Tudor surgery was a brutal and often deadly practice, performed without anesthesia, antibiotics, or an understanding of germs. In Tudor England, even the most basic procedures—like amputations or tooth extractions—could lead to unbearable pain and fatal infections. Yet despite its grim reputation, Tudor surgery was also a time of slow but significant medical evolution.
From battlefield amputations to the innovations of Ambroise Paré and the establishment of the Company of Barber-Surgeons under Henry VIII, the Tudor period marked the beginning of more organized and experimental approaches to surgery.
In this post, we’ll explore what Tudor surgery was really like, who performed it, and how it paved the way for future medical breakthroughs.
Transcript of Tudor Surgery: Brutal Operations, Barber-Surgeons & Battlefield Medicine
Today, we are going to talk about something—a topic that is not for the faint of heart. We are going to talk about surgery. Tudor surgeries. So I was thinking about this because my dad is having a pacemaker put in today. He’s had a lot of heart issues. He’s getting older. He had a triple bypass, and today he’s getting a pacemaker. So I was thinking about surgeries, and then I started thinking about surgery in the Tudor period—and here we are. This video is the result.
Surgery in the Tudor period was not for the faint-hearted. There was no anesthesia, no antibiotics, and not even a concept of germs—not in the way we understand it today. Even the simplest procedures could be excruciating and often deadly. I remember reading Samuel Pepys’ diary—he wrote about the experience of having a kidney stone removed in, I think, the 1650s. He almost died. Yeah, not a lot of fun.
A skilled surgeon might save a patient’s life, but just as often, the cure was as bad as the disease. Amputations, crude attempts at cataract surgery—all performed with very basic tools. Survival was often just a matter of luck. But despite the brutality, Tudor surgeons were not entirely ignorant. Their knowledge was built on medieval traditions, drawing from ancient texts, Arab medical advances, and battlefield experience.
Foundations of Tudor Medical Knowledge
So, who were Tudor surgeons? What exactly did they do? To understand Tudor surgery, we have to look back at its medieval foundations. English medicine in this period relied heavily on classical texts, particularly those of Galen and Hippocrates, whose theories on the four humors—blood, phlegm, yellow bile, and black bile—dominated medical thought. Surgeons were expected to balance these humors, sometimes using surgery as a last resort when other treatments failed.
Medieval medical texts like the Trotula—a collection of writings on women’s health—and Bald’s Leechbook, an Anglo-Saxon medical compendium, contained remedies ranging from herbal tisanes to primitive surgical procedures. These were practical guides rather than scientific breakthroughs, but they reflected the growing importance of hands-on medical knowledge.
Some of the most advanced surgical techniques, however, came from the Islamic world. Physicians like Al-Zahrawi, a 10th-century Arab surgeon, developed surgical instruments that would still be used centuries later—things like scalpels, forceps, and catgut sutures for stitching wounds.
Avicenna’s Canon of Medicine, translated into Latin in the 12th century, also provided a systematic approach to surgery and influenced European medicine well into the Tudor period. Arab surgeons understood cauterization, blood circulation, and even basic anesthesia using sponges soaked in opium or mandrake.
What’s so interesting is that by the Tudor period—after the fall of Constantinople—these texts were beginning to make their way to Tudor surgeons, doctors, and physicians. There was a growing awareness of some of these Arab developments.
But for most people at the time, these medical techniques and advances hadn’t yet become widespread. The average Tudor surgeon had little access to advanced medical knowledge and often relied on crude tools and risky procedures. While European scholars were rediscovering ancient surgical methods, England was lagging behind—clinging to medieval practices that often did more harm than good.
Unlike physicians, who studied at universities and focused on diagnosing illnesses, surgeons were considered lower-status practitioners. Many were actually barber-surgeons, combining hair-cutting with bloodletting, tooth-pulling, and minor surgical procedures.
Can you imagine that? You go in for a haircut and get a tooth pulled at the same time—or maybe have a little minor surgery between trims. The iconic red and white barber’s pole that we see today actually has its origins in this period: the red symbolized blood, and the white represented bandages. Surgeons did not receive a formal education in medicine, but instead trained through apprenticeships—learning by doing rather than through academic study.
