Frank R Stockton

1834 – 1902

◊  The Lady or The Tiger?

⇓  .  .  .   performed by Toyah Wilcox & Robert Fripp –  Artwork by Nicholas Roerich.

In the very olden time, there lived a semibarbaric king, whose ideas, though somewhat polished and sharpened by the progressiveness of distant Latin neighbours, were still large and florid and untrammelled as became the half of him which was barbaric.

He was a man of exuberant fancy and with all 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 his appointed course his nature was bland and genial, but whenever there was a little hitch, when some of his orbs got out of their orbits, he was blander and more genial still, then nothing pleased him so much as to make the crooked straight and crush down uneven places.

Among borrowed notions, by which his barbarism had become semified, was that of the public arena, in which by exhibitions of manly and beastly valour the minds of his subjects were refined and cultured, but even here the exuberant and barbaric fancy exerted 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 conclusions of 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 amphitheatre, with its encircling galleries, its mysterious vaults, and its unseen passages was an agent of poetic justice in which crime was punished and virtue was rewarded by the degrees 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 forlorn plan was borrowed from afar, its purpose animated solely from the brain of this man, who every barley corner king knew no tradition to which he owed more allegiance that pleased his fancy and who engrafted 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 signal: a door beneath him opened and the accused subject stepped out into the amphitheatre. 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 afore mentioned impartial and incorruptible chance.

If he opened the one, there came out of it a hungry tiger, the fiercest, the most cruel that could be procured, which immediately sprang upon him and tore to pieces, as a punishment for his guilt. The moment that the case of the criminal was best decided, doleful iron bells were clanged, great wails went up from the higher mooners posted on the outer rim of the arena, and the vast audience with bowed heads and downcast hearts wandered slowly their way home, 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 not 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 epitholomic measure advanced to where the pair stood, side by side, and the wedding was promptly and cheerily solemnised. Then the gay brass bells rang forth their merry peels. 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 semibarbaric 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 the 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 judgements 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 led 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?

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This semibarbaric 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 lowliness of station, common to conventional heroes of romance who loved 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 ardour 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 waiver in regard to his duty in the premises. The youth was immediately cast into prison and the 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 developments of this trial.

Never before had such a case occurred. Never before had a subject dared to love the daughter of a king. In after year such things became common place enough but then they were, in no slight degree, novel and startling.

The tiger cages of the kingdom was 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 anyone 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 royalty of barbarism in her nature, it is probable that the Lady would not have been there, but her intents 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 anyone 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 secrets 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 holy barbaric ancestors she hated the woman, who blushed and trembled behind the silent door.

When her lover turned, and looked at her, and his eye met hers, as she sat there paler and whiter than anyone in the vast ocean of anxious faces about her, he saw, by the 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.

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 onlookers, even 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 quick and anxious glance, asked the question which… it was as plain to her as if he had 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 cushion 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 the 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 listener, not as if the decision of the question depended upon yourself but upon that hot-blooded semibarbaric princess, her soul at a white heat beneath the combined fires of desire and jealousy.

She had lost him, but who should have him?

How often in her wakening hours and her dreams had she startled in a wild horror, had 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 gravest 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, who made them man and wife before her very eyes; and when she’d 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 semibarbaric 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 likely considered and it is not for me to presume to set myself up, as the one person able to answer it, so I leave it with all of you: which came out of the open door, the Lady or the Tiger?

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•→ The Discourager of Hesitancy ⇐

Unfolding the famous admonition “he who hesitates is lost,” Frank Stockton, propelled by the success of his story “The lady, or the tiger” was encouraged to write a sequel. it appeared in “the century” magazine in July of 1885. entitled «The discourager of hesitancy: a continuation of “The lady, or the tiger?”  This story draws the reader once more into the country ruled by a semi-barbaric king, “a man of exuberant fancy, and, withal, of an authority so irresistible that, at his will, he turned his varied fancies into facts.”