et sur mon manege,

For her entire life, Marguerite St. Just has been waiting for an unnamable something to happen. A precocious but lonely child who grew into a melancholy adult, she is unsure of how to deal with her newfound freedom, no longer living under the thumb of an overbearing, narcissistic mother. Having dropped out of her pre-med track in order to pursue her true passions in music instead, she finds life to be aimless and is bored by the mundanity of it all. As a girl, she had been particularly attached to fairytales and cheesy swashbucklers, and often dreamed of being swept up into a world full of adventure, ultimately leaving a mark on the world for the better.

Life as she knew it, however, would not last for long. The thrashing of her brother Armand at the behest of the influential St. Cyr family and the subsequent attempted assassination on the St. Cyr family patriarch leaves Marguerite shaken and thrown out of her rhythm. Feeling unheard by police and having confided in her friend, Armand Chauvelin, she can't help but wonder if she had caused his near death. The guilt nearly eats her alive. The sudden reappearance of Percy Blakeney, an old friend from childhood, only complicates the matter further, and the two soon enter into a relationship, driven by the intense feelings that they both harboured during their years of separation. At one point, they even consider eloping. She does not tell him about her role in the St. Cyr scandal, fearing judgement and unwilling to confront any potential ugliness that would shatter the illusion of their perfect, storybook romance.

Around the same time, a vigilante known as the Scarlet Pimpernel begins to make headlines in the local press. Elusive, phantom-like, and sharing their name with an old folk hero, the Pimpernel remains unseen and their true identity is unknown, leaving only a small note with a red flower behind to alert the public of their presence. Marguerite quickly grows attached to the elusive figure, idolising them and nearly bordering on obsession. She can't help but wonder if this is what she has been waiting for her whole life.

All good things must come to an end, however, and upon Percy's discovery of her potential involvement in the St. Cyr scandal from an unknown source, he distances himself from her and they officially put their relationship on hold. Devastated, Marguerite begins to isolate herself and spirals into despair, continuing to cling to her childhood fantasy of chivalry and heroism. However, it is not long before the darker underbelly of the vigilante world is right on her doorstep. As Chauvelin's obsessive search for the Pimpernel's identity pulls her into the belly of the beast, both Marguerite and Percy are forced to confront secrets that they had tried to keep buried for good...

NOW: The Scarlet Pimpernel is dead; or, at least, the Scarlet Pimpernel as she once knew it. Following the tumultuous events of the past year, Marguerite St. Just has been trying to rebuild her life and come to terms with her new "normal." She has successfully began a career as concertmaster of the London philharmonic orchestra, and has dabbled in acting and modeling on the side. With the Pimpernel's identtiy revealed and their trust regained, Marguerite and Percy rebuild their romantic relationship, deciding to hold off on getting married until they feel ready for such a hefty commitment. Still, the ghost of the Pimpernel haunts her every move, and when strange notes begin showing up at her flat and workplace, it's not long until the siren song of duty calls and the Pimpernel is needed once again.

NOTES.

This is this blog's primary story arc. Unless otherwise plotted/seen fit, all threads will be set here by default. This verse is essentially a post-canon verse that takes place after what would be the plot of the novel; Marguerite is around 23-24.

As of now, by default I write Marguerite as being the Scarlet Pimpernel instead of Percy. This is just where I'm getting most enjoyment out of my development and character exploration at the moment. However, if you'd like to write with a non-hero version of Margot I'm open to that as well, you'll just have to specify. For more general information and miscellaneous notes, see here.

The overarching conflict in any scenario is Marguerite's relationship with vigilantism, and how it impacts her life overall. Marguerite is trying to come to terms with her disillusionment and her new outlook on life and morality, rebuild her relationships with people, and is wondering if she can ever have a normal life again after she's thrust herself into the vigilante business in one way or another.

Since she was young, Marguerite had been poised to be a star. Her mother, Elizaveta Agapova, a Russian immigrant and accomplished skater in her home country, had pushed her older brother, Armand, into skating lessons as soon as she could, and Marguerite soon followed suit. Beginning skating at age three, she was coached by her mother for a majority of her career, seeking to relive her short-lived glory days through her young, precocious daughter. With her highly successful brother and mother as her role models, Marguerite became fueled by ambition and a quickly developing perfectionist streak. As a young girl, Marguerite heavily admired Nancy Kerrigan, and would cite her as being one of her inspirations.

Marguerite began her junior competitive career domestically, and quickly became well-known for her seemingly prodigious talent. Quickly becoming beloved in France, she would dominate women's ice skating at the junior level, nicknamed "the swan" for her artistic ability and fluidity on the ice, and "Miss Stability" for her consistency in competition. Her transition to the senior level would be promising as well, as she would go on to win the World Championship during her debut senior season, as well as the Winter Youth Olympics that same year. However, this was not enough for her mother, who had much greater ambitions for her daughter. If she were to truly flourish during her transition to seniors, she would have to begin a stricter training regiment (or so, her mother believed).

Soon, skating began to encompass her entire life. At her mother's insistence, Marguerite devoted all of her free time to skating, only being allowed rest if it was to focus on her studies. She would be pushed to her absolute limit, being made to skate even if she was in pain or sick in order to ensure that her jumps remained in tact. In order to ensure she remained at her peak, her mother also began putting her on a strict diet, monitoring her weight constantly in order to keep her in prime shape. These harsh conditions took a toll on the then fifteen year old Marguerite, and although she began to thrive and win many domestic and international competitions, her health floundered as a result.

Shortly before the Olympic season in 2017, Marguerite would leave her mother as a coach and move to Armand Chauvelin, a longtime friend of both her and her brother. Chauvelin had notably become Armand's coach, as well, following his own split from their mother following the 2014 Olympics. With Chauvelin, Marguerite began to not only rework her former training techniques, but her mindset as well. Still, the pressure of being a favourite for the podium—and possibly gold—was immense, and it would only be a matter of time before injuries and the pressure would cause her to crumble.

At the 2018 Olympics in Pyeongchang, South Korea, however, the unthinkable would happen. Her brother, Armand, would be intentionally injured by a fellow teammate, Marius de St. Cyr, following a scuffle, which would lead to him being unable to compete in the events. A similar sabotage attempt would be made on her by Marius' sister, Angèle, during warm-ups for the ladies' event. These two attacks and the scandal that followed suit would leave Marguerite shaken, and along with the pressure and an ankle injury, would cause her to completely bomb her short program, leaving her in 14th place before the free and out of contention for a medal.

Devastated by her short, she briefly considered entirely withdrawing from the rest of the event. However, she would give it her all during the free, and perform one of the best skates of her career and leaving her with a new season's best. Still, this would not be enough to place her on the podium, and she would finish off the 2018 Olympics at fourth, just off the podium and without a medal, much to her disappointment.

While she would continue to skate, going on to win silver at Worlds the same year and later win the 2019 World Championships, she would never be quite the same after the Olympics. Chronic injuries that she had sustained early in her career from her mother's coaching techniques would begin to cause serious problems as she entered the 2018-2019 season, leading to her taking an off-season in order to rest. During this time, her romantic relationship with fellow skater Percy Blakeney, the reigning men's world champion, would flourish, and they would frequently perform in ice shows in both Great Britain and France.

Marguerite would have a successful return to competition in during the 2021-2022 season, and would successfully qualify for the Olympics in Beijing. However, the pain from her injuries persisted, and she would retire from competition following the 2022 Olympics, where she managed to place second, winning the silver medal. Following her retirement, she would continue to be involved in the skating community, skating in ice shows and commentating several events.

Skating Profile.

Born 2 November 2000, Marguerite's skating career would last from the 2011-2012 season to the 2021-2022 season. She would retire due to chronic injuries sustained early in her career.

Notable Coaches: Elizaveta St. Just, née Agapova (2004-2017), Armand Chauvelin (2017-2022).

Notable Choreographers: Armand St. Just (2018-2022).

Notable Competition Record: World Champion (2016, 2019, 2021-2022), World Silver Medalist (2017-2018), Winter Olympics (2018, placing fourth; 2022, placing second), Grand Prix Final Champion (2021-2022), Grand Prix Final Silver Medalist (2017-2019), European Champion (2016-2019, 2021-2022), French Champion (2014-2015 at the junior level, 2016-2019; 2021-2022 at the senior level), Junior World Champion (2015), Junior World Silver Medalist (2014), Junior Grand Prix Silver Medalist (2014-2015), Winter Youth Olympic Champion (2016). Known for her consistency, she has only finished off the podium once during the 2018 Winter Olympic games.

