There’s an interesting discussion going on at All About Romance about honor, particularly honorable heroes. I found it particularly inriguing, because honor is something Charles and Mélanie discuss a lot, especially in Secrets of a Lady.
I agree with Laurie of AAR that honorable behavior can be an extremely attractive quality (and make for a lot of dramatic tension). In the AAR discussion, I brought up Francis Crawford of Lymond as a particularly fascinating example because so many people (including those closest to him much of the time) think he’s being dishonorable, while all the while he’s usually acting from very honorable motives. I know a number of readers who gave up on The Game of Kings because they thought Lymond’s behavior was so despicable. My mom, who ended up loving the series, kept saying in the first book “he burned his mother’s castle.” Which of course, he does. But he has good reasons 
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I also love stories about jaded characters who rediscover a sense of honor and idealism. Indiana Jones in Raiders of the Lost Ark, Sheridan Drake in Laura Kinsale’s Seize the Fire, Rick Blaine (whose “hill of beans” speech to Ilsa at the end of Casablanca is pretty much a take on “I could not love thee, dear, so much, Lov’d I not honor more”). Damerel, in Georgette Heyer’s Venetia, is another jaded hero who rediscovers a sense of honor, which creates much of the romantic conflict. In the course of the book, Damerel’s intentions toward Veneita become honorable to the extent that only will he not seduce her, he thinks he’ll ruin her by marrying her. But I think one can argue that the confirmed rake Damerel has had a certain sense of honor all along. He has a wonderful exchange with Marston, his valet, which shows that he also behaves very honorably with Marston (he may lead him into scrapes, but he always rescues him, even at risk to himself).
Percy Blakeney is perhaps the epitome of the honorable hero, loyal to his friends, true to his word, driven to protect the weak. And yet his sense of honor also puts up barriers between him and Marguerite and makes it difficult to bridge the divide between them. I wished to test your love for me, and it did not bear the test, Marguerite says to him. You used to tell me that you drew the very breath of life but for me, and for love of me. To which Percy replies, And to probe that love, you demanded that I should forfeit mine honour,
In my own books, Charles struggles to behave honorably in a world he knows is far more gray than black and white. Perhaps I’m being a bloody idealistic fool, he says, but in this shifting sands of a world we live in, I’d like to believe my word at least counts for something. The hardest thing for him to get past when he learns the truth about Mélanie is that, in his words, You betrayed me, but in trusting you I betrayed my friends, my country, and any shred of honor I possessed. Mélanie realizes that However much Charles might reject the values of his world, his gentleman’s code of honor could make it impossible for him ever to forgive her for forcing him to break his word and betray his comrades.
And yet Charles does rethink is own conception of honor over the course of the book. It’s Mélanie who points out that The line between honor and dishonor is subject to definition. Quoting Shakespeare, she asks, What is honor? A word.
Which is the tricky thing about honor. Honor and honorable behavior mean different things to different people. Honor doesn’t just drive Francis Crawford, it drives the man who almost kills him. The insult to his friend Romeo’s honor drives Mercutio to his fatal fight with Tybalt. Rigid adherence to a code compels Inspector Javert to hunt down Jean Valjean, Ultimately when his code is too narrow to reconcile the debt he owes to Valjean for saving his life and his determination to bring Valjean to justice, he kills himself.
At the end of Secrets of a Lady, Charles has realized that Mélanie had …your own code before you met me. Mélanie says, that sounds suspiciously like ‘I could not love thee, dear, so much, Lov’d I not honor more. To which Charles replies An apt sentiment. He hasn’t given up his adherence to honor but he has broadened his definition.
In The Mask of Night, Mélanie asks him for his word that he won’t betray some of her former comrades. Charles gives it to her, but says Though I thought you were the one who claimed a word of honor was merely a word.
But a word you value highly, Mel replies.
Do you find honor a compelling quality in characters? Any interesting example of characters who are driven by honor for good or ill?
In this week’s addition to the Fraser Correspondence, Mélanie struggles with honorable behavior in a letter, to Raoul, a character many would call distinctly dishonorable, though as even Charles admits in The Mask of Night, he does have a code of sorts.
Update 20 August 2008: I’m blogging on History Hoydens today about Charting the world of a series. Do stop by and comment.
August 19, 2008 at 3:19 am
Gee… this is a very complicated topic. The word ‘honor’ has so many different meanings, each depending upon the person who is using the word.
What is honor? How much do you sacrifice for the person you love if their values come into conflict with your own?
One thing I have noticed in romances; typically, the Hero gets to keep his values even when they conflict with the heroine’s. The heroine, on the other hand, is supposed to put hers aside for the hero.
