Reviews 319 mate surpassing by the same forces of Renaissance humanism that renewed its cultural lease in the Western world. William P. Weaver Baylor University Otto Fischer and Ann Ôhrberg, eds., Metamorphoses ofRhetoric. Clas­ sical Rhetoric in the Eighteenth Century. (Studia Rhetorica Upsaliensia 3), Uppsala: Rhetoric at the Department of Literature, Uppsala University, 2011, 213 pp., ISBN: 978-91-980081-0-4. ISSN: 1102-9714 As a result of the critique from grammarians and philosophers of the pre­ vious centuries, eighteenth century rhetoric can be said to undergo metamor­ phoses in several ways. Inspired by a new philosophical awareness of man's thought and language combined with an interest in conversational commu­ nication, works on style and taste came to the fore in all European countries. This volume presents important eighteenth century rhetorical works and their contexts in France, Germany, and Sweden. Two chapters deal with rhetoric's status in France. Marc André Bernier from Université du Québec à Trois-Rivières follows the changes through inventio: "Metamorphoses of the inventio in Eighteenth-Century France from Bernard Lamy to Jean-Francois Marmontel" (pp. 25-43). Here we find in­ ventio combined with creativity in Marmontel's poetics. This gives way to a cosmological inventio integrating nature, history, and words in an untra­ ditionally way stressing the infinite possibilities. In "Renouveau de la rhétorique et critique des théories classiques du lan­ gage" (pp. 45-69) Gabrielle Radica from Université de Picardie-Jules Verne in Amiens uses Etiene Bonnot de Condillac and Jean-Jacques Rousseau as examples. With illustrative citations from these two authors she presents the epistemological context for her conclusion: Condillac and Rousseau gave new life to the passions, their language and effect based on "fondements an­ thropologiques" (p. 64) - not a result of rhetoric as ars, but rather of a natural practice. One gets the impression that these passions, at least in a Condillac's pedagogical context, should always be polite. Regarding the beauty of style, he recommends two properties: "la netteté et le caractère" (p. 53). Anna Cullhed from Uppsala University studies Entwurfeiner Théorie und Literatur der schbnen Wissenschaften by Johann Joachim Eschenburg. Through the changes in the respective editions she follows the evolvement of belletrist rhetoric from the end of the eighteenth into the beginning of the nineteenth century (pp. 71-107). Eschenburg is a well-chosen demonstration of the growing tension between rhetoric and poetics. Interestingly enough, he is acquainted with the Scottish rhetoricians Campbell, Lord Karnes and Blair (p- 94). 320 RHETORICA The last four chapters by three scholars from Uppsala University and a Ph.D-student from Órebro University give an insightful picture of eigh­ teenth century rhetoric in Sweden. Here lies the book's main contribution to eighteenth century scholarship. Material from Swedish archives and press is made available to the public. Otto Fischer gives an overview of how the critique of rhetorical matters - for example, textbooks used in schools - led to a new return to antique authors (pp. 109-131). From his reading of pub­ lished as well as unpublished material, he gives a good impression of the inherent tension concerning rhetoric towards 1800: "to rescue eloquence we must do away with rhetoric, at least with rhetoric conceived of as theory and pedagogy." (pp. 120-21) Marie-Christine Skuncke is known within Nordic rhetoric for her book about Gustav Ill's rhetorical and political education. In "Appropriations of Political Rhetoric in Eighteenth-Century Sweden" (pp. 133-51), she returns to Gustav III focusing on his speech from 1772. This crucial speech ended an unruly, though politically free period and restored a powerful monarchy. Skuncke juxtaposes a critical pamphlet from the emerging middle class with the king's speech and find them both eloquent. Stefan Rimm's "Rhetoric, Texts and Tradition in Swedish 18th Century Schools" (pp. 153-72) is related to his dissertation on the subject. Read­ ers may already have some idea of Apthonius' progymnasmata in Swedish schools from papers at ISHR conferences. Rimm focuses on Vosius' Elementa Rhetorica analyzing several editions. To some degree Rimm underestimates the influence of belletrist rhetoric on school rhetoric at the end of the century, but he rightly warns us against...

Reviews Christopher Reid, "Imprison'd Wranglers": The Rhetorical Culture ofthe House ofCommons, 1760-1800, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012. 270 pp., ISBN: 978-0-19-958109-2 As rhetoricians expand the parameters of rhetorical histories, the inter­ actions between politicians and the people on "Main Street" or "out of doors" become as important as the words of famous orators. In Imprison'd Wranglers, Christopher Reid extends this approach to the eighteenth-century British Parliament. He argues for a "rhetorical culture" surrounding the House of Commons in an era when politicians became public figures. According to Reid, new relationships developed between Members and constituents with the expansion of print culture: "eloquence was flowing outside the House, to be captured, admired, or caricatured in print, before flowing back in the form of pamphlets and newspaper reports... which were read in the Chamber " (p. 14). By tracing this flow through multiple institutions and media, he produces a comprehensive account of change and continuity in parliamentary oratory. The title of Reid's book comes from William Cowper's The Task (1785), in which the poet, reading newspaper reports of debates, longs to "set th' im­ prison'd wranglers free." While Cowper reconstructs orators' performances, Reid examines now MPs were metaphorically "imprisoned" in the "chain of newspaper mediations that brought speech events in Westminster" to distant constituents and reassesses the rhetorical dynamics of distributing parliamentary speech in print (p. 3). By addressing "the complex reciprocity between print and oratory" in late eighteenth-century Britain, Imprison'd Wranglers complements recent work by Carolyn Eastman (A Nation ofSpeechifiers , 2009) and Sandra Gustafson (Imagining Deliberative Democracy, 2011), who explore how printed American oratory fostered new political identities in the new nation and promoted new forms of rhetorical education at the turn of the nineteenth century (Eastman, p. 10). Reid likewise studies how print reconstructions of the British Commons "brought parliamentary debate onto a broader terrain of public argument," "permanently altered the rhetorical context" of political speech, and gave the people "a stake in Parliament" (Reid, p. 11, 75). To survey the breadth of Parliament's "rhetorical culture," Reid exam­ ines newspapers, pamphlets, letters, collections like William Cobbett's ParliaRhetorica , Vol. XXXII, Issue 3, pp. 312-323, ISSN 0734-8584, electronic ISSN 15338541 . ©2014 by The International Society for the History of Rhetoric. All rights re­ served. Please direct all requests for permission to photocopy or reproduce article content through the University of California Press's Rights and Permissions website, at http://www.ucpressjournals.com/reprintlnfo.asp. DOI: 10.1525/RH.2014.32.3.312. Reviews 313 ntaty History ofEngland, and satirical sketches (p. 3). The architecture of the Chamber, the classical curriculum, and the working conditions of newspaper reporters also come under his purview. He draws on political historians like David Cannadine and Joanna Innes but approaches parliamentary texts and practices as a historian of rhetoric. Reid compares parliamentary speaking techniques to classical and eighteenth-century rhetorical theories and ad­ dresses the challenges of working with transcripts of oral performances. For him, reporters transcripts matter less as accurate representations of speech than as efforts to represent "the House as a place of collective rhetorical action ... in which political arguments and meanings were forged" (p. 17). These archives, including the transcripts, the Chamber, and reporting practices, re­ veal how oratory circulated beyond the Chamber and brought constituents into the political nation. Imprison'd Wranglers comprises four sections: Part 1 (Chapter 2) ap­ plies Roxanne Mountford's "geography of a communicative event" to St. Stephen's Chapel, the home of the eighteenth-century Commons (p. 25). The three chapters of Part 2 discuss how Parliament reached the public through the "fictitious tribunals of the press" (Chapter 3), reporters who copied debates from memory (Chapter 4), and visual satirists like James Gillray (Chapter 5) (p. 75). In Part 3, Reid examines how MPs modified classical rhetorical practices including declamation (Chapter 6) and the con­ cept of ethos (Chapter 7) in the face of increasing publicity. Part 4 features a broader view of parliamentary rhetorical culture with a case study of the 1773 Lord Clive debates (Chapter 8) and an exploration of MPs' persuasive uses of quotation (Chapter 9). Reid concludes with...

Reviews 317 Peter Mack, A History of Renaissance Rhetoric 1380-1620 (OxfordWarburg Studies), Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011. 345 pp ISBN: 978-0-19-959728-4 In A bdistoi i/ of Renaissance Rhetoric 2380—1620, Peter Mack expertly describes the fortunes of Renaissance rhetoric within its academic and textual settings. Rhetoric in the Renaissance was a school subject, mostly covered in the grammar schools, with secondary importance in the universities, and thousands of rhetorical textbooks from the period survive as testimony to its ascendancy within the liberal arts curriculum. With a dizzying command of technical detail, Mack has delved into this large and complex textual record and emerged with a synthesis that will be required reading for students of the subject. Beginning with a description of the most significant ancient treatises on rhetoric, followed by a chapter on the contributions of key fifteenth-century Italians (and one notable Cretan, George of Trebizond), Mack proceeds to a series of four chapters focused on teachers whose textbooks had an extraordinary impact on the theory and teaching of rhetoric in the sixteenth century: Rudolph Agricola, Erasmus, Melanchthon, and Ramus. The chapter on Melanchthon, the "dominant figure" of the years 1519-45 (p. 104), is filled out with sections on his chief students and followers. The chapter on Ramus (and his associate Omer Talon) gives a useful overview of the controversy and key combatants surrounding his polarizing reforms. With helpful tables outlining the contents of their principle writings on rhetoric, Mack charts their innovative and (again in the case of Ramus) agonistic adaptations of the classical program. The first half of the book is therefore devoted to the big players in the book market for Renaissance rhetoric - those whose work best adapted the classical program to the educational needs and occasions of the humanist school. Indeed, for much of the period that Mack describes, Renaissance rhetoric was a symbiosis of two types of books on rhetoric: classical (Ciceronian) treatises and humanist manuals. For most of the sixteenth century, there is a strong correlation between the numbers of editions of the Rhetorica ad Herennium (still generally attributed to Cicero in the period) and the most popular humanist treatises (pp. 30-2). Mack explains the apparent symbiosis by noting the frequent use of humanist treatises as a preliminary study, a prologue to the study of a full-length classical treatise. But after decades of steady demand, humanist manuals and classical treatises alike suffer steep declines in production after the 1560s. The cause of the sudden decline is not clear, though Mack offers a number of suggestions: the rising fortunes of Talon's rhetoric, which was not coupled to full-length treatises; new syntheses of classical and humanist rhetoric, such as found in the popular De arte rhetorica libri tres (1562) of the Jesuit educator Cyprian Soarez; the scholastic revival of the late-sixteenth century; or even the efficiency of the second-hand book market to meet continuing demand for humanist and classical rhetorics. 318 RHETORICA Renaissance rhetoric was equally tied up with the fortunes of the liberal arts, especially logic or dialectic. It is one of the virtues of HRR 1380— 1620 that it provides through the main part of the narrative a parallel account of the fortunes of both humanist rhetoric and dialectic. Melanchthon described his textbooks on rhetoric and dialectic as companion pieces, and even Ramus, who notoriously drew a sharp distinction between dialectic and rhetoric, distributing four of the five classical offices of rhetoric between them, insisted on the necessity and complementarity of both (pp. 142-5). Both rhetoric and dialectic were combined in a very influential method of critical reading, one of the uses of Renaissance rhetoric to which Mack is especially attentive. The parallel fortunes of rhetoric and dialectic in northern Europe that Mack tells in the first half of the book are complemented, in the second half, by a chapter on the fortunes of rhetoric in southern Europe in the sixteenth-century (chapter 8), and chapters on the contemporary fortunes of specialized rhetorical treatises: manuals of tropes and figures (chapter 10), letter-writing manuals (chapter 11), preaching manuals and legal di­ alectics (chapter 12), and vernacular rhetorics (chapter 13). In...

Abstract This article explores questions about “civility” in the 2012 election. Through an analysis of media discussions raising the term, four themes are constructed focusing on the limitations of civility discourse. While seeking to preserve the best that civil orientations afford, I argue that adding a deliberative approach to such discourse addresses moments when civil appeals appear to be most limited. This essay finds that working between civil and deliberative constructs provides an instructive perspective for understanding the workings of and possibilities for public discourse during situations when civility rhetoric is typically raised. Relative to civil communication—and associated concepts such as dialogue and advocacy—specific norms, benefits, examples, and implications of a deliberative rhetorical vision are charted for problem-solving, public policy contexts.

