10 gross historical insights into the once‑thriving skeleton trade reveal a world where complete human frames were bought, sold, and even polished for display. In the not‑so‑distant past, the trade in full skeletons and assorted bones flourished. Bone experts learned how to whiten and preserve the most striking skeletons, while medical doctors clamored for complete sets for research and, dare one say, to flaunt their authority.

10 Gross Historical Overview

10 Bone Oils

Maitre Mazzur stood alone in the United States with a very niche talent. Operating out of New York City in 1876, he could “draw the oil out of human bones” so the skeletons displayed wouldn’t reek of decay.

His technique for eradicating the stench was a tightly guarded secret. Mazzur had learned the method while studying in Paris, home to the premier skeleton makers, and he refused to divulge it to anyone stateside. His cramped workshop on Bleecker Street was off‑limits, and he kept to himself.

During his era roughly five hundred skeletons arrived in NYC each year, destined for colleges, medical schools, artists, and odd‑collector enthusiasts. The remainder of displays were assembled locally from assorted sources, often salvaged from hospital waste collected by janitorial staff.

9 Quality Of Skeletons

Skeletons were graded by quality. A No. 1 set represented the premium tier, crafted for affluent physicians who could afford the $800 price tag in 1891.

At the opposite end sat composite skeletons, pieced together from multiple donors. One donor might supply the skull, another the right arm, yet another the pelvis.

These mixes were commonplace, sold to sideshows, theatres, and horror chambers. Their medical value was limited and they often appeared lopsided because the bones differed in size.

A true skull fetched a composite price of about $150, provided it came from a real person. Skeletons that incorporated imitation bones made from compressed paper pulp sold for far less and typically found buyers among secret fraternal societies.

8 Work Dedication

In 1891, M. de Robaire ran a modest shop in Philadelphia. A sign above the storefront proclaimed “Perfumerie”, yet the upper floor concealed a very different trade.

De Robaire was a skeleton merchant. To keep superstitious neighbors at bay, he used the perfume shop as a front.

A solitary Frenchman, he spent most of his time in the second‑floor workroom assembling skeletons for clandestine clubs and societies.

His bedroom, also on the second floor, doubled as storage. The walls were lined with skulls and crossbones; each bedpost was capped with a skull.

De Robaire sourced most of his bones from France, claiming American and German specimens were merely boiled and felt rough. French bones underwent a two‑to‑three‑month cleaning, emerging white and polished.

Upon receipt, he meticulously assembled the bones, creating some of the finest full skeletons in the nation.

7 Preparation Of The Bones

In France, 1892, the preparation of bones for display was a painstaking and grisly undertaking. Starting with a corpse, a scalpel stripped away all fat, muscle, and tissue.

Once the flesh was cleared, the bones were boiled, with careful monitoring to avoid over‑cooking that would render them rough.

Subsequently, the bones were sun‑exposed, bleaching them white and allowing residual grease to seep out.

Finally, a blend of ether, benzene, and secret chemicals imparted a lasting brightness. This treatment set French bones apart, preventing yellowing and foul odors even in heat.

After cleaning, a master bone‑artisan assembled the spinal column using a brass rod, secured the rib cage with brass wires, and attached hinges and hooks to grant the skeleton realistic mobility.

6 London Gets Its Bodies

By 1899 in London, unclaimed corpses from workhouses and hospitals were first dissected, and if all bones remained intact, they were cleaned for full skeleton displays.

Demand outstripped supply, forcing collectors to await battles and harvest whole, unbroken bodies from battlefields.

After the Battle of Omdurman, newspapers reported that dervish corpses were being transformed into marketable skeletons.

Skeleton dealers assured the public that no British soldier bones were used. They claimed the robust dervish bodies produced the finest, whitest skeletons, commanding higher prices than those sourced from London workhouses.

5 The British Grew Terrible Bones

By 1900, curio collectors and physicians scrambled for premium dervish skeletons, while British bones were deemed the lowest quality on the market.

British bones were frequently stunted and bore a persistent yellow hue; bleaching could not fully remove the tint.

Conversely, French bones were prized for their strength and ease of whitening, fetching mid‑to‑high range prices depending on craftsmanship.

The poor condition of British bones likely stemmed from diet and labor conditions, which, while unfortunate, made them less appealing to those who dreaded having their own remains displayed.

