A Defence of Poetry by Philip Sidney


Four and a half centuries ago in Elizabethan England, there were a lot of well-meaning Puritans who saw imaginative literature as a waste of time. These folks argued that Christians should read only the Bible, or if they do read something else, they should read only theology, science, history, or philosophy (i.e., ethical teaching). Imaginative fiction and poetry were not appropriate reading for the Christian.

One of these Puritans, Stephen Gosson, wrote a pamphlet that attacked imaginative literature for these reasons. Gosson called his pamphlet The School of Abuse, and he dedicated it to Sir Philip Sidney because Gosson saw Sidney as a fine Christian gentleman, and he figured that Sidney would agree with him that imaginative literature was not appropriate for Christians to read.

But to the author’s surprise, Sidney completely disagreed. Sidney recognized that such a view of literature, although it has good intentions, is wrong—and even unbiblical. Sidney knew that the Bible itself was filled with poetry and narrative art, and that it even includes fictional stories such as the parables of Christ.

So in response to Gosson, Sidney wrote A Defence of Poetry. (By using the term “poetry,” Sidney actually means all imaginative literature—poetry, fiction, and so forth.)

This is a very important work because it validates the many Biblical reasons for the place of literature and stories in a Christian’s life. In this work, Sidney shows that imaginative literature can actually be more effective than subjects like history and ethics at instilling right affections in the Christian life.

Here is a highly condensed version of Sidney’s argument for literature (with some of my comments interspersed):

First, Sidney points out that imaginative literature has been esteemed in all civilized cultures.

Specifically, Sidney discusses how the Greeks, the Romans, and the Hebrews prized poetry and imaginative literature. In these cultures, poets were held in great honor. In Rome, poets were known as “prophets.” In Greece, poets were known as “makers” or creators. These were titles of dignity and honor. The Hebrew poet-prophets wrote down poetry from the very mouth of God.

Sidney’s strongest argument in this section is that much of the Bible itself is given to us in literary form, not through mere abstract teaching. The Bible has lots of stories, lots of poetry, and it shows lots of imagination in its narrative design. Sidney includes two examples of imaginative/artistic literature in the Bible: (1) the Psalms—they teach through highly artistic poetry, not strict prose; and (2) the parables of Christ—they teach through imaginative, fictional narrative stories. So imaginative literature is not condemned in Scripture, but promoted. The Puritans are wrong that literary forms of writing are unbiblical. Yes, they can be misused, but the forms themselves are good.

Second, in response to the false argument that “literature is not true,” Sidney points out that literature does portray truth.

As Christian writer Gene Edward Veith points out, “Sidney [shows] that there is a connection between artistic creation and truth. Fiction is related to truth, as in the manner of the parables, ‘allegorically and figuratively.’ The truth of a novel is in its meaning, not its facts.”

As others have put it, history shows us what happened; literature shows us what happens.

Third, Sidney also points out that writing poetry/fiction is a way that human beings demonstrate God’s image in a unique way.

When we write fiction and show creativity, we image forth God Himself in a way that no other created thing can. God is the great Creator of nature. He created nature out of His own imagination. When human beings write stories, they show God-likeness in that they become creators of imaginary worlds. Again, we are unique among all creation by having the faculty of imagination—and we can use this gift consciously for His praise.

Fourth, Sidney points out that literature can be more powerful than any other discipline in giving human beings a desire for virtue and goodness.

Sidney points out that the purpose of literature is to teach through delight. After reading good literature, we often desire to be people who act virtuously from the heart—action which Sidney says is “the end of all earthly learning.” In other words, Sidney shows that literature helps us become better people because it shapes both our mind and our affections—the head and the heart.

As he continues, Sidney compares literature to history and philosophy (by which he means ethical and moral teaching). As he does, he shows that literature tends to be more effective than these other disciplines at drawing men to virtuous behavior. Sidney points out that . . .

1. Literature tends to be better than philosophy (moral instruction) at drawing people to virtue.

Philosophy teaches only by precept. Philosophy’s strength is that it has consistency and clarity. But its weakness is that it has only weak motivation. (Moral teaching/sermonizing tends to be simply unengaging to the hearers. It's not engaging to sit and listen to a long list of precepts, although it's important and right to do so sometimes.)

In contrast, literature moves our hearts toward virtue. When we read a good story, we are exhilarated—we delight—when good triumphs over evil. In good stories, our hearts are drawn to what is good and right. As Gene Veith points out, “Stories are often better teachers than abstract discourses or straightforward exhortations) as preachers know, who usually fill their sermons with anecdotes and examples to illustrate their points and to move their congregations.”

2. Literature tends to be better than history at drawing people to virtue.

History teaches us by real-life examples. Its strength is that it motivates us to do better, but its weakness is that history is unclear and inconsistent (in real life, sometimes the bad guys “win,” and people who do what is right seem to “lose”). History tells us only what is, not what ought to be. Good literature, however, tells us what ought to be.

To sum up, good literature has the strengths of both history and philosophy, but not the weaknesses. It is both motivating (like history) and instructive (like philosophy).

Sidney says this: “For [the writer] doth not only show the way [of virtue], but giveth it so sweet a prospect into the way, as will entice any man to enter it. . . . He beginneth not with obscure definitions [which bore the listener]; but he cometh to you with words set in delightful proportion . . . and with a tale forsooth he cometh unto you, with a tale which holdeth children from play, and old men from the chimney corner. And pretending no more, doth intend the winning of the mind from wickedness to virtue: even as the child is often brought to take most wholesome things by hiding them in such other as have a pleasant taste.”

In the last paragraph of this essay, Sidney playfully “curses” those who attack literature, and I’ll leave you with his words:

“But if—fie of such a but!—you be born so near the dull-making cataract of Nilus, that you cannot hear the planet-like music of poetry; if you have so earth-creeping a mind that it cannot lift itself up to look to the sky of poetry, or rather, by a certain rustical disdain, will become such a mome, as to be a Momus of poetry; then, though I will not wish unto you the ass’ ears of Midas, nor to be driven by a poet’s verses, as Bubonax was, to hang himself; nor to be rimed to death, as is said to be done in Ireland; yet thus much curse I must send you in the behalf of all poets:—that while you live in love, and never get favor for lacking skill of a sonnet; and when you die, your memory die from the earth for want of an epitaph.”


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