E. Nesbit's John Charrington's Wedding: A Detailed Summary and a Literary Analysis
- M. Grant Kellermeyer
- Jul 2, 2018
- 9 min read
Updated: 6 days ago
Aside from “Man-Size in Marble,” none of Nesbit’s short stories has received wider circulation and acclaim than “John Charrington’s Wedding,” a perennial favorite amongst anthologies of classic ghost stories. The appeal comes – as in “Man-Size” – from Nesbit’s razor-edged taste for irony and fate. A wedding is naturally expected to be the happiest of occasions, but John Charrington’s wedding is different. It had been brought about by sheer will – his will to woo and possess the prettiest girl in town, a girl whose beauty, reputation, and coquetry have resulted in her body being regarded as a highly desired local commodity. So strong is Charrington’s desire to own the object of his affection that he musters the strength to do the impossible.
But this is no story of “love conquers all” – indeed, the conquering hero’s actual motivation is left up to debate: it might be desire, lust, pride, or sheer willpower, but love has very little to do with it. How many people, after all, have been frightened to death by love? It is a particularly chilling tale that blends some of the most time-honored tropes of Gothic folklore with poignant themes of love, fate, and the destructive consequences of obsessive desire and possessive lust. In this classic ghost story, she explores the tension between devotion and destiny, crafting an eerie atmosphere where the supernatural encroaches upon the realm of the everyday. The tale’s central motif—the power of an unbreakable vow—reflects a fascination with the mystical forces that govern human life.
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As with so many of her best stories, it reflects the cognitive dissonance of the Late Victorian Era, with its ever-present reminders of the recent, savage past and its collective urge to move and look forward in anxious denial of the horrors suffered and inflicted by their grandparents and great-grandparents – an impulse of embarrassment bordering on the neurotic. Advances in science and psychology were challenging traditional beliefs, creating a cultural landscape where the unknown became both a source of fear and fascination. Nesbit, like many of her contemporaries, was influenced by these tensions, incorporating them into her work with a sense of gothic irony. The story’s setting—rooted in the familiar world of courtship and marriage—makes the intrusion of the supernatural even more unsettling, reinforcing the idea that love and death are more closely intertwined than one might assume.
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In addition to her folkloric influences, Nesbit’s story – like so many of her best – directly reflects the literary innovations of Edgar Allan Poe and J. Sheridan Le Fanu, both of whom mastered the art of blending the macabre with psychological depth – particularly in its exploration of death, love, and the supernatural. Like Poe, Nesbit intertwines romantic devotion with eerie fatalism, portraying love as a force that transcends natural boundaries but often leads to destruction. This parallels Poe’s recurring motif of love persisting beyond death, as seen in works like “Ligeia,” “Morella,” and “House of Usher.” In both authors' tales, passion and obsession drive characters toward eerie or tragic fates, suggesting that love, when taken to an extreme, can become a source of horror rather than comfort. Similarly, her method of gradually revealing the supernatural elements aligns with Le Fanu’s preference for subtle, creeping dread rather than outright terror, climaxing with a brutal confrontation between the hapless, human prey and the relentless, supernatural pursuer. Nesbit’s distinctive style, however, remains uniquely hers—combining a seemingly light, conversational tone with an undercurrent of inexorable doom. In “John Charrington’s Wedding,” she crafts a tale that is not just a ghost story but a meditation on the perils of domineering love, making it a compelling and enduring piece of supernatural literature.
SUMMARY
The story takes place in the quiet village of Brixham, nestled in the southeastern part of England. It is a place where everyone knows everyone else, and where traditions and appearances hold great importance. Among the villagers, May Forster is widely admired for her beauty, charm, and poise—so much so that virtually every young man in Brixham is said to be captivated by her. The narrator of the story, a young man named Geoffrey, shares this sentiment. He regards May as the most beautiful and desirable woman in the entire village.
Geoffrey’s close friend, John Charrington, a determined and well-respected gentleman, has long been enamored with May. Over time, he proposes to her not once or twice, but three times. Each time, May politely declines. Yet John is not easily dissuaded. He is known for his persistence and quiet confidence, and he rarely fails to get what he sets his heart on. On the fourth attempt, something changes—May accepts his proposal. Their wedding is soon scheduled to take place in early September, with Geoffrey honored to be John’s best man.
