Books Bound in Human Skin: The Dark Truth About Harvard's Library Collection

A Practice With a Name: Anthropodermic Bibliopegy

The binding of books in human skin — a practice known as anthropodermic bibliopegy — is not purely the stuff of horror fiction. It occurred in Europe primarily during the 17th through 19th centuries and has been documented in multiple confirmed cases at academic institutions worldwide. Harvard's confirmed example is among the best-documented and most thoroughly verified.

The book in question is a French memoir titled "Des destinees de l'ame" (On the Destiny of the Soul), written by Arsène Houssaye and given to Dr. Ludovic Bouland, a French physician, in the mid-19th century. Bouland had the book rebound and left a note inside, written in French, that states: "This book is bound in human skin parchment on which no ornament has been stamped to preserve its elegance. By looking carefully you easily distinguish the pores of the skin. A book about the human soul deserved to have the best possible covering: I had kept this piece of human skin taken from the back of a woman." The note implies the skin came from a patient who died at a psychiatric hospital.

DNA Confirmation in 2014

For many years, Harvard's copy of "Des destinees de l'ame" was believed to be bound in human skin, but the historical record rested primarily on Bouland's own note. In 2014, Harvard Library's preservation staff worked with researchers to subject the binding to peptide mass fingerprinting — a protein analysis technique that can identify species from small samples. The analysis confirmed unambiguously that the binding material is human skin, not any animal leather that might superficially resemble it.

The confirmation simultaneously closed a historical question and opened ethical ones. Harvard began an internal review of what to do with the volume, ultimately deciding to retain it in the collection while contextualizing it appropriately. The university identified the book as belonging to a woman whose remains were used without her consent — a patient who was vulnerable and whose body was treated as a material resource by her physician. The book is maintained in the Houghton Library, Harvard's rare books repository, with documentation of its history and the ethical issues it raises.

Why This Practice Existed

The binding of books in human skin during the 17th through 19th centuries occurred in a cultural and medical context very different from today's. Anatomists, surgeons, and physicians in this period routinely used unclaimed bodies — particularly from prisons, hospitals, and workhouses — for medical education and research. Cadavers for anatomical study were scarce enough that body snatching was a serious criminal problem in 18th-century Britain, providing universities and medical schools with corpses that were then dissected in front of students.

Within this context, the use of human skin for book binding was not an act of extreme transgression by the standards of the time — it was an extension of existing practices around the use of human remains in medical and scientific contexts. Physicians who bound anatomy textbooks in human skin may have considered themselves engaged in a kind of dark symmetry: the contents of the book described human bodies; the covering was made of one. This does not make the practice ethically acceptable by modern standards, but it explains why it was possible without immediate scandal.

Harvard's Confirmed Example Among Several

Harvard's case is the most thoroughly documented because of the DNA verification, but Bouland bound several books in human skin over his career. Others reside in libraries across Europe. The Anthropodermic Book Project, a scholarly initiative launched to investigate claimed examples through systematic testing, has found that most books described as being bound in human skin are actually bound in sheepskin or other animal leather — owners or later curators sometimes claimed human skin binding as a way of adding sensational provenance. But genuine confirmed cases exist at institutions including the College of Physicians of Philadelphia and Bindings in private European collections.

The Harvard book serves as a reminder that library collections are not just repositories of text but also of physical history — including uncomfortable history. The object itself, the DNA it contains, and Bouland's handwritten note are all primary historical documents. Preserving them with accurate context is not the same as endorsing what was done; it is a commitment to honest engagement with the past rather than selective curation.