The Defence of Poesy

Sidney turns from philosophy to history, applying a similar method to its comparison with poetry. Here, he borrows an argument from the Greek philosopher Aristotle’s Poetics, saying that “poesy dealeth with katholou, that is to say, with the universal consideration, and the history with kathekaston, the particular” (35). Being limited to the mere telling of facts, whether they advance the cause of virtue or not, history can only report what has been, not what ought to be. Poetry, on the other hand, can focus on the most useful elements of any story, and can embellish freely in order to teach its lesson.

The author concedes that history can sometimes accomplish the same effect as poetry, when the story being told contains a worthy moral lesson. However, as Sidney tells us, history still cannot equal poetry, since no matter how noble the historian’s narrative, “that may the poet [if he list] with his imitation make his own, beautifying it both for further teaching, and more delighting” (37). Not only does poetry have more freedom to embellish good morals, but it also has the freedom to disregard facts that do not further the cause of virtue; a historian, on the other hand, is bound to report even stories with poor moral lessons.

Sidney has previously argued that poetry has more freedom than the other genres to embellish and enliven moral lessons; what remains is to show, most importantly, that poetry moves the audience to “virtuous action.” The author explains: “For [the poet] doth not only show the way, but giveth so sweet a prospect into the way, as will entice any man to enter into it” (39-40). Philosophy teaches but does not delight, and history delights but does not teach. Therefore, neither discipline stirs its audience to action as poetry does. Sidney concludes that “as virtue is the most excellent resting place for all worldly learning to make his end of, so poetry, being the most familiar to teach it, and most princely to move towards it, in the most excellent work is the most excellent workman” (42). 

Sidney now moves from literary genres to the specific subgenres of poetry. As he explains, he does this “so that [...] perchance in some one defectuous piece we may find blemish” (43). Listing each poetic genre in turn, the author considers what detractors might criticize in these poems.

Sidney acknowledges pastoral first as a generally disliked genre since the characters and subject matter tend to be mundane and rustic. However, the author argues that there are great lessons to be learned from stories of the oppressed. Turning to elegiac poetry, Sidney defends the lamentations of this genre as either showing just compassion, or disdaining weakness, depending on the circumstances. Describing iambic as “bitter but wholesome” (44), Sidney turns to satiric poetry, which he argues inspires the audience to contemplate their own folly while laughing at the folly of others.

Regarding the more widely admired poetic genres, Sidney first praises the didactic value of comic poetry. While comedy often shows ridiculous and immoral behavior, good comedy also shows the failings of such behavior. Tragedy requires little defense from Sidney since the value of its lofty themes is self-evident.

Lyric poetry, we learn, is primarily concerned with praising great deeds; but in the wrong hands, this sort of poetry only stokes the vanity of wealthy patrons. Sidney argues that the blame for this lies with the poets and not the poetry since the praise of truly great deeds ought to “awake the thoughts from the sleep of idleness to embrace honourable enterprises” (47). Finally, the author turns to heroic poetry (also known as epic). This genre “teacheth and moveth to the most high and excellent truth” (47) with its well-known stories of great heroes. Sidney ends his “Examination” section with a brief summary of the preceding arguments, concluding that poetry is the worthiest form of learning.