Sonic Persuasion is predominantly a history of sound in twentieth-century American culture that offers examples of how sound functions argumentatively in specific historical contexts. Goodale argues that sound can be read or interpreted in a manner similar to words and images but that the field of communication has largely neglected sound and its relationship to words and images. He shows how dialect, accents, and intonations in presidential speeches; ticking clocks, rumbling locomotives, and machinic hums in literary texts; and the sound of sirens and bombs in cartoons and war propaganda all function persuasively in rhetorical ecologies that contain words, images, and technologies. The book opens with an anecdote that foreshadows Goodale's basic mode of operation. FDR's iconic phrase “The only thing to fear is fear itself” loses much of its persuasive power when encountered only as words on a page. A significant aspect of its rhetorical force was Roosevelt's use of a pause after “fear” and before “is.” The silent pause invited listeners to fill in the gap with their own imagined fears and allowed Roosevelt to break this tension with a strong emphasis on “is” that focuses the audience's attention on “fear itself” (1–2). The cadence and sound of his voice was tailored to take advantage of the persuasive affordances of radio and does not translate to the page. Rather than isolate sound as an object of study in the manner of sound studies, Goodale's examples and close readings prompt his readers to integrate sound into the mainstream of rhetorical scholarship.Along with McLuhan, Goodale argues that humanities researchers have neglected “ear culture.” Following critiques of modern and Western visual bias, he locates the origin of this tendency in Plato's allegory of the cave and its reproduction in scholarship that emphasizes texts and archives. Even though twentieth-century technologies have increasingly made it possible to archive sound, most digitization projects have centered on archiving texts and images, with some of the online sonic archives being almost “as ephemeral as speech itself” (5). Texts and images are also much easier to reproduce in print journals that are still the valued venue for scholarship. And sound has failed to transcend disciplinary boundaries. While words are still central to English departments and images are still central to art departments, they are both engaged widely across many fields in a way that sound is not—sound predominantly remains the scholarly property of music departments. Even the field of speech communication, for Goodale, gave up its previous emphasis on voice and sound after the invention of television—film, television, and the internet have long surpassed the phonograph and radio as areas of interest in communication (6). While there is a growing movement surrounding sound, from Jonathan Sterne in sound studies to Joshua Gunn in communication, Goodale maintains that a significant hurdle for sound's wider dissemination across the humanities is that it is difficult to “read” in the traditional humanities sense of the term. His book sets out to show how these difficulties can be overcome. Less a theoretical treatise on sound, than a series of close readings that practice this form of sound criticism, the book seeks to show that sound can be read closely and on par with images and words.In chapter 2, “Fitting Sounds,” Goodale develops readings of recorded presidential speeches to show that a significant shift occurred in the sound of presidential oratory in the period between 1892 and 1912. Grounding these readings in the notion of a “period ear,” he culls together evidence from the language of political cartoons to verbal cues in early phonographic recordings and literary novels to public speaking textbooks to show how the mixing of dialects and accents influences presidential rhetoric. Over this period, the increase in foreign-speaking immigrants, the rising influence of labor on politics, the dissemination of recording technologies, and changing ideas of masculinity drive a shift from a theatrical or orotund style through a transitional period to a vernacular, instructional voice. The orotund style, which Goodale examines through short, close readings of the speeches of Grover Cleveland and William McKinley, is modeled on Shakespearean actors and conveys a sense of elite class and power in its weightiness and gravitas. Every letter and every word is articulated clearly and heard distinctly. The style is marked by rolling r's and y's pronounced like a long i rather than ee (28). This kind of slow pacing and specific pronunciation was often needed to project to larger crowds in the less than ideal acoustic surroundings in which political speeches were often delivered. Goodale identifies a transitional, contextualizing moment marked by works such as Mark Twain's Huckleberry Finn, whose characters spoke in a more vernacular style, by actors such as Henry Irving, who rejected the orotund style in one of the first phonographic recordings of Richard III, and by speech teachers such as Brainard Gardner Smith, who began to advise orators to “speak as if before friends” (33). Goodale shows the turn in oratory that favored the instructional, plain style of professors through a close analysis of an early recording from Theodore Roosevelt's 1912 campaign that combined bits of his stump speech “The Right of the People to Rule” and his Progressive Party convention speech, “Confessions of Faith.” Roosevelt edited the speeches into a four-minute recording that was intended to reach broader audiences in the home and the saloon. Roosevelt fails to trill his r's, fails to pronounce every consonant and syllable, and speaks in the key of C (ascending and descending along the scale), in an attempt to mimic popular music, much of which was written in that key. The changing historical context created certain “sonic expectations” among public audiences that prompted Roosevelt to become the first president to sound like the people, providing Goodale with evidence that persuasively demonstrates the significance of sound in Roosevelt's recordings.Chapter 3, “Machine Mouth,” focuses on the quintessentially modern sounds of the clock and the locomotive to examine how sound can pierce or fragment identity and transform into a “sonic envelope” that protects and strengthens identity and community. What began as a “war of the working class against the clock” is taken up and celebrated by modern artists and composers and eventually turns into the accepted ambient sound of modernity. Pre–WWI artists, writers, and composers, embrace the deterritorializing of modern noise. Cubists such as Pablo Picasso and Georges Braque paint with sharp staccato lines that run through their subjects, fragmenting them into multiplicities. Goodale reads this as imitating the sharp sound of modernity and its effect on listeners. Braque's Woman with a Guitar (1913) exemplifies this technique, featuring lines cutting through the figure that connote the lines of a musical staff or the strings of a guitar. Futurists such as Carlo Carra and Fillipo Tommaso Marinetti challenge visual artists and poets to render sound and noise through movement, vibration, and color. Carra sees sounds as always “freed from their origin” (58) and uses techniques such as acute angles, oblique lines, and subjective perspectives to translate these sonic sensations into images. Umberto Boccioni observes that “an object moving at speed (a train, a car, a bicycle) appears in pure sensation in the form of an emotional ambience, which takes the form of horizontal penetrations at acute angles” (58). However, this cultural work serves to familiarize and domesticate these sounds, which produces “sound envelopes.” Goodale argues that futurist poet Marinetti's attempts to imitate the ear's ability to hear simultaneous sounds from multiple directions anticipates Hitler's orations. Marinetti's writing is intentionally disturbing, violent, and chaotic. But rather than fragmenting the self, Hitler used “the sound of his voice, his mechanized armies, and the crowd to unify a massive group into a single body politic” (61). Hitler uses the microphone, loudspeaker, and radio to envelop his listeners in sound. Vocal domination and the manipulation of applause create a comforting sonic envelope. Triumph of the Will, for example, uses microphones, martial music, cheers, church bells, and Hitler's amplified voice to “make an incredibly persuasive aural experience, one that bathed listeners in an impermeable sonorous envelope” (64). Adapting to these initially jarring modern sounds, audiences recompose them into a soundscape that creates identification rather than disrupts identity—in Hitler's case with disastrous results. Goodale examines a number of sonic artists up through bluesman Bukka White's integration of locomotive sounds into song to show how this “period ear” transforms over time—modern sound starts as jarring assault and becomes ambient soundscape. Radio plays a key role in this transformation because listeners can control the volume, turn to stations that align with preestablished identities, place the radio in familiar environments such as the home or church, and place the radio at the center of a sonic envelope rather than experiencing a sonic assault from all sides.In chapter 4, “The Race of Sound,” Goodale examines sonic persuasion even more directly, showing how tropes related to race were eventually used to upend mainstream sonic segregation. This chapter focuses on music cultures of the interwar period and the ways musicians collaborated directly and indirectly in order to navigate the record industry's racialized genre categories and eventually rearticulate them. Goodale provides close readings of a recorded oral history from ex-slave Phoebe Boyd, a radio episode of Amos and Andy, and Billie Holiday's recording of “Strange Fruit.” Because sound recordings were still dominant in this pretelevision era, determination of race often had to be made through voice, which is more rhetorically malleable than bodies, problematizing the commonplace that voice is a truer reflection of the self. The heights of audio technologies—phonograph and radio—made “sonic passing” through vocal and musical style a significant rhetorical strategy (78), and musicians regularly upended segregation by performing together in clubs and studios and imitating each other's styles. The chapter is awash in examples, but the focus on Holiday directly links sonic persuasion to the metaphor of coloring: color as skin, as tone in music or sound, and as rhetorical trope (97). Following Cicero and Seneca, Goodale sees tone as casting “light or darkness on events, facts, and personalities,” coloring listener's interpretations of an argument (97). “Color” is a verb that connotes change; it conveys the idea of influencing or distorting perception that isn't limited to the visual. In 1933, Holiday joins an integrated group put together by Benny Goodman in which she is prompted to sing “straight” or in a white style, because of the sonic expectations of the time and the need to “market race” (92). But by 1939's recording of “Strange Fruit,” her signature color/ing came front and center. Holiday took her style into the antilynching protest song in order to color the listener's perceptions just as FDR did with his speeches. Goodale writes: The south's purported goodness, for example, gets an ironic treatment when Holiday twists phrases like “sweet and fresh” while eliding “gallant” into something sonically less than a full word…. Her intonation of “sudden”… is rapid, thus turning the word into an example of itself. When she forces out the word bulging, she imitates with her voice the visual appearance of something being forced outward. The word breeze is elongated, and the letter b in blood drips from Holiday's lips like the life force of the victims she describes. When Holiday sings drop her voice briefly ascends then descends in a long glissando. At the end of the dragged out drop, Holiday's vibrato sonically mimics the tension of the long rope bouncing at first then quivering, then remaining still. Her voice has gained in intensity until this moment but then fades out, suggesting that it is at this point in the song when the lynching has occurred and life has ended. (99–100) She renders the words through a form of sonic persuasion that colors them in sounds that conflate the multiple meanings of the term—race, sound, and influence—creating a sonic envelope that colors the listener's experience.In Chapter 5, “Sounds of War,” Goodale concludes his analyses with an examination of sound in the cold war period. He analyzes sonic manipulations in cold war propaganda, specifically the ways that civil defense sirens and the sounds of dropping bombs were used to greater and lesser effects. Goodale looks at the educational film Duck and Cover's misguided use of the siren, which is intended to ease fears by teaching preparedness but ends up amplifying those fears; Hollywood's use of diving bombs in the Roadrunner cartoons, which actually succeeded in alleviating fears of bombing; and the persuasive impact of sonic manipulation in President Johnson's “Daisy” campaign ad from 1964. While the sound of the air raid sirens pierced the audience's sonic envelope, the Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote cartoons turn the sounds of war into comic familiarity, enveloping the listeners in a safer aural environment. In addition to providing his typical contextualization that places creator Chuck Jones as a member of Hollywood's left, Goodale offers a close reading that centers on the Doppler effect. Christian Doppler actually identified the effect using light, noticing that as an object approaches you its light waves are compressed and shift toward the higher visual frequency, blue light, and that as it moves away it shifts into light waves that are stretched into the red end of the spectrum. Christoph Ballot first tested the theory with sound, having trumpeters play on a moving train. Moving toward the listener the sound waves are compressed into the higher frequencies, and moving away they are stretched into the lower frequencies where the sound correspondingly moves down the musical scale in pitch (118). Goodale notes how this materiality of sound operates rhetorically in the Wile E. Coyote cartoons: It is a sound from the perspective of a particular listener: the listener away from whom the bomb travels. These are the sounds produced by a culture that has, since 1812, bombed others and not been bombed itself. Listen to a war film in Germany, and you are likely to hear a very different sound; the sound of something falling toward the listener has a gradually ascending or constant high-pitched scream, not an almost musical, falling whistle. The sound of the falling bomb that Jones made famous in the 1950s is the sound perceived by people who are bombers and not the bombed. It is the sound of survival, not of death. (118–19) The listener enthymematically fills in the phenomenological sonic position of survival, which is reinforced by Wile E. Coyote's continued survival after every pratfall. This kind of enthymematic identification is central to Goodale's chapter and analyses. In his discussion of America's use of soundless bombing videos during the Gulf War, he draws on Kathleen Hall Jamieson's concept “empathematic,” which combines enthymeme and empathy, filling in the argumentative warrants and identifying with the subject positions the argument offers. But the lack of sound in the grainy, video-game-like propaganda videos left American audiences “little possibility of stepping into the shoes of the Iraqis and completing the argument about the real effects of bombs” (127). The Iraqis had been turned into caricatures that survive rather than humans being bombed and thus worthy of empathy.Since Sonic Persuasion is predominantly a history of sound, readers in philosophy will find smaller amounts of theoretical development and readers in rhetoric will find a reliance on a relatively traditional sense of rhetoric. Rhetorical concepts such as the enthymeme and identification are predominant in Goodale's examples, and he adopts a relatively traditional model of interpretation based on historical context and close reading, his goal being critical awareness. What is exciting about the sonic turn for many is the potential to develop newer rhetorical concepts and theoretical models out of engagements with sound. While Goodale hints at this potential, his interpretive practice stays within relatively well-recognized territory.1 But it is important to acknowledge what is significant about book on its own terms. Just as it became clear in the late 1990s that we could no longer talk about cultural studies without digital technologies, since culture was becoming so intimately tied to the digital, Goodale makes the case that in the twentieth century we can't talk about rhetoric without sound, since persuasion has been so intimately tied to the sonic. For a broader readership in communication or composition, the book provides a persuasive rationale for acknowledging how sound potentially impacts all acts of persuasion. Sonic Persuasion makes the case for opening the field to a wide array of engagements with sound, and while it doesn't always take us to these diverse places and methods—affect beyond meaning, engagement beyond interpretation, method beyond close reading and historical context—it does provide clear disciplinary grounds for these pursuits, making it difficult to neglect the sounds that fragment and envelop everyday acts of persuasion and the slickest media manipulations.

