684 The Minister's Black Veil by Nathaniel Hawthorne (with Mike Palindrome)

Summary

The History of Literature Podcast
Episode 684: "The Minister's Black Veil" by Nathaniel Hawthorne (with Mike Palindrome)
Release Date: March 6, 2025

Introduction

In Episode 684 of The History of Literature Podcast, host Jacke Wilson delves into Nathaniel Hawthorne's classic short story, "The Minister's Black Veil," accompanied by guest Mike Palindrome. This episode explores the profound themes of humility, repentance, and the enigmatic nature of human sin as portrayed through Hawthorne's compelling narrative.

Listener Feedback

Early in the episode, Jacke shares a heartfelt email from a listener named Claire ([01:28] – [04:51]). Claire expresses appreciation for the podcast's insightful discussions, highlighting how past episodes, particularly the one on Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment, provided her solace amidst a turbulent political climate. She underscores the podcast's role in fostering empathy and hope, resonating deeply with her personal struggles.

Notable Quote:
Claire writes, "Feeling awe and joy was the absolute last thing I expected. Thank you, thank you, and thank you." ([03:30])

Host’s Reflections on Literature

Jacke articulates the noble pursuit of literature as an act of empathy and personal betterment, stating, "Because we want to be better people." ([04:53]) He emphasizes that literature uniquely immerses readers into the inner lives of characters, fostering a deep understanding and kindness that is increasingly scarce in contemporary political discourse.

Introduction to "The Minister's Black Veil"

Jacke introduces Nathaniel Hawthorne's "The Minister's Black Veil," a story set in 18th-century New England. The narrative centers on Reverend Mr. Hooper, who suddenly begins wearing a black veil that obscures the upper half of his face during church services. This mysterious act unsettlingly affects his congregation, sparking rumors and fear.

Notable Quote:
Jacke poses the central question, "What dark secrets lay behind this decision? Will we ever know? And what will happen to all of these people?" ([01:38])

Reading of the Story

The episode features a dramatic reading of "The Minister's Black Veil" by Jacke Wilson, bringing Hawthorne's evocative prose to life. The story meticulously describes the reactions of the Milford community as they grapple with the parson's inexplicable veil, highlighting themes of hidden sin and societal judgment.

Discussion & Analysis

After the reading, Jacke and Mike engage in a deep analysis of the story's themes and characters.

1. Relentlessness of Hawthorne’s Narrative
   Mike admires Hawthorne's unwavering commitment to maintaining the veil's mystery, noting, "Hawthorne didn’t think readers are going to demand that I have this character take off the veil." ([52:51])

2. Symbolism and Community Impact
   The veil symbolizes the hidden sins each individual carries, fostering a sense of shared human fallibility. Jacke reflects on the story's critique of societal norms and the isolation that stems from veiled secrets.

   Notable Quote:
   Mike observes, "What grievous affliction hath befallen you?," drawing attention to the communal assumptions about individual morality. ([65:17])

3. Character Dynamics and Motivations
   The discussion highlights Reverend Hooper's internal struggle and the community's inability to understand his motives. They explore whether Hooper's actions stem from genuine humility or an obsessive need to distance himself from others.

   Notable Quote:
   Jacke muses, "Is he actually religious? Or is he taking it to his own personal narcissistic level?" ([75:37])

4. Literary Influences and Comparisons
   The hosts compare Hawthorne's work to other literary pieces, such as Flannery O'Connor's stories and Henry James's narratives, appreciating Hawthorne's myth-like storytelling that resonates with contemporary readers.

5. Modern Relevance
   Jacke connects the story's themes to modern societal behaviors, likening the veil to contemporary phenomena like COVID masks, which create physical and psychological barriers between individuals.

   Notable Quote:
   Mike states, "In a way, it's like the veil, except when I see someone wearing a Covid mask, I know why they're wearing it." ([73:19])

6. Narrative Structure and Reader Engagement
   Both hosts commend Hawthorne's ability to sustain mystery throughout the story, keeping readers engaged without providing explicit explanations, thereby deepening the narrative's impact.

   Notable Quote:
   Mike remarks, "It's almost like the mystery is at the center. And what we see that changes are the things around it, the people around it." ([53:18])

Conclusion

In wrapping up the discussion, Jacke and Mike affirm the enduring power of Hawthorne's "The Minister's Black Veil." They appreciate its rich symbolism, complex character portrayals, and its incisive critique of societal norms regarding sin and human imperfection. The episode underscores literature's role in fostering empathy and introspection, inviting listeners to reflect on their own concealed truths.

Final Notable Quote:
Mike concludes, "I like it. Even as a secular story, the idea that we're all kind of mysteries to one another." ([78:09])

Looking Ahead

The episode concludes with teasers for upcoming content, including discussions on Thomas Kyd’s influence on Shakespeare, explorations of Emily Dickinson's poetry with musical accompaniments, and analyses of other literary figures and works.

