The Ministers Black Veil
Welcome to Poet’s Corner. Periodically in the podcasts I like to turn to literature. Our greatest poets are some of our greatest preachers. I spent my professional career wandering in the wilderness of the world’s greatest literature. But they are not preaching from a pulpit. They can be very subtle. Many of Shakespeare’s most quotable lines come from the black hearts of his greatest villains. For example, the following memorable lines that could be quoted from any pulpit, are from Iago, In Shakespeare’s Othello, who has ice for blood:
“Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls: Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands: But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him And makes me poor indeed.”
The short story I have chosen today is from Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Twice-Told Tales, entitled “The Minister’s Black Veil.” Linda will read directly from the text.
Unless you are a hardcore Hawthorne fan, you have perhaps passed over this peculiar tale. The full title is “The Minister’s Black Veil, A Parable. According to a footnote by the author, it is strangely based on a true story.
The Reverend Mr. Hooper was naturally melancholy, but not excessive, and everyone loved him. He was a good preacher, more intellectual than emotional. He was engaged to a young woman who could only be called a saint. Then a very strange thing happened. No one in the village was prepared for the sudden transformation in their minister. When he showed up to preach at a young woman’s funeral, he was wearing a black veil. Some thought he was hiding some great sin. Such an inference was hinted at by the funeral sermon:
“The sermon …was tinged rather more darkly than usual with the gentle gloom of Mr. Hooper's temperament. The subject had reference to secret sin and those sad mysteries which we hide from our nearest and dearest, and would fain conceal from our own consciousness, even forgetting that the Omniscient can detect them.”
However, the sermon had a powerful effect on the mourners, all brought on because of the Minister’s Black Veil.
“A subtle power was breathed into his words. Each member of the congregation, the most innocent girl and the man of hardened breast, felt as if the preacher had crept upon them behind his awful veil and discovered their hoarded iniquity of deed or thought. Many spread their clasped hands on their bosoms. There was nothing terrible in what Mr. Hooper said—at least, no violence; and yet with every tremor of his melancholy voice the hearers quaked.”
It was their perceptions of the minister and not the minister himself that caused them to quake. They didn’t know that the man behind the mask was the same. It was the mystery, the uncertainty, the black veil that they feared. He appeared more sinister than he was.
The villagers were drawn to the minister, yet repulsed by him at the same time.
“The clergyman stepped into the room where the corpse was laid, and bent over the coffin to take a last farewell of his deceased parishioner. As he stooped the veil hung straight down from his forehead, so that, if her eye-lids had not been closed for ever, the dead maiden might have seen his face. Could Mr. Hooper be fearful of her glance, that he so hastily caught back the black veil?”
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