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While the theft of complete bodies from graves is undeniably dark, there are fascinating cases where individual body parts—both real and artificial, from the living and deceased—have seemingly gone on journeys of their own, often with some assistance.
10. Isaac Ebey's Head and Scalp
The Ebey family rests in Sunnyside Cemetery, Coupeville, Washington. Isaac Ebey, the family's patriarch, is at the heart of a strange and unsettling mystery.
Isaac Ebey was among the earliest white settlers on Whidbey Island, Washington. In correspondence with his brother, he described the island as “a paradise of nature.” However, this paradise was already inhabited, leading to violent clashes between settlers and Native Americans. The USS Massachusetts was sent to safeguard settlers and trade routes, but its attack on a native settlement sparked a desire for vengeance among the survivors.
On August 11, 1857, a group arrived at Ebey’s door. As the Collector of Customs, he answered, only to have his head severed and taken by the attackers.
The fate of Ebey’s head remains unclear. While some sources claim it was recovered two years later, family records contradict military reports. The family asserts that only his scalp was returned in 1860, following his brother’s efforts to seek justice. In 1859, Captain Dodd allegedly traded blankets, a handkerchief, pipes, cotton, and tobacco with Kake contacts to retrieve Ebey’s scalp.
Ebey’s brother documented in his diary the return of the scalp, describing it as eerily well-preserved, complete with ears and hair. Months later, he noted his inability to thank Dodd for retrieving the macabre keepsake, as Dodd had passed away. However, there’s no evidence that Ebey’s brother buried the scalp or recovered the remainder of his head.
Additional accounts indicate that the scalp was handed down to Ebey’s sister, who reportedly showed it to a physician a decade or more later. The scalp eventually went to a niece, and later records suggest it ended up with a California-based branch of the family. With no further references to Ebey’s scalp—or his missing head—the full story remains shrouded in mystery.
9. Santa Anna’s Legs
General Santa Anna, credited with shaping the modern chewing gum industry, is also central to a long-standing feud between Texas and Illinois.
Following the Battle of Cerro Gordo, Illinois troops discovered a carriage filled with gold and Santa Anna’s prosthetic wooden leg. They seized the leg, and for years, one soldier showcased it in his home. Later, it was donated to the state’s military museum, where it remains today. An alternate tale claims the soldiers surprised the general during lunch, prompting him to flee on horseback, leaving his wooden leg behind.
Regardless of the story, Texas has demanded the leg’s return, but Illinois has refused to comply.
Despite no direct connection between Santa Anna’s wooden leg and Texas, the San Jacinto Museum of History has been campaigning for its return, even gathering signatures to escalate the issue to the White House. Their efforts have yet to succeed, and Illinois shows no willingness to relinquish the artifact.
Interestingly, Illinois possesses more than one of Santa Anna’s wooden legs. While his actual leg was buried with military honors after amputation due to cannon fire, he commissioned two replacements—an elaborate version and a simple peg leg. The peg leg, rumored to have served as Abner Doubleday’s baseball bat, now resides at the Oglesby Mansion in Decatur.
8. Walt Whitman’s Brain
In the early 20th century, anatomists sought physical traits in the brain to explain greatness or infamy. Edward Anthony Spitzka, after failing to find such traits in assassin Leon Czolgosz’s brain, turned his attention to the brains of highly accomplished individuals, hoping to uncover the biological basis of their success.
During this era, it was trendy for prominent individuals to donate their brains to science, hoping researchers would uncover the secrets of their brilliance. Spitzka acquired Walt Whitman’s brain. However, in a 1907 publication, he offhandedly mentioned that a lab assistant had dropped the brain, shattering it on the floor.
As a result, they disposed of it.
While this is the official account, skepticism remains. When pressed for details, friends received a statement from the Wistar Institute of Anatomy claiming that the brain shattered during preservation attempts. Another theory suggests the brain wasn’t broken but misplaced at Jefferson College. Neither explanation provides a definitive answer.
Spitzka began his research using brains from prominent members of the American Anthropometric Society (AAS). However, the society maintained poor records and mishandled the specimens. Many brains were damaged, incorrectly weighed, or missing entirely. One was left in a hardening solution until it disintegrated, and Whitman’s brain was allegedly dropped and destroyed.
The Walt Whitman Quarterly Review suggests the incident was part of a larger cover-up. It’s unclear whether Whitman was an AAS member or if his family consented to the brain’s removal. Little is known about the AAS, but some speculate that its members, seizing an opportunity, inducted Whitman on his deathbed and took his brain posthumously. The truth remains elusive.
7. Sarah Bernhardt’s Leg
Sarah Bernhardt, a 19th-century superstar, embarked on nine U.S. tours. Victor Hugo praised her golden voice, and European audiences compared her performances, such as her role as Napoleon’s son, to the “frenzy” of a Roman gladiatorial arena.
