THE MINISTER'S BLACK VEIL.
A PARABLE.[1]
The sexton stood in the porch of Milford meeting-house pulling lustilyat the bell-rope. The old people of the village came stooping alongthe street. Children with bright faces tripped merrily beside theirparents or mimicked a graver gait in the conscious dignity of theirSunday clothes. Spruce bachelors looked sidelong at the prettymaidens, and fancied that the Sabbath sunshine made them prettier thanon week-days. When the throng had mostly streamed into the porch, thesexton began to toll the bell, keeping his eye on the Reverend Mr.Hooper's door. The first glimpse of the clergyman's figure was thesignal for the bell to cease its summons.
[Footnote 1: Another clergyman in New England, Mr. Joseph Moody, ofYork, Maine, who died about eighty years since, made himselfremarkable by the same eccentricity that is here related of theReverend Mr. Hooper. In his case, however, the symbol had a differentimport. In early life he had accidentally killed a beloved friend, andfrom that day till the hour of his own death he hid his face frommen.]
"But what has good Parson Hooper got upon his face?" cried the sexton,in astonishment.
All within hearing immediately turned about and beheld the semblanceof Mr. Hooper pacing slowly his meditative way toward themeeting-house. With one accord they started, expressing more wonderthan if some strange minister were coming to dust the cushions of Mr.Hooper's pulpit.
"Are you sure it is our parson?" inquired Goodman Gray of the sexton.
"Of a certainty it is good Mr. Hooper," replied the sexton. "He was tohave exchanged pulpits with Parson Shute of Westbury, but Parson Shutesent to excuse himself yesterday, being to preach a funeral sermon."
The cause of so much amazement may appear sufficiently slight. Mr.Hooper, a gentlemanly person of about thirty, though still a bachelor,was dressed with due clerical neatness, as if a careful wife hadstarched his band and brushed the weekly dust from his Sunday's garb.There was but one thing remarkable in his appearance. Swathed abouthis forehead and hanging down over his face, so low as to be shaken byhis breath, Mr. Hooper had on a black veil. On a nearer view it seemedto consist of two folds of crape, which entirely concealed hisfeatures except the mouth and chin, but probably did not intercept hissight further than to give a darkened aspect to all living andinanimate things. With this gloomy shade before him good Mr. Hooperwalked onward at a slow and quiet pace, stooping somewhat and lookingon the ground, as is customary with abstracted men, yet nodding kindlyto those of his parishioners who still waited on the meeting-housesteps. But so wonder-struck were they that his greeting hardly metwith a return.
"I can't really feel as if good Mr. Hooper's face was behind thatpiece of crape," said the sexton.
"I don't like it," muttered an old woman as she hobbled into themeeting-house. "He has changed himself into something awful only byhiding his face."
"Our parson has gone mad!" cried Goodman Gray, following him acrossthe threshold.
A rumor of some unaccountable phenomenon had preceded Mr. Hooper intothe meeting-house and set all the congregation astir. Few couldrefrain from twisting their heads toward the door; many stood uprightand turned directly about; while several little boys clambered uponthe seats, and came down again with a terrible racket. There was ageneral bustle, a rustling of the women's gowns and shuffling of themen's feet, greatly at variance with that hushed repose which shouldattend the entrance of the minister. But Mr. Hooper appeared not tonotice the perturbation of his people. He entered with an almostnoiseless step, bent his head mildly to the pews on each side andbowed as he passed his oldest parishioner, a white-hairedgreat-grandsire, who occupied an arm-chair in the centre of the aisle.It was strange to observe how slowly this venerable man becameconscious of something singular in the appearance of his pastor. Heseemed not fully to partake of the prevailing wonder till Mr. Hooperhad ascended the stairs and showed himself in the pulpit, face to facewith his congregation except for the black veil. That mysteriousemblem was never once withdrawn. It shook with his measured breath ashe gave out the psalm, it threw its obscurity between him and the holypage as he read the Scriptures, and while he prayed the veil layheavily on his uplifted countenance. Did he seek to hide it from thedread Being whom he was addressing?
Such was the effect of this simple piece of crape that more than onewoman of delicate nerves was forced to leave the meeting-house. Yetperhaps the pale-faced congregation was almost as fearful a sight tothe minister as his black veil to them.
