Who was that not quite masked man?!

I have a weakness for "masked men" literature, or media in general. Is this the moment Lois realizes Clark is Superman? Will the police put another warrant out for the arrest of the Green Hornet, not knowing he is really publisher Brit Reed? Where does Peter Parker get his outfits? Will Bruce Wayne's accountants finally get suspicious when he needs even more money to retrofit the Batmobile? What does "kemosabe" mean, anyhow?

Masked men bravely defy dangers, including the worst possible fate, unmasking. All have an overarching sense of justice, plus a bit of a cruel streak as they tease the women in their lives with hints of the truth.

The granddaddy of all masked men, and my favorite by far, is Sir Percy Blakeney--The Scarlet Pimpernel. Unlike the masked crime fighters I mentioned above, Blakeney is not particularly concerned with stopping criminals; he is more akin to the mythologized figures of the French Resistance. His crusade is to rescue aristocrats imprisoned during the French Revolution's Reign of Terror.

In England, the baronet is known only as a fop, and a remarkably stupid man. He astounds the uppercrust by marrying an actress, not only an actress, but a French actress, and not only a French actress, but a supporter of the Republic. Marguerite St. Just is known as the "cleverest woman in Europe," and her alliance with the "stupidest man in England" sets tongues wagging.

But Percy had courted Marguerite under false, that is to say true, pretenses. He was himself--the brilliant mind behind many a stunning rescue from the guillotine. But Marguerite's past would catch up to her, and her support of the Revolution and the new Republic would make Percy unable to trust her with his secrets.

And this is what sets The Scarlet Pimpernel apart from most masked men. Baroness Orczy's writing is, in many cases, pure propaganda. She has an outdated and overwrought style that should be easy to mock. But her hero, though outlandish, is somehow real. Unlike Clark Kent, Blakeney seems to keep his secrets for a reason, something beyond insecurity or false pride. His life, the lives of his followers, and most importantly, the lives of those he hopes to rescue hang upon his disguise. His crusade never feels like a boy's prank; the horrors of the Revolution are too real, the cost of failure too steep.

Aside from the entire French government, the real villain of the book is a smarmy little Frenchman named Chauvelin. Orczy refrains somewhat from her delight in stereotypes when she describes Chauvelin, enabling him to be one of the more coldly devious villains in literature. His mind is good, his plan is sound, and he is defeated not through some glaring weakness but through Blakeney's cleverness. (If you have seen a film based on the novel but have not yet read the novel, the ending is entirely different.)

Despite her Revolutionary leanings, Marguerite is a sympathetic heroine. I cannot help but feel calling her the "cleverest woman" in England, let alone Europe, would be a bit of an overstatement. She recognizes Percy's duplicity long after it seems likely, and her actions upon realizing his identity seem foolish. But I can speak in retrospect.

The plot of TSP is a strong one, filled with intrigue and daring, and it is the plot, with its occasional vibrant humor, that keeps the novel afloat. As I mentioned, Orczy's style is portentious and can seem clumsy, though once you've become enmeshed in the storyline, it's easy to overlook her purple prose. Touches of prejudice can offend a modern reader, but for the turn of the century her books are remarkably open-minded.

This novel holds up remarkably well to repeated readings. If you have never before ventured into Orczy's world, be patient in the first few chapters. It may take a bit to get a handle on the story.

Orczy also wrote many sequels to her masterpiece, and though I have read a few, none can compare with the breathless adventure of the original.