[In several respects, the story of “Troilus and Cressida” may be
regarded as Chaucer’s noblest poem. Larger in scale than any
other of his individual works — numbering nearly half as many
lines as The Canterbury Tales contain, without reckoning the
two in prose — the conception of the poem is yet so closely and
harmoniously worked out, that all the parts are perfectly
balanced, and from first to last scarcely a single line is
superfluous or misplaced. The finish and beauty of the poem as
a work of art, are not more conspicuous than the knowledge of
human nature displayed in the portraits of the principal
characters. The result is, that the poem is more modern, in form
and in spirit, than almost any other work of its author; the
chaste style and sedulous polish of the stanzas admit of easy
change into the forms of speech now current in England; while
the analytical and subjective character of the work gives it, for
the nineteenth century reader, an interest of the same kind as
that inspired, say, by George Eliot’s wonderful study of
character in “Romola.” Then, above all, “Troilus and Cressida”
is distinguished by a purity and elevation of moral tone, that
may surprise those who judge of Chaucer only by the coarse
traits of his time preserved in The Canterbury Tales, or who
may expect to find here the Troilus, the Cressida, and the
Pandarus of Shakspeare’s play. It is to no trivial gallant, no
woman of coarse mind and easy virtue, no malignantly
subservient and utterly debased procurer, that Chaucer
introduces us. His Troilus is a noble, sensitive, generous, pure-
souled, manly, magnanimous hero, who is only confirmed and
stimulated in all virtue by his love, who lives for his lady, and
dies for her falsehood, in a lofty and chivalrous fashion. His
Cressida is a stately, self-contained, virtuous, tender-hearted
woman, who loves with all the pure strength and trustful
abandonment of a generous and exalted nature, and who is
driven to infidelity perhaps even less by pressure of
circumstances, than by the sheer force of her love, which will go
on loving — loving what it can have, when that which it would
rather have is for the time unattainable. His Pandarus is a
gentleman, though a gentleman with a flaw in him; a man who,
in his courtier-like good-nature, places the claims of
comradeship above those of honour, and plots away the virtue
of his niece, that he may appease the love-sorrow of his friend;
all the time conscious that he is not acting as a gentleman
should, and desirous that others should give him that
justification which he can get but feebly and diffidently in
himself. In fact, the “Troilus and Cressida” of Chaucer is the
“Troilus and Cressida” of Shakespeare transfigured; the
atmosphere, the colour, the spirit, are wholly different; the older
poet presents us in the chief characters to noble natures, the
younger to ignoble natures in all the characters; and the poem
with which we have now to do stands at this day among the
noblest expositions of love’s workings in the human heart and
life. It is divided into five books, containing altogether 8246
lines. The First Book (1092 lines) tells how Calchas, priest of
Apollo, quitting beleaguered Troy, left there his only daughter
Cressida; how Troilus, the youngest brother of Hector and son
of King Priam, fell in love with her at first sight, at a festival in
the temple of Pallas, and sorrowed bitterly for her love; and
how his friend, Cressida’s uncle, Pandarus, comforted him by
the promise of aid in his suit. The Second Book (1757 lines)
relates the subtle manoeuvres of Pandarus to induce Cressida to
return the love of Troilus; which he accomplishes mainly by
touching at once the lady’s admiration for his heroism, and her
pity for his love-sorrow on her account. The Third Book (1827
lines) opens with an account of the first interview between the
lovers; ere it closes, the skilful stratagems of Pandarus have
placed the pair in each other’s arms under his roof, and the
lovers are happy in perfect enjoyment of each other’s love and
trust. In the Fourth Book (1701 lines) the course of true love
ceases to run smooth; Cressida is compelled to quit the city, in
ransom for Antenor, captured in a skirmish; and she sadly
departs to the camp of the Greeks, vowing that she will make
her escape, and return to Troy and Troilus within ten days. The
Fifth Book (1869 lines) sets out by describing the court which
Diomedes, appointed to escort her, pays to Cressida on the way
to the camp; it traces her gradual progress from indifference to
her new suitor, to incontinence with him, and it leaves the
deserted Troilus dead on the field of battle, where he has sought
an eternal refuge from the new grief provoked by clear proof of
his mistress’s infidelity. The polish, elegance, and power of the
style, and the acuteness of insight into character, which mark
the poem, seem to claim for it a date considerably later than that
adopted by those who assign its composition to Chaucer’s
youth: and the literary allusions and proverbial expressions with
which it abounds, give ample evidence that, if Chaucer really
wrote it at an early age, his youth must have been precocious
beyond all actual record. Throughout the poem there are
repeated references to the old authors of Trojan histories who
are named in “The House of Fame”; but Chaucer especially
mentions one Lollius as the author from whom he takes the
groundwork of the poem. Lydgate is responsible for the
assertion that Lollius meant Boccaccio; and though there is no
authority for supposing that the English really meant to
designate the Italian poet under that name, there is abundant
internal proof that the poem was really founded on the
“Filostrato” of Boccaccio. But the tone of Chaucer’s work is
much higher than that of his Italian “auctour;” and while in
some passages the imitation is very close, in all that is
characteristic in “Troilus and Cressida,” Chaucer has fairly
thrust his models out of sight. In the present edition, it has been
possible to give no more than about one-fourth of the poem —
274 out of the 1178 seven-line stanzas that compose it; but
pains have been taken to convey, in the connecting prose
passages, a faithful idea of what is perforce omitted.]