
Do you swoon at the sight of blood?
SufÂfer paper cuts as major trauÂma?
CovÂer your eyes when the knife comes out in the horÂror movie?
If so, and also if not, fall to your knees and give thanks that you’re not the Wound Man, above.
A staÂple of medieval medÂical hisÂtoÂry, he’s a grisÂly comÂpendiÂum of the injuries and exterÂnal afflicÂtions that might befall a morÂtal of the periÂod- insect and aniÂmal bites, spilled entrails, abscessÂes, boils, infecÂtions, plague-swollen glands, piercÂings and cuts, both acciÂdenÂtal and delibÂerÂateÂly inflictÂed.
Any one of these trouÂbles should be enough to fell him, yet he remains upright, disÂplayÂing every last one of them simulÂtaÂneÂousÂly, his expresÂsion stoÂic.

He’s hard to look at, but as art hisÂtoÂriÂan Jack HartÂnell , author of Medieval BodÂies: Life, Death and Art in the MidÂdle Ages writes in British Art StudÂies:
The Wound Man was not a figÂure designed to inspire fear or to menÂace. On the conÂtrary, he repÂreÂsentÂed someÂthing more hopeÂful: an imagÂiÂnaÂtive and arrestÂing herÂald of the powÂerÂful knowlÂedge that could be chanÂnelled and disÂpensed through the pracÂtice of medieval medÂiÂcine.
A valuÂable eduÂcaÂtionÂal resource for surÂgeons for some three cenÂturies, he began cropÂping up in southÂern GerÂmany in the earÂly 1400s. In an essay for the PubÂlic Domain Review, HartÂnell notes how these earÂly specÂiÂmens served “as a human table of conÂtents”, directÂing interÂestÂed parÂties to the speÂcifÂic pasÂsages in the varÂiÂous medÂical texts where inforÂmaÂtion on existÂing treatÂments could be found.

The proÂtoÂcol for injuries to the intestines or stomÂach called for stitchÂing the wound up with a fine thread and sprinÂkling it with an antiÂheÂmÂorÂrhagÂic powÂder made from wine, hematite, nutÂmeg, white frankÂinÂcense, gum araÂbic, bright red sap from the DraÂcaeÂna cinnabari tree and a restoraÂtive quanÂtiÂty of mumÂmy.
The Wound Man evolved along with medÂical knowlÂedge, weapons of warÂfare and art world trends.

The woodÂcut Wound Man in Hans von Gersdorff’s 1517 landÂmark FieldÂbook of Surgery introÂduces canÂnonÂballs to the ghastÂly mix.

And the engraver Robert White’s Wound Man in British surÂgeon John Browne’s 1678 ComÂpleat DisÂcourse of Wounds losÂes the loinÂcloth and grows his hair, morÂphÂing into a neoÂclasÂsiÂcal beauÂty in the Saint SebasÂtÂian mold.
SurÂgiÂcal knowlÂedge evenÂtuÂalÂly outÂpaced the Wound Man’s useÂfulÂness, but popÂuÂlar culÂture is far from ready for him to lay down and die, as eviÂdenced by recent cameos in episodes of HanÂniÂbal and the British comÂeÂdy quiz show, QI.



Delve into the hisÂtoÂry of the Wound Man in Jack HartÂnelÂl’s British Art StudÂies artiÂcle “WordÂing the Wound Man.”
RelatÂed ConÂtent
- Ayun HalÂlÂiÂday is the Chief PriÂmaÂtolÂoÂgist of the East VilÂlage Inky zine and author, most recentÂly, of CreÂative, Not Famous: The Small PotaÂto ManÂiÂfesto. FolÂlow her @AyunHalliday.












