Abstract Michael Psellos' heretofore untranslated synopsis of Hermogenean rhetoric, Peri Rhêtorikês, composed probably between 1060 and 1067, gives us a window into the state of rhetorical education in late Byzantium. The details of its inclusions, elisions, and amplifications suggest the ways in which Hermogenean rhetoric was understood and taught, at least by one uncommonly talented and influential rhetorician. The text suggests that Psellos may have found the pseudo‐Hennogenic On Invention —rather than On Stases or OnTypes of Style—most useful, most amenable to his efforts to revive an "Aristotelian"; rhetorical philosophy, and most relevant to actual rhetorical practices (including his own).

r he three essays that follow offer readings of one of the most popular and l widely known rhetorical performances of recent times, the Earl of Spencer's 1997 funeral eulogy for his sister Diana, Princess of Wales (text reproduced in Appendix). Each section of the paper offers a reading of the address through a critical lens derived from the rhetorical theory of a different canonical theorist, respectively (and chronologically) George Campbell, Richard Whately, and Chaim Perelman and Lucie Olbrechts-Tyteca. Three questions animate this project. The first concerns the relationship of theory to criticism. Neither Campbell, Whately, nor the Belgians discusses the role of rhetorical criticism or offers an apparatus that facilitates it, although each of their theories includes tenets applicable to criticism. How well do their theoretical tenets work at the level of criticism; do any of these theorists introduce concepts that analysis of rhetorical practice might challenge? The second question concerns influence. The three theorists we chose are particularly interesting from this perspective because all of them, to varying degrees, are selfconscious about their debts to the rhetorical tradition. Campbell cites and affirms the contributions of Aristotle, Cicero, and Quintilian, Whately incorporates Campbell, and the Belgians incorporate Whately incorporating Campbell. What is the nature of this influence? Are the differences among these theorists differences of perspective or of emphasis? We are aware of the complexities surrounding the question of influence since it was broached by T.S. Eliot in Tradition and the Individual Talent, subsequently complicated by Harold Bloom, and more recently challenged by Michel Foucault. Our purpose is not to arbitrate these quite different views (which raise their own questions about the nature of influence) but to prompt a discussion of the nature of influence within the rhetorical tradition. The third question concerns the idea of progress in rhetorical theory. In what sense can each of the theorists be said to have made an advance over his predecessors? Does rhetorical theory progress as science typically progresses, by making obsolete that which it builds on? Or does rhetoric resemble philosophy, a discipline in which responses to a relatively constant problem set seem to benefit from their predecessors' work without replacing it?

delegitimate any work that has been done on scientific style and arrangement and any attention that has been paid to ethical and pathetical proofs in (252) by scholars in sociology and rhetoric of science. Pera responds to the point about scientific style by stating believe that style and arrangement, although interesting topics of philosophical analysis, are inessential to science (the law of falling bodies, say, did not acquire or change its status of scientific knowledge when Galileo translated it from Latin into Italian and put it in the context of a dialogue) (255). In effect, he agrees with Gross's assessment by implying that style has no role in science. In addition, Pera's example suggests that he limits the scope of style to mere surface features of discourse-words may change but the concept (or scientific law) does not. If we examine examples from the realm of contemporary science in action, it becomes difficult to continue to conceive of style as ornamental or reduced to surface features and separate from the thoughts being articulated. While some scholars and many scientists may share Pera's reductive definition of style as surface, recent research in rhetoric and composition, as well as postmodern theories of language, suggest that style is connected in central ways with thought and argument (Faigley, Gage, Rankin). To build on this recent scholarship on style, the study of scientific practices can provide important examples of style that encompass an integral part of the scientific concepts or laws being formulated. The role of the rhetorical trope of metaphor or the figure of analogy in the process of scientific inquiry constitutes a prime example. In fact, the role of analogies and metaphors (and a third, related category, models) in scientific investigation has been, for several decades, a topic of much discussion by scholars interested in the workings of science; however, there has been much less inclination for scholars to draw out the implications of these discussions. In this paper, I want to begin to explore some of these implications by reviewing first, how philosophers and rhetoricians of science have conceptualized analogy and its contribution to the work of science; and second, by reporting some observations drawn from an empirical study of a group of physicists as they

