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6 Historical Heads Stolen From Their Graves

F.W. Murnau isn’t having a very good week. At least, his skull isn’t. Neither are the managers at the Stahnsdorf South-Western Cemetery outside Berlin, where, on Monday, officials discovered that someone had broken into the Murnau family plot, opened up the famed film director’s iron coffin, and made off with his head.

It's not the first time someone has broken into Murnau's tomb, which cemetery managers say was desecrated in the 1970s and back in February. Police are investigating the crime, but despite tabloid speculation about occult involvement, the motive is murky. Cemetery manager Olaf Ihlefeldt told the Washington Post: “There was a candle … A photo session or a celebration or whatever in the night. It really isn’t clear.”

The incident could almost be a scene out of Murnau’s best-known film, Nosferatu, a 1922 German expressionist retelling of the Dracula story (it also includes one of the most memorable uses of fake nails in film history). Murnau went on to make other films before dying in a car accident in California in 1931, but it’s the looming Count Orlok as played by Max Schreck, his shadow slinking across the wall, that sticks in everybody’s mind.

Yet Murnau is far from the only celebrity to be relieved of his head after death. Throughout the past few centuries, an assortment of famous people have seen their graves robbed by trophy-seekers, souvenir hunters, mad scientists, and other plunderers. In some ways, it's an ancient story: in traditional societies, headhunting was often a way of harnessing another person's spiritual power, and European societies engaged in their own head-hunting to fill the halls of museums.

But as Colin Dickey, author of Cranioklepty: Grave Robbing and the Search for Genius notes, when it comes to the heads of dead celebrities, the motive may be an extreme version of the drive to collect other celebrity ephemera: “To touch a bit of someone’s greatness, to possess something that radiates with the aura of a legend: this is what drives us to collect autographs, memorabilia, vials of Elvis Presley’s sweat.”

While heads go missing from a variety of contexts (museum cabinets, the tops of flagpoles, people’s houses), the ones listed below have all been dug out of their famous owners’ graves. If there is an afterlife, perhaps the ghosts of these men can provide F.W. Murnau some comfort.

1. Joseph Haydn

Whatever you think about your friends, you probably don’t expect them to steal your skull. But Haydn had the misfortune (or fortune, depending on your point of view) to be friends with an accountant, music lover, and phrenologist named Joseph Carl Rosenbaum. The phrenology Rosenbaum studied insisted that a person’s innermost being could be divined from the bumps on his or her skull, and the craze for this kind of skull-reading spread throughout Europe and America in the 18th and 19th century. Some phrenologists believed in the existence of an "organ of tune," which was said to protrude above the eye and be a clear sign of musical genius. Phrenologists said they had noticed the telling bump in portraits of Mozart and Beethoven, as well as Haydn himself. 

Rosenbaum decided he wanted Haydn's head before the composer was even in his grave, and bribed the gravedigger to deliver the skull a few nights after Haydn's death. The accountant kept it in his house for years, in a black case adorned with a golden lyre. The theft was discovered a decade later, when the Austrian prince who had employed Haydn decided to rebury him in a more lavish tomb, but the wily Rosenbaum handed over a series of fake skulls while keeping the real one for himself. Haydn's true skull didn't join the rest of his remains until 1954, 45 years after the composer's first burial.

2. Mozart

For a few decades at the start of the 20th century, you could see a skull labeled as Mozart’s on display at the International Mozarteum in Salzburg, Austria. Although its provenance has never been rigorously fact-checked, the story goes that the skull had been stolen from Mozart’s grave by the sexton at his cemetery 10 years after the composer died.

Like most not-super-rich Europeans of his day, Mozart was buried in a common grave. And like most graves of the time, his was eventually cleared to make way for new bodies. Supposedly the gravedigger at this particular cemetery, St. Marx’s in Vienna, was a music lover who made a note of where Mozart’s body was buried. And when the grave was cleared in 1801, he took it as a souvenir.

The skull was later passed around among various Viennese before landing in the hands of famed anatomist Joseph Hyrtl, who attached a red label describing its origin to the top of the cranium. Hyrtl may also have been the one who added a note on the skull’s right temporal bone: musa vetat mori (the muse prevents death)—a poignant line from Horace.

In 1902, the skull was donated to the Mozarteum (it's not immediately clear by whom), but it was removed from display in the 1950s on the grounds that tastes had changed and that it had never been conclusively identified as Mozart’s. Some say it also spooked museum-goers by occasionally emitting eerie strains of music.

