Learning Targets for this unit:
1. I can draw evidence from literary or informational texts to support analysis, reflection,
and research.
2. I can explore topics dealing with different cultures and world viewpoints.
3. I can write an arguments to support a claim in an analysis of substantive topics or texts,
using valid reasoning and relevant and sufficient evidence
4. I can determine or clarify the meaning of unknown and multiple-meaning words and
phrases by using context clues, analyzing meaningful word parts, and consulting
general and specialized reference materials, as appropriate.
5. I can adapt the elements of an artistic product to a variety of contexts and communicative tasks demonstrating command of appropriate technique and use of artistic tools.
REMEMBER THAT TOMORROW YOU HAVE A VOCABULARY TEST ON THE "Minister's Black Veil" same format, as always. STUDY!
In class: You are working on Nathaniel Hawthorne's short story "The Minister's Black Veil." Like Coleridge's "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" and Washington Irving's "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow", "The Minister's Black Veil" is an representative of the literature from the Romantic movement. Note that is about "common people" and relies upon the ideas of the supernatural and the power of imagination, which in this particular story leans towards darkness and evil. However, unlike "The Mariner" there is no resolution, and the reader must look inside himself or herself for the answer.
Practicalities: in a group of no more than 4 people, take turn reading the story aloud. You should have no problems finishing this by the end of class.
Tomorrow you will begin working independently on your three choice assignments. All work will be collected at the end of class on Tuesday. Plan according. This will count as a writing grade and will be the last grade of this marking period.
Below you will find copies of all the handouts.
The Minister’s Black Veil
by Nathaniel Hawthorne
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. Hooper's door. The first glimpse of the clergyman's
figure was the signal for the bell to cease its summons.
"But what has good Parson Hooper got
upon his face?" 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 meeting-house. With one
accord they started, expressing more wonder than if some
strange minister were coming to dust the cushions of Mr. Hooper's pulpit.
"Of a certainty it is good Mr.
Hooper," replied the sexton. "He was to have exchanged pulpits with
Parson Shute, of Westbury; but Parson Shute sent 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
had starched his band, and brushed the weekly dust from his
Sunday's 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 wonder-struck were they that his greeting hardly
met with a return.
"I can't really feel as if good Mr.
Hooper's face was behind that piece of crape," said the sexton.
"I don't like it," muttered an
old woman, as she hobbled into the meeting-house. "He has changed himself
into something awful, only by hiding his face."
"Our parson has gone mad!" 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 women's gowns and shuffling of the men's feet,
greatly at variance with that
hushed repose which should attend the entrance of the
minister. But Mr. Hooper appeared not to notice the perturbation
of his people. He entered with an almost noiseless step, bent his head mildly
to the pews on each side, and bowed as he passed his oldest parishioner,
a white-haired great-grandsire, who occupied an arm-chair in the centre of the
aisle. It was strange to observe how slowly this venerable
man became conscious of something singular
in the appearance of his pastor. He seemed not fully to partake of the
prevailing wonder, till Mr. Hooper had ascended the stairs, and showed himself
in the pulpit, face to face with his congregation, except for the black veil.
That mysterious emblem was never once withdrawn.
It shook with his measured breath, as he gave out the psalm; it threw its
obscurity between him and the holy page, as he read the Scriptures; and while
he prayed, the veil lay heavily on his uplifted countenance.
Did he seek to hide it from the dread Being whom he was addressing?
Such was the effect of this simple piece of
crape, that more than one woman of delicate nerves
was forced to leave the meeting-house. Yet perhaps the pale-faced congregation
was almost as fearful a sight to the minister, as his black veil to them.
Mr. Hooper had the reputation of a good
preacher, but not an energetic one: he strove to win his people heavenward by
mild, persuasive influences, rather than to drive them thither
by the thunders of the Word. The sermon which he now delivered was marked by
the same characteristics of style and manner as the general series of his
pulpit oratory. But there was something, either in
the sentiment of the discourse
itself, or in the imagination of the auditors,
which made it greatly the most powerful effort that they had ever heard from
their pastor's lips. It 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. 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. An unsought pathos came hand in hand with awe. So
sensible were the audience of some unwonted
attribute in their minister, that they longed for a breath of wind to blow
aside the veil, almost believing that a stranger's visage
would be discovered, though the form, gesture, and voice were those of Mr.
