So apparently I have absolutely no idea how to format these posts. For some reason it worked fine with my other posts, but now it is single spacing when it should be double, and tabbing when it should be entering. If anyone has any suggestions on how to fix it please let me know!!!!
Thanks!
Sarah
Calabrese, Michael A. Chaucer’s Ovidian Art of Love. Gainesville : University Press of Florida, 1994.
The book, Chaucer’s Ovidian Art of Love by Michael A. Calabrese, provides insight into how Chaucer uses Ovidian concepts in many of his works including the Troilus and Criseyde. Calabrese writes this book with the purpose of informing people interested in medieval literature of the great influence Ovid’s works had over Chaucer’s love poetry. This review will focus on the introduction and the second chapter titled, “Love, Change, and Ovidian ‘Game’ in the Troilus: Book I and II” to show how Calabrese connects Ovid’s writings and themes to the Troilus and Criseyde. Calabrese starts his book by immediately claiming that, “No other classical author exerts so great an influence on medieval literature” as Ovid (1). In Chaucer’s medieval understanding, Ovid provides “the copious glosses, categorizations, moralizations, and allegorizations that introduce or literally surround the words of any text by an auctor” (3). However, Chaucer does not just use the original texts of Ovid, but commentary on his works, such as those made by Boccaccio or Jean de Meun. By studying Ovid and his commentators, Calabrese asserts that Chaucer creates his own definition of the ‘art of love’. In the second chapter of this book, Calabrese attempts to show how Chaucer makes both Pandarus and Criseyde, “act with the ‘wisdom’ of an Ovidian perspective” (6). He argues that one must study Chaucer’s interpretation of the original source, Boccaccio’s Filostrato, to understand to what extent Chaucer uses Ovid’s ‘perspective’ in the Troilus and Criseyde. He states that Chaucer intensifies the Boccaccian work by bring in Ovidian rhetoric. By doing so, “Chaucer brings to the fore a conflict that in Boccaccio’s poem is only embryonic and not specifically Ovidian: the struggle between protean rhetorical strategy and the grievous world of flux and mutability, in Chaucer’s terms between ‘game’ and ‘ernst’” (35). Interestingly Calabrese points out that Troilus, unlike Criseyde and Pandarus, does not want to play the Ovidian game, and suffers for it. Troilus “pledges to maintain ‘trouthe’” which in itself goes against all of Ovid’s teaching. Thus, Calabrese explains that Pandarus must “adopt the voice of the Ovidian love counselor” (37). Pandarus in this role guides Troilus through the “game of love” by teaching him Ovidian lessons such as rhetoric, and manor. Calabrese suggests that by adding an Ovidian context Chaucer takes out all intellect, power, or control that Boccaccio originally gave his Troilo. Chaucer, according to Calabrese, describes Pandarus as having “vast Ovidian wisdom” and as “the author of the ‘game,’ and the drama of the poem hinges on his imagined vision of love and truth” (39). The fact that Pandarus from the beginning of the text sees the whole love affair as a game shows Chaucer’s Ovidian interjections into Boccaccio’s text, since Pandaro only functions as a “useful go-between” for the two lovers (40). Calabrese also connects Criseyde’s language with that of Ovid’s Helen. He suggests that Criseyde’s “echoes of Helen…portray her…as crafty and able to adjust to circumstances without ever losing verbal control or dropping her rhetorical guard” (48). In this way, Chaucer identifies Criseyde as an Ovidian character who has the ability to compromise and attack change, with more change. The tragedy only occurs, according to Calabrese, when the game is mistaken for truth. Hence, Troilus is the only character who feels betrayed and hurt at the end of the story. The heartbreak takes place when the lovers forget that “all things change and that a successful Ovidian lover has to change too” (49). Calabrese provides enough support and strong analysis to back his claim that Chaucer uses Ovidian ideas and themes in his Troilus and Criseyde. His argument provides insight into why the situations that occur do not affect Pandarus and Criseyde in the same way as they do Troilus. Since Troilus does not see his relationship with Criseyde as a game, he cannot move on once she abandons him. Calabrese reinforces his already strong argument, when he shows the difference between Chaucer’s version of the Troilus and Criseyde and the Filostrato by Boccaccio. The examples in which Chaucer blatantly changed Boccaccio’s original characterizations, shows the intentional insertion of Ovidian themes Michael Calabrese’s analysis sparks questions on not just how Chaucer puts Ovidian themes into the Troilus, but for what reason. Calabrese should have answered more fully, why Chaucer transformed Boccaccio’s text into one in which the characters play a “game” of love. Calabrese does say that Chaucer writes his own ideas about love in the text, but he never actually says what those ideas are, how Chaucer develops these ideas. He also does not tell the reader what he should take away from this understanding of Chaucer’s allusions to Ovid throughout his work, other than just accepting that they are there. Therefore, Calabrese provides a very well written and supported argument stating that Chaucer knows the texts of Ovid and uses them frequently in his works; however, he does not answer the question, why?
