Rhétoriques de la modernité by Manuel Maria Carrilho. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1992; pp. 170. The Place of Emotion in Argument by Douglas Walton. University Park, PA: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 1992, xiv; 294 pp. Reasoning and the Logic of Things: The Cambridge Conferences Lectures of 1898 by Charles Sanders Peirce, edited by Kenneth Laine Ketner, with an introduction by Kenneth Laine Keiner and Hilary Putnam. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1992; xiv; 297pp. Criteria of Certainty: Truth and Judgment in the English Enlightenment by Kevin L. Cope. Lexington: The UP of Kentucky, 1990; viii; 224. Writing Ourselves Into the Story: Unheard Voices from Composition Studies by Sheryl I. Fontaine and Susan Hunter. Carbondale: Southern Illinois UP, 1993; pp. 383. Novelties in the Heavens: Rhetoric and Science in the Copernican Controversy, by Jean Dietz Moss. Chicago and London, University of Chicago Press, 1993. Preface xiv, 353 pp. The Book of Memory by Mary Carruthers.Cambridge, Cambridge UP, 1992; 393 pp.

Imitation has long been a method and theoretical basis for rhetorical instruction. It has also enjoyed a complex, if not always glorious, history-a lineage which extends from the apprenticeship of sophists in Plato's Greece to the moral education of orators in Quintilian's Rome; from the nurturing of abundant expression in a Renaissance text by Erasmus to the cultivation of taste in an Enlightenment text by Hugh Blair. In the last few decades, however, we have witnessed dramatic changes in how we look upon imitation-changes largely influenced, we think, by the process movement, with its various emphases on invention and revision, expression and discovery, cognition and collaboration. In the wake of shifting so much of our attention to writing processes, we might well expect imitation to have been pronounced as dead as Nietzche's God was a century ago. But if the literature reviewed here is any indication, rumors of imitation's death have been greatly exaggerated. Most of the studies in our survey are favorablyand surprisingly-disposed to imitation's continued practice. Such studies typically call for a revised understanding of imitation, a novel approach which reveals the proponent's understanding of the need to somehow demonstrate imitation's acceptability to a community which presumably resists its use. Why? Most likely because imitation turns on assumptions about writing and learning which many find discomforting, if not altogether objectionable. There are, of course, fairly complex historical, cultural, and theoretical reasons for our current aversion to imitation, many of which we explore later in our review. But the important point for us is that those who argue for imitation-however much they may differ in their various arguments-share an awareness that its use must be justified in answer to, and anticipation of, its critical refusal by the community at large. What we infer from this awareness is the community's largely tacit rejection of imitation. That's not to say, of course, that explicit criticism of imitation is wholly absent from the literature.' But in a context where many readily assent to the idea that almost any form of direct imitation leads to a distortion of the writing process, there is little urgency to speak against its use in the writing classroom (Judy and Judy 127). Indeed, only those who desire a reevaluation of imitation need

(1993). Selected bibliography: The concept of “author” in rhetoric/composition and literary theory. Rhetoric Society Quarterly: Vol. 23, No. 1, pp. 71-75.

Sixteenth-century English humanist educators claimed that their educational programs prepared students for civic life by providing not just technical training in language use, but a more important ethical and moral training. The present discussion is to examine this claim, particularly as it applies to the question of what might have been the role of imitation exercises informing students' ethical character. When one considers imitation pedagogy in the general context of humanist education and in the particular context of the reading method prescribed by Erasmus, one finds that such exercises served not only as means by which student writers might assimilate the characteristic style and habits of thinking of the models they choose, but, in fact, such exercises were tools for students' ethical indoctrination. Anthony Grafton and Lisa Jardine question whether humanist educators actually could have made good their claim to provide moral training or preparation for civic life (122). Examining the evidence available for the practices of humanist teachers, Grafton and Jardine contend that humanist education at its best was little more than training in Latin language skills. In support of their contention, Grafton and Jardine discuss the early fifteenth-century teaching practices of Guarino Guarini of Verona and the lectures of later Roman and Florentine rhetoricians, such as Buonaccorso Massari. By examining students' notes from such lectures, Grafton and Jardine conclude that the approach of these humanists to the classical texts was so unstructured and fraught with philological detail that students could not have been prepared by such education to confront larger questions concerning the attitudes and beliefs [which inform an entire text] either to endorse them, or to challenge them (58-67). To consider Grafton and Jardine's question as it applies to sixteenth-century English humanist educators' use of imitation pedagogy, one must first recall how the political conditions and religious strife of the English Renaissance affected the sort of education the English humanists advocated. Political and religious indoctrination became important aspects of sixteenth-century English humanist education even while such education retained the characteristic rhetorical nature of earlier Renaissance humanist education. According to William Bouwsma, early Renaissance Italian humanism was characterized by an emphasis on rhetoric, a cultural relativism, and an intellectual rejection of older conceptions of order, or cosmos. But northern European Renaissance culture of 1450 onwards was characteristically inclined to reassert intellectual order and authority as political, religious, and cultural forces of order (particularly the monarchies and the papacy) reasserted their power (422-431). In England, the Tudor monarchy began to assert first its political authority and later, with Henry VIII's break with Rome, its religious authority. Grafton and Jardine explain that at the same time it was left for northern European humanist educators, particularly Erasmus, to make humanism practicable in the classroom, to change philological method into pedagogical method. Fifteenth-century Italian humanists at Rome and Florence had lectured brilliantly, elucidating by philological method obscure classical texts

