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Articles Conference Reviews |
2008J11SmythImperial and Religious Rhetorics in Renaissance England The first two speakers in this session—Justin Thurman and Cristy Beemer—provided an respective examination of George Herbert’s religious rhetoric and the monarchical rhetorical strategies employed by England’s first two women rulers during the sixteenth century: Mary I and her half-sister Elizabeth I. The third speaker, Tom Alibrandi, illustrated effective pedagogical projects drawn from his experiences teaching writing to students from a vast variety of linguistic and cultural backgrounds at American University of Sharjah in the United Arab Emirates. Professor Alibrandi’s presentation may have seemed like an anomaly in a session on Renaissance England, but his strategy to promote authentic writing through personal and collaborative class chronicles gave a very real sense of what is involved in the tasks of making history, rhetoric, and identity—tasks that Herbert and the two rulers of England from 1553-1603 would have recognized as quite relevant. In “The Good Parson Preaching Well: The Case for a Herbertian Rhetoric,” Justin Thurman analyzed the moral architecture of Herbert’s ideal rhetorician, who blends honest intention with practical consideration of local context to discover the best means for delivery. For Thurman, Herbert’s ideal parson must confirm and confront, allowing the audience to use observation and induction as a means of instilling faith. Words are empty without example, so we see the preacher as an intermediary in “The Window,” his character acting as a vessel through which the congregation sees the truth. In response to the vexing question of the poem’s opening lines—“LORD, how can man preach thy eternall word? / He is a brittle crazie glasse”—Herbert propounds that the preacher must combine “Doctrine and life,” for “speech alone / Doth vanish like a flaring thing, / And in the eare, not conscience ring.” The necessary ethical character of the preacher confirmed, Herbert looks to the ideal style and form of delivery. In “Jordan I” and “Jordan II,” Herbert illustrates the transformation of the preacher to the poet. The parson must be a communicator with a purpose, and the most effective way to reach his audience is through poetry. The preacher-poet must move through poetic strategies of composition, struggling to find the ideal words for conversion and godly representation (and consciously employing intense revision—“I often blotted what I had begunne”). Ultimately, the parson finds the ideal form and style, a theological epiphany through poetic language: “There is in love a sweetnesse readie penn'd:/ Copie out only that, and save expense.” In his discussion of Herbert’s rhetoric, Thurman noted the interchangeability of the body of the parson and the metaphysical body of the church running through The Temple. In her examination of the rhetoric of Mary and Elizabeth Tudor in “The Real and the Reflection: Rhetorical Strategies of Early Modern Female Rule,” Cristy Beemer elucidated how both monarchs used “embodied apophasis” to make their female bodies a site of power in a patriarchal age. Apophasis is the rhetorical strategy of denying something in order to call attention to it. One might firmly announce, for example, that “I’m not going to say another word about my opponent’s youthful experimentation with cocaine,” reminding the audience all the while that the other candidate might still have some explaining to do about youthful drug use. In the case of Mary I and Elizabeth I, with a country unused to the idea of women’s rule, the monarchs attracted attention to their bodies—a point of weakness in a pointedly patriarchal culture—precisely in order to flip that image, employing a mirror strategy that appeared to fulfill stereotypes only to undermine them. Mary, for example, in her first major speech, focuses on the language of coronation: she lets her audience believe she’s “the wife” in the political relationship with her country, but she’s embodying the role of the husband. The people have promised their willingness to obey, which is the wife’s role in the Book of Common Prayer. Thus, she takes on the husband’s part. Elizabeth’s first speech before parliament mirrors Mary’s; she too casts herself firmly in the role of the wife, which allows her to check societal expectations that she will fill this role, thus not having to marry. The new monarch employs a tactical enthymeme: if she’s married to England, then the English are her children, so nothing further needs to be said. Elizabeth effectively silences the marriage debate by calling attention to her political fulfillment of the stereotypical role for women—wife and mother. Both monarchs generate a sense of voice, identity, and authority in their early years by speaking to their subjects in terms that seem familiar (that is, conformative), only to subvert and convert that familiarity into respectful distance. For Tom Alibrandi, bridging the distance between western academic practices and the many educational conventions that are brought to bear on his campus in the UAE required innovative rhetorical and pedagogical strategies. Teaching writing in English to students from ninety different countries often means moving from an oral culture to a written one. According to Alibrandi, the students make their history as they walk it, so he creates a collaborative class chronicle—one in which they write down their history day by day. This strategy not only engrains writing as an instrument to structure historical thought, but it also provides opportunities for metacognition and critical feedback on class practices. The collaborative chronicle is both a “reflection on action and a reflection in action.” With their written observations on class activities, homework, and social interactions on and off campus, the students become much more critical about their process of learning; they are transformed into independent learners, but at the same time they recognize the need for interdependence within their groups. This kind of project and its associated outcomes, of course, would serve well in composition classes in North American institutions, as students recognize the increasing need to create and scrutinize their daily histories. At the same time, we need to recognize the many strategies for representation employed by students in other histories. In the case of this panel, George Herbert, Mary I, and Elizabeth I have plenty to offer as continued examination of their works produces helpful insights about rhetorical strategies in distant yet familiar contexts. |