Martin, Thomas. “Time and Eternity in Troilus and Criseyde”. Renascence: Essays on Values in Literature. 51:3 (1999), pp. 167-79.
Thomas Martin writes, “Time and Eternity in Troilus and Criseyde” for Renascence: Essays on Values in Literature, to analyze the unity of disunity of the epilogue and the rest of the text of the Troilus and Criseyde. He stresses that most scholars believe that Chaucer does not achieve artistic unity in the text, some even suggesting that the epilogue did not originally belong to this text. However, Martin argues that “the pronounced ‘break’ of the Troilus as expressly [models] on a parallel ‘break’ of shift in the Consolatio. … Chaucer’s work in this sense stands as a structural counterpart to Boethius’, fashioned on the opposition of time and eternity, the mundane and divine perspectives” (1). Martin begins by reviewing the problem that many scholars find with the end of Chaucer’s text. He states many people believe that the transition between Troilus’ suffering and death does not connect to the part of the epilogue where he goes to heaven and looks down at the world. Martin explains that through out the entire text Chaucer describes Troilus in pagan terms, but at the end uses Christian language. He even suggests that, “An enormous disproportion also separates the two: some eight thousand lines of the earthly narrative are swallowed up by less than a hundred lines of an other-worldly vision” (1). This argument according to Martin makes Chaucer’s work seem disunited. However, he suggests that by looking at the Consolatio by Boethius, one can see Chaucer’s motives behind this façade of disunity. Martin claims that, “Chaucer’s poem is ‘whole’ in its very disjuncture between an earthly narrative and visionary epilogue” (2). In Book V of the Consolatio, Boethius answers his own questions concerning the distinction between time and eternity. He concludes that time applies to earthly matters and remains shortsighted while eternity pertains to a heavenly perspective that transcends time. According to Martin, Chaucer adopts this same distinction created by Boethius and copies it in the, “thematic and the narrative structure of the Troilus” (2). He argues that at the beginning of the text, Troilus strays from the concept of otherworldly joy, when he enters the temple and finds an earthly substitute in Criseyde. Troilus does not realize the temporary nature of love, which only leads to heartache. At this point according to Martin, Troilus leaves the higher status of the eternal and goes down to the level of time and temporality. Martin asserts that the description of Troilus’ love for Criseyde seems extremely similar that of his death and in both of the situations Troilus experiences a new life. Martin proposes that Troilus tries to, “find heaven in the earthly” concerning his relationship with Criseyde (3). Thus, his attempt fails, since earthly things will always remain temporary. At the end of the story, Troilus finds himself in despair and lives only in the past since the present cannot give him any joy. According to Martin, when Troilus’ dies his life does not end because eternity begins. Martin then asserts that Boethius’ Consolatio must have, “captured Chaucer’s imagination” (5). He points out that Chaucer wrote the Troilus and Criseyde and his translation of the Consolatio within the same five years, which explains why the texts parallel each other. Martin states that, “Chaucer’s ‘litel tragedy’ unfolds as an earthly attempt to possess an earthly substitute for the eternal good” (7). He states that only when Troilus looks from heaven does the tragedy of his life on earth become a comedy. Thus, tragedy is a human function and comedy is a divine function. Martin concludes by reasserting that, “it is this vision of heaven that brings together both the eternal and the highest good” (8). He claims that the Troilus and Criseyde completes Boethian principles and provides an example for Boethius’ concept of time and eternity. Finally, Martin states that, “everything in the story prepares us for the ending. Thus we see the epilogue not as an afterthought, but as the consummation, the consolation, of all that has gone on before” (8). This