The Lady, or the Tiger?

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 inclosed 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?

Footnotes

  1. Here, the narrator turns the readers into the princess. Like the princess, the readers have all the necessary information to make an decision about the fate of the lover. By leaving the story open-ended, he forces the reader to confront their own biases regarding how they would act and what choice they would make in the princess’s situation.

    — Ian, Owl Eyes Staff
  2. In any other trial, the prisoner must make a choice and live with the consequences, despite having no way of weighing the options beforehand. The princess adds depth to this decision by the fact of her knowledge. She has the power to examine the options closely, meaning that she’s the only one who must live with the consequences.

    — Ian, Owl Eyes Staff
  3. The princess recognizes the fact that she and her lover are forever separated. Instead of being upset by this and taking time to mourn her loss, she begins to weigh her options. The princess seems unable to decide the proper fate: sending him to his death or sending him to his bride.

    — Ian, Owl Eyes Staff
  4. The princess will do whatever it takes to get what she wants, even if that means betraying her father, the king. This poses the central question of the story: Which fate does she want for her lover? Here, Stockton characterizes the princess as cutthroat and enigmatic.

    — Ian, Owl Eyes Staff
  5. The lover and the lady have been seen together, sending rumors flying and the princess spiraling into an abyss of rage and jealousy. This jealousy is perhaps the most important factor of the plot, as it decides the fate of the lover at the end. Stockton could also be making a subtle argument about the power of literature and language. Even the most whimsical and unimportant of topics can hold great influence. Indeed, this is the stance a humorist, someone whose career is built on using whimsy to influence others , would take.

    — Ian, Owl Eyes Staff
  6. The “savage blood” of her ancestors refers to the princess’s intense emotions regarding the titular lady behind the door. This emotion turns her blind with rage, making her motivations and actions unpredictable. This unpredictability is underscored at the end of the story by Stockton’s irresolute ending.

    — Ian, Owl Eyes Staff
  7. This passage calls the princess’s motivations into question. One would assume that she is there to support her lover. But it could also refer to her responsibility in the decision making process. As the only audience member who knows the content of each door, she has more of a “terrible interest” than anyone.

    — Ian, Owl Eyes Staff
  8. The noun “moiety” means one of two equal parts, indicating the princess’s barbaric desires, which oppose her cultured ideals.

    — Ian, Owl Eyes Staff
  9. To the prisoner, the doors appear to be exactly the same. He has no knowledge of what lies on the other side of either one. The only one with this knowledge is the princess, making her influence on her lover’s decision the only truly biased action at this stage of the story. She knows that she will lose her lover no matter the door he picks, so she must study the consequences of her decision. This examination of consequence is a luxury—and burden—afforded to no other person in the arena.

    — Ian, Owl Eyes Staff
  10. The king has created a fool-proof plan for himself. No matter what happens, the lover will not be marrying the princess. If he picks the tiger, the lover dies and the king gets a glorious show of violence and death. However, if the lover picks the lady, the king gets to watch as his daughter’s dalliance is ended by the marriage. Presumably, his barbarian side would prefer the bloodier option, but either will do.

    — Ian, Owl Eyes Staff
  11. In this story, the force of “fate” could belong to either the princess or the readers. In the narrative, fate is revealed to be guided by the princess, as she has the ability to make a choice based on her knowledge of the doors and their consequences. Stockton removes himself from the equation by ending the story before the reveal of what’s behind the chosen door. He instead gives the choice to the readers, simultaneously leaving them in a state of uncertainty and forcing them to choose.

    — Ian, Owl Eyes Staff
  12. Stockton wrote “The Lady, or the Tiger” at the dawn of the modern fantasy genre. Scottish author George MacDonald began to define the genre and its archetypes in the early to mid 1800s, and the genre that we know as “fantasy” began to solidify near the end of the Victorian era.

    — Ian, Owl Eyes Staff
  13. Traditionally, the word “barbarian” refers to those outside of a given empire. Most commonly used by the Romans to describe the northern european tribes, this definition was also used by the Macedonian and Chinese empires. However, it has more recently begun to mean general uncivilization. It is used in this story to refer to both the cruel nature of the characters as well as their position as outsiders to some fictional empire.

    — Ian, Owl Eyes Staff
  14. The introduction of the lover is where the story begins to take on a fantastical tone. The archetypal characters were always implicit, hidden beneath a thinly veiled historical realism, but now the Evil King, the Jealous Princess, and the Prince Charming really come into the spotlight in their recognizable forms.

    — Ian, Owl Eyes Staff
  15. This is where Stockton begins to hint at the story’s twist ending, or lack thereof. The “thinking part of the community” may serve as a implicit nod to his readership. Despite the apparent fairness of the system, the entire story is about displacing the final decision onto somebody else. In fact, the displacement of choice goes beyond the limits of the story itself, as the “whole matter” is in the hands and minds of the audience, not any of the characters.

    — Ian, Owl Eyes Staff
  16. Professional mourners, or moirologists, are traditionally employed for religious ceremonies, delivering eulogies, lamenting the deceased, etc. In Stockton’s story, the mourners are hired to increase the theatricality of the trials.

    — Ian, Owl Eyes Staff
  