The Lady Or The Tiger? - Frank Stockton
In the very olden time there lived a semi-barbaric king,
whose ideas, though somewhat polished and sharpened by the progressiveness of
distant Latin neighbors, were still large, florid, and untrammeled, as became
the half of him which was barbaric. He was a man of exuberant fancy, and,
withal, of an authority so irresistible that, at his will, he turned his varied
fancies into facts. He was greatly given to self-communing, and, when he and
himself agreed upon anything, the thing was done. When every member of his
domestic and political systems moved smoothly in its appointed course, his
nature was bland and genial; but, whenever there was a little hitch, and some
of his orbs got out of their orbits, he was blander and more genial still, for
nothing pleased him so much as to make the crooked straight and crush down
uneven places.
Among the borrowed notions by which his barbarism had become
semified was that of the public arena, in which, by exhibitions of manly and
beastly valor, the minds of his subjects were refined and cultured.
But even here the exuberant and barbaric fancy asserted
itself. The arena of the king was built, not to give the people an opportunity
of hearing the rhapsodies of dying gladiators, nor to enable them to view the
inevitable conclusion of a conflict between religious opinions and hungry jaws,
but for purposes far better adapted to widen and develop the mental energies of
the people. This vast amphitheater, with its encircling galleries, its
mysterious vaults, and its unseen passages, was an agent of poetic justice, in
which crime was punished, or virtue rewarded, by the decrees of an impartial
and incorruptible chance.
When a subject was accused of a crime of sufficient
importance to interest the king, public notice was given that on an appointed
day the fate of the accused person would be decided in the king's arena, a
structure which well deserved its name, for, although its form and plan were
borrowed from afar, its purpose emanated solely from the brain of this man,
who, every barleycorn a king, knew no tradition to which he owed more
allegiance than pleased his fancy, and who ingrafted on every adopted form of
human thought and action the rich growth of his barbaric idealism.
When all the people had assembled in the galleries, and the
king, surrounded by his court, sat high up on his throne of royal state on one
side of the arena, he gave a signal, a door beneath him opened, and the accused
subject stepped out into the amphitheater. Directly opposite him, on the other
side of the enclosed space, were two doors, exactly alike and side by side. It
was the duty and the privilege of the person on trial to walk directly to these
doors and open one of them. He could open either door he pleased; he was
subject to no guidance or influence but that of the aforementioned impartial
and incorruptible chance. If he opened the one, there came out of it a hungry
tiger, the fiercest and most cruel that could be procured, which immediately
sprang upon him and tore him to pieces as a punishment for his guilt. The
moment that the case of the criminal was thus decided, doleful iron bells were
clanged, great wails went up from the hired mourners posted on the outer rim of
the arena, and the vast audience, with bowed heads and downcast hearts, wended
slowly their homeward way, mourning greatly that one so young and fair, or so
old and respected, should have merited so dire a fate.
But, if the accused person opened the other door, there came
forth from it a lady, the most suitable to his years and station that his
majesty could select among his fair subjects, and to this lady he was
immediately married, as a reward of his innocence. It mattered not that he
might already possess a wife and family, or that his affections might be
engaged upon an object of his own selection; the king allowed no such
subordinate arrangements to interfere with his great scheme of retribution and
reward. The exercises, as in the other instance, took place immediately, and in
the arena. Another door opened beneath the king, and a priest, followed by a
band of choristers, and dancing maidens blowing joyous airs on golden horns and
treading an epithalamic measure, advanced to where the pair stood, side by
side, and the wedding was promptly and cheerily solemnized. Then the gay brass
bells rang forth their merry peals, the people shouted glad hurrahs, and the
innocent man, preceded by children strewing flowers on his path, led his bride
to his home.
This was the king's semi-barbaric method of administering
justice. Its perfect fairness is obvious. The criminal could not know out of
which door would come the lady; he opened either he pleased, without having the
slightest idea whether, in the next instant, he was to be devoured or married.