Hooper.
At the close of the services, the people
hurried out with indecorous confusion, eager to
communicate their pent-up amazement, and conscious of lighter spirits the
moment they lost sight of the black veil. Some gathered in little circles,
huddled closely together, with their mouths all whispering in the centre; some
went homeward alone, wrapt in silent meditation; some talked loudly, and profaned
the Sabbath day with ostentatious laughter. A few shook
their sagacious heads, intimating
that they could penetrate the mystery; while one or two affirmed that there was
no mystery at all, but only that Mr. Hooper's eyes 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 of his flock. Turning his veiled face from one
group to another, he paid due reverence to the hoary
heads, saluted the middle aged with kind dignity as their friend and spiritual
guide, greeted the young with mingled authority and love, and laid his hands on
the little children's heads to bless them. Such was always his custom on the
Sabbath day. Strange and bewildered looks repaid him for his courtesy. None, as
on former occasions, aspired to the honor
of walking by their pastor's side. Old Squire Saunders, doubtless
by an accidental lapse of memory, neglected to invite Mr. Hooper to his table,
where the good clergyman had been wont
to bless the food, almost every Sunday since his settlement. He returned,
therefore, to the parsonage, and, at the moment of closing the door, was
observed to look back upon the people, all of whom had their eyes fixed upon
the minister. A sad smile gleamed faintly from beneath the black veil, and
flickered about his mouth, glimmering as he disappeared.
"How strange," said a lady,
"that a simple black veil, such as any woman might wear on her bonnet,
should become such a terrible thing on Mr. Hooper's face!"
"Something must surely be amiss with
Mr. Hooper's intellects," observed her husband, the physician of the
village. "But the strangest part of the affair is the effect of this vagary,
even on a sober-minded man like myself. The black veil, though it covers only
our pastor's face, throws its influence over his whole person, and makes him
ghostlike from head to foot. Do you not feel it so?"
"Truly do I," replied the lady;
"and I would not be alone with him for the 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 its conclusion, the bell tolled for the funeral of a
young lady. The relatives and friends were assembled in the house, and the more
distant acquaintances stood about the door, speaking of the good qualities of
the deceased, when their talk was interrupted by the appearance of Mr. Hooper,
still covered with his black veil. It was now an appropriate emblem. 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 eyelids had not been
closed forever, 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? A person
who watched the interview between the dead and living, scrupled
not
to affirm, that, at the instant when the clergyman's features were disclosed,
the corpse had slightly shuddered, rustling the shroud and muslin cap, though
the countenance retained the composure of death. A superstitious 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 so imbued
with celestial hopes, that the music of a heavenly harp, swept by the fingers
of the dead, seemed faintly to be heard among the saddest accents of the
minister. The people trembled, though they but darkly understood him when he
prayed that they, and himself, and all of mortal 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, saddening all the street, with the dead before them, and Mr. Hooper
in his black veil 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's spirit 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 joined in wedlock.
Though reckoned a melancholy man, Mr. Hooper had a placid
cheerfulness for such occasions, which often excited a sympathetic smile where
livelier merriment would have been thrown away. There was no 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 throughout the 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 same horrible black veil, which had added deeper gloom
to the funeral, and could portend
nothing but evil to the wedding. Such was its immediate effect on the guests
that a cloud seemed to have rolled duskily from beneath the black crape, and
dimmed the light of the candles. The bridal pair stood up before the minister.
But the bride's cold fingers quivered in the tremulous
hand of the bridegroom, and her deathlike paleness caused a whisper that the
maiden who had been buried a few hours before was come from her grave to be
married. If ever another wedding were so dismal, it was that famous one where
they tolled the wedding knell. After performing the ceremony, Mr. Hooper raised
a glass of wine to his lips, wishing happiness to the new-married couple in a
strain of mild pleasantry that ought to have brightened the features of the
guests, like a cheerful gleam from the hearth. At that instant, catching a
glimpse of his figure in the looking-glass, the black veil involved his own
spirit in the horror with which it overwhelmed all others. His frame shuddered,
his lips grew white, he spilt the untasted wine upon the carpet, and rushed
forth into the darkness. For the Earth, too, had on her Black Veil.
