Chaucer's Works, Volume 2

The Story

The volume opens with a translation of Boethius’s The Consolation of Philosophy, a work of profound existential inquiry. A man, suffering under the weight of sudden misfortune and political exile, sits in a state of deep despair, mourning his lost status and the cruelty of Fortune. To him appears Philosophy, personified as a radiant and commanding woman. She immediately rebukes him for his tears, noting that he has forgotten the true nature of the world. She explains that Fortune is, by definition, fickle and blind; she has not "betrayed" him, for she is merely acting according to her nature. To complain of her changeability is to misunderstand the very rules of the game. Philosophy leads the man through a rigorous intellectual ascent, demonstrating that true happiness—the "sovereign good"—cannot be found in riches, power, or fame, all of which are external, unstable, and ultimately hollow. Instead, she argues that the only path to peace lies in aligning one's soul with the divine intelligence, which views all temporal events not as chaotic accidents, but as part of a singular, unchanging order.

This philosophical inquiry transitions into the tragic narrative of Troilus and Criseyde. In the besieged city of Troy, the young prince Troilus falls deeply in love with the beautiful widow Criseyde. Initially dismissive of love’s power, he is quickly undone by the intensity of his passion. He turns for help to his friend Pandarus, a clever and pragmatic man who serves as the architect of their union. Pandarus orchestrates a series of intricate meetings, eventually maneuvering the two lovers into a secret, blissful consummation. For a brief, golden period, the lovers exist in a private world, shielded by the walls of Troy and the deceptions of their social circles. They believe their happiness is secure, unaware that the external pressures of the Trojan War are already shifting to tear them apart.

The turning point occurs when the Trojan council decides to trade the defector Calkas’s daughter, Criseyde, to the Greeks in exchange for a prisoner of war. Despite Troilus’s frantic and desperate plans to spirit her away, Criseyde is forced to leave the city. Once in the Greek camp, separated from her protector and surrounded by the enemy, her resolve wavers. She meets the Greek warrior Diomede, whose persistence and directness contrast sharply with the agonizing, courtly yearning of Troilus. Overcome by loneliness and the harsh reality of her new position, Criseyde eventually betrays her promise to return to Troy. She grants her love to Diomede, effectively consigning Troilus to a state of permanent, hollow grief.

The end of the story is marked by a profound shift in perspective. Troilus, left in total despair, eventually dies in battle, his spirit ascending to the heavens. From this celestial vantage point, he looks back upon the world and its "blynde lust" with a detached, ironic pity. He realizes that his suffering, while real, was rooted in a profound misunderstanding of the world’s value. He rejects the "vanite" of earthly love and the instability of Fortune, laughing at the tiny, frantic motions of those still trapped on the stage of mortality. The story concludes not with a resolution of the romance, but with a plea for the reader to turn their gaze toward the eternal, leaving behind the shifting shadows of human passion.

The People

• Boethius (the narrator/protagonist): A learned man whose world has been dismantled. He represents the human mind struggling to reconcile personal suffering with the belief in a rational, divine universe. He undergoes a shift from emotional paralysis to intellectual enlightenment.
• Philosophy: The embodiment of divine wisdom. She is calm, severe, and patient, acting as a guide who systematically strips away the protagonist’s delusions about material success and worldly status.
• Troilus: A noble Trojan prince who discovers love and loses his entire sense of self to it. He is defined by his intense emotional capacity and his absolute loyalty, which makes his eventual disillusionment and descent into despair all the more devastating.
• Criseyde: A woman of great intelligence and caution, motivated by a desperate need for security in a world where she is a vulnerable pawn. Her tragedy lies in her pragmatism; she does not intend to be unfaithful, but her fear and loneliness eventually overwhelm her integrity.
• Pandarus: The catalyst of the romance. He is a man of the world, adept at manipulation and social maneuvering. He genuinely loves Troilus and wants his happiness, but his reliance on deception and short-term fixes ultimately contributes to the fragility of the lovers' situation.