analysis of the intertextual link between Boethius’ Consolatio and the Troilus and Criseyde gives insight into an aspect of Chaucer’s writing that does not come across to the reader at first glance. Martin provides his readers with the accepted argument that the text and the epilogue of the Troilus and Criseyde remain disunity. However, he counters it with the more convincing argument that Chaucer intentionally parallels the structure of his text to Boethius’ famous book, the Consolatio. Martin provides the interesting analysis that the text of Troilus and Criseyde does have Christian undertones, even in a pagan context. He gives sufficient examples to persuade the reader that Troilus’s life fills with despair when he succumbs to earthly desires, and with joy when enters heaven. Martin points out that Chaucer actually translated the Consolatio and so the parallel structure of the two works could not have been a coincident. However, in the same way Chaucer uses themes from both Boccaccio and Dante to write this work. Martin could have strengthened his argument that Chaucer parallels his works on other texts, by giving some examples of how he uses these two influential writers along with Boethius. This analysis of the parallel structures of the Troilus and Criseyde and the Consolatio gives insight into how Chaucer structures all of his works. Martin’s argument shows that Chaucer pulls from texts of other influential writers to enhance his own ideas.
Murray, Molly. “The Value of ‘Eschaunge’: Ransom and Substitution in Troilus and Criseyde”. English Literary History. 69.2 (2002) 335-358.
Molly Murray wrote, “The Value of ‘Eschaunge’: Ransom and Substitution in Troilus and Criseyde,” for the journal English Literary History, to provide an interesting analysis about the Troilus and Criseyde for scholars interested in historical literary studies. She argues that the “complex of ambiguity” in the Troilus and Criseyde comes from “the medieval chivalric practice of Ransom” (335). She briefly addresses the fact that the French held Chaucer for ransom from 1359-1360 and how this helps to explain his depictions of the Trojan War, and the exchanging of Criseyde for Antenor. Murray’s thesis states that, “In its depiction of character, in its narrative structure, and even in its insistently metaphoric language, the poem makes use of the resonance of ransom to suggest that value and meaning are not threatened, but rather generated by separation and exchange” (335-336).
At the beginning of her article, Murray addresses the historical practices of ransom. By using the words of Bartholomew of Salicento
Murray suggests that, “the prisoner could become…merely a mark of debt, his body ‘a pledge for the price of his ransom” (336). She argues that in the fourteenth and fifteen centuries, “a person could be one term in a stable relationship of equivalence, and that substitutions could in fact be made with ease” (337). She asserts that Chaucer’s understanding of ransom comes from the chivalric culture, which dictated how both the English and the French dealt with war. Both countries observed the same rules dealing with ransom and so in many cases prisoners lived in almost the same fashion, as they would have at home. If the prisoner kept a good relationship with the captor then they often could substitute themselves for another hostage of equal status until they could gather the ransom payment. The captor also had the option of leaving the ransom to someone in a will, selling it for shares, or even dividing it up among other people. This meant that the issue of ransom payment could last for a very long time, and involve many people.
Murray points out that Book IV deals mostly with ransoms of high-ranking Trojan soldiers captured by the Greeks. Chaucer provides and example of the practice of trading people for ransom payment with the substitution of Antenor for Criseyde. Even though Criseyde is a woman, this did not stray far from the norm of medieval ransom cases. Thus, Murray suggests that when Hector says that she “
nis no prisoner,” he holds a minority view. The poem suggests that Criseyde’s substitution represents the, “complex and equivocal process of exchange itself” (342).