In the late 1980s, forensic anthropologist Dr. Pierre-François Puech of France’s Museum of Man examined the skull and noted that its details matched contemporary portraits of the composer. The skull also showed marks from a fall that may have hastened Mozart’s death, according to Puech. However, in 2006 scientists hired by Austrian state television to do DNA testing on the item failed to find a match with some of Mozart’s dead relatives. The problem wasn’t just matching Mozart to his family—DNA from the supposed family members showed that not all of his relatives were actually flesh and blood. In other words, someone was sleeping around. The Mozarteum still has the skull, but don’t expect to see it being displayed any time soon.

3. Marquis de Sade

The Marquis de Sade spent the final years of his life confined to an asylum in Charenton, France (if you've ever read his works, you'll understand why). One of the doctors who attended him, L.J. Ramon, wrote that he often used to see Sade walking alone in the asylum: "As I passed I would bow and he would respond with that chill courtesy which excludes any thought of entering into conversation … the only impression he produced on me was that of a haughty, morose elderly gentleman.”

Sade's will asked for him to be buried amongst the trees of his estate at Malmaison, and for acorns to be scattered over his grave, so "the traces of my grave will vanish from the face of the earth as I like to think memory of me will be effaced from men’s mind."

But Ramon was also a phrenologist, and when Sade's body was later exhumed during renovations at the asylum, Ramon took the skull for a little head-bump analysis. In the ridges and valleys of bone, he found evidence of “goodwill . . . no ferocity . . . no aggressive drives . . . no excess in erotic impulses.” All in all, Ramon concluded that the skull was “in every way similar to that of a father of the church.”

Not long after writing those words, Ramon was visited by one of the founders of phrenology, Johann Spurzheim, who persuaded Ramon to hand over Sade's skull to him. Spurzheim died with the skull still in his collection, and it's since been lost to history, as has the rest of Sade's body. However, at least one biographer has written that casts of Sade's skull were later used as a phrenological teaching tool to illustrate the characteristics of benevolence and religious faith.

4. Geronimo 

In 2009, the descendants of the Apache chief Geronimo sued Skull and Bones, Yale's notorious secret society, claiming that the members of the group had robbed their ancestor's grave in 1918 and had been keeping his skull in a glass case at their headquarters. The lawsuit aligned with whispers that had long circulated around campus, and while there's little hard-and-fast proof of the theft, in 2005 the historian Marc Wortman discovered an 1918 letter written from one Bonesman to another and describing "the skull of the worthy Geronimo the Terrible, exhumed from its tomb at Fort Sill." 

Neither of the correspondents were anywhere near Fort Sill, Oklahoma, where Geronimo died a prisoner of war in 1909, so the letter isn’t entirely damning. But it shows that a Bonesman at the time at least believed such a theft had occurred. The writer Alexandra Robbins has documented other evidence in support of the theft, including a 1918 logbook which describes Skull and Bones members using an ax to "pry open the iron door" of the Apache leader's tomb. One of the perpetrators mentioned in the logbook is Bonesman Prescott Bush, father and grandfather of the presidents. However, Wortman has noted that there’s no iron door on Geronimo’s grave—in fact, in 1918, it wasn’t even marked. He believes it’s more likely Bush and his cronies robbed someone else’s grave.

The lawsuit was later dismissed on technical grounds, and Skull and Bones representatives have dismissed the story as a hoax. But Geronimo’s skull is just one of the macabre remnants said to be housed inside the club’s “tomb” at Yale—according to Robbins and others, the society is also reported to have Pancho Villa's skull, Martin Van Buren's skull, and a skeleton they believe to be Madame de Pompadour. 

5. Beethoven

Most of Beethoven is still below ground, but several large chunks of his skull were removed from the rest of him in the mid-19th century. The theft wasn’t noticed until 1888, when Beethoven and cemetery-mate Franz Schubert were exhumed from a graveyard in northwest Vienna and moved to the Zentralfriedhof, Vienna’s central cemetery, as part of an effort to consolidate the city’s burial grounds.

The culprit has never been caught, but William Meredith, director of the Ira F. Brilliant Center for Beethoven Studies at San Jose State University, thinks that a physician friend of Beethoven’s, Gerhard von Breuning, may have taken them in 1863. Back then, Beethoven and Schubert were exhumed so they could be reburied in more secure coffins (grave-robbers were a persistent threat in the 19th century). The composer’s skull stayed above ground for nine days of tests and measurements, and according to Meredith, von Breuning was the only one left alone with the skull. As a friend of Beethoven’s who once visited him so often the composer nicknamed him “trouser buttons” (because Bruening stuck to him the way a button does to clothing), he may not have been able to resist slipping a memento or two into his pocket.

After a torturous journey that involves Goethe and the Nazis (for the full, remarkable story, see Russell Martin’s book Beethoven's Hair), the skull fragments made their way to America, where DNA testing against strands of Beethoven's curls in 2005 proved a match. At last check, the fragments were still in California.