A. Introduction In Plato's Phaedrus, Socrates suggests that rhetoric is not only implicated in the continual pursuit of truth, but it is also the study of how truth is made known in (276a). Socrates warns Phaedrus not to suppose that because words are that they have therefore become reliable and permanent (275d). For Socrates, when living speech is down it becomes transformed or objectified into a representation of the real. In Socrates' view, living speech is a state of interiority, an articulation of self-understanding; when speech is alienated from its dialogic context it becomes discourse. Although Socrates argues that one must be exceedingly to believe that written words can do anything more than remind oneself what one already knows, this simple-minded approach to writing provides a means of exploring how discourse produces what Martin Heidegger calls a commemorative meaning. For Heidegger, discourse preserves the remembrance of an event; dead discourse reminds us of the event of living speech because it bears the design and inscribes historical occurrences. character of living speech does not change in its articulation; its character does not begin as an object, does not end as an object, and does not consist of any essential qualities of an object. In Part I of this paper I explore the impact of Heidegger's idea of discourse upon the traditional concept of style to argue, in accordance with Heidegger, that style is a reminder of living speech; style is a disclosure of incarnate thought, the presencing of a human's being that is structured by a two-fold process: first, a standing forth or unconcealing of its presence; and second, a holding back or concealing of its presence. Traditionally, discussions of style have been limited to representational theories of discourse that see style either solely in terms of outward appearance, beautiful form or in terms of some combination that sets form into a bipolar opposition with content. However, Heidegger's argument is that the traditional view of art as an aesthetic object is not adequate. In order to retrieve style from the confines of bipolarity, Heidegger develops a model of art that is based upon his disclosive theory of truth; his theory of art effectively removes beauty as a criterion for understanding art. In The Origin of the Work of Art, Heidegger develops a non-aesthetic approach to a work of art by arguing that truth, rather than beauty, is the origin of a work of art; his essay also suggests the outlines of a non-representational

Abstract Alan gross on the discourses of science by Marcello Pera. Trans. Clarissa Botsford. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1994.

When preparing the revised English version of my book, I was so worried about such reactions as Professor Gross's that I changed the title from Scienza e retorica to The Discourses of Science but I was also so optimistic about my readers that I was sure I would not be misunderstood. In any case, to avoid risks, I warned them that I am not concerned with sociological hermeneutic, communication questions regarding scientific texts, their making, presentation, and diffusion. In particular, with reference to Professor Gross' book, I explicitly said that I do not believe that scientific facts are words, or, to use one of his own expressions in his book The Rhetoric of Science, that, say, the sense of the reality of a molecule is an effect only of words, numbers, and pictures judiciously used with persuasive intent. Unfortunately, my worries were right and my optimism ill-founded.

When James Boswell first meets Samuel Johnson in London in 1763, Johnson has already written the Rambler (1750-52), the Dictionary (1755), and Rasselas (1759), and dominates the publishing marketplace. They become close friends, and, until Johnson's death in 1784, Boswell often records in his journals Johnson's conversations, documenting his Wisdom and Wit and describing Johnson's encounters with his contemporaries. After Johnson's death, Boswell augments his own collection of Johnsonian memorabilia by soliciting anecdotes and letters from many of Johnson's friends, accumulating a mass of material which he pieces together and publishes in 1791 as The Life of Johnson, perhaps the most powerful and controversial biography ever written. In this influential biography of Johnson's life, Boswell presents Johnson as the great sage and philosopher, the composing genie who could dash off brilliant, eloquent essays and verse, seemingly without planning, revising or even rereading them. With this picture Boswell tries to create Johnson as the ideal writer of the age, whose writing method and style perfectly exemplify the paradigm of composition that prevailed in eighteenth-century Scottish rhetorical theory, particularly that of Adam Smith. Influenced by Smith's lectures, which he had attended while a student at Glasgow University, Boswell constructs Johnson as writer within this paradigm and thus fosters both a narrow view of invention and a mythological image of Johnson as inspired speedwriting genius. In the process, he misrepresents Johnson's theory of writing, tying Johnson too closely to what W.S. Howell calls Smith's new rhetoric (541), which focuses on style and views invention as an autonomous activity based on introspection and imagination rather than as interactive, systematic inquiry, Aristotle's conception of invention. A careful reading of the Life of Johnson reveals major contradictions in the picture Boswell sketches of Johnson as writer and indicates that Boswell's mythical image of Johnson's spontaneous writing ability tends to rest upon thin and questionable anecdotal evidence, upon the clever way Boswell arranges and phrases his material, upon the narrow conception of invention he inherited from Adam Smith, and upon his need to canonize Johnson into literary sainthood and even to make him the secular Godhead of the age, the Father of modern writing. At the same time, it is difficult to avoid concluding that most contemporary critics remain mesmerized by Boswell's myth and impelled by his same motives.

