “exactly after the manner of a seaman going aloft”, while meteorologist Leonard Hussey noted that he used to take a provocative stroll across the roofs of the dogs’ kennels. He also impressed the crew with his ability to walk along inch-wide rails in the roughest of seas.

However, Mrs. Chippy’s sea legs occasionally wobbled. In an entry dated 13 September 1914, Storekeeper Thomas Orde-Lees wrote that “an extraordinary thing happened during the night. The tabby cat jumped overboard through one of the cabin portholes and the officer on watch, Lt. Hudson, heard her screams and turned the ship smartly round & picked her up. She must have been in the water 10 minutes or more”.

He was picked up by the ship’s biologist Robert Clark, who used one of his sample nets. It seems that one of Mrs. Chippy’s nine lives was used up.

He was shot

After the Endurance became trapped in pack ice, the transcontinental plan was abandoned. Shackleton’s focus was now one of survival, and he began drawing up plans to march the crew westward to one of several possible destinations.

Shackleton’s expedition to the Antarctic faithful dogs being fed in the ice kennel, while Endurance was stuck fast. 1916.

Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons

Shackleton ordered that the weakest animals who could not support the perilous journey would need to be shot. Along with five sled dogs (including three puppies, one of whom was the surgeon’s pet), Mrs. Chippy was ordered to be killed.

The ship’s crew reportedly doted over Mrs. Chippy in his final hours, giving him hugs and feeding him his favourite food, sardines, which was perhaps laced with a sleeping drug.

In a diary entry from 29 October 1915, Shackleton recorded:

“This afternoon Sallie’s three youngest pups, Sue’s Sirius, and Mrs. Chippy, the carpenter’s cat, have to be shot. We could not undertake the maintenance of weaklings under the new conditions. Macklin [who owned a pet puppy], Crean [in charge of the dog-handling], and the carpenter seemed to feel the loss of their friends rather badly.”

McNish never forgave Shackleton

McNish proved to be an essential crew member when he was chosen, along with 5 others, to sail some 800 miles in a single lifeboat to South Georgia. He refitted the boat to make the journey possible, and arguably saved the lives of the whole crew as a result.

South Georgia & South Sandwich Islands stamp featuring Mrs. Chippy.

Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons

McNish never forgave Shackleton for killing his cat. Their relationship worsened, and Shackleton even threatened to shoot him for arguing that the crew no longer had to take the captain’s orders since their contract had lapsed upon the sinking of the Endurance in November 1915.

Shackleton and McNish’s relationship was so bad that Shackleton refused to recommend McNish for a Polar Medal that the rest of the crew later received. McNish’s family would (in vain) later try and lobby the British government that McNish be posthumously awarded the same medal in 1997.

Before he died in 1930, McNish repeatedly stated to his friends, family and visitors, “Shackleton killed my cat”.

A statue of him is on his master’s gravestone

Mrs. Chippy’s statue by Chris Elliot. On Harry McNeish’s grave in Karori cemetery, Wellington, New Zealand.

Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons

McNish died in destitution in Wellington, New Zealand, in 1930. Though he was buried with full military honours in a Karori cemetery, he was buried in an unmarked pauper’s grave.

In 1959, the New Zealand Antarctic Society were shocked to learn that McNish had received only a pauper’s burial, so raised funds for a headstone to stand on his grave.

In 2004, the same society decided to create a marker for Mrs. Chippy. The public donated funds to create a life-size bronze statue of Mrs. Chippy, and later the same year, around 100 people gathered round McNish’s grave and read words of tribute for both the carpenter and his cat.

There are no words on the grave about beloved Mrs. Chippy. However, it is telling that those visiting the grave often present his little statue with flowers.

Read more about the discovery of Endurance. Explore the history of Shackleton and the Age of Exploration. Visit the official Endurance22 website.