The next day, the whole village of Milford
talked of little else than Parson Hooper's black veil. That, and the mystery concealed
behind it, supplied a topic for discussion between acquaintances meeting in the
street, and good women gossiping at their open windows. It was the first item
of news that the tavern-keeper told to his guests. The children babbled of it
on their way to school. One imitative little imp covered his face with an old
black handkerchief, thereby so affrighting his playmates that the panic seized
himself, and he well-nigh lost his wits by his own waggery.
It was remarkable that of all the
busybodies and impertinent people in the parish, not
one ventured to put the plain question to Mr.
Hooper, wherefore he did this thing. Hitherto,
whenever there appeared the slightest call for such interference, he had never
lacked advisers, nor shown himself adverse
to be guided by their judgment. If he erred
at all, it was by so painful a degree of self-distrust, that even the mildest censure
would lead him to consider an indifferent action as a crime.
Yet, though so well acquainted with this amiable
weakness, no individual among his parishioners chose to make
the black veil a subject of friendly remonstrance.
There was a feeling of dread, neither plainly confessed nor carefully
concealed, which caused each to shift the responsibility upon another, till at
length it was found expedient to send a deputation
of the church, in order to deal with Mr. Hooper about the mystery, before it
should grow into a scandal. Never did an embassy so ill discharge its duties.
The minister received them with friendly courtesy, but became silent, after
they were seated, leaving to his visitors the whole burden of introducing their
important business. The topic, it might be supposed, was obvious enough. There
was the black veil swathed round Mr. Hooper's forehead, and concealing every
feature above his placid mouth, on which, at times, they could perceive
the glimmering of a melancholy smile. But that piece of crape, to their
imagination, seemed to hang down before his heart, the symbol of a fearful
secret between him and them. Were the veil but cast aside, they might speak
freely of it, but not till then. Thus they sat a considerable time, speechless,
confused, and shrinking uneasily from Mr. Hooper's eye, which they felt to be
fixed upon them with an invisible glance. Finally, the deputies returned abashed
to their constituents, pronouncing the matter too weighty to be handled, except
by a council of the churches, if, indeed, it might not require a general synod
But there was one person in the village unappalled
by the awe with which the black veil had impressed all beside herself. When the
deputies returned without an explanation, or even venturing to demand one, she,
with the calm energy of her character, determined to chase away the strange
cloud that appeared to be settling round Mr. Hooper, every moment more darkly
than before. As his plighted wife, it should be her privilege to
know what the black veil concealed. At the minister's first visit, therefore,
she entered upon the subject with a direct simplicity, which made the task
easier both for him and her. After he had seated himself, she fixed her eyes steadfastly
upon the veil, but could discern nothing of the dreadful gloom that had so
overawed the multitude: it was but a double fold of crape, hanging down from
his forehead to his mouth, and slightly stirring with his breath.
"No," said she aloud, and
smiling, "there is nothing terrible in this piece of crape, except that it
hides a face which 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."
Mr. Hooper's smile glimmered faintly.
"There is an hour to come," said
he, "when all of us shall cast aside our veils. Take it not amiss,
beloved friend, if I wear this piece of crape till then."
"Your words are a mystery, too,"
returned the young lady. "Take away the 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 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!"
"What grievous affliction
hath befallen you," she earnestly inquired, "that you should thus
darken your eyes forever?"
"If it be a sign of mourning,"
replied Mr. Hooper, "I, perhaps, like most other mortals, have sorrows
dark enough to be typified by a black veil."
"But what if the world will not
believe that it is the type of an innocent sorrow?" urged Elizabeth.
"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!"
The color rose into her cheeks as she intimated
the nature of the rumors that were already abroad in the village. But Mr.
Hooper's mildness did not forsake
him. He even smiled again--that same sad smile, which always appeared like a
faint glimmering of light, proceeding from the obscurity
beneath the veil.
"If I hide my face for sorrow, there
is cause enough," he merely replied; "and if I cover it for secret
sin, what mortal might not do the same?"