Rhetorical criticism, as it has developed over the past five decades or so, has taken on many agendas-for example, neo-Aristotelian criticism, movement studies, dramatistic criticism, genre criticism-all of which have been attempts to apply, reconstruct, or improve on a long tradition. What is striking about this body of critical literature is that none of it takes very seriously one of the paramount concerns of that tradition-namely, style. Indeed, a survey of the periodical literature shows that there persists a fundamental neglect of in both the theory and the practice of rhetorical criticism.1 Various theoretical and critical practices represented in this body of literature suggest that is a frustratingly elusive and amorphous creature, stubbornly resisting description. Most of the material does not venture much beyond theory and is, for the critic, consequently inadequate, for it falls short of a level of analysis that would reveal how rhetoric works. As a result, rhetorical criticism does not provide a useful critical approach to reading a discursive text. In one respect, this shows that some incisive remarks about the importance of in criticism and the neglect thereof which Donald Bryant made over thirty years ago have been either disregarded or forgotten. Moreover, I argue that both the interpretation of discourse (criticism) and the production of discourse (composition) can profit from careful attention to rhetorical style. For if, as Bryant2 has suggested, style is the final elaboration of meaning, then surely is the initial encounter through which auditors apprehend meaning. Does it not seem reasonable that ought play a major role in the critical act of the analysis of discourse? However, granting that has been neglected, I now must explain what I mean by style. To begin, Bryant has urged us to regard it not as the mere department of elocutio but that in dispositio and even inventio participate. Bryant argues: It is difficult at best to consider the functioning language of discourse without becoming involved at once with the ordering of the discourse. Furthermore, if we go beyond the static idea of disposition as arrangement, to the potentially dynamic idea of disposition as disposing, as Wagner thought necessary, we may conclude that for the critic the two names signify the two lenses for a stereopticon view of a

Metaphor and Reason in Judicial Opinions by Haig Bosmajian. Carbondale, IL: Southern Illinois University Press, 1992, 205 pp. The Context of Human Discourse: A Configurational Criticism of Rhetoric by Eugene E. White. Columbia, SC, University of South Carolina Press, 1992, vii‐ix, 307pp. Rhetoric, Hermeneutics and Translation in the Middle Ages: Academic Traditions and Vernacular Texts by Rita Copeland.Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1991; 295pp. Terms of Response: Language and Audience in Seventeenth‐ and Eighteenth‐Century Theory by Robert L. Montgomery. University Park, PA: The Pennsylvania State UP, 1992; 216. The Discipline of Taste and Feeling by Charles Wegener. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1992. Robert M. La Follette Sr., The Voice of Conscience by Carl R. Burgchardt. New York, Greenwood Press, 1992, viii + 243 pp.

First, I'd like to offer analysis of Halasek's and Bernard-Donals' utterances, but it may also be taken as rhetorical or tendentious characterization of them. If we begin with the two points of reference provided by our session's title, and Rhetorical Criticism, I think we can say that Halasek identifies herself as rhetorical critic or theorist who belongs to community of like-minded rhetorical critics and theorists, one that together poststructuralist thought, social constructivism, and writing and pedagogy. For them Bakhtin's vilification of is problem and his alternative rhetorical tradition is an opportunity. Halasek can summarize the Bakhtin attacks and distance herself from it as a definition of that is not ours and she can appropriate as much more congenial to herself and her fellow rhetoricians the rhetorical tradition of oppositional genres and discourse moves with which Bakhtin identifies the novel. She imagines Bakhtin's hostility to as consequence of his hostility to the official languages of Russia during his lifetime and imagines herself and her colleagues as also opposed to a of oppression but apparently not confronted with similar authoritarian political situation. Instead of identifying herself exclusively with parodic rhetoric opposed to an official monologic she posits dialogic rhetoric which can contemplate the tensions between polemic and rhetorics in the professional and pedagogical tasks of textual and cultural analysis. Bakhtin offers her better way of doing what rhetorical critics were already doing. Halasek welcomes Bakhtin's tension-filled genres and joyful relativity in prose that is relatively free from tension and clear about where it stands. She can separate Bakhtin's vilification of from his celebration of it, choose one side over the other, and even explain away Bakhtin's adherence to the side she rejects as function of his particular historical situation. She is at home with the listeners she posits and brings them Bakhtin they can use without having to change their minds about or politics. Bemard-Donals, on the other hand, writes tension-filled and ambivalent prose in the name of escaping from relativism and uncertainty. He is not at one with what he takes to be the community of contemporary rhetorical but sees it as plagued by the collapse of distinction between science and that he somehow wants to reassert He persists in commitment to theory or science or dialectic or history that he believes rhetorical critics like Fish and Rorty have subsumed under rhetoric, and he turns to Bakhtin not to assimilate him to the consensus in current rhetorical but to find way out of the impasse of current rhetorical theory. The Bakhtin he needs for his purposes is not the celebrant of parody and joyful relativity but the theorist of the socially constituted subject who can provide rhetorical criticism with scientific model for understanding how subjects are formed in language. In effect, he wants to substitute Bakhtin's sociolinguistics of the subject for the psychology of the subject Plato calls for in the Phaedrus as the scientific foundation for that could then know, as he put it in his

Rhetoric in the European Tradition by Thomas M. Conley. New York: Longman, 1990. pp. ix + 325.

