Images of Lovers in Geoffrey Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde
One of the most striking elements of Troilus and Criseyde is the difference in Chaucer’s presentation of the two lovers. Whereas Troilus is certainly the better person of the two, I intend to show that the reader ultimately finds it easier to identify with and believe in the character of Criseyde, since she is by far the more credibly human in her actions and thoughts.
One of the most essential factors in how the reader views the two characters is due to the narrator himself – from the first scene, the reader feels as though they know Troilus and the way in which he thinks. This is not difficult, since Troilus is, as soon as he sees Criseyde during Palladion’s festival, almost unable to think straight with love. The reader feels sympathy for his situation – consumed by a love so intense he can do nothing but lie in his bedchamber. However, the reader also feels a certain annoyance at Troilus’ inability to act on his feelings, as well as at his self-absorption. It is not until the final act – when Troilus begins to take some responsibility for his own actions – that he truly fills his citation as the play’s ‘hero,’ and in his realisation is reconciled with the reader.
What exactly do we mean by ‘hero?’ The word has two connotations in this instance. The first is that laid out in Aristotle’s definition of classical tragedy, on which Troilus and Criseyde relies. Troilus is a tragic hero in every sense since he possesses all the relevant traits. These are, “having a high social position, not being overly good or bad, being persistent in their actions, arousing pity in the audience, a revelatory manifestation, and having a single flaw that brings about their own demise and the demise of others around them.” Troilus possesses all of the above attributes. His ‘tragic flaw’ is his inability to see past his love for Criseyde. However, it may be argued that this is not valid as a flaw, as his all-encompassing love is meted out by the god of love, rather than being a result of any fault of Troilus’.
It is also an aspect of the tragic hero to become reconciled with one’s flaw in the dying moments of the tragedy. Troilus is no exception; as he dies and makes his ascent to heaven, he laughs at his tragedy, and the folly of human obsession with earthly passions. Indeed, Chaucer closes the poem with a discourse on turning to God:
“O yonge, fresshe folks, he or she,
[…] of youre herte up casteth the visage […] to thilke God”
Troilus learns, albeit after his death, that the agonising of humans is insignificant in comparison with the love of God.
Troilus is certainly less appealing to the reader than is Criseyde, though this is not the case throughout the poem. As the poem opens, Troilus is ‘hitte atte full’ by love’s arrow, and becomes a nervous wreck; unable to speak of or act on his love for Criseyde. The reader feels sympathy for his plight – Troilus is, to a certain extent, a victim of fate. However, we also feel somewhat exasperated by Troilus; unlike his friend Pandarus, Troilus finds himself completely incapacitated by the effect that his love for Criseyde is having on him. It is fair to say that without Pandarus’ influence, Troilus would have simply pined away without confessing his love.
Pandarus acts as the mediator or ‘middleman’ between the lovers; another classical Aristotelian device. However, as the story progresses, Pandarus finds himself less and less involved in the exchanges between his best friend and his niece. Towards the end of Book IV, as Criseyde is to be exchanged for Antenor, Troilus gains the ability to control his actions. It is a refreshing change to read that, instead of simply lamenting his bad fortune, Troilus seeks to resolve matters himself. He rides out to see the exchange take place, and gives his love a brooch, which she later gives to Diomed. Troilus is undoubtedly still very much in love with Criseyde, but he appears to have learnt to put his emotions aside and think rationally. It is at this point that the reader begins to genuinely feel for Troilus; now a far more valiant and appealing character than the one who fainted when in Criseyde’s presence. In the opening verses of Book V, the reader learns that Troilus ‘…gan his wo ful manly for to hide,’ a stark contrast to his earlier conduct.
If the reader gains esteem for Troilus as the poem progresses, then the opposite may be said to be true of Criseyde. We are introduced to Criseyde at the same time as we are Troilus – at Palladion’s feast. However, we are only told of her beauty and her widowhood. It is only when Pandarus visits her early in Book II that we learn anything of her true character. As Pandarus explains Troilus’ affections, and attempts to woo her in his stead, the reader’s impression is of a thoughtful and sensible woman. Whereas the narrator demonstrates Troilus’ thought processes in his actions, we are given two entirely views of Criseyde. We see her through her actions – always carefully planned out and fitting for a woman of her social standing and position. The narrator also furnishes the reader with a view of Criseyde’s thoughts, such as in the aforementioned expository scene:
“And if this man here sle himself – allas! –
In my presence, it wol be no solace.
What men wolde of hit deme I kan nat seye;
It nedeth me ful sleighly for to pleie.”
It should be noted when citing this extract that the word ‘sleighly’ is not the direct antecedent to the modern word ‘slyly,’ but is closer to ‘shrewdly’ or ‘adroitly’ . Nevertheless, this is an excellent example of the manner in which Criseyde always has one eye on how events will reflect on herself. This device of contrasting Criseyde’s actions with her thoughts, which are often more rational and occasionally self-serving, lends her character an extra facet, and adds to her credibility.
Criseyde is certainly the most convincingly human character in the poem. She is far from perfect, and could certainly be construed as selfish, despite the narrator’s perpetual efforts to present her in a more charitable light than the accounts of ‘Troilus and Criseyde’ that Chaucer used as his references; particularly Giovanni Bocaccio’s ‘Il Filostrato,’ in which ‘Criseida’ is a far more vindictive and selfish type than Chaucer’s character. Chaucer’s reader of is led to the belief that Criseyde truly loved Troilus.