Notable Aspects of Her Skating: triple axel+triple toe combo (attempted, first landed cleanly during the 2017-2018 season), triple axel, triple lutz+triple loop combo, Kerrigan Spiral, layback (most notably the Biellmann) + camel spins, clean, speedy step sequences, mastery in compulsory figures (2014-2015 season), quad toe (attempted, never landed cleanly). In her decade long career, Marguerite has rarely received edge calls on her jumps, and is consistently praised for her near textbook technique.

Notable Programs.

2021-2022 (Olympic Season): "Send in the Clowns," Stephen Sondheim (SP) / "Adios Nonino," Ástor Piazzolla (FP).

2020-2021: Les Parapluies de Cherbourg Medley (SP) / "Salome," Richard Strauss (FP).

2018-2019: "Miss Saigon," Claude-Michel Schönberg (SP) / "The Bells of Moscow," Sergei Rachmaninoff (FP).

2017-2018 (Olympic Season): "La Strada," Nino Rota (SP) / "Turandot," Giacomo Puccini and Renato Simoni (FP).

2016-2017: "Les Misérables," Claude-Michel Schönberg (SP) / Carmen Medley, Georges Bizet (FP).

2015-2016: "Bolero," Maurice Ravel (SP) / "Romeo and Juliet," Nino Rota (FP).

2014-2015: "East of Eden," Lee Holdridge (SP) / "Samson and Delilah," Camille Saint-Saëns (FP).

2013-2014: "Humoresque," Antonín Dvořák (SP) / "The Carnival of the Animals," Camille Saint-Saëns (FP)

Notable Relationships.

Elizaveta St. Just (Agapova): Marguerite and Armand's mother, and their coach for a majority of their careers. A two-time Russian champion and former World Champion, her career was cut short following an injury at age nineteen just before the 1988 Olympics. Following the scandal between Armand and Elizaveta following his departure from her coaching after the 2014 Olympics, Marguerite would become Elizaveta's primary focus. Even to this day, Marguerite has a difficult time processing what her mother had put her through during her competitive years, and doesn't often speak of her.

Armand St. Just: Marguerite's older brother. The 2010 Olympic champion, he would have a successful career until his forced retirement in 2018. Marguerite is very close to her brother, and he is one of her role models. Following his retirement, Armand choreographed all of Marguerite's routines for the rest of her competitive career, and, when possible, skates in ice shows.

Percival "Percy" Blakeney: A skater from Great Britain, the longstanding world champion for the men's singles discipline, and Marguerite's boyfriend. Known for his athleticism, but noticeably lacking when it comes to artistry. The two of them met at Worlds in 2017, and being close in age, they quickly became close. They began dating in 2018 during the Olympics, but did not make their relationship public until 2020. Following his retirement in 2024, he skates with Marguerite in ice shows, and the two of them have even considered taking up ice dance.

Armand Chauvelin: Former Olympic silver medalist and a close friend of Marguerite and Armand. Marguerite would be coached by Chauvelin following her departure from Elizaveta in 2017, where he would help her rework her technical ability and her mindset. The two remain close to this day.

Marius & Angèle de St. Cyr: Siblings, both members of the wealthy and powerful St. Cyr family. They had been sent to the 2018 Olympics as members of Team France, where they would both successfully and unsuccessfully attempt to sabotage Marguerite and Armand. The scandal resulting from this would lead to both siblings being banned from competition for three years, and they would later return to skating as partners in the Ice Dance discipline.

i. Pimpernel and the History of Superhero Fiction.

When The Scarlet Pimpernel first premiered as a play in London in 1903, it became a favourite among audiences. Drawing inspiration from her tumultuous childhood, in which she escaped a peasant’s revolt with her family, Baroness Orczy’s eponymous hero was, at the time, the first of his kind. The story of uncovering the mystery of a man’s heroic double life spoke to the hearts and imaginations of early twentieth century theatre-goers, and led to the play’s massive success in London.

Part of the allure of Pimpernel, scholar Sally Dugan argues, was its inherent Englishness and how it engaged with ideas of English nationalism and culture at the turn of the century, such as Percy and the League being a clear reference to King Arthur and his Knights of the Roundtable—what Dungan describes as “Victorian Arthuriana” (Dugan, 22-23). Despite this, however, the idea of the double-lifed hero and of secret identities in general resonated more with American audiences than it did with British audiences. While Pimpernel the play had been translated into several languages across Europe, the publication of Pimpernel’s novel version in 1905 allowed for the novel to reach a wider audience, and thus beginning the many pulp heroes inspired by Orczy’s avant-garde hero that would be the predecessors to superhero comics.

The most notable of these pulp heroes would be Zorro, the masked vigilante who brought justice to his community in Spanish Los Angeles. Diego de la Vega would share many of Percy’s traits (living a mild-mannered double life, having an identifying signature, often associated with chivalry and romance), and the success of Zorro would further popularise the idea of a masked/secret identity in the American cultural zeitgeist.

From here, the superhero comic would finally emerge, with Superman making his debut appearance in 1938, followed by Batman in 1939. Making their debuts right at the end of the Great Depression and on the cusp of the second World War, these comics would be incredibly successful, reflecting people’s hopes and fears of the time. Roger B. Rollin also believes that part of this comfort comes in the security these stories generate: how, no matter the circumstance, good will always triumph over evil (85). This would continue into today, where some of the most popular franchises are superhero related. In a time of uncertainty, much like how Orczy published Pimpernel right at the turn of the century, having something like a superhero comic helped alleviate the disquiet of the American public.

ii. Into the Fire: Pimpernel and Modern Superhero Fiction.

As mentioned before, Pimpernel is a bit of an anomaly when put into the broader scope of superhero fiction today. The original novel is a melange of different genres—both a Gothic and Arthurian Romance, a mystery and an epic—with its titular character not even being the novel’s protagonist, putting it into a grey area both when it comes to adaptations and how it is perceived by modern audiences. It is difficult, after all, to keep the novel’s gimmick a mystery when, more often than not, Percy Blakeney’s claim as the “first superhero” is the driving marketing ploy. This would become evident in the first major adaptation, the 1934 film starring Leslie Howard and Merle Oberon, in which Percy is effectively a dual protagonist alongside Marguerite.

It is notable that the 1934 film predates the debut of both Superman and Batman and of mainstream superhero comics as a whole. While pulp heroes like Zorro were gaining consciousness, they did not yet have the substantial cultural influence that later superheroes from DC and Marvel would have in the public consciousness, and thus, would not really influence how Pimpernel would have been perceived at the time. Furthermore, the 1934 film was a British production, helmed by Alexander Korda, one of British cinema’s most prolific directors and producers at the time. Thus, the changes made to the 1934 film do not entirely shift Pimpernel’s identity as a story, still keeping the high tensions and drama while ditching the mystery and more gothic elements of the novel that would not have translated well to the film that Korda and the British public would have wanted to see.

I mention the Britishness of Pimpernel ‘34’s production because I believe that Americana and American ideals are an inherent foundational aspect of modern superhero fiction. The most popular superheroes today derive from American comic writers, and more often than not, their most famous stories or character features incorporate or are heavily influenced by American culture and politics of the era. As Walter Ong writes about the creation of Superman:

“... Superman’s publishers like to circulate testimonials that represent him as the incarnation of the ideal for an entire nation (...) ‘Superman represents all the modern American Youth ever hoped to be, physically, mentally, morally, and spiritually’ (...) The comics tinkering with the notion of the hero as the emotional correlative of the whole nation marches exactly the technique of Hitler, who was the prototype and hero of those who wanted to be ‘typical Germans’” (37).

Much like Superman is the embodiment of an American ideal, The Scarlet Pimpernel is a British one. While Baroness Orczy was born in Hungary, she lived in Britain for most of her adult life, and had embraced the British ideals of chivalry and noblesse oblige that would influence the creation of Percy Blakeney as a character. Dungan notes the importance of Percy not only being the ideal British man, but specifically the ideal English aristocrat, with his character being used as “a way of finding a new (albeit fictional) role for members of an outdated elite” (22). While superficial comparisons can be drawn between Batman and Percy, I find that Superman is a much better parallel to draw when it comes to the nationalistic elements found in both modern superhero fiction and The Scarlet Pimpernel, even if they are much more overt in the former’s case.

