His Darksome Chamber:
Looking Through a Glass Darkly
in Nathaniel Hawthorne’s “The Minister’s Black Veil.”
In his inquiry into Puritanical New England “The Minister’s Black Veil,” nineteenth century American author Nathaniel Hawthorne considers the appropriate way one should present his private faith to the outside world. In his implementation of an enigmatic, devout protagonist, Hawthorne suggests that interpersonal relationships inherently function as a barrier between the self and the divine, and that to live a virtuous life is to partition oneself from the material world, as to interpret the world merely in a literal way is to fundamentally misunderstand it.
From the outset, “The Minister’s Black Veil” places an emphasis on the relationship between subjective, individual perception and interpersonal relationships. Hawthorne introduces the story’s setting, stating, “Spruce bachelors looked sidelong at the pretty maidens, and fancied that the Sabbath sunshine made them prettier than on week-days” (66). Here, Hawthorne constructs a world that is at once superficial--the “[s]pruce bachelors” eye the “pretty maidens” purely on the basis that they are pretty--as well as a world that is subject to individual perception: note that the bachelor’s perception is filtered through their eyes--they “looked sidelong” at the maidens. In addition, that the “Sabbath sunshine” influences so greatly the appearances of the maidens suggests that the world of “The Minister’s Black Veil” is one of a society organized around a multitude of subjective viewpoints that subsequently impact how the aforementioned individuals conduct themselves.
When Parson Hooper enters the scene exhibiting a “black veil” (67), however, the townspeople experience a collective impression of anxiety regarding the perplexing occurrence. Hawthorne describes the reaction: “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” (68-69). Here, Hawthorne illustrates an opposition in the crowd of people. Although “each member of the congregation” is disturbed by the “awful veil,” and this feeling is non-discriminate; it impedes on the good will of both the “most innocent girl” and the “man of hardened breast,” the rationale for this sentiment is unique to each--that the fear is that Hooper had “discovered their hoarded iniquity of deed or thought” suggests not only the inevitability of sinful behavior from the people of the town, but also that the fearful reaction is at once subjective and private. Though the definition of a “pretty maiden” might be subjective, then, the fear that the veil provokes is not: is it rather the rationale is unique to the person experiencing that fear.
When describing the veil, it becomes clear that Hooper is withstanding a similar subjective experience. The narrator describes how “on a nearer view, the veil 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, father than to give a darkened aspect to all living and inanimate things” (67). Though the townspeople are not reserved in expressing their impressions of Hooper’s veil, the narrator here theorizes what Hooper himself might be experiencing behind the veil. He speculates that the veil does not “intercept his sight”--or blind him, but rather “give a darkened aspect to all living and inanimate things.” The veil itself does not have an effect of removing what is in front of it; rather the opposite: the veil camouflages the material world, (or, perhaps, reveals its true nature. But more on that later).
This notion of disguise recalls a line in First Corinthians of the New Testament which states, “For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known” (1 Cor 13:12). This passage makes reference to the inherent separation of the self from divinity by way of Original Sin: the “glass” in question is both a lens of obscurity and a mirror. In order to see clearly, or “face to face,” one must first surpass the self--the reflection of the inherently sinful being--which First Corinthians posits is only made possible through death. Hooper’s veil, then, essentially enforces for Hooper the same method of self-reflection as is present in the aforementioned passage. Through it, he does not allow himself to redeem himself from the unavoidable sin that exists within him through the inherent predisposition of man toward immortality due to Eve’s eating from the tree of knowledge in Genesis 1.
Not only does Hooper’s veil mirror his own supposed sinful nature, but the sinful nature of others. After Hooper gives a sermon, the narrator explains that “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” (68). The relationship between the minister’s black veil and “secret sin” is here referenced directly, and indicates that a recognition of one's inevitable sinful nature requires a novel kind of inwardness; a revelation of the so-called “secret.” He further explains that the secret sin “would fain conceal from our own consciousness,” which indicates that an understanding of such sin is never immediately apparent, yet “the Omniscient can detect them,” and so a lack of ability to become privy to that sin can have dire consequences.
Indeed, those without a physical black veil to wear display one in a figurative sense. The narrator considers Hooper’s impression of those who look judgmentally upon him, and posits that “perhaps the pale-faced congregation was almost as fearful a sight to the minister, as the black veil to them” (68). Though the obscurity and ambiguity of Hooper’s black veil proves ominous to the people of the congregation, the peoples’ sedentary nature when it comes to the self-acknowledgement required to forge their own mask is perhaps equally, if not more so, terrifying. By describing the congregation as “pale-faced,” Hawthorne foreshadows death imagery that he implements later in “The Minister’s Black Veil,” as well as making apparent the fear that is as physically apparent as Hooper’s veil itself. It seems, then, that a face that is not obscured indicates a lack of acknowledgement of the sinful nature that is implicit in the human state, and thus an inability to properly repent in one's mortal life.