On some occasions the tiger came out of one door, and on some out of the other.
The decisions of this tribunal were not only fair, they were positively
determinate: the accused person was instantly punished if he found himself
guilty, and, if innocent, he was rewarded on the spot, whether he liked it or
not. There was no escape from the judgments of the king's arena.
The institution was a very popular one. When the people
gathered together on one of the great trial days, they never knew whether they were
to witness a bloody slaughter or a hilarious wedding. This element of
uncertainty lent an interest to the occasion which it could not otherwise have
attained. Thus, the masses were entertained and pleased, and the thinking part
of the community could bring no charge of unfairness against this plan, for did
not the accused person have the whole matter in his own hands?
This semi-barbaric king had a daughter as blooming as his
most florid fancies, and with a soul as fervent and imperious as his own. As is
usual in such cases, she was the apple of his eye, and was loved by him above
all humanity. Among his courtiers was a young man of that fineness of blood and
lowness of station common to the conventional heroes of romance who love royal
maidens. This royal maiden was well satisfied with her lover, for he was
handsome and brave to a degree unsurpassed in all this kingdom, and she loved
him with an ardor that had enough of barbarism in it to make it exceedingly
warm and strong. This love affair moved on happily for many months, until one
day the king happened to discover its existence. He did not hesitate nor waver
in regard to his duty in the premises. The youth was immediately cast into
prison, and a day was appointed for his trial in the king's arena. This, of
course, was an especially important occasion, and his majesty, as well as all
the people, was greatly interested in the workings and development of this
trial. Never before had such a case occurred; never before had a subject dared
to love the daughter of the king. In after years such things became commonplace
enough, but then they were in no slight degree novel and startling.
The tiger-cages of the kingdom were searched for the most
savage and relentless beasts, from which the fiercest monster might be selected
for the arena; and the ranks of maiden youth and beauty throughout the land
were carefully surveyed by competent judges in order that the young man might
have a fitting bride in case fate did not determine for him a different
destiny. Of course, everybody knew that the deed with which the accused was
charged had been done. He had loved the princess, and neither he, she, nor any
one else, thought of denying the fact; but the king would not think of allowing
any fact of this kind to interfere with the workings of the tribunal, in which
he took such great delight and satisfaction. No matter how the affair turned
out, the youth would be disposed of, and the king would take an aesthetic
pleasure in watching the course of events, which would determine whether or not
the young man had done wrong in allowing himself to love the princess.
The appointed day arrived. From far and near the people
gathered, and thronged the great galleries of the arena, and crowds, unable to
gain admittance, massed themselves against its outside walls. The king and his
court were in their places, opposite the twin doors, those fateful portals, so
terrible in their similarity.
All was ready. The signal was given. A door beneath the
royal party opened, and the lover of the princess walked into the arena. Tall,
beautiful, fair, his appearance was greeted with a low hum of admiration and
anxiety. Half the audience had not known so grand a youth had lived among them.
No wonder the princess loved him! What a terrible thing for him to be there!
As the youth advanced into the arena he turned, as the
custom was, to bow to the king, but he did not think at all of that royal
personage. His eyes were fixed upon the princess, who sat to the right of her
father. Had it not been for the moiety of barbarism in her nature it is
probable that lady would not have been there, but her intense and fervid soul
would not allow her to be absent on an occasion in which she was so terribly
interested. From the moment that the decree had gone forth that her lover
should decide his fate in the king's arena, she had thought of nothing, night
or day, but this great event and the various subjects connected with it.
Possessed of more power, influence, and force of character than any one who had
ever before been interested in such a case, she had done what no other person
had done - she had possessed herself of the secret of the doors. She knew in
which of the two rooms, that lay behind those doors, stood the cage of the
tiger, with its open front, and in which waited the lady. Through these thick
doors, heavily curtained with skins on the inside, it was impossible that any
noise or suggestion should come from within to the person who should approach
to raise the latch of one of them. But gold, and the power of a woman's will,
had brought the secret to the princess.
