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The Ministerās Black Veil
A Parable [1]
The sexton stood in the porch of Milford meeting house, pulling busily at the bell rope. The old people of the village came stooping along the street. Children, with bright faces, tripped merrily beside their parents, or mimicked a graver gait, in the conscious dignity of their Sunday clothes. Spruce bachelors looked sidelong at the pretty maidens, and fancied that the Sabbath sunshine made them prettier than on week days. When the throng had mostly streamed into the porch, the sexton began to toll the bell, keeping his eye on the Reverend Mr. Hooperās door. The first glimpse of the clergymanās figure was the signal for the bell to cease its summons.
āBut what has good Parson Hooper got upon his face?ā cried the sexton in astonishment.
All within hearing immediately turned about, and beheld the semblance of Mr. Hooper, pacing slowly his meditative way towards the meetinghouse. With one accord they started, expressing more wonder than if some strange minister were coming to dust the cushions of Mr. Hooperās pulpit.
āAre you sure it is our parson?ā inquired Goodman Gray of the sexton.
āOf a certainty it is good Mr. Hooper,ā replied the sexton. āHe was to have exchanged pulpits with Parson Shute, of Westbury; but Parson Shute sent to excuse himself yesterday, being to preach a funeral sermon.ā
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 had starched his band, and brushed the weekly dust from his Sundayās garb. There was but one thing remarkable in his appearance. Swathed about his forehead, and hanging down over his face, so low as to be shaken by his breath, Mr. Hooper had on a black veil. On a nearer view it seemed to consist of two folds of crape, which entirely concealed his features, except the mouth and chin, but probably did not intercept his sight, further than to give a darkened aspect to all living and inanimate things. With this gloomy shade before him, good Mr. Hooper walked onward, at a slow and quiet pace, stooping somewhat, and looking on the ground, as is customary with abstracted men, yet nodding kindly to those of his parishioners who still waited on the meeting house steps. But so wonderstruck were they that his greeting hardly met with a return.
āI canāt really feel as if good Mr. Hooperās face was behind that piece of crape,ā said the sexton.
āI donāt like it,ā muttered an old woman, as she hobbled into the meeting house. āHe has changed himself into something awful, only by hiding his face.ā
āOur parson has gone mad!ā cried Goodman Gray, following him across the threshold.
A rumor of some unaccountable phenomenon had preceded Mr. Hooper into the meeting house, and set all the congregation astir. Few could refrain from twisting their heads towards the door; many stood upright, and turned directly about; while several little boys clambered upon the seats, and came down again with a terrible racket. There was a general bustle, a rustling of the womenās gowns and shuffling of the menās feet, greatly at variance with that hushed repose which should attend the entrance of the minister. But Mr. H...
