"They are not dead books of a dead past."¹ George H. M. Lawrence's remark sheds light on an artifact valued beyond its yellowed pages and cracked leather binding: the Renaissance herbal. Defining an herbal as "a book on plants of real or alleged medicinal properties, which describes the appearance of those plants, and provides information on their medicinal importance and use," he goes on to mention that even today pharmacognosists look to these books in search of clues for possible medicines.² Yet the value of Renaissance herbals runs much deeper, for they offer a glimpse of a revolution in botanical study and highlight the resulting evolution of ways in which that study was expressed. Whether through printed word or printed image, herbals had the power to communicate about the natural world in such a way that, once it had emerged, evolved gradually over the course of the sixteenth century. This "foliation" and "maturation," if you will, of communication, as embodied in such examples as Otto Brunfels' Herbarum vivae eicones and John Gerard's Herball, relied not only on the technological advancement of the printing press but also on the individual and joint efforts of text and image. By tracing the gradual shift in these herbals from a pictorial to a more textual emphasis, it is possible to see both the significance of revolutionary changes in botany prior to the sixteenth century as well as the resulting trend in communication that can be witnessed even in today's modern herbals.

The emergence of printed herbals was a revolution in itself: unlike its medieval predecessor, Renaissance botany turned to a wealth of ancient knowledge as well as to an experience with living plants, integrating these two approaches with an innovative new method of communication, printing. Although a drive for medicinal knowledge formed the foundation for botanical studies during both the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, medieval scholars' emphasis on the inner, hidden qualities of plants reflected a dual quest for philosophical as well as medicinal enlightenment, whereas Renaissance plant study stressed a more external approach in which the identification of observable plant characteristics was key. No longer separating themselves from developments in botanical illustration, from books in monastic libraries, and from common people such as apothecaries and peasants who handled plants daily, Renaissance botanists changed their outlook on the study of plants, incorporating the wisdom of ancient authorities like Theophrastus, Pliny, Galen, Dioscorides along with an intimacy with live plant specimens. Yet, perhaps most revolutionary during this time was the contribution of printing, for now the teachings of botanists could spread more easily across Europe, allowing "the barbarous errors, ignorance, and neglect of the medieval schools [to be] overthrown, and [letting] true knowledge of herbs [be] restored to its ancient, rightful place in medicine and learning."³ This distribution of knowledge, unlike the isolation of botanical thought during medieval times, allowed Renaissance botanists to read about medicinal plants and gain an idea of what they looked like; crucial to changing botanical practice, this grater accessibility of more accurate information in Renaissance herbals allowed scholars to apply their knowledge directly to the plants they studied, thus paving the way for "the modern science of botany."⁴ So therefore, as global exploration and innovations like Galileo's telescope were expanding the boundaries of Europe, the advent of printing similarly was broadening the perceptions of Renaissance thinkers. In this case, however, it was not knowledge of land or stars that began to change; it was the study of plants that underwent a revolution.

In understanding the groundwork supporting the emergence of new botanical approaches, it is imperative that printing, perhaps most critical to their foundation, receive closer analysis. Agnes Arber's statement that "second only to the debt of botany to medicine, is its debt to certain branches of the arts, especially printing and wood-engraving" most definitely recognizes the significance of new technological improvements to the herbal.⁵ Yes, the printed herbal had the power to distribute botanical knowledge more widely and allowed scholars to apply that knowledge more constructively to the science of plants, yet it is the actual printing, not just its effects, that deserves more attention. Crucial to such an analysis is the idea that the emergences of printed words and printed images cannot be lumped together. Arber points out this fact quite bluntly: "the art of plant description, in its historical development, lagged conspicuously behind that of plant illustration."⁶ But what does this fact reveal about the botanical revolution? Plenty. It is in seeing printing as a dual effort of replicated text and image that it becomes possible to witness the evolution of herbals, particularly those of the sixteenth century, as an outgrowth of changing botanical approaches. Communication about the natural world largely depended on the type of printing applied, either textual or pictorial, for each had its own individual capabilities whether the herbal combined the two or not.

