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When one compares, in broad terms, the
thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, an
overlapping of values undoubtedly takes place.
Trends are never clear-cut. Often, pigeon-holing
and theorizing are the intellectual aftermaths of
untidy practice. Nevertheless, in the most general
sense, the fourteenth century represents a shift in
emphasis away from the thirteenth-century's faith
in the harmony between the sacred and the
secular. As Donald Grout summarizes in *A
History of Western Music*, "the philosophy of the
fourteenth century...tended to regard human
reason and divine revelation as disjunct."(1)
Relating this notion, more specifically, to the arts,
he concludes: "Literature, education, and the arts
alike participated in a movement away from the
relatively stable, unified, religiously centered
viewpoint of the thirteenth century toward
absorption in the varied and changing phenomena
of human life in this world."(2) Chaucer is the
spokesman for this worldly variety. The
ramifications, as reflected in his art, in this case,
*Troilus and Criseide*, are two-fold. First, from
the twelth century on, secular change and
instability intrude on the largely static feudal world
view. And second, any carry-over from the
thirteenth-century's philosophical, social structure
is stylized and formalized. This is particularly true
in the case of chivalry which has always been an
intellectual code rather than a natural source of
late medieval behavior and action. In *Troilus and
Criseide*, such effects are embodied in Chaucer's
use of the theory of universal harmony which
provides the poem's overall unity, though it is, in
the end, a superimposed one.
If *Troilus and Criseide* were solely a
thirteenth-century work, the building of an
elaborate, rather esoteric structure would be its
chief concern; character portrayal and motivation
would be secondary. At first glance, *Troilus* most
strongly creates this impression. The courtly love
tradition is accurately transmitted, for instance.
Love and the chivalric code not only provide a
sense of order, but act as a motivating force for
Troilus, and in instances, Pandarus and Criseide.
In this latter case, structure may be said to act
consistently with character portrayal, structure
actually blending in, becoming one with the
fictional character. Thus, love is, to the medieval
mind, the highest expression of artistic order since
it is the basis for internal character motivation and
a confirmation of the outer, though decaying,
feudal / religious world. Form is, therefore, not
personalized or subjective; and such is reflected
in Chaucer's adherence to the troubadour,
Provencal love lyric.(3)
For example, *The Song of Troilus*, taken from
Petrarch's 88th Sonnet, is pure convention and
reflects the typical reactions, i.e., "torment and
adversitee," required by any love-smitten knight.
Even Pandarus is influenced by love and provides
the motive for his stylized woe and self-enclosure,
taking him to his bed-chamber:
In May, that moder is of monthes glade,
That fresshe flowres blewe and white and rede
Been quike again, that winter dede made,
And ful of baume is fleting every mede,
Whan Phebus dooth his brighte bemes sprede
Right in the White Bole, it so bitidde,
As I shal singe, on Mayes day the thridde,
That Pandarus, for al his wise speeche,
Felte eek his part of loves shottes keene,
That coude he nevere so wel of loving preche,
It made his hewe aday ful ofte greene;
So shoop it that him fil that day a teene
In love, for whicih in wo to bed he wente
And made er it was day ful many a wente.(4)
As these lines suggest, the courtly love tradition
here makes Troilus and Pandarus virtually
interchangeable, indicating its power to create
motive and to diminish *individuality*, a source of
social instability. More specifically, the chivalric
code Troilus follows represents the outer, though
unstable, *social* feudal structure important in
maintaining order. He becomes, in short, to
Criseide, a vassal serving his lord:(5)
Here may men seen that mercy passeth right:
Th'experience of that is felt in me,
That am unworthy to so sweete a wight.
But herte myn, of youre benignitee,
So thinketh, though that I unworthy be,
Yit moot I neede amenden in som wise
Right thurgh the vertu of youre heigh servise. (p. 856, l. 1282-1288)
Love and the chivalric code, then, are virtuous
precisely because of the social order they create;
and it is inevitable that the sentiments expressed
become religious in tone as well. Antigone sings
(from Guillaume de Machaut's *Paradis d'Amour*):
As he that is the welle of worthinesse,
Of trouthe ground, mirour of goodliheed,
Of wit Appollo, stoon of sikernesse,
Of vertu roote, of lust findere and heed,
Thurgh which is alle sorwe fro me deed--
Ywis, I love him best, so dooth he me:
Now good thrift have he, wher so that he be! (p. 779, l. 841-847)
Antigone's suggestion that love is the means to
universal order is made into a direct philosophical
/ religious statement by Troilus when he succinctly
cries: "Benigne Love, thou holy bond of things."