Support and Engagement

Listeners are encouraged to support the podcast through Patreon or donations and to engage with the community on the podcast's website and social media platforms.

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This comprehensive summary captures the essence of Episode 684, highlighting key discussions, thematic explorations, and insightful reflections on Nathaniel Hawthorne's "The Minister's Black Veil."

Transcript

[Jack Wilson]

The History of Literature Podcast is a member of the podglomerate Network and Lit Hub Radio.

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[Mike Palindrome]

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[Jack Wilson]

Hello, today on the podcast, a story of humility and repentance that shades into accusations, aggression and creepiness.

[Mike Palindrome]

The Minister's Black Veil by Nathaniel Hawthorne.

[Jack Wilson]

With Mike Palindrome today on the History of Literature. Okay, here we go. Welcome to the podcast. What happens when a minister, the leader of the community, shows up in church one day wearing a veil that covers covers the top half of his face? The congregation is unsettled, to say the least. They await an explanation that never comes. They await the removal of the veil, but that doesn't come either. Not during the service or or afterward, or the next day or the one after that. He's just wearing it now. How will his parishioners, who believe themselves to be sinners, by the way, all of them deeply, how will they respond? What dark secrets lay behind this decision? Will we ever know? And what will happen to all of these people? It's a fascinating little story by Nathaniel Hawthorne, who knew how to go deep into the hearts of Americans. As with the Scarlet Letter, he's gone into the remote or remoter New England past, where a man named Joseph Moody actually did such a thing in the 18th century. Handkerchief Moody, they called him. We'll talk about that with Mike. We're going to hear the full story. The Minister's Black Veil today, and we'll have Mike Palindrome here to discuss all of it. But first, let's hear an email from a listener. This one comes from Claire, who's who writes Holy cow. I stumbled across your podcast the Crime and Punishment Dostoyevsky episode in hopes of distracting myself from our turbulent political environment. Though the episode was from 2023, I found it particularly relevant for today. One of the themes you considered men guided by hubris, mistakenly believing they are such glorified examples of greatness. The laws of morality and physics do not pertain to them in this holier than thou posture. They believe that to make the world better, others must sacrifice their lives and their safety. I couldn't help but hear the I alone can fix this or there will be pain drum of the Trump Musk anthem and a shout out to the incredible letter you read from Dostoevsky to his brother after surviving the firing squad. What an inspiration for all of us. I'm going to find it and send it to people who I know are losing faith. Thank you for making my life so much better and richer. For stumbling across your podcast. Feeling awe and joy was the absolute last thing I expected. Thank you, thank you, and thank you. Got choked up a little bit there at the end. Well, Claire, thank you. And let me just say that this is exactly what I'm hoping to do, what my goal is for these episodes. You found one from 2023 and I'm.

[Mike Palindrome]

Glad it was helpful to you.

[Jack Wilson]

But Even here in 2025, I'm planning to avoid politics, even as it creeps in around me and I'm caught in its coils, squeezed in its snake like grip. Acts of resistance are called for in real life, but one such act of resistance, which is the one we're going to employ here on the podcast, is to keep empathy and hope alive. Literature may or may not be hopeful. It depends on the writer and the work. But the act of reading is hopeful, I think. Why do we pick up books we read? Because we want to be better people. And where literature reigns supreme, maybe above any other art form, is empathy. You can be on the outside looking.

[Mike Palindrome]

In when it comes to paintings, statues, films, even music.

[Jack Wilson]

But in literature there is no outside looking in. You're on the inside, always on the inside looking in. That's how novels work. In particular, we are in an author's thoughts conveyed by his or her words, and we're almost always asked to see things through a viewpoint that is not our own. It's good practice for doing the same thing in real life.

[Mike Palindrome]

It keeps us humble.

[Jack Wilson]

It keeps us kind and charitable. It keeps us respectful of the humanity of others. It's essential to being a good human being. And it's undervalued in our political world. Our politics today says, well, that's weak.

[Mike Palindrome]

That's for suckers and losers. There's nothing that makes selfish people angrier.

[Jack Wilson]

Than to see others who are not being selfish. It drives them insane because they know they're wrong. They hate counterexamples because it makes them feel guilty. And I'm not here to preach or to call for any political action or anything like that. That's not going to be Jack Wilson on the History of Literature podcast. But I'm here to say for those of you looking for a reprieve from that world, for a reminder that there are people in the world who care about other people, who value seeing the world through the eyes of another, who can go back to kindergarten or Sunday school. Values of things like sharing and cooperation and loving one's neighbor and doing unto others as you would have them do unto you. Well, literature hones your skills for that. And the podcast, I hope, will be a reminder that I and all the other listeners, there are millions of you every year, that we all still care about this, too. Maybe we're on an island, but it's our island. And the haters aren't invited. Or they are invited as long as they leave the hate behind. Okay, speaking of an island, here's a man who put himself on an island through his extremely curious behavior. And no, I'm not talking about Mike Palindrome, although you might say he's done that too. He's on an island, literally. He's one of Melville's isolatos living on the isle of Manhattan. But I'm talking about the titular minister in this story, he of the Black Veil, which we will kick off now with Mike Palindrome. Okay, joining me now is our old friend Mike Palindrome, who is the president.