August 19, 2008 at 3:29 am
That’s it exactly, JMM. Honor has a very noble sound to it, but it is, going back to the Shakespeare quote, a word, and as such very subject to definition and in the eye of the beholder. It can mean living up to values, but it can also be an excuse for destructive behavior (duels after all were “affairs of honor”). Rigid adherence to a code of honor can prevent someone from seeing the bigger picture (my honors thesis was called “In Honour Bound: the Twilight of the Chivalric Paradigm.” In the late fifteenth century, when the medieval age was giving way to the Renaissance, many aristocrats clung to the rules of the chivalric world, even as the ground was changing beneath their feet.
When I was first writing “Secrets of a Lady”/”Daughter of the Game,” I went through in a revision and changed every time I had Mélanie use the word honor to “integrity” or another similar word. Which to her means something quite similar to what Charles means when he says “honor,” but honor really isn’t a word in Mélanie’s vocabulary.
August 19, 2008 at 4:13 am
One thing I forgot to say is that Melanie is one of the few heroines who doesn’t give up her core values to match her husband’s point of view. She doesn’t “see the light”.
“Rigid adherence to a code of honor can prevent someone from seeing the bigger picture” I love the way you write, Tracy!
And sometimes the hero’s sense of honor blinds him to the needs of individuals. And comes between himself and his love. I’ve read a lot of books in which the hero must learn that there are sometimes more important things than his personal code. And that his view of the world is not always the right one.
August 19, 2008 at 4:26 am
No, I don’t think Mélanie will ever see the light (or that Charles, at this point, would want her to
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“And sometimes the hero’s sense of honor blinds him to the needs of individuals. And comes between himself and his love. I’ve read a lot of books in which the hero must learn that there are sometimes more important things than his personal code. And that his view of the world is not always the right one.”
Good point. In “Venetia,” Damerel is so convinced that it would be dishonorable to marry Venetia,that it he puts it ahead of their happiness (well, he thinks Venetia’s happiness lies in not marrying him). For that matter, Francis Crawford is convinced that it would be dishonorable to seek happiness with the love of his life. “Every other woman since Eve has asked me be loved more than honour,” he tells her. “But not you.” It’s a powerful scene, but it also left me wanting to shake him and say “oh for heaven’s sake-stop wallowing”
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August 19, 2008 at 7:42 am
I feel the same about an eighteenth century novel I am currently persevering with, Tracy – ‘Celestina’ by Charlotte Smith. The hero and eponymous heroine, if they can be termed as such, are engaged to be married, but the hero made a promise to his dying mother that he would marry another, wealthy girl with connections, and neither can quite get over this fact. There is another major obstacle to their happiness, but they both spend the whole book, nearly, debating whether they should do the ‘honourable’ thing – he gave his word, she owes a debt of gratitude to the woman who took her in as an orphan. I’ve reached the final part, and I just want to shake them both – ‘For goodness’ sake, get married and live in poverty! Just stop going on about it!’
August 20, 2008 at 1:21 am
One of the reasons I loved Henry James’ novels when I was in college was because he allowed his female characters to have a code of honor, something that all too often was only allowed to men. Of course, just like men, they sometimes sacrificed far too much in the name of that code (”The Spoils of Poynton” comes to mind). Margaret, the heroine of Elizabeth Gaskell’s “North & South” has a similar moment. She doesn’t tell Thornton, the hero, the truth about the man she is seen with. He is her brother, who was unjustly accused of treason, and, if captured, he would probably be executed. She castigates herself over and over (and over) again for lying to Thornton, but if she’d told the truth her brother would possibly have died. Honor would have come at far too high a price.
Patricia Gaffney’s “To Love and To Cherish” and “To Have and To Hold” are interesting in large part due to the contrast between Christy and Sebastian, one of whom is the embodiment of honor and one of whom (at the beginning) appears to have no honor whatsoever. The books work alone, but together they are that much more powerful. And Christy puts the lie to the statement that goodness is boring, as he is anything but.
August 20, 2008 at 3:12 am
Tell me more about “Celestina”! I like to read older books; they can be hard to find.
I guess I can understand the issues – the idea of personal happiness over societial and family duties is fairly… recent. Even now, women are pressured to put others’ happiness above their own.
August 20, 2008 at 6:33 am
Sarah, like JMM, I’m curious to know more about “Celestina”! When was it written? I confess I’ve never heard of Charlotte Smith. Fascinating to discover another 18th century novelist!