(p. 855, l. 1261) This is later expanded in his
hymn "Love that of earth and see hath
governaunce" (p. 872, l. 1744) based on
Boethius' *Consolation of Philosophy*.(6)
Boethius, though, was an influential scholar of
medieval music theory as well; and the connection
between love and music is a vital one. That music
has as its ruler love is clear--love becomes the
source of harmony and music its spokesman. In
his *De institututione musica*, Boethius,
furthermore, emphasizes music's didactic
function: "...music is related not only to
speculation but to morality as well."(7) Thus,
music, the "concrete" embodiment of love, has the
power to influence a character's values and his
consequent actions. Boethius continues: "...the
whole structure of soul and body is united by
musical harmony. For the impulses of the soul
are stirred by emotions corresponding to the state
of the body."(8) Accordingly to Boethius, then,
one who adheres to the philosophical, though
essentially, religious notion of the intrinsic
harmonic structure of the universe will naturally
experience inner and outer, i.e., circumstantial,
harmony. Chaucer has Troilus' song echo this
Boethian notion both by its content and in its
beautiful lyric form, the courtly rhyme royal, which
is used throughout *Troilus alnd Criseide* (and
invented by Chaucer):
Love, that of erthe and see hath governaunce;
Love, that his heestes hath in hevene hye;
Love, that with an hoolsom alliaunce
Halt peples joined as him list hem gie;
Love, that knitteth lawe of compaignye,
And couples dooth in vertu for to dwelle:
Bind this accord that I have told and telle.
That that the world with faith which that is stable
Diverseth so his stoundes concordinge;
That elements that been so discordable
Holden a bond perpetuelly duringe;
That Phebus moot his rosy day forth bringe,
And that the moone hath lordshipe over the nightes--
Al this dooth Love, ay heried be his mightes. (p. 872, l. 1744-1750)
Geoffrey, the narrator, is not satisfied unless he,
too, can praise love and the harmony arising from
it:
That Love is he that alle thing may binde,
For may no man fordoon the lawe of Kinde. (p. 718, l. 237-238)
Again, in the Prologue setting the tone for Book III
in which Troilus' and Criseide's love is
consummated:
Ye holden regne and house in unitee; (p. 812, l. 28)
is followed in the next stanza with:
Ye folk a lawe han set in universe, (p. 812, l. 36)
*Troilus and Criseide*, therefore, seems to uphold
the orthodox Boethian world view of an intricate
universe characterized by harmony and all that is
natural.(9) Love becomes the overseer of this
grand machine and music (harmony) its concrete
counterpart. But Chaucer is not so easily labeled.
The question which needs to be asked is whether
the great Chain of Being is inherent in the Troilus
and Criseide story itself or whether it is merely
superimposed on it. So far, the answer,
apparently, resides in the former case--although,
finally, there is only one "Boethian" trait in Troilus'
character which remains consistent with his
actions and his final destiny: and that is Troilus as
fatalist.(10) In his soliloquy exploring, in detail,
the question of free will vs. determinism, for
example, Troilus comes to the conclusion that he
cannot be responsible for Providence, and this is
his "consolation."
That is small consolation, indeed, however, when
nowhere else do Troilus, Pandarus, and Criseide
indicate in their destinies (or actions) a direct
correspondence with the imposed Boethian
structure. Troilus' faith in love does *not* result in
external harmony. On the contrary, he ends up a
cuckold through this very fatalism inherent in his
character. Criseide breaks her vow, failing to
return to Troy, which quite explicitly overthrows
the theory that the Chain of Being framework here
directly relates to character motivation or that this
motivation is secondary to the philosophical
structure in the story. If anything, the real
organizing principle of *Troilus and Criseide* *is*
character and character motivation. Criseide's
vow to return to Troy is inexplicable in terms of the
Boethian frame. But if one views her faiture to
leave Greece as the outcome of one who
consistently says, "I am my owene woman," then
her practical decision to choose Diomede is
understandable. In fact, Criseide is the
embodiment of one who lives, for the most part,
by free will and who, finally, succeeds in
maintaining her long-sought-for security. She
may not have the honor Troilus' personality is
endowed with, but honor, after all, is not very
practical in the long run.
In this light, then, Pandarus becomes the chief
spokesman: Pandarus' practical, rather comical
personality is consistent with the worldliness
which acts as *Troilus and Criseide*'s--the
story--controlling idea. Therefore, in terms of the
story, love is not the "holy bond" which holds the
universal fabric together--instead, it is a
character's action propelled by the desire for
selfish amusement (Pandarus) or personal
survival (Criseide). As Pandarus roams in
lovesickness during the month of May, for
instance, the romance tradition is imposing itself rather awkwardly on a much more self-controlled personality. When he tells the downcast Troilus who responds with grief to the war-time exchange--
Forthy task herte and think right as a knight:
Thurgh love is broken alday every lawe.