[Mike Palindrome]

Of the Literature Supporters Club. When I first met him, he was.

[Jack Wilson]

A spruce bachelor, although I don't remember.

[Mike Palindrome]

Him looking sidelong at the pretty maidens. Probably because he was too busy taking astrophysics. Mike Palindrome, welcome back to the History of Literature.

[Father Hooper]

Hey, Jack.

[Mike Palindrome]

So your career in astrophysics, I guess it was launched back there at the University of Chicago, is that right?

[Father Hooper]

I guess. Launched and landed.

[Mike Palindrome]

Launched and landed in the course of a single semester.

[Jack Wilson]

Or a year.

[Mike Palindrome]

Maybe it was a year long course. Okay, before we jump into Nathaniel Hawthorne and the Minister's Black Veil, you've been rereading some Martin Amos, in particular, London Fields. Is this the, like, the third or fourth time for you?

[Father Hooper]

This is the third and to be honest, I didn't think I'd be rereading it for, in my lifetime because. Yeah, for various reasons. But a friend of mine, a transplanted American in liver, living now in Liverpool, married to an Italian, raising a family there, you know, younger than us, so he, he said that he wanted to read a Martin Amos novel and so he was going to read Money, which is a favorite of a colleague of his.

[Jack Wilson]

Yeah, of a lot of people.

[Father Hooper]

Yeah, I, I, I mean, I thought it was okay, but I would have.

[Mike Palindrome]

Gone with London Fields too, I think.

[Father Hooper]

Yeah. So I suggested London Fields and he relayed that to his colleague and he came back to me and said that the colleague said that that novel has some issues. So I took that to mean they're probably younger than us and they're not quite sure London Fields could be written today.

[Mike Palindrome]

Right, right. But that might be true of Money as well. That's true of a lot of Martin Amos, I think. So anyway, what have you noticed this time around? Are you underlining a lot of passages and writing things in the margins?

[Father Hooper]

I mean, there's so much that I find just hilarious, like Keith Talent and getting all his news from tabloids or the tv, when, when someone says something, he says like, oh, I, I didn't see that in the tabloids. You know, was that on the tv? You know, like, so there's some really great stuff. And I think he, like Nabokov, really just enjoys language. Yeah. And enjoys one off one liners and yeah. Like there's a description of one of the characters, Guy Clinch, wading into the sea. And he, Amos writes, Guy pressed on, hardly blinking as he crossed the scrotum barrier. And I was thinking, I mean, it's just stuff like that that I really enjoy.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah. I remember feeling like, you know, Amos. I went through an Amos, Martin Amos phase. And looking back, it kind of reminds me of when you love a band and like, let's say you like U2, and then you read an interview and they talk about the bands that they loved when they were growing up and they mention like the Beatles and you think, oh, that's great. They're influenced by the people I want them to be influenced by. And it then seems like it makes the Beatles better, it makes U2 better and you feel like you're listening to the right set of music because everybody's kind of connected. And with Martin Amos, I always love that you not only get Kingsley Amos, but you also get his, just his reverence for Nabokov and Saul Bello and even the Prose style of John Updike. And then he also had the novelists that he studied when he was at university, like Jane Austen and George Eliot. It. And you think, okay, I'm glad that these were all your heroes and all your influences. I can share that with you as I'm reading your books.

[Father Hooper]

Yeah, I mean, he's highly educated and really ambitious. Like the ambition of a novel, of this novel. Just like putting a city name in the title. It's just rarely done and I think for the most part he pulls it off. But there are poetic rants, poetic flights and poetic rants that sometimes don't work, and I mark some of those. And the female character, Nicola six. I'd be remiss if I didn't talk about how she just doesn't seem sexy today.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah, that kind of falls apart. No.

[Father Hooper]

Yeah, but she was supposed to be the. The sexiest woman alive. The sexiest murdery alive.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah, yeah, that. That part kind of falls flat. I mean, the, the stuff that really sings are the Keith Talent playing darts and stuff like that.

[Father Hooper]

Yeah, yeah, it's. Keith Talent is a great character. He alone is worth reading. I mean, they're the exchanges between him and basically any other character. I love when Keith enters the scene, Keith turns to Guy at one point and goes, you see that Nicky then. And Amos writes Guy considered, period. He often had trouble with Keith's tenses.

[Mike Palindrome]

Okay, so speaking of influences, we've got Nathaniel Hawthorne today, and he was one of Henry James's heroes, which is not easy to do. And Herman Melville, of course, Edgar Allan Poe had a kind of grudging respect for Hawthorne. And today we're going to be talking about the minister's black veil. So I'll ask you the usual question, anything listeners should be aware of before.