At one point, a sexton acknowledges that it is precisely the obscurity of Hooper’s face, in particular, that is so frightening to the townspeople. He speculates, “I can’t really feel as if good Mr. Hooper’s face was behind that piece of crape,” while an old woman agrees, “He has changed himself into something awful, only by hiding his face” (67). The fear of Hooper, then, comes not from fear of what lies underneath the veil, but rather the uncertainty that anything does. The sexton admits that he cannot even picture Hooper’s face “behind that piece of crape,” while the old woman takes it a step further by arguing that obscuring the face must then reveal “something awful.” This reaction points to an inherent comfort with the human state that has been altered by Hooper removing something that makes him unmistakably human. The observation, too, indicates an unwillingness for man to accept any kind of life beyond a mortal one, which is at odds with the Christian ideals of resurrection through the afterlife. Recall, too, that the divine state is not implicitly human, but rather human and something else.
Part of what about Hooper’s veil invokes fear in the people is its isolating nature. One of the women in the town declares, “I would not be alone with him for the world. I wonder he is not afraid to be alone with himself!” (70). Here, an observer considers the daunting notion of being alone with oneself. Much of “The Minister’s Black Veil” places an emphasis on the heavily communal nature of Puritanical New England, and, based on this and the comment made by the woman, it can be concluded that that is due, in part, to the knowledge that, when alone with oneself, one will discover that they are not on the righteous path, and, in addition, that it is likely impossible to be. Based on Hooper’s actions, it can be assumed that the only righteous path is to spend one’s life deliberately peering through a glass darkly in reaction to his predisposition toward original sin.
Hooper’s actions throughout “The Minister’s Black Veil” can also be understood as acts of service, as the members of the community perceive “that piece of crape, to their imagination, seemed to hang down before his heart, the symbol of a fearful secret between him and them” (73). That the black veil enacts a symbolic representation of a “fearful secret between him and them” suggests that the black veil is not only causing Hooper to see through a glass darkly, but also the townspeople: they see Hooper through the glass, as they are left to merely wonder what is beneath the veil, but they also conjure their own reflection in that they are left to wonder what their own fearful secret might comprise of. Hooper expresses this sentiment more explicitly when discussing the veil with his wife, Elizabeth. He tells her, “This dismal shade must separate me from the world: even you, Elizabeth, can never come behind it!’” (74). Here, Hooper explains in his own language that the veil not only separates himself “from the world,” but the world from him.
As the narrative moves forward, Hooper’s actions confirm that his dogma promises clarity of vision--literal and figurative--after death. He visits a woman who has just died, and the narrator explains, “As he stopped, the veil hung straight down from his forehead, so that, if her eyes had not been closed for ever, the dead maiden might have seen his face” (70). Here, Hoopers’ physical movement of looking down on someone, as you can only do when they are dead, is the only gesture that allows his veil to depart from his face, as “the veil hung straight down from his forehead.” This implies that death acts as a lifting of the curtain, the breaking of the dark glass; as 1 Corinthians foretells: “but then face to face.” Hooper and the dead maiden are, indeed, face to face; and only face to face because she has died.
In fact, Hooper does, once, encounter a literal dark glass as Corinthians described. The narrator explains how, “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 on the carpet--and rushed forth into the darkness. For the earth, too, had on her Black Veil” (72). The mirror is labeled, here, a “looking-glass,” as it takes on a duel meaning for Hooper: on the one hand, it reveals his own reflection, and on the other hand it reveals, through that, the state of the world, (note that Corinthians describes the act of looking into a mirror as also looking “through” it). When looking in the mirror, Hooper not only sees the black veil, but with it “his own spirit.” The mentioning of his spirit indicates the involved, metaphorical nature of the veil: it is not just an article of clothing, only partially so. When he discovers the nature of his own spirit as revealed through the black veils, Hooper’s lips “grew white,” which is a state that mimics death, and, furthermore, he “rushes forth into the darkness,” which can, too, be understood as an image of death.
“The Minister’s Black Veil” continues to foreshadow death when a man declares to his wife, “The black veil, though it covers only our pastor’s face, throws its influence over his whole person, and makes him ghost-like from head to foot” (70). Here, it becomes clear that, to the public, not only does the black veil’s obscuring of Hooper’s face transform his being, but that transformation extends to a figurative level, as it “throws its influence over his whole person, and makes him ghost-like from head to food.” The man’s specific allusion to a “ghost,” in addition, draws the connection directly between the people’s perception of Hooper and their perception of death.