The adaptation that heavily influenced following adaptations would be the CBS 1982 made for TV film starring Anthony Andrews, Jane Seymour, and Ian McKellen. This Pimpernel adaptation would be released during a time when superhero fiction was becoming incredibly influential within the cultural zeitgeist, with the Christopher Reeves Superman films in particular being incredibly popular in the early 80s. The prevalence of superhero media, however, meant that this Pimpernel adaptation would have to change many aspects in order to fit in alongside its descendent works. Thus, you begin to see the trend of Pimpernel adaptations compensating for the novel’s lack of any real action or fights with the inclusion of swashbuckling elements, such as the swordfight that happens between Percy and Chauvelin at the end of the film. Baroness Orczy would include many elements of swashbuckling fiction into sequel novels, however, they are not present at all within the original novel, with the Pimpernel’s daring pursuits and adventures primarily being described in passing. While the 1982 film was not the first adaptation to include these more adventurous and action-filled elements (most notably the 1955 television series with Marius Goring), it would be the one to popularise the image of Pimpernel being a swashbuckler to wider audiences, further separating the cultural perception of Pimpernel from the original novel.

This pattern would continue into the 90s, with films such as the original Batman film series being released to critical acclaim once again inspiring filmmakers to try and adapt Pimpernel once again. Funnily enough, this decade’s Pimpernel adaptation would arguably be going full circle, with the version of Percy featured in the 1990 miniseries starring Richard E. Grant being directly inspired by the popularity of Batman. Gone is the foppishness and overt flamboyance that came with Percy’s double life and disguises; instead, he is a no-nonsense and edgy rogue who wears all black whilst being the Pimpernel in an effort to imitate his descendent. The 1990 miniseries is my least favourite and the most egregiously unfaithful for a plethora of other reasons, however, it’s fascinating to see how this Pimpernel adaptation would be directly inspired by another character that was derived from its source material, a risk that did not end up working in the miniseries’ favour in the end.

While the inclusion of epic, swashbuckling elements and a more action-filled story through slotting Percy as the protagonist and face of the story rather than Marguerite gives Pimpernel a more recognisable identity in the wider cultural zeitgeist, I find that this perception is incredibly misleading and not representative of Orczy’s original novel in the slightest. However, I also believe that falling down this path is somewhat inevitable as well. Baroness Orczy herself sacrificed a lot of the mystery elements in her original novel for more pulpy, action-filled plots, bringing Percy into the spotlight and further reducing Marguerite to the role of an anxious damsel with each new sequel she wrote.

There is a conversation to be had, however, about the longevity of Pimpernel as a story more so than most other superhero stories today. Dungan notes how popular The Scarlet Pimpernel became with the onset of both World Wars, with World War II in particular bringing the novel into the spotlight. Parallels between the rise of Nazism and Orczy’s portrayal of the Reign of Terror would often be made, most notably through a modernised adaptation called Pimpernel Smith. This timelessness seems to be purposeful on Orczy’s part, as in her autobiography she writes on the conception of Pimpernel:

“These were, of course, the final links of the chain of my life which culminated in the conception of the Scarlet Pimpernel. His personality and that of the minor characters in the story had not yet begun to shape themselves in my mind. I did not then as much as think of him nor of Chauvelin nor of Marguerite, but the background was there: the pity for the victims of that terrible revolution, which had been brought about by injustice and tyranny and of which so many were the innocent sufferers. And during the last month of our stay in Paris the outline of my story began to take definite form in my mind. The shell only: the vital core was yet to come” (Orczy, “Links in the Chain of Life”).

Still, with each Pimpernel adaptation trying to grapple with both the current cultural perception of the story while also trying to return to form with interpreting Orczy’s novel, it leads me to ask: when will enough be enough?

I tend to be in the minority when I say that I don’t believe another Pimpernel adaptation is needed. There are just so many other stories that deserve to be told instead of Pimpernel, ones that aren’t riddled with classism and English exceptionalism. However, I believe that in order to properly re-examine and adapt Pimpernel in the modern day, we must return to form. Ignoring the Zorro-esque swashbuckling imagery that has become synonymous with the story in pop culture, the novel should be the primary consultant. However, there is also a balancing act that must be done in regards to Pimpernel’s legacy and long lasting mark on the superhero genre. How are we supposed to return to form while also acknowledging Pimpernel’s impact and showing that in film or another form of media? I don’t think there is a simple answer to this. The mystery and gothicism does not need to return entirely—I think it would be impossible to do, anyhow—however, to ignore the novel’s original themes and story would do the story a disservice, and I believe that, in this specific case, the original intent is what matters most.

iii. Marguerite St. Just: The Unlikely Heroine.

To put it bluntly, there will never be another heroine in superhero fiction like Marguerite St. Just. Orczy’s heroine is a bit of a head-scratcher when it comes to adaptations; she’s the novel’s protagonist and heart, however, her story is arguably more passive than a story told from Percy’s perspective, where the audience would be able to follow him on all of his adventures. Thus, her role in the story is often reduced to only being Percy’s love interest, and in some cases, she is removed entirely. In the words of musical librettist Nan Knighton, “I wanted it to be Percy’s story. I mean, it is Percy’s story (...) If I’d told the story through Marguerite's point of view, I doubt this would have been the case [the musical being as enjoyable/entertaining].”

This, of course, is a stance I vehemently disagree with, however, to truly understand why Pimpernel has been so difficult to adapt, I believe analysing Marguerite’s importance as the protagonist is crucial to this. She is what brings all of the novel’s elements together; the melange of genres, the mystery and gothicism, and her character arc and main storyline ultimately being the foundation that the rest of the action and suspense is built upon. Without Marguerite as the protagonist, there would not be any Scarlet Pimpernel.

When it comes to discussing Marguerite’s role as the protagonist, I have always believed that a reason that she is so difficult to adapt right is because her character is an anomaly, both for the genre she was written for and for the time she was written in. The passage below is a prime example of one of the quirks of her character:

“Marguerite had often, with that good-natured contempt which she had recently adopted towards her husband, chaffed him about this secrecy which surrounded his private study. Laughingly she had always declared that he strictly excluded all prying eyes from his sanctum for fear they should detect how very little “study” went on within its four walls: a comfortable arm-chair for Sir Percy’s sweet slumbers was, no doubt, its most conspicuous piece of furniture. (...) A sudden, burning, childish curiosity seized her to have a peep at Sir Percy’s sanctum. The restriction, of course, did not apply to her, and Frank would, of course, not dare to oppose her. Still, she hoped that the valet would be busy in one of the other rooms, that she might have that one quick peep in secret, and unmolested.  Gently, on tip-toe, she crossed the landing and, like Blue Beard’s wife, trembling half with excitement and wonder, she paused a moment on the threshold, strangely perturbed and irresolute.” –––     CH XVIII,  THE SECRET DEVICE.

Both in jest and in earnest, I have always believed that Marguerite is a gothic heroine stuck within the narrative of a Romance. While she sets the precedent for later superhero love interests and heroines, particularly during many early comic runs, she does not necessarily fit well into the mould she has created. Her primary motivation and struggle throughout the novel is her guilt; she is constantly haunted by the past and what she has done, and in her isolation, ultimately takes matters into her own hands in order to uncover her husband’s secret. The build-up to the discovery of Percy’s dual identity as well is long and drawn-out, the explicit mention of Bluebeard evoking the connotation of danger and damnation. In this sense, Marguerite has much more in common with Jane Eyre or the second Mrs. De Winter than Lois Lane.

Furthermore, Marguerite’s morality and juxtaposing motivations and past leave her not quite fitting a certain character archetype in the same way that Percy does. She’s independent yet her autonomy is stripped from her, she loathes her husband and reveres the Pimpernel, she is both selfish and selfless, a villainess in some ways and the novel’s heroine, loving and destructive. Originally created to be Orczy’s fantastical version of herself, she has gained a life of her own outside of the parametres her creator had established for her. It is not difficult to see why she has fascinated so many readers to this day; she is a character that is built on paradoxes. Despite her perceived wickedness, she is a character that the reader puts their faith in to grow and make things right, and ultimately, she is able to prove herself and her goodness at the end of the novel. Therein lies the true emotional journey of The Scarlet Pimpernel.

Yet, centring Marguerite in the narrative caused problems for Orczy when she began continuing the story and continuity she had established in the original novel. As Dungan explains:

“If the Scarlet Pimpernel novels are a celebration of Englishness, Orczy set herself a problem by placing a Frenchwoman at the very heart of her stories. This was compounded by pressures – particularly strong during wartime – to identify Englishness with masculinity. Increasingly she is forced to foreground Sir Percy, whose effeminate disguise hints at his role as a focus for his female creator’s energies” (177).