Despite the announcement of their engagement, whispers circulate throughout the village. Many people wonder whether May truly loves John or if she merely accepted out of pressure or convenience. Even Geoffrey finds himself troubled by the thought. However, one evening in August, just before sunset, Geoffrey passes through the village churchyard and witnesses something that dispels his doubts. There, on a flat tombstone, sits May, with John lying at her feet, resting his head near her knees in a quiet, intimate moment. The tender, almost otherworldly expression on May’s face reveals her deep affection, putting Geoffrey’s concerns to rest. As he discreetly observes them, he hears John speak with quiet intensity: “My dear, I believe I should come back from the dead if you wanted me!”
Two days before the wedding, Geoffrey must leave Brixham for a short business trip to London. At the railway station, he unexpectedly sees May and John. May has come to say goodbye, while John is boarding the same train as Geoffrey. He is on his way to Peasmarch Place, a town about fifty miles away, where his godfather, Mr. Branbridge, is gravely ill. May is visibly anxious and pleads with John not to go—her unease is clear, and she seems to fear something ominous may happen. But John is resolute; he insists on visiting the dying man, feeling it is his duty, and reassures May that he will return in plenty of time for the wedding. Once the train has departed, Geoffrey asks John what he would do if Mr. Branbridge were to pass away. Without hesitation, John replies, “Alive or dead, I mean to be married on Thursday!”
Geoffrey returns to Brixham the next afternoon. Upon arrival, his sister informs him that John has not yet come back. His absence feels increasingly troubling. That night, Geoffrey visits the Charrington home, only to find that John is still away. Unable to shake a sense of unease, Geoffrey retires to bed with a heavy heart.
The following morning—wedding day—Geoffrey receives a brief note from John, asking him to meet him at the train station at three o’clock. Geoffrey then visits May at her family’s home. She tells him that Mr. Branbridge had asked John to stay another day, and that John, feeling obligated, agreed. Still, she seems unsettled, though she says little.
Three o’clock comes, and the train arrives, but John is not on it. Nor is he on the next train. With growing concern, Geoffrey gives up waiting and heads to the church. Outside, a crowd has already gathered. At first, Geoffrey assumes they are still waiting for the ceremony to begin. But Byles, the Forsters’ gardener, informs him that the wedding has already taken place. According to Byles, John Charrington arrived at the church precisely on time—but something about his appearance was deeply disturbing. He looked pale and ill, with a strange expression, and he walked into the church without so much as a word or glance to anyone:
The villagers stand expectantly outside, preparing for the couple’s grand exit. They gather rice and slippers to toss in celebration. However, when John and May emerge from the church, a stunned silence falls over the crowd. No one throws anything. The groom looks ghastly—his coat is covered in dust, his hair disheveled, a dark streak marks his forehead, and his face is unnaturally pale. May, too, appears ghostlike—still and cold, her face as pale as ivory, as if carved from stone. Even more unnerving is the sudden, inexplicable tolling of funeral bells rather than joyous wedding chimes. The bell ringers, terrified, flee the church in panic.
Following the ceremony, the bride and groom leave in a carriage bound for the Forsters’ home, where the wedding reception is to be held. Geoffrey and May’s father take a separate carriage and arrive ahead of them. When the bridal carriage finally arrives, it is met with confusion and fear—John is nowhere to be found, and May is unconscious. She is quickly carried into the house. As her bridal veil is lifted, those present are horrified to see that her face is frozen in an expression of absolute terror—and even more shocking, her hair has turned completely white.
Shortly afterward, a telegram arrives at the house. It delivers devastating news: John Charrington is dead. He died at half-past one that very afternoon, two hours before the wedding took place in Brixham. He had fallen from a dogcart while en route to the train station and was killed instantly. Geoffrey recalls with chilling clarity John’s haunting promise: “I shall be married, dead or alive!”
