Troilus and Cressida

Shakespeare's brutal and brilliant deconstruction of the Iliad is one of the most enjoyable surprises I've had in reading. Achilles is a brute and a fraud. Ajax is a chivalrous dunce. Agamemnon is a cipher. Menelaus is just a cuckold. Ulysses and Nestor are puppeteers whose main military virtue is their ability to manipulate the two strongmen. Thersites isn't a troublemaker but the most bitter of Shakespeare's jesters, tolerated by the powerful Grecians instead of beaten. Hector on the other hand is even nobler than he was in the Iliad and is murdered in the most cowardly way imaginable.

Nothing is more surprising that the characters of the star crossed lovers, whose story ends with the woman changing her heart with her fortune and her show more enraged former lover consigning her to blazes and becoming a cruel killing machine. The play thus ends not with the tragic deaths of the lovers but with Cressida's pandering uncle complaining about the physical ailments his career has caused him.

Did I say that Shakespeare was deconstructing Homer? On second thought, Shakespeare was deconstructing Shakespeare. show less

Considering it's not one of his more well-known plays, Troilus and Cressida was a surprisingly agreeable dose of Shakespeare. The story of Troilus and Cressida was a pre-existing medieval invention that had been inserted into the existing mythology surrounding The Iliad, and Shakespeare provides his own spin on it.

It is essentially a subplot to the part of the Trojan War covered in The Iliad; in the backdrop, Achilles mooches stubbornly in his tent and eventually meets Hector on the field, while in our foreground the Trojan prince Troilus, a lesser son of Priam, woos a Trojan lady named Cressida. However, Cressida's father defects to the Greeks and, as a reward, the Greek king Agamemnon negotiates Cressida being turned over to the Greek show more camp in a trade of prisoners. In a classic, contrived Shakespearean scene, Troilus witnesses Cressida being unfaithful to her love-oath to him in the tent of the Greek warrior Diomedes.

It's enough for us to sink our teeth into, and yet also not enough. Shakespeare taps into the sexual jealousy that has always been one of the potent drivers of The Iliad – the war famously starts, of course, with Helen cuckolding Menelaus by fleeing with Paris, and the rift between Achilles and Agamemnon is caused by the latter claiming the slave girl Briseis – and his more classical scenes, such as the one where Achilles meets Hector, are interesting as we get to see what the Bard might have done with such material. Shakespeare has his own take on things – Achilles effectively ambushes Hector dishonourably, rather than defeating him in single combat – and he also touches, with a surprising lack of ambiguity, on the idea that Patroclus was the bed-mate of Achilles.

However, the story of Troilus and Cressida themselves is interesting rather than engrossing; we don't spend enough time with them to be invested in the way that we were with, for example, Romeo and Juliet. The horse-trading around Cressida gets a bit convoluted, and a potentially spicy theme of hypocrisy (Troilus the Trojan prince is expected to turn over Cressida, a Trojan noblewoman, yet the war continues only because Paris the Trojan prince refuses to turn over Helen, a Greek noblewoman) is left under-developed, even though Shakespeare seems to recognise it in part ("Men prize the thing ungained more than it is" (pg. 17)).

What we are left with is an enjoyable if inconsistent mix of typical Shakespearean content, part bawdy comedy, part historical epic and part thematic tragedy, without really committing to or satisfying any of those angles. In truth, I think I enjoyed it more because it was an opportunity to revisit the old Greek legends, and it appears Shakespeare enjoyed playing in this Trojan sandbox too. show less

One of the strengths of Troilus and Cressida is that, because everyone knows about the Trojan War and the main players in it, the events of this play really do feel like a little snapshot from a much larger history. While the tragedy of our titular couple is not as perfectly crafted as those of Shakespeare's "great" tragedies, it gains a special wrenching quality from being so random and incidental. Troilus and Cressida are torn apart, not just because of the events of the play, but because the war churns on, dragging everyone with it. This story focuses on the petty quibbles of soldiers, the beaten, mocking servant, the lecherous uncle, the distrustful husband, the warrior fighting dirty-- this Trojan War is grimier than you've ever show more seen it, and any hero in it is killed or corrupted before the end. Diseases, indeed. show less

“She is a pearl, whose price hath launch'd above a thousand ships.”