While most of her body rests in Paris’s Pere-Lachaise Cemetery following her death in 1923, her leg remains in a Bordeaux University storeroom. The university clarifies that this isn’t a case of losing the leg but rather forgetting it was there.
In 1898, during a performance of Tosca, Bernhardt injured her knee while leaping from an onstage castle. At 54, the chronic pain became unbearable, leading her to insist on amputation above the knee in 1915. Medical examination confirmed the necessity of the procedure. Remarkably, within months, she was touring warfronts, entertaining and inspiring troops.
Bernhardt’s leg wasn’t found until 2009, though doubts remain about its authenticity. Since her pain was concentrated in her knee, the amputation occurred above it. The discovered leg lacks a knee, leading some to suspect a mix-up and that it isn’t hers. Others argue it is her leg, with the knee removed, dissected, and discarded separately.
6. Lord Uxbridge’s Legs
One account describes Lord Uxbridge and the Duke of Wellington observing the Battle of Waterloo when a mortar shell flew over Wellington and struck Uxbridge’s leg. Uxbridge allegedly exclaimed, “By God, sir, I’ve lost my leg,” to which Wellington calmly replied, “By God, sir, so you have.”
While the exchange sounds like classic British understatement, it’s historically inaccurate. Uxbridge lost his leg during the heat of battle and was transported to a house in Waterloo owned by Hyacinthe Paris. Paris observed the stream of officers and doctors assessing Uxbridge’s severely injured leg. When doctors concluded the leg was irreparable, they amputated it.
Seeing a business opportunity, Paris requested the amputated leg. He buried it in his garden, complete with a tombstone, and charged visitors to view it. Later, when Uxbridge revisited the Paris family, he discovered they were still dining at the table where his leg had been removed.
The final fate of Uxbridge’s leg remains uncertain. Although the house no longer stands, multiple conflicting accounts offer possible clues about its location.
One account claims the leg was unearthed in Paris’s yard during a windstorm that uprooted a tree. By then, it was little more than bone and was displayed in the house. When Uxbridge’s son requested its return, the Paris family attempted to sell it. Another version suggests the leg was eventually reunited with Uxbridge after his death, while a third insists it remains buried in Waterloo.
Uxbridge’s prosthetic legs also have a storied history. He owned three advanced models known as “Anglesey Legs,” featuring hinged knees and flexible ankles. One is housed at Plas Newydd in Anglesey, another at the Musee Wellington in Waterloo, and the third at the Household Cavalry Museum in Whitehall.
5. Antonio Scarpa’s Head, Thumb, Finger, and Urinary Tract
Antonio Scarpa, the neurologist behind Scarpa’s nerve, Scarpa’s ganglion, and the liquor Scarpae, was known for naming his discoveries after himself. His arrogance was legendary—fired from a university post for refusing to pledge loyalty to the new king, he favored his illegitimate children, spread malicious rumors about rivals, and openly declared his intellectual superiority.
Scarpa’s unpopularity was so widespread that his marble statues were vandalized shortly after his death. His legacy serves as a cautionary tale about mistreating others, especially those who handle your remains posthumously.
Carlo Beolchin, Scarpa’s former assistant, conducted his postmortem. Along with other assistants, Beolchin preserved Scarpa’s head, index finger, thumb, and urinary tract as anatomical specimens. The act is widely believed to have been driven by a dark desire for revenge against a man who claimed all credit and treated them poorly.
Scarpa, unmarried and without family to intervene, saw his preserved parts meet a humiliating fate—left in storage rather than displayed. However, on the centenary of his death, the Museo per la Storia dell’Universita di Pavia was established, and Scarpa’s head was finally exhibited. The rest of his remains remain in storage.
4. Daniel Sickles’ Leg
In 1859, Daniel Sickles became infamous for shooting and killing Francis Barton Key, his wife’s lover and son of Francis Scott Key. Acquitted using the insanity defense, Sickles later joined the military and rose to the rank of major general by 1862.
Sickles participated in the Battle of Gettysburg, despite widespread opposition. Known for ignoring orders and disregarding plans, his actions at Chancellorsville had already caused significant issues. At Gettysburg, his disobedience led to the devastation of the Third Corps.
During the battle, a cannonball struck Sickles’ leg. Despite the injury, he remained on his horse, issuing commands until his staff forcibly removed him and took him to a field hospital. According to Union accounts, he spent the journey smoking a cigar and continuing to give orders. After the amputation, he insisted his leg be preserved.
Around the same time, the Army Surgeon General had requested the collection of “specimens of morbid anatomy,” and Sickles seized the opportunity for lasting recognition. He had his leg preserved, placed in a coffin, and sent to the Army Medical Museum with a note: “With the compliments of Major General D.E.S.”
