Elizabeth von Arnim's The Enchanted April is a lovely, enchanting story of how lives can be transformed. It's an absolutely charming novel that ranks up there for me with the likes of 84 Charing Cross Road or any of Helene Hanff's novels for that matter. There aren't many books that I regard as simply delightful with no quibbles in terms of character or plot. I can do so easily in this case. It's a pure and unadulterated comfort read of the very best kind. Have I effused enough?
Published in 1922, the novel is set in part in post-WWI London, but mainly in a medieval castle on the Italian Riviera. I know I've already quoted this, but to put you in the right mind frame, the story begins:
"It began in a woman's club in London on a February afternoon,--an uncomfortable club, and a miserable afternoon--when Mrs. Wilkins, who had come down from Hampstead to shop and had lunched at her club, took up The Times from the table in the smoking-room, and running her listless eye down the Agony Column saw this:
To Those who Appreciate Wistaria and Sunshine. Small mediavel Italian Castle on the shores of the Mediterranean to be Let Furnished for the month of April. Necessary servants remain. Z, Box 100, The Times.
That was its conception; yet, as in the case of many another, the conceiver was unaware of it at the moment."
Lotty Wilkins reads this ad and feels instantly inspired by it. Who wouldn't, living in dreary, cold London and being married to an unappreciative Mellersh who expects everything just so. Unfortunately Lotty doesn't seem to get everything just so. Mellersh is disappointed in his wife, when he had thought he made such a good choice. Imagine how Lotty must feel. Lotty is only slightly acquainted with Rose Arbuthnot through her church, but when she sees her in her club, she presents the idea to her of taking the castle for the month of April. You see, Rose had been looking at the same ad. Lotty can see them there. They can split the cost and get away from dreary London and from dreary husbands.
Rose has her own problems, however. Middle aged and childless, she's estranged from her husband, Frederick. Although they loved each other once, Rose is offended by the novels Frederick pens under an assumed name. Racy historical novels about the kings and queens of England that earn him much money, but embarrass Rose by their improprieties. Rose is nothing if not proper. She works quite closely with her church helping the poor. God, Husband, Home and Duty are the four great facts of her life. Although Frederick could easily and would happily give her money for a vacation, she cannot imagine spending it on something so frivolous as a month in Italy, no matter how tempting it might be. Besides he wouldn't care, he doesn't care what she does.
In the end they advertise for other like minded ladies to split expenses with them. One of my favorite scenes in the book is when Lotty and Rose go to meet Mrs. Fisher, an elderly dowager, who's answered their ad. She's of an older generation, very Victorian and correct in her manners. She's of an age where it's more comfortable looking back at her life filled with the "illustrious Victorian dead" rather than forward. As a child her home had been frequented by anyone who was anyone in arts and letters, on occasion the famous might even pull her pigtails. Lotty is a sweet, genuine person, but definitely marches to the sound of her own drummer. Mrs. Fisher doesn't know what to make of Lotty Wilkins.
"Who lived at Box Hill?" interrupted Mrs. Wilkins, who hung on Mrs. Fisher's reminiscences, intensely excited by meeting somebody who had actually been familiar with all the really and truly and undoubtedly great–actually seen them, heard them talking, touched them.
Mrs. Fisher looked at her over the top of her glasses in some surprise. Mrs. Wilkins, in her eagerness to tear the heart out quickly of Mrs. Fisher's reminiscences, afraid that at any moment Mrs. Arbuthnot would take her away and she wouldn't have heard half, had already interrupted several times with questions which appeared ignorant to Mrs. Fisher.
"Meredith of course," said Mrs. Fisher rather shortly. "I remember a particular week-end"–she continued. "My father often took me, but I always remember this week-end particularly–"
"Did you know Keats?" eagerly interrupted Mrs. Wilkins.
Mrs. Fisher, after a pause, said with sub-acid reserve that she had been unacquainted with both Keats and Shakespeare.
"Oh of course–how ridiculous of me!" cried Mrs. Wilkins, flushing scarlet. "It's because"–she floundered–"it's because the immortals somehow still seem alive, don't they–as if they were here, going to walk into the room in another minute–and one forgets they are dead. In fact one knows perfectly well they're not dead–not nearly so dead as you and I even now," she assured Mrs. Fisher, who observed her over the top of her glasses."
"I thought I saw Keats the other day," Mrs. Wilkins incoherently proceeded, driven on by Mrs. Fisher's look over the top of her glasses. "In Hampstead–crossing the road in front of that house–you know–the house where he lived–"
Mrs. Arbuthnot said they must be going.
Mrs. Fisher did nothing to prevent them.
"I really thought I saw him," protested Mrs. Wilkins, appealing for belief first to one and then to the other while waves of colour passed over her face, and totally unable to stop because of Mrs. Fisher's glasses and the steady eyes looking at her over their tops. "I believe I did see him–he was dressed in a–"
Mrs. Fisher agrees to be part of the party, despite her concerns about Lotty's stability. She'd like to get away and reminisce over her long life.
Lady Caroline Dester fills out the foursome. Lady Caroline is lovely. Very rich and very lovely. Everyone sees only her beauty, but she feels quite churlish inside. Somehow her inner feelings never seem to equate with her outward appearance. Lady Caroline's countenance is always serene no matter what she feels inside. She wants to escape to San Salvatore to get a rest from the grabbers in London. Men especially always seem to want to corner her and she just wants time to think about her life, which she feels is empty and devoid of meaning.
The four women come together in Italy, and it's gorgeous, and warm and tranquil. The flowers are in bloom, and the view is of a perfect, deep blue sea. Somehow it's magical and their lives begin to change and transform. This is an utterly lovely book. It sounds almost too good to be true, doesn't it? But it didn't seem at all saccharine or over the top. Von Arnim infuses the story with just enough unselfconscious humor to keep it nice and grounded. This is definitely one for a rainy day (or any time you need a nice comfortable book to escape into). You can even read it online, but do try and read this one!