The Company of Barber-Surgeons, formally established in 1540 under Henry VIII, attempted to regulate the profession, but standards varied widely. While some surgeons became highly skilled, others were little better than butchers with a sharp knife.
Outside of barber-surgeons, there were itinerant healers and midwives who performed minor surgical procedures such as lancing abscesses, setting bones, or even crude forms of cesarean sections—though, of course, survival in such cases was incredibly rare.
Battlefield surgeons, working under horrendous conditions, gained valuable experience in amputations and wound care, but their techniques were often more about speed than precision.
Common Tudor Surgical Procedures
What kinds of surgeries did Tudors have? Well, surgical procedures in Tudor England were typically desperate measures, performed with little understanding of hygiene or pain relief. If a person needed surgery, it was usually because all other options had failed—and the results could be horrifying.
You had amputations, perhaps the most infamous of Tudor surgeries. These were performed without anesthesia, using saws and knives. A skilled surgeon could remove a limb in under a minute, but without antiseptic, infection was a major killer. Cauterization—pressing a red-hot iron against the wound—was the preferred method to stop bleeding, though it often led to sepsis.
Then there was trepanning, which involved drilling or scraping a hole into the skull—usually to relieve pressure from head injuries or to release “bad humors” believed to cause madness or even epilepsy. While shock and infection killed many patients, remarkably, some survived and even lived for years with gaping holes in their skulls.
You could also have bladder stone removal. This surgery was dreaded by all. Stones were extracted through an incision in the perineum—the area between the legs. A procedure so agonizing that it was often done in just a few minutes to minimize suffering. The risk of fatal infection was extremely high.
Then there was cataract surgery—“needling.” Those with cataracts might undergo couching, a technique in which a sharp needle was used to push the clouded lens out of the patient’s line of sight. There was no guarantee of improved vision, and infection or total blindness often followed.
Tooth extraction? There were no dentists, of course, as we know them today. Tooth pulling was a service offered by barbers, blacksmiths, and even executioners—making a little money on the side. If the crime wave wasn’t too active, if things were peaceful—eh, why not pull some teeth? It was a violent procedure. Teeth were often broken off rather than cleanly removed, and there was no treatment for the resulting infections. Are you seeing a pattern here? There’s a lot of infection happening.
There was also wound treatment. Battlefield wounds were treated with whatever was available. Some Tudor surgeons used wine as an antiseptic—an idea borrowed from Arab medicine. Others relied on cauterizing the wound.
French surgeon Ambroise Paré discovered that a mixture of turpentine, egg yolk, and oil worked better than cauterization—a major innovation that some English surgeons later adopted.
Surgical instruments were terrifying. Rusty saws, knives, and even hammers were used in the absence of delicate tools. Hygiene did not exist, and many operations took place in very unsanitary conditions, with surgeons wiping their blades on their aprons before moving on to the next patient.
I remember the movie Glory—the Civil War movie that came out when I was in high school—about the first Black regiment, the 54th Massachusetts. There was a scene at the very beginning, I think it was after one of the early battles (I can’t remember exactly), showing battlefield surgeons rinsing their knives in pans already bloody from other patients. That image really stuck with me—just the raw, unsanitized brutality of it. Sometimes I think I’d like to go back in time… and other times I think, no, I’m really good right here.
Survival Rates and Pain Management
Anyway, let’s talk about survival rates and pain management, why don’t we? Undergoing surgery in the Tudor period meant experiencing the full force of pain, with very little relief. There were things like opium, but anesthesia as we know it did not exist.
Opium, mandrake root, and alcohol were used to dull pain, but they were unreliable and often administered in insufficient doses. There wasn’t any kind of clear dosing system. Most patients were held down by assistants and expected to endure the procedure with nothing but sheer willpower. Thank you—no.
The biggest killer wasn’t always the surgery itself—it was blood loss and infection. With no knowledge of modern germ theory, surgeons operated with unwashed hands and reused instruments caked in dried blood. Arteries were cauterized with red-hot irons to stop bleeding. This, as I mentioned, often led to sepsis. If the wound didn’t kill you immediately, the infection likely would. Yet somehow, some people actually survived—against all odds.