Whatever happened inside that carriage with May remains a mystery. She never speaks a word about it. Within a week, still consumed by the shock and horror of the experience, May dies—her tragic end adding a final, sorrowful note to this eerie and unforgettable tale.ak.
ANALYSIS
The problem – or one of the problems – with interpreting John Charrington as a Wuthering Heights-type love story (one where fanatical love is capable of reaching beyond the grave) is the manner of May’s gruesome death. She is not found peacefully slumped over her husband’s seat as if she had been laying her head in his lap, or with the blush of life lingering on her cold cheeks, with the sweetest smile on her pale lips. Her springlike personality, so aptly indicated by her name, is drained dry, leaving behind a white-haired, bloodless shell hollowed out by terror. Was it the fear of death or ghosts which killed her?
Or was it the horror of how strong John’s fanaticism was? That he would be so desperate to show off his conquest to the village, that he would overcome death to prove his friends wrong, and – worse of all – that he would be so obsessed with owning her that he would drag her to death with him in order to seal their promised covenant – more so than a simple fear of revenants, this moral repulsion may have been the cause of her death. And naturally Charrington must not be considered blameless here: he is not a sad ghost who dutifully keeps his promise to wed his bride, a wan phantom who is heartbroken when she faints at his misty touch. Unlike the couple in “From the Dead” there is very little pathos in John Charrington’s abduction of his living wife to the world of the dead. It is an insidious return from the dead, one clearly motivated by an intention to return to hell with his betrothed, and in that sense his resurrection might be viewed as utterly murderous.
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As previously noted, there are clear parallels between Nesbit’s story and many of the great works of Poe (e.g. “Ligeia,” “Usher,” “Morella”) and Le Fanu (e.g. “Schalken the Painter,” “Laura Silver Bell,” “Ultor de Lacy”). Le Fanu’s "Schalken the Painter" is a particular and explicit model, with its story of a hapless young woman who is kidnapped by a lustful ghost who essentially purchases her from her well-meaning-but-greedy uncle with a suspiciously massive dowry. The bridal couple drive away in a carriage, which is later discovered empty on the side of the road. Years later, Schalken, her heartbroken lover who was also her uncle's apprentice, encounters her spirit in the dark crypt of a cathedral where the body of her abductor had been buried. She suggestively smiles and silently beckons him -- holding a candle and wearing a nightdress -- down the halls of the crypt before drawing the curtains back on a strange bed where he recognizes the ghost sitting in bed, as if awaiting the conjugal act. At this point, Schalken faints, and awakens in front of a tomb, but cannot shake the image of her smiling at him from the dark. Le Fanu uses this as an origin story to explain why the historical painter, Godfried Schlacken, was obsessed with painting the motif of a lightly-garbed woman grinning seductively at the viewer while holding a candle in a dark room.
But this archetype of the predatory demon lover is far older than Le Fanu, or Poe, or even G. A. Bürger (who defined the trope with his 1773 poem "Lenore"). Its origins are ancient. This violence is even more pronounced in the ancient myth which inspired each of these writers, the Greek story of the Rape of Persephone. Like Nesbit’s May and Le Fanu’s Rose, Persephone – who is incidentally associated with springtime and flowers – attracted the attention of an unwanted suitor: Hades, king of the Underworld. He abducted her while she was picking flowers, dragged her into hell, ravaged her, and forced her to become his wife. Her mother, Demeter, was the goddess of harvest, and she blighted the world with winter until Hades allowed Persephone to return. They came to a compromise: Persephone would return to the world of the living each spring (and winter would depart), and go back to her “husband” in the fall (when Demeter would send the world back into frosty mourning), thus explaining the seasons. Persephone would eternally be Hades’ wife, and became the Queen of the Dead.
Both of these stories – if accepted as sources – suggest the darker, violently sexual nature of Charrington’s abduction, and offer a powerful and evocative commentary on male possessiveness and sexual violence, which were much easier to discuss in the disarming context of an ill-starred wedding day than an established marriage. Wife-beating, spousal rape, and zealous ownership are all possible real-world metaphors with which this story, like so many of Nesbit’s, bitterly portrays the shadows that can hang so heavily upon matrimony.