Furthermore, I believe that Marguerite’s disjointedness as a character would have made it more difficult for audiences to identify with her as the story was expanded upon. Her volatile temper and wobbly morality made her the perfect protagonist for the original novel’s story, but as more sequels were written and the story formula was becoming more standardised, a more consistent, more agreeable protagonist was needed for these stories. Thus, Percy took centre stage, outshining Marguerite and becoming the more popular of the two.

The sidelining of Marguerite in the narrative, however, would have devastating consequences in adaptation. Because Marguerite’s story was the glue that held everything together in the original novel, it was difficult to figure out what to do with her when Percy ended up superseding her. In the sequels, she would become an anxious housewife, often being left at home or relegated to domestic tasks for Percy on his missions. In adaptation, her role would be reduced significantly. In most adaptations, she is reduced to simply being the love interest, with everything but her most crucial scenes and plot points from the novel being left on the cutting room floor. This loss of autonomy is particularly devastating for her character, particularly when it comes to her involvement in the denunciation of St. Cyr.

Not only do these changes weaken Marguerite’s character, they also end up weakening the narrative as a whole. A lot of the original novel hinges on sympathising with Marguerite, and many of the events that happen within the novel are directly connected to the emotional turmoil she experiences. So when adaptations try to balance the two out, it often falls flat because not enough attention is put onto Marguerite’s character or the relationships she has with other characters. While there are often enough original elements to keep the plot afloat, the emotional pull that was present in the original novel is no longer there. There is often a certain level of detachment that is felt once the main story is set into motion; after all, how is the audience supposed to care when none of these relationships have been properly developed? This is the problem that plagued the musical, and why its story was never able to find its footing.

Marguerite’s role as the protagonist is an essential part of the original novel’s identity. Despite being sidelined later on, her unconventional character and emotional journey are what bring the novel’s narrative together. Part of restoring Pimpernel to its original form is to centre Marguerite in the narrative once again, giving her back her voice and autonomy and allowing her to hold as much weight in the narrative as Percy does in modern incarnations. 

iv. Conclusion.

The Scarlet Pimpernel is a story that has endured into the modern day despite everything. With its influence on the superhero genre and the unique place it has in literary history, it has always been disappointing to see the story lose its original identity. While many of the aspects of the novel, such as Orczy’s rampant classism, xenophobia, and antisemitism, are better left gone, the novel’s original blend of genres and thrilling mystery has been lost in adaptation, with the modern day perception being quite misleading and not reflective of Orczy’s original vision.

It will take time to reevaluate Pimpernel without its pop culture identity constantly looming, however, it is important to analyse the original novel and appreciate it in that form. Pimpenel’s legacy is vast, and my hope for any new adaptation or derivative works is that it can both honour the novel’s themes and tone while also acknowledging its legacy and the rest of the superhero genre.

Born and raised just outside of Gotham City to immigrant parents, duty and ambition have always been apart of Marguerite St. Just's life. Having been controlled by her mother's iron fist for most of her life, she wants to carve out her own path for herself—to make her mark on the world and leave it a better place than before. A former child prodigy, she decides to study music in university, defying her mother's wishes to go into pre-med, and later becomes concertmaster of Gotham's philharmonic orchestra and enters into an on-again-off-again relationship with one Percy Blakeney. Still, she remains feeling unfulfilled, harboring a restlessness that never seems to go away.

At age nineteen, Marguerite inadvertently becomes involved in an incident resulting in the hospitalization and near-death of Marius de St. Cyr, one of wealthy CEO St. Cyr's sons, after he had sent some goons to attack her older brother, Armand. He had been writing scathing articles about the family in the Daily Planet, and had once dated St. Cyr's daughter, Angèle. Wracked by guilt and inspired by the swashbuckling serials and films she loved as a girl, Marguerite dons the mantra of 'The Scarlet Pimpernel,' a vigilante who becomes somewhat of an urban legend amongst Gothamites. The Pimpernel has never been photographed and has rarely ever been seen by the average person, with the only evidence of her existence being the small note she leaves behind, signed with a small, red flower in one of the bottom corners. Despite this ominous gimmick and slightly questionable methods, her motivations are entirely innocent: all she wants to do is to help the innocent and uphold justice, no matter the cost.

For the first year, she operates alone. She has always viewed the hero's burden as being one that she must bear on her own, not seeking out the assistance or company of anyone else besides Armand. That is until she befriends Ice/Tora Olafsdatter, and is introduced to the rest of the Justice League International. With a little encouragement, she agrees to move to Metropolis and officially join the Justice League, and for the next year or so, she's content. Juggling between her civilian and vigilante responsibilities takes its toll on her, however, she always has her friends—especially Tora, Bea, and Ted—to fall back on whenever she was overwhelmed. For a while, she thinks she could get used to this life.

And then Tora dies, and with her death, the Justice League splits. Marguerite does not choose to go with either the remaining Justice League members or with Extreme Justice, choosing instead to depart entirely and return to her home city of Gotham. During this time, she completely shuts down, pulling away from everyone and throwing herself fully into her vigilante work. Disillusioned and angry with the world, she begins to use the Pimpernel as a self-destructive outlet, no longer caring about her own life so long as she stayed true to her cause: upholding justice, no matter the cost.

She cannot run from the consequences forever, however. A falling out with Armand and Chauvelin becoming increasingly obsessed with capturing the Pimpernel is enough to shake her from her routine, and her disillusionment is quickly replaced by paranoia. It's not until Percy's near-death, however, after having discovered her identity, where she finally decides that enough is enough. An altercation with Chauvelin one night leads to her faking her death, retiring the Pimpernel for a year or two until it inevitably pulls her back in...

CURRENTLY: Currently aged twenty-five, Marguerite has returned to donning the Pimpernel mantle, still coming to terms with what exactly vigilantism and the Pimpernel mean to her, and whether it's worth the cost of losing the people she loves. Still with that typical Pimpernel stealth and the like, only with a much healthier mindset and outlook on vigilantism and life as a whole.

IMPORTANT DYNAMICS.

ARMAND ST. JUST: Marguerite's older brother and close confidant, being one of the only people who knows that she is the Pimpernel. He works as a writer for the Daily Planet, primarily writing opinion pieces whilst trying to get a book deal for his personal writings on the side.

PERCY BLAKENEY: Marguerite's on-again-off-again boyfriend and heir to one of the wealthiest families in Gotham, though he currently lives in Metropolis. Foppish and a little bit vain, his relationship with Marguerite becomes strained as she throws herself into her vigilante work, and it's not until he discovers her identity and nearly dies for it that they begin to fully work through their relationship. Despite everything, he still loves her fiercely, and they vow to never keep secrets from each other again, though in practice there's still a lot of progress to be made on that end.

ARMAND CHAUVELIN: A family friend of the St. Just's, Marguerite considers him to be an older brother of sorts. Disapproving of the Pimpernel's methods, he vows to capture—or, at one point, kill—her in order to restore order to Gotham city. While Marguerite still considers him to be a close friend, their relationship is much more strained, and she's not sure if he ever discovered that she was the Pimpernel all along.

SUZANNE DE TOURNAY: Marguerite's best friend and confidante, often volunteering at the Starlight Foundation. Attached to the hip since they were babies, Marguerite tries to keep her out of the Pimpernel's business for as long as possible, until she has to save Suzanne and her brother unexpectedly during a mission. Following an identity reveal, the two have a falling out, though by the time Marguerite decides to take up the Pimpernel mantle again, they have mended their relationship.

ICE/TORA OLAFSDATTER: Marguerite's close friend. Tora's death shakes Marguerite's entire world, and she never truly recovers from it. Needless to say, when Tora is eventually resurrected, Marguerite doesn't take the news all too well.

TED KORD/BLUE BEETLE: Marguerite's close friend, and one of the only people she stayed in contact with following her departure from the JLI. The news of his death nearly sends her over the edge, though she reacts to his resurrection much better than she does Tora's.

ARLENE LYNNS/FIREFLY: Ex-girlfriend, enemy... it's complicated.

JOHNNY BLAZE/GHOST RIDER: One of Marguerite's best friends. Banter galore and a shared questionable taste in men between these two.

BARBARA GORDON/ORACLE: Business partner and later friend. Their partnership begins shortly after Marguerite takes up the Pimpernel mantle again, and while she never quite warms up to the idea of officially joining the Birds of Prey, she cherishes Babs' companionship and eventual friendship dearly.