Battlefield surgery provided grim but valuable experience, and records exist of men enduring multiple amputations and living to tell the tale. One French soldier who had his arm removed by Ambroise Paré recovered due to the surgeon’s innovative use of ligatures instead of cauterization—a practice that Tudor surgeons eventually adopted.
Though survival rates were shockingly low, every success laid the groundwork for future improvements. Despite its brutality, Tudor surgery was evolving—shaped by war, regulation, and Renaissance science.
One of the most influential figures in the advancement of surgery in Northern Europe, as I mentioned, was Ambroise Paré, a French surgeon who revolutionized battlefield medicine. Instead of cauterizing, he developed ligatures—the tying off of blood vessels to control bleeding.
He introduced a gentler method of wound treatment, like I said, using a mixture of egg yolk, rose oil, and turpentine, which dramatically improved healing compared to the standard practice of pouring boiling oil onto wounds. Though his methods were controversial, they eventually gained acceptance across Europe, including in England.
In England, Thomas Vicary, who was Henry VIII’s royal surgeon, compiled one of the most detailed Tudor-era anatomy books: A Profitable Treatise in the Anatomy of Man. This book aimed to educate surgeons on the human body, though much of its content was still based on medieval ideas.
A major turning point came in 1540, when Henry VIII formalized the Company of Barber-Surgeons, merging London’s two main surgical guilds. This was an attempt to regulate and professionalize the field, ensuring that at least some surgeons had proper training. However, barber-surgeons remained distinct from physicians and were still considered a lower-class profession.
One of the biggest shifts in Tudor medical knowledge came from the Renaissance emphasis on human dissection. The most important anatomical work of the period was Andreas Vesalius’s De Humani Corporis Fabrica from 1543, which corrected centuries of misinformation based on animal dissections. While England lagged behind the continent in adopting these ideas, by the late 16th century, more English surgeons were learning from direct observation rather than medieval texts.
Another driver of progress was war. Conflicts in France and Scotland provided surgeons with extensive—if gruesome—experience. Battlefield medicine required quick amputations and innovative wound treatments, leading to improved speed and technique. While survival rates were still low, Tudor surgeons were gradually refining their craft, learning from each operation—even if their patients often paid the price.
Conclusion: Reflecting on Modern Medicine
So, surgery in the Tudor period was a brutal, often fatal affair, but it was not entirely stagnant. Many procedures were still rooted in medieval traditions, but the period also saw the first steps toward modern surgical techniques.
The influence of Paré, Vicary, and Renaissance anatomical studies helped surgeons gain a better understanding of the human body. The creation of the Company of Barber-Surgeons attempted to reinforce some standards, and wartime necessity pushed surgeons to improve their speed and efficiency. But of course, it was still very much a matter of luck. So, I’m not signing up for any surgery from a Tudor barber-surgeon anytime soon. That’s a hard no, thank you on that.
What do you guys think? Are you glad we live in the time of modern medicine? Sometimes I think about it, and I think we tend to see ourselves as so advanced—like science has solved everything. And I think we lose a lot of the mystery and the magic of life with this idea, this Enlightenment-era belief that everything has an answer and everything can be solved with science.
So, I tend to skirt a little into the woo-woo world and the spirituality side, and I’d love for us to bring some of that back. But every time I start leaning too far in that direction, I just remember medicine. And I’m so grateful I live now. I don’t know—maybe in a past life I had some kind of horrible eye experience, and that’s why I’m so squeamish about it.
Related links:
Seamus O’Caellaigh on The Medical Ailments of Henry VIII
How the Tudors Viewed Menopause: Medicine, Myths, and Society
Heather Teysko is the creator, writer, and producer of The Renaissance English History Podcast, the original Tudor history podcast, started in 2009. She's been writing about history online for over 25 years, since her first site on Colonial American history became number one in history on Yahoo in 1998. In 2019 she created Tudorcon, which is now a yearly event, in addition to writing books, and running TudorFair.com - a whimsical Tudor Merch shop.
She has been passionate about Tudor England since she first read Alison Weir's The Six Wives of Henry VIII 30 years ago, and subsequently moved to London after college to spend her time immersed in Tudor history (how exciting when she got to interview Alison for the first time!). In addition to history, she is passionate about travel, and has lived in 3 countries and 4 states (not counting her perpetual state of confusion), and her family (who help her host her YouTube channel occasionally).
