In the heart of Dublin stands St. Michan’s Church, a haunting reminder of how history can live—or die—before our eyes. Founded in 1095 (and later refurbished in 1686), it was initially built to serve the Viking community on the north side of the River Liffey. Over the centuries, the church has borne witness to Ireland’s evolving history—from the days of Strongbow to the Easter Rising. It is said that George Frideric Handel practiced and revised his Messiah on its famed organ before its debut performance. The church’s Gothic architectural features stand as a testament to Dublin’s rich religious and cultural heritage.
But it is beneath the church, in its ancient crypts, where its most haunting legacy lies: a set of vaults that once housed remarkably well-preserved mummies. The mummies of St. Michan’s are a product of the unique conditions in the underground crypt. The dry limestone walls and cool air created an environment that naturally preserved some of the bodies interred there—some over 800 years old. The discovery and public viewing of these mummies were made possible by an unusual quirk: while tradition and church law would have forbidden the opening of a coffin, the natural decay of the coffins exposed the preserved bodies, allowing them to be seen without any human interference.
These mummies, many belonging to prominent Dublin families, were astonishingly well-preserved. Their leathery skin and skeletal faces were visible in open coffins, offering a chilling glimpse into the past. Among the most famous was the “Crusader,” a towering figure who stood over 6′ 5″ in life and was believed to have participated in the medieval Crusades. His exposed body had one arm extended, and visitors to St. Michan’s were once encouraged to shake his hand. Nearby rested a tiny woman known as “the nun,” a man with a damaged hand referred to as “the thief” (though the exact cause of his injuries remains a mystery), and another woman known simply as “the unknown.”
The crypt also contained the remains of notable historical figures, including the Sheares brothers, Henry and John. Leaders of the 1798 United Irishmen Rebellion, they were executed by the English authorities and laid to rest in the vault. Rumors persist that their fellow patriot, Robert Emmet, may also rest in the crypt, his body still undiscovered.
Of particular relevance during the Halloween season is a lesser-known connection to St. Michan’s crypts. In 1847, a boy was born near the church and its crypts. Though there is no record of him visiting the church, his family held a burial plot in its graveyard, and knowledge of the mummies was widespread in the area. It’s hard not to imagine that the boy might have visited the church and that its dark Gothic architecture, along with the stories of the mummies, left a lasting impression on young Bram Stoker, who would grow up to write Dracula.
The legacy of St. Michan’s and its mummies might have led some to believe in the timelessness of history. But that belief was tragically shattered in 2024 when a man deliberately set fire to the crypt. The blaze caused devastating damage, and the water used to extinguish the fire destroyed the mummies that had survived centuries. Experts have deemed the loss irreversible—not just of the physical remains, but of the historical legacy they represented. St. Michan’s mummies were more than relics; they were a tangible link to Ireland’s past. While the mummies served as a reminder of the fragility of life, their destruction highlights the frailty of history itself and the urgent need for its protection. We cannot assume that because something has survived for centuries, it will continue to exist for future generations. The tragic fate of St. Michan’s mummies is a stark reminder: history will not endure unless we actively work to preserve it.