Aristotle's Politics: Living Well and Living Together, Eugene Garver's third book on key texts of the Aristotelian corpus, charts the relationship between politics and philosophy through careful detailing of Aristotle's text. In other words, Garver reads the Politics for us. This is an achievement in itself given the gravity of both Garver's and Aristotle's thinking. Garver's reading elaborates the arguments of the Politics in order to establish a claim for what he calls “political philosophy.” His reading offers a methodological defense for a form of thinking that is itself not necessarily either “practical” or “political,” at least as scholars of rhetoric would tend to understand these terms. But Garver gives us a clue to his understanding of political philosophy when he describes Aristotle's “most impressive achievement” in the following way: The Politics “shows how to construct a constitution and a way of life ethically superior to the citizens who comprise the state” (3). Garver thus reads the paradoxes of politics and philosophy as generative rather than aporetic, seeking in the Politics something more than the mere realization of the final book of the Nicomachean Ethics, where Aristotle argues that the regime (politeia) is the container in which the bare life of the individual is transformed into the life of a citizen.Garver situates political philosophy through a logic of praxis that implicates statesman and citizen in starkly different registers. Politics is not just about the one but also the many. While this statement may be a truism of the Rhetoric, Garver takes up the Politics in order to articulate the question of the many in a way distinct from a certain rhetorical conception of politics and political practice. Garver brings to bear a political philosophical vocabulary that is guided by the statesman (politikos) rather than the citizen (politeis) or judge (kriteis). The statesman will utilize rhetoric as a practice, as Garver notes, but it is far from clear that the statesman is meant to approach political philosophy from a rhetorical perspective. Garver marshals a series of distinctions highlighting Aristotle's unique conceptualization of the polis, a structure straddling the disjunct between artificial and natural forms of being. This conceptualization figures the polis as both artificial and natural but will come to be understood by Aristotle, according to Garver, through the terms of political philosophy. Chapter 1 deals with the “natural” relationship between master and slave memorably defined in the first book of the Politics. Taking up this “most notorious feature” of the Politics, Garver argues that the concept of natural slavery is not so much a prescription but a description: it is a way to delineate the features of politics and to distinguish them from other forms of relation, such as the family (oikos). In contrast to those modern commentators who focus on Aristotle's references to “natural” slaves, Garver argues that Aristotle's primary concern is actually with the master (despotes), who is unique in that his capacity (dynamis) extends into two tasks rather than being confined to one: first, the administration of inferiors (slave ownership) and second, participation with equals (politics): “The same person is both master and citizen,” Garver notes, and “the principal problems of politics… come from that fact” (26). For Aristotle, Greeks are both uniquely suited for political life and uniquely susceptible to the desire for domination and tyranny (27–28; 33). The drive toward mastery characteristic of the despotes also characterizes the Greek citizen more generally.If the Greeks, whom Aristotle celebrates as the only ethnos capable of meaningful citizenship, are also the only ‘natural despots,’ then politics calls for a structural response to this excess (pleonexia): “Slaves have the wrong nature…. Despots have the right nature, and yet still degenerate without… proper political circumstances” (33). This claim's double-sidedness positions politics not just as a possibility but also as a deep and persistent problem that political philosophy is enlisted to solve. Both sophistical rhetoric (Rhetoric 1354a10–30) as well as the individual and social forms of the polis, then, have a capacity for misrecognizing the sources of political legitimacy. Political philosophy, rather than rhetoric as an “art of character,” as Garver's previous book on the Rhetoric describes it, becomes the response to this problem of politics.Aristotle's Politics relies on the interplay between the search for proper political circumstances and a certain conception of the human. Thus the Politics appeals to a variety of characteristics of the human being, including philia (friendship) and thumos (spiritedness). But these human characteristics become a call for a mode of cognizing and organizing the forms of life that exist within the polis (34–37). The polis, it seems, does not constitute but rather only expresses the relationship of spirit, knowledge, desire, and virtue. Aristotle describes, taxonomizes, and interweaves these concepts. For example, as Garver notes, “You need both thumos and intelligence to be guided to virtue. The conclusion, but nothing leading up to it, talks about virtue. They are connected through citizenship. Without thumos and intelligence, one cannot be political. Without being a political animal, one cannot be guided to virtue. And conversely, only people who can be guided to virtue are fully political animals” (36).These distinctions are crucial to Garver's emphasis on the relation between Aristotelian politics and the logic of political philosophy, which calls for a politics structurally irreducible to economic contract, instrumental rationality, or individual liberty (37–41). Making political societies coincide with the nature of its individuals is not Aristotle's task, as it was for Plato. Such a task is incoherent for Aristotle's polis—a community made up of different elements linked only by constitution and citizenship. Garver notes Aristotle's recognition of the community's inherent diversity, both in its definition (i.e., that a polis is made up of different parts rather than single essences) and its composition (the a polis contains good and bad, strong and weak, few and many).Garver takes up the Politics' discussions of property and education to distinguish Aristotelian politics from its Platonic and modern variants. The moderns and Plato take opposing sides on property: for moderns, private property is the sine qua non of the well-ordered community; for Plato, it signals its absolute disunity. Aristotle takes up the space between the two, arguing that each side commits a political category error. Aristotle, Garver reminds us, “sees no right to private property”; its virtue lies in its use, not its possession (50). Against Plato, Aristotle sees public use of private property as a method for bringing people of different kinds together under the name of the political community, which imbues them with common purpose (49–50). This common purpose leads to a discussion of education: temperance, generosity, and “the virtue of liberality” (51–52). Education is crucially communal; it highlights “what people must share” (53). It reframes self-sufficiency, changing greed to generosity, arrogance to humility, and selfishness to sharing: “Self-sufficiency is redefined when we add liberality to temperance, transforming it from economic to ethical and political self-sufficiency” (57). This type of self-sufficiency is misrecognized; it is a basis for Aristotle's critique of Plato—“even Plato neglected education,” Garver says—and his description of the constitutions (55–56).But education is not a comprehensive good. For Aristotle, it is a quality that follows from constitutional design and the more narrow education of political philosophy. Garver's argument is predicated on a turn to the philosophical understanding of the political constitution. The shift brings us to the ground of praxis, wherein rhetorical scholarship might find itself more—for Garver, too—confident. This ground is the move from politics as techne—whose paradigm is the externalizing viewpoint of the Republic—to politics as phronesis (56; 58–63). Garver describes this shift in political understanding as “from making to doing…. The state cannot be a work of art” (45). The state's—particularly the ruler's—task is not to make the relation between ruler and ruled by “form and matter” (i.e., to posit political equality irrespective of practice) but to instill “self-replicating” virtue, whereby “we become virtuous by performing virtuous actions” (56). Here, the form of the polis–especially its constitution—tends toward a theory of right rather than toward a theory of the good. Garver insists that this recognition of right over good in politics is not due to the modern “fact of pluralism,” á la Rawls. Instead, it has to do with the aims of the polis, which are distinct from (though related to) the aspirations of a virtuous man, who aims toward individual good (57).Hostile to the modern division between the public and the private, Garver argues that for Aristotle, “civic participation never means casting aside and bracketing one's particularity. We never leave behind life in pursuit of the good life” (57). The modern argument views the good life as unencumbered, starting with Locke and Mill through to Rawls's justice as fairness. In contrast, Garver argues Aristotle offers us a different wager: it “encumbers” us with an aim toward the good life, while “unencumbering” us by refusing the “alienation” internal to distinctions of public and private (57–58). What emerges, for Garver, is a “comprehensive” view of political action affirming the relevance of “self-regarding”—private—activity.Arguing for the polis as a complex yet common conceptual form, Garver pins the “comprehensiveness” of an Aristotelian politics to a set of “incomplete” definitions that often appear circular, such as “citizen,” “constitution,” and “state.” In calling the normative basis of politics “incomplete,” Garver's intention is not so much to reconcile Aristotle's thinking with the basic problem of multiplicity as to affirm that the Politics can be seen as part of the political philosophical project of living well. For Garver the incomplete character of the polis is not a damning indictment of the relationship between ethics and the commons (koinon). Unlike in the Ethics, where a single good life is defined (and all others dismissed), in the Politics, Aristotle presupposes plural constitutional arrangements: These “disagreements and errors generate the variety of constitutions, including good constitutions…. There is no ambiguity for Aristotle in the question of… the good life,… but from book 3 on, the Politics exploits the ambiguity in how good a good constitution must be” (70).From here out, Garver's text largely oscillates between varied forms of description: political, philosophical, and even at times rhetorical. But these descriptions imagine only a certain kind of statesman as their audience—perhaps even a certain kind of esoteric thinker. In chapter 3, Garver runs into the problem of political definition—or put differently, what he calls the basic “incompleteness of the normative” in the reading of Politics 3 (66–106). It is Aristotle's unique genius that he is able to smooth the discrepancies in form and function between constitutions, highlighted in Politics 3 and 4, into a justification for political philosophy (69–70; 73–76; 92). A certain form of thinking on political deliberation follows once the analysis of constitutions is wrested from the singular focus of the good ethical life (70). “Political philosophy can occur in the rest of the Politics once Book III has freed space for deliberation by showing how constitutional form has no natural or inevitable ties” to the other causes or ends of poleis (73). Such a statement allows Garver to retroactively intervene into the debate over what constitutes good constitutions in the plural. “The three true constitutions, monarchy, aristocracy, and ‘polity,’ have the same end, the good life. Yet they are different constitutions” (74; see 73–76). But it does not allow us to intervene into the question of the good life—and it only obliquely allows us access to a discussion of the good polis. The discussion of good constitutions thus thinks “a different kind of incompleteness,” namely, “the indeterminacy within each formula” of constitutions (91; see also 83–97). For Aristotle, both good and bad constitutions share a similar principle or “formula of justice.” They do so because Aristotle separates “two independent variables, who rules and for whom, while in the Republic those two were tied together” (85; see also 79–83). In the case of political communities, then, form (of the constitution) does not immediately line up with function (the good life of citizens); they are defined by cross-reference, not through a single or ultimate reference (77, 93). Crucially, it is both possible and necessary that the polis achieve a dignity that is separate from and that ranks above the dignity of its citizens.There is some slippage occurring here between polis, citizen, and constitution, and Garver highlights this slippage to guide us toward political philosophy (92–97). These slippages begin with the comparison of political and despotic natures and continue in the movement from the citizen to the constitution. The effect of such slippages is perennial problems for understanding the relation of rhetoric to politics. For Garver, political philosophy appears a preferable substitute to trying to sort out this relationship, satisfying the need for judgment (phronesis) while providing a way to think about the practical distinctions between good and bad constitutions in conditions where we live with “the impossibility of directly enacting the good” (97). What Garver calls the “politicization” of politics in book 3 turns out to be the study not of citizens and their virtues (or vices) but of poleis and their limited principles of justice. This is because it is the relationship between rule and principle that defines a polis rather than the relative virtue or vice of citizens (77–80). Indeed, citizenship is not, in the final examination, a question of virtue: “The purpose of citizenship surprisingly has nothing to do with the purpose of man and of the state, to live well. The function of citizens is to preserve the constitution” (80). Garver thus ties political theory to political philosophy by highlighting politics' artificial rather than natural means: it is “primarily aporetic and formal. It clears space for deliberation and makes politics autonomous” (105).To wit: “Politics III is political philosophy, carefully keeping to what political philosophy can achieve, and leaving to statesmen what is appropriate for statesmen” (103). The autonomy of politics seems prestructured by Garver's conception of political philosophy as “deliberation over the forms and functions of government” (70). Political philosophy also prefigures the rhetorical praxis of the statesmen, which Garver sees as the practical usage of reflections leading statesmen to both formulate actions and engage in persuasion. “The Politics presents dialectical arguments; in particular circumstances they become rhetorical arguments that require political, not philosophical, judgment” (104). This judgment will call for repackaging the framework of rhetorical persuasion. Garver's framing highlights for readers the obvious difficulty of reconciling philosophical with political being in many the aim of Aristotle's Politics. Garver's reading a between three forms of first, second, persuasion. in these is how Garver the relationship between political philosophy understood as a only the of the statesman and rhetoric understood as a not just the but also the judgment of the practical becomes the method by which the of phronesis in the with the inherent in the nature of politics. Politics the of or but of these those are the proper toward which the statesman and in that they are of constitutions see also Garver reads Aristotle as those constitutions that elements of and this allows the statesman to the basic of the political made by and becomes good not because of the of its which are constitutions, but because of the practical of the the Here, the of political constitutions becomes the of the statesman in political philosophy rather than the of the citizen or judge discussion of Politics the from the to the There is a between the practical of the and the practical of the Garver thus argues that political philosophy, and not rhetoric nothing of or the modern critique of Garver this framing of phronesis as it still citizens to be rather than This framing the need for a of the citizen in the phronesis is a justification for only to has nothing to to the no about they as a nothing to about the under which they to the constitution” see also Politics The that politics takes in the between and from the Politics' of Garver's discussions only this the on and the of the constitutional form and of the statesman rather than the of the of this be given Garver's description of the aims of the Politics. Yet a framing of the polis focus on the natures of those who live in its name is to as rhetorical. But Garver's emphasis on political than a from philosophy to á la the for the of by political philosophy, the statesman in the project of the constitution in a way to the of from which the Platonic critique of the ground Here, Garver the Rhetoric and argues for a relation of between the statesman and But the statesman is as he has a of the behind constitutions that Garver argues the does is for the of rhetoric is only the for a of The that his but cannot more he cannot do to the between the of the means of and seems to have by political philosophy rather than of political life. Garver notes that in book of the Rhetoric, here the statesman to understand constitutional occur and they do to Garver, has no in the but see is a way to imagine through Garver's reading a between the actions of the statesman guided by political philosophy and those of a guided by rhetorical while the is and the seems even This is made by But in 3 through political philosophy is by in such a way as to make it that to it political tied to internal Political philosophy seems a then, for the ruler to become as as But it is as distinct from rhetorical become when fully their nature as political animals” is not to that Garver the nature of the ruled But the political and ethical nature of the citizens is in to be of the of a statesman guided by political philosophy. Indeed, the of the polis to be a relative for the This is in by the to the political virtue for Garver makes this claim the of the must master the of statesman must make it appear the he in the constitution is a of and rather than In chapter Garver notes the of the statesman of the of and These are in the definition of political virtue, which over and above constitutional form of its and that is a political virtue and that the of the of particular constitution” becomes the a education in political philosophy to the to preserve and the political For Garver, political virtue for the state rather than Such an turns on the of the statesman to his citizens that politics is to and not to the of or final chapter that what constitutes the regime will be the of the question political philosophy, in be This is in the Politics as the life of and not the life of the or the life of this the philosophical life, of its of see becomes the of through the common life Yet it must be that is of rhetorical Political philosophy virtuous with that political philosophy, can at their common the virtue of those virtues are the common life appears in a different than the of the rhetorical by the discussion of forms of Here, phronesis becomes from it is a form of in which Aristotle bare the structure of political as it the absolute reading from and constitutional form in order to at a of what as the These discussions will be into ethical arguments by the statesman and made through rhetorical forms of Such forms will be by nature, both in their appeals to constitutional and in their definition of political virtue. The Politics the of on the who has in and through political philosophy. Garver thus reads a impressive theory of political structure an satisfying theory of political desire or political In what then, do political philosophy and rhetoric in Garver's reading of The and is that they to not they exist here in a seems to become and and Garver's reading Political philosophy thus not just as a concept but a internal to Garver's it possible rhetorical by which politics may be within the framework of This seems to have something to do with the Politics' for the statesman over the citizen, for the over the and the over the Garver's discussion of and expresses the different conceptual aims of political philosophy and The of in Garver's analysis of the Politics thus appears as a by the of political philosophy that Garver's impressive reading

Although much has been written about ancient rhetorical theories of example, few scholars have examined the subtypes of example contained in these ancient rhetorical theories. As a corrective to this scholarly blind spot, this article explores the lesser-known conceptual history of “comparison,” which Aristotle, Cicero, and Quintilian all theorize as a subtype of example. Taken together, their rhetorical theories suggest that arguments by comparison are hypothetical, contentious, indirect, interrogative, and frequently deceptive. Moreover, Aristotle, Cicero, and Quintilian all theorize comparison by calling attention to the persuasive artistry of Socrates, notably his use of arguments by comparison to provoke interlocutors without challenging them directly. Understanding and explaining these rhetorical theories of comparison is the primary task of this article.

This paper presents an application of stasis theory for the purpose of consulting with interdisciplinary teams of scientists working in the early stages of composing a science policy advisory document. By showing that stasis theory can be used as an organizing conceptual tool, we demonstrate how cooperative and organized question-asking practices calm complex interdisciplinary scientific disputations in order to propel productive science policy work. We believe that the conceptual structure of stasis theory motivates scientists to shift their viewpoints from solitary expert specialists toward that of allied policy guides for their advisory document's reader. We further argue that, through the use of stasis theory, technical writers can aid interdisciplinary scientists in policy writing processes, thus fostering transdisciplinary collaboration.

The death of philosopher and public intellectual Jacques Derrida drew international attention and generated public acts of mourning in the media. Several of the published obituaries for Derrida are notable for their overtly hostile and dismissive tone. This essay explores the genre of epideictic rhetoric and is grounded in Derrida’s work on mourning, analyzing several instances of “uncivil” epideictic rhetoric including three hostile obituaries and several responses to them written by friends and colleagues of Derrida for the insight that they yield regarding ethical public remembrance. We argue that a sincere engagement with the ideas of the dead, while always incomplete, is at the heart of an ethical, civil mourning.

Reviews 197 Walker completes his work with a subtle admonition coupled with a call to return to what has worked and what matters—an Isocratean model of training rhetors that eschews the place of impractical (high) theory (p. 280). While it's nearly impossible to pin down the most significant contribu­ tion from The Genuine Teaehers of This Art, Walker's opus goes a long way to resolve what Alan Gross has termed the "historical discontinuity" of the rhetoiical tradition, which results from what George Kennedy labels the technical, sophistic," and "philosophic" traditions by arguing at least in the Isocratean model, a tradition rooted in pedagogy, the tripartite distinction is a false one-all three coexisted happily and, importantly, effectively (Gross, pp. 32-33).' After all, as Walker not so subtly reminds us, "what makes rhetoric rhetoric is its teaching tradition, its function as an 'art of producing rhetors'" (p. 285). Kathleen Lamp Arizona State University Francesco Berardi, La dottrina dell'evidenza nella tradizione retorica greca e latina (Papers on Rhetoric. Monographs 3), Perugia: Editrice zzPliniana ", 2012, 242 pp., ISBN 978-88-97830-01-6 L'esigenza di una nuova monografía dedicata al tema studiatissimo dell'evidenza è opportunamente giustificata da Francesco Berardi (di seguito F. B.), che rileva due prospettive altrettanto parziali nella cospicua bibliografía sull'argomento: l'una, critico-letteraria, incentrata sulla tradi­ zione alessandrina; l'altra, tecnico-retorica, frammentata nelle tassonomie polimorfe ed eterogenee dei manuali greci e latini. Scopo del volume è dunque fare ordine in questa complessa tradizione e classificare le diverse forme dell'evidenza secondo le rispettive funzioni, seguendo il modo in cui sono state concepite e si sono quindi sviluppate nella precettistica antica (pp. 11-17). La distinzione terminológica preliminare tra ¿vspyaa, vivificazione del messaggio attraverso l'uso di metafore e similitudini che animano referenti inanimati, ed ¿vápyeia, evidenza pittorica realizzata mediante l'arcumulo di descrizioni denotative (pp. 19-39), permette di comprendere perché l'evidenza sia considerata virtù fondamentale della narrazione, improntata a descrizioni minuziose e realistiche. Ribaltando la communis opinio sulla base di una cronología rigorosa, F.B. dimostra come questo apporte giunga alia ]Alan G. Gross, "The Rhetorical Tradition," in Richard Graff, Arthur E Walzer, Janet M. Atwill, eds. The Viability ofthe Rhetorical Tradition (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2005). See also, George Kennedy. Classical Rhetoric and Its Christian and Secular Tradition (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1980). 198 RHETORICA retorica dalle teorie poetiche e storiografiche, e non vice versa (pp. 41-49). Nel quadro dello stile semplice e disadorno, tale forma di evidenza pud trasformarsi, da semplice virtú narrativa deWinuentio, in qualité specifica delYelocutio. Questo processo tende poi a estendersi, al punto che, adop­ tando la dottrina dell'ornato stilistico e della figura-lumen, nelle Partitiones oratoriae Cicerone avrebbe per primo elevato chiarezza, brevità, crédibilité, evidenza, etopea e decoro al rango di parametri principali del discorso ora­ torio. Con Dionigi di Alicarnasso e Quintiliano questa evidenza si sarebbe ulteriormente connotata come frutto della collaborazione del destinatario del messaggio alla costruzione dell'illusione visiva (pp. 51-73). Infine, dallo schema accademico delle uirtutes elocutionis è probabile che sia germogliata la teoria delle categorie stilistiche (lôéoei) ove, nella prospettiva degli esiti finali dell'effetto visivo, l'evidenza è intesa essenzialmente come vigore espressivo funzionale alla purezza, alla bellezza, allô splendore, ecc. (pp. 75-88). E B. circoscrive a ragione tutti questi ambiti della dottrina retorica alio studio dell'evidenza corne effetto e li distingue dai casi in cui essa è causa di una rappresentazione mentale subordinata alla mozione degli affetti o all'ornato stilistico. Dopo aver ricordato i legami cognitivi tra cpavTaaioc e tolOoç secondo Aristotele e Quintiliano, E B. ricostruisce con grande precisione il ruolo delle circostanze (wpewpew), intese come forma più po­ tente di argomentazione e progressivamente adottate ai fini dell'amplificatio nell'esercizio di scrittura definito xoivôç tôtcoç dai progymnasmata. Poiché riguarda fatti gié accertati, quest'ultimo si colloca dopo la dimostrazione e tende dunque a corrispondere alla perorazione finale di un discorso. E B. istituisce cosí una convergenza tra i due settori, distinti dai fatto che, a differenza di quanto accade ne! zluogo comune', Pepilogo di un'orazione riguarda sempre...

