Elizabeth von Arnim’s The Enchanted April is a novel that captures the transformative power of beauty, companionship, and escape. Set in the early 20th century, it tells the story of four English women who, each burdened by their own personal struggles, come together to rent a medieval castle in Italy for the month of April. What begins as a whimsical idea sparked by a newspaper advertisement blossoms into a profound experience that reshapes their lives. Through its vivid characters and lush descriptions, the novel explores themes of longing, renewal, and the unexpected ways in which human connection can heal.
The story opens in a dreary London women’s club on a rainy February afternoon. Mrs. Wilkins, a timid and overlooked wife, stumbles upon an advertisement in The Times offering a small Italian castle for rent, complete with “wistaria and sunshine.” The words leap off the page, igniting a spark of yearning in her. She is a woman stifled by thrift and a controlling husband, Mellersh, who values her savings more than her happiness. Her life is one of quiet desperation, marked by modest clothes and a negligible presence at social gatherings. Yet, the advertisement speaks to her soul, promising a world she can scarcely imagine.
Across the room sits Mrs. Arbuthnot, a woman of duty and restraint, who also notices the ad. She is older, calmer, and deeply religious, her life shaped by a marriage to Frederick, a writer of scandalous memoirs about royal mistresses. The proceeds of his work fund her charitable efforts, but they also weigh on her conscience, a constant reminder of her moral compromise. Like Mrs. Wilkins, she feels trapped-by her husband’s detachment, by her obligations, and by the loss of a child that left her emotionally adrift. The castle represents a tantalizing possibility, though her practicality initially resists it.
Their meeting is tentative but pivotal. Mrs. Wilkins, emboldened by a rare surge of courage, asks Mrs. Arbuthnot if she too is reading the ad. This small act of connection sets the wheels in motion. Despite their differences-Mrs. Wilkins’s impulsive enthusiasm versus Mrs. Arbuthnot’s measured caution-they share a mutual sense of discontent. The idea of renting the castle together takes root, driven by Mrs. Wilkins’s infectious belief that “if one considers hard enough one gets things.” To manage the steep £60 rent, they decide to advertise for two more women to join them, reducing the financial strain on their modest savings.
Enter Lady Caroline Dester and Mrs. Fisher, the two women who respond. Lady Caroline, known as Scrap, is a stunning young aristocrat weary of her beauty and the constant attention it attracts. She craves solitude, a respite from the men who pursue her and the society that defines her by her looks. Mrs. Fisher, an elderly widow, is rigid and nostalgic, clinging to memories of her Victorian literary circle-figures like Ruskin and Tennyson—while shunning the present. Each woman brings her own baggage, literal and figurative, to San Salvatore, the castle’s evocative name.
The Italian setting is more than a backdrop; it’s a catalyst. Von Arnim paints it with a painter’s eye: wisteria cascading over ancient walls, the sea lapping at sun-warmed rocks, and gardens bursting with fragrance. This beauty works its magic slowly but surely. Mrs. Wilkins, nicknamed Lotty, sheds her timidity almost immediately, declaring San Salvatore a “tub of love.” Her optimism proves contagious. She sees the potential for happiness in everyone, even predicting that her husband, Mellersh, might join her and soften under the castle’s spell.
Mrs. Arbuthnot, or Rose, takes longer to thaw. Her guilt over spending her “nest-egg”-money she intended for the poor-battles with her growing delight in the surroundings. Yet, the arrival of Frederick, her husband, marks a turning point. Unbeknownst to her, he has come not for her but to pursue Lady Caroline, whom he knows as Mr. Arundel, his pen name. Their reunion is a shock, but Rose’s warmth and forgiveness melt years of estrangement. In a tender scene under the moonlight, they rediscover the love they once shared, a testament to the novel’s faith in second chances.
Lady Caroline’s journey is subtler. Initially aloof, she resists the castle’s charm and the attentions of Mr. Briggs, the young owner smitten by her beauty. Briggs, an artist with an “effervescent temperament,” sees her as a Madonna, a vision of perfection. Scrap, however, is tired of being a muse. It’s only as she observes the others-Lotty’s joy, Rose’s reconciliation, and even Mrs. Fisher’s gradual softening-that she begins to reconsider her isolation. By the novel’s end, she extends kindness to Briggs, hinting at a shift from cynicism to openness.
Mrs. Fisher’s transformation is perhaps the most surprising. She arrives clutching her cane and her memories, determined to maintain her dignity. But the warmth of the group, especially Lotty’s impulsive affection, cracks her reserve. A poignant moment occurs when she imagines Lotty as the daughter she never had, a living connection to replace her “great dead friends.” By the final week, as acacias bloom and the garden fills with white flowers, she too is woven into the fabric of this unlikely community.
The men, too, are touched by San Salvatore’s magic. Mellersh, initially furious at Lotty’s expenditure, arrives to chastise her but ends up charmed-both by the place and by his wife’s newfound assertiveness. Frederick, caught between his pursuit of Scrap and his rekindled love for Rose, finds clarity in the garden’s stillness. Even Briggs, though departing alone, is enriched by the experience, his adoration tempered by Scrap’s gentle rebuff.
What makes The Enchanted April enduring is its quiet optimism. Von Arnim doesn’t shy away from the characters’ flaws-Lotty’s impulsiveness, Rose’s rigidity, Scrap’s detachment, Mrs. Fisher’s aloofness—but she shows how these can coexist with growth. The novel suggests that happiness isn’t a destination but a process, often sparked by a change of scenery and the courage to reach out. The castle isn’t a cure-all; it’s a mirror reflecting what’s possible when people step outside their routines.
The closing image-of the group leaving San Salvatore, the scent of acacias lingering as they descend the hill—captures this beautifully. They return to England not as the same women who left, but as versions of themselves enriched by beauty and each other. Von Arnim’s prose, with its wry humor and lyrical flourishes, underscores this shift, making The Enchanted April a celebration of the small, brave choices that lead to profound change. It’s a reminder that even in the dreariest February, an April of enchantment might be just a decision away.
Credit to Elizabeth von Arnim, whose enchanting novel The Enchanted April, first published in 1922, inspired this exploration of transformation and joy.
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