Mr. Hooper had the reputation of a good preacher, but not an energeticone: he strove to win his people heavenward by mild, persuasiveinfluences rather than to drive them thither by the thunders of theword. The sermon which he now delivered was marked by the samecharacteristics of style and manner as the general series of hispulpit oratory, but there was something either in the sentiment of thediscourse itself or in the imagination of the auditors which made itgreatly the most powerful effort that they had ever heard from theirpastor's lips. It was tinged rather more darkly than usual with thegentle gloom of Mr. Hooper's temperament. The subject had reference tosecret sin and those sad mysteries which we hide from our nearest anddearest, and would fain conceal from our own consciousness, evenforgetting that the Omniscient can detect them. A subtle power wasbreathed into his words. Each member of the congregation, the mostinnocent girl and the man of hardened breast, felt as if the preacherhad crept upon them behind his awful veil and discovered their hoardediniquity of deed or thought. Many spread their clasped hands on theirbosoms. There was nothing terrible in what Mr. Hooper said--at least,no violence; and yet with every tremor of his melancholy voice thehearers quaked. An unsought pathos came hand in hand with awe. Sosensible were the audience of some unwonted attribute in theirminister that they longed for a breath of wind to blow aside the veil,almost believing that a stranger's visage would be discovered, thoughthe form, gesture and voice were those of Mr. Hooper.
At the close of the services the people hurried out with indecorousconfusion, eager to communicate their pent-up amazement, and consciousof lighter spirits the moment they lost sight of the black veil. Somegathered in little circles, huddled closely together, with theirmouths all whispering in the centre; some went homeward alone, wrappedin silent meditation; some talked loudly and profaned the Sabbath-daywith ostentatious laughter. A few shook their sagacious heads,intimating that they could penetrate the mystery, while one or twoaffirmed that there was no mystery at all, but only that Mr. Hooper'seyes were so weakened by the midnight lamp as to require a shade.
After a brief interval forth came good Mr. Hooper also, in the rear ofhis flock. Turning his veiled face from one group to another, he paiddue reverence to the hoary heads, saluted the middle-aged with kinddignity as their friend and spiritual guide, greeted the young withmingled authority and love, and laid his hands on the littlechildren's heads to bless them. Such was always his custom on theSabbath-day. Strange and bewildered looks repaid him for his courtesy.None, as on former occasions, aspired to the honor of walking by theirpastor's side. Old Squire Saunders--doubtless by an accidental lapseof memory--neglected to invite Mr. Hooper to his table, where the goodclergyman had been wont to bless the food almost every Sunday sincehis settlement. He returned, therefore, to the parsonage, and at themoment of closing the door was observed to look back upon the people,all of whom had their eyes fixed upon the minister. A sad smilegleamed faintly from beneath the black veil and flickered about hismouth, glimmering as he disappeared.
"How strange," said a lady, "that a simple black veil, such as anywoman might wear on her bonnet, should become such a terrible thing onMr. Hooper's face!"
"Something must surely be amiss with Mr. Hooper's intellects,"observed her husband, the physician of the village. "But the strangestpart of the affair is the effect of this vagary even on a sober-mindedman like myself. The black veil, though it covers only our pastor'sface, throws its influence over his whole person and makes himghost-like from head to foot. Do you not feel it so?"
"Tru
ly do I," replied the lady; "and I would not be alone with him forthe world. I wonder he is not afraid to be alone with himself."
"Men sometimes are so," said her husband.
The afternoon service was attended with similar circumstances. At itsconclusion the bell tolled for the funeral of a young lady. Therelatives and friends were assembled in the house and the more distantacquaintances stood about the door, speaking of the good qualities ofthe deceased, when their talk was interrupted by the appearance of Mr.Hooper, still covered with his black veil. It was now an appropriateemblem. The clergyman stepped into the room where the corpse was laid,and bent over the coffin to take a last farewell of his deceasedparishioner. As he stooped the veil hung straight down from hisforehead, so that, if her eye-lids had not been closed for ever, thedead maiden might have seen his face. Could Mr. Hooper be fearful ofher glance, that he so hastily caught back the black veil? A personwho watched the interview between the dead and living scrupled not toaffirm that at the instant when the clergyman's features weredisclosed the corpse had slightly shuddered, rustling the shroud andmuslin cap, though the countenance retained the composure of death. Asuperstitious old woman was the only witness of this prodigy.