Once in Greece, Criseyde’s relationship with Diomedes quickly goes from the relationship of captive and captor to one of courtly love, much like the relationship she once had with Troilus. Diomedes not only takes the place of Troilus but also Pandarus, with his ability to talk to her intimately. Thus, Diomedes serves as an emotional substitution. Criseyde’s relationship with Troilus shows her dedication to Troy however; her relationship with Diomedes shows an acceptance of her status in Greece. Moreover, her life in Greece resembles her life in Troy, which parallels French and English medieval ransom cases.
According to Murray, Troilus also makes substitutions, especially in finding something else other than Criseyde to direct his love and anger. Earlier during the love scene, Troilus uses his imagination as a substitution for real life events. Murray comments that,”Troilus implies that Criseyde exists insofar as she is a part of him” (347). In the same way, Criseyde replaces her admiration of Hector for Troilus, and accepts him only because, “she is impressed… [since] he is praised by those whom she would like to praise her” (378).
Murray goes on the explain Pandarus’ situation as taking the place of the two lovers in turn. For example, “when attempting to win Criseyde for Troilus, he forces upon her an imaginative substitution, lover for uncle” (349). By taking the place of the lovers, Pandarus lives vicariously through Troilus and Criseyde’s affair.
Murray concludes by stating that the tragedy only occurs when “ransom-like substitution no longer compensates loss” (353). She suggests that the narrator at the end of the story tries to prolong the ransom theme but to no avail. According to Murray, the “final allusion to Christ’s ransom of mankind reaffirms the power of even the most costly “eschaunge” to produce new life and new meaning” (354).
Murray gives numerous examples to support her claim that the Chaucer’s poem “makes use of the resonance of ransom” to give meaning to the text (335). She touches on almost all of the relationships presented by Chaucer in the Troilus and Criseyde, giving examples on how the idea of substitution or ransom occurs in terms of both love and war. She uses both obvious situations, like the Trojan Parliament sending Criseyde to
Greece, and not so obvious ones, like Troilus’ substitution of real life events for imaginary ones. The idea of substitution in terms of love provides an interesting argument, especially in the way that Murray describes Criseyde’s substitution of Troilus for Diomedes. Her analysis shows how fickle Criseyde’s love for Troilus really was, since she can easily trade him for another man.
At the beginning of the article, Murray mentions that the French once held Chaucer for ransom, but does not give any information concerning that event in Chaucer’s life. Murray could have strengthened her argument by looking at Chaucer’s actual ransom case, not just generic medieval situations. This could help convince the reader, that Chaucer actively used his own experiences when describing the Trojan War.
However, even without delving into Chaucer’s history, Murray provides a very interesting and thought provoking article that suggests that Chaucer applies the ideas of ransom and substitution in the Troilus and Criseyde.
Martin, Carl Grey. “Bitraised Thorugh False Folk’: Criseyde, the Seige, and the Threat of Treason”. The Chaucer Review 37.3 (2003) 219-233.
Carl Grey Martin begins his article, “’Bitraised Thorugh False Folk’: Criseyde, the Siege, and the Threat of Treason,” for The Chaucer Review by reminding the reader that in Book II, Pandarus finds Criseyde reading about the siege of Thebes. He explains that Chaucer uses this allusion to foreshadow the fall of Troy and to suggest that Criseyde has a strong interest in current events. Martin provides the thesis that, “…a reference to another siege can be assigned to the deliberate agency of Criseyde herself, her choice of the topical volume reflecting her desire to know what is currently happening around her” (1).
The author points out that Criseyde understands that she lives in a city under siege and feels involved in it, even though she does not take part in any military actions. He explains that, “siege warfare was unique in involving and testing populaces largely unconnected with military practices.…Siege was rarely successful and usually devolved into a bitter, drawn-out campaign to wear down those inside….making the real threats disease, hunger, and demoralization—not melees or even siegecraft” (1). In this way, siege affects the entire populous of the area under attack, especially since after a victory the attackers could legally terrorize and occupy the besieged site.