And with this gentle, but unconquerable obstinacy
did he resist all her entreaties.
At length Elizabeth sat silent. For a few moments she appeared lost in thought,
considering, probably, what new methods might be tried to withdraw her lover
from so dark a fantasy, which, if it had no other meaning, was perhaps a
symptom of mental disease. Though of a firmer character than his own, the tears
rolled down her cheeks. But, in an instant, as it were, a new feeling took the
place of sorrow: her eyes were fixed insensibly
on the black veil, when, like a sudden twilight in the air, its terrors fell
around her. She arose, and stood trembling before 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 to leave the room. He rushed forward and caught her
arm.
"Have patience with me,
Elizabeth!" cried he, passionately. "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--it
is not for eternity! O! you know not how lonely I am, and how frightened, to be
alone behind my black veil. Do not leave me in this miserable obscurity
forever!"
"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 at the door, to give one long shuddering gaze, that
seemed almost to penetrate the mystery of the black veil. But,
even amid his grief, Mr. Hooper smiled to think that only a material emblem had
separated him from happiness, though the
From that time no attempts were made to
remove Mr. Hooper's black veil, or, by a direct appeal, to discover the secret
which it was supposed to hide. By persons who claimed a superiority to popular prejudice,
it was reckoned merely an eccentric
whim, such as often mingles with the sober actions of men otherwise rational,
and tinges them all with its own semblance of insanity. But with the multitude,
good Mr. Hooper was irreparably a bugbear.
He could not walk the street with any peace of mind, so conscious was he that
the gentle and timid would turn aside to avoid him, and that others would make
it a point of hardihood to throw themselves in his way. The
impertinence of the latter class compelled
him to give up his customary walk at sunset to the burial ground; for when he
leaned pensively over the gate, there would always be
faces behind the gravestones, peeping at his black veil. A fable went the
rounds that the stare of the dead people drove him thence. It grieved him, to
the very depth of his kind heart, to observe how the children fled from his
approach, breaking up their merriest sports, while his melancholy figure was
yet afar off. Their instinctive dread
caused him to feel more strongly than aught
else, that a preternatural horror was interwoven
with the threads of the black crape. In truth, his own antipathy
to the veil was known to be so great, that he never willingly passed before a
mirror, nor stooped to drink at a still fountain, lest, in its peaceful bosom,
he should be affrighted by himself. This was what
gave plausibility to the whispers, that Mr.
Hooper's conscience tortured him for some great crime too horrible to be
entirely concealed, or otherwise than so obscurely intimated.
Thus, from beneath the black veil, there rolled a cloud into the sunshine, an ambiguity
of sin or sorrow, which enveloped the poor minister, so that love or sympathy
could never reach him. It was said that ghost and fiend consorted
with him there. With self-shudderings and outward terrors, he walked
continually in its shadow, groping darkly within his own soul, or gazing
through a medium that saddened the whole world. Even the lawless wind, it was
believed, respected his dreadful secret, and never blew aside the veil. But
still good Mr. Hooper sadly smiled at the pale visages of the worldly throng as
he passed by.
Among all its bad influences, the black
veil had the one desirable effect, of making its wearer a very efficient
clergyman. By the aid of his mysterious emblem--for there was no other apparent
cause--he became a man of awful
power over souls that were in agony
for sin. His converts always regarded him with a dread peculiar to themselves, affirming,
though but figuratively, that, before he brought
them to celestial light, they had been with him behind
the black veil. Its gloom, indeed, enabled him to sympathize with all dark
affections. Dying sinners cried aloud for Mr. Hooper, and would not yield their
breath till he appeared; though ever, as he stooped to whisper consolation,
they shuddered at the veiled face so near their own. Such were the terrors of
the black veil, even when Death had bared his visage!
Strangers came long distances to attend service at his church, with the mere
idle purpose of gazing at his figure, because it was forbidden them to behold
his face. But many were made to quake ere
they departed! Once, during Governor Belcher's administration, Mr. Hooper was
appointed to preach the election sermon. Covered with his black veil, he stood
before the chief magistrate, the council, and the representatives, and wrought
so deep an impression that the legislative measures of that year were
characterized by all the gloom and piety of our earliest ancestral sway.
