Finally we Anglophones have a reliable, competent translation of Dioscorides, called by G E R Lloyd perhaps the most important scientist in classical antiquity. In five books, Dioscorides' Materia medica summarizes more than 1,000 drugs of which at least 700 are botanicals. Over the last half century of delving into ancient and medieval medical lore, I often cringed when a modern writer quoted “Dioscorides” from the only previous English translation, that produced by John Goodyer some time between 1652 and 1655, but not published until 1934 (Oxford University Press), lightly edited by Robert T Gunther (reprinted in 1959 and 1971). Goodyer based his translation on a woeful edition (Frankfurt, 1598), which incorporated chapters not in Dioscorides' Greek text, adding the notha (synonym-lists) that had descended into the Renaissance alongside the text itself. Goodyer quite frequently replicated the Latin transliterations of Greek names for plants, thereby increasing confusion, in striking contrast to Dioscorides' careful precision. Now Lily Beck, a professional classicist who also knows her botany, has rendered Dioscorides accessible to anyone who reads good English. John Scarborough's introduction gathers the few biographical data on the talented author of the De materia medica, and is a valuable guide to contents, the history of the text, and Dioscorides' sources of information.

Dioscorides' writing style employs a paucity of words and is similar to modern science articles. He tells his readers to disregard style and pay attention to the content. He explains that, for each plant, he first read what the previous authorities had reported (often citing by name), then he travelled widely in a “military-like life”, observing the plants in their habitats, talking with the people about their experiences with drugs, and finally “testing” their actions himself. Only then did he have a fact he trusted, which could be related. Beck observes in her introduction that the text is mostly devoid of what we call magic and superstition. Where there were uses that he would not endorse, he prefaced them with words to distance himself, such as, “it is reported”, “they say”, and “it seems”. Even so, occasionally Dioscorides slipped, such as with the plant scilla: “ward[s] off evil when hung whole on front doors”. Beck's point withstanding, Dioscorides' keen talents were remarkable in observing the effect of natural drugs on humans (and occasionally animals). In our time when alternative medicine is receiving renewed interest, one should keep in mind that natural product drugs are the result of human experiences, mostly intelligent ones.

Each chapter begins with the Greek term in the Greek alphabet and, in the case of plants, followed by the binominal scientific name with the English term. For identifications, Beck used the standard authorities; when authorities disagree, she has notes, although modest in discussion. Translating ancient Greek medical terms is perilous: for example, is podagra exactly our gout?; is asthma our asthma? The list is extensive and, for this reason, medical researchers are still advised to consult the Greek terms' lexical ranges. Particularly difficult are Greek terms for dermal lesions. (Beck should be excused from the publisher's unfortunate spelling of “Anarzarbus” on the cover.)

Lily Beck employed Max Wellmann's critical text in three volumes published between 1906 and 1914 (reprinted 1958). Having seen most of the Greek manuscripts, I am of the opinion that, despite Wellmann's erudite scholarship, a new Greek text should be made, but even after it is, Beck will survive as the standard English translation. Before publication, Beck asked me to read her translation but, alas, I was unable to do so at the time and instead gave her a very small modicum of advice. Beck's translation embodies sensitivity to Dioscorides' meaning that even a classicist, who is reading the Greek, would want to consult. So, now the medical historians can toast Beck's work with a cup of herbal tea.