[Jack Wilson]

They hear the story.

[Father Hooper]

I think just I would urge people to stay with it. I think, you know, it's. It was written in 1836.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah.

[Father Hooper]

I think some listeners might be listening to this while they're shopping for food and after about five minutes they might think like, ah, it's, it's. It's outdated. It's an old story. I urge listeners to stay with it.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah, okay. And it's not that long. I think it's probably about a 20 or 30 minute read, so. Or listen. So that was my note as well. It takes place in the early 18th century. Hawthorne was writing a hundred or so years later in the early to mid 19th century. So there are some outdated language and concepts, but I agree with you that it pays off. If you listen to the end. So let's take a quick break. We'll listen to the story and then Mike and I are going to draft the 10 best things or the 10 most noteworthy things about the Minister's blackmail.

[Micah Ruthers]

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[Mike Palindrome]

You don't wake up dreaming of McDonald's fries. You wake up dreaming of McDonald's hash browns. McDonald's breakfast comes first.

[Father Hooper]

Ba da ba ba ba.

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[Jack Wilson]

The Minister's Black Veil By Nathaniel Hawthorne A Parable the sexton stood in the porch of Milford Meeting House, pulling lustily 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 weekdays, 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 toward 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. 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 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 30, 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 toward 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 center. Some went homeward alone, wrapped 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 ghost like from head to foot. Do you not feel it so truly? I do, 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 halt deserving 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 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 averse 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 must be supposed, was obvious enough. There was the black veil swathed around 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 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 besides 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 rose 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. 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, obscene 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 horrors which it shadowed forth must be drawn darkly between the fondest of lovers. 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 vale 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 candlelight 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 it is fitting, resumed the Rev. Mr. Clarke, that a man so given to prayer, of such a blameless example, holy indeed in 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 the 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. In 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 moldered beneath the black veil.

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[Mike Palindrome]

Okay, we're back. So, Mike, the listeners just heard the minister's black veil. What is your number one thing you want to bring up?

[Father Hooper]

I think the relentlessness of Hawthorne. I mean, this refusal to take off the black veil. I think as a writer, I'm sort of in awe of the story.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah. That Hawthorne didn't think, well, readers are going to demand that I have this character take off the veil. At some point we'll have to have some kind of literally a reveal.

[Father Hooper]

Yeah, I mean, I think it's. I was thinking of the D.H. lawrence story that we read together, the Odor of Chrysanthemums. And just there was something persistent about that story that sort of drove me crazy. I don't know if it was actually the flowers or it was the body, the drunken body of the husband, but here the black veil remains mysterious. It doesn't flatline for me.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah. Yeah. It's almost like the mystery is at the center. And what we see that changes are the things around it, the people around it. Most of the things that I. Spoiler alert. Most of the things I chose are different reactions that different characters have at different times to the black veil.

[Father Hooper]

Yeah. And the story really takes a left turn with the wife begging him to take off the veil and refusing to. I just, I think that. I mean, that's a really great scene.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah.

[Jack Wilson]

Yeah.

[Mike Palindrome]

Well, you're stepping on some of my picks, so why don't I go ahead with my number one, which is the footnote. I don't know if you had the footnote in your version, but the real life Joseph Moody, who was the inspiration for this, he was called Joseph Handkerchief Moody. He was a clergyman in New England. And the footnote says he made himself remarkable by the same eccentricity that is here related. In his case, however, the symbol had a different import. In early life, he had accidentally killed a beloved friend. And from that day till the hour of his own death, he hid his face from men. And it's. It's interesting that that Hawthorne tells us this, but then also says the symbol had a different import to say, don't think that's going to be the clue either. And I did some research at the New England Historical Society online, and they said there are actually several different stories about why Joseph Moody wore the handkerchief. One is that he didn't like preaching. He was happy doing other jobs instead. And then he sank into depression and his mind became disordered, and he started wearing the blank handkerchief, sort of out of mental illness. And then he, as the townspeople, began to shun him, he wandered the churchyard at night. And then another version. He was disappointed when his cousin wouldn't marry him, and he grew increasingly eccentric. And then the third story is the one where he killed his friend in a hunting accident and wore the handkerchief ever after, for after his father had made him stay up all night with the body of his friend as atonement. And then there's a fourth explanation, that he was just vulnerable to depression and guilt, and he suffered a mental and physical breakdown when his wife and infant daughter died in childbirth. And in that version, he actually didn't wear the handkerchief until the day he died.

[Jack Wilson]

He only wore it for a brief period.

[Mike Palindrome]

But in any case, I don't know if you know this or you maybe knew it at one time and forgot it happened a while ago, but Rick Moody, the author, Rick Moody was descended from Joseph Moody, and he wrote a book about this. Yeah, it was called the Black Veil Got Torn Apart.

[Father Hooper]

Right.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah. That was the book that triggered the notorious Dale Peck hatchet job, which began, rick Moody is the worst writer of his generation. And in that essay, that review, Dale Peck described some. Some lines that he considered but rejected as the way to start the review. And one of them was going to.