In this manner Mr. Hooper spent a long
life, irreproachable in outward act, yet shrouded
in dismal suspicions; kind and loving, though unloved, and dimly feared; a man
apart from men, shunned in their health and joy, but ever
summoned to their aid in mortal
anguish. As years wore on, shedding their snows above his sable
veil,
he acquired a name throughout the New England churches, and they called him
Father Hooper. Nearly all his parishioners, who were of mature age when he was
settled, had been borne away by many a funeral: he had one congregation in the
church, and a more crowded one in the churchyard; and having wrought
so late into the evening, and done his work so well, it was
now good Father Hooper's turn to rest.
Several persons were visible by the shaded
candle-light, in the death chamber of the old clergyman. Natural
connections he had none. But there was the decorously
grave, though unmoved
physician, seeking only to mitigate the last
pangs of the patient whom he could not save. There were the
deacons, and other eminently pious
members of his church. There, also, was the Reverend Mr. Clark, of Westbury, a
young and zealous divine, who had ridden in haste
to pray by the bedside of the expiring
minister. There was the nurse, no hired handmaiden of death, but one whose calm
affection had endured thus long in secrecy, in solitude,
amid the chill of age, and would not perish, even at the dying hour. Who, but
Elizabeth! And there lay the hoary head of good Father Hooper upon the death
pillow, with the black veil still swathed about his brow, and reaching down
over his face, so that each more difficult gasp of his faint breath caused it
to stir. All through life that piece of crape had hung between him and the
world: it had separated him from cheerful brotherhood and woman's love, and
kept him in that saddest of all prisons, his own heart; and still it lay upon
his face, as if to deepen the gloom of his darksome chamber, and shade him from
the sunshine of eternity.
From that time no attempts were made to
remove Mr. Hooper's black veil, or, by a direct appeal, to discover the secret
which it was supposed to hide. By persons who claimed a superiority to popular prejudice,
it was reckoned merely an eccentric
whim, such as often mingles with the sober actions of men otherwise rational,
and tinges them all with its own semblance of insanity. But with the multitude,
good Mr. Hooper was irreparably a bugbear.
He could not walk the street with any peace of mind, so conscious was he that
the gentle and timid would turn aside to avoid him, and that others would make
it a point of hardihood to throw themselves in his way. The
impertinence of the latter class compelled
him to give up his customary walk at sunset to the burial ground; for when he
leaned pensively over the gate, there would always be
faces behind the gravestones, peeping at his black veil. A fable went the
rounds that the stare of the dead people drove him thence. It grieved him, to
the very depth of his kind heart, to observe how the children fled from his
approach, breaking up their merriest sports, while his melancholy figure was
yet afar off. Their instinctive dread
caused him to feel more strongly than aught
else, that a preternatural horror was interwoven
with the threads of the black crape. In truth, his own antipathy
to the veil was known to be so great, that he never willingly passed before a
mirror, nor stooped to drink at a still fountain, lest, in its peaceful bosom,
he should be affrighted by himself. This was what
gave plausibility to the whispers, that Mr.
Hooper's conscience tortured him for some great crime too horrible to be
entirely concealed, or otherwise than so obscurely intimated.
Thus, from beneath the black veil, there rolled a cloud into the sunshine, an ambiguity
of sin or sorrow, which enveloped the poor minister, so that love or sympathy
could never reach him. It was said that ghost and fiend consorted
with him there. With self-shudderings and outward terrors, he walked
continually in its shadow, groping darkly within his own soul, or gazing
through a medium that saddened the whole world. Even the lawless wind, it was
believed, respected his dreadful secret, and never blew aside the veil. But
still good Mr. Hooper sadly smiled at the pale visages of the worldly throng as
he passed by.
Among all its bad influences, the black
veil had the one desirable effect, of making its wearer a very efficient
clergyman. By the aid of his mysterious emblem--for there was no other apparent
cause--he became a man of awful
power over souls that were in agony
for sin. His converts always regarded him with a dread peculiar to themselves, affirming,
though but figuratively, that, before he brought
them to celestial light, they had been with him behind
the black veil. Its gloom, indeed, enabled him to sympathize with all dark
affections. Dying sinners cried aloud for Mr. Hooper, and would not yield their
breath till he appeared; though ever, as he stooped to whisper consolation,
they shuddered at the veiled face so near their own. Such were the terrors of
the black veil, even when Death had bared his visage!