6. Goya

The painter Francisco Goya died in 1828 of a stroke during a visit to France. In 1899, the Spanish government got permission to rebury him in Madrid, but when the Spanish consul assigned to France opened his grave in Bordeaux, he found two skeletons inside. Even worse, there was only one skull.

The decomposition had advanced far enough that the consul was unable to tell which body the skull had once perched atop. He sent a telegraph to Madrid: “Goya skeleton without a head. Please instruct me.” The ministry cabled back, “Send Goya, with or without head.” Since it seemed impossible to tell what was what, the consul had all of the remains dug up and buried together at Madrid's Church of San Antonio de la Florida, whose frescoes Goya had painted. Notably, the cupola fresco depicts Saint Anthony raising a man from the dead.

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Weird
10 People Whose Hearts Were Buried Separately From the Rest of Them
Richard the Lionheart
Richard the Lionheart
Hulton Archive/Getty Images

Though it may seem bizarre today, having your heart buried apart from the rest of your body wasn’t uncommon for European aristocracy of the Middle Ages and beyond. The practice arose in part during the Crusades, when high-ranking warriors had a tendency to die in “heathen” places that weren’t seen as desirable burial locations. But transporting a whole body back to Europe made things pretty stinky, so corpses were stripped of flesh and ferried back to Europe as skeletons, with the inner organs (including the heart) removed and buried where the Crusaders had died. By the 12th century, members of the English and French aristocracy also frequently had their hearts buried separately from the rest of them.

Heart burial became less practical and more symbolic by the 17th century, partly as a religious practice associated with the Jesuits and other Counter Reformation groups. (Some scholars think the heart’s powerful symbolism became particularly important while the Catholic Church was undergoing a moment of crisis.) In Western Europe, it became common for powerful individuals, such as kings and queens, to ask that their hearts be buried in a spot they'd favored during life. In more recent years, Romantic poets and other artists also picked up the practice, which has yet to be entirely abandoned. Read on for some examples.

1. RICHARD I

Richard I, a.k.a. “Richard the Lion-Heart,” ruled as King of England 1189-99 but spent most of his reign fighting abroad, which is how he earned his reputation for military prowess. (He also may or may not have eaten the heart of a lion.) He died after being struck by a crossbow while campaigning in Chalus, France, and while most of his body was buried at Fontevraud Abbey, his heart was interred in a lead box at the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Rouen, France. The organ was rediscovered during excavations in the 1830s, and in 2012, forensic scientists examined it—now mostly reduced to a grayish-brown powder—to learn more about Richard’s precise cause of death (some think a poisoned arrow dealt the fatal blow). The crumbling heart was too decayed to tell them much about how Richard had died, but the scientists did learn about medieval burial rituals, noting the use of vegetables and spices “directly inspired by the ones used for the embalming of Christ.”

2. ROBERT THE BRUCE

Robert the Bruce, King of Scots 1306-29, asked for his heart to be buried in Jerusalem. But it didn't get all the way there—the knight he entrusted it to, Sir James Douglas, was killed in battle with the Moors while wearing the heart in a silver case around his neck. Other knights recovered the heart from the battlefield, and brought it back to Melrose Abbey in Scotland for burial. Archeologists rediscovered what they believed to be the heart in 1920 and reburied it in a modern container; it was exhumed again in 1996, and reburied beneath the abbey’s lawn in 1998.

3. ST. LAURENCE O’TOOLE

St. Laurence O’Toole, the second archbishop of Dublin and one of that city’s patron saints, died in 1180 in France. His heart was sent back to Dublin’s Christ Church Cathedral, where it rested inside a heart-shaped wooden box within an iron cage—at least until 2012, when it was stolen. The dean of Christ Church Cathedral has speculated that the heart might have been taken by some kind of religious fanatic, since it has little economic value, and much more valuable gold and silver objects were ignored. (Weirdly, the thief, or thieves, also lit candles on one of the altars before fleeing.) The item has yet to be recovered.

4. THE PRINCE-BISHOPS OF WÜRZBURG

The prince-bishops of Würzburg (part of modern Germany) practiced a three-part burial: their corpses were usually sent to Würzburg cathedral, their intestines to the castle church at Marienberg, and their hearts, embalmed in glass jars, to what is now Ebrach Abbey. The practice was common by the 15th century, though it may go back as far as the 12th. Their funerals at the Marienberg castle also featured what may be one of history’s worst jobs: a servant was required to hold the heads of the corpses upright during the funeral, which featured the body seated upright and impaled on a pole. The funerals lasted for several days. There were more than 80 prince-bishops; a German cardiologist who made a special study of heart burial says "about 30" of their hearts found their resting places in the abbey.