In the final moments of his life, Hooper realizes his divine disposition. He tells the people that surround his deathbed: “It is but a mortal veil--it is not for eternity! Oh! 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 for ever!” (74). On the dawn of death, Hooper outwardly experiences his first moment of weakness in “The Minister’s Black Veil.” His proclamation of fear: “You know not how lonely I am, and how frightened to be alone behind my black veil” recalls a moment in the Bible’s Gospel According to Matthew as Jesus Christ is mounted on the cross and awaits an imminent death. He exclaims, in a moment that is wholly uncharacteristic, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” (which means ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’)” (Mt. 27:46). Here, Jesus shows an unprecedented and uncharacteristic moment of weakness which ultimately enacts his humanness and bridges the gap between his humanness and divinity. Hooper imploring “Do not leave me in this miserable obscurity for ever!” essentially functions in a similar vein: up until this point, Hooper has been an elusive, mysterious character that might have been a creature of complete divinity, yet in his admission of fear, becomes a Christ-like figure who is at once human and divine.
Hawthorne ends “The Minister’s Black Veil” with a remark upon the scope of the influence of the veil itself. On his deathbed, Hooper proclaims, “When the friend shows his inmost heart to his friend; the lover to the 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!” (79) Here, Hooper describes the revelation of the “inmost heart” as analogous to a “man who does not vainly shrink from the eye of his Creator,” and subsequently suggests that it is indeed his black veil that has allowed him to accomplish this. In addition, that “on every visage a Black Veil,” reveals that it is not only Hooper’s inmost heart that has been revealed, but every heart he looks upon.
Hawthorne, then, uses an artifact as allegory to illustrate the correct way to position oneself toward divinity. He argues that, in order to live correctly within the breadth of Christianity, one must be not only looking constantly inward, but also separating himself from all that surrounds him, and, to do this, must peer through a glass that also functions as a mirror. In doing so, he can not only understand the temporality of the corporeal world, but also recognize his own flaws by seeing everything else through the visage of his own inherent imperfection. Hawthorne does not make it clear, however, whether Hooper succeeds in his inclination toward “true” Christianity, as the story is told from the perspective of an onlooker. It might be argued that Hooper’s black veil is inherently paradoxical: it incites fear within the people, and so they would be less inclined to wear one without themselves, but to look unto it without fear would be to defeat the purpose altogether.
From the outset, “The Minister’s Black Veil” places an emphasis on the relationship between subjective, individual perception and interpersonal relationships. Hawthorne introduces the story’s setting, stating, “Spruce bachelors looked sidelong at the pretty maidens, and fancied that the Sabbath sunshine made them prettier than on week-days” (66). Here, Hawthorne constructs a world that is at once superficial--the “[s]pruce bachelors” eye the “pretty maidens” purely on the basis that they are pretty--as well as a world that is subject to individual perception: note that the bachelor’s perception is filtered through their eyes--they “looked sidelong” at the maidens. In addition, that the “Sabbath sunshine” influences so greatly the appearances of the maidens suggests that the world of “The Minister’s Black Veil” is one of a society organized around a multitude of subjective viewpoints that subsequently impact how the aforementioned individuals conduct themselves.
When Parson Hooper enters the scene exhibiting a “black veil” (67), however, the townspeople experience a collective impression of anxiety regarding the perplexing occurrence. Hawthorne describes the reaction: “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” (68-69). Here, Hawthorne illustrates an opposition in the crowd of people. Although “each member of the congregation” is disturbed by the “awful veil,” and this feeling is non-discriminate; it impedes on the good will of both the “most innocent girl” and the “man of hardened breast,” the rationale for this sentiment is unique to each--that the fear is that Hooper had “discovered their hoarded iniquity of deed or thought” suggests not only the inevitability of sinful behavior from the people of the town, but also that the fearful reaction is at once subjective and private. Though the definition of a “pretty maiden” might be subjective, then, the fear that the veil provokes is not: is it rather the rationale is unique to the person experiencing that fear.
When describing the veil, it becomes clear that Hooper is withstanding a similar subjective experience. The narrator describes how “on a nearer view, the veil 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, father than to give a darkened aspect to all living and inanimate things” (67). Though the townspeople are not reserved in expressing their impressions of Hooper’s veil, the narrator here theorizes what Hooper himself might be experiencing behind the veil. He speculates that the veil does not “intercept his sight”--or blind him, but rather “give a darkened aspect to all living and inanimate things.” The veil itself does not have an effect of removing what is in front of it; rather the opposite: the veil camouflages the material world, (or, perhaps, reveals its true nature. But more on that later).