204 RHETORICA on the value for the human sciences of "contested concepts" and the endless debate which must go on around them. This collection provides models of different ways of studying the fas­ cinating parallelism between medicine and rhetoric. It shows how rhetorical knowledge can enhance our understanding of early modern medical and health-related works and it offers engaging readings of some very interesting little-known texts. Peter Mack Warburg Institute, London Patricia Pender, Early Modern Women's Writing and the Rhetoric of Modesty (Early Modern Literature in History, eds. Cedric C. Brown and Andrew Hadfield), New York: Palgrave/MacMillan, 2012. 218 pp., ISBN: 978-0-230-36224-6 In Early Modern Women's Writing and the Rhetoric of Modesty, Patricia Pender argues that the modesty topos frequent in early modern English women's works should not be read literally, but as "the very mark of liter­ ariness" and "early modern women's subtle and strategic self-fashioning" (3). In the introduction, Pender surveys earlier feminist criticism on modesty topoi that used this material to explain women's lower rate of publication, and argues that these critics have read the passages too literally, and, as a consequence, that we continue "to underrate [early modern women's] con­ siderable rhetorical ability and agency" (6). Pender's study reviews the use of modesty topoi in prefaces and writings by English authors Anne Askew, Katherine Parr, Mary Sidney, Aemilia Lanyer, and Anne Bradstreet, and also examines what Pender sees as a general tendency "to read women's modesty tropes autobiographically" (7). Chapter 1 surveys advice for the deployment of modesty topoi in classi­ cal and Renaissance rhetorics: Cicero, Quintilian, Ad Herennium, Castiglione, George Puttenham, Abraham Fraunce, and John Hoskins. Especially helpful is the summary (pp. 22-24) of the flexible and varied forms of this rhetorical strategy: disavowal of authorship, remorse, belittling the achievement, lack of time for writing, writing only at the behest of another, role of compiler not author, apology citing utility of the subject, and, in general, writers' discounting of their abilities. Pender links the use of the modesty topos to early modern understanding of figures as "dissimulation" (borrowing from Puttenham) and early modern anxiety about "women's innate duplicity" (34). Pender, whose background is English literature not history of rhetoric, convincingly argues that for women, as well as for men, avowing modesty is often not an apology, but rather a display of rhetorical proficiency. In Chapter 2 Pender quite brilliantly uses John Bale's editing of Anne Askew s Examinations as an example of the emphasis on "collaborative co- Reviews 205 authorship (al) in the early modern history of the book. However, in­ stead of seeing Bale as supporting Askew's purpose, Pender searches for those places where Askew's words "exceed the frame that Bale provides for them, finding that Askew offers a "profoundly confident and combative self-representation under the guise of weak and humble woman" (49). This conclusion is not news in Askew criticism, although reading Askew through the rhetoric of modesty is innovative and helpful. It is disappointing that Pender did not follow through, though, on her initial observation. For ex­ ample, she argues that Bale misunderstands Askew's rhetoric of modesty (complimenting judges, humble submission, quoting authority) to circum­ vent her accusers (60-61), that Bale himself is misled by Askew's modesty into reading her as a weak woman made strong by God's grace (59-60): "[wjhan she semed most feble, than was she most stronge. And gladly she rejoiced in that weaknesse, that Christ's power myght strongelye dwell in her" (61). Here is a missed opportunity to argue, instead, for collaborative coathorship, to see that Bale does understand Askew, recognizing her wily use of Paul's celebration of the weak and foolish made strong and wise by Christ (1 Corinthians 1:27—a celebration that Erasmus had famously deployed in The Praise of Folly). In Chapter 3, Pender suggests that focusing on modesty rhetoric in Katherine Parr's Prayers or Medytacions refines "our understanding of her development of a degendered, generically-human speaking subject" (72). But, suggests Pender, although Parr does not apologize for her sex, substi­ tuting the...

Reviews Walker, Jeffrey. The Genuine Teachers ofThis Art. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2011.356 pp., ISBN: 978-1-61117-016-0 Walker s 1 he Genuine Tenehers of This Art takes its title from a line in Cicero s De orntore in which Antonius attempts to delineate "inexperienced teachers ' who do not train rhetors like Aristotle from sophists like Isocrates who train skilled speakers (pp. 5,44). The title line frames the major argument of the book—that training rhetors, that is, teaching is the unifying element of rhetoric that brings together strains of "discourse, practices, analysis, [and] teaching" (p.l). Walker claims scholars of rhetoric have much overlooked the "school masters." His attempt to correct this omission establishes Isocrates as the founder of the sophistic paideia, which Walker traces from the fourth century BCE, through the Hellenistic period and stasis theory, the late Repub­ lic in Cicero's De orntore, and finally into the Second Sophistic in the works of Dionysius of Halicarnassus. Through this pedagogical history, Walker ar­ gues, that for Isocrates the "handbook" (teehne) and sophistic traditions were one, effectivelv decentering the "philosophic" tradition. There are too manv high points in The Genuine Teachers of This Art, particularly' for scholars of the history of rhetoric and teachers of rhetoric and composition, to summarize here but permit me to try to touch on a few. Walker's first chapter, a (counter) reading of Cicero's De orntore, begins by classifying Aristotle's rhetoric as primarily interested in "judgment and theory" as opposed to "civic deliberation" and therefore largely outside the realm of training rhetors (pp. 19, 22). Walker makes a brief but interesting argument that Antonius' topics are not from Aristotle but rather are closer to Isocrates' ideai, arguing Aristotle is primarily referenced for the sake of authority (pp. 23, 30-1, 48). Ultimately, Walker argues what Cicero's Crassus and Antonius finally agree on—broad experience—is fundamentally Isocratean (pp. 41, 53, 56). The claim that "there was a teehne of Isocrates, and that it probably was the ancestor of the later sophistic technai” concludes Walker's second chapter (p 90). In order to advance the possibility of an Isocratean teehne, Walker must refute several lines of argument prevalent in the field, specifically that if Isocrates did write a teehne, it was more likely a collection of example speeches, that the teehne attributed to Isocrates was written by a "younger Rhetorica, Vol. XXXII, Issue 2, pp. 195-211, ISSN 0734-8584, electronic ISSN 15338541 . C2014 by The International Society for the History of Rhetoric. All rights re­ served. Please direct all requests for permission to photocopy or reproduce article content through the University of California Press's Rights and Permissions website, at http://www.ucpressjournals.com/reprintlnfo.asp. DOI: 10.1525/RH.2014.32.2.195. 196 RHETORICA Isocrates/' and that it was against Isocrates' own philosophy to write a handbook of precepts. These lines of argument, predominantly advanced by Karl Barwick, though fairly broadly accepted, are refuted by Walker at length, in part, by using parallel case based on other sophistic technai and, most interestingly, by suggesting two definitions of techne, which Walker distinguishes with a subscript to differentiate a non-creative, rule driven art with a more or less guaranteed product from a creative, methodological driven art with the possibility of a successful outcome produced by a skilled practitioner (pp. 63-75). The following chapter takes in an in-depth look at what a techne of Isocrates might have looked like with Walker concluding that the techne likely had two main parts, "the pragmatikos topos [concerned with inquiry and invention] and the lektikos topos [concerned with style] and possibly ... an organized set of progymnasmata" (p. 154). While many of Walker's conclusions in this chapter suggest the techne probably looked similar to the Rhetoric to Alexander, this third chapter is a fascinating look inside Isocrates' pedagogy. These two chapters on Isocrates are likely the most controversial in the book, and while Walker admits he has offered no "irrefutable" evidence of a techne of Isocrates, he does marshal a persuasive case based on available evidence, however scant. The Fourth Chapter, "In the Garden of...

Although much has been written about ancient rhetorical theories of example, few scholars have examined the subtypes of example contained in these ancient rhetorical theories. As a corrective to this scholarly blind spot, this article explores the lesser-known conceptual history of "comparison," which Aristotle, Cicero, and Quintilian all theorize as a subtype of example. Taken together, their rhetorical theories suggest that arguments by comparison are hypothetical, contentious, indirect, interrogative, and frequently deceptive. Moreover, Aristotle, Cicero, and Quintilian all theorize comparison by calling attention to the persuasive artistry of Socrates, notably his use of arguments by comparison to provoke interlocutors without challenging them directly. Understanding and explaining these rhetorical theories of comparison is the primary task of this article.

Reviews 207 some women to break the written silence of earlier times"(Travitsky, xviii). How much more accurate would Pender's introduction have been, had she used the modesty trope of conversation instead of the combative figure of the crow. Jane Donawerth University ofMaryland Lois Peters Agnew, Thomas De Quincey: British Rhetoric's Romantic Turn, Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 2012. 165 pp., ISBN: 978-0-8043-3148-2 Although rhetoricians often stress the lack of innovation in early nine­ teenth-century rhetorical theory and practice, Lois Agnew shows through the case of Romantic author Thomas De Quincey that rhetoric was still a ver­ satile resource for literary authors in the period. De Quincey, best known for Confessions of an English Opium-Eater (1822), redefines rhetoric as "a detached investigation of multiple perspectives" (p. 10), and Agnew examines his mul­ tifaceted theory and practice in her monograph. Extending her conclusion from Outward, Visible Propriety (2008), Agnew approaches De Quincey as an example of "rhetoric's transition to the modern era" from a unifying civic discourse to varied arts of style (p. 1). In this monograph, she builds on Jason Camlot's argument that "a previously coherent tradition of prag­ matic rhetoric is ... redistributed into the diverse localized sites of individual [nineteenth-century] periodicals" and traces how De Quincey revises the the­ ory and practice of rhetoric in his career as a magazine contributor? Because De Quincey demonstrates that rhetoric "need not be connected to practical decision making," Agnew argues that he reinvents rhetoric for the modern world as a form of intellectual inquiry and multiperspectival display (p. 15). For Agnew, De Quincey is a rhetorician because he treats writing as social interaction even though he divorces rhetoric from political ends: His "perspective on language and public life is grounded in classical rhetorical traditions, yet radically distinct from those traditions in ways that reflect his attention to the cultural circumstances in which he finds himself" (p. 2). De Quincey, according to Agnew, synthesizes classical rhetoric, eighteenthcentury Scottish rhetorics, and Romantic poetics. Because he combines tradi­ tions to create an art of rhetoric that orchestrates multiple perspectives, Ag­ new compares De Quincey's "dialogic" rhetoric to the theories of twentiethcentury literary critic Mikhail Bakhtin. Like Bakhtin's ideal novelist, De Quincey "produces a vision of rhetoric ... in which the speaker/writer interacts constantly with listeners who hold differing points of view and 1 J- Camlot, Style and the Nineteenth-Century British Critic: Sincere Mannerisms (Aldershot, England: Ashgate, 2008), 14. 208 RHETORICA imaginatively integrates those perspectives" (p. 13). De Quincey anticipates the multivocal techniques of Victorian fiction when he extends rhetoric to the interplay of multiple perspectives in early nineteenth-century Britain. In the first chapter, Agnew introduces De Quincey and the Romantic era to rhetoricians. She makes a convincing case for the ubiquity and utility of rhetoric in this period: Not only was rhetoric an available resource for classically-educated authors, but they also needed rhetoric to respond to new audiences, publishing practices, and political situations. Agnew recounts elements of De Quincey's life that are familiar to Romanticists, like his piecemeal education, opium addiction, and tense relationship with William Wordsworth, and explains that De Quincey responds to a society "embroiled in the conflicting impulses of market-driven production and intellectual play" (p. 41). The instabilities of early nineteenth-century British society demanded a rhetorical approach to authorship and a reconsideration of rhetoric's functions, and De Quincey's life and writing exemplify these changes. In the next three chapters, Agnew examines De Quincey's "dialogic" rhetoric. She "track[s] key themes that emerge through the course of De Quincey's writings," including an embrace of open, philosophical questions over limited, political cases; an emphasis on the "eddying of thoughts" over the communication of facts; and a conversational dynamic that makes readers fellow participants in the discourse (p. 103). Agnew recovers his rhetorical theory from scattered, occasional essays like a review of Whatley's Elements ofRhetoric (1828), "Style" (1840), and "On Language" (1847). While De Quincey performs what he theorizes in these pieces, Agnew applies his theories to famous works such as;Confessions. For example, he "creates a narrative in which the...

200 RHETORICA in un determinato ámbito della precettistica retorica, collegando le finalitá e i procedimenti espressivi che le sono propri e non altri (pp- 212—213 n. 814). Alessandro Garcea Paris Jane Donawerth, Conversational Rhetoric: The Rise and Pall ofa Women's Tradition, 1600-1900. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 2012. xi-xv +205 pp., ISBN: 978-0-8093-8630-7 In her introduction, Jane Donawerth identifies the research gap that her new book seeks to address. Over the past thirty years, historians have inves­ tigated women's involvement in rhetorical theory in terms of its absence— "why there wasn't any" (p. 2). Furthermore, much of the conversation has tended to underscore rhetorical practices and not rhetorical theories. Don­ awerth asserts that scholars need to ask new questions: "How did women theorize communication, and if they did not do it in rhetoric and composition textbooks, where did they do it" (p. 2). Women theorized rhetoric based on their gendered experiences and on the genres that they were reading. Thus, women's rhetorical theory has centered on conversation—not oratory—as the basis for all discourse. In significant ways, Donawerth's book extends and complements her 2002 anthology, Rhetorical Theory by Women before 1900, which made avail­ able to scholars, teachers, and students extensive primary texts of women's rhetorical theory. Her new book builds on this collection by including an analysis of conversation as an important tradition in women's rhetorical the­ ory. In addition, she incorporates new women, particularly those defending women's right to preach, and she provides more analysis of the historical context and its influence in shaping this aspect of women's rhetoric. To construct her argument, Donawerth examines women's rhetorical theory from a variety of sources, including humanist works defending women's education, conduct books, defenses of women's preaching, and elocution manuals. In so doing, she introduces readers to the works of various women theorists during this three-hundred-year span. However, she contends that in the 1850s, when women started writing composition and rhetoric textbooks for male as well as female students, these "theo­ ries of conversation-based discourse gradually disappeared, or rather, were absorbed into composition pedagogy" (p. 2). To theorize rhetoric in this way, in her introduction Donawerth clarifies that she defines rhetorical theory as "writing about the nature and means of communication" (p. 7). She also situates her argument, outlines her historical method, and explains how she defines other terms relevant to her study. With its detailed framing of Donawerth's argument, the introduction should be helpful to those just beginning to navigate the field and to engage in these Reviews 201 discussion. Donawerth s book and several mentioned in her introduction are from the Studies in Rhetorics and Feminisms series, which demonstrates the significant scholarly contribution this series has made. Given the constraints of this review, I will focus on the first and fourth chapters since they feature a sampling of the diverse texts examined, and the fourth chapter aligns with some of my research interests. Chapter 1 provides a start for the book's focus by analyzing women's theorizing of conversation in humanist dialogues and defenses of women's education during the seven­ teenth century. It does so by examining the writing of Madeleine de Scudéry, Margaret Cavendish, Bathsua Makin, and Mary Astell. During this period, humanist and classical rhetorical education were available only for men; however, there were some "exceptional women" who managed to receive such training (p. 19). With this education, these women fashioned theories of communication, and they published in humanist genres, including "dia­ logues, epistles, print orations, and encyclopedias" (p. 19). Donawerth argues that these four women theorists "radically revised classical rhetoric by cen­ tering their theories on conversation rather than public speech" (p. 39). In so doing, they challenged some of the limits conventionally associated with gendered discourse of this period. in chapter four, Donawerth contends that sentimental culture, associ­ ated with "the public display of emotion" and with women, found its perfect outlet in elocution (p. 105). The chapter investigates the ways nineteenthcenturv elocution manuals incorporated into this tradition of conversation "a theoretical consideration of women's bodies...

