Sir Phillip Sidney

Sir Philip Sidney (1554–86) was a high-ranking member of Elizabethan high society, whose

father had “at various points in time, run both Ireland and Wales for the Queen” (Alexander

2004, liii). At the age of 22, Sidney was appointed ambassador to the Holy Roman Emperor

Rudolph II. His mission was brilliantly successful and he looked set for a glittering political

career. And yet this career never materialized. As with Plato, whose privileged background

destined him for a prominent role in politics but who chose philosophy against the grain, Sidney

had nothing to gain by wasting his time on literary pursuits. And yet, as inexpediently as in the

case of Plato, Sidney wrote poetry and plays in the English vernacular, at a time when English

literature was still in its nascent state, and attempted to translate several classical works into

English, including Aristotle’s Rhetoric (highly relevant to Sidney’s view of poetry’s

“forcibleness”), with varying degrees of success. He also wrote The Defense of Poesy,

alternatively titled An Apology for Poetry (c. 1580–81), considered the outstanding Elizabethan

treatise on poetry and arguably the first major piece of literary theory in English. Unlike Plato,

Sidney didn’t publicly choose literature or abandon his political aspirations. He did not intend

his literary works for publication, perhaps because publication was considered indecorous for a

courtier. None of his many literary works were published in his lifetime, though he circulated

manuscripts privately within a narrow circle of friends. Katherine Duncan Jones has argued that

as the queen approached the end of her child-bearing years, and especially after the collapse of

plans to marry Alençon in 1582, Sidney was “in the eyes of some almost a crown prince”

(2002, ix). However, by 1585 Sidney was personally poor and politically undervalued and

underused. Then his fortunes appeared to be changing for the better when Elizabeth appointed
him governor of Flushing in the Netherlands, where the queen had sent troops against Spain. In

Flushing Sidney was wounded by a bullet during a raid, the wound became infected and he died

a “soldier’s death” (Duncan-Jones 2002, vii) in 1586 at the tender age of 32. His work was

published after his death to European acclaim.

Sidney wrote The Defence of Poesy before Shakespeare, Marlowe, Donne and Ben Jonson had

reached maturity. He doesn’t strive for originality; indeed, originality is not an established

literary ideal at the time. On the Medieval and Renaissance criticism 65 contrary, he devotes a

lot of space to engaging with the classical tradition. Sidney pronounces his respect for and

shows detailed knowledge of various works of Plato and Aristotle. He refers to many passages

in Plato and Aristotle, including those we have discussed in previous chapters (Goulimari,

2014).

An Apology for Poetry (1595)

Sidney’s Apologie for Poetrie (1580–1581) is in many ways a seminal text of literary criticism.

It is not only a defense but also one of the most acclaimed treatises on poetics of its time. While

its ideas are not original, it represents the first synthesis in the English language of the various

strands and concerns of Renaissance literary criticism, drawing on Aristotle, Horace, and more

recent writers such as Boccaccio and Julius Caesar Scaliger. It raises issues – such as the value

and function of poetry, the nature of imitation, and the concept of nature – which were to

concern literary critics in numerous languages until the late eighteenth century.

Sidney’s Arguments
 Sidney’s initial argument is that poetry was the first form in which knowledge was

expressed, the “first light-giver to ignorance”. The first Greek philosophers Thales,

Empedocles, Parmenides, and Pythagoras, he points out, expressed their vision in verse.

Even Plato used poetic devices such as dialogue and description of setting and

circumstance to adorn his philosophy (217). Again, historians such as Herodotus have

borrowed the “fashion” and the “weight” of poetry. Sidney concludes here that “neither

philosopher nor historiographer, could at the first have entered into the gates of popular

judgments, if they had not taken a great passport of poetry” (218). His point is that an

essential prerequisite of knowledge is pleasure in learning; and it is poetry that has made

each of these varieties of knowledge – scientific, moral, philosophical, political –

accessible by expressing them in pleasurable forms.