VERSE NOTES.

Marguerite is a neutral vigilante. While she is not a villain and never aligns herself with them, she does not align herself with most of the other vigilantes either. She prefers to work solo, only striking up alliances with other vigilantes when she needs something from them or if it's more convenient to team up rather than going at her mission alone.

Marguerite is primarily stationed in Gotham and operates adjacent to Batman and the Batfamily. For all intents and purposes, she considers them to be her allies, although she stays out of their way 99% of the time. She does travel to Metropolis a lot to visit her brother and Percy, as well as having lived there temporarily when she was a member of the Justice League, so she'd also probably be well-acquainted with the Superfam as well. In Marvel or other related comic settings, Marguerite will be stationed in New York City.

When she's not in her whole vigilante getup, Marguerite often hangs in Gotham's art districts. She's a very unassuming person outside of the costume, and given that she hides her face, your muse would not be able to recognize her as the Pimpernel unless they're very observant and pick up on some of the small mannerisms they share. I'm not against other vigilantes recognizing her from her time as a member of the JLI, but for the most part, I want the Pimpernel to retain that Phantom of the Opera-like air of mystery to it that was present in the original novel, and thus, have the Pimpernel remain somewhat of an urban legend.

Orczy doesn't write much about the denunciation itself, and most of it is Marguerite's reflections and guilt about the situation in hindsight and after the consequences have fully caught up to her. There is a blurb of exposition in chapter 8, however, that is explains the denunciation and the circumstances leading up to it:

Years ago, Armand, her dear brother, had loved Angèle de St. Cyr, but St. Just was a plebeian, and the Marquis full of the pride and arrogant prejudices of his caste. One day Armand, the respectful, timid lover, ventured on sending a small poem—enthusiastic, ardent, passionate—to the idol of his dreams. The next night he was waylaid just outside Paris by the valets of the Marquis de St. Cyr, and ignominiously thrashed—thrashed like a dog within an inch of his life—because he had dared to raise his eyes to the daughter of the aristocrat. (...) Then the day of retribution came. St. Cyr and his kind had found their masters, in those same plebeians whom they had despised. (...) Marguerite, impulsive, thoughtless, not calculating the purport of her words, still smarting under the terrible insult her brother had suffered at the Marquis’ hands, happened to hear—amongst her own coterie—that the St. Cyrs were in treasonable correspondence with Austria, hoping to obtain the Emperor’s support to quell the growing revolution in their own country. In those days one denunciation was sufficient: Marguerite’s few thoughtless words anent the Marquis de St. Cyr bore fruit within twenty-four hours. He was arrested. His papers were searched: letters from the Austrian Emperor, promising to send troops against the Paris populace, were found in his desk. He was arraigned for treason against the nation, and sent to the guillotine, whilst his family, his wife and his sons, shared this awful fate.

The wording of some sections are still quite vague at times, despite how long this section of text is. However, this does allow us to piece together a general timeline of events, from Armand's thrashing to the actual denunciation. That being:

Armand is thrashed for showing interest, in St. Cyr's daugher, Angèle, and is described as having only been left with 'an inch of his life' by the end of it

Sometime after the event, Marguerite hears from her social circles that St. Cyr is possibly corresponding with the Austrian government.

Marguerite takes this information and goes to someone involved in the government that she knows, denouncing St. Cyr (whether this is done publicly or privately is never revealed).

St. Cyr and his family are executed shortly thereafter.

This timeline is sufficient enough, and it gets the job done for the story that Orczy is trying to tell, but I've always found the last half of the timeline specifically leaves much to be desired. Timeline wise, the time between each event is left vague, especially the time between Marguerite hearing of St. Cyr's correspondence and her actually denouncing him. Logistics wise, I find it hard to believe that she would just up and go denounce St. Cyr without being sure of the claim's validity. She's desperate to make St. Cyr face justice for what he did to Armand, but she's also staunchly against the revolution's brutal violence—and later, of the guillotine.

Furthermore, while she knows that her own word is enough, she is someone who would like to collect some kind of tangible evidence to present (see: Chauvelin needing to snag one of Armand's Pimpernel-addressed letters off of him in order to successfully blackmail her). She's doubtful of others and is hesitant to trust anyone's word, so to have her just go up to some random high-up government official—even accounting for her impulsivity—feels incredibly out of character for me. The fact that the novel doesn't even specify who she tells this to is a bit eye raising to me; she would not just tell anyone she knows about St. Cyr's correspondence, it would have to be someone she trusted immensely.

Lastly, there's just a lot that could be expanded upon here. I enjoy what Orczy has established, but I do wish that there was a more concrete set of events to go off of in the novel. While I still do believe that Marguerite's motives here were selfless, there is also a lot of selfishness that is involved when it comes to the St. Cyr denunciation, and frankly, I think I gave her a little too much grace originally. She wanted St. Cyr to face justice both for Armand's sake and her own personal thirst for revenge, and I believe that the selfish desire to find gratification out of his humiliation of prosecution overrode her love for Armand during the denunciation specifically. Marguerite feels her emotions in hefty extremes, and anger/wrath is no different, so it's no wonder to me that she would hastily denounce him whilst her emotions were still high. She didn't care about the consequences until they finally caught up to her. That doesn't negate her love for Armand entirely in the equation, it's just another layer of nuance that needs to be considered when analyzing her motives.

Adaptations, luckily, expand upon Orczy's foundation and bring their own spin on the St. Cyr debacle, for better or for worse. The 1934 film is the closest to the novel in this regard, with the only change being that Marguerite was in love with a St. Cyr and imprisoned for it instead of Armand, which, despite my issues with it, still fits thematically with her character arc. Others don't follow the original text as closely.

When it comes to most Pimpernel adaptations, there are usually three main components that they all share when it comes to St. Cyr's denunciation:

Marguerite has a tangible note incriminating St. Cyr, and is always hesitant to give it up. This often goes hand-in-hand with the adaptation's change of motive for the denunciation, but not always.

Chauvelin is always involved somehow; in most cases, he's also portrayed as being her former lover.

Marguerite does not give up the note of her own will; Chauvelin manipulates her in some way, whether that be through threats or subtler means. She's coerced either way.

Now, there are a few adaptational expansions that I enjoy and incorporate into my portrayal. Firstly, I like that Marguerite actually has a note. It builds upon the original depiction of events by actually having her investigate those claims, while also giving her evidence that proves beyond a doubt that he's guilty. While there is a point to make that it would be more interesting if Marguerite denounced him not knowing the validity of those claims, it's more in line with her character to scope out the situation before acting. Secondly, I like Chauvelin being explicitly named as the person she denounces St. Cyr to. While I don't like that they're often portrayed as ex-lovers, in the novel they're implied to have had an extremely close friendship prior to the main story, and in my characterization there's a found family aspect to their dynamic, as their friendship was so tight-knit that they viewed one another as siblings. It's almost a no-brainer that she would go to Chauvelin to confide in regarding St. Cyr's correspondence, and later, denunciation. The part I do take issue with, however, is the third part: the added manipulation.

The St. Cyr denunciation has always been about Marguerite's autonomy. The novel ensures to emphasize that she denounced him of her own free will, and to strip her of her agency here brings up a larger conversation about how writers seem to strip Marguerite of her autonomy in adaptation entirely. While I could go on about how this affects the variations of this event in various adaptations, the one I want to focus on—and the one I believe is the most horrendous in this regard—is, no shocker, the Wildhorn/Knighton musical.

With the musical, there are two scenes that I want to take a look at specifically: the scene at the theatre (present in version 2.0 and onward), and the garden scene.

Firstly, the theatre scene:

CHAUVELIN.   I believe you and I have unfinished business. MARGUERITE.   Marie— Could you tell my brother that I’ll be with him shortly? CHAUVELIN.   Wasn’t there something you were going to deliver to me, lest I throw a wrench into this sudden romance of yours?

Some important context: this scene takes place right after the opening number, where Marguerite announces that she's marrying Percy, much to Chauvelin's dismay. Here, it not only explicitly establishes jealousy being Chauvelin's main motive for wanting the note from Marguerite, but it also immediately victimizes and strips her of any autonomy she may have had. She is no longer denouncing St. Cyr because she wants him to see justice, no matter the cost, but because she is being blackmailed by the prospect of her former relationship being outed, which is another level of Wildhorn-typical misogynistic writing that I cannot even begin to scratch the surface of here.

