The Scarlet Pimpernel

"'Sacre tonnerre,' said the captain, 'but it is feared that it was that accursed Englishmen himself--the Scarlet Pimpernel" (Orczy 9).

Seventeen hundred and ninety-two. Paris, France. September massacres.

Ring any bells? Let us try a few more: Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. Madame Guillotine. Ah, Paris! If only you had known the hour of your visitation. Over a century after the curtain closed on France's "surging, seething" revolution, a Hungarian baroness dreamed of a messiah who might take the stage in an endless replay of swashbuckling and romantic liberation of the innocent. He is a brave master of disguise, living a mild-mannered life amongst his English kin and secretly delivering French aristocrats from the relentless maw of their bloody war. He doesn't display an emblematic S on his turgid chest; however, his moniker happens to carry the same initial. He is, of course, the Scarlet Pimpernel!

It was not until recently that I stumbled upon The Scarlet Pimpernel and drank deeply of its simply satisfying plot, prose, and psychological inspection of a seemingly star-crossed marriage. Maybe Les Misérables has jaded me toward literature addressing the myriad internal French conflicts, but I hesitated upon first immersing myself because I imagined the text being a lengthy portrayal of poverty and struggle ending with death, although not entirely unsatisfying. Well, I was wrong. The legacy of Baroness Orczy can be seen in the superhero storylines of today's media: the man in the mask, the beautiful lady carrying on her own private battles without any idea of her lover's self-sacrifice, and the iniquitous villain singularly devoted to his dastardly plot. I can think of a few directors who might benefit from taking a peek into this work and learning a thing or two about writing within the genre. And now, for our ubiquitous list:

1. "A woman's heart is such a complex problem--the owner thereof is often most incompetent to find the solution of this puzzle" (141).

The female voice. I believe in meaningful art. In fact, I would say that art created merely for the purpose of entertainment and not at all connected to the human experience is a waste (construe this statement as you will, for these pages are too short to soliloquize such nuanced subject matter). However, recently I attempted to embark upon a journey into a novel on a starlet of the '60s (my current era of fascination) and was inclined to put the book down after only a chapter. This particular text mentioned the disadvantages of women and the pitiable failings of men (through exposition, I might add, completely breaking out of the narrative) an estimated five to ten times in so many pages. My annoyance at these seemingly unrelated additions stole any curiosity I might have had about the plot or connection to the characters. I can accept a certain amount of an author's posturing for his or her ideological standing, but there comes a point where enough is enough! I cannot stomach such use of narrative for the sake of virtuous preaching. 

And here is where The Scarlet Pimpernel sets itself apart from so many modern novels: Baroness Orczy was a woman of singular talent. She faced the severely more gender imbalanced world of the late 19th century, and she did so by writing a female protagonist who is not offended by the heroism of the man immortalized on the cover of her novel. Margeurite is a woman--feminine, beautiful, witty, and brave. She can also be selfish, emotionally destructive, and naive. Orczy created a character that is true to the humanity of both men and women. Might we not be who we are, with the qualities of our gender intact and appreciated, but not ultimately defined by anything other than the universal elements that govern all of life?

This portion of my appreciation for the text is quite lengthy, so I hope that you will forgive me this indulgence before I move on to the next. To read a female character who is both flawed and admirable, who is not undermined by the success or failures of another (regardless of gender), is refreshing and necessary. I find myself nodding along to the thoughts of Margeurite as she exists in a myriad of realms without contradiction: a woman, a hero, a lover, a damsel, a person. In writing what is true, Orczy has created a case for the argument that so many women scream at the clouds these days. Women are human, equal to men, but they are also unique, divinely their own. Don't tell the world that this statement is true; show us through the crafting of good art.

2. "'I made friends with Madame Guillotine's lover,' she said with a coarse laugh, 'he cut these off for me from the heads as they rolled down" (7).

The theatricality. What makes a superhero flick so engaging? One answer might be the immense spectacle of it all, the improbability of the incredible rescue of the helpless. Our friend the Pimpernel flits across the English Channel with impunity and disguises himself as the most disquieting characters while whisking away the families next in line for decapitation. This dramatic iteration of an already immensely vivid historical conflict keeps the reader turning pages and suspending all disbelief for the sake of the hero who tickles our imaginations with his unscrupulous fight for justice.

3. "Had she but turned back then, and looked out once more on to the rose-lit garden, she would have seen...he kissed one by one the places where her small foot had trodden" (139).

The romance. How could we discuss such a novel without touching on the aspect that enlarges our hearts while the thrilling action widens our eyes? Sir Percy has every appearance of a hapless man attached to the stunning Margeurite for reasons unknown. Miscommunication and pride are the obstacles that stand in the way of their intimacy, and the reader is equally frustrated and entranced by their verbal disconnect and mutual internal agony. They long for each other, but yet feel that the other has either betrayed or been betrayed too thoroughly for redemptive recompense. Of course, it takes many lives and a foreign country's survival hanging in the balance to draw them together. But that is all par for the course of love, is it not?

It is so rare to find a novel that produces all of these aspects so fully, with such panache and relatability. If you are looking for a classic that is, to condense it all down to one word, a fun read, look no further than the book before you.