(Inter)views: Cross‐Disciplinary Perspectives on Rhetoric and Literacy edited by Gary A. Olson and Irene Gale, with an introduction by David Bleich.Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1991. 269 pp. Rhetorical Questions: Studies of Public Discourse by Edwin Black. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992; 209 pp. $24.95 cloth. An Introduction to Composition Studies,> edited by Erika Lindemann and Gary Tate. New York: Oxford University Press, 1991. Pp. 189. Methods and Methodology in Composition Research ed. Gesa Kirsch and Patricia A. Sullivan. Carbondale, IL: Southern Illinois U P, 1992; ix+354. John Donne and the Rhetorics of Renaissance Discourse by James S. Baumlin.Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 1991; 333 pages. Richard McKeon: A Study by George Kimball Plochmann.Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1990; vi + 260pp. The Selected Writings of John Witherspoon ed. By Thomas Miller. Carbondale: Southern Illinois UP, 1990. 318.

Two admissions in Hugh Blair's Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres seem peculiar in relation to his own rhetorical practice. One is his observation in Lecture 25 that it is debate in popular assemblies, rather than the pulpit, which provides the illustrious field for the highest kind of eloquence. The other, not so striking in itself, but somewhat so in relation to Blair's own choice of rhetorical strategies as a preacher, is his judgment in Lecture 26, and again in Lecture 29, that among modern divines, it is French preachers rather than English who most nearly approach the ideal of true eloquence. There are repeated indications in the middle parts of Blair's Lectures that he accepts the Ciceronian view that the truest eloquence is strongly pathetic in the sense of vigorously arousing the more violent and more perturbing emotions. This highest degree of eloquence he characterizes in Lecture 25 as eloquence

In the summer of 1763, James Boswell witnessed Quaker woman speaking to her Sunday gathering. Shortly thereafter, Boswell remarked on the event to Samuel Johnson. Sir, Dr. Johnson replied, a woman's preaching is like dog's walking on its hinder legs. It is not done well, but you are surprised to find it done at all.' Johnson's comment expresses two significant features of early modem rhetorical practice: women's public address was rare, and it was widely considered an affront to conventions of cultural discourse. Neither comes as surprise for those familiar with eighteenth-century public life; but they do serve as prompts to the question: How and to what effect was women's speech portrayed in this period? In searching for answers, we are led back toward the modem origins of rhetoric's historical association with misogyny. I examine in this essay popular representations of women as speakers in the eighteenth-century. Surveying prominent journals, reviews, newspapers, and magazines, we can better understand how rhetorical conventions help to condition audiences and habituate responses. One such rhetorical convention-misogynist satire-is here examined as force in shaping attitudes toward women as speakers. My interest is not so much in the formal properties of satire-though we must reckon with rhetorical form-but more in convention and content as modes of insinuation. satiric portrayal of women by men in eighteenth-century England may be grouped for synoptic purposes according to two general characterizations: (1) Womens's speech is perverse, and (2) it is meaningless. Subsidiary associations interlard this body of satiric literature, including images of violence, victimage, and absurdity. Together, these satiric representations help to establish patterns of reception, habits of perceiving women's speech as naturally aberrant. Insofar as such images of women's speech were promoted in popular and pejorative terms, we may accord to the eighteenth-century male satirists significant role in shaping modern attitudes about women and speech. My analysis thus enters into the arc of rhetorical action where production and praxis meet-that is, at the point where misogynist convention and audience inclination touch. I hope to thereby establish the destructive force of such satire, and to show that it functioned to withhold from women incentives to public address. This study, then, takes as its point of departure Felicity Nussbaum's observation on eighteenth-century discursive practices. The context of antifeminist satires, she writes, creates myth of assumptions that resonate in the satirists's minds. Women, as the violator of the authority of her contractural bonds to the patriarchical order, dares to disdain that authority in the Restoration

Rereading the Sophists: Classical Rhetoric Refigured by Susan C. Jarratt. Southern Illinois University Press, 1991; pp. xxvi + 154.

(1992). Justice, sacrifice, and the universal audience: George Bush's “address to the nation announcing allied military action in the Persian Gulf”. Rhetoric Society Quarterly: Vol. 22, No. 2, pp. 39-50.

Voice of Deliverance: The Language of Martin Luther King Jr. and its Sources by Keith D. Miller. New York: The Free Press, 1992. 247 pp. +. Rhetorical Thought in John Henry Newman by Walter Jost. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1989. The Contemporary Reception of Classical Rhetoric: Appropriations of Ancient Discourse by Kathleen E. Welch. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, 1990; pp. viii + 186. Constructing Rhetorical Education, edited by Marie Secor and Davida Charney. Carbondale: Southern Illinois UP, 1992; pp. 432 + Preface, Index. Truth and Convention in the Middle Ages: Rhetoric, Representation and Reality by Ruth Morse. Cambridge University Press, 1991. Pp.ii + 295.