This notion of disguise recalls a line in First Corinthians of the New Testament which states, “For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known” (1 Cor 13:12). This passage makes reference to the inherent separation of the self from divinity by way of Original Sin: the “glass” in question is both a lens of obscurity and a mirror. In order to see clearly, or “face to face,” one must first surpass the self--the reflection of the inherently sinful being--which First Corinthians posits is only made possible through death. Hooper’s veil, then, essentially enforces for Hooper the same method of self-reflection as is present in the aforementioned passage. Through it, he does not allow himself to redeem himself from the unavoidable sin that exists within him through the inherent predisposition of man toward immortality due to Eve’s eating from the tree of knowledge in Genesis 1.
Not only does Hooper’s veil mirror his own supposed sinful nature, but the sinful nature of others. After Hooper gives a sermon, the narrator explains that “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” (68). The relationship between the minister’s black veil and “secret sin” is here referenced directly, and indicates that a recognition of one's inevitable sinful nature requires a novel kind of inwardness; a revelation of the so-called “secret.” He further explains that the secret sin “would fain conceal from our own consciousness,” which indicates that an understanding of such sin is never immediately apparent, yet “the Omniscient can detect them,” and so a lack of ability to become privy to that sin can have dire consequences.
Indeed, those without a physical black veil to wear display one in a figurative sense. The narrator considers Hooper’s impression of those who look judgmentally upon him, and posits that “perhaps the pale-faced congregation was almost as fearful a sight to the minister, as the black veil to them” (68). Though the obscurity and ambiguity of Hooper’s black veil proves ominous to the people of the congregation, the peoples’ sedentary nature when it comes to the self-acknowledgement required to forge their own mask is perhaps equally, if not more so, terrifying. By describing the congregation as “pale-faced,” Hawthorne foreshadows death imagery that he implements later in “The Minister’s Black Veil,” as well as making apparent the fear that is as physically apparent as Hooper’s veil itself. It seems, then, that a face that is not obscured indicates a lack of acknowledgement of the sinful nature that is implicit in the human state, and thus an inability to properly repent in one's mortal life.
At one point, a sexton acknowledges that it is precisely the obscurity of Hooper’s face, in particular, that is so frightening to the townspeople. He speculates, “I can’t really feel as if good Mr. Hooper’s face was behind that piece of crape,” while an old woman agrees, “He has changed himself into something awful, only by hiding his face” (67). The fear of Hooper, then, comes not from fear of what lies underneath the veil, but rather the uncertainty that anything does. The sexton admits that he cannot even picture Hooper’s face “behind that piece of crape,” while the old woman takes it a step further by arguing that obscuring the face must then reveal “something awful.” This reaction points to an inherent comfort with the human state that has been altered by Hooper removing something that makes him unmistakably human. The observation, too, indicates an unwillingness for man to accept any kind of life beyond a mortal one, which is at odds with the Christian ideals of resurrection through the afterlife. Recall, too, that the divine state is not implicitly human, but rather human and something else.
Part of what about Hooper’s veil invokes fear in the people is its isolating nature. One of the women in the town declares, “I would not be alone with him for the world. I wonder he is not afraid to be alone with himself!” (70). Here, an observer considers the daunting notion of being alone with oneself. Much of “The Minister’s Black Veil” places an emphasis on the heavily communal nature of Puritanical New England, and, based on this and the comment made by the woman, it can be concluded that that is due, in part, to the knowledge that, when alone with oneself, one will discover that they are not on the righteous path, and, in addition, that it is likely impossible to be. Based on Hooper’s actions, it can be assumed that the only righteous path is to spend one’s life deliberately peering through a glass darkly in reaction to his predisposition toward original sin.
Hooper’s actions throughout “The Minister’s Black Veil” can also be understood as acts of service, as the members of the community perceive “that piece of crape, to their imagination, seemed to hang down before his heart, the symbol of a fearful secret between him and them” (73). That the black veil enacts a symbolic representation of a “fearful secret between him and them” suggests that the black veil is not only causing Hooper to see through a glass darkly, but also the townspeople: they see Hooper through the glass, as they are left to merely wonder what is beneath the veil, but they also conjure their own reflection in that they are left to wonder what their own fearful secret might comprise of. Hooper expresses this sentiment more explicitly when discussing the veil with his wife, Elizabeth. He tells her, “This dismal shade must separate me from the world: even you, Elizabeth, can never come behind it!’” (74). Here, Hooper explains in his own language that the veil not only separates himself “from the world,” but the world from him.