[Jack Wilson]

Be, the Black Veil is the worst.

[Mike Palindrome]

Of Rick Moody's very bad books. And he rejected that line because when he thought about it some more, he realized that Moody's novel Garden State was actually worse than the Black Veil. And he thought the Black Veil is the second worst of Rick Moody's very bad books. Didn't really get the review off to the right start the way he wanted it to.

[Father Hooper]

Yeah. I studied with Dale Peck when I got my mfa, and I remember he was one of the few honest teachers.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah.

[Father Hooper]

Because I think some professors, their way of sort of encouraging us, slash, mailing it in, was not telling the truth about your writing.

[Mike Palindrome]

Did Dale Peck ever write at the top of one of your stories? Rick Moody, I believe, is now the second worst writer of his generation.

[Father Hooper]

No, but I remember one of his comments was, you don't know what you're doing here. This paragraph. You have no idea what you're doing. Take responsibility for the sentence, that's what he would write.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah. I reread the review. I remembered it as being a hatchet job. It's actually a much better review than I thought. Not better in the sense of more positive toward Rick Moody, but better in the sense more substantive than I remembered it being. And he talks about just staring at the opening paragraph of the Black Veil and then just saying, I have no idea what this means, what it's trying to say. All I see are the literary artifices that's making this seem like it would be a good way to start a book, or that there's going to be insight and everything. And then he just kind of walks through all the things that are being said and takes them all apart. And you realize that it is the kind of writing that you might kind of sprint through thinking that it's deeper than it actually is. But I found myself persuaded by Dale Peck that it was actually more literary affect than actual literary substance.

[Father Hooper]

Yeah. It's one of those things where, I guess all through childhood and in his adult life, Rick Moody's had family members and friends say, like, what an interesting connection to Joseph Moody. You should write about it.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah, right. Yeah. And the Hawthorne story, you know, who brings Joseph Moody kind of back to the forefront. And I would say with Hawthorne, it's kind of like the opposite for me. I sort of read him thinking that it's literary affect because sometimes the language gets a little bit clogged, like Henry James. But then Hawthorne's commitment to the deepest and darkest ideas and his willingness to. To dive in and just keep going. I guess this is the persistence that you had as number one. It really is impressive.

[Father Hooper]

Yeah. I just kept wondering. I think part of it, it's brilliant because I think the reader's growing curiosity runs parallel with the kind of frustration that he won't take the freaking veil off.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah.

[Father Hooper]

And you couldn't write a novel like the way he wrote Scarlet Letter. You couldn't write a novel with somebody just not taking the veil off.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah.

[Father Hooper]

Like, for 200 pages. Because the reader would.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah. You'd lose some of that tension, and you'd start to get annoyed, and there'd be too much other stuff that happened where you'd think, well, now he could take it off, now he could take it off. Or you just lose interest.

[Father Hooper]

Yeah.

[Mike Palindrome]

Okay. What's your number two?

[Father Hooper]

So my number two was this, you know, touches of Flannery O'Connor, this religion, superstition kind of mixture. There's really good description of dread and, like, him the series of events where they first see him in the veil and then he oversees a funeral and then he oversees a wedding and there's this idea that he's sort of marrying the dead woman in the marriage. And I mean, I really enjoyed the way this was building. It was like, like Edgar Allan Poe, Flannery O'Connor and I admired the fact that this is like an early 19th century story.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah.

[Father Hooper]

And it wasn't heavy handed.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah. Yeah. I guess that dovetails with one of the choices I had for later, but I'll just give it now, which is just that whole ultimate meaning of what this is in this context of these parishioners and this idea that secret sin as an idea that we're all hiding from the Creator and each other, we're hiding things and even ourselves. And in these small communities that Hawthorne always seems to be drawn to, where there's no transgressions and everyone knows everyone's business and everyone is so pious and they go to church and all of that, except their doctrine is, you know, it emphasizes that we're all sinners, all human beings are sinners. And there are, in fact, people do sin, but even when they don't, the most pious believe that they too are sinners and so are their neighbors. And. And everybody sitting in the congregation is being denounced as a sinner, even though they're. They might be some of the most upstanding people you could find, which is. It's humble, but it's also kind of grandiose. And. And that's kind of what's interesting about the veil too. Like, it's. In a way, it's him being humble in a way. He's obstinate and selfish and ostentatious to be wearing this. It's like people who make a big deal out of wearing a hair shirt or flagellating themselves or something. Is that really humility to do something like that if you're kind of demonstrating to the world your extreme religion?

[Jack Wilson]

Yeah.

[Father Hooper]

I mean, what you're saying, the small community, the secret sin, it's like straight. It was very strange to me that the sense that the devil is so close by.

[Jack Wilson]

Yeah.

[Father Hooper]

All the time. And it just seems sad and claustrophobic.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah.

