The Minister's Black Veil

There was a stir about all the congregation; everyone in the meeting-house murmured around me, glancing and pointing towards the front door. I glanced around me, searching for the root of the disturbance. Finally, I saw the cause of the whispering: it was my dear Hooper, dressed as usual, save for a thin sheet of crape across his face. It was of the blackest black, though slightly sheer, as to be seen through. The veil reached past his nose, stopping short of his mouth, and fluttered with each inhalation. 1

Aside from this spectacle, he was dressed as normal- in his Sunday garb, carefully pressed and starched to pristine perfection. Hooper always dressed carefully, a mannerism that echoed through his person. Many Saturday nights I had seen him at his desk, planning the next day’s sermon, ensuring that his parish would respond as desired to his words. He cared deeply for his flock, greeting everyone he passed, inquiring about their welfare and that of their family. I had never seen him vexed at the town’s gossiping nature, or in fact at any other flaw. He was a patient man, willing to assist any poor soul who came to him. 2

“Elizabeth, has our Parson told you of this?” I started and turned, seeing an earnest Goodman Gray at my side. 3

“No, not a single word; I am as astounded as you.”4

“It has a terrible effect! Almost as if that veil surrounded us all, darkening the village with its presence.”5

At this I only shrugged and continued to the entrance. I edged nearer towards Hooper, but there was such a press to the door that I could not reach him. A rough semicircle has formed around the minister, isolating him, though still he bent forward to greet the crowd, smiling slightly as was usual. When Hooper ascended the pulpit, a chill silence filled the room, though all around looks were exchanged between friends, as if looking for some reassurance in the other’s eyes. 6

He delivered his sermon as usual, with a quiet kind of persuasion, rather than a fiery warning against evil. ‘Round me, though, the town shook with each tremble of the veil, as if a darkness leaked from my beloved, infecting everyone but myself. When Hooper exited at the end of the service, the room began to buzz. One lady saying, “I would not be alone with him for the world. I wonder he is not afraid to be alone with himself!”7

This continued for several days, the buzzing becoming louder and louder, peaking when a rumor was heard concerning a wedding. Apparently, my minister caught a glance of himself in a looking-glass hung on the wall, and, convulsing, spilt his glass on the ground and ran into the night. The strange event ruined the already dank celebration, causing further dismay among the town.8

With every passing day, a smattering of impertinent townsfolk asked me for the veil’s meaning. I told them truthfully that I did not know. After a time, I grew tired of the constant questions and ugly rumors that reached my ears, and resolved to ask at his next visit. 9

When Hooper entered, I studied his figure. It was familiar, and still comforting to me despite the dark presence of the veil. 10

“No,” I said to him, smiling, “there is nothing terrible in this piece of crape, except that it hides a face I am always glad to look upon. Come, good sir, let the sun shine from behind the cloud. First lay aside your black veil: then tell me why you put it on.”11

“There is an hour to come,” said he, “when all of us shall cast aside out veils. Take it not amiss, my beloved friend, if I wear this piece of crape till then.”12

I continued to smile, so sure that I could make him see the light beyond the blur of the veil. “Your words are a mystery, too,” I returned, “take away the veil for them, at least. 13

“Elizabeth, I will,” he said gently, “so far as my vow may suffer me. Know, then, that this veil is a type and a symbol, and I am bound to wear it ever, both in light and darkness, in solitude and before the gaze of multitudes, and as with strangers, so with my familiar friends. No mortal eye will see it withdrawn. This dismal shade must separate me from the world: even you, Elizabeth, can never come behind it!”14

A panic began to fill my chest, and I asked, “What grievous affliction hath befallen you that you should thus darken your eyes for ever?” 15

“If it be a sign of mourning,” he replied, eyes still tender, “I, perhaps, like most other mortals, have sorrows dark enough to be typified by a black veil.”16

“But what if the world will not believe that it is the type of an innocent sorrow? Beloved and respected as you are, there may be whispers, that you hide your face under the consciousness of secret sin. For the sake of your holy office, do away this scandal!17

“Do you know what they say of you? They say that you have done something beyond terrible, a crime wretched and unforgivable! Your people believe the worst of you, some imagining that you have been possessed as if by a demon! Why will you not be rid of this stigma?” I related more of the horrid lies that I had overheard in the streets, the obscene tales that the town had used to explain the veil into understanding. But my love did not react, except by the vague smile that played across his lips almost always. 18

“If I hide my face for sorrow, there is cause enough; and if I cover it for secret sin, what mortal might not do the same?”19

I looked at him, slowly, searchingly, hoping that some glimpse of light would escape the depths of the veil. Tears began to fall down my cheeks as I tried, again and again, to find some sense in the madness. Hooper turned each question away with an almost caressing rebuttal, and I finally lost faith in my influence over him. 20

In an instant, my skin prickled and a chill sank through my flesh, traveling to my very soul, which shuddered at the sight of my once most-loved minister. As I looked at him, I saw only a plane of black, rippling slowly, emitting a terror beyond any other mortal fear. 21

“And do you feel it then at last?” said he mournfully. 22

I did not try to reply, but covered my eyes from the dreadful sight of the veil, and made to leave. Hooper rushed forward and caught my arm. 23

“Have patience with me, Elizabeth!” I shivered at the sound of my name on his lips as he continued. “Do not desert me, though this veil must be between us here on earth. Be mine, and hereafter there shall be no veil over my face, no darkness between our souls! It is but a mortal veil- not for eternity! Oh! you do not know how lonely I am, and how frightened to be alone behind my black veil. Do not leave me in this miserable obscurity for ever!” 24

“Lift the veil but once, and look me in the face,” I pleaded. 25

“Never! It cannot be!” replied my dear parson. 26

“Then, farewell!” 27

I walked past him to the doorway, pausing to look upon him once more, hoping to see through the black into his eyes. But there was nothing. 28

Years passed, and people came from far places to see Mr. Hooper and his black veil. More speculations were made, more rumors spread. While he grew in fame and popularity, he grew in solitude. No one ever came to call at his house, save till he lay on his deathbed. I was part of the somber congregation that saw his outburst on his dying-day; his last effort was to press the veil to his face even as he ceased breathing, hidden for ever behind the Black Veil. 29