The narrator’s approach to presenting Criseyde in a generous light is not entirely convincing. Whilst a great show is made of her love for Troilus and her bewailing of the romance’s end, the narrator chooses to play down her betrayal of Troilus, telling the reader that ‘Swich is this world.’ In the opening to Book IV, Chaucer tells us that;
“Allas, that [writen folk] sholde evere cause fynde
To speke hire harm! And if they on her lye,
Iwis, hemself sholde han the vilanye.”
The verb ‘lye’ can, in this case, be equated with the modern ‘slander.’ Why should the narrator seem so keen to give a more generous account of Criseyde? Perhaps Chaucer is seeking to make the romance more tragic by lending more credibilty to the passion between the two lovers.
The narrator’s regular self-deprecation serves to make the reader feel more omniscient in the story, and the generous presentation of Criseyde has the same effect: the reader finds he is able to recognise the narrator’s patent efforts to give a kinder impression of Criseyde. Once these are recognised, they are called into question. This ingenious contrivance allows Chaucer to give the reader distinct impressions of his characters whilst apparently holding them from his narrator.
We have established, then, that Criseyde is not a perfect character, but to what extent can and does the reader admire her? Certainly her composure is commendable – Pandarus’ speeches place her in numerous potentially compromising situations, all of which Criseyde manages to evade. She appears to have a capability for finding working compromises, whilst always ensuring that nothing occurs without her express consent. At first glance, it may appear that in the bedroom scene of Book III, Criseyde is coerced by Pandarus into sleeping with Troilus. Indeed, Pandarus’ scheme is typically intricate, but the narrator again takes pains to demonstrate Criseyde’s integrity. As Pandarus leaves the two in bed together, Troilus tells Criseyde to ‘yelde yow, for other bote is non,’ to which she replies:
“Ne hadde I er now, my swete herte deere,
Ben yolde, ywis, I were now nought heere!”
Criseyde is, evidently, the mistress of her own destiny, and is the most ‘in control’ of the three main protagonists, despite the fact that Pandarus engineers most of the lovers’ meetings. Though she cannot control Pandarus’ schemes, she is always able to dictate matters when the two meet. The reader’s impression is that nothing transpires against Criseyde’s will.
This does not remain the case; whereas the only protagonists in the first three books are Troilus, Pandarus and Criseyde, the fourth and fifth books see the advent and effect of outside influences. The siege of Troy acts as ‘fate’ in the tragedy, and intercedes in the romance. Criseyde’s loss of control over events can be equated with Chaucer’s loss of the ability to direct the narrative in any way other than its inescapable conclusion. The sense of the inevitable pervades the whole poem, but is felt the most strongly when the exchange of Criseyde for Antenor is announced. Chaucer even cites this inability to control events – both for his own position, and for the hopelessness of his characters’ plights. Chaucer bemoans the predestined nature of the rest of his story in the opening of Book IV:
“And now my penne, allas, with which I write,
Quaketh for drede of that I moste endite.”
The reader’s sympathy for Criseyde increases as her situation becomes more helpless – particularly since it is clear that she genuinely loves Troilus, and is grief-stricken upon having to leave him. However, Criseyde does not appear in a good light at the end of the story – she has betrayed her lover, and has incurred the hate of her uncle. It is inescapable that, in spite of all the narrator’s efforts, Criseyde’s very role in the poem means that she cannot be ultimately an admirable character: again, the theme of inevitability is illustrated. However, the reader may still find her to be the more appealing, since her humanity makes it easier to sympathise with her position.
In conclusion, it is clear that the reader’s impression of the two lovers is by no means constant. Whilst Troilus begins the poem with a number of exasperating characteristics, we see Criseyde as an astute and sensible woman. At the poem’s close, however, Troilus appears to have gained some perspective on life as it relates to his passion, whereas Criseyde has fallen from grace in our eyes. The reader is doubly sympathetic towards Troilus, since even in the face of Criseyde’s blatant infidelity, he not only still loves her, but always has her wellbeing foremost in his mind. When debating to himself during the exchange of Criseyde whether he should fight Diomed, his first thoughts are for her safety:
“He hadde in herte always a manere drede
Lest that Criseyde, in rumour of this fare,
Sholde han ben slayn; […]”
Troilus’ love and how he deals with his passionate feelings are his defining features in the poem. Criseyde’s love never feels fully convincing; the impression is that her love is something she has decided on and learnt to accept, as opposed to than the thunderbolt with which the god of love strikes Troilus.
The reader certainly finds that Criseyde is more credible a character than Troilus. She is far more grounded and human than Troilus, who always seems too romantic and idealistic to be plausible. Criseyde is pragmatic and self-regarding, but is far more appealing to the reader than Troilus, who is valiant and true, but does not wash as a believable character. Perhaps in this respect the pairing could never have lasted; “Criseyde is a person and will not, cannot, be Troilus’s ideal. ” – It is significant that at the end of the book Criseyde is still alive in the world of the practical, whereas Troilus’ classically romantic spirit has ascended to paradise.