An analysis of Renaissance botanical illustration first demands attention, for it introduces an interesting perspective on the study of herbals. The illustrations in manuscript and early printed herbals showed a pattern of degeneration due to the copying of images without reference to live specimens, while botanical studies became more accurate during the late fifteenth century as a result of the more frequent use of real plants.7 The ability of the printed image to communicate, therefore, improved as a result of the botanical revolution; an herbal from the early sixteenth century most clearly emphasizes that change. The Herbarum vivae eicones, put together by Otto Brunfels and issued in 1530 by the Strasbourg publisher Johann Schott, is perhaps one of the finest examples of artistic achievement as it denotes the beginning of a new age of illustration.8 Whereas its written information is quite archaic, having been derived from the writings of Italian authors, Brunfels' herbal is otherwise known for its realistic illustrations provided by the celebrated draftsman and block cutter Hans Weiditz. His lovingly accurate drawings initiated a "real return to nature"9 and were true to the book's title (which translates as "Living Portraits of Plants"), for the artist, unlike his predecessors, depicted live specimens and even applied his keen observation to capturing the insect-damaged and withered qualities of imperfect plants.10 These illustrations, the "first botanical studies of the Renaissance that can hold a claim to being properly scientific in their concern for unmediated descriptive accuracy and completeness,"11 contrast markedly with the mostly borrowed descriptions that Brunfels compiled, allowing the herbal to communicate most effectively through printed image. The contradicting capabilities of image and text in Brunfel's herbal are quite evident in his entry on the borage plant. The first glimpse one has of "Borago" in the Herbarum vivae eicones is and incredibly realistic, full-page illustration of the herb. With keen accuracy Weiditz has captured what appears to be the living plant itself, for the carefully rendered blossoms, roots, and even the very hairs on its leaves make for an incredibly descriptive study. Therefore a simple perusal of the illustration alone offers a great deal of information without one's even turning to the text, for it gives the reader a mental image of the plant's physical structure and characteristics more clearly than words ever could, making borage more easily identifiable in nature. Yet it is in turning to the text that the main characteristic of Brunfels' herbal becomes apparent: it is obvious that "the pictorial tail wagged the textual dog."12 Although the description is unusually detailed in comparison to the texts of other entries, Brunfels' writing on borage is a mere accompaniment of the illustration, the majority of his information taken from Albertus Magnus' natural history from about 1250.13 Even though supported with other opinions from Pliny, Galen, and Dioscorides, it is obvious that the redundant and little observant text is the herbal's weakness. Arber notes that the amazing quality of Weiditz' wood blocks actually was an obstacle for Brunfels, for "the botanist found that the pencil of the draughtsman could represent every subtlety in the characteristic form of the plant in a way with which no 'word painting' could be complete."14 Thus the Herbarum vivae eicones communicated most successfully through visual means. In considering the relationship between image and text, and in understanding the evolving communication of the two, it is

necessary to flip to the other side of the coin: text, too, felt the dynamics of the botanical revolution. As printing broadened the audience for Renaissance herbals, many works were translated from Latin to the vernacular so that even the layman could learn about medicinal plants.¹⁵ But such change was only the beginning: as text dragged behind sixteenth-century illustrations, it began to develop a need to reinforce visual communication with written botanical facts. Although based on the wisdom of ancient authorities, text was in dire need of change: "the picturesque but vague and crude phytography, characteristic of the early herbals, had to pass through a long period of refining evolution before it could become an instrument of scientific precision."¹⁶ Obviously the recycled thoughts of previous scholars could no longer compete with the detailed images they accompanied, not to mention with the growing potentials of science. A need for keener, more descriptive observations therefore fueled a textual evolution in sixteenth-century herbals.

The Herball, or, Generall Historie of Plantes, compiled by John Gerard and issued in the year 1597, is certainly a prime result of that textual evolution. "Probably the most widely known botanical work ever published in Britain,"17 it is intriguing to note that the fame of this herbal and that of Brunfels rested on entirely different grounds. Whereas illustrations formed the backbone of the Herbarum vivae eicones, it was the text of Gerard's work that received, and continues to receive, the most praise. Marcus Woodward comments that the herbal's "glorious Elizabethan prose, the folk-lore steeping its pages, and all its quaint conceits about the 'Vertues' of herbs, are known by reputation the world over."18 Gerard's entry on borage certainly proves the veracity of this statement: unlike the Brunfels example in which a full-page illustration introduces the plant, Gerard's entry begins with a lengthy description of the physical characteristics of several plant varieties, later going into the growth period of borage, its various names, the temperature it prefers, as well as the "vertues," of healing properties, of the plant. Not only does Gerard's writing reveal much about borage, but it professes the author's love of plants and his signature style in writing about them; "I Borage bring always courage,"19 for instance, is a colorful addition to the information. It is therefore important to stress Gerard's role as a writer in order to understand the value of his herbal.