In Its Own Voice

Philosophy speaks to the suffering man, reminding him that the pain he feels is a consequence of his dependence on things outside his own control.

Thou wenest that Fortune be chaunged ayein thee; but thou wenest wrong, yif thou that wene.

As the narrative of the lovers begins, the narrator acknowledges the difficulty of translating emotional experience across generations and linguistic shifts.

Ye knowe eek, that in forme of speche is chaunge With-inne a thousand yeer, and wordes tho That hadden prys, now wonder nyce and straunge Us thinketh hem.

As Troilus descends into the depths of his jealousy and the certainty of his loss, he acknowledges the total collapse of his trust.

O trust, O feyth, O depe asëuraunce, Who hath me reft Criseyde, al my plesaunce?

What It's Really About

At its core, this volume is an extended meditation on the tension between the transient nature of earthly life and the quest for lasting, sovereign truth. The inclusion of Boethius’s Consolation provides a rigid intellectual framework that the subsequent narrative of Troilus and Criseyde then tests, complicates, and ultimately validates. The book argues that human beings are fundamentally "miswandringe" creatures; we are born with a natural desire for the good, but we consistently mistake false goods—money, prestige, lust, and the favor of others—for the real thing.

The argument is that these worldly attachments are inherently unstable because they are subject to the caprice of Fortune. The text is deeply skeptical of the idea that humans can control their own happiness through social or romantic success. The tragedy of Troilus and Criseyde serves as the perfect case study for this argument: they attempt to build a sanctuary of love within the volatile theater of a war-torn city. Their failure is not an accident or a stroke of bad luck; it is a structural inevitability. Because they tether their "blisfulnesse" to one another, they make themselves hostages to time, politics, and the inherent frailty of human character.

Furthermore, the work asks a difficult question about the nature of free will and divine foreknowledge. If the universe follows a divine plan, why does it permit the suffering of the innocent or the heartbreak of the faithful? The answer provided is that human reason is too limited to grasp the "simplicitee" of the divine intelligence. We see the world in fragments, like a line of poetry, while the divine view is the entire page. Thus, the argument shifts the burden of peace from the external world to the internal spirit. To "ataste" the stronger medicines of philosophy is to recognize that the only true freedom is the detachment from the "bitydinges" of the world. It is a rigorous, demanding philosophy that refuses to offer easy comfort, insisting instead that the only way to endure the inevitable loss of everything we love is to realize that our attachment to those things was the primary cause of our misery.

Why Read It Today

Reading this volume is an exercise in both intellectual humility and emotional recognition. You will encounter the difficulties of Middle English, which requires patience and a willingness to engage with the footnote apparatus provided by the scholarly edition. The language is not merely a barrier; it is a texture, filled with the "tempestous matere" of the human heart, and once the cadence of the verse settles into your mind, it becomes remarkably fluid.

This is a book for those who feel the crushing weight of modern uncertainty. If you have ever felt that the world is spinning out of control—that the values you hold dear are being eroded by forces beyond your reach—the cold, clear light of this text will feel both bracing and deeply familiar. It does not promise that your life will become easy or that your losses will be reversed. Instead, it offers something more radical: the chance to see your own suffering from a distance. The experience of reading it feels like standing on a high, windy plain after being trapped in a narrow, dark room; the air is thin and the perspective is vast, but you can finally breathe.

What stays with you long after the final page is the image of the lovers' private, fragile world being dismantled by the indifferent grinding of history. You are left with the quiet, devastating realization that we are all, in a sense, living in a besieged city, constructing our small, fleeting happinesses while the walls around us tremble. It is an honest book, one that refuses to shy away from the pain of human betrayal or the harshness of death. Yet, in its final passages, it offers a strange, austere comfort. It suggests that there is a way to live in the world without being destroyed by it, provided we are willing to let go of the things we hold most tightly. It is a profound, challenging companion for anyone attempting to navigate the complexities of a life that is, by its very nature, subject to change.