On a hilltop in the Austrian village of St. Thomas am Blasenstein, inside the cool stone crypt of a modest church, a priest has been resting nearly 300 years. His name was Franz Xaver Sidler von Rosenegg, and though he died in 1746, his torso looks eerily intact—skin taut, body walls preserved, death frozen mid-century.

He has become known as the air-dried chaplain. But it wasn’t dry mountain air that kept him whole. It was something a tad stranger.

A Preservation Unlike Any Other

Scientists had long suspected that the body in the crypt was Sidler, a local vicar whose preserved remains inspired whispers of miracles. But only now, through the lens of modern forensic science, have they unraveled the bizarre truth of how his body defied decay.

“Our investigation uncovered that the excellent preservation status came from an unusual type of embalming,” said Andreas Nerlich, a pathologist at Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität in Munich and lead author of a new study published in Frontiers in Medicine. “It was achieved by stuffing the abdomen through the rectal canal with wood chips, twigs and fabric, and the addition of zinc chloride for internal drying.”

In other words, Sidler wasn’t preserved by traditional embalming or natural mummification. His body was packed—via the backdoor—with a blend of spruce and fir wood chips, linen and hemp fabric, and even silk. Some of it was finely embroidered. There was a single glass bead lodged deep inside him, likely from a rosary or monastic garment.

It’s the first known case of this technique, and it worked with uncanny effectiveness.

Science Unpacks a Mystery

Nerlich’s team conducted a full forensic analysis. CT scans revealed that while the head and legs had decayed, Sidler’s torso remained almost pristine. The abdominal cavity was filled with absorbent materials that soaked up internal fluids. Toxicology revealed the presence of zinc chloride, a chemical that dries organic tissue—another unexpected addition to this recipe for preservation.

The team also examined samples from his skin, bones, and teeth. Radiocarbon dating placed his death between 1734 and 1780. Skeletal evidence suggested he was between 35 and 45 years old—matching historical records of Sidler’s life. He died at age 37.

Isotope analysis showed that he ate well, likely enjoying grains, meat, and freshwater fish. His bones bore no sign of chronic malnutrition or physical hardship. But his lungs told a harsher story: cysts and calcifications hinted at tuberculosis. The wear pattern on his teeth suggested years of pipe smoking. Together, these clues point to a slow health decline, ending with a probable pulmonary hemorrhage.

Notably, earlier X-ray scans had identified what some believed was a “poison capsule” inside him—adding a layer of folklore to his death. But the recent analysis debunked that: it was just a bead, not a toxin.

The Purpose—and Puzzle—of the Procedure

Why Sidler was embalmed in this unusual way remains unclear. Most people in rural 18th-century Austria were not embalmed at all. “We have some written evidence that cadavers were ‘prepared’ for transport or elongated laying-out of the dead—although no report provides any precise description,” Nerlich explained.

One theory is that Sidler was meant to be transported—perhaps back to his home abbey. The embalming might have been a logistical necessity, though the journey may never have taken place. The crypt in St. Thomas became his final resting place.

What’s most startling is that this embalming technique—rectal stuffing with absorbent material and drying agents—was previously unknown. It had never been documented in medical or mortuary texts. That doesn’t mean it was unique. It may have simply gone unrecognized in cases where decay obliterated the evidence.

“This type of preservation may have been much more widespread but unrecognized,” Nerlich said. “In cases where ongoing postmortal decay processes may have damaged the body wall…the manipulations would not have been realized.”

A Glimpse Into Forgotten Death Rituals

In places like ancient Egypt, mummification was a sacred rite: organs removed, bodies dried with natron, tombs sealed with ceremony. In Austria, however, no such traditions were documented. Yet here lies a man who was embalmed with equal care—if not with equal reverence.

Sidler’s case reminds us that the boundaries of scientific knowledge often lie not in the distant past, but in the overlooked corners of history. Just because something was never written down doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

And just because a man dies doesn’t mean his story is over.

In fact, sometimes, it’s just beginning.