Futhermore, immediately after she hands him the note, he says this:

MARGUERITE. I wish never to see you again. CHAUVELIN. Alas, I cannot return the sentiment, as I do wish to see you again.

The musical's St. Cyr conflict's only purpose for existing is to be the catalyst for the estrangement between Percy and Marguerite, and to establish the 'love triangle' between the three leads.¹ The audience is not given a reason for why St. Cyr is a person of interest for the authorities, nor is Marguerite's motive or reasoning for having the incriminating note to begin with. Overall, there is a general disregard for Marguerite and her character arc as a whole when it comes to the musical's writing: Armand being thrashed is never entertained by the musical, and her is merely treated as a prop and a plot-device. Her purpose is being the 'love interest' and the damsel in distress and nothing else, and with Percy being made the protagonist of the musical, she gets pushed to the sidelines.

1. Nan Knighton's commentary also corroborates this disregard for Marguerite and her story, writing “she's not only capable of spying for Chauvelin but also finds herself still magnetically attracted to a man she hates” as one of the main takeaways from her character and the St. Cyr situation as a whole. Also notable: “she's guilty of never having been fully honest to Percy,”¹ a line fine on its own, but it falls apart when you factor in the musical adding in Chauvelin's initial blackmail and Percy quickly shunning her, never allowing her to have a voice or any real weight in the story.

Now, onto scene two. The garden scene in act one is the only other time where St. Cyr is mentioned in much depth. Chauvelin visits the Blakeney estate to speak with Marguerite and proposition her with catching the Pimpernel. She rebuffs him, and it is here where St. Cyr is initially brought up:

MARGUERITE. Chauvelin, what in God's name are you doing here? CHAUVELIN. I have just arrived in England, my lady. What could be more natural than to pay a visit to an old friend? MARGUERITE. You are no friend of mine, Chauvelin. You lied to me! CHAUVELIN. Ah yes, that poor man you denounced, St. Cyr. Robespierre made the decision to execute. What could I do? MARGUERITE. Do you think I would have given you that note had I known you'd kill the man? ² I'll have that family's blood on my hands as long as I live...

+

CHAUVELIN. Oh, Marguerite, shall we dispense with the indignation? You, also, are quite the clever spy, and I suggest you return to that occupation or there may be... trouble. Perhaps, in your marriage? MARGUERITE. Blackmail again, Chauvelin?

St. Cyr here is used as Chauvelin's 'gotcha' moment here, and he's constantly using that rhetoric and his previous threats of revealing their previous relationship to force Marguerite into unmasking the Pimpernel. There's no real tension that comes from this conflict or the blackmail because of how the musical portrays the St. Cyr denunciation as being something she was coerced into and because of her lack of agency overall. The guilt she feels here never comes up again, and all of the potential for St. Cyr to hold any weight in the story is completely thrown out the window because the musical wants to focus on the love triangle that adds nothing to the story. By changing how one event plays out, Nan Knighton and Frank Wildhorn have revealed how they feel about Marguerite's original story arc and her role in the story as a whole, completely stripping her of any autonomy and continuously victimizing her.

2. Funnily enough, this line directly contradicts a line that is present in the theatre scene. When handing the note to Chauvelin, Marguerite tries to make him swear that he will not execute the St. Cyrs, to which he says “no.” He doesn't lie to her in any way. Now, granted, this line was written for the first version of the show, and the theatre scene was only added after the show underwent revisions, but it's still a bit baffling that this implies that either Nan Knighton didn't care enough for continuity, or that Chauvelin is very blatantly gaslighting her here. In reality, it's probably a mix of both.

So, what are we meant to take from this? That, while the circumstances and her motives for St. Cyr's denunciation were complicated, Marguerite having autonomy in this situation is the aspect that must remain constant, and by stripping her agency, it alters a crucial part of her character that is foundational to her motives throughout the novel.

i. And We All Have So Many Faces...: Marguerite, as Described by Others.

Before talking directly about how Marguerite views her identity in her own narrative, something that is important to me when discussing this topic is how other characters within the narrative perceive her. The perception of Marguerite by other characters in the novel exemplifies a broader pattern seen throughout the novel—that the implicit biases that many characters have for Marguerite define who she is, particularly during the early sections of the narrative.

When we are first introduced to Marguerite in the novel, we are thrown in media res in her story. Through other characters’ discussions and exposition given, we learn that Marguerite was originally a Frenchwoman, a greatly beloved and acclaimed actress—the lead actress of the national theatre, the Comédie-Française, at that—and, most importantly, she was a Republican who supported the ideals of the revolution, though her exact involvement up in the revolution is left ambiguous. Her first mention from the Comtesse de Tournay during one of the Fisherman’s Rest chapters is particularly of note:

“Ah, yes,” added the Comtesse, whilst a look of haughty disdain and intense bitterness shot through her melancholy eyes. “There was that woman, Marguerite St. Just, for instance. She denounced the Marquis de St. Cyr and all his family to the awful tribunal of the Terror.” “Marguerite St. Just?” said Lord Antony, as he shot a quick and apprehensive glance across at Sir Andrew. “Marguerite St. Just?—Surely . . .” “Yes!” replied the Comtesse, “surely you know her. She was a leading actress of the Comédie Française, and she married an Englishman lately. You must know her—” “Know her?” said Lord Antony. “Know Lady Blakeney—the most fashionable woman in London—the wife of the richest man in England? Of course, we all know Lady Blakeney.” “She was a school-fellow of mine at the convent in Paris,” interposed Suzanne, “and we came over to England together to learn your language. I was very fond of Marguerite, and I cannot believe that she ever did anything so wicked.” –––     CH IV,  THE LEAGUE OF THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL.

Already, before the reader has even met her, we are given three drastically different perceptions of Marguerite’s character, all of which influences these characters’ interactions with her later on in the novel, as well as their overall dispositions and beliefs throughout the novel. That being:

The Comtesse de Tournay’s disgust for the revolution and its associates, so much so that in this same chapter she wishes that “while [she] remain[s] in this beautiful country, [she] may never meet Marguerite St. Just.” Later on, when Marguerite enters the Fisherman’s Rest, the Comtesse is outwardly aggressive to her and shuns her before leaving. 

Sir Andrew, despite being one of Sir Percy’s closest friends, still does not know Marguerite very well. His perception and opinion of her at this point in time is based only on the word of others, and while he does not antagonize Marguerite, he does cast doubt over her and her intentions with the Pimpernel specifically, exemplified when she asks for his help later on in the novel.

Suzanne, being Marguerite’s closest friend and having known her the longest, is the only one who believes in her innocence among the group present at the Fisherman’s Rest. Seeing the good in her friend and still holding onto so much love for her, she overlooks Marguerite’s more unpleasant qualities and, having refused to entertain that her close friend could have possibly done something as horrible as sending an entire family to their deaths, paints an unrealistically flawless picture of her.

Out of the three, Sir Andrew’s is the most accurate picture of Marguerite that is presented to the reader at this point in time, however, many crucial details are still left out and the picture that is painted is fuzzy at best. Even when she enters the narrative and fully becomes the novel’s protagonist, the biases of other characters still hold precedence over the reader’s perception of Marguerite; she is gawked at by theatre-goers during the opera, ‘admired’ at Lord Grenville’s ball, and is met with aggression at both the Fisherman’s Rest at the beginning of the novel and Calais upon her return to France at the climax. Everywhere she goes she is heavily scrutinized, and especially during the ball, it becomes suffocating.

The character whose biases ultimately hold the most weight in the narrative is Percy’s, given that the entire foundation of their marriage is built upon the perceived “betrayal” on both sides that began their estrangement. Percy believes that, up until the climax of the novel, Marguerite denounced the Marquis de St. Cyr for malicious reasons. Unaware of the context or the manipulation she endured during the ordeal, he is cold and distant to her, in part due to his dual identity as the Scarlet Pimpernel and the hurt he feels from having been “duped” by her.

“With what object, I pray you, Madame?” he asked coldly. “I do not understand you.” “Yet ’tis simple enough,” he said with sudden bitterness, which seemed literally to surge through his words, though he was making visible efforts to suppress it, “I humbly put the question to you, for my slow wits are unable to grasp the cause of this, your ladyship’s sudden new mood. Is it that you have the taste to renew the devilish sport which you played so successfully last year? Do you wish to see me once more a love-sick suppliant at your feet, so that you might again have the pleasure of kicking me aside, like a troublesome lap-dog?” –––     CH XVI,  RICHMOND.