 Sidney’s second argument might be called the “argument from tradition” since it appeals

to the ancient Roman and Greek conceptions of poetry and “stands upon their authorities”

(219). The Roman term for the poet was vates, meaning “diviner, foreseer, or prophet.

Sidney argues that this definition of the poet was quite “reasonable,” as shown by the fact

that the Psalms of David are a “divine poem,” whereby prophecy is expressed in a poetic

manner.

 Sidney reminds the reader that the Greek origin of the English word “poet” was the word

poiein, meaning “to make” (220). Every art, says Sidney, has “the works of Nature” for

its “principal object”: the astronomer, for example, observes the stars as ordered in

nature, and the geometrician and arithmetician examine quantities as ordered in nature;

the natural philosopher examines physical nature, and the moral philosopher considers
 the natural virtues and vices. The poet, however, is free of any such subjection or

dependence on nature: in making things either better than Nature bringeth forth, or, quite

anew forms such as never were in Nature. As such, the poet’s “making” or production is

superior to nature.

 The ultimate aim of this kind of poetry is moral: the poet imitates, says Sidney, in order

“both to delight and teach.” Sidney tries to establish poetry as the discipline most suited

to the purpose of learning. The poet’s chief competitors in this regard, thinks Sidney, will

be the moral philosopher and the historian. The former will claim that his path to virtue is

the most direct since he will teach what virtue and vice are, how passion must be

mastered, and how the domain of virtue extends into family and society (227). The

historian, on the other hand, will claim that moral philosophers merely teach virtue “by

certain abstract considerations,” whereas his own discipline, history, will offer concrete

examples of virtue based on the “experience of many ages”.

Sidney argued that both disciplines are thus one-sided, they are both deficient: the

philosopher sets down the “bare rule” in difficult terms that are “abstract and general”;

the historian, conversely, lacks the force of generalization and is “tied, not to what should

be, but to what is, to the particular truth of things”.

It is the “peerless poet,” according to Sidney, who performs both functions: “he

coupleth the general notion with the particular example.” The poet paints a “perfect

picture” of the philosopher’s abstract insight, providing an image of what in philosophy is

merely a “wordish description” (229). It is poetry which can strike the soul and the

inward sentiments by means of “a true lively knowledge.” The philosopher’s declarations

(230). It is poetry which brings to life all the virtues, vices, and passions, and hence the

“feigned images” of poetry have “more force in teaching” than the “regular instruction”

of philosophy (231).

And, whereas the philosopher teaches “obscurely” such that only learned people

can understand him, the “poet is the food for the tenderest stomachs, the poet is indeed

the right popular philosopher,” as shown by Aesop’s fables, which use accessible

allegories (231). The power of poetry to move or influence people, says Sidney, “is of a

higher degree than teaching . . . it is well nigh the cause and the effect of teaching” (236).

For people to be taught, they must first be filled with desire to learn: citing Aristotle’s

dictum that the fruit of learning must not be merely gnosis (knowing) but praxis (doing),

Sidney holds that poetry inspires people to perform what philosophy merely teaches in

the abstract.

As for the poet’s superiority over the historian, Sidney appeals to Aristotle’s

statement that “poetry is philosophoteron and spoudaioteron, that is to say, it is more

philosophical, and more studiously serious, than history” (232). Sidney cites Aristotle’s

view that poetry deals with the kathalou or universal, whereas history concerns the

kathekaston, the particular. the particular is constrained by what actually happened,

whereas the universal comprehends actions or words which are appropriate in terms of

probability or necessity (232). Sidney even argues that a fictional presentation of a

character as he “should be” is preferable to a portrayal of the actual historical character in

his imperfection. A “feigned example,” he says, has “as much force to teach, as a true
 example” (233). Since the historian is tied to reality, he is not at liberty to present the

ideal pattern of people or events, whereas the poet can “frame his example to that which

is most reasonable” (233). Moreover, whatever the historian can relate in terms of true

events, the poet can make by his own imitation, “beautifying it both for further teaching,

and more delighting, . . . having all . . . under the authority of his pen” (234).