4 Sell Your Own Bones

In the early 1900s, selling one’s own skeleton before death was a known way to raise cash. One 1907 story recounts a newly‑wed man who, after a leg‑breaking accident and lingering internal injuries, chose to sell his bones as a final gift to his wife, receiving $50 in advance.

His wife visited him in the hospital, received the money, and the couple said farewell.

Even for the living, profit could be made from others’ bones. Explorers returning from abroad often brought back indigenous bodies, which were sold to bone dealers and then to skeleton manufacturers.

3 Criminal Heads

In France, criminal skulls were frequently preserved because executed bodies were often unclaimed.

By 1913, certain Paris warehouses dedicated a room solely to these skulls, each labeled with the offender’s name and execution date, sometimes accompanied by pamphlets detailing the crimes.

These skulls were available for purchase by curious collectors and physicians, and could also be rented for lectures or macabre public displays for thrill‑seekers.

2 Spare Parts

Spare skeletal parts formed a significant segment of the bone trade. These components were typically harvested from hospitals after amputations or dissections, then stripped of flesh, bleached, and stored in neatly numbered boxes.

While some served to create composite skeletons, most acted as replacements for broken or missing bones—e.g., a dog‑chewed toe could be swapped out by sending the skeleton to a bone warehouse for a fresh piece.

Major European cities each housed one or more secret bone warehouses, kept hidden due to superstitions. With the right connections, collectors could acquire any bone—from infant to adult—at a price.

1 Britain’s Trade Slump

In 1948, three years after World War II, the British Parliament faced a grim reality: exports of human skeletons were rapidly dwindling.

Art schools, hospitals, and medical institutions were desperate for authentic skeleton displays, yet supply had dried up.

Jokes circulated about posters urging citizens to “hurry up and die and help the export drive.” The skeleton industry was clearly fading, prompting dealers to explore plastic replicas, using brass springs and catgut to mimic the mobility of genuine skeletons.

It’s hard to think of a monarch who has inspired as much heated debate as King Richard III of England. Was he an evil pantomime villain? Or a misunderstood peacekeeper? He spent the first 30 years of his life playing the loyal brother to King Edward IV, maintaining order and upholding justice in the north of the country.

Then, on Edward’s death in 1483, he apparently underwent a complete personality change. He’d been trusted by his brother to act as Lord Protector and make sure the heir, Prince Edward, was placed safely on the throne. Instead, Richard declared the heir illegitimate, chased the widowed queen into hiding, and imprisoned both of his nephews in the Tower of London. He then promptly proclaimed himself King of England. The two boys were never seen again.

His triumph didn’t last long, though. Soon after Richard’s coronation, his son and heir, Edward of Middleham, died at the age of 10 from an unknown illness. A short while later, his wife, Ann Neville, died of presumed tuberculosis. Richard himself died at the Battle of Bosworth in 1485, just two years after becoming king, while fighting desperately to defend his crown. He was beaten by a distant relative named Henry Tudor—and a new era was ushered in.

In a strange postscript to a bizarre and short-lived reign, Richard’s skeleton was discovered under a parking lot in the English city of Leicester in 2012. Until then, his final resting place had been a mystery, and many experts had given up hope that he would ever be found. Richard’s skeleton was carefully excavated, and his remains were studied. He now lies in state at Leicester Cathedral. A visitor’s center has been set up over the site where his remains were discovered, and the actual spot where his body lay for over 500 years can be viewed through a glass floor.

Using modern isotopic techniques and DNA analysis, scientists have been able to learn a lot about Richard’s life and the manner of his death from his skeleton. And the results—like everything surrounding Richard III—are absolutely fascinating.

10 Is It Really Richard’s Skeleton?

There is a 99.999% chance that the skeleton belongs to Richard. We know this because scientists tirelessly worked to sequence the mitochondrial DNA from the bones and match it with two living relatives, Wendy Duldig and Michael Ibsen. Richard’s son didn’t survive to reproduce, so they traced the line all the way down from Richard’s sister, Anne of York, to descendants alive today.

Other information gleaned from the skeleton supports this conclusion. Forensic analysis of the bone joints suggests that the skeleton belonged to an adult male aged 30–34. As Richard died at the age of 32, this would fit.^[1]

9 Taken to Grey Friars after Death

Throughout the centuries, there have been theories about what might have happened to Richard’s remains after the Battle of Bosworth. The most famous emerged in 1611 when the Chronicler John Speed published an account in which he described a mob of Leicestershire locals seizing Richard’s skeleton and tossing it off Bow Bridge into the River Soar. As a result of this (untrue) account, many believed Richard’s remains were lost forever.