Despite his battlefield misconduct, Sickles was awarded a Medal of Honor and appointed ambassador to Spain, where he remarried and had more children. His leg was displayed in the museum, and he visited it annually on the anniversary of its amputation.
3. Friedrich Schiller’s Skull
Friedrich Schiller, a renowned German poet and playwright, has a story filled with strange turns—many of which remain unresolved.
After Schiller’s death in 1805, he was interred in a mass grave in Weimar, Germany. In 1826, the mayor of Weimar decided to honor him with a proper burial. However, identifying his remains proved difficult. When 27 skulls were unearthed, the mayor arbitrarily selected the largest one, claiming it must belong to the celebrated intellectual.
This solution held for some time. However, in 1911, doubts arose about the skull’s authenticity. Upon reexamining the mass grave, 63 skulls were considered potential matches. Another was chosen as Schiller’s and placed in a crypt. The remains were disturbed once more when the Nazis seized both Schiller’s supposed skull and the body of his friend, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.
The Allies returned the remains to Weimar in 1945. Yet, in the 1950s, an examination revealed that the skull in Schiller’s sarcophagus likely belonged to a woman.
In 2008, Weimar authorized DNA testing on the skulls to identify Schiller’s. The results were clear—neither skull was his. While many question how the error persisted for so long, the fate of Schiller’s actual skull remains unknown. It may still lie in the mass grave, though some historians speculate it was stolen by grave robbers in the 19th century.
2. William Thompson’s Scalp
On August 6, 1867, British immigrant William Thompson was part of a team repairing telegraph lines in Cheyenne territory. The lines had been sabotaged to lure settlers into an ambush. Soon, all but Thompson were killed. He recounted being chased, shot in the arm, and struck with a rifle butt. As he lay wounded, he was stabbed in the neck and scalped by his attacker.
Despite his injuries, Thompson remained conscious. After his attacker left, he retrieved his scalp and sought help. Miraculously, he survived. Journalist Henry Morton Stanley, who interviewed Thompson, described seeing the scalp in a water pail, comparing it to a drowned rat.
Thompson had hoped doctors could reattach his scalp, but medical capabilities at the time were insufficient. Though they attempted the procedure, it failed. As a macabre keepsake, Thompson gave the scalp to one of the doctors. It eventually ended up at the Omaha Public Library and later the Union Pacific Railroad Museum.
Journalist Moses Sydenham documented Thompson’s account of being scalped for the Daily Sun: “The feeling was like a red-hot iron pressed against my head. Once air hit the wound, the pain became unbearable . . . I bit my tongue to stop myself from touching it. I wanted to see how much of my skull remained.”
1. King Badu Bonsu’s Head
In 1837, two Dutch envoys were killed in the court of Ghana’s King Badu Bonsu II. Their decapitated heads were placed on the king’s throne as a stark statement of his disdain for the Dutch presence in his land. The Dutch swore retaliation, launching an expedition under the guise of scientific research. They bribed a court insider to reach the king, capturing, executing, and beheading him.
The king’s head was transported to Holland, where it became part of a phrenology study. Although this field of science was later debunked, the head remained at Leiden University. Preserved in a jar and stored away, it was forgotten by the Dutch but not by those who revered Badu Bonsu as their leader.
In 2002, Dutch author Arthur Japin discovered the king’s head in a university cupboard while researching his novel The Two Hearts of Kwasi Boachi. Interestingly, his book tells the tale of an Ahanta boy taken from Ghana (then the Gold Coast) to Holland. The story is set in 1837, just a year before Major General Jan Verveer returned with the head of King Badu Bonsu II.
As Japin recounted to The Independent, “The staff removed [the king’s head] from its round jar and placed it on the lab sink for me. The formaldehyde had bleached it white, yet it remained life-sized, and he appeared as though he were sleeping. I thought, ‘this is so wrong, you deserve to return home.’ ”
The university initially refused. However, a few years later, Japin attended a state dinner with Ghana’s president and the Dutch queen. He shared his discovery with the dignitaries, prompting the Ghanaians to launch a campaign for the head’s repatriation.
The process, however, proved challenging. When Ghanaian delegates arrived in Holland, they were handed the head to bring back. While Dutch officials apologized for the dark history of slavery and oppression in Ghana, the tribal elders were furious. They had only been sent to verify the head’s identity, and retrieving it directly was considered a significant violation of Ghanaian customs.
The fate of the king’s head upon its return to Ghana remained unclear. Rumors suggested that the king had never been buried, as it is a grave offense to inter a body that is incomplete. Only with the head’s return could the king be laid to rest properly, provided the Ghanaians could locate where his body had been concealed.