The Sixth Canon: Belletristic Rhetorical Theory and Its French Antecedents by Barbara Warnick. Columbia: University of South Carolina P, 1993. 176 pp.

Whenever I give a talk about the Rhetoric, audiences ask about rhetorical deception and fraud, about the morality of rhetoric, and about how to tell a good rhetorician from a sophist. The first and most important thing to say about the Rhetoric in connection with such questions of the morality of rhetoric is that Aristotle has very little to say about them, and, as far as I can tell, very little interest in them. Contemporary readers of the Rhetoric see people constantly duped by slick commercial and political advertisements, and hope that the Rhetoric can help them become conscious of hidden persuasion, or to make more morally based discriminations between decent appeals, which they should trust, and immoral ones, which they should reject. Rhetoric is often promoted today as an equivalent to defensive driving. It is worth asking why these questions have so little interest for Aristotle.

(1994). Humanist and empiricist rhetorics: Some reflections on rhetorical sensitivity, message design logics, and multiple goal structures. Rhetoric Society Quarterly: Vol. 23, No. 3-4, pp. 27-45.

Classical practitioners of the art of rhetoric such as Demosthenes have long been a familiar part of the rhetorical tradition, but subsequent periods have generally been confined to the history of rhetorical theory, with little attention paid to political rhetoric or public discourse. We need to develop a more rhetorical perspective on the history of rhetoric to encompass rhetoric's dual nature as an intellectual discipline and a practical political art. Such a perspective would focus on the domain between the learned culture and the public experience, the domain where rhetorical theories are applied to discursive practices to formalize who can speak, how controversial issues are to be argued, and what political purposes such arguments serve. The eighteenth century is a dynamic period in the history of rhetoric precisely because the domain between the educated world and the public sphere was transformed by the expansion of the reading public.' Rhetoricians such as Hugh Blair were the first professors to lecture on modern culture because they taught students who came from the provinces of the English reading public.2 General histories of college English studies tend to ignore eighteenth-century rhetoricians in the assumption that the study of English is more or less synonymous with the study of literature (see Baldick, Graff, McMurty, and Palmer).3 We need more rhetorically oriented histories of modem cultural studies, not just because literature specialists have tacitly accepted the erasure of rhetoric from such studies, but also because the formation of disciplinary knowledge is a rhetorical process, and the domain of rhetoric is where disciplines set themselves off from related discourses and public audiences. Rhetoricians first introduced English into the university curriculum in the middle of the eighteenth century in Scotland, America, and elsewhere in the cultural provinces. All of the figures whom Howell has categorized as New rhetoricians came from outside the centers of English education, while Oxford and Cambridge

Academic Discourse and Critical Consciousness by Patricia Bizzell. Pittsburgh, U of Pittsburg P, 1992; pp. 295.

For me it is a starting point in all thought about language that, whatever I say or do with words, my expression will never mean exactly the same thing to you that it does to me; and of course yours will never mean exactly the same thing to me that it does to you. It cannot: each act of expression is a gesture against a context; it derives its meaning largely, perhaps entirely, from its relation to that context; and for each of us the context of every gesture is different, if only because one of us is doing it, the other observing. Think of the tennis game, and how differently the same shot is experienced by you and by me. From your point of view, having made the play, the ball disappears across the net into the larger scene from which it is about to be returned; for me, the ball emerges from such a scene to become increasingly the object of focus and potential action. For you the shot is something done; for me it constitutes a challenge: Can I respond? This is to focus on the difference between the sender and the receiver, between the person who writes words in her study, on a pad, then sees them printed and sent forth into the world to merge with all the other books and articles out there, and the other person, who finds this book or article among the others, idly glances at it, or chooses to read it with care, and thus locates it within the world of the other texts that he has known. This is one difference, but not the only one, for our sense of context and action is different in many other ways as well: our sense of the words themselves is different, for they have different histories for each of us; our sense of the way words are related by syntax varies too, since, as any language teacher knows, we inhabit different syntactical worlds; and our experience of the natural world, of other people, of institutions, of other gestures on other occasions-all of which provide parts of the context against which the particular performance occursvary too. My meaning can never be your meaning; all writing is a way of addressing, or avoiding, that fact. It is this theme that I wish to pursue in responding to the various articles written about my work, beginning with that by Eugene Garver.

(1989). Making meaning in literate conversations: A teachable sequence for reflective writing. Rhetoric Society Quarterly: Vol. 19, No. 3, pp. 229-243.