Martin uses the example of Calchas’s alliance with the Greeks to show that acts of an individual can help determine victory or defeat. When Calchas betrays Troy, he also leaves his daughter Criseyde in a dangerous position. Therefore, she must secure protection from Hector. Martin claims that Hector’s protection over her not only gives Criseyde security but also a strong obligation to him and in turn to
Troy. Criseyde realizes “the capacity of the individual” since the actions of one person can determine so much (2). Thus, after reading about the fall of Thebes, Criseyde feels anxious about the future of her own city. Martin suggests that this gives Pandarus the ability to manipulate Criseyde into having a love affair with Troilus, a war hero second only to Hector. Pandarus successfully convinces her that Troilus has the capacity to love, while still having a strong dedication to Troy. The sight of the battle weary Troilus on horseback only strengthens Criseyde’s belief.
Martin proposes that Criseyde understands that treason by an individual can destroy a city. Therefore, she feels the need for a sense of political stability and loyalty; however, this can only come from masculine militarism. According to Martin, Criseyde’s relationship with Troilus gives her an “agent, like Hector in whom she can locate her commitment to the city” (4).
Martin argues that Criseyde sees the walls of Troy as symbolizing strength and integrity, however as Pandarus points out, the walls do not protect indefinitely. Interestingly the threats of treason only bother Criseyde while Pandarus and Troilus seem unconcerned. Martin explains that, “This crucial difference warns that, for all their best intentions, they ultimately do not appreciate the sociopolitical fears and needs that motivate her” (6). Troilus does not fight for the purposes of protecting Troy but to impress Criseyde, which counters her belief that he can both love and protect his state. Martin gives the example in Book IV where Troilus is willing to leave Troy and elope with Criseyde so that could stay together. Troilus’s lack of strength also shows through when the Trojan Parliament trades Criseyde to the Greeks, ultimately betraying her Trojan citizenship. Even after the Trojan Parliament betrays her, Criseyde still does an act of self-sacrifice, convincing Troilus that she must go the Greece on her own so that he can protect
Troy. Criseyde sees Troilus willingness to abandon Troy, her banishment, and the many Trojan traitors, as the undoing of her “concept of allegiance with which she could realize her identification with the Trojans” and so never goes back to Troy (8). Martin suggests that at this point, Diomedes can compare Trojans and Greeks and convince Criseyde that they both have positive attributes. This distances her from her Trojan roots and allows her to abandon her need for a sense of loyalty. Martin concludes by stating that, “After the endless and wearying exchanges, abandoned by Calchas, restored by Hector, reclaimed by Calchas, expelled by the parliament; after all the ‘broken commitments and dark betrayals’; and in light of the designing masculine forces newly arrayed against her, making return almost impossible, it is just as well that she stay put until she is forced to move again” (9).
The article interestingly analyzes how the siege itself connects to Criseyde’s agency. The fact that Martin traces this from Book II and her reading of the fall of Thebes, gives this argument more validity. The portion of the article where Martin explains the art of siege warfare provides the reader with the necessary context in which to understand his argument concerning Criseyde. In this way, Martin sufficiently proves that Criseyde would historically have a deep concern with the military occurrence of her home, because they would ultimately affect her. Martin also provides a very strong argument that Criseyde’s admiration for Troilus comes from his supposed commitment to her city. Martin convincingly shows Criseyde as seeing Troilus as a continuation of her hero, Hector, and so falls in love with the idea of Troilus, not Troilus himself.
However, Martin falls short in her analysis of the walls of Troy. She does not adequately explain how they symbolize protection, since Criseyde understands that traitors do live in Troy and can ultimately cause Trojan defeat. The walls do stand as a dividing line between the Trojans and the Greeks, but Criseyde can see through the actions of her own father, that they ultimately do not provide protection for the Trojan people or the military forces.
By giving the reader sufficient context to comprehend her argument, Martin proves that historically a siege could adictate a woman’s agency. Therefore, Martin gives a strong argument that Criseyde’s understanding of the siege itself reflects in her love for Troilus.
