‘That Demmed, Elusive Pimpernel’

‘T hey seek him here. They seek him there. Those Frenchies seek him everywhere. Is he in Heaven? Or is he in Hell? That demmed, elusive Pimpernel.” Thrilling words, aren’t they? My 14-year-old self thought so, and honestly, I’ve never stopped thinking it. That enigmatic character, the Scarlet Pimpernel, has captured many an imagination for over a century now and has worked his way into mainstream cultural references. Daring rescues and clever escapes are now described in Scarlet Pimpernel-esque terms. Why, this literary character even had a real-life counterpart in Monsignor Hugh O’Flaherty, the priest who used his position in the Vatican to save Jews and Allied soldiers during World War II.

If you’ve never read the story, I’ll give just a brief taste to whet your appetite, but don’t go looking for spoilers, I beg you. It is the year of our Lord, 1792. The French Revolution scythes its bloody way through the country, abhorred but unchecked by neighboring lands. Noble men, women, and children are cruelly put to death. Will no one come to their aid? Enter the Scarlet Pimpernel. Never seen, but somehow always present, this master of disguise uses his clever wits and immense courage to spirit away those doomed to die. What is known about him? That he is an Englishman. That he is followed and implicitly obeyed by twelve unfalteringly loyal men. That he is a pestilence, according to Chauvelin, and must be destroyed.

Ah yes, Chauvelin. That man of the people. That “accredited agent of the French Republic.” Always in black, living his life with the sole, Javert-like desire to bring the Pimpernel to his knees. To carry out his treacherous deed, Chauvelin must manipulate the beautiful Lady Marguerite Blakeney. Our dear lady is French by birth, but an English noble by right of her marriage to the incredibly wealthy, fabulously foppish Sir Percy. Their marriage, once so happy, is now sadly cooled, with both parties’ pride standing in the way of reconciliation. It is into the lives of this estranged couple that the Scarlet Pimpernel and his escapades thrust themselves, sending all involved on an unforgettable adventure.

As a young reader, I hadn’t yet come across any books that made a married couple central to the tale. Children, animals, courting couples, widows, widowers, and divorcées, yes — but not a couple struggling to recover their lost love. It was intriguing, deeply romantic, and charming. Not to mention thrilling! While much of the tale may seem quaint to audiences of today, oversaturated as they are with modern cinema’s twists, turns, and explosions, Baroness Orczy’s classic story retains a certain sense of intrigue and chivalry now rarely found.

Emmuska Magdalena Rosalia Maria Josefa Barbara Orczy was born in 1865 to noble Hungarian parents. Local unrest led her family to flee to Budapest when Orczy was quite young. She then spent much of her early life in various parts of Europe and England. First performed as a stage play, The Scarlet Pimpernel opened in 1903 and gained acclaim by 1905 — enough to merit a book version. Today, it can even be found in musical form. Orczy was happily married to Montagu Barstow for nearly 50 years and became a famed writer of numerous gripping stage plays and novels. Some of these novels were continuations of the Scarlet Pimpernel tale, but none can hold a candle to the original story.

Perhaps because it was originally a play, The Scarlet Pimpernel does read a bit awkwardly at times. The character descriptions can be a bit muddled in the particulars, and Orczy tends to overuse certain descriptors. Some might scoff at its high-flown language and seemingly silly airs, but they have a surprising power and charm that sticks with readers and paints wonderful, dramatic scenes in the mind’s eye.

Of course, it has been made into a film, first in 1934, and then again in 1982. This second iteration stars the inimitable Anthony Andrews, the stunning Jane Seymour, and the wily Ian McKellen in the lead roles. Despite the dreadful liberties the screenwriter and director took with the tale, much of the story’s core charm remains. Unfortunately, the book’s exhilarating ending is completely changed for film, but we do get a daring fencing scene instead, which almost (but not quite) excuses it. One other adaptation of the story came to my (and my family’s) attention recently, namely that outrageous cartoon “The Scarlet Pumpernickel,” starring Daffy Duck. A Looney Tunes family through and through, we found this episode highly amusing and wondered if Daffy’s performance inspired anyone’s mannerisms in the 1982 adaptation.

Besides my delight in the story, my physical copy of it has given me much comfort over the years. At my high-school-graduation party, it was the guestbook for all to sign. Since then, it has traveled with me through college, summer internships, cross-country moves, and back home again. Sweet messages and beloved signatures fill the pages, giving me two-fold enjoyment each time I plunge back into the swashbuckling, passionate world of The Scarlet Pimpernel.