202 RHETORICA mainstream composition studies, especially in the model of conversation for pedagogy" (p. 127). Examples of an exception as well as this merging are explored in texts by women such as Mary Augusta Jordan and Gertrude Buck, respectively. As noted, the conclusion argues that the tradition s de­ cline is linked to women starting to write rhetoric and composition textbooks for mixed-gender audiences. I would have liked to see more discussion of this claim, particularly related to the discussion of Buck. For instance, Buck's texts emerged directly from the all-women classes she taught at Vassar Col­ lege, and many examples in her books are targeted specifically at women. Although Buck's case may have been atypical, perhaps these differences could have been explored. In addressing new questions related to women's theorizing of rhetoric, Conversational Rhetoric is to be commended for enacting the new directions that historians and feminist scholars in the field have urged (Royster and Kirsch 2012; Gold 2012). In so doing, it illuminates a significant tradition of women theorizing conversation and introduces us to women with whom we may be unfamiliar. The book also suggests the need to investigate other examples of how women have theorized conversation and other potential ways that women have conceptualized communication. In spanning three hundred years and investigating such a wide array of texts, the book also is exemplary in terms of the breadth and depth that Donawerth brings to such an analysis. Suzanne Bordelon San Diego State University Stephen Pender and Nancy Struever eds, Rhetoric and Medicine in Early Modern Europe, Farnham: Ashgate, 2012, ix, 299 pp., ISBN: 9781 -4094-3022-6 Rhetoric and Medicine have been compared since antiquity. Both are eminently practical arts, requiring their practitioners to work with the vari­ ability of human experience, on the basis of a growing but still contestable body of theory. Both are intimately concerned with persuasion and with the emotions. Rhetoric and Medicine in Early Modern Europe is a collection of ten essays, introduction and afterword, based on panels from the 2003 annual meeting of the Renaissance Society of America. This is a thought-provoking collection, including some excellent essays, which explores the relations be­ tween medicine and rhetoric from many different points of view and in relation to a range of different types of subject-matter. Stephen Pender in­ troduces the collection with an analysis of the physician's different needs for persuasion (rational and emotional). His own essay "Between Medicine and Rhetoric (revised from his 2005 article in Early Science and MLedicine} surveys the relations between rhetoric and the art of medicine in Plato's Phaedrus and Reviews 203 Gorgias, Aristotle s Rhetoric and the early modern English physician John Cotta's A Short Discoverie of the Unobserved Dangers ofSeverall Sorts ofIgnorant and Unconsiderate Practisers of Physicke in England (1612). Focusing on the uncertainty of medical diagnosis and treatment enables Cotta to align the physician's pragmatic flexibility with the prudence of the orator: "a practical, prudential interpretation of probable signs directed toward intervention.. .is at the heart of medical practice" (p. 59). Jean Dietz Moss analyses five local physician's descriptions of the health­ giving properties of the waters of Bath, which aimed to promote the attrac­ tions of the spa, written between 1572 and 1697. She analyses the rhetori­ cal techniques employed by these publicists, discussing their deployment of narratives, authorities and evidence in order to extol the divinely pro­ vided health-giving properties of the spa. Richard Sugg analyses the use of the metaphor of anatomy in a range of sixteenth and seventtenth-century titles. Andrea Carlino resituates Andreas Vesalius within the humanist mi­ lieu of 1540s Padua and particularly within the Accademia degli Infiammati. He argues that the title of Vesalius's famous work De humani corporis fab­ rica libri septeni (1543) alludes through the word fabrica both to Cicero's De natnra deorum and to architectural works such as Sebastiano Serlio's Sette libri d'Architettnra. He documents Vesalius's connections with members of the Accademia degli infiammati, including a letter to Benedetto Varchi in which he mentions the recent publication of Daniele Barbaro's commentary on Aristotle's Rhetoric. He...

El 13 de julio de 1556 moría Philibert de Rye, obispo de Ginebra. Un grupo de eruditos relacionados con la Universidad de Dola le tributóun homenaje literario, entre cuyos textos destacamos una elegía dialogada, desarrollada en dísticos elegíacos, obra del humanista Antonio Llull, texto que no recoge ninguno de los repertorios de la producción de este tratadista mallorquín. En este artículo estudiaremos este poema por primera vez, tanto en lo referente a sus fuentes y sus antecedentes literarios, como a la luz de los tratados de Llull Progymnasmata rhetorica (1550/1551/1572) y De oratione libri septem (1558).

In 1988, one of those scenes at which a student of philosophy would yearn to be present took place in a Heidelberg pub. Hans-Georg Gadamer met with Jean Grondin, who was already at work on his brilliant biography of the philosopher, for some conversation and, one trusts, a glass or two of that Rhenish Gadamer greatly loved. The encounter may put us in mind of those brilliant anecdotes that introduce and frame many of the dialogues of Gadamer's beloved Plato. But there is also a touch of the way James Boswell so artfully provoked Samuel Johnson into some of his most telling and memorable utterances. Many philosophers have difficulty appreciating such moments. They prefer clear ideas articulated in coherent arguments. But for a literary critic or anyone with a feel for drama, such moments not only express ideas but situate them in their human context in a way that bare argument can rarely do.The scene itself—dialogue embedded in social conviviality (in vino veritas)—incarnates Gadamer's philosophy perfectly. Grondin reports that he asked Gadamer a question—not “small talk,” but a very philosophic question indeed, as deep as those questions that arise in the most everyday circumstances among Socrates and his young friends. It may not be going too far to suggest that for Gadamer, real thinking is only possible between friends—those “friends for truth's sake” that Plato speaks of. Gadamer himself refers to Aristotle's syngnome and remarks that “only friends can advise each other” (1989, 323). Grondin's question was, on what does the universality of hermeneutics rest? Gadamer did not reply immediately. Instead, he paused to think for a moment. Gadamer was not simply answering but answering for his philosophy, and the pause for thought shows that a real dialectic was taking place, a mutual opening to a truth that never shows itself as merely received or repeated.In contrast to a politician who sticks to his talking points, Gadamer did not, as we might have expected, respond by referring to one of the key concepts from his writings—speaking, say, of dialogue or question and answer or “consciousness effected by history” (“wirkungeschichtliches Bewusstsein”), or tradition. Rather, he responded by saying that the universality of hermeneutics lay in “the interior word.” In his biography, Grondin registers his own surprise at this answer. He certainly knew that Gadamer had spoken of this concept in a few dense and important pages toward the end of Truth and Method and not infrequently in later essays, but presumably he had not realized that it was so central in Gadamer's thinking. And indeed every really good answer to a question is at once familiar and surprising and at the same time “right” in a very precise way (Johnson famously defined “wit” as saying something no one had quite thought before but in so clear and striking a way that its correctness seems self-evident). This is an answer's power to provoke fresh thinking and put things in a new light.Having put the clue into our hands, Gadamer did not elaborate but left it to his interlocutor (and through him us) to take up this provocative remark. All the more welcome, therefore, is John Arthos's important book The Inner Word in Gadamer's Hermeneutics. Arthos provides as comprehensive and detailed an account as one might hope for. After setting the stage with a brief introduction, Arthos examines the texts and thinkers Gadamer draws on in his discussion of language: chapters on Judeo-Christian and Greco-Roman reflections on language and the key doctrines of immanence and transcendence in the Trinity are followed by chapters on Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, Hegel, and Heidegger. Arthos is not simply documenting Gadamer's sources. Certainly, he is guided by the specific issue Gadamer centers on. But provoked by Gadamer, he reopens the very dialogue with tradition that constitutes Gadamer's path to his own insights. This is methodologically correct—profoundly so. It not only illuminates the thinking behind Gadamer's very condensed discussion but also opens our ears to whatever more tradition may say to us in this fruitfully circular interchange that now includes Arthos and through him ourselves.To my mind, the most productive of these rethinkings is the chapter on Aquinas, which turns out to be just as much about Augustine. An invaluable bonus is that Arthos includes as appendices the Latin text and his own English translation of Aquinas's two short treatises De natura verbi intellectus and De differentia, which Gadamer follows closely and which have previously been inaccessible to readers with little or no Latin. In these appendices, Arthos for his reader's convenience even underlines the words in the Latin text that Gadamer directly quotes. Scholars question whether these treatises are by Aquinas, though Gadamer thought them authentic. In any case, the conversation with Aquinas supports Gadamer's pursuit of his insight that “the formation of the word is not reflexive. For the word does not at all express the mind, but rather, the thing meant” (1989, 426). Thinking about language is thus liberated from the framework of the subject-object dichotomy that makes possible the achievements of modern philosophy but also persists as an insoluble problem. Language is not an instrument created by subjectivity to express its ideas in signifiers that have only an arbitrary relation to signifieds. I think there is a convergence here with Wittgenstein's critique of private language. The ontological status of the word and its relation both to mind and world need to be understood in a new way.Arthos goes beyond Gadamer's specific focus on Aquinas's thought by working out more fully and very subtly a special kind of reflexivity, which he terms “inherent reflexivity,” that keeps the word related to the self but not subordinated to it. He introduces Augustine's use of the mirror to suggest this peculiar reflexivity in which the human being is object (“image”), reflecting surface (“mirror”), and subject (“viewer”) in its own trinity. Even though the mind is not grasping itself in a self-conscious way, it “never does not understand itself, never does not love itself” (1991, 386). Aquinas goes further when he argues that human beings “reflect” God by being like him: according to Arthos, “This means that the image cannot be understood statically or as an object, but as an active imitation” (149). There is a “mutual transformation of being” in the relation of mind and object (150). St. Paul speaks of a mirror but of seeing in a mirror darkly. Thus, Arthos argues, “the Thomist reflexivity of intellect is not a perception or insight of a fixed and whole subject, but an active, transformative process” (153). Instead of a second-order activity of “looking at ourselves thinking,” this inherent reflexivity is “our very being in the world, the circuitous way that we understand” (155). Self and world achieve a correlative perfection through the word, but the word is never subsumed in a Hegelian absolute self-consciousness. Gadamer wants to do justice to the inwardness that Augustine brought into Western thought but also, as Arthos notes, to “thinking with the other, a membership in the civic community” (158). As Arthos puts it, “Being lives in the rich accretions of meaning out in the world, in the particular manifestations of culture and history which communities innovate” (158). Beyond “the inner life of the individual” stands “the shared world of community and history” (158). The word does not rebound “back upon itself or the speaker,” but emanates into the world and “works to constitute that world” (160). In its reflection, it returns with an addition, an increase from the response of another (another person and indeed the whole of tradition).At the same time, Arthos registers very well the difference between Thomas and Gadamer. For Thomas, intellect is ordered toward God, who is perfect intellect, perfect understanding. But for Gadamer, the self lacks “control of experience and the world” (160). Our relation to the world is not simply the path to God, but rather we are caught up in and serve “the unfolding of being in a co-implication that does not ultimately privilege our separated soul” (161). The process of knowing inaugurated in language culminates in “the priority of the question,” not the vision of being (161).I offer this overview as a good example of Arthos's approach. He begins with Gadamer and from there proceeds to engage afresh the texts and writers Gadamer has most directly in view in a particular section of his book. But Arthos is not simply expounding Gadamer or summarizing a previous text Gadamer's readers may not be familiar with. Still pursuing the point at issue, he opens out the earlier thinker's argument and goes well beyond Gadamer's account to find further resources for thinking about language and the relation of self, word, and world. The additional insights he gains in the end return to Gadamer with a wider perspective that connects with other parts of Gadamer's hermeneutics. And those added insights do not simply lie ready to hand in the earlier text but represent Arthos's own penetrating interpretation that claims its own autonomous philosophical interest. He is not just thinking about Gadamer but thinking about the subject (Sache) alongside Gadamer in a way Gadamer would heartily approve of.Each of Arthos's chapters on the tradition is thus worthy of close attention and extended reflection, but I do not try to summarize each here. I would only add that his well-informed examination of the intertwined doctrines of incarnation and the Trinity show how relevant the thinking of the church fathers and above all Augustine are to an understanding of language that escapes the limits and impasses of most modern philosophical accounts. Christianity is many things, but among them it is a serious intellectual tradition that was built up by some of the most acute minds in human history. These thinkers were not simply dogmatically juggling symbols and doctrines backed by scriptural or hierarchical authority. They were thinking through every aspect of human existence in ways that remain instructive. Without question, the thinking in that tradition that remains important for philosophy (in the Greek and modern sense) needs to be separated from the portion that belongs only to committed faith. No bright line divides these two, yet it would not be simply a mistake but also foolish for philosophers, even of the most rigorously secular convictions, to close their ears to this tradition out of a distaste for anything that has the aroma of piety for them or out of a misguided offense at what they take as proselytizing. The work of philosophers from Jacques Derrida's late books to Alain Badiou, Slavoj Žižek, and Giorgio Agamben stands as an exemplary demonstration of a readiness to confront this tradition with no intent (or risk) of reclaiming for Christian faith a central, still less authoritative, position in contemporary culture.Following his rereading of the tradition Gadamer converses with, Arthos spends over 140 pages closely examining the 10-page section of Truth and Method entitled “Language and Verbum” (1989, 418–28). His commentary proceeds paragraph by paragraph, preserving the structure and sequence of Gadamer's argument. He usefully provides the German text with his own English translation in double columns side-by-side. He registers both what Gadamer is saying and what he is not saying or when he is saying something unexpected, thus revealing what is going on between the lines or behind the text (Gadamer remarked that every utterance is a union of the said and not-said in a specific way). Gadamer's hermeneutics is, of course, insistent that there can be no “exhaustive” commentary or “final word” on any significant text, and certainly not on a text that packs every page with the fruit of forty years of reading and thinking, as Gadamer's great book does. For all its intensive detail, Arthos's commentary does not silence his (and Gadamer's) readers by handing them the meaning of a difficult text on a silver platter, as it were, but rather invites them to engage with him in a close, mutual scrutiny aimed not at the verbal details of the text but ultimately at the subject matter (Sache) that comes to light through it, namely, the nature of language itself.It is worth repeating that Gadamer's indispensable achievement here is to liberate thinking about language from subjectivism, mentalism, instrumentalism, and linguistic structuralism (including the “communication model”). Those may make useful contributions within their sphere of legitimacy. But without rejecting the notion of consciousness or the theory of judgment, Gadamer makes clear that, as Arthos notes, language carries along with it “the community of persons that speak through that language, their achievements, discoveries, and failures” (359). As Arthos puts it, for Gadamer, “The passage of the word down through human history is … a procession, an increase of being arising out of the very finitude of our contingent being” (360). This new understanding of language has far-reaching implications that we have barely begun to explore. Indeed, I hope that the next book on this subject will survey dominant current views of language and present a critique from a Gadamerian perspective. Arthos's invaluable book sends us forth well equipped for exactly that exploration.

This article investigates rhetorical methods for establishing notions of common sense, especially the common sense that makes technological choices take on an aura of inevitability. I rely on a rhetorical framework drawn from Aristotle and Perelman \& Olbrechts-Tyteca, as well as the philosophers Charles Taylor and Andrew Feenberg.

ABSTRACT Petronius’s Satyricon, long recognized as a commentary on rhetorical education, particularly declamation, forms a broad critique of (rhetorical) educational practices in the first century rooted in imitation—declamation, Greek Atticism, imperial rhetoric—and the types of citizens produced by such practices. Problematically, Petronius’s critique, which seeks to redefine class based on a certain cultivated taste or judgment as opposed to material wealth, assumes an elite perspective and falls into the long dismissed “decline narrative” of Roman rhetoric once prevalent in the history of rhetoric. This article seeks to move beyond “Trimalchio vision,” a term used by art historian Lauren Hackworth Peterson to classify derogatory attitudes toward freedmen, to suggest that rhetorical education in the first century reached its intended audience, producing upwardly socially mobile administrators and city patrons in the empire. In other words, rhetorical education was reaching a mass audience in first-century Rome.

Historians of rhetoric have provided research over the last three decades that has significantly advanced our knowledge of women in the rhetorical tradition. These achievements, while often stunning, have also exposed the need for more primary research, particularly in classical rhetoric where a wealth of evidence awaits study. Such evidence is frequently found in nontraditional sources and, correspondingly, calls for nontraditional methods of analysis. The need and merits of this view are presented in two ways. First, an overview of nontraditional sources offers new insights to the literacy of Greek, Roman, and Etruscan women. Second, a more specific and detailed illustration of the research potential of this perspective is presented by deciphering an inscription from Teos, a small but important Greek city that is now a part of Turkey. The epigraphical evidence available from the archaeological site at Teos reveals that young women had systematic education in advanced stages of writing. Such findings challenge traditional characterizations of ancient women as nonliterate. The intent of this work is to reveal the need for more primary fieldwork in order to attain a more accurate understanding of women and the range of their manifestations of literacy in the ancient world.

The epideictic genre of rhetoric has traditionally included public, ceremonial types of rhetoric, such as eulogies and public speeches, that affirm communities. Public memorials and even lyric poetry, however, also epideictically constitute personal and communal identities. When read through the theoretical lenses of Kenneth Burke and Emmanuel Levinas, Gerard Manley Hopkins's poem “Spring and Fall: To a Young Child” seems to evoke a public, communal attitude in readers. This epideictic effect challenges the conventional dichotomy between public and private audiences, inviting us to think more broadly about epideictic rhetoric and its audiences.