Strangers came long distances to attend service at his church, with the mere
idle purpose of gazing at his figure, because it was forbidden them to behold
his face. But many were made to quake ere
they departed! Once, during Governor Belcher's administration, Mr. Hooper was
appointed to preach the election sermon. Covered with his black veil, he stood
before the chief magistrate, the council, and the representatives, and wrought
so deep an impression that the legislative measures of that year were
characterized by all the gloom and piety of our earliest ancestral sway.
In this manner Mr. Hooper spent a long
life, irreproachable in outward act, yet shrouded
in dismal suspicions; kind and loving, though unloved, and dimly feared; a man
apart from men, shunned in their health and joy, but ever
summoned to their aid in mortal
anguish. As years wore on, shedding their snows above his sable
veil,
he acquired a name throughout the New England churches, and they called him
Father Hooper. Nearly all his parishioners, who were of mature age when he was
settled, had been borne away by many a funeral: he had one congregation in the
church, and a more crowded one in the churchyard; and having wrought
so late into the evening, and done his work so well, it was
now good Father Hooper's turn to rest.
Several persons were visible by the shaded
candle-light, in the death chamber of the old clergyman. Natural
connections he had none. But there was the decorously
grave, though unmoved
physician, seeking only to mitigate the last
pangs of the patient whom he could not save. There were the
deacons, and other eminently pious
members of his church. There, also, was the Reverend Mr. Clark, of Westbury, a
young and zealous divine, who had ridden in haste
to pray by the bedside of the expiring
minister. There was the nurse, no hired handmaiden of death, but one whose calm
affection had endured thus long in secrecy, in solitude,
amid the chill of age, and would not perish, even at the dying hour. Who, but
Elizabeth! And there lay the hoary head of good Father Hooper upon the death
pillow, with the black veil still swathed about his brow, and reaching down
over his face, so that each more difficult gasp of his faint breath caused it
to stir. All through life that piece of crape had hung between him and the
world: it had separated him from cheerful brotherhood and woman's love, and
kept him in that saddest of all prisons, his own heart; and still it lay upon
his face, as if to deepen the gloom of his darksome chamber, and shade him from
the sunshine of eternity.
For some time
previous, his mind had been confused, wavering doubtfully between the past and
the present, and hovering forward, as it were, at intervals, into the
indistinctness of the world to come. There had been feverish turns, which
tossed him from side to side, and wore away what little strength he had. But in
his most convulsive struggles, and in the wildest vagaries of his intellect,
when no other thought retained its sober influence, he still showed an awful
solicitude lest the black veil should slip aside. Even if his
bewildered soul could have forgotten, there was a faithful woman at his pillow,
who, with averted eyes, would have covered
that aged face, which she had last beheld in the comeliness of manhood. At
length the death-stricken old man lay quietly in the torpor
of mental and bodily exhaustion, with an imperceptible
pulse, and breath that grew fainter and fainter, except when a
long, deep, and irregular inspiration
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 at hand. Are
you ready for the lifting of the veil that shuts in time from eternity?"
Father Hooper at
first replied merely by a feeble motion of his head; then, apprehensive,
perhaps, that his meaning might be doubtful, he exerted
himself to speak.
"Yea," said
he, in faint accents, "my soul hath a patient weariness until that veil be
lifted."
"And is it fitting," resumed
the Reverend Mr. Clark, "that a man so given to prayer, of such a
blameless example, holy in deed and thought, so far as mortal judgment may
pronounce; is it fitting that a father in the church should leave a shadow on
his memory, that may seem to blacken a life so pure? I pray you, my venerable
brother, let not this thing be! Suffer us to be gladdened by your triumphant aspect
as you go to your reward. Before the veil of eternity be lifted, let me cast
aside this black veil from your face!"
And thus speaking,
the Reverend Mr. Clark bent forward to reveal the mystery of so many years.