(1992). Legitimating leadership: The rhetoric of succession as a genre of presidential discourse. Rhetoric Society Quarterly: Vol. 22, No. 2, pp. 25-38.

readers a philosophical endorsement of rhetoric, an argument for narrative, a hypotactical defense of parataxis, and a serious discussion of playfulness. The one exception to this cryptodialectical commentary is Jarratt's second chapter. There she skillfully avoids the binary trope of mythos-logos, rejects convincingly the logic of linear historical progress, and demonstrates nicely how the sophistical affinity for nomos shifts our attention from a questionable and outdated dichotomy to a field large enough to include both binary terms and meaningful enough to transcend their differences. Dismissing neither mythos nor logos, nomos appropriates both, and in so doing invents something other that problematizes the already familiar. Unfortunately, the story of nomos is only half of a larger sophistical story. The other, opposing half, the story of physis, finds itself associated only with the philosophers. Insofar as Antiphon's and Hippias' arguments for physis support part of her agenda, this omission or misassociation is all the more perplexing. In the 1850's George Grote observed that the sophists were the mainstream intellectuals in their culture and Plato an eccentric reformer. True, many historians of philosophy reversed this historical reality, making Plato the intellectual king and the sophists his unworthy subjects. Now Jarratt urges historians of rhetoric to give the sophists, women, and teachers of English composition a more prominent role in the new histories of rhetoric. Recent works by Vickers, Conley, and Bizzell are already doing what she is urging. If Jarratt is looking for more recognition as a historian of rhetoric, a feminist intellectual, and a teacher of college composition, she has a great deal more support than she may realize.

(1992). A historicist recontextualization of the enthymeme. Rhetoric Society Quarterly: Vol. 22, No. 2, pp. 1-24.

Almost all modern historians of rhetoric have undertaken to separate the men from the boys. But while rhetoric itself was talked about among men, it was to boys, and the handbooks that we have inherited-as well as most of those that we have lost-were intended for the instruction of the young. Feminist objections to classical rhetoric as been conducted among men-not women are consonant with this analysis, but I wish to emphasize here the ageism and academic self-hatred that we support when we accept the suppression of the pedagogical aspects of the history of our profession.' The dismissal of earlier pedagogical textbooks by both traditional and revisionist historians of rhetoric seems to me to be part of post-romantic unteachability topos, which assumes that what is most important about education is what least resembles the classroom.2 This topos is reinforced by more recent one that can be equally debilitating: the fear of teaching topos, in which having taught becomes synonymous with having oppressed.3 We can see their suppression of the pedagogical focus of classical rhetoric in the choice of rhetoric texts from earlier eras that traditional historians elevate to authoritative status. At one extreme is the modern canonization of Aristotle's Rhetoric, text that was never popular as pedagogical treatise in the ancient world, and at the other the rejection of Cicero's De invenltione and the Pseudo-Ciceronian Rhetorica ad Herenniurn. two rhetoric handbooks widely used in schools for hundreds of years. It is to the credit of traditional historians of rhetoric who are attempting to reclaim classical rhetoric as viable and important pedagogical alternative that they have been affected by this prejudice against pedagogy more in what they say than in what they do. Corbett's Handbook of Classical Rhetoric, for example, lavishly praises Aristotle's Rhetoric but, as the title reveals, presents its pedagogical material in fashion much closer to that of the Ciceronian tradition. Thomas Sloane, making passionate appeal in College English for the reclaiming of Ciceronian invention, dismisses De inventione as a famous and regrettably enduring handbook (462) before proceeding to extrapolate pedagogical content readily available in De invenhtione from the more diffuse and less pedagogically relevant De oratore.4

(1992). Understanding differently: Re‐reading Locke's essay concerning human understanding. Rhetoric Society Quarterly: Vol. 22, Feminist Rereadings in the History of Rhetoric, pp. 75-90.

(1992). Plato's feminine: Appropriation, impersonation, and metaphorical polemic. Rhetoric Society Quarterly: Vol. 22, Feminist Rereadings in the History of Rhetoric, pp. 109-123.

Erasmus uses female persona, named Folly, to deliver his written mock-encomium The Praise of Folly, published in 1511. Critics have taken little note of her gender, however. Walter Kaiser compares her briefly to Mother Nature (94-95), while still associating her fertility connotations with the phallus. Thomas 0. Sloane refers to her in passing as a kind of muse or other traditionally female and therefore nonrational spirit (67). It does seem somewhat anachronistic and historiographically to dwell on her gender, since, as Sloane notes, female personae were common in Renaissance written orations and dialogues, and they can be traced back through medieval and classical avatars. Female fools were not uncommon, either; William Willeford suggests that Erasmus's is derived from the fool named Mother Folly who figured prominently in carnivals of the late medieval and early Renaissance periods (177). But when I read The Praise of Folly, I can't take the persona's gender for granted, especially as she's depicted in Holbein's illustrations for an early edition of the Praise: woman in fool's cap and bells and an academic gown, speaking from rostrum to an audience of men similarly attired (see Moriae 1989). I became fascinated by this image of while doing research on Erasmus for Bruce Herzberg's and my recent anthology, The Rhetorical Tradition (1990). I couldn't figure out how to get my improper interest in the female persona into this book, however, because an anthology, while of course enacting an ideological agenda through its inclusions and exclusions, must pretend that its choices are not tendentious, that they always rely on arguments already made. Foregrounding in the anthology seemed to go too far in the direction of violation of these constraints of the anthology genre-or at least, so I was informed by my co-author and many of the readers thanked in our Preface, so I bowed to consensus. Now, however, I would like to elaborate the argument I wished had already been made, view that unabashedly articulates Erasmus and with postmodern feminist concerns. I'd like to explore the possibility that the persona of the female fool may have interesting implications for post-modern rhetors, particularly those of us who wish to espouse left-oriented or liberatory political values. My paper, therefore, will have two parts. First, I will consider the implications of Folly's gender as an aid to interpreting Erasmus's mock-encomium, notoriously difficult text. In the process of explaining the interpretive problems in The Praise of Folly, I will provide sort of anatomy of skepticism which, I believe, has bearing on the post-modern situation. Then in the second part, I will try to explain my fascination with The Praise of in terms of problems confronting contemporary rhetorical studies. The problem in which I am particularly interested is that of finding compelling version of rhetorical authority from which to speak on behalf of oppressed groups in spite of the