Susan, great point about Henry James. Isabel, in “Portrait of a Lady,” also suffers for sticking to what she believes is honorable. And Edith Wharton’s men and women also confront issues of honor–”An Age of Innocence” being a notable example. Great comparison of Sebastian and Christy–it makes me want to reread the two books in order. I love it when books in a series work separately but gain resonance when read together.
August 20, 2008 at 4:29 pm
‘Celestina’ is a lot like Fanny Burney’s ‘Evelina’, in that it’s an early courtship novel – young girl finds true love and a husband, after much angst – but Charlotte Smith believes in making the reader wait! I’d compare the narrative to my experience of ‘Bleak House’ – long passages of description and introspection padding out occasional bursts of drama.
I really bought it to get an idea of contemporary eighteenth century fiction (it was written around the time of the French Revolution) – the dialogue, the morality, the romance – but I think I could have picked an easier read! Celestina is my type of heroine – outspoken, beautiful and talented but conceited, popular – but her attendant swains (plural) are driving me mad! I’m persevering in hopes that all ends well, and the demanding, arrogant lover and soppy, persistent admirer get their marching orders!
August 21, 2008 at 5:06 am
Thanks, Sarah! I’ll have to look for it–I’m always interested in 18th and early 19th century literature for the context and because my characters might have been reading it. Is there a guy you want Celestina to end up with? Or are they all annoying?
Speaking of novels written around the time of (well before) the French Revolution, have you read “Les Liaisons Dangereuses”?
August 21, 2008 at 8:15 am
I loved ‘Les Liaisons Dangereuses’ – it’s on the top of my ‘re-read’ list (as if I need to go back and revisit old territory!) Laclos was extremely skilled at presenting different ‘voices’ and using letters to build the tension – some think the ending could have done with being in ‘real time’, but I didn’t mind.
It’s always preferential to read contemporary novels – especially as I arm myself with a mental etymological dictionary whilst reading historical fiction, to prove if certain words and phrases are anachronistic (modern words jar on the eye) – but can sometimes be a bit of a slog to read. As to Celestina, if I were her, I would return to the convent that my late guardian adopted me from, and give up on all men! Her intended is wet and moderately disturbed, and her two suitors cannot take no for an answer – ‘Willoughby has forsaken you, so what can possibly be your objection?’ They’ve just fought a duel over her, for heaven’s sake!
August 21, 2008 at 3:47 pm
The O.E.D., with usages of a words by date, is a great friend to the historical novelist, but it’s still tricky
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Poor Celestina–you’ll have to post how the book ends!
August 21, 2008 at 6:33 pm
Finished! (I feel like I should break through a ribbon, or ring a bell, or something!) The pace picked up in the final 100 pages – even though their situation was incredibly contrived, and I knew Celestina would win back her Willoughby (though heaven knows why she would want him – lesser of three evils, probably), I was still cheering them on and eagerly turning the pages in the end. Celestina’s dubious parentage is uncovered, in true gothic fashion, and Willoughby rushes back to claim his bride. Her two suitors – the stalker and the libertine – are of course put out, but the stalker is rewarded with Celestina’s half-sister, and I think the libertine slides further into dissolution. Enjoyed it, in the end – might have to try ‘Evelina’ or ‘Emmeline’, after I’ve recovered!
August 22, 2008 at 5:27 am
Thanks for the report, Sarah! Sounds fun. Reminds me a bit of an early Regency I wrote with my mom (”The Courting of Philippa”) in which the heroine was trying choose between two suitors and ended up with an unexpected third guy. As a writer, I think it’s fascinating that you were caught up enough in the story to be cheering Celestina and Willoughby on despite not being overly fond of him.
So, in the end, did they stay true to their definition of honor?
August 22, 2008 at 8:37 am
I think it was more a case of ‘the ends justify the means’: Willoughby didn’t have to fulfil his reluctant promise to marry his cousin because she already had a lover, but he inherited enough money to save his ancestral home anyway; Celestina marries her intended, and her stalker suitor is pacified with her new-found half sister (don’t know what the sister thought!), so she doesn’t have a gothic suicide on her conscience; both were willing to give up everything to be together, but are rewarded with a nice inherited sum and a grand estate, not to mention wealthy family ties.
I think Smith was railing against authority and nobility for most of the novel, impressed as she was by the promise of the French Revolution, but her characters are allowed the easy way out
(By the way, Jane Austen was mocking this type of romance, and sensitive, emotional characters like Celestina and Willoughby, when she wrote ‘Sense and Sensibility’ twenty years later; Celestina is a subdued version of Marianne.)
August 22, 2008 at 3:33 pm
The Jane Austen connection makes total sense. Austen’s Willoughby would have married Marianne is he’d been able to keep his inheritance. The parallels are fascinating.