The story of the Trojan War and the beautiful Helen is well-known, but this Shakespearean tragedy about it is not. Troilus and Cressida is the story of two young Trojans caught in the midst of a nation at war. Despite being surrounded by the problems of others they find themselves falling in love. Troilus is the brother of the infamous warrior Hector and the lovesick Paris who ran away with the married Helen, incurring the wrath of the Greeks.

The entire play is filled with passionate declarations of both love and war. The Greeks, like King Agamemnon and the hotheaded Ajax, are itching for a fight. Ajax doesn’t realize until too late that he is only a pawn in the show more hands of the generals. The Trojans on the other hand aren’t sure how they want to respond. Paris wants to defend Helen’s honor, but his older brother Hector has to decide if she is worth the fall of an entire nation. From his opening scene he has an impossible task. He knows the right thing to do in theory, but the obligations of honor and family loyalty prevent him from doing it.
The play is full to the brim with remarkable supporting characters. From the tragic Cassandra, whose prophetic wails go unheeded to Pandarus, Cressida’s uncle the meddling matchmaker.

I was surprised to find one of the most poignant wooing scenes I’ve ever come across in a play. Usually the man takes the lead in these scenes, but in this one a guarded Cressida finally reveals how much she cares for Troilus. She been attempting to play hard to get, but she can’t hide her feelings any more. She gushes then quickly chides herself, finally begging him to kiss her so she’ll stop talking.

“And yet, good faith, I wish'd myself a man;
Or that we women had men's privilege
Of speaking first. Sweet, bid me hold my tongue;
For, in this rapture, I shall surely speak
The thing I shall repent. See, see ! your silence,
Cunning in dumbness, from my weakness draws
My very soul of counsel: Stop my mouth.”

This is a tricky play though because there are so many different plots. There’s the romance between Troilus and Cressida and another one between Paris and Helen. There’s the central story of war between nations. In the midst of all of this the title characters often feel secondary, which can make it hard to become invested in their relationship.

The title may be Troilus and Cressida, but that’s really a misnomer. While their romance is sweet, it’s truly the story of the Trojan War and the dicey decisions that warriors must face in battle. What is a single life worth? For Achilles, his love for one man is enough to make him fight or to stay his hand. For the love of his brothers Hector is willing to pick up his sword. The tragedy of war is that it’s a cyclical game; one death always leads to the desire for vengeance from the other side. Grief and bloodshed fuel only more of the same and this play is a poignant reminder of that.

BOTTOM LINE: A powerful story of the destructive force of war intertwined with a doomed love story. Bard enthusiasts must read it. show less

A landmark for me. In this “Year of Reading All the Shakespeare,” this play, the twenty-first in the list, is the first one that I'd never read before and really enjoyed. To me, Titus Andronicus was a pointless gorefest, Two Gentlemen of Verona was just dumb, and King Edward III was simply incoherent, but this – well, it's not great – not a Hamlet or Macbeth or Richard II – but it's very good.

While I'm quite familiar with the Iliad, the story of Troilus and Cressida was new to me. Aside from knowing that they were famous “sundered lovers,” I came to their story pretty much cold. So now I'm curious about Chaucer's take on their tale.

Shakespeare keeps to tradition with some characters – Hector is noble, Ulysses is show more crafty, Nestor is … verbose – but several “regulars” lose the sheen they generally have and are merely (if fairly plausibly) thugs (or, in Helen's case, a “floozy”). Achilles in particular, comes off dreadfully. Thersites, though, who I didn't even remember from the Iliad, is transformed from “nonentity” in Homer to a vividly realized dynamo of evil in Shakespeare's play. His equal opportunity hatred for everyone and everything – Greek or Trojan, male or female – is almost overwhelming in its intensity. Pandarus, another character from the Iliad I'd completely forgotten about, is also memorable in Shakespeare's telling, though in his case it is his sheer creepiness that makes him stand out. Marjorie Garber, in her brilliant Shakespeare After All, points out Pandarus's similarities to Juliet's nurse (in Romeo and Juliet), but, while the nurse is certainly foolish and shows an unwholesome enthusiasm for her young charge's deflowering, her prurience is nothing next to that of Cressida's uncle. Pandarus's eagerness to put his niece and the Trojan prince in bed together and his salacious comments in regard to their activities there are impressively icky. Cressida, unattractive though she is (except physically, I suppose) is at least interesting. A practical girl, with no illusions about her status as an object to be sold. The frequent comparisons between Helen and Cressida, so similar in appearance that the only difference is said to be that Cressida's hair is a shade darker, highlight the hypocrisies of their varying treatments. As Troilus says in the meeting over whether to return Helen and thus end the war...