[Father Hooper]

That everybody is in everybody's business and even the children, the whispers and.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah.

[Jack Wilson]

Yeah.

[Mike Palindrome]

And that's one of the things that Elizabeth says and that is hovering over this, is people saying, well, you must be wearing that because you did something awful. You did something horrible. You're doing some kind of penance for Some horrendous sin. And Elizabeth says to him, people are going to think that if you aren't doing it for that reason, why don't you dispel that inevitable rumor that you're wearing the black veil because you did some horrible sin in your past.

[Father Hooper]

Yeah. The wife scene opens up a lot of avenues where the story could go because we are the. The reader is the wife. Like, you seem like a good guy. I'm married to you. Why are you still wearing the veil?

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah. And then this was actually my. Gonna be my. My next pick is that scene. And then he begs her and says, please stay with me. And then she says, you're right. It's like the reader take it off for me, even just once. It's like the reader saying that, okay, just lift it once. Let us see you in your eyes just once. And he says, no. And then she says, like, I think the readers are tempted to say, well, then, goodbye forever. But yet she kind of comes back. It is kind of like that, the experience of reading it, where you're like, okay, if you're just going to wear this and not tell anybody why, I'm not going to spend that much time with you. But I do kind of want to know what ends up happening.

[Father Hooper]

Yeah. I've read enough Hawthorne to know that he's not going to be the devil. But I was thinking that his eyes would maybe be strangely red or his teeth extra sharp or something.

[Mike Palindrome]

Well, you can still see his mouth because he always has that little. That little smile, which is kind of creepy. But. But yeah, it did make me think that scene with Elizabeth where it reminded me of the ending of Gabriel in the Dead, where Gabriel realizes that he doesn't truly know his wife, that nobody truly knows anyone. And Elizabeth here is kind of giving us the flip side of that where she's saying, I see this coming. I don't want to be married to a guy I don't truly know. I'm not going to bind myself to an enigma. How could I live that way? I got to get out of here.

[Father Hooper]

Yeah. It's the perf. The story. This was one of my picks. It's the perfect length. And, you know, as a fan of auto fiction, as a fan that loves, you know, the quotidian, I was just thinking, I started a short story by Sheila Hetty in the New Yorker, the Saint, the girls at St. Alwyn's at sea. And I really like Sheila Heady. Her novel, you know, something like, what is in. What does it Mean to be good? Or How. How should one be good? But anyway, I started this story and after about five pages, I was enjoying it, but so little had happened other than this, like, you know, regret. This teenage girl regretted. Felt like that her. Her boyfriend, who. Well, he's not really a boyfriend, but he's writing her letters. And after five pages, I was thinking like, you know, Hawthorne, because I was reading these in tandem. Hawthorne, what he does in five pages, what he does in 11 pages, like, you just know that every twist of the reader's attention is building. And I started to think that autofiction is a little bit of a, you know, a salve for people today. You know, in what way? It's not. It's like we want to. We don't want to be challenged. You know, if, if a story starts out in an unfamiliar way or in a very dense narrative, we think, oh, you know what, I'll try something else.

[Mike Palindrome]

Right.

[Father Hooper]

Instead, what I did was I. I left behind the show, had his story, because. Yeah, because it was too readable. That's what I started thinking.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah.

[Father Hooper]

There was something about it that made me feel like, enough with auto fiction.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah, yeah, it does. I mean, when I read Henry James stories, I feel a little bit like that too. There's a moment where I think, ah.

[Jack Wilson]

Why is he making me work so hard?

[Mike Palindrome]

And then I start getting into it and those objections kind of fall away as I get more accustomed to the addiction and the sentences. And then I start feeling like I'm actually. This is like a. This, this is a meal rich with protein. Like, you know, the, the other stuff, some of the other fiction I read is. Is more fun to read, but it's more like dessert and maybe even just the whipped cream. Just eating a bowl of whipped cream. But this is like, there's real, real nourishment in James or in Hawthorne.

[Father Hooper]

Yeah. I mean, and the, the weird thing is the Sheila Heady piece is not auto fiction. It's kind of fantasy, like George Saunders ask, but the flow of it, entire paragraphs flowing very nat naturally and also in a relaxed manner that reminded me of autofiction. So, yeah, the length of this story, the minister's black veil, is so impressive.

[Mike Palindrome]

Now, did you feel like there was a distance between you and the story because it. It. Because of religion? That it. Unless you share in the religion of the people in the story, or maybe Hawthorne himself, there isn't. Isn't something there for you? Or do you think it could be read even from a secular perspective?

[Father Hooper]

I actually think it's harder. It might Be a harder thing to read if you were very religious because. So one of my picks, my next pick. Well, the length, the perfect length of it, was one of my picks. But the next pick was. I wrote that the datedness of the story became fascinating to me and the religion. And it's almost campy. Like, not only the clothing, but the way he glimpses himself in the mirror.