Kith now somwhat thy corage and thy might;
Have mercy on thyself for any awe;
Lat nat this wrecched wo thyn herte gnawe,
But manly set the world on size and sevene,
And if thou die a martyr, go to hevene. (p. 897, l. 617-623)
--his character and personal philosophy undoubtedly exist in perfect accord. Pandarus' influence is, furthermore, keenly felt: Criseide finally succumbs to her uncle's wish to act kindly to Troilus; and even Troilus willingly plays an active role in carrying out Pandarus' plans--riding by Criseide's castle at an opportune time, feigning illness and even jealousy to gain his beloved's attention are clearly all acts of sheer practical scheming.
Thus, while the songs of Troilus and Antigone function as an external frame, Chaucer develops an obscure yet more coherent internal form which functions as the "artistic" parallel to the characters' various motivations and their final destinies. This is manifested in Chaucer's use of beast imagery, especially as it relates to the Progne (swallow) and Philomela (nightingale) rape myth. It is no coincidence, for example, that Pandarus is awakened by the swallow's "sorweful lay" only to immediately set out for Criseide's house in order to arouse his niece's interest in Troilus. Also, after the successful visit, Criseide falls asleep to the chirping of "a nightingale upon a cedre greene" (p. 781, l. 918) and dreams of a white eagle who:
out hir herte he rente, and that anoon,
And dide his herte into hir brest to goon-- (p. 782, l. 928-929)
These images become more ominous as the tragedy draws near. Geoffrey, the narrator, likens the beloved pair's consummation in Book III to a lark and a sparrowhawk, asking the question:
What mighte or may the sely larke saye
Whan that the sperhawk hath him in his foot? (p. 853, l. 1191-1192)
It is quite fitting, then, that immediately after the lovers fulfill their desires, the narrator extends the nightingale-Criseide image even further:
And as the newe abaised nightingale,
That stinteth first whan she gininneth singe,
Whan that she heereth any hierde tale,
Or in the hegges any wight stiringe,
And after siker dooth hir vois out ringe,
Right so Criseide, whan she hir drede stente,
Opened hir herte and tolde him hir entente. (p. 854, l. 1233-1239)
Troilus himself dreams that an owl called Escaphilo haunts him with its shrieks, a bird of ill-omen, as he awaits Criseide's return from Greece. And finally, Troilus dreams of a boar:
And by this boor, faste in hir armes folde,
Lay kissing ay his lady bright Criseide-- (p. 972, l. 1240-1241)
This boar, as Cassandra warns Troilus, is no other than Diomede, Criseide's new suitor.
Artistically, then, the dreams, portent of the unfortunate events of the story, are much more successful than the Chain of Being frame. The memorable images of the nightingale as Criseide, Troilus as a devouring eagle, and the horned boar as Diomede are powerful because of their immediacy, accurately conveying otherwise complex character traits; and, more importantly, they are consistent with the fatal destinies awaiting both Criseide and Troilus.
Thus, *Troilus and Criseide* is, paradoxically, both a thirteenth-century and a fourteenth-century work. The Boethian philosopohy contained in the various songs and in the final thoughts of the narrator are clearly superimposed on the story. Yet, the distinction has to be made, this frame quite successfully sets the overall tone of the romance-epic. In short, it serves to create a distance between the story's earthly vanities and the ever-pervading calm of the universe "out there." Geoffrey, for example, writes of Troilus' final experience:
And whan that he was slain in this manere,
His lighte gost ful blisfully is went
Up to the holwenesse of the eighte spere,
In convers leting everich element;
And ther he sawgh, with full avisement,
The erratik sterres herkning armonye,
With sounes ful of hevenissh melodye.
And down from thennes faste he gan avise
This litel spot of erthe, that with the see
Embraced is, and fully gan despise
This wrecched world, and heeld al vanitee
To respect of the plein felicitee
That is in hevene above; and at the laste,
Ther he was slain his looking down he caste, (pp. 996-997, l. 1807-1820)
Thus, the Boethian structure does not serve as an undesirable paradox, contradicting the Troilus Criseide story. Rather, it serves to sharply define it, by firmly placing it in the worldly setting. It is this strong worldly sense that makes *Troilus* a product of the fourteenth century also--characters, their motivations, and worldly actions at large are minutely explored through the recurring beast image and dream sequence.
Chaucer, then, is the late medieval spokesman who places divine philosophy and worldly human experience side by side--where, as Donald Grout relates to the period as a whole, each is artistically "restricted to and authoritative in its own sphere." (11)
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