As the narrative moves forward, Hooper’s actions confirm that his dogma promises clarity of vision--literal and figurative--after death. He visits a woman who has just died, and the narrator explains, “As he stopped, the veil hung straight down from his forehead, so that, if her eyes had not been closed for ever, the dead maiden might have seen his face” (70). Here, Hoopers’ physical movement of looking down on someone, as you can only do when they are dead, is the only gesture that allows his veil to depart from his face, as “the veil hung straight down from his forehead.” This implies that death acts as a lifting of the curtain, the breaking of the dark glass; as 1 Corinthians foretells: “but then face to face.” Hooper and the dead maiden are, indeed, face to face; and only face to face because she has died.
In fact, Hooper does, once, encounter a literal dark glass as Corinthians described. The narrator explains how, “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 on the carpet--and rushed forth into the darkness. For the earth, too, had on her Black Veil” (72). The mirror is labeled, here, a “looking-glass,” as it takes on a duel meaning for Hooper: on the one hand, it reveals his own reflection, and on the other hand it reveals, through that, the state of the world, (note that Corinthians describes the act of looking into a mirror as also looking “through” it). When looking in the mirror, Hooper not only sees the black veil, but with it “his own spirit.” The mentioning of his spirit indicates the involved, metaphorical nature of the veil: it is not just an article of clothing, only partially so. When he discovers the nature of his own spirit as revealed through the black veils, Hooper’s lips “grew white,” which is a state that mimics death, and, furthermore, he “rushes forth into the darkness,” which can, too, be understood as an image of death.
“The Minister’s Black Veil” continues to foreshadow death when a man declares to his wife, “The black veil, though it covers only our pastor’s face, throws its influence over his whole person, and makes him ghost-like from head to foot” (70). Here, it becomes clear that, to the public, not only does the black veil’s obscuring of Hooper’s face transform his being, but that transformation extends to a figurative level, as it “throws its influence over his whole person, and makes him ghost-like from head to food.” The man’s specific allusion to a “ghost,” in addition, draws the connection directly between the people’s perception of Hooper and their perception of death.
In the final moments of his life, Hooper realizes his divine disposition. He tells the people that surround his deathbed: “It is but a mortal veil--it is not for eternity! Oh! 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 for ever!” (74). On the dawn of death, Hooper outwardly experiences his first moment of weakness in “The Minister’s Black Veil.” His proclamation of fear: “You know not how lonely I am, and how frightened to be alone behind my black veil” recalls a moment in the Bible’s Gospel According to Matthew as Jesus Christ is mounted on the cross and awaits an imminent death. He exclaims, in a moment that is wholly uncharacteristic, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” (which means ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’)” (Mt. 27:46). Here, Jesus shows an unprecedented and uncharacteristic moment of weakness which ultimately enacts his humanness and bridges the gap between his humanness and divinity. Hooper imploring “Do not leave me in this miserable obscurity for ever!” essentially functions in a similar vein: up until this point, Hooper has been an elusive, mysterious character that might have been a creature of complete divinity, yet in his admission of fear, becomes a Christ-like figure who is at once human and divine.
Hawthorne ends “The Minister’s Black Veil” with a remark upon the scope of the influence of the veil itself. On his deathbed, Hooper proclaims, “When the friend shows his inmost heart to his friend; the lover to the 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!” (79) Here, Hooper describes the revelation of the “inmost heart” as analogous to a “man who does not vainly shrink from the eye of his Creator,” and subsequently suggests that it is indeed his black veil that has allowed him to accomplish this. In addition, that “on every visage a Black Veil,” reveals that it is not only Hooper’s inmost heart that has been revealed, but every heart he looks upon.
Hawthorne, then, uses an artifact as allegory to illustrate the correct way to position oneself toward divinity. He argues that, in order to live correctly within the breadth of Christianity, one must be not only looking constantly inward, but also separating himself from all that surrounds him, and, to do this, must peer through a glass that also functions as a mirror. In doing so, he can not only understand the temporality of the corporeal world, but also recognize his own flaws by seeing everything else through the visage of his own inherent imperfection. Hawthorne does not make it clear, however, whether Hooper succeeds in his inclination toward “true” Christianity, as the story is told from the perspective of an onlooker. It might be argued that Hooper’s black veil is inherently paradoxical: it incites fear within the people, and so they would be less inclined to wear one without themselves, but to look unto it without fear would be to defeat the purpose altogether.