[Mike Palindrome]

And I had that as an honorable mention, where he sees himself and shudders.

[Father Hooper]

It's like I was just imagining, like, you know, the black veil was designed by Prada or helmet long and just like, just. He was the most stylish pastor.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah. Yeah.

[Father Hooper]

So. But then the way it became fascinating to me is, like, you know, the symbolism and the way he kept his place in society. And I started to think about institutional authority and how it's important that people understand an authority figure, but maybe not quite understand it. Like, there's a benefit to being. Having, like, a supernatural power, you know? And that started. I started thinking about this in the story and also thinking about COVID masks and how people who are shy, maybe, you know, like them, and people said that they provided warmth. There were, like, different reasons. Like, some people like them, like criminals in New York City were sometimes wearing Covid masks unnecessarily.

[Mike Palindrome]

So, yeah. And I. I remember thinking when I was wearing the mask, like on a plane, I was thinking, I should always wear these on planes. Even when Covid's over, I'm going to wear these on planes because. So I don't get germs, but I've dropped that. But you can see where people feel like it offers a little bit of protection, but then it also kind of puts some distance between you and the people around you. So in a way, it's kind of like the veil, except when I see someone wearing a Covid mask, I know why they're wearing it, or I think they have a medical reason to wear it. And in this case, there's really no reason why he would wear this black veil. At first, my initial response was going to be one of my picks, that they say he has changed himself into something awful.

[Jack Wilson]

And the next line is, our parson has gone mad.

[Mike Palindrome]

They just the idea of the way this would first impact the crowd, and they've come to trust this minister. They come to this meeting house to say this.

[Jack Wilson]

This person is going to be the.

[Mike Palindrome]

Authority in religion, the most important thing in our world, in our lives. And he comes out with this thing on his face. They have no idea why. And he doesn't explain It. It's such a fascinating way to launch this whole scenario.

[Father Hooper]

Yeah. I think my mother might read this story because she always brings her personality into the way she reads stories. So I think she might read this story and either say, why doesn't he just take it off? Like, why. Why would you do that? But then the other part of me thinks she might say, like, why is everybody bought in his business? Like, leave him alone. Yeah. Somebody wants to wear a funny thing on their face, like, what's it. What was the problem? So, like, the two sides of, you know, what Hawthorne is. Wants us to grapple with, you know, it's like. Yeah. Is he actually religious?

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah.

[Father Hooper]

Or is he taking it to his own personal narcissistic level?

[Mike Palindrome]

Right. Is his wearing this? You know, if you're sitting there in the congregation, you're thinking, is he attacking himself? Is he doing this to himself or is he attacking us? You know, is he. Is he doing this because he thinks he's better than us and, and. Or he thinks there's something he needs to. Just something about us that he needs to distance himself from?

[Father Hooper]

Yeah. I mean, it's a powerful thing. He's the, you know, the pastor has done because he. He is supposed to be sort of above the commoners.

[Jack Wilson]

Mm.

[Father Hooper]

And, you know, I think there's description that he. He has like a placid cheerfulness, that the best sermon he ever delivers is the. When he first wears it, there are strong leanings that it helps. Is his sermonizing.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah. He's doing something that nobody else in the congregation was willing to do. And his commitment to it is something that is kind of awe inspiring and impressive, even if they have no understanding of it at all.

[Father Hooper]

Yeah. It's just. He's not able to turn it off when he gets home.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah, right.

[Father Hooper]

He's. He's married to his work. You know, it's like Ricky Williams taking interviews with his football helmet on or.

[Jack Wilson]

Right, right.

[Father Hooper]

His anxiety.

[Mike Palindrome]

So what did you make of the ending where he gives the speech and says, you know, where he. He explains kind of at the end on his deathbed what he was doing? I mean, did you feel like his explanation was. Was satisfying?

[Father Hooper]

I just think he is holding fast to his, you know, to his guns, and he will never change. And that's almost like. It's almost like an apotheosis where he, you know, he alone ascends to the heavens. I mean, he. He has the right. Although there's also part of me that thinks that he. He kind of descends to hell. He There is something very religious and redemptive at the end. It's just. I don't know in which direction.

[Mike Palindrome]

Right. It's an explanation that doesn't really explain. Like, he's kind of saying, you know, when he says, I look around me and lo, on every visage, a black veil. And that this. This piece of crepe is so awful because of the mystery that it typifies, and that's the only reason why it's awful. But then it's like, well, why did you wear it? What good did it do you to wear this? If that's what you were trying to demonstrate, if you never told anybody that. But I would say that I like it. Even as a secular story, the idea that we're all kind of mysteries to one another. I don't really need the secret sin in order to feel like, in a way, he's talking about the human condition that there is. We never really know each other. We always hide part of ourselves, and we don't. You know, in some ways, we all have this kind of black veil. It's just our social Persona that we put on whenever we go out in public, and it embodies that. But it also, in a way, kind of. I don't know that we need that exposed. You know, I don't know that we need someone trying to hit us over the head with that idea and make us aware of it and recognize it, because we kind of know it even without having someone who's wearing a black veil in order to symbolize it.