We now know that Richard’s body was carried from Bosworth Field to Leicester after his death and laid to rest in the Grey Friars Church. It was the foundation of the church that archaeologists—working in conjunction with Leicester City Council, the University of Leicester, and the Richard III Society—were trying to uncover. They were working on a hunch that the deposed king might have been taken there after the battle and buried in the crypt. They were a mere six hours into the two-week dig when they found Richard!^[2]

8 No Withered Arm

In his famous play Richard III, Shakespeare described the king as having several birth defects, including a hunchback and a withered arm. Richard is portrayed as a treacherous and backstabbing usurper, taking joy in the misery of others and declaring himself a proud “villain” to the audience within the first few lines of the play.

Analysis of the skeleton shows that Richard’s arms had developed normally and were of equal length. This eagerness to cast Richard in the role of pantomime villain was probably due to the audience Shakespeare was writing for—after all, Shakespeare lived during the Tudor era, and Queen Elizabeth was the grandchild of the man who had deposed Richard and taken his crown. A play that praised Richard or presented him in a positive light would not have gone down very well!^[1]

7 Stricken with Scoliosis

An examination of Richard’s spine confirms that he did, in fact, suffer from severe scoliosis, which would have resulted in uneven shoulders (his right shoulder would have been higher than his left shoulder). This matches accounts written by his contemporaries during his lifetime.

It doesn’t seem to have hampered his ability to fight, though, and he won many battles on behalf of his brother during Edward IV’s reign.^[4]

6 Above Average Height

Richard’s skeleton shows that he was 5ft 8in (173 centimeters) tall, which was above average for the time. However, scientists believe that the effect of the scoliosis on Richard’s spine would have made him appear quite a lot shorter than this.

Also, Richard’s portraits often don’t truly portray the man. He is shown as an older king who looks little like the young man he was. Richard was only 32 at his death, and a new facial reconstruction from his skull was revealed to show a more accurate picture.^[5]

5 His Feet Were Missing

Don’t worry—his feet were still attached to him during his lifetime! They had been separated from the rest of his body at some point during the 500 years he lay in the earth. His skeleton was also missing a leg bone. This isn’t particularly unusual for very old remains. In fact, scientists were surprised that the skeleton was so complete!

He probably lost his feet and the missing leg bone during the Victorian era, when an outhouse was built directly above his resting place. Luckily, the rest of the skeleton was left intact for us to examine. Phew!^[6]

4 Multiple Injuries at Death

Medieval battles were tough, unforgiving, and super gory. With no guns to give you the advantage and a limited choice of long-range weapons, combatants were forced to get up close and personal—stabbing, clobbering, and grappling their opponents into submission. Scientists counted eleven wounds on Richard’s body, including blows to his face and ribs, which were severe enough to impact the bones.

We know that Richard received these wounds on or around the time of his death because they hadn’t begun to heal. It’s likely that there were other, more superficial wounds that we can’t see evidence of.^[7]

3 Killed by Blow to Head?

Richard’s skull shows evidence of three very serious injuries sustained on the battlefield. One is a small hole to the side of his head, which may have been caused by a long, thin dagger. The other two are larger wounds at the back and base of the skull and would have been caused by something larger, like an axe or a sword. Both larger wounds could have been fatal, and either could have caused his death.^[8]

2 Stabbed in the Butt

Scientists have identified a mark on Richard’s pelvic bone, which suggests he may have been stabbed in the backside by a sword around the time of his death. Since he would have been wearing heavy armor during the battle, historians think that this wound was probably inflicted after Richard had been killed and stripped of his clothing.

It’s likely the act was symbolic, and it may have been inflicted on his bottom instead of his face to ensure that he would still be recognizable to his supporters when his dead body was paraded around the streets.^[9]

1 Change in His Diet

Using isotopic analysis, scientists can tell an incredible amount about Richard’s diet. They know he ate a lot of fish—typical of a high-status individual at the time. Amazingly, they can tell from studying his tooth enamel that he spent his early childhood in the east of England (he was born in Northamptonshire) but that he had moved to the west of the country by the age of seven. They can also see that his wine consumption increased dramatically in the final years of his life, along with the luxuriousness of his food, and this tallies with his ascension to the throne.^[10]