(1992). Rhetoric, possibility, and women's status in ancient Athens: Gorgias' and Isocrates' encomiums of Helen. Rhetoric Society Quarterly: Vol. 22, Feminist Rereadings in the History of Rhetoric, pp. 99-108.

Abstract Nineteenth‐Century Rhetoric in North America by Nan Johnson. Carbondale: Southern Illinois UP, 1991. 313. Protagoras and Logos: A Study in Greek Philosophy and Rhetoric by Edward Schiappa. Columbia, South Carolina: University of South Carolina Press, 1991. xvii + 239. Rhetoric and Irony, Western Literacy and Western Lies by C. Jan Swearingen. New York: Oxford University Press, 1991; xiv + 323. Democracy and the Mass Media: A Collection of Essays ed. Judith Lichtenberg. New York: Cambridge UP, 1990; 410. The Rhetoric of Reaction: Perversity, Futility, Jeopardy by Albert O. Hirschman. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1991, pp. xi+197.

I am about to argue for strengthening place of in teaching of writing. Recent work in and composition is already studded with appeals to and to philosophers, and such appeals have been made for many different purposes. My own reason for pursuing in this context is for purpose of setting up productive conflict among terms philosophy, politics and rhetoric. Although part of way I measure productiveness of this conflict is by its ability to reveal interdependence of terms, I intend more specifically to argue for as way of responding to-and to some degree resisting-the inevitable politicizing of teaching of writing. Consequently my appeal to differs in purpose from Ann Berthoff's famous appeal to as study which enables us to understand relationship between, in Richards' terms, what is said and what is meant, or, in Berthoff's own words, the nexus of hermeneutics and semiotics (Counter-Response 84). This account of is strongly slanted by orientation of literary critic-to point where a of knowledge becomes equivalent to a theory of imagination (Forming 6). Berthoff puts this theoretical commitment to work in pedagogy that uses classroom as philosophic laboratory in which teachers teach students how to form by teaching them that they form (2). I share John Schilb's concern that this formulation won't be able to help clarify relation of philosophy and rhetoric (67-68) in any useful way. More to point, I also share Schilb's belief that understanding of relation of and can be enlivened by consideration of how politics can serve

James Burnett, Lord Monboddo (1714-1799) enjoyed considerable recognition as a Scottish advocate and judge; however, a passion for the ancient Greeks occupied much of his attention and contributed to his lasting reputation as a man of letters. It is likely that his initial exposure to the Greek philosophers was under the tutelage of Dr. Francis Skene, a classical scholar who worked early in his career as Burnett's private tutor and then became a professor of philosophy at Marischal College where Burnett was a student. Burnett found ancient doctrines to be appealing because of their attention to first principles and he remained a devoted advocate of Greek thinking throughout his life.' Monboddo's views on the ancients and their significance for the Scottish Enlightenment are best preserved in two lengthy works. Origin and Progress of Language (1774-92) consists of six volumes and is best known to students of composition, rhetoric, and criticism for its defense of Greek literary style in general; its efforts to apply ancient doctrines of style, logic and composition to the needs of the Scottish Enlightenment; and its praise of Aristotle in particular as the philosopher who bridged the gulf separating the sophists and Plato. Ancient Metaphysics (1779-99), also six volumes, was Monboddo's second contribution to the world of letters and further proclaimed his admiration for the Greeks and his distaste for alternative schools of thought that had become popular among his contemporaries.2 By the latter years of the Eighteenth Century, Aristotle and other Greek rhetors were largely ignored by British rhetorical theorists. Even among those exponents of a classical doctrine early in the century, including John Ward (A System of Oratory, 1759) and John Holmes (The Art of Rhetoric Made Easy, 1755), it was the Roman model of rhetoric, organized around Cicero's officia that was popular. By mid-century, even Roman doctrine had been obscured by the rhetorics, reflecting new assumptions and organizing doctrine along three new lines. The psychological school, most clearly illustrated by George Campbell's Philosophy of Rhetoric (1776), was influenced by Baconian and Lockean thinking. These theorists, using the Baconian empirical method, explored relationships between thought and expression, creating an array of new terms to account for mental processes that govern rhetorical acts.3

The Rhetoric of Science by Alan G. Gross. Harvard UP, 1990; pp. vi +248

(1991). When words gain their meanings: Turning politics into law and back again in rhetoric—and what can happen when the word for law is literature. Rhetoric Society Quarterly: Vol. 21, No. 3, pp. 22-37.