”Were it not glory that we more affected
Than the performance of our heaving spleens,
I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood
Spent more in her defense. But, worthy Hector,
She is a theme of honor and renown,
A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds,
Whose present courage may beat down our foes,
And fame in time to come canonize us”

Cressida, however, is traded to the Greeks in return for a captured Trojan leader without a second thought (we are spared the scene where Paris prances around Priam's palace teasing Troilus with a rousing rendition of “Mom and Dad and everyone love me best!). Poor Troilus. He gets marquee status, but his character is distinctly lacking in pizazz. The play's “Ken doll,” he gets the girl, only to immediately lose her to a more powerful, more interesting man. Oh well. Their long term prospects weren't promising anyway.

Along with reading the Folger Shakespeare Library edition, which has reasonable size print and fine notes, I listened to the Arkangel recording of this play, which is very well done. Recommended. show less

This is one of Shakespeare's problem plays, meaning it doesn't fit neatly into the category of tragedy or comedy, but occupies its own hybrid niche. "Black comedy" or "scathing satire" would probably be a fairly apt description for this outing. It's actually a lot of fun to read, especially if you like humor flavored with a heavy dose of cynicism.

The "romantic" leads of the play's title, Troilus and Cressida, are no Romeo and Juliet. Not even by a long shot. Troilus is a superficial lad, concerned only with glory and momentary pleasures, and his love for Cressida lasts only about as long as her maidenhood. Cressida is just as fickle as her lover, swiftly shifting her physical affections to the enemy camp when she gets traded for ransom. show more

This play is very anachronistic. It's not the sort of tale that resides in the ancient dusty battles of Greek times; it's very much a product of Shakespeare's era. This is what makes it such an interesting read for me. It reflects the rapidly changing world of a burgeoning global market, a place where chaos, hypocrisy, and corruption were rife. There are numerous references in the play to venereal disease, especially the notorious pox (syphilis), which was just beginning its lengthy reign in Europe.

I do love it when Shakespeare gets gross, and he obliges his disgusting side with unapologetic alacrity here. "Thou crusty botch of nature", "thou sarsenet flap for a sore eye", and so on.. Shakespeare is a demigod when it comes to heinous insults, and Troilus and Cressida is brimful of humdingers.

I also love Shakespeare plays for the treasure-trove of words, some of which should still be in use instead of being consigned to obscurity.
Two words from this play that caught my fancy:

Oppugnancy - meaning opposition. I like its bouncy character, like a rubber ball on the tongue.

Gloze - a verb meaning to comment, make excuses for, or to use ingratiating language. show less

One of Shakespeare's most notoriously difficult and cynical plays, labelled a "Problem Comedy", Troilus and Cressida has perplexed critics and theatre directors, and after Shakespeare's lifetime it was not performed again until 1907. In many ways the play's difficulty is a surprise; the story of Troilus and Cressida was a popular theme, drawn from Homer's Iliad and Chaucer's own Troilus and Criseyde, as was its classical setting, the Greek siege of Troy, led by Agamemnon, Achilles, Ajax, Diomedes and Ulysses. Within the walls of Troy, Prince Troilus falls madly in love with Cressida, daughter of the deserter Calchas. His love is intense and frenetic--"I am giddy, expectation whirls round me," but turns to bitter disillusion when show more Cressida defects to the Greek camp and flirts with Diomedes. As the war and conflict over the abduction of Helen whirls around the doomed romance, the play delights in its complex syntax and cynical images of waste, decay, corruption and mutability, summed up in Ulysses' comment that, "Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all / To envious and calumniating time." The play's cynical open-ended quality has frustrated many readers, but gives the play a remarkably modern, contemporary sensibility. --Jerry Brotton show less