From the coffin Mr. Hooper passed into the chamber of the mourners,and thence to the head of the staircase, to make the funeral prayer.It was a tender and heart-dissolving prayer, full of sorrow, yet soimbued with celestial hopes that the music of a heavenly harp swept bythe fingers of the dead seemed faintly to be heard among the saddestaccents of the minister. The people trembled, though they but darklyunderstood him, when he prayed that they and himself, and all ofmortal race, might be ready, as he trusted this young maiden had been,for the dreadful hour that should snatch the veil from their faces.The bearers went heavily forth and the mourners followed, saddeningall the street, with the dead before them and Mr. Hooper in his blackveil behind.
"Why do you look back?" said one in the procession to his partner.
"I had a fancy," replied she, "that the minister and the maiden'sspirit were walking hand in hand."
"And so had I at the same moment," said the other.
That night the handsomest couple in Milford village were to be joinedin wedlock. Though reckoned a melancholy man, Mr. Hooper had a placidcheerfulness for such occasions which often excited a sympatheticsmile where livelier merriment would have been thrown away. There wasno quality of his disposition which made him more beloved than this.The company at the wedding awaited his arrival with impatience,trusting that the strange awe which had gathered over him throughoutthe day would now be dispelled. But such was not the result. When Mr.Hooper came, the first thing that their eyes rested on was the samehorrible black veil which had added deeper gloom to the funeral andcould portend nothing but evil to the wedding. Such was its immediateeffect on the guests that a cloud seemed to have rolled duskily frombeneath the black crape and dimmed the light of the candles. Thebridal pair stood up before the minister, but the bride's cold fingersquivered in the tremulous hand of the bridegroom, and her death-likepaleness caused a whisper that the maiden who had been buried a fewhours before was come from her grave to be married. If ever anotherwedding were so dismal, it was that famous one where they tolled thewedding-knell.
After performing the ceremony Mr. Hooper raised a glass of wine to hislips, wishing happiness to the new-married couple in a strain of mildpleasantry that ought to have brightened the features of the guestslike a cheerful gleam from the hearth. At that instant, catching aglimpse of his figure in the looking-glass, the black veil involvedhis own spirit in the horror with which it overwhelmed all others. Hisframe shuddered, his lips grew white, he spilt the untasted wine uponthe carpet and rushed forth into the darkness, for the Earth too hadon her black veil.
The next day the whole village of Milford talked of little else thanParson Hooper's black veil. That, and the mystery concealed behind it,supplied a topic for discussion between acquaintances meeting in thestreet and good women gossipping at their open windows. It was thefirst item of news that the tavernkeeper told to his guests. Thechildren babbled of it on their way to school. One imitative littleimp covered his face with an old black handkerchief, thereby soaffrighting his playmates that the panic seized himself and hewellnigh lost his wits by his own waggery.
It was remarkable that, of all the busybodies and impertinent peoplein the parish, not one ventured to put the plain question to Mr.Hooper wherefore he did this thing. Hitherto, whenever there appearedthe slightest call for such interference, he had never lacked advisersnor shown himself averse to be guided by their judgment. If he erredat all, it was by so painful a degree of self-distrust that even themildest censure would lead him to consider an indifferent action as acrime. Yet, though so well acquainted with this amiable weakness, noindividual among his parishioners chose to make the black veil asubject of friendly remonstrance. There was a feeling of dread,neither plainly confessed nor carefully concealed, which caused eachto shift the responsibility upon another, till at length it was foundexpedient to send a deputation of the church, in order to deal withMr. Hooper about the mystery before it should grow into a scandal.Never did an embassy so ill discharge its duties. The ministerreceived them with friendly courtesy, but became silent after theywere seated, leaving to his visitors the whole burden of introducingtheir important business. The topic, it might be supposed, was obviousenough. There was the black veil swathed round Mr. Hooper's foreheadand concealing every feature above his placid mouth, on which, attimes, they could perceive the glimmering of a melancholy smile. Butthat piece of crape, to their imagination, seemed to hang down beforehis heart, the symbol of a fearful secret between him and them. Werethe veil but cast aside, they might speak freely of it, but not tillthen. Thus they sat a considerable time, speechless, confused andshrinking uneasily from Mr. Hooper's eye, which they felt to be fixedupon them with an invisible glance. Finally, the deputies returnedabashed to their constituents, pronouncing the matter too weighty tobe handled except by a council of the churches, if, indeed, it mightnot require a General Synod.