Perhaps fullest expression of contrast between as a set of rules or as a bureaucratic system and as literature or rhetoric or language' is work of James Boyd White. In a series of books and articles, White has explored a cultural critique of by considering life of to be a kind of discourse that engenders a special kind of ethical and political community.2 While my main intent is critique, I want to begin by celebrating position that underlies what White calls literary or rhetorical character of law: fundamental recognitions that shapes perception and directs action, and that texts create communities. In White's words, law constitutes a world of meaning and action: creates a set of actors and speakers and offers them possibilities for meaningful speech and action that would not otherwise exist; in so doing establishes and maintains a community, defined by its processes of language (White 1990, xiv). While Professor White has been object of a variety of criticisms, I will focus on two criticisms that accept position that is fundamentally discursive, while expressing concerns about White's conception of role of power in communication. First is position represented eloquently by late Robert Cover-that, while is integrally interpretive, differs fundamentally from other interpretive activities because law, unlike literature or poetry or drama, is necessarily coercive.3 Since interpretation takes place in a field of pain and death, wrote Cover, its texts must attend to the conditions of effective domination (Cover 1986, 1601). Even violence of weak judges is utterly real-a naive but immediate reality, in need of no interpretation, no critic to reveal it (1609). A second, related, critique is that White's vision of community is insufficiently attentive to operation of law's ideological power. The problem is not that White ignores power or that, as Richard Posner would seem to have it, literature is but a sidelight to real operations of and legal institutions (Posner 1988). As White notes, whoever controls our languages has greatest power of all (1988, 747). His reaction has been to offer new ways to read and to write of power. My concern is that he does not account for resistance to change that is built into social form and social practice of legal discourse. Linguistic practices run deep;

James Boyd White in Heracles' Bow: Essays on the Rhetoric and Poetics of the explains one of his uses of the term rhetoric, of which, he contends, the language of law is species (33): A judge's or lawyer's language, he notes, is argumentatively constitutive of the language it employs; such language is not only instrumental in arguing but announces, in effect, Here in this language is the way this and similar cases should be talked (34). Legal professionals thus shape language behavior; the dynamics of such processes and similar ones are the objects of White's attention and analysis in the several studies included in Heracles' Bow and in When Words Lose Their Meaning. White's analyses of the rhetorical nature of the law embody detailed suggestions which, if realized, could work positive influences. He frequently makes statements like the following: Law should take as its most central question what kind of we should be, with what values, motives, and aims (42). Indeed, in White's thinking, law and rhetoric are to be seen as linked in broad shaping process, one which promises to build a of certain sort, set of shared relations, attitudes, and meanings. To view law as rhetoric might enable us to attend to the spiritual or meaningful side of our collective life (42-43). The points made by White in his essays embody praiseworthy aims; in the present essay, I will illuminate one type of aim in exploring White's claims concerning law and rhetoric operating in communities of certain sort, those of the U. S. Constitution. When Words Lose Their Meaning presents the legal and epistemological basis for the communities of the Constitution in reading of Justice John Marshall's Supreme Court decision of McCulloch v. Maryland. This decision, White contends, activated the inert Constitution of the United States and, in effect, exercised reconstitution of culture and community (247). The issues he treats are complex and of interest to rhetoricians. The discussion here will emphasize U. S. Constitution that establishes variety of communities engaged in rhetorical practices. The variety occurs along with number of benefits, because the Constitution's communicants are invited to act in most cases while free of specifications and directives. Such an invitation leaves room for communicator to consider specific circumstances, to engage in the activity Aristotle designated in terms of blank paradigm, that is, to find the available means of persuasion in given case (7). White in his confrontation of several paradoxical issues suggested by McCulloch v. Maryland raises the sorts of questions which he asks in his other essays, questions about communities and the nature of the texts with which they are associated. He is interested in the boundaries, strengths and limitations of the Constitution and of the nature of its rhetorical communities.

The verb in the title of James B. White's When Words Lose Their Meaning directs attention to one direction of change, decay. White takes for his emblem the passage from Thucydides from which derives his title, as defining a topic and suggesting a view of life that directs attention to the relation between language, on the one hand, and both the individual self and collective life on the (1961-62). That direction of change that is the focus of attention resembles the plot Alasdair MacIntyre recounts in After Virtue and elsewhere, in which virtues become vices, arts become skills, goods become commodities, and practices and norms lose their intelligibility.1 Neither White nor MacIntyre offers a narrative of the opposite direction of change, in which words and deeds gain, or regain, meaning. Because of this emphasis on decline, each is a conservative, although not necessarily politically conservative, since in each while the processes of corruption are detailed innovative and fructifying forces by contrast appear beyond explanation as heroic. The absence of stories in which meaning and community increase does not mean that each thinks that the world has moved away from a golden age and is going to the dogs, although I see each often misread in that way. It simply means that there is an intelligible plot to decline, but not to advances. Advances happen, but there is no pattern to them. It takes, in White's accounts, someone of the status of Thucydides or James Madison, beyond rational planning, to make words gain meaning, and Aquinas occupies a similar place in MacIntyre's story. The exemplary performances of great literary texts, including great legal literary texts, constitute White's account of how words gain their meaning. There is no overall narrative pattern or story in which these exempla live, while the story of decline has a plot, contains explanatory forces, and all the other rhetorical devices that make it appear more intelligible than the story of how words gain their meaning. We can learn how words gain meaning from exempla, although not necessarily learn to imitate them, and we can learn about decline and fall through generalizations and narratives. The patterns of decline make it possible to fight against those forces, while there are no programs for creativity. Exemplary and causal history are both reasonable ways of talking about and learning from the past, but their co-