[Father Hooper]

Yeah, I mean, that. The idea of structuring society runs through this piece. The sacrifice of a person, the kind of. The person that is a straw man. It gives people something to talk about and something to bond over. It is a critique of society. Back then, I think Hawthorne was very. A little obsessed with it, I mean, as someone who wrote with the scarlet letter. And I think he really wanted to kind of hold up a mirror to his. To his neighbors. I mean, imagine. Imagine in 1836, like your next door neighbor is Hawthorne, and you read this story. I mean, you must think he thinks of you.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah. It does kind of say a lot about community because on the one hand, it. It unites everybody. Like, here we are. We are all. We're all together in this, facing this guy. And we all find it weird, and we find this to be, you know, we're. We're. We have a strong sense of being united, that. That this guy is the weirdo and maybe the monster and. But at the same time, him Doing that kind of turns the community into something it doesn't necessarily want to be, where it's okay, you guys are going to be the town that has this odd minister that you all go in and watch every week and listen to every week. And you're going to be well known as the weird community for having this guy. And you can see that in other Hawthorne stories as well. I mean, or just in the Salem witch trials, for example. On the one hand, the people of Salem are going to be united by having this enemy of a witch that they can burn or drown, but at the same time, they're going to set themselves apart from the rest of the world by having these witch hunts.

[Father Hooper]

Yeah, I think the way the story steps back from society and has these moments where the characters sort of resemble types, I think it really resonates in addition to the themes resonates today. What I'm saying is like his writing style, I. I know it's date. The. The plotting is dated. I think the character reactions are a little dated. But there's something in his writing style that makes this read almost like myth. And I think it's very readable today. And readers will really think about their. The suburbs where they live, or the college cliques that they see around.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah, I think we've covered just about everything I had on my list, but there was, there's one I want to mention another honorable mention, because it fits right in with what you were just talking about. And maybe is the one example where I found it a little bit humorous and maybe true to life is where the children are talking about it on their way to school. And one kid covers his face with an old black handkerchief to. He calls him an imitative little imp who covers his face with an old black handkerchief to sort of make fun of the minister. And he scares his playmate so much that the panic then seized himself and he nearly lost his wits by his own waggery, which seems like exactly what kids might do. There's a thing with kids where you can see it when. And I can remember people doing this where they try to do something that's a little more grown up and then suddenly they realize they're still in the realm of kids and they've actually scared themselves or they've. They've gone a little too far and then they get, you know, afraid that they're going to get in trouble or something. It seems like this little, this imitative little imp really struck me as somebody I might have encountered or maybe been myself in about 1976.

[Father Hooper]

Yeah. The only thing I was going to add is that if I were to write a Bible, I would include this.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah, well, it's called a parable. Right. So it would fit right in.

[Father Hooper]

I don't know if this is. Is this read in high school? I think I read it in college.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah. I don't know. I mean, there's another story that I think is probably read more often, which we could also put on our list of young Goodman Brown.

[Father Hooper]

Oh, right. Yeah, I read that in college, actually.

[Mike Palindrome]

Yeah. Yeah. So maybe we'll have to turn to that. But I think we have F. Scott Fitzgerald is coming up next.

[Father Hooper]

Oh, yeah, let's do that. I'm looking forward to that.

[Mike Palindrome]

Okay, well, anything else on the minister's black veil?

[Father Hooper]

No, but thanks for making me look at Hawthorne. It's been decades.

[Jack Wilson]

Yeah, good.

[Mike Palindrome]

Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it. So let's leave things there. Mike Palindrome, as always, thanks for joining me on the History of Literature.

[Father Hooper]

Thanks, Jack.

[Jack Wilson]

Okay, that's going to do it for this episode of the History of Literature.

[Mike Palindrome]

My thanks to Mike Palindrome for joining.

[Jack Wilson]

Me, as always, and to listener Claire for her lovely message. Be well, listener Claire. And that goes for all the rest.

[Mike Palindrome]

Of you as well.

[Jack Wilson]

We've got some great episodes coming up, including Thomas Kyd. Just how much did Shakespeare owe to the author of the Spanish Tragedy? And what else might Kyd have written? We'll talk to a podcaster about her interviews with people and her asking them about the five books that they most like. And we'll have a special look at some Emily Dickinson poetry with musical accompaniment.

[Mike Palindrome]

Alan Lightman is going to tell us.

[Jack Wilson]

About some astonishing things in the natural world and their effect on us. And we'll have episodes on Dante, some runaway poets, and John Ruskin.

[Mike Palindrome]

I'm Jack Wilson.

[Jack Wilson]

Thank you for listening and we'll see you next time.

[Mike Palindrome]

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[Jack Wilson]

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[Mike Palindrome]

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[Jack Wilson]

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