But there was one person in the village unappalled by the awe withwhich the black veil had impressed all besides herself. When thedeputies returned without an explanation, or even venturing to demandone, she with the calm energy of her character determined to chaseaway the strange cloud that appeared to be settling round Mr. Hooperevery moment more darkly than before. As his plighted wife it shouldbe her privilege to know what the black veil concealed. At theminister's first visit, therefore, she entered upon the subject with adirect simplicity which made the task easier both for him and her.After he had seated himself she fixed her eyes steadfastly upon theveil, but could discern nothing of the dreadful gloom that had sooverawed the multitude; it was but a double fold of crape hanging downfrom his forehead to his mouth and slightly stirring with his breath.
"No," said she, aloud, and smiling, "there is nothing terrible in thispiece of crape, except that it hides a face which I am always glad tolook 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."
Mr. Hooper's smile glimmered faintly.
"There is an hour to come," said he, "when all of us shall cast asideour veils. Take it not amiss, beloved friend, if I wear this piece ofcrape till then."
"Your words are a mystery too," returned the young lady. "Take awaythe veil from them, at least."
"Elizabeth, I will," said he, "so far as my vow may suffer me. Know,then, this veil is a type and a symbol, and I am bound to wear itever, both in light and darkness, in solitude and before the gaze ofmultitudes, and as with strangers, so with my familiar friends. Nomortal eye will see it withdrawn. This dismal shade must separate mefrom the world; even you, Elizabeth, can never come behind it."
"What grievous affliction hath befallen you," she earnestly inquired,"that you should thus darken your eyes for ever?"
"If it be a sign of mourning," replied Mr. Hooper, "I, perhaps, likemost ot
her mortals, have sorrows dark enough to be typified by a blackveil."
"But what if the world will not believe that it is the type of aninnocent sorrow?" urged Elizabeth. "Beloved and respected as you are,there may be whispers that you hide your face under the consciousnessof secret sin. For the sake of your holy office do away this scandal."
The color rose into her cheeks as she intimated the nature of therumors that were already abroad in the village. But Mr. Hooper'smildness did not forsake him. He even smiled again--that same sadsmile which always appeared like a faint glimmering of lightproceeding from the obscurity beneath the veil.
"If I hide my face for sorrow, there is cause enough," he merelyreplied; "and if I cover it for secret sin, what mortal might not dothe same?" And with this gentle but unconquerable obstinacy did heresist all her entreaties.
At length Elizabeth sat silent. For a few moments she appeared lost inthought, considering, probably, what new methods might be tried towithdraw her lover from so dark a fantasy, which, if it had no othermeaning, was perhaps a symptom of mental disease. Though of a firmercharacter than his own, the tears rolled down her cheeks. But in aninstant, as it were, a new feeling took the place of sorrow: her eyeswere fixed insensibly on the black veil, when like a sudden twilightin the air its terrors fell around her. She arose and stood tremblingbefore him.
"And do you feel it, then, at last?" said he, mournfully.
She made no reply, but covered her eyes with her hand and turned toleave the room. He rushed forward and caught her arm.
"Have patience with me, Elizabeth!" cried he, passionately. "Do notdesert 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 betweenour souls. It is but a mortal veil; it is not for eternity. Oh, youknow not how lonely I am, and how frightened to be alone behind myblack veil! Do not leave me in this miserable obscurity for ever."
"Lift the veil but once and look me in the face," said she.
"Never! It cannot be!" replied Mr. Hooper.
"Then farewell!" said Elizabeth.
She withdrew her arm from his grasp and slowly departed, pausing atthe door to give one long, shuddering gaze that seemed almost topenetrate the mystery of the black veil. But even amid his grief Mr.Hooper smiled to think that only a material emblem had separated himfrom happiness, though the horrors which it shadowed forth must bedrawn darkly between the fondest of lovers.