This essay examines James Boyd White's analysis of legal discourse from the perspective of legal and cultural critic. We commend his observation that jurists have done poor job of communicating their decisions to both legal practitioners and the public community. We ask, however, how his art of translation as constitutes ethical and political communities enabling writers and readers of what White characterizes as law's most central text, the judicial opinion, to participate more constructively the creation of a world of meaning. We have focused our analysis on White's Justice as Translation.' Our focus is appropriate because this essay is the developmental sequel to When Words Lose Their Meaning2 which White announced his method of rhetorical and cultural criticism. His is method for analyzing legal texts systematically to illuminate the meaning of justice and injustice in the relations we establish with our languages and with each other.3 We argue that the forms of discourse addressed to or issued from courts the United States define distinct (in White's terms) of argument. White contributes an approach to this culture which is particularly useful to those extra-legal critics who participate the construction of the meaning of judicial opinion through thoughtful reading, but which provides little guidance to those involved the creation of those texts.4 While we accept that legal discourse is distinct culture of argument with characteristics common with other cultures of argument, including literary

Oral and Written Communication: Historical Approaches. Edited by Richard Leo Enos. Newbury Park, CA: Sage, 1990. Pp.vi + 264. Aristotle, On Rhetoric: A Theory of Civic Discourse. Newly Translated, with Introduction, Notes and Appendices by George Kennedy. New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991, xvi + 335 pp. Writing Biology: Texts in the Social Construction of Scientific Knowledge by Greg Meyers. Madison: Wisconsin UP, 1990. Ethics in Human Communication by Richard L. Johannesen. 3rd Edition. Waveland Press, 1990. Voices of the Mind: A Sociocultural Approach to Mediated Action by James V. Wertsch. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1991. 147 pp. + references and name and subject index. Thomas Henry Huxley: Communicating for Science by J. Vernon Jensen. Newark: University of Delaware, 1991. Pp. 253. The Rhetorical Turn: Invention and Persuasion in the Conduct of Inquiry. Edited by Herbert W. Simons. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1990. Pp. xii + 388.

The Present State of Scholarship in Historical and Contemporary Rhetoric, edited by Winifred Bryan Horner. Rev. ed. Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 1990; pp. x + 260.

A Short History of Writing Instruction from Ancient Greece to Twentieth‐Century America. Edited by James J. Murphy. Davis: Hermagoras Press, 1990; pp. i‐iv + 241. The Origins of Rhetoric in Ancient Greece by Thomas Cole. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press. 1991; pp. xiv +191. Deeds Done in Words: Presidential Rhetoric and the Genres of Governance by Karlyn Kohrs Campbell and Kathleen Hall Jamieson. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1990; pp. ix + 275. Democratic Eloquence: The Fight Over Popular Speech in Nineteenth‐Century America by Kenneth Cmiel. New York: William Morrow and Company, 1990; pp. 351. Presidential Debates: The Challenge of Creating an Informed Electorate by Kathleen Hall Jamieson and David S. Birdsell. New York: Oxford University Press, 1988; pp. x + 264. Rhetoric and the New Testament by Burton L. Mack. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1990; pp. 110.

Commentators have interpreted Richard M. Weaver's philosophy of rhetoric and culture from variety of perspectives, each of which captures some important aspect of Weaver's project. He has been analyzed, for instance, as an advocate of political conservatism, as inheritor of Southern Agrarian beliefs, as defender of Old South principles and contributions, as cultural critic, as rhetorical theorist, and as teacher of rhetoric.' I, and others, have characterized him as Platonic idealist.2 In opposition to this latter characterization, Charles Follette argues in his dissertation a fundamentally Christian vision constitutes the real core of Weaver's work.3 Upon reconsideration I now would modify my earlier position and take more literally and seriously Weaver's self-characterization in 1948. In making perfectly clear the premises from which he starts and the grounds of his argument, Weaver declares his willingness to be identified with those thinkers in the Platonic-Christian tradition who believe that form is prior to substance, and ideas are determinants.4 I believe the hyphen in Platonic-Christian is important as clue and guide throughout his works. His philosophical assumptions and world view stem from an emergent heritage and reflect synthesis of the two traditions. Elsewhere I have demonstrated at length the ways in which Weaver's descriptions of idealist assumptions routinely reflect Platonic idealism.5 And to