 Sidney now undertakes a defense of the various genres of poetry that shows clearly the

moral and theological functions he assigns to this art. Sidney considers heroic poetry to

be the “best, and most accomplished kind of poetry” since it both “instructeth the mind”

and “most inflameth the mind with desire to be worthy” (244). The function of poetry for

Sidney, as manifested in these comments, is threefold: to teach people the substance of

virtue; to move people to virtuous action; and, underlying these two functions, to impress

upon people the transitory and worthless nature of worldly affairs. The poet is historian

and moral philosopher, but above all, preacher and theologian.

 Sidney now addresses the specific charges brought against poetry. The first is that there

are other kinds of knowledge more fruitful than poetry. Sidney states that the greatest

gifts bestowed upon human beings are oratio and ratio, speech and reason. It is poetry

which most polishes the gift of speech, and it “far exceedeth prose” on two accounts: it

engenders delight because of its meticulous ordering of words, and therefore it is

memorable. Since knowledge depends on memory, poetry has an affinity with knowledge

(246–247). Moreover, since poetry “teacheth and moveth to virtue,” there can be no

“more fruitful knowledge” than this.

that “the poet . . . nothing affirms, and therefore never lieth” (248). Unlike the historian,

the poet does not claim to be telling the truth; he is not relating “what is, or is not, but

what should or should not be.” He is writing “not affirmatively, but allegorically, and

figuratively”.

 The next objection to poetry is that it “abuseth men’s wit, training it to wanton sinfulness,

and lustful love” (250). The fault here, says Sidney, is with particular poets who have

abused their art, not with the art itself. It is not that “poetry abuseth man’s wit, but that,

man’s wit abuseth poetry” (250). Even the word of God, says Sidney, when abused, can

breed heresy and blasphemy.

 The final, and perhaps most serious, charge that Sidney confronts is that Plato banished

poets from his ideal republic, some claiming that, as a philosopher, Plato was “a natural

enemy of poets” (253). Sidney suggests that Plato opposed the abuse of poetry rather than

the art itself: he charged the poets of his day with promulgating false opinions of the gods

which might corrupt the youth (255). The dangers of such false belief have now been

removed by Christianity. Sidney also cites Plato’s dialogue Ion as giving a “divine

commendation to poetry,” viewing poetry as inspired by “a divine force, far above man’s

wit” (255–256). He also cites the authority of many great figures who admired poetry,

including Aristotle, Alexander, Plutarch, and Caesar (256).

Conclusion

Sidney ends his text with a lamentation, rather than an inquiry, over the impoverished state to

which poetry has declined in England. Poetry has become the province of “base men, with
servile wits” (258). While he acknowledges that poetry is a “divine gift” and dependent on

genius, Sidney bemoans the fact that these would-be poets ignore the need to labor at their craft,

a craft whose principles must be “art, imitation, and exercise” (i.e., genius, imitation of the

models of earlier writers, and practice) (259). He concludes by admonishing the reader no more

to scorn this sacred art, reminding him of his earlier arguments and the various authorities he

has invoked. He entreats the reader to believe that “there are many mysteries contained in

poetry, which of purpose were written darkly, least by profane wits, it should be abused” (269).

And he curses those who are possessed of “so earth-creeping a mind, that it cannot lift itself up,

to look to the sky of poetry” (270). The metaphor here truly encapsulates the entire thrust of

Sidney’s text. Formerly, sacred scripture was spoken of in this fashion, as written “darkly,” so

as to lie beyond the reach of unworthy eyes; in Sidney’s text, poetry is elevated to that sacred

status: in its very nature it is opposed to worldliness and “earthcreeping” concerns; it is the

newly appointed heaven of human invention and endeavor.

References

Goulimari, P. (2014). Literary criticism and theory: From Plato to Postcolonialism. Routledge.

Habib, M. A. R. (2005). A history of literary criticism: from Plato to the present. John Wiley & Sons.