This line in particular exemplifies the ramifications of their estrangement and the “betrayal” from St. Cyr on their relationship. Percy and Marguerite have both become so distant and cruel to each other that he no longer believes that the love she harbors for him is real, and perhaps he even doubts if it was ever real at all, describing their love as “the shrine, which contained my one illusion, [which] lay shattered to earth at [his] feet.” That’s not to say that Percy no longer loves her—Orczy emphasizes that his love for her never waned despite the estrangement—however, the two of them have become so distant and have misunderstood each other so much that he simply does not know what else to believe.

The “Richmond” chapter in general falls in a really interesting spot in the narrative; the reader has followed Marguerite and has gotten to know her more intimately, however, she is still concealing many of her true feelings from the reader. Percy’s direct confrontation, while discomforting and distressing, is ultimately what breaks the carefully crafted performance that she has cultivated up until this point, forcing her to confront all of her suppressed emotions head on. Here, she is forced to be wholly honest with both him and the reader for the first time, opening the path for her to grow and begin to reclaim her identity.

ii. ... The Real Self Often Erases: Marguerite St. Just versus Lady Blakeney.

Marguerite’s entrance marks the start of the main narrative within the novel; in quick succession, her relationships with Percy and her brother Armand are established, Chauvelin blackmails her, and eventually, she makes the decision to go to France on her own to rescue Percy before Chauvelin can capture him. Throughout all of this, the novel makes a clear distinction between the two ‘faces’ of Marguerite’s identity—or, in other words, clearly defines a split between who she is as Marguerite St. Just and who she is as Lady Blakeney. This split, however, has far deeper roots than just being a role she performs for the London public, going back to her days as an actress at the Comédie-Française.

Little is given about Marguerite’s early life, though the novel does reveal a few things: following her parents’ death, her older brother, Armand, was her only (pseudo) parental figure, she grew up and was educated in a convent before gaining prominence as an actress when she was “scarcely eighteen.”

There are two things of note here:

Marguerite’s age, being extremely young when she was first thrust into the spotlight and the public eye. 

The quick succession of events—how it seems that right after she left the convent, she finds almost instantaneous success as an actress.

Not only was Marguerite still a teenager when she gained success as an actress, but the suddenness of it all must have made the experience incredibly disorienting at first. After all, before this she had a relatively sheltered life, and she was not equipped with the necessary tools to handle all of the newfound attention, admiration, and objectification she would receive and endure, particularly from men, due to her being both a pretty and clever girl. These factors would be what initially causes this split in identity between the normal girl and the actress—Marguerite St. Just and “the cleverest woman in Europe.”

“There was a something — an elusiveness — which seemed like an integral part of her personality; a something which attracted irresistibly both men and women from every class and walk of life — rich man, poor man, aristocrat and plebeian. She seemed to live a life that was aloof, indifferent to the flattery of her admirers, disdaining their offers of friendship, of love and of luxury: but she allowed them to dance attendance upon her and suffered the attentions of all comers with unfailing courtesy and good humour. She never refused entrance to her house to an artist or an intellectual; she showed no personal feelings towards any of her visitors, with the result that many came anxious to prove the depths of this mysterious personality. Many also strayed away from her orbit after a time, for she was not effusive enough towards the “butterflies” who made a habit of fluttering round any personage of note; she certainly never counted the good-will of those who had only great names or well-filled purses to recommend them. She became a law unto herself and there the matter rested.” –––     THE LIFE AND EXPLOITS OF THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL.

The wording of this particular passage from a fictional biography Baroness Orczy wrote following the original novel’s publication is particularly of note when it comes to how the public perceived the young and newly famous Marguerite St. Just. The performance had yet to be perfected, and there were still several cracks which broke the illusion of her being this perfect, untouchable being. While her aloofness and mystique were enchanting at first, they would soon grow old. Marguerite harbors a deep desire to be liked, and her early days with fame and her experiences with the fickleness of the public eye cause her to learn that, if she does not give the public what they want, they will ultimately turn on her. So, she continues to perform, having internalized that a sudden change in public opinion would spell almost certain social death for her. Eventually, as the years go on, what is a performance and what is not becomes indistinguishable, and soon, her solitude becomes her sanctuary.

“Once outside the noisy coffee-room, alone in the dimly-lighted passage, Marguerite Blakeney seemed to breathe more freely. She heaved a deep sigh, like one who had long been oppressed with the heavy weight of constant self-control, and she allowed a few tears to fall unheeded down her cheeks.” –––     CH VII,  THE SECRET ORCHARD.

Something of note is that despite Marguerite being this beloved and supposedly influential figure in London society, she isn’t shown to have many companions or friends. She reunites briefly with her childhood friend, Suzanne, before the Comtesse de Tournay splits them apart (though they do have a chapter together later on in the novel). This is really her only interaction with any confidant throughout the entire novel, and her loneliness and isolation from the wider public in London is indicative of something larger; in wanting to be liked and accepted in the public eye, she is unable to make any meaningful connections with people within those circles. She is objectified due to her beauty, treated as something inhuman—as both “the cleverest woman in Europe” and as Lady Blakeney—and scrutinized when she is not ‘perfect,’ and she is only sought out when she is useful to those around her. Later on, she grows to be distrustful of others and their intentions, firmly believing that the only person she can rely on is herself.

All of this has ramifications on her character arc throughout the novel, as it is one of the many factors that initially prevent her from ‘maturing’ and growing as a person. Marguerite has never been given the room to grow into her own person; she feels lost and detached from herself, and she still exhibits many ‘childish’ character traits that she has been unable to grow out of because she has spent most of her life in the public eye. As Armand notes, she was “a girl in all but name,” and her stagnation in maturity goes hand in hand with her lack of autonomy throughout the novel, most notably with St. Cyr and Chauvelin’s blackmail.

“Now Lady Blakeney had suddenly ceased to exist. It was Marguerite St. Just who was there only: Marguerite St. Just who had passed her childhood, her early youth, in the protecting arms of her brother Armand. She had forgotten everything else—her rank, her dignity, her secret enthusiasms—everything save that Armand stood in peril of his life, and that there, not twenty feet away from her, in the small boudoir which was quite deserted, in the very hands of Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, might be the talisman which would save her brother’s life.” –––     CH. XII, THE SCRAP OF PAPER.

One of the aspects of the novel that is rarely discussed, particularly when it comes to identity within the novel, is this idea of “bridging the gap” between two different worlds. Orczy makes a clear distinction throughout the novel between France and Britain—the proper and heroic British juxtaposed by the bloodthirsty and ruthless French—giving the reader a clear hero and enemy with complimenting, yet opposing morals, to follow throughout the narrative. Percy and Chauvelin almost perfectly embody these archetypes that Orczy has defined, laying the foundation for their cat and mouse chase throughout the original novel and its subsequent sequels.

Marguerite, on the other hand, is another story. A common thread throughout most of her character traits is that she does not fit within these singular, strictly defined archetypes, and that is no different here. She’s in this “in-between” area between the French and the English. This aspect of her identity as a character serves as a source of conflict—both internal and external—and puts her in an interesting, yet important place within the narrative; serving as the bridge between the British and the French. She’s a republican and maintains her belief in the philosophical foundation of the French Revolution as a Frenchwoman, while her disgust with the bloodshed in Paris and her immense pride seem to align more with her English self. Her heritage in France and her current residence in England is the most explicit presentation of this aspect of her character, with her sailing back to France during the climax being her ‘bridging the gap’ between these two different parts of her identity.

“Marguerite had listened to Chauvelin’s impassioned speech without uttering a word, scarce making a movement, hardly daring to breathe. She had told him before that this mysterious hero of romance was the talk of the smart set to which she belonged; already, before this, her heart and her imagination had been stirred by the thought of the brave man, who, unknown to fame, had rescued hundreds of lives from a terrible, often an unmerciful fate.  (...) Then, when first she heard of this band of young English enthusiasts, who, for sheer love of their fellow-men, dragged women and children, old and young men, from a horrible death, her heart had glowed with pride for them, and now, as Chauvelin spoke, her very soul went out to the gallant and mysterious leader of the reckless little band, who risked his life daily, who gave it freely and without ostentation, for the sake of humanity. (...)  her thoughts had gone wandering in search of the mysterious hero! Ah! there was a man she might have loved, had he come her way: everything in him appealed to her romantic imagination; his personality, his strength, his bravery, the loyalty of those who served under him in the same noble cause, and, above all, that anonymity which crowned him, as if with a halo of romantic glory.” –––     CH VIII, THE ACCREDITED AGENT.