Reviews 85 Paddy Bullard, Edmund Burke nud the Art of Rhetoric, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011. 272 pp. ISBN 978-1-107-00657-7 In Edmund Burke and the Art of Rhetoric Paddy Bullard "proposes a theory of Burke's rhetoric" (p. 3). Bullard approaches the question "of the artfulness with which Burke wrote and spoke" (p. 21) not by superimposing the \ ocabularv of classical rhetorical handbooks on Burke's performances; not by using Burke's A Philosophical Enquiry into the Sublime and Beautiful as a source of technical, critical vocabulary; but bv looking to Burke's oeuvre to identify the rhetorical questions that preoccupied Burke and how he addressed the questions throughout his career. Readers will witness enactment of Burkean rhetorical virtues as Bullard examines Burke from perspectives as broad as classical and early modern thinking about rhetoric, to the practical occasions and stakes of Burke's political writing and speaking, to the textual dynamics of his rhetoric. The result is a compelling analysis of Burke's rhetoric that deserves to be read by scholars of eighteenth-century rhetorical theories and practices, and by any scholar interested in generating theory based on practice—indeed anv scholar who wants to read exemplary rhetorical criticism. Broadly speaking, the central question or issue that preoccupies Burke is the nature of the speaker-audience relationship. Bullard describes Burke's rhetoric as a "rhetoric of character," concerned with "who is addressing whom, on behalf of whom" (p. 5; see also pp. 7, 11). Bullard captures the dynamic nature of the relationship when he describes Burke's art of rhetoric as "an art of moral equipoise" (p. 10; see also p. 22). Put differently, "A well-established ethos giv es a speaker licence to be urgent, to abjure false delicacy, and to resist neutrality, and it allows him to do all this without renouncing the claims of equity" (p. 9). The speaker earns the audience's trust by displaying knowledge of characters and his own political judgment, and the audience grants the speaker a license to advocate with zeal. Bullard develops his analysis and argument in an introduction, six chapters, and a conclusion. In the introduction Bullard defends his objects of study and critical vocabulary. He chooses to focus on "the relatively small number of treatises and speeches that Burke authorized as his own (either through publication or private endorsement), while the texts of his publicly reported speeches are treated with caution" (p. 21). Readers will almost certainly find the arguments for the selection to be sound, the central one being that Burke calls for attention to, and Bullard attends to, stylistic detail because this is where the action is—where audiences experience rhetorical effects. In chapters 1 and 2, Bullard covers standard topics in writing the history of rhetoric, namely Burke's intellectual context for thinking about rhetoric and the place of rhetoric in Irish education. This is not a routine history of rhetoric that broadly covers the usual suspects but instead focuses on clas­ sical, seventeenth-century and contemporary writers who explored the idea that is at the heart of Burke's rhetoric of character: that orators are best able to 86 RHETORICA secure a good moral character in the minds of their audience by demonstrat­ ing their understanding of what moral character is" (p. 28). Bullard covers Aristotle's treatment of rhetorical ethos and its guises in Roman thinkers in­ cluding Cicero and Quintilian. He uses Locke as a critical prompt to discuss writings by Hobbes, Edward Reynolds, and La Bruyère and to trace "how the rhetorical category of ethos returned to relevance during the seventeenth century as part of a popularized prudential moralism" (p. 42) in history, psy­ chology, and character-writing. He traces the Aristotelian model's adaptions in writings about pulpit eloquence and their secular processes in Shaftesbury and Smith. Similarly, the history of eighteenth-century rhetoric education among English speakers is not commonplace but instead advances the claim that "there are several important respects in which the Irish, rather than the Scots, should be seen as the real pioneers of this new development ["the study of literature in modern vernacular languages"] in the art of rhetoric" (p...

El 13 de julio de 1556 moría Philibert de Rye, obispo de Ginebra. Un grupo de eruditos relacionados con la Universidad de Dola le tributó un homenaje literario, entre cuyos textos destacamos una elegía dialogada, desarrollada en dísticos elegíacos, obra del humanista Antonio Llull, texto que no recoge ninguno de los repertorios de la producción de este tratadista mallorquín. En este artículo estudiaremos este poema por primera vez, tanto en lo referente a sus fuentes y sus antecedentes literarios, como a la luz de los tratados de Llull <i>Progymnasmata rhetorica</i> (1550/1551/1572) y <i>De oratione libri septem</i> (1558).

88 RHETORICA who seek a history of rhetorical theory that teaches, delights, and moves will find it here. Beth Innocenti University ofKansas William Pallister, Between Worlds: The Rhetorical Universe of Paradise Lost (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2008). ISBN 978-0-80209835 -1; Daniel Shore, Milton and the Art ofRhetoric (Cambridge: Cam­ bridge University Press, 2012). isbn: 978-1-107-02150-1 Two books published in the last few years each have much to offer on the subject of how the English poet and statesman John Milton (1608-74) employed rhetoric in his various works and particularly in his epic poem Paradise Lost. William Pallister reminds or perhaps informs Miltonists of the centrality of rhetoric in the Renaissance and its utility both for persuasion and morality. He argues that contemporary criticism has overlooked the formal poetic and rhetorical presentation of Milton's ideas (7-8). Pallister's particu­ lar focus is Paradise Lost and the rhetorical issue of future contingency, which he traces through Milton's epic poem in terms of three distinct rhetorics, of hell, of heaven, and of paradise, the paradisal one being the most rhetorical because the most contingent. Pallister divides his book into two equal halves. His first five chapters are heavily documented demonstrations of Renaissance rhetoric, its clas­ sical roots, and Milton's engagement with it. In chapter one, Pallister first identifies contingency and probability as key issues in deliberative rhetoric and locates their discussion in such authors as Augustine, Boethius, Ock­ ham, Aquinas, Valla, Pomponazzi, Erasmus, Luther, and Calvin. He then demonstrates how Milton's theological concerns for free will in Paradise Lost are reflected in his preservation therein of future contingency. Chap­ ter two surveys the classical rhetoricians who had written on contingency, such as Isocrates, Aristotle, and Cicero, since Milton cites these authorities in his short pedagogical tract, Of Education (1644) rather than any of the educational theorists of his own period. Chapter three surveys Renaissance rhetoric in terms of its focus on eloquent style and its prescribed utility in politics, ethics, poetry, and theology, and in chapter four demonstrates how Milton's own prose identifies eloquence as "none . . . but the serious and hearty love of truth" (80; An Apology against a Pamphlet, Yale Prose 1: 948-49), a love that Pallister associates with Milton's "humanistic faith in the power of eloquence to captivate its audience and compel them to accept Christian values" (10). Chapter five considers rhetoric's relation to Christian theology and particularly the Bible as a rhetorical text, preaching as a rhetorical art, and God as a rhetorical and especially a poetic speaker. Reviews 89 With this foundation laid, Pallister proceeds in the second half of his book to investigate the rhetorical nature of Paradise Lost. In chapter six, he takes us to the poitions of Milton s epic that take place in heaven. Since there is little contingency possible in God's omniscience, the master tropes of hea\ en aie polugtoton and especiallv conduplica110, and the favored genus dieendi is epideixis, especially praise. Chapter seven surveys Satan's presentation as an orator in various authors before and including Milton, whose Satan is an accomplished orator, and chapter eight identifies the master trope of hell as demotes, or rhetorical cleverness, by which Satan not only deceives others but “tricks himself into seeing a contingent future that no longer exists for the defeated angels" (176). Chapters nine and ten treat rhetoric in the Carden of Eden, “the hub of Milton's rhetorical universe, [where] the theological, dramatic, and discursive conditions exist for rhetoric to thrive on all levels" (197) and where it comes most into its own as a agent of moral persuasion in the psychomachia of man's inner being (198). Pallister's text is a manifestly learned, monograph-length discussion of how Renaissance rhetoric, and particularly deliberative rhetoric, informs the greatest epic in the English language. Elis volume is well worthy to have won the Modern Language Association of America's Prize for Independent Scholars in 2009. Like all sublunary publications, however, it is not always perfect. Its extensive surveys in the first half are sometimes more trees than forest and might have benefitted from more signposting...

Ancient Greek and Roman compositional instruction, as evidenced in Greek handbooks on the progymnasmata and Quintilian's Institutio Oratoria, included a strong moral component. The importance of moral pedagogy to ancient teachers and theorists is seen not only in the themes and contents of the exercises, but also in their sequencing and justification.

The article traces ideas of improvisation in Quintilian’s rhetorical work, presents an interdisciplinary literature review of improvisation studies, and surveys modern disciplines that teach improvisation, all with the goal of implementing these ideas into a first-year, college-writing pedagogy.

Even though a great deal of image and text will be spent discussing the website of an anti-smoking organization, this webtext isn't really even about them. The concern here is what happens when the classical means of persuasion meet the cool tactics of a digital interface and take a beating in the process.

Notwithstanding the widespread assumption that Aristotle forges a better relationship among rhetoric, the emotions, and political morality than Cicero, I contend that Cicero, not Aristotle, offers a more relevant account of the relationship among these terms. I argue that, by grounding his account of emotional appeals in the art of rhetoric, Aristotle does not evade the moral problems originating in emotional manipulation. Moreover, Aristotle's approach to emotional appeals in politics is, compared to Cicero's, static, unable to adapt to new political circumstances. I suggest that Cicero's approach to the rhetorical emotions is more acceptable to a modern audience than Aristotle's because it is ethically based while also responsive to political realities. Cicero accommodates emotional appeals to circumstance based on his belief in decorum as a moral principle. Further, I show that emotional manipulation in Cicero is not as problematical as it initially appears.

Nessuna classificazione, sia antica sia moderna, porta alla luce in modo adeguato la varietà di domande che Demostene utilizza nelle sue Filippiche. Lo scopo di questo lavoro è di esaminare l'analisi dell'utilizzazione delle domande nell'eloquenza greca e di elaborare una nuova classificazione che si basa sul lavoro dei retori antichi e studiosi moderni, ma mette in evidenza la diversità della prassi di Demostene e chiara come i diversi tipi di domande che egli usa nei suoi discorsi spesso riflettono l'approccio di tutto il discorso.

ABSTRACTThis article argues for a definition of rhetorical argumentation based on the theme of the argumentation, that is, the issue in dispute, rather than its aim (e.g., to “win”) or its means (e.g., emotional appeals). It claims that the principal thinkers in the rhetorical tradition, from Aristotle onward, saw rhetoric as practical reasoning, that is, reasoning on action or choice, not on propositions that may be either true or false. Citing several contemporary philosophers, the article argues that this definition highlights certain distinctive properties of rhetorical argumentation that tend to be overlooked or undertheorized in argumentation theory.

ABSTRACT This article examines Jürgen Habermas's argumentation theory for an answer to the question of the role of rhetoric in cogent argument-making practices. At first glance, Habermas's triadic synthesis of logic, dialectic, and rhetoric appears conventionally neo-Aristotelian and logocentric. However, in aligning rhetoric with a formal, idealized understanding of argument as a process, Habermas gives rhetorical evaluation an authoritative role in certifying nonrelativistic public knowledge. Further elaboration of the implications of his model reveals a radically social view of rational persuasion and of reasonable opinion formation that makes intellectual humility a central virtue. Humility heavily restricts the scope for reasonable disagreement and dissent, particularly in polarized controversies. Examination of such a controversy shows the limits of the Habermasian conception of rhetoric.

ABSTRACT Theories of argumentation that give serious attention to rhetorical features, such as those of Aristotle and Chaïm Perelman, assign an important role to the audience when considering how argumentation should be constructed and evaluated. But neither of these theorists provides ways of thinking about audience that is adequate to the range of questions raised by this central concept. In this article, I explore one of these questions—that of audience identity—and consider the degree to which this issue has been recognized by the theorists in question and how we might move from their conceptions of it to a better understanding of the importance of identity in argumentation and how it should be treated.

Notwithstanding the widespread assumption that Aristotle forges a better relationship among rhetoric, the emotions, and political morality than Cicero, I contend that Cicero, not Aristotle, offers a more relevant account of the relationship among these terms. I argue that, by grounding his account of emotional appeals in the art of rhetoric, Aristotle does not evade the moral problems originating in emotional manipulation. Moreover, Aristotle’s approach to emotional appeals in politics is, compared to Cicero’s, static, unable to adapt to new political circumstances. I suggest that Cicero’s approach to the rhetorical emotions is more acceptable to a modern audience than Aristotle’s because it is ethically based while also responsive to political realities. Cicero accommodates emotional appeals to circumstance based on his belief in decorum as a moral principle. Further, I show that emotional manipulation in Cicero is not as problematical as it initially appears.

Nessuna classificazione, sia antica sia moderna, porta alla luce in modo adeguato la varietà di domande che Demostene utilizza nelle sue Filippiche. Lo scopo di questo lavoro è di esaminare l’analisi dell’utilizzazione delle domande nell’eloquenza greca e di elaborare una nuova classificazione che si basa sul lavoro dei retori antichi e studiosi moderni, ma mette in evidenza la diversità della p rassi di Demostene e chiara come i diversi tipi di domande che egli usa nei suoi discorsi spesso riflettono l’approccio di tutto il discorso.

Reviews Michael S. Kochin. Five Chapters on Rhetoric: Character, Action, Things, Nothing, and Art. University Park, Pennsylvania: Penn State Univer­ sity Press, 2009. ISBN 978-0-291-03455-3 The selections in this hook are best read as a series of loosely connected essays, situated within political science, informed bv scholarship in the rhetoric of Greek and Roman antiquity They build, in a leisurely way, toward a theory of rhetoric as an art of persuasive speech especially suited to the task of the politician—the construction of political advice. In his introduction, Michael Kochin proposes to use the diffusion of ideas in scientific communities as a model of political persuasion: "the politician seeks an understanding of policy through his or her operations within political institutions, just as the scientist seeks understanding through his or her operation wdthin political institutions. Scientific knowledge is thus created and distributed throughout the netw'ork: it is not merely diffused through it from center to periphery. I appeal to this clear case to explain the unclear case of public life: because the social structure of science is well studied, the rhetorical concepts I want to explicate are more clearly visible in it" (11). That w'ould have been an interesting book, but it is not the one Kochin ended up writing. Five Chapters forgets all about scientific communication for chapters on end, and the ideas that it develops about political communication are a very mixed bag. It is, for all that, an engaging and stimulating book. Kochin offers fix e topics for the investigation of political persuasion: character (or ethos), action (or stasis), things (the creation of facts), nothing (communication that maintains relationships) and art (specifically rhetoric as a means of understanding artful speech). Issues of argument and affect are dismissed in the introduction: political persuasion, according to Kochin, depends on the credibility of the speaker and the telling power of facts, and emotion is "a junk category" (15). Both the topics that Kochin has chosen and those he has left aside offer a reader fair warning that the ride ahead will not be a trot through familiar territories. The chapters on character, action, things, and nothing approach issues of political persuasion from different directions. Character takes up the Aristotelean traits of knowledge, benevolence, and virtue, treated here under the topics of competence, identification, and empathy. The chapter also Khetorica, Vol. XXXI, issue 4, pp. 445-464, ISSN 0734-8584, electronic ISSN 15338541 . T2013 by The International Society for the History of Rhetoric. All rights re­ served. Please direct all requests for permission to photocopy or reproduce article content through the University of California Press's Rights and Permissions website, at http://www.ucpressjournals.com/reprintlnfo.asp. DOI: 10.1525/RH.2013.31.4.445. 446 RHETORICA discusses the ways in which political leaders "empty" their personalities of idiosyncracies, the better to reflect common values (40). He critiques theories of ethos that see it as artificial, connecting Aristotle's rhetorical ethos to his political ethos. And he introduces a theme that will connect these four chapters: any program that favors "measures, not men" as the focus of political discourse fails to take into account the public's need to judge measures by the men who advocate them. The chapter on action is an extended reading of Demosthenes' "On the Crown," taken as a model for political advocacy in its orientation to the future, and to the possible. Kochin insists that the Athenian audience's approval of the speech is an extension of its judgment of Demosthenes as a competent, benevolent counselor who represents the collective interests of the Athenians. Judgments based on motives or on the results of actions are necessarily flawed, incomplete, or irrelevant. Kochin illustrates this analysis with examples from American political discourse, including the first of many positive citations of Calvin Coolidge, a president I do not ordinarily associate with rhetorical skill. The chapter on things is one of the strongest in the book. Kochin de­ velops an account of enargeia in a discussion of political speeches that deploy facts, statistics, vivid narratives, and images. The range of examples, from Begin to Coolidge (again!) is impressive; Kochin connects the persuasive force of...

Unlike the others in this collection of articles, I was Don Ochs' classmate for three years. When taking classes in classical rhetorical theory or practice, he tended to share instructional tasks with the professor-ofrecord. His classical education was exemplary. He had drunk deeply of the Greco-Roman brew. He was a man whom you could ask, "So what are you doing at 2:34 p.m. tomorrow?" and get a precise reply-the most totally organized doctoral student I've ever met (so unlike the rest of us).