From that time no attempts were made to remove Mr. Hooper's black veilor by a direct appeal to discover the secret which it was supposed tohide. By persons who claimed a superiority to popular prejudice it wasreckoned merely an eccentric whim, such as often mingles with thesober actions of men otherwise rational and tinges them all with itsown semblance of insanity. But with the multitude good Mr. Hooper wasirreparably a bugbear. He could not walk the street with any peace ofmind, so conscious was he that the gentle and timid would turn asideto avoid him, and that others would make it a point of hardihood tothrow themselves in his way. The impertinence of the latter classcompelled him to give up his customary walk at sunset to theburial-ground; for when he leaned pensively over the gate, there wouldalways be faces behind the gravestones peeping at his black veil. Afable went the rounds that the stare of the dead people drove himthence. It grieved him to the very depth of his kind heart to observehow the children fled from his approach, breaking up their merriestsports while his melancholy figure was yet afar off. Their instinctivedread caused him to feel more strongly than aught else that apreternatural horror was interwoven with the threads of the blackcrape. In truth, his own antipathy to the veil was known to be sogreat that he never willingly passed before a mirror nor stooped todrink at a still fountain lest in its peaceful bosom he should beaffrighted by himself. This was what gave plausibility to the whispersthat Mr. Hooper's conscience tortured him for some great crime toohorrible to be entirely concealed or otherwise than so obscurelyintimated. Thus from beneath the black veil there rolled a cloud intothe sunshine, an ambiguity of sin or sorrow, which enveloped the poorminister, so that love or sympathy could never reach him. It was saidthat ghost and fiend consorted with him there. With self-shudderingsand outward terrors he walked continually in its shadow, gropingdarkly within his own soul or gazing through a medium that saddenedthe whole world. Even the lawless wind, it was believed, respected hisdreadful secret and never blew aside the veil. But still good Mr.Hooper sadly smiled at the pale visages of the worldly throng as hepassed by.
Among all its bad influences, the black veil had the one desirableeffect of making its wearer a very efficient clergyman. By the aid ofhis mysterious emblem--for there was no other apparent cause--hebecame a man of awful power over souls that were in agony for sin. Hisconverts always regarded him with a dread peculiar to themselves,affirming, though but figuratively, that before he brought them tocelestial light they had been with him behind the black veil. Itsgloom, indeed, enabled him to sympathize with all dark affections.Dying sinners cried aloud for Mr. Hooper and would not yield theirbreath till he appeared, though ever, as he stooped to whisperconsolation, they shuddered at the veiled face so near their own. Suchwere the terrors of the black veil even when Death had bared hisvisage. Strangers came long distances to attend service at his churchwith the mere idle purpose of gazing at his figure because it wasforbidden them to behold his face. But many were made to quake erethey departed. Once, during Governor Belcher's administration, Mr.Hooper was appointed to preach the election sermon. Covered with hisblack veil, he stood before the chief magistrate, the council and therepresentatives, and wrought so deep an impression that thelegislative measures of that year were characterized by all the gloomand piety of our earliest ancestral sway.
In this manner Mr. Hooper spent a long life, irreproachable in outwardact, yet shrouded in dismal suspicions; kind and loving, thoughunloved and dimly feared; a man apart from men, shunned in theirhealth and joy, but ever summoned to their aid in mortal anguish. Asyears wore on, shedding their snows above his sable veil, he acquireda name throughout the New England churches, and they called him FatherHooper. Nearly all his parishioners who were of mature age when he wassettled had been borne away by many a funeral: he had one congregationin the church and a more crowded one in the churchyard; and, havingwrought so late into the evening and done his work so well, it was nowgood Father Hooper's turn to rest.