And not only did she know in which room stood the lady ready
to emerge, all blushing and radiant, should her door be opened, but she knew
who the lady was. It was one of the fairest and loveliest of the damsels of the
court who had been selected as the reward of the accused youth, should he be
proved innocent of the crime of aspiring to one so far above him; and the
princess hated her. Often had she seen, or imagined that she had seen, this
fair creature throwing glances of admiration upon the person of her lover, and
sometimes she thought these glances were perceived, and even returned. Now and
then she had seen them talking together; it was but for a moment or two, but
much can be said in a brief space; it may have been on most unimportant topics,
but how could she know that? The girl was lovely, but she had dared to raise
her eyes to the loved one of the princess; and, with all the intensity of the
savage blood transmitted to her through long lines of wholly barbaric
ancestors, she hated the woman who blushed and trembled behind that silent
door.
When her lover turned and looked at her, and his eye met
hers as she sat there, paler and whiter than any one in the vast ocean of
anxious faces about her, he saw, by that power of quick perception which is
given to those whose souls are one, that she knew behind which door crouched
the tiger, and behind which stood the lady. He had expected her to know it. He
understood her nature, and his soul was assured that she would never rest until
she had made plain to herself this thing, hidden to all other lookers-on, even
to the king. The only hope for the youth in which there was any element of
certainty was based upon the success of the princess in discovering this
mystery; and the moment he looked upon her, he saw she had succeeded, as in his
soul he knew she would succeed.
Then it was that his quick and anxious glance asked the
question: "Which?" It was as plain to her as if he shouted it from
where he stood. There was not an instant to be lost. The question was asked in
a flash; it must be answered in another.
Her right arm lay on the cushioned parapet before her. She
raised her hand, and made a slight, quick movement toward the right. No one but
her lover saw her. Every eye but his was fixed on the man in the arena.
He turned, and with a firm and rapid step he walked across
the empty space. Every heart stopped beating, every breath was held, every eye
was fixed immovably upon that man. Without the slightest hesitation, he went to
the door on the right, and opened it.
Now, the point of the story is this: Did the tiger come out
of that door, or did the lady ?
The more we reflect upon this question, the harder it is to
answer. It involves a study of the human heart which leads us through devious
mazes of passion, out of which it is difficult to find our way. Think of it,
fair reader, not as if the decision of the question depended upon yourself, but
upon that hot-blooded, semi-barbaric princess, her soul at a white heat beneath
the combined fires of despair and jealousy. She had lost him, but who should
have him?
How often, in her waking hours and in her dreams, had she
started in wild horror, and covered her face with her hands as she thought of
her lover opening the door on the other side of which waited the cruel fangs of
the tiger!
But how much oftener had she seen him at the other door! How
in her grievous reveries had she gnashed her teeth, and torn her hair, when she
saw his start of rapturous delight as he opened the door of the lady! How her
soul had burned in agony when she had seen him rush to meet that woman, with
her flushing cheek and sparkling eye of triumph; when she had seen him lead her
forth, his whole frame kindled with the joy of recovered life; when she had
heard the glad shouts from the multitude, and the wild ringing of the happy
bells; when she had seen the priest, with his joyous followers, advance to the
couple, and make them man and wife before her very eyes; and when she had seen
them walk away together upon their path of flowers, followed by the tremendous
shouts of the hilarious multitude, in which her one despairing shriek was lost
and drowned!
Would it not be better for him to die at once, and go to
wait for her in the blessed regions of semi-barbaric futurity?
And yet, that awful tiger, those shrieks, that blood!
Her decision had been indicated in an instant, but it had
been made after days and nights of anguished deliberation. She had known she
would be asked, she had decided what she would answer, and, without the
slightest hesitation, she had moved her hand to the right.
The question of her decision is one not to be lightly
considered, and it is not for me to presume to set myself up as the one person
able to answer it. And so I leave it with all of you: Which came out of the
opened door - the lady, or the tiger?