Book Review| August 01 2013 Review: Eric MacPhail, The Sophistic Renaissance by Eric MacPhail Eric MacPhail, The Sophistic Renaissance (Travaux d'Humanisme et Renaissance 485), Geneva: Droz, 2011, 155 pp. ISBN: 978-2-600-01467-0 55 Rhetorica (2013) 31 (3): 337–339. https://doi.org/10.1525/RH.2013.31.3.337 Views Icon Views Article contents Figures & tables Video Audio Supplementary Data Peer Review Share Icon Share Facebook Twitter LinkedIn Email Tools Icon Tools Cite Icon Cite Search Site Citation Review: Eric MacPhail, The Sophistic Renaissance by Eric MacPhail. Rhetorica 1 August 2013; 31 (3): 337–339. doi: https://doi.org/10.1525/RH.2013.31.3.337 Download citation file: Ris (Zotero) Reference Manager EasyBib Bookends Mendeley Papers EndNote RefWorks BibTex toolbar search Search Dropdown Menu toolbar search search input Search input auto suggest filter your search All ContentRhetorica Search This content is only available via PDF. © 2013 by The International Society for the History of Rhetoric. All rights reserved.2013 Article PDF first page preview Close Modal You do not currently have access to this content.

Distinct from prose essays as cultural expression, we use technical communication for functional purposes, addressing questions of how people learn as we craft our communications. Aristotle set out psychological principles of how people learn -- or are persuaded to change their minds -- when he laid down his foundational advice for rhetors to cultivate "the faculty of observing in any given case the available means of persuasion on almost any subject presented to us." Building on this foundational principle, technical communicators since World War II have studied how to achieve persuasion (or change) by making information accessible, formatting documents, writing at designated reading levels, and setting out instruction steps clearly. Recently, we have also become interested in how, through the concept of rhetoric, oral and written language acquires poignant social, ethical and technical dimensions, situating Aristotle's "faculties" of persuasion within specific cultural and political contexts.

The acknowledgments preceding The State of Speech illuminate much about the subtext of the book and the very real-world problems to which the author hoped to find a solution in writing it. The problem: the disjunction in post-9/11 America “between the daily practices of citizenship and the exercise of political power” (xi). Joy Connolly's solution: Cicero's ideal orator. Here Connolly's goal is not simply to provide a clearer explanation of Cicero's entwined political and rhetorical theory as read through his ideal orator but also to extract from Cicero's works a rival to current republican thought entrenched in “individual liberty” (1). For Connolly, as for Cicero, this model is based in rhetorical practices.Ultimately, accepting Connolly's argument depends first on the reader's acceptance that Ciceronian theory provides a model that values personal experience (including nonelite experience), that the orator is positioned through civility or decorum to recognize others' experiences, and finally that the orator prioritizes the common good of all (Roman) people. This requires that Connolly reconcile the Roman masses with the oratorical practices of the elite in the Roman republic and de-essentialize gender and class as the basis of full, participatory citizenship. These topics are the frequent focuses of the early chapters of the book and by far the most controversial lines of argument. Second, the reader must accept that the Ciceronian model can extend beyond the theoretical to actual political practice, presumably, in post-9/11America. While the success of Connolly's argument may hinge on the acceptance of these claims, the success of the book, a theoretically dense reading of republican rhetorical and political theory, primarily, though not exclusively, through the works of Cicero, does not. It is much of the work necessary to underpin the major arguments of the book that holds the greatest value for readers interested in oratorical performance, citizenship, gender, class, and rhetorical theory in ancient Rome.The introduction of the book begins to establish the major lines of argument and to build the claim that “Roman rhetoric makes a major contribution to the way that the western tradition thinks about politics” (262). In support of this claim, Connolly moves between Roman and early American and even contemporary rhetorical and political theory (Habermas, Marx, Mouffe, Arendt, Benhabib, Gramsci, and Žižek among others are all frequently cited). The introduction emphasizes the significance of the Roman republic in American political theory by detailing how republicanism has served to mediate between “radical and liberal approaches” to American history (7–10).The first chapter, “Founding the State of Speech,” is an exploration of two key questions in republican Rome, the relation between the orator and the masses—how the Roman populace was taken up, represented, ruled, formed, and guided by the speech act—and the basis of authority for the speaker. Connolly's examination of these issues leads to the major claim of the chapter—that for the orator of the Roman republic authority was performative and firmly rooted in the charismatic, elite body. That is, until the shift in the early first century and the influx of Greek rhetorical theory represented in the handbooks of the Rhetorica ad Herennium and Cicero's own De inventione.This shift, according to Connolly, was a move to, as the title of section header makes clear, “rationalize the republic,” in that handbooks were able to “put rhetoric forward as a model of rational and rationalized public discourse,” which “constrain[ed] expressions of authority” inasmuch as the orator was no longer “relying on ancestry or wealth, but [instead] recouping elite charisma in a logical discourse of style” (67–68). For Connolly, this shift transferred authority from the bodies of Rome's elite and conflicts among them to a “learnable code” (69). The role of the people, who Connolly argues were once “moral judges,” also shifts, through the genre of judicial oratory, to deliberation about what is “just and honorable” with the jury functioning as “a microcosm of the just city” (70). According to Connolly, these shifts moved Rome from conflict to consensus by grounding conflict in law, judicial rhetoric, and deliberation and reconciled Hellenistic rhetorical theory, namely status (or stasis) theory, with the oratorical practices of the Roman republic (73–75).Chapter 2, “Naturalized Citizens” begins with a discussion of the origins of Roman civil society using myth, specifically Virgil's Aeneid, to frame the tensions between nature and culture before moving to a similar and, Connolly argues, related tension in discussions of eloquence as resulting from nature or art in the prefaces of Cicero's De oratore. This chapter establishes two major arguments. First, that Roman citizenship underwent a transformation, necessitated by expansion of the Roman empire in the first century BCE, from an Aristotelian model of “a virtuous, homogeneous citizenry intimately linked by geographic proximity and the shared experience of living together” to a more flexible Ciceronian model that sought “to represent civic bonds as rooted in nature but activated and reinforced through human acts and their memorialization in text” (88, 89).Second, and much more significant to the remainder of the book (and scholars of rhetorical history), Connolly makes the case that Cicero's concept of republican citizenship can be unearthed from the nature/art debate regarding rhetorical training in De oratore. This reading leads to the claim that the shift in “eloquence's status as an art to its identity as a product of nature” is not “a matter of wholesale transformation” as much as “a hybridization of the categories ars and natura” (103). Interestingly, Connolly argues that those who need the art are, in Roman rhetorical treatises, “demasculinized” and not “eligible for full citizenship” (104). Because experience (apprenticeships, practice in the forum) is privileged by Cicero (and his Antonius), rhetorical training is unnecessary: “Naturalization of rhetoric amounts to a claim of natural domination in terms of class and ethnicity … [by the] male, well-educated, and wealthy” Roman citizen (111). However, Connolly argues that ultimately Cicero's characters are concealing rather than naturalizing rhetorical training, an obscuration that is symptomatic of “eloquence as stability born of instability” and “Cicero's view of the res publica.” This conflict leads Connolly to clearly articulate her reading of Cicero's ideal orator: “As Cicero closes the gap between eloquence and virtue, the orator's speaking body becomes the virtuous body of the citizen and, by extension, a microcosm of the virtuous body politic: eloquence emerges as a performative ethics that embodies and enacts the common good for the instruction and pleasure of the republic” (113). Perhaps surprisingly, there is very little consideration of Cicero's own position as a new man, though there is a brief suggestion that Cicero might be guilty of a “tactical misreading” of the bounds of Roman citizenship (90).Chapter 3, “The Body Politic,” builds on a conclusion of the previous chapter, that Cicero's ideal orator is “embodied proof of republican virtue,” by developing the implications of Cicero's philosophy of rhetoric as fundamentally performative. The chapter makes two theoretical claims about republican practices based on Cicero's ideal orator. First, while the orators of De oratore are all upper-class men, Cicero's rhetorical theory manages to “encompass a more generous circle,” his “universalizing language” broadening civic identity (125). She develops this idea, returning to the relationship between the people and the orator from the first chapter, by arguing that Cicero's orator is meant to offer a “mirror of the good life” that the audience can accept (or reject) and that in doing so the orator opens himself to the judgment of the people. Connolly's second major claim of this chapter, which follows from the first, is that Cicero's focus on the body is a largely a response to Plato's arguments against rhetoric as found mainly in the Gorgias. Here, Connolly puts forward Cicero's model as a “historic ally for theoretical work” that seeks to problematize the mind/body dualism that has connected men to logic and women to the body, arguing that Cicero's model of “rhetoric opens up a view of subjectification that is usually overlooked in examinations of the Western tradition; the positive moments of subject construction, as opposed to purely negative practices of subjection” (150–51).The arguments leading to this claim center on the body of the orator. First, Plato's questioning of the epistemic function of rhetoric is answered, according to Connolly (building on Habermas), because the orator's “beliefs and practices are not fully his own.” Rather they are a combination of history and perception, and his “virtue is constructed through interactions with others” that break down public and private communication, as the orator's “self” “emerges in the context of communal belief and practice” (144, 151). “Communal observation and supervision,” then, function as a check on the potentially unchecked power of the orator (147). This positioning of the orator is rather precarious both physically and psychologically, with the “orator's body … embedded in republican networks that anchor communicative practices … serving as site of connection for elite and mass” (154). Though Connolly does not elaborate on this claim, the potential vulnerability of the body (and mind) of the orator becomes a recurring theme in the book (152–56).Chapter 4, “The Aesthetics of Virtue,” begins with a discussion of two Roman concepts: libertas, which, although similar to the contemporary concept of negative liberty, is here positioned as free as opposed to slave, and the related dignitas, that is, the freedom not only of speech but the “accrual of standing” to see one's ideas put in place (160). These two terms open a discussion of the tension between tyranny, both of the senatorial class and of the self-interested elite, and the common good of the lawful republic. “Oratorical training and performance,” then, according to Connolly, offer a means of “self-mastery” by which to balance these polarities, in part because the orator, whether in public or private performances, seeks the “label of vir bonus” (161). “Republican patriotism,” a term coined by Connolly, is defined as the process of training the self through “self-love,” repeated performance, and the display of emotion, which, for Cicero, “brings relations of power into the realm of aesthetics” (162). Connolly develops these ideas through several sections. First, she ties together the role of passion in political speech and the idea of “civic love” or “natural sociability.” She makes the case that Cicero regards decorum as the virtue that allows the orator to control his passions (165–66, 169), a virtue similar to the Greek sophrosune, which, Connolly claims, essentializes class. She goes on to address Cicero's “paradoxical solution,” which roots “aesthetic sensibility” in nature, and finally turns to Catullus, who Connolly claims balances decorum and passion (169–85).Returning to notions of libertas through the ideal of self-control and performativity, Connolly stresses that because law played a limited role in constraining domination by the elite and the will to power, “the social conventions that regulated ethics, behavior, and deportment played a correspondingly important role” (187). This section then follows up on the risks of such self-mastery, such as that it might lead to the desire to “exploit the spectacularity of the self” or a dangerous “contempt for others” that forces one to withdrawal from civic life or self-destruction (189). Continuing with the idea of the destabilizing power of the passions, Connolly turns to the role of the passions in contemporary political thought to address the issues of “widespread civic disengagement” and “fragmentation,” particularly as articulated by Iris Marion Young, who is concerned that in using “historical polities that privileged public discourse as models” we risk excluding people based on bodily difference (192–93).1 Connolly offers a slightly different model of a “deliberating republic, one that is a constant repetitive performance…. Communal acts and witnessing of character are pivotal in the constant self-reminding of identity and sentiment that citizens must perform in order to strengthen and reconstitute civic ties” (196). Connolly's “argument in this chapter is intended to suggest that the Roman rhetorical tradition provides a model. What that tradition tells us, above all, is that speech is married to the learned, learnable techniques of emotion control” (193).Chapter 5, “Republican Theater,” begins with the anxieties about the orator as an actor who can perform virtuosity without living virtuously. The first part of the chapter explores the nature of the oratorical performance in relation to stage acting and its role in Ciceronian thought. Connolly argues that while in Cicero's model the orator must be virtuous, a certain duplicity is necessary in republican life, and ultimately the orator's training, which teaches him to pass his performance off as natural, constrains him by demanding that he conceal his education both by not discussing it and not revealing it when speaking (202–6). Connolly argues, “The student of such a curriculum was in a position to learn that the authority granted by eloquence is not the manifestation of free men's natural superiority, and that its tactics are identical to those of actors and women, who exist outside the charmed circle of the political class” (206). While this anxiety over the tension between authenticity and artifice is often expressed in language reflecting gender panic, Connolly argues that the anxiety is more complex, in that, it “emerge[s] out of a recognition precisely that the republic exists in the act, the show, the display of plausible authority, the theatrical presentation of ethos” (206). Here Connolly takes exception with John Dugan, who, according to Connolly, argues that “Cicero advocates a transgressive aesthetic that undermines conventional Roman notions of masculinity” (199n4).2 Connolly's own position has evolved from her earlier article “Mastering Corruption,” which considers gender as defining the “panic” discussed here rather than one factor among many. Though in the article she is primarily interested in Quintilian and declamation, Connolly suggests citizenship in Rome gender and class to a much than is in her discussion of Cicero's in State of “The two and were in a of that then as as the and social that them men, free to the practices of women and that they in the that the speech they was a the State of as in “Mastering Corruption,” Connolly Greek and Roman discussions of in rhetorical theory that or of with the Here, she her Cicero's anxiety is not about or discourse has the it does not because is and … but because civic of to a political what we In what Connolly the between her view that … is the in and by of gender that out what are civic and and that of others who establish “the nature of civic only its in of of this chapter shift to focus on and in and which Cicero power was Connolly's argument here is but She that as the republic Cicero moved beyond to the more and of Here Connolly as Cicero on oratorical in the law in an to to and in in order to a or that the audience not to as but to … the of the In the on particularly in Cicero's was meant to to the of the and, in doing to of an that the with one's citizens that was necessary for civil life chapter of State of Speech moves from Cicero to how the republican political on the performance of the orator, was forward into Rome in the of Here, Connolly focuses on the works of and argues that the were of the up by Ciceronian rhetorical discourse and its performative ethics of republican the that there in the first the of a in In to the significance of in terms of social and as a of to the new Connolly in several from earlier chapters here In chapters and for Connolly argues that because the orator's performance is based in experience and depends on emotion, he may his by in public This idea is connected to the of who even than the republican orator to Connolly also argues that the are symptomatic of social in their to his on and of She then suggests that with his on control of the body, represented a against the and a to the discussed in chapter According to Connolly, this rhetorical education served as a training for a of people, which ultimately Cicero's public orator. In as a way to establish social and control” brief discussion of in which Connolly scholars who Cicero is Marion and are “Cicero's on decorum lead him to that the public must his audience of citizens as in an of to be because he that they are his but because the of him to the of communal and to the decorum as the virtue, one that down the of class and Connolly the claim that to control to that and among his Cicero's ideal citizen is in a position to political before she with a for an view of claims that Cicero's orator requires and is performance are and provide a for Cicero's political to contemporary The of This of the of De oratore as Connolly with to of the the nature/art debate and the While he these very from Connolly, the debate as an an Aristotelian model of rhetoric, with Cicero down firmly on the of the he Connolly, that Cicero is a model of rhetoric that is based in as opposed to theoretical and that this is necessary in order to with the audience Perhaps the one difference between them that a is that Connolly's belief that “the debate is in terms of difference and in tension with the of (103). While this focus on difference allows Connolly to Cicero's of citizenship from it also the that Cicero, as argues, has a Greek model in Cicero's to the way in which rhetoric was Rome suggests all rhetorical training it is a Connolly's focus on Cicero's connection to contemporary political theory her from reading Cicero through so on Cicero Though Connolly that the Roman republic was by she claims that “Cicero's of civility is a place to the terms of social because it the tension of and social class, it is not by of class or what is Cicero the common but how he intended that good to be is, more than Connolly of ultimately Connolly's of the people into the performance of the values were and by rhetorical handbooks and oratorical in law as in the of the elite control of in the as the orator their and the masses to be in elite oratorical While this reading is for the role of the people in relation to in Rome, Connolly's reading is limited by the on the orator's bodily performance and his (and of the people. This the people must be for in the oratorical rhetorical their role as an and rhetorical practices that might more represent the Roman people. Connolly elite control of language as a of class to for the means by which to the masses into the oratorical Though Connolly the significance of political the “Roman to see positioning rhetoric as a art that the of among its before to Cicero's she does not or of the Roman people into oratorical practice as a model for contemporary Connolly's arguments about civic to of the for are In the what Cicero ideal orator, one who through his turns conflict into of as Connolly frequently a a response to unchecked that was the republic and, all Cicero's ideal orator and the resulting republic Connolly's reading of Cicero is by the need to Cicero a way to which scholars of the history of rhetoric will be as a model solution to contemporary political a that with the common While the arguments necessary to so may not be fully they are and lead to a consideration of gender and class in ancient Rome and work on the of the particularly those as a way to bodily charisma and as a means by which to the audience to consideration of and of the vulnerability of the orator's body and those stage and withdrawal from political life and the risk of to to audience are and of a there is in Connolly's recouping of Ciceronian theory, though it is not the it is its of negative has so the common good as to such a The The State of Speech was and the it was political in and though much of the rhetoric of the has one need no than the of control to public by to find that the disjunction that first Connolly has and a recognition of are a good place to and one than to to Cicero for of

ABSTRACTIn her 2006 article “The Task of the Bow” Carol Poster shows through an analysis of the fragment “For the bow, its name is life but its task is death” that for Heraclitus the instability of the material world also infects language and that investigating the unstable logos—its hidden, double, oblique meanings—discloses this extralinguistic world instability. This article conducts similar analysis of the wordplay in Heraclitus's opening lines, challenging the long-standing debate over the meaning of logos in the first fragment. Through reconsidering the context of Aristotle's references to Heraclitus's paradoxes, this article develops a set of hermeneutic criteria that may be applied to contemporary interpretations of the first fragment. Understood as a paradox, the hidden meaning of this logos must be sought through its primary meaning (speech or discourse), and its fuller interpretation requires an expansion (not contraction) of its possible signification. By such an interpretation, the logos as speech of the first fragment is concomitant with the volatile flux of the material world itself.