Orczy portrays Marguerite as being wholly in love with the Pimpernel, and while I believe some of that to be true, it’s more complicated than that. Marguerite’s idolization of the Pimpernel stems from what he represents—heroism and nobility, of course, but most importantly, freedom. Disillusioned with her life in England, she clings to the Pimpernel as escapism, and in a sense, she not only idolizes but also envies him for his freedom and how his anonymity and mystique allows him to remain untouched by the public eye that has eaten her alive. When the illusion of the Pimpernel as a perfect hero is eventually shattered and he is revealed to be Percy, she has nothing left to believe in. With her only solace gone, she is forced to confront reality.

The novel ends with the reconciliation of Percy and Marguerite and the mending of their relationship, however, the climax of the novel is also Marguerite’s reconciliation with her own identity. Throughout the novel, she is portrayed as being a fatalist, and her fatalism heavily hinders both her ability to grow and her course of action, especially during the ball. Marguerite does not change because she does not want to change, but because she believes that she cannot due to fate’s predetermination—she is simply a pawn in the grand scheme of life. In the end, however, she ultimately ends up taking her fate into her own hands, taking back the autonomy—and identity—she had been stripped of for a majority of the novel. No longer is she defined solely by public opinion, nor does she live solely for society any longer. Finally, she is able to breathe freely.

iii. Closing Words.

In the many years following the novel’s original publication, adaptations have adjusted Marguerite’s character and her role in the narrative for better or for worse. While the 1934 film keeps her character mostly intact, both the 1982 film and the 1997 musical effectively strip her of her identity and autonomy, discarding her desperation to save her brother for a cheap love triangle between her, Percy, and Chauvelin. When it comes to the musical specifically, Marguerite is a character defined entirely by her sexuality. She is objectified and treated as a purely sexual being and is forced into uncomfortable situations for the sake of fanservice, all of which is a disservice to the Marguerite of the novel. 

A response written by musical’s lyricist, Nan Knighton, however, is particularly noteworthy: 

“She is the most ambiguous character in the show. In fact, she is changing throughout. She is an actress – already a chameleon who can transform herself into any role. She was an active revolutionary who now questions it all. She was anti-aristocracy and finds herself falling in love with a British aristocrat. When Percy stops trusting her and becomes cold and foppish, she questions her very love for him [in "When I Look At You”] … Marguerite’s changing feelings continue throughout to the point that she revs herself up to go back to France and fight for her brother. She is full of disguise and confusion and ultimately desperation about Armand. She is often forced to masquerade herself and sometimes she just does this by instinct. Probably the most essential ambiguity to Marguerite is the fact that both she and Chauvelin remember who she used to be … There is still a wantonness and a wildness deep inside her, but she is growing up becoming a different person via being loved by Percy and sensing the goodness and bravery in his heart. …The bottom line is that she is a very confused woman whom we watch grow and change into the Marguerite who stands beside Percy at the end of the show..”

In the end, Marguerite’s arc throughout the narrative is about reclaiming her identity and autonomy. Having been stripped of both things at a young age, the journey is tumultuous and far from pretty. However, she ultimately changes for the better, allowing herself to grow into maturity as both sides of the split—Marguerite St. Just and Lady Blakeney—are able to co-exist, no longer defined by the perceptions of respectable society.

Marguerite St. Just had always been a particularly imaginative girl. Growing up with very little friends, she often turned to stories and folk legends for comfort whenever she had the chance. In particular, she loved the tales of brave heroes slaying foes and rescuing the innocents in distress. It instilled within her hope and admiration, knowing that there were people who were willing to stand up against the evil in the world and ultimately pave the way for a better future. One day, she hoped that she could do the same.

As the revolution began and tensions began to arise, however, the world as she knew it would shatter right before her eyes. Her involvement in the Marquis de St. Cyr's death shakes her to her core, and for a while, she is unable to process what has happened, shocked and horrified that she could be capable of something so heinous. Inspired by the stories of her childhood and her desire to repent for her wrongdoing, she decides to take on the mantra of the Scarlet Pimpernel, a vigilante who rescues innocents from the guillotine. Moonlighting as a vigilante whilst maintaining her public appearances during the day, she finds vigilantism to be particularly fulfilling. The Pimpernel gives her a sense of purpose, more so than her career as an actress ever had, and she hopes that it will be enough to outweigh the 'evil' she's done from St. Cyr's death. Still, Paris is a volatile place, and the people are becoming more paranoid by the day, and as such, she tells no one besides her older brother, Armand, about her dual identity, isolating herself from the people closest to her and dedicating herself entirely to vigilantism.

Things are only content for so long, however. The city is becoming more bloody, and the Pimpernel begins to drain her more than it fulfills her. This is only amplified with the decay of her relationship with Armand Chauvelin, who had once been so close to her that she had considered him her brother, and her new husband, Sir Percy Blakeney, discovering her involvement in the Marquis' death, causing a rift between them. Devastated by her newfound happiness being suddenly ripped from her, the role of the Pimpernel shifts. She becomes more reckless, her plans become far more ambitious and larger than life, making sure to put on a show for the masses who so often gawked at any sighting or mention of the elusive phantom. Her clashes with guards becomes commonplace, and oftentimes, she barely makes it out alive. In her absence, Sir Percy must cover for his wife's frequent absences, all while she continues to isolate and push the people she loves away. All of this is inconsequential to her, however: as long as she's ultimately doing good, it doesn't matter that she's hurting herself.

Her brother's capture in autumn of the following year, however, is ultimately when her recklessness finally catches up to her. Following a massive argument with Armand in Dover, she later learns of his arrest through a hastily written letter he had managed to send whilst in prison. A reunion with Chauvelin and her husband's eventual involvement in the mission ultimately leads her to reconsider everything: did she truly become the Pimpernel for selfless reasons? Was it always for the greater good, or was it just for her ego — so she could finally become the hero she had admired as a girl? What was the point in trying to reach some unattainable ideal of perfection and moral goodness, anyway?

CURRENTLY: Marguerite is grappling with the events of the novel and her role as the Pimpernel. With her relationship with Percy needing to be mended and Armand being put out of commission for a while, she is ultimately rediscovering what heroism and goodness mean to her, and whether all of this was worth it in the first place. Primarily focuses on morality, identity, and if the ends justify the means. Open to interactions in this verse, but plotting is heavily encouraged. Notes and other/misc details below.

Marguerite does not have a league or any other kind of formal team like Percy does. The only person she involves in her missions is Armand, and when he's out of the picture, it is an entirely solo endeavor. While she does allow for others, such as her friend Suzanne, to assist her in future missions, no formal 'League of the Scarlet Pimpernel' is ever formed.

Following the end of the Reign of Terror, Marguerite feels incredibly lost. While for Percy in canonical verses, his restlessness is rooted in his desire for adventure, Margot's is moreso rooted in regret. She didn't do enough, she should have tried harder, and is she still going to hell after all of this? While these doubts and regrets permeate throughout her entire time as the Pimpernel, they are particularly palpable here.

Sticking in line with Orczy's original portrayal, Marguerite's Pimpernel is incredibly elusive, almost phantomlike. She prefers to work more discreetly, meticulously planning things out in the shadows until she is ready to put her plan into action (the whole 'master of disguise' thing also helps with this). In modern eras, this manifests in there being rarely any photographic evidence of the Pimpernel's existence, being known only from word of mouth and from the symbol she leaves at every place she's been — the red pimpernel flower.

On that note, Marguerite in modern eras does not wear a mask. She essentially solely relies on the lack of photographic evidence to keep her identity a secret, and there's only so much her hat can obscure in the shadows. If someone were to get a glimpse of her face, it would be incredibly easy to put two and two together; having Marguerite show her face willingly as the Pimpernel is the ultimate sign of trust.

Marguerite is terrible at navigating team settings. She wholeheartedly believes that her vigilantism is a burden she must carry alone, priding herself on the work she does (despite her massive savior and martyr complex). She's incredibly skeptical of others, and she doesn't really have a strict moral code: simply put, she'll do whatever it takes to achieve her goals as long as they help benefit what she believes to be the greater good. As such, she's more of a neutral ally, working either with or for the person she's encountering depending on the scenario. Her unclear motivations and aloof demeanor make her come off as being incredibly suspicious, but she is well-intentioned at heart.

Marguerite is an excellent swordswoman. This never really comes up in her canon period, however, in modern verses her preferred weapon is a fencing rapier, which she keeps tucked in a sheath attached to her hip.