As with On the Origin of Species, we find that the work to be considered here-The Structure and Distribution of Coral Reefs-demonstrates Darwin's use of hedges to project the ethos of a cautious scientist. Hedges are linguistic elements such as perhaps, might, to a certain degree, or it is possible that. When people use hedges, they signal that they are taking a cautious stance on the truth-value of the referential matter they seek to convey. Hedges are a type of metadiscourse, a level of writing in which authors draw attention to the very art of writing itself-they discourse about their discourse (Crismore, Talking to Readers). This metadiscursive trait, however, represents only one aspect of Darwin's rhetoric. In Coral Reefs, he sculpts a key chapter into a Ciceronian form so pure that one might have to return to the Renaissance to find a parallel, and within this larger form, he strategically places hedges and other metadiscourse. He, further, employs visuals (drawings, diagrams, and maps) for persuasion at those points were the tension between his audiences preconceptions and the new theory being presented threatens to reach a dangerous level. The visuals and the metadiscursive commentary about them, also, help to establish his ethos and to build the argument for his theory of coral reefs. These elements, so perfectly embodied in Coral Reefs, were the rhetorical tools of an extremely sophisticated scientific mind which has much to pass down to our own conception of scientific writing. All too many of today's professional, academic, and textbook writers view exposition of findings as being all that is needed-and other parts of the written document, including visuals, can be handled even more perfunctorily: facts by themselves are enough, after all, according to this view. Darwin, however, believed that bald facts and blunt explanations were insufficient, as he clearly indicates in his A utobiography. There, he writes that in Origin he had first presented a short and rather vague discussion of his own innovative idea in the area of embryology. Later, other scientists got the for the new idea. Darwin felt no bitterness, for he knew that the fault had been his alone and that this fault was a rhetorical one: I failed to impress my readers; and he who succeeds in doing so deserves, in my opinion, all the credit (Barlow 125). Facts and blunt explanations were not enough-rhetorical strategies were needed to impress the reader-even (and we have some reason to say especially) professional scientists. Since, even granting the A utobiography, there will always remain a question about the precise nature of the intended audience for Origin, and since, moreover, a cloud of non-scientific, anachronistic controversy hangs over its theory of natural selection, we have turned to Darwin's work on coral reefs: this work was unquestionably intended for the professional scientists, and yet it also, like Origin, sets forth a theory that involves a historical development measured in geological time. Coral Reefs has, we think, some

(1991). Frederick Douglass and the attention shift. Rhetoric Society Quarterly: Vol. 21, No. 2, pp. 36-46.

(1991). Isocrates and Plato on rhetoric and rhetorical education. Rhetoric Society Quarterly: Vol. 21, No. 1, pp. 60-71.

Selected Essays of Edward P.J. Corbett. Edited by Robert J. Connors. Dallas: Southern Illinois University Press. 1989. 359 pp. James L. Golden and Edward P.J. Corbett, eds. The Rhetoric of Blair, Campbell, and Whately: With Updated Bibliographies. Carbondale and Edwardsville: Southern Illinois University Press, 1990. Pp. xi & 399. Mullan, John. Sentiment and Sociability: The Language of Feeling in the Eighteenth Century. Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1988. 240 pp. + bibliography and index.

The alleged death of rhetoric in nineteenth century, so often cited by historians of discipline, has always seemed paradoxical to Victorian scholars familiar with social conflicts of that century and volumes of deliberative discourse to which they gave rise. These comments on demise of rhetoric generally construe it as an academic discipline or as use of stylistic devices-definitions which have so limited research that Donald C. Stewart remarked in 1983 that the most notable feature of scholarship in nineteenth-century rhetoric is its relative absence (153).1 However, recent studies by James Berlin and Susan Jarratt have broadened investigation of rhetoric's history to include discussions of relationship between language, knowledge, and society.2 Jarratt's proposed revisionary history would investigate implicit theories of rhetoric in any texts which explore relation of knowledge to language as well as roles of community and authority in establishing truth and prescribing ethical behavior (Toward 11-14; Naming). In this essay, I wish to trace a theory of rhetoric and its ideological implications in work of Victorian prophet Thomas Carlyle.3 When estrangement between upper and lower classes caused by rise of capitalism became central subject of deliberative discourse, Carlyle gained a large readership through his incisive social criticism.4 His writing influenced an entire generation which included John Stuart Mill, Charles

(1991). Aristotle and the stasis theory: A reexamination. Rhetoric Society Quarterly: Vol. 21, No. 1, pp. 53-59.

(1991). Reforms of style: St. Augustine and the seventeenth century. Rhetoric Society Quarterly: Vol. 21, No. 1, pp. 26-37.

I would like to begin concretely, and the measure of my success in this paper will be the reader's assent to the rhetorical need for me to work in just some such manner as I've chosen. Consider how, at first glance (and for some time thereafter), Wayne Booth impresses one not so much as a single Booth than as a complex field of Booths: teacher, dean, member of university and national seminars-colloquiacommittees uncountable, MLA President, visiting lecturer, author of works on fiction, criticism, film, education, irony, rhetoric, ethics, religion, teaching . .1 In a recent address Booth calls himself a rhetorician, and in his most recent book a generalist (a closer look reveals to the initiate that for Booth these mean the same thing), but a set of questions will have occurred to the thoughtful Booth reader long before: is there a center to this widening (or at least fluctuating) gyre, is there some doctrine, activity, character, that pulls these pursuits together? Is calling oneself a generalist only an unsuccessful dodge of the more obviously demeaning label dilettante (however brilliant this dilettantism may be)? Or is there a unified field theory to account for these many Wayne Booths? Such a unified center does exist, I believe, though my aim in this paper is certainly not hagiographical. No, I am interested in arguing that Booth's version of rhetorical generalism is relevant to understanding-Booth, to be sure; in my view the essential Booth-but more importantly to understanding the very enterprise of rhetoric itself, as a dynamic, changing basis for liberal education-an education precisely to a specific, coherent, intellectual and moral character.2 Booth has never been content with whatever ethical order or identity he may have managed for himself (as real life author or act-er) over forty-odd years of multiform activity. Explicitly in most of his writings, more or less implicitly in the rest, Booth has not only written about rhetorical