5. ANNE BOLEYN

According to legend, after Anne Boleyn’s beheading in 1536, her heart was removed from her body and taken to a rural church in Erwarton, Suffolk, where the queen is said to have spent some happy days during her youth. In 1837, excavations at the church uncovered a small, heart-shaped lead casket inside a wall. The only thing inside was a handful of dust (it’s not clear whether it was actually the heart), but the casket was reburied in a vault beneath the organ, where a plaque today marks the spot.

6. LOTS OF POPES

Twenty-two hearts from various popes—from Sixtus V in 1583 to Leo XIII in 1903—are kept in marble urns at Santi Vincenzo e Anastasio a Trevi in Rome. Traditionally, the hearts were removed with the rest of the organs as part of the postmortem preservation process, and kept as relics just in case the pope became a saint.

7. FRÉDÉRIC CHOPIN

Romantic composer Frédéric Chopin died in Paris in 1849, and most of him is buried in that city’s Pere Lachaise, but he asked for his heart to be buried in his native Poland. His sister carried it back to their home country, where it is preserved in alcohol (some say cognac) within a crystal urn inside a pillar at the Church of the Holy Cross in Warsaw. In 2014, scientists conducted a late-night examination of the heart to make sure the alcohol hadn’t evaporated, although their secrecy frustrated scientists who hope to one day examine the organ for clues about what killed the composer.

8. THOMAS HARDY

The burial place of Thomas Hardy's heart in Dorset
Visit Britain, Flickr // CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

The English poet and novelist Thomas Hardy wanted to be buried in his hometown of Stinsford, Dorset, but friends insisted that a burial in Westminster Abbey was the only appropriate choice for someone of Hardy’s literary prominence. But when town officials found out that Hardy’s body was destined for the abbey, they threw a fit, and so a compromise was reached—most of Hardy went to Westminster, but his heart was buried in Stinsford churchyard (where it has its own grave marker). A persistent, but unproven, story has it that a cat ate part of the heart when the doctor who was removing it got distracted; a gruesome addendum says the animal was killed and buried alongside the organ.

9. PERCY SHELLEY

When the poet Percy Shelley died sailing the Mediterranean in 1822, local quarantine regulations dictated that his body had to be cremated on the beach. But his heart allegedly refused to burn, and a friend, the adventurer Edward Trelawny, supposedly plucked it out of the flames. After a custody battle among Shelley’s friends, the heart was given to Percy’s wife Mary, who kept it until she died. Her children found it in a silk bag inside her desk, and it is now said to be buried with her at the family vault in Bournemouth, England.

10. OTTO VON HABSBURG

The powerful House of Habsburg practiced heart burial for centuries, with many of the organs buried in copper urns in Vienna's Augustiner Church. In 2011, Otto von Habsburg, the last heir to the Austro-Hungarian Empire (which was dissolved in 1918), had his heart buried in the Benedictine Abbey in Pannonhalma, Hungary. The rest of him was buried in Vienna. The erstwhile crown prince said he wanted his heart buried in Hungary as a gesture of affection for the country—one half of his former empire.

Additional Sources: "Heart burial in medieval and early post-medieval central Europe"; Body Parts and Bodies Whole.

This story originally ran in 2015.

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Medicine
Smoking Just 1 Cigarette a Day Can Significantly Damage Your Health, Study Finds
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Cutting back on smoking is a noble goal, but simply decreasing the amount of cigarettes you smoke—rather than quitting entirely—isn't as helpful as you might think when it comes to the health risks of tobacco use. ABC News reports that new research published in the BMJ finds that smoking just one cigarette a day still increases the risks of heart disease and stroke significantly.

Led by researchers from University College London and King’s College London, the study found that compared to not smoking at all, smoking one cigarette a day resulted in a 46 percent greater risk of heart disease and a 25 percent greater risk of stroke for men, and for women, a 57 percent greater risk of heart disease and 31 percent greater risk of stroke. Even if a person cuts down from smoking 20 cigarettes a day to one, the study found, the risks of developing heart disease and stroke are only halved—not reduced by 95 percent, as would be proportional. (Previous research has found that lung cancer risk, by contrast, decreases proportionally depending on the number of cigarettes smoked per day.)

The researchers examined 141 previous studies, reported in 55 publications, analyzing the risks of heart disease and stroke among men and women who smoked. The studies each examined risks of light smoking (defined as one to five cigarettes a day) and the risks associated with heavy smoking, or 20 cigarettes per day. The researchers adjusted for whether the studies considered factors like age, cholesterol, and blood pressure, all of which can also impact a person’s risk of heart disease and stroke.

The findings show that any amount of smoking carries high risks. While one cigarette a day might seem like nothing to a heavy smoker, its impacts on the body are significant, and shouldn't be underestimated, either by smokers or by their doctors.

[h/t ABC News]

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