Abstract This essay traces the origins of the five-paragraph essay to a form of theme-writing that has deep roots in English education and classical rhetoric, long before the current-traditional period that has been commonly assumed to be the origin. The five-paragraph essay's history and evolution can inform our understanding of its role in writing instruction and why it has persisted for so long. Notes 1I thank RR reviewers Lynée Gaillet and Janice Lauer Rice for their helpful recommendations. I am also indebted to Mara Holt for her help and encouragement, as well as Carol Mattingly, Amanda Hayes, Andrea Venn, Bryan Lutz, Matt Vetter, and Emily Nunes. 2Part I was published in 1851. 3Walker's textbook was first published in the United States in 1808. 4Walker did not create the term theme or the rules for writing them. While themes were used for writing in Latin, students probably also composed themes in English (the vulgar tongue) long before Walker. 5Many compositionists, seeing some classical roots to the five-paragraph essay, might assume that Aristotle's Rhetoric may have been an influence on the formation of the five-paragraph essay, perhaps citing the five canons of rhetoric (which he does not explicitly outline) and his treatment of argumentation and arrangement. However, there is no evidence that indicates that Aristotle's Rhetoric had any direct influence on the five-paragraph essay's formation.

In carving out space in rhetorical history for people with disabilities, this article interprets “asylum-school” curriculum through rhetorical practices involving the art of becoming, the body, and civic participation. Rhetorical practice is understood as it manifests within imposed constraints. So while for some, work as a seamstress might not qualify as the civic life Cicero thought to be rhetoric's ultimate goal, that work is indeed civically vital. By disrupting the social versus civic opposition, rhetoric includes practices other than just the political and is considered across a spectrum of difference.

Although it has been ten years since Sharon Crowley called for Richard M. Weaver's exclusion from the canon of rhetorical history, Weaver's rhetorical positions have never been stronger, utilized in movements such as the Tea Party and current conservative rhetoric. While Crowley (2001) Crowley, Sharon. 2001. When Ideology Motivates Theory: The Case of the Man From Weaverville. Rhetoric Review, 20: 66–93. [Taylor & Francis Online] , [Google Scholar] argued that Weaver's Platonism came from his reaction to Roosevelt's politics, this archival study suggests that Weaver was much more pragmatic than his political pronouncements have led scholars, such as Crowley, to believe. Before Weaver wrote polemical works such as “To Write the Truth,” he operated within the constraints of the philosophically rigid institutional culture of neo-Aristotelianism, and the archival record demonstrates his attenuation to this rhetorical situation. The implications for these findings diminish the effectiveness of his appropriation by political movements that are based in foundationalistic rhetoric. These implications also demonstrate how rhetorical scholarship has utilized the polemical nature of Weaver's writings in the advancement of the professionalization of the discipline.

Reviews 337 The final chapter examines later developments in the air, which the author views as resulting in a general decline in quality, although it may also be the result of a changing aesthetic which valued the simple and natural over the relative complexity of the earlier style. In part this change may have been the result of the popularization resulting from the printed annual anthologies of Ballard, the Airs de different autheiirs (1658-94). In spite of push-back from religious authorities, who decried the pursuit of pleasurable distractions associated with the air, it proliferated in the eighteenth century, albeit in a somewhat simpler, more rustic style. The book is extremely well documented and provides a through bibli­ ography of relevant research. It furnishes extensiv e and accurate translations of all the texts under discussion. Robert A. Green Bloomington Eric MacPhail, The Sophistic Renaissance (Travaux ¿'Humanisme et Renaissance 485), Geneva: Droz, 2011,155 pp. ISBN: 978-2-600-014670 55 This ingenious small book combines a careful but sprightly appraisal of the sophistic sources av ailable to Humanist scholars and a persuasive analysis of the influence of these sources on the writings of major literary figures of the Renaissance. Eric MacPhail manages adroitly the double focus of his study. Scholars of early modern history and literature will doubtless find his appreciation of the linkage between the two an inspiration for further studies. Divided into two parts, the book begins with an engaging bibliographi­ cal account of the "fragmentary fortunes" of the sophists from their notoriety in the literature of late fifth century Athens to their resurgence in the writ­ ings of renaissance humanists. The aim of the author is to uncover who the sophists were. Much scholarship has been devoted to the sophists already, but MacPhail's aim is to engender a new appreciation of the effect of their oratorical methods and their relativist philosophy on renaissance literature. He selects from among the sophists mentioned in classical texts, seven who appear to have made the greatest impression on both ancient and renaissance commentators—Protagoras, Gorgias, Prodicus, Thrasymachus, Hippias, An­ tiphon, and Critias. Seen as relishing arguments on both sides of an issue and delighting in exhibitions of their inventive powers, few commentators spoke in their favor. And as teachers for hire, they provoked disdain, not only from fifth century critics, but from one of their arch imitators, Montaigne, as well. Yet he was indebted to them for the subversive energy of his essays, MacPhail claims, dubbing him "the champion of sophistic reasoning" (92)." Erasmus, too, owed the satirical character of his Praise ofFolly to the sophists. 338 RHETORICA McPhail places the blame for the disrepute of the sophists on Plato's di­ alogues. The philosopher excoriated their argumentative strategies as being based solely on opinion, on what appears to be true. Protagoras exemplified their stance in his claim that all opinions are true and that man is the measure of all things. Aristotle, MacPhail remarks, although less pejorative than Plato in the Art of Rhetoric, distinguished sophists from rhetors by their focus on dynamis (prowess), rather than proairesis (moral purpose). One drawback, however, of the compact nature of this study is the omission of any discus­ sion of the emergence of the art of rhetoric in the same period and its relation to sophistry. Although MacPhail references Aristotle's Rhetoric and treats the "second sophistic" period briefly, noting the writings of Cicero and Quin­ tilian, he does not address the nature of argumentative strategies in terms of subject matter, contingences, or audiences. Sophists, after all, were not the only sages to realize that contingencies required multiple probable answers. The battle of the sophists for recognition of their contributions to knowl­ edge versus the claims of philosophers to own truth continues to surface throughout the work. Paradoxically (and fittingly), the bad reputation of the sophists seems to have ensured their survival. They shocked and fascinated humanists by their skill in demonstrating the truth of opposites. They could, indeed, make the weaker case the stronger. In part two, devoted to what he calls "the antagonism of speech," MacPhail's erudition coupled with a detective's acumen enables him to un­ cover...

Reviews 345 moindre éloge que l'on puisse décerner à ce volume que d'avoir contribué à rendre au sophiste la profondeui, 1 humanité et 1 actualité de son éloquence. Anne-Marie Favreau-Linder Clermont Ferrand Benjamin Kelly, Petitions, Litigation, and Social Control in Roman Egypt. (Oxford Studies in Ancient Documents), Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2011. Pp. xix, 427. ISBN 9780199599615. $150.00. Benjamin Kelly's Petitions, Litigation, and Social Control in Roman Egypt (hereafter PLSCR) is an erudite, original, systematic, and clearly written study of how petitions functioned as instruments of social control in GraecoRoman Egypt from 30 BC to 284 AD. It is unique in surveying, and categoriz­ ing in appendices, the complete published corpus of 568 petitions and 227 proceedings reports from the period. As it is the best and most comprehen­ sive analysis of Graeco-Egyptian papyrus petitions and a landmark in juristic papyrology, as well as providing in-depth analysis of numerous individual petitions, it belongs in the personal libraries of rhetoricians researching late antiquity, and should be consulted by scholars interested in petitioning or forensic rhetoric in other periods. Although the hardcover price of $150 is somewhat daunting for scholars not working in the specific subfield, PLSCR is available via Oxford University Scholarship Online. PLSCR consists of nine chapters (333 pages), a glossary, maps, three appendices, a bibliography and indices. "Chapter 1: Introduction" (pp. 137 ) begins by discussing a small group of petitions concerning an ongoing feud between Satabous and Nestnephis, two Egyptian priests in a village in the Fayoum region. Close analysis of the specific petitions concerning this feud leads to more general discussion of what can legitimately be deduced from extant petitions and the limitations of petitions specifically, and papyri generally, as evidence. In a sense, PLSCR starts as a corpus of evidence in search of a theory. After discussing limitations of methodological frames such as criminality and dispute resolution, Kelly focuses on the theme of social control as a lens through which to analyze his corpus of petitions. Although primarily intended as background information, the lucid treatment of diachronic changes in administrative structure and terminology relevant to petitioning will be particularly valuable to non-papyrologists investigating Graeco-Egyptian rhetoric. The second chapter, "Petitions and Social Elistory" (pp. 38-74), analyzes the nature of petitions as evidence for social history. The treatment of peti­ tions as evidence is sensible and meticulous, addressing patterns of survival, the actual processes and contexts within which petitions were created, pre­ sented, archived, and answered, and the relationship of petitioning to the 346 RHETORICA court system. The description of the interplay of orality and literacy and petition and trial will be of particular interest to rhetoricians. In order to investigate social history through the medium of petition, Kelly, in essence, is trying to read through the petitions to the underlying realities. When he analyzes rhetorical formulae, it is to dismiss formulaic elements as irrele­ vant to determining the "innermost thoughts" of the petitioners and actual events. Thus the elements of petitioning which are of greatest interest to rhetoricians serve, as it were, as obstacles to social history, while the facts of the social historian would be the minimally relevant "atechnai pisteis" for the rhetorician, outside the art of rhetoric proper. "Chapter 3: Legal Control in Roman Egypt" (pp. 75-122) examines the efficacy of the petitioning system as a mechanism of social control. Kelly argues convincingly that Roman administrators' ethos of efficiency and justice was grounded in reality, but that the complexity of the system, with unclear jurisdictions, multiple levels of hierarchy, and limited staffing, made petitioning of limited effectiveness as a formal method of social control, albeit more useful as an informal one. For rhetoricians, the most useful material will be the comprehensive treatment of administrative process, application of multiple simultaneous (i.e. Egyptian, Roman, Jewish, and Greek) systems of law, and the way that petitioners could manipulate the system. Although Kelly's focus is not rhetorical history, this material provides fertile ground for a revaluation of the importance of the translative or jurisdictional stasis, which is normally treated as somewhat of a trivial afterthought, but which appears far more substantial and useful in light...

Reviews 339 He shows the omnipresence of the antilogic of Protagoras in the essays— instability, uncertainty, relativity yield a multiplicity of possibilities. Fortune, or Kairos, dictates the answers. MacPhail deserves great praise for the strength and originality of his arguments, but perhaps some blame as well for a few weaknesses in his study. The book is far too short. In addition to the neglect of the discipline of rhetoric mentioned above, treatment of the relation of antilogic—the hallmark of sophistry—to the practice of classical dialectic is missing, a subject Aristotle treated at length in the Topics. Such a discussion in the first part of the book would have enriched treatment of the principle of non-contradiction and that of the decay of dialectic in the second half. Finally, translations should have been routinely provided for non English quotations. The practice varies. Greek quotations are never translated; Latin often, but not always. Since the author at times points out the centrality of a quotation to his argument, consistently expressing it in English would have secured the point for a wider audience. Despite these caveats, MacPhail has made a significant contribution to classical, neo-Latin and Renaissance studies. Whether he has also shown that the sophists did ultimately effect a relativist revolution among renaissance humanists, as he has argued, may be a subject worthy of future debate, dialogue, or irresolution. Jean Dietz Moss The Catholic University ofAmerica Dino Piovan, Memoria e ohlio della guerra civile: strategie giudiziarie e racconto del passato in Lisia. Studi e testi di storia antica, 19. Pisa: Edizioni ETS, 2011. Pp. 356. ISBN 9788846728258. 22.00 (pb). A partiré dalle parole chiave del titolo, il libro di D.P. illustra attraverso l'oratoria di Lisia le tensioni tra memoria collettiva e coinvolgimento degli individui nelle vicende drammatiche dell'Atene del biennio 405-03, dalla sconfitta finale di Egospotami, alia resa e alTinstaurazione del regime dei Trenta e poi alia sua caduta: anni di sventure, symphorai che divengono pa­ radigma per Timmaginario collettivo e che nel tempo della restaurazione democrática sono da superare attraverso una complessa elaborazione della memoria e deli'oblio: in particolare a confronto col principio del me mnesikakein in funzione della convivenza civile nella ricostituita unitá della polis ateniese, con tutte le difficoltá che ció necessariamente dovette comportare da una parte e dalTaltra tra democratici e oligarchici. Se gli eventi furono problematici, cosí fu il loro peso nella coscienza collettiva. D.P. analizza in dettaglio fatti e memoria cívica attraverso una acuta indagine delle orazioni lisiane che richiamano gli eventi di questo periodo negli anni immediatamente successivi (in particolare le orazioni 12,13, 25, alie quali sono dedicati 340 RHETORICA i primi tre capitoli, ma anche Lys. 31, 16, 26, 30, 18 e 2, che sono discusse più sintéticamente nel quarto capitolo). Ampio è il confronto delle diverse fonti a disposizione, in particolare Senofonte, la Athenaion politeia, Isocrate, Diodoro, le testimonianze epigrafiche, etc., e approfondita è la discussione sulla vasta bibliografía, dai problemi di datazione alie questioni testuali che hanno rilevanza per le questioni trattate (vd. pp. 313-43): il volume si avvale della nuova edizione lisiana di Ch. Carey e del nuovo commento di S. Todd (Oxford 2007). Dell'analisi di D.P. si possono fare qui due esempi relativi alla ricostruzione lisiana, per certi versi contraddittoria, tratti dalle orazioni forensi, e un terzo esempio dalEEpitafio, per il diverso contesto e la sua funzione pubblica. L'orazione Contro Eratostene (Lys. 12), discussa nel cap. 1, è costruita dal punto di vista ideológico come un diretto atto di accusa contro il governo dei Trenta (e in particolare contro uno dei suoi rappresentanti), con una prospettiva certo più ampia rispetto all'uccisione del fratello Polemarco: Li­ sia vi formula la tesi della 'cospirazione oligarchica' che ha condotto Atene alla rovina e ai lutti della guerra civile, un vero e proprio tradimento nei confront! della polis. Una demonizzazione utile, o meglio necessaria per il contesto e per gli obiettivi. Particolare rilievo per il problema della memoria riveste Pinsistenza di Lisia sulla kakia di Teramene e sul suo trasformismo. Le fonti successive muteranno orientamento, ma in Lisia, quando gli eventi sono ancora vicini, non v...

Zasaninienfassinig: Beweise aus den scholia vetera und scholia recentiora bezeugen, daB rhetorische Ausbildung in den Handen der Grammatiker in Byzanz schon frith begann. Sie explizierten die klassischen Texte anhand von Begriffen aus den Progymnasmata und fiihrten rhetorischen Analysen der Texte durch. Die Terminologie in den scholia ist nicht ganz in Einklang mit der die man in ‘mainstream’, auf Hermogenes gegründete Rhetoriklehrbücher findet, und kann aus alteren, vielleicht peripatetischen, Quellen entlehnt sein. Doch der Konflikt der Begriffe war nicht eine Quelle des Unbehagens fur den byzantinischen Lehrer, sondern ein Instrument zum flexiblen Denken.