Less positive remarks can be said, however, of the 1,800 woodcuts that accompany the text in Gerard's Herball, for apparently only sixteen of them were original to the herbal,²⁰ while the others, acquired by the printer John Norton, were from a collection of woodcuts gathered from a myriad of previous herbals used by Tabernaemontanus (surprisingly enough a pupil of Brunfels!).²¹ Referring back to the borage example, it is interesting to note the secondary role that the illustrations play, for in this case three small woodcuts fill up only a portion of one page. Not only the illustrations, but also the originality of the herbal as a whole is also highly questionable, for it is believed that Gerard's work was largely a rearranged translation of Dodoens' Pemptades of 1583.²² The possibility of plagiarism certainly sullies Gerard's reputation as creator of the Herball, yet, when viewed more critically, even this aspect offers some intriguing thoughts to the concept of communication. In reference to the recycled images throughout the majority of the herbal, the issue of ownership comes into question: can realistic illustrations used in a certain work be claimed for that work only? In response to this question, Christian Egenolff, a Renaissance publisher, mentioned that "just as we cannot state that a particular herb has the opposite property from what it actually possesses simply in order to avoid copying someone else's text, neither can we insist upon an illustrator falsifying the facts for the sake of a copyright!"²³ What an interesting idea, for it stresses the belief that no one can own the truth, be it in pictorial or textual form. Perhaps Gerard's work is not an expression of plagiarism but simply a communication of botanical truths held in common at the end of the sixteenth century.

Yet even this concept of "truth" as expressed in the Herball is part of the evolution in botanical communication of Renaissance herbals. Since Gerard's illustrations were derived from more outdated sources, whereas his written data was a culmination of more recent developments in botanical thought, the truthfulness of his communication rests for the most part in his text. In addition, the author's introduction of several exotic species to European knowledge, enhanced by his unique flair for writing about them, really "gave an impetus to the study of botany such as no previous writer had accomplished."²⁴ Therefore, Gerard's work is a more successful expression of developments in text than it is one of botanical illustration. It demonstrates the maturation of evolving textual communication. The earlier Herbarum vivae eicones, on the other hand, is an example of a developed skill in illustration that emerged before the use of a more effective text. It shows the foliation of an effective pictorial communication that marked the beginning of a subsequent textual evolution. Basically, these two sixteenth-century herbals shifted from effective images and not as helpful text to more effective text and not as helpful images. Such an evolution reveals much about the herbals' abilities to communicate about the natural world.

Turn the pages of an antiquated herbal and discover: the cross examination of Brunfels' herbal with a later one illustrates nicely the idea that a test-image relationship formed the core of an ability to communicate about the biotic world during the sixteenth century. Yet this communication was an evolutionary process that resulted from a revolution in botanical study. As a revival of ancient knowledge, the use of live plant specimens, and the advent of printing reformed Renaissance botany, herbals and their abilities to communicate began to change, but in a more gradual manner. It seems plausible that this co-evolution of image and text, through the pressure that one put on the other, was possibly responsible for scientific advancements in the study of botany. For instance, it is likely that the gap that originally separated pictorial accuracy from less precise text provided motivation for the development of a systematic method of plant taxonomy.²⁵ Even the trend of the herbals' evolution, from an emphasis on image to one on text, is reflected in today's botanical records. For instance, the recently published The Honest Herbal by Varro E. Tyler involves text alone, incorporating observant descriptions that eliminate any need for illustrations; his detailed references to plant chemistry and composition reflect developments in technology that have aided in his descriptive analysis, making communication more scientifically accurate. In this case, the evolution of printed Renaissance herbals was key to the revolution in modern science. So finally, whether viewed as a result of botanical change during the Renaissance or as an explanation for the direction of modern botany, the foliation and maturation of communication that sixteenth-century herbals express is beyond question. Just harvest their leaves.

Bibliography

Anderson, Frank J. An Illustrated History of Herbals. New York: Columbia University Press, 1977.

Arber, Agnes. Herbals: Their Origin and Evolution, a Chapter in the History of Botany, 1470-1670. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986.

Gerard, John. The Herball, or, Generall Historie of Plantes. London: A. Islip, J. Norton, and R. Whitakers, 1633.

Gilmour, John. British Botanists. London: Clark and Sherwell Ltd., 1946.

Jackson, Benjamin D. Catalogue of Plants Cultivated in the Garden of John Gerard in the Years1596-1599. London: privately printed, 1876.

Landau, David and Peter Parshall. "Prints and Facts." In The Renaissance Print, 1470-1550. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994.

Lawrence, George H. M. "Herbals, Their History and Significance." In History of Botany. Los Angeles, CA: The Clark Memorial Library, 1965.

Reeds, Karen Meier. Botany in Medieval and Renaissance Universities. New York and London: Garland Publishing, Inc., 1991.

Woodward, Marcus. Gerard's Herball. London: Gerald Howe, 1927.

Other Helpful Sources

Hunt Botanical Library. Catalogue: A Selection of 20th Century Botanical Art and Illustration. Pittsburgh: The Hunt Botanical Library and Carnegie-Mellon University, 1969.

Kagan, Dick. "Portraits in Green." Art & Antiques, June 1998, 64-70.

Tyler, Varro E. The Honest Herbal: A Sensible Guide to the Use of Herbs and Related Remedies. New York: Pharmaceutical Products Press, 1993.