Hundreds of skulls are neatly and closely placed, cheekbone to cheekbone, in tall, mahogany-framed glass cabinets. Most carry faded, peeling labels, some bear painted catalogue numbers; one has gold teeth; and the occasional one still carries its skin tissue. This is the University of Edinburgh’s “skull room”.
Many were voluntarily donated to the university; others came from executed Scottish murderers; some Indigenous people’s skulls were brought to Scotland by military officers on expeditions or conquest missions. Several hundred were collected by supporters of the racist science of phrenology – the discredited belief that skull shape denoted intelligence and character.
The phrenology wall display case, which shows casts of skulls, as well as life and death masks, at the University of Edinburgh’s anatomical museum. Photograph: Jeremy Sutton-Hibbert/The Guardian
Among them are the skulls of two brothers who died while studying at Edinburgh. Their names are not recorded in the skull room catalogue, but cross-referencing of matriculation and death records suggests they were George Richards, a 21-year-old medic who died of smallpox in 1832, and his younger brother, Robert Bruce, 18, a divinity scholar who died of typhoid fever in 1833.
Exactly how the Richards brothers’ skulls came to be separated from their bodies, recorded as interned in the South Leith parish church cemetery, is unknown. But they were almost certainly acquired by the Edinburgh Phrenological Society to study supposed racial difference.
Researchers believe their case exemplifies the challenging questions facing the university, which, it has now emerged, played a pivotal role in the creation and perpetuation of racist ideas about white superiority and racial difference from the late 1700s onwards – ideas taught to thousands of Edinburgh students who dispersed across the British empire.
University records studied by Dr Simon Buck suggest the brothers were of mixed African and European descent, born in Barbados to George Richards, an Edinburgh-educated doctor who practised medicine on sugar plantations and who owned enslaved people – possibly including George and Robert Bruce’s mother. Edinburgh Phrenological Society’s 1858 catalogue records the skulls (listed as No 1 and No 2) as having belonged to “mulatto” students of divinity and medicine.
“It can be assumed that the racialisation of these two individuals as ‘mulatto’ – a hybrid racial category that both fascinated and bewildered phrenologists – is what aroused interest among members of the society in the skulls of these two students,” Edinburgh’s decolonisation report concludes.
The brothers’ skulls are among the roughly 400 amassed by the society and later absorbed into the anatomical museum’s collection, which now contains about 1,500 skulls. These are held in the Skull Room, to which The Guardian was granted rare access.
The anatomical museum at Edinburgh University houses about 400 skulls as well as models and masks cast in life and death. Photograph: Jeremy Sutton-Hibbert/The Guardian
Many of these ancestral remains, the report states, “were taken, without consent, from prisons, asylums, hospitals, archaeological sites and battlefields”, with others “having been stolen and exported from the British empire’s colonies”, often gifted by a global network of Edinburgh alumni.
“We can’t escape the fact that some of [the skulls] will have been collected with the absolute express purpose of saying, ‘This is a person from a specific race, and aren’t they inferior to the white man’,” said Prof Tom Gillingwater, the chair of anatomy at the University of Edinburgh, who now oversees the anatomical collection. “We can’t get away from that.”
The Edinburgh Phrenological Society was founded by George Combe, a lawyer, and his younger brother, Andrew, a doctor, with roughly a third of its early members being physicians. Both were students at the university, and some Edinburgh professors were active members.
Through its acquisition of skulls from across the globe, the society played a central role in turning the “science” of phrenology, which claimed to decode an individual’s intellect and moral character from bumps and grooves on the skull, into a tool of racial categorisation that placed the white European man at the top of a supposed hierarchy.
George Combe’s book, The Constitution of Man, was a 19th-century international bestseller and the Combe Trust (founded with money made from books and lecture tours promoting phrenology) endowed Edinburgh’s first professorship in psychology in 1906 and continues to fund annual Combe Trust fellowships in the Institute for Advanced Studies in the Humanities.
George Combe took a cast of the skull of his own brother, Andrew, for a phrenological report. Photograph: Jeremy Sutton-Hibbert/The Guardian
Phrenology was criticised by some of Edinburgh’s medical elite for its unscientific approach. But some of its most vocal critics were nonetheless persuaded that immutable biological differences in intelligence and temperament existed between populations, a study by Dr Ian Stewart for the university’s decolonisation report reveals.
These included Alexander Monro III, an anatomy professor at the University of Edinburgh medical school, who lectured “that the Negro skull, and consequently the brain, is smaller than that of the European”, and Robert Jameson, a regius professor of natural history, whose lectures at the university in the 1810s included a hierarchical racial diagram of brain size and intelligence.
Despite the fact that phrenology was never formally taught at Edinburgh, and its accuracy was heavily contested by Edinburgh academics, the skull room, which is closed to the public, was built partly to house its collection by the then professor of anatomy Sir William Turner, when he helped oversee the construction of its new medical school in the 1880s.
Among its reparatory justice recommendations of Edinburgh’s investigation is that the university provide more support for the repatriation of ancestral remains to their original communities.
This, Gillingwater suggested, possibly underplays the complexities involved – even for cases such as the Richards brothers. He regards the circumstantial evidence in their case as “strong” but says it does not meet the forensic threshold required for conclusive identification.
“From a legal perspective, it wouldn’t be watertight,” said Gillingwater. “I would never dream of returning remains to a family when I didn’t know who they definitely were.”
Phrenology often placed European men at the top of a hierarchy and was used by some to justify slavery. Photograph: Jeremy Sutton-Hibbert/The Guardian
Active engagement surrounding repatriation is taking place in relation to several of the skulls from the phrenology collection; more than 100 have already been repatriated to their places of origin. But each case takes time building trust with communities and in some cases navigating geopolitical tensions over which descendent community has the strongest claim to the remains.
“To look at perhaps repatriation, burials, or whatever, it’s literally years of work almost for each individual case,” said Gillingwater. “And what I found is that every individual culture you deal with wants things done completely differently.”
Many of the skulls will never be identified and their provenance is likely to remain unknown. “That is something that keeps me awake at night,” said Gillingwater. “For some of our skulls, I know that whatever we do, we’re never going to end up with an answer.”
“All I can offer at the minute is that we just continue to care for them,” he added. “They’ve been with us, many of them, for a couple of hundred years. So we can look after them. We can care for them. We can treat them with that dignity and respect they all deserve individually.”