But, exerting a sudden energy, that made all the beholders stand aghast,
Father Hooper snatched both his hands from beneath the bedclothes, and pressed them
strongly on the black veil, resolute
to struggle, 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 horrible crime
upon your soul are you now passing to the judgment?"
Father Hooper's
breath heaved; it rattled in his throat; but, with a mighty effort, grasping
forward with his hands, he caught hold of life, and 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, while the black veil hung down, awful at that last moment,
in the gathered terrors of a lifetime. And yet the faint, sad smile, so often
there, now seemed to glimmer from its obscurity,
and linger on Father Hooper's lips.
"Why do you
tremble at me alone?" cried he, turning his veiled face round the circle
of pale spectators. "Tremble also at each other! Have men avoided me, and
women shown no pity, and children screamed and fled, only for my black veil?
What, but the mystery which it obscurely
typifies, has made this piece of crape so awful? When the friend
shows his inmost heart to his friend; the lover to his best beloved; when man
does not vainly shrink from the eye of his Creator, loathsomely treasuring up
the secret of his sin; then deem me a monster, for the symbol 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, Father Hooper fell back upon his
pillow, a veiled corpse, with a faint smile lingering on the lips. Still
veiled, they laid him in his coffin, and a veiled corpse they bore him to the
grave. The grass of many years has sprung up and withered on that grave, the
burial stone is moss-grown, and good Mr. Hooper's face is dust; but awful is
still the thought that it mouldered
beneath the Black Veil!
“The
Minister’s Black Veil” by Nathaniel Hawthorne 1) Read Hawthorne’s short story; then
choose your assignment: 1) A or B
(handouts) 2) C or D or E or H 3) F or G
or I
You will
need to complete a total of 3 items.
A.
Vocabulary:
Write a sentence from which one can determine the
meaning of the word from the context for each of the 10 following words
underlined in the text.
swath, abstracted, melancholy, to fain, hoary,
imbued, to venture, affliction, entreaties, to consort
|
B.
Respond to 10
of the “Minister’s” discussion questions in complete sentences, incorporating
textual evidence. (handout)
|
C.
Explain the
following quote in a minimum of 100 words, including how it relates
specifically to the character of Mr. Hooper: “In this manner Mr. Hooper spent
a long life, irreproachable in outward act, yet shrouded in dismal
suspicions; kind and loving, though unloved, and dimly feared; a man apart from men.
|
D.
Explain the
following quote and what it reveal about the character of the minister:
“There is an hour to come when all of us shall cast
aside our veils”. This must be a minimum of 100 words.
|
E.
Respond to the
following in a paragraph of a minimum of 100 words: What is the moral lesson
imparted by the wearing of the veil?
|
F.
How is the
theme of alienation and loneliness developed in the short story? Respond in a minimum of 150 words.
|
G.
Look closely at
Hironymous Bosch’s “Seven Deadly Sins”
Choose five of the scenes and write a minimum of 25
words each, describing how they relate to the seven deadly sins. Your evidence
is the image.
|
H, What is hypocrisy and how does the Pilgrim’s
strict moral code foster suspicion and distrust? Respond to this in a minimum
of 100 words.
|
I.
Choose one of
the seven deadly sins and write a 150 word fictional anecdote on how this is
exemplified in life.
|
Name________________________________-
Discussion
questions for “The Minister’s Black Veil” by Nathaniel Hawthorne. Please
respond on lined-paper.
1. How does Hawthorne describe the veil?
2. How does wearing the veil affect the
funeral and the wedding?
3. What is the significance of the topic
of the first sermon Mr. Hooper gives with the veil on?
4. What is Elizabeth’s relationship to
Hooper? What eventually happens to her?
5. How does the world outside react to
the veil?
6. What is with Mr. Hooper’s “sad” or
“melancholy smile? Hawthorne mentions
this many times. Why is he smiling like this and so frequently?
7. How do you think the community would
have reacted if a non-authority figure had worn the veil?
8. A parable is moral or spiritual
lesson. In what way is “The Minister’s Black Veil” a parable?
Here is the list of the seven deadly sins. I will post the Bosch images on Friday.
GLUTTONY
PRIDE
ENVY
WRATH
SLOTH
Greed or Avarice
LUST
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