Several persons were visible by the shaded candlelight in thedeath-chamber of the old clergyman. Natural connections he had none.But there was the decorously grave though unmoved physician, seekingonly to mitigate the last pangs of the patient whom he could not save.There were the deacons and other eminently pious members of hischurch. There, also, was the Reverend Mr. Clark of Westbury, a youngand zealous divine who had ridden in haste to pray by the bedside ofthe expiring minister. There was the nurse--no hired handmaiden ofDeath, but one whose calm affection had endured thus long in secrecy,in solitude, amid the chill of age, and would not perish even at thedying-hour. Who but Elizabeth! And there lay the hoary head of goodFather Hooper upon the death-pillow with the black veil still swathedabout his brow and reaching down over his face, so that each moredifficult gasp of his faint breath caused it to stir. All through lifethat piece of crape had hung between him and the world; it hadseparated him from cheerful brotherhood and woman's love and kept himin that saddest of all prisons his own heart; and still it lay uponhis face, as if to deepen the gloom of his darksome chamber and shadehim from the sunshine of eternity.
For some time previous his mind had been confused, wavering doubtfullybetween the past and the present, and hovering forward, as it were, atintervals, into the indistinctness of the world to come. There hadbeen feverish turns which tossed him from side to side and wore awaywhat little strength he had. But in his most convulsive struggles andin the wildest vagaries of his intellect, when no other thoughtretained its sober influence, he still showed an awful solicitude lestthe black veil should slip aside. Even if his bewildered soul couldhave forgotte
n, there was a faithful woman at his pillow who withaverted eyes would have covered that aged face which she had lastbeheld in the comeliness of manhood.
At length the death-stricken old man lay quietly in the torpor ofmental and bodily exhaustion, with an imperceptible pulse and breaththat grew fainter and fainter except when a long, deep and irregularinspiration seemed to prelude the flight of his spirit.
The minister of Westbury approached the bedside.
"Venerable Father Hooper," said he, "the moment of your release is athand. Are you ready for the lifting of the veil that shuts in timefrom eternity?"
Father Hooper at first replied merely by a feeble motion of his head;then--apprehensive, perhaps, that his meaning might be doubtful--heexerted himself to speak.
"Yea," said he, in faint accents; "my soul hath a patient wearinessuntil that veil be lifted."
"And is it fitting," resumed the Reverend Mr. Clark, "that a man sogiven to prayer, of such a blameless example, holy in deed andthought, so far as mortal judgment may pronounce,--is it fitting thata father in the Church should leave a shadow on his memory that mayseem to blacken a life so pure? I pray you, my venerable brother, letnot this thing be! Suffer us to be gladdened by your triumphant aspectas you go to your reward. Before the veil of eternity be lifted let mecast aside this black veil from your face;" and, thus speaking, theReverend Mr. Clark bent forward to reveal the mystery of so manyyears.
But, exerting a sudden energy that made all the beholders standaghast, Father Hooper snatched both his hands from beneath thebedclothes and pressed them strongly on the black veil, resolute tostruggle if the minister of Westbury would contend with a dying man.
"Never!" cried the veiled clergyman. "On earth, never!"
"Dark old man," exclaimed the affrighted minister, "with what horriblecrime upon your soul are you now passing to the judgment?"
Father Hooper's breath heaved: it rattled in his throat; but, with amighty effort grasping forward with his hands, he caught hold of lifeand held it back till he should speak. He even raised himself in bed,and there he sat shivering with the arms of Death around him, whilethe black veil hung down, awful at that last moment in the gatheredterrors of a lifetime. And yet the faint, sad smile so often there nowseemed to glimmer from its obscurity and linger on Father Hooper'slips.
"Why do you tremble at me alone?" cried he, turning his veiled faceround the circle of pale spectators. "Tremble also at each other. Havemen avoided me and women shown no pity and children screamed and fledonly for my black veil? What but the mystery which it obscurelytypifies has made this piece of crape so awful? When the friend showshis inmost heart to his friend, the lover to his best-beloved; whenman does not vainly shrink from the eye of his Creator, loathsomelytreasuring up the secret of his sin,--then deem me a monster for thesymbol beneath which I have lived and die. I look around me, and, lo!on every visage a black veil!"
While his auditors shrank from one another in mutual affright, FatherHooper fell back upon his pillow, a veiled corpse with a faint smilelingering on the lips. Still veiled, they laid him in his coffin, anda veiled corpse they bore him to the grave. The grass of many yearshas sprung up and withered on that grave, the burial-stone ismoss-grown, and good Mr. Hooper's face is dust; but awful is still thethought that it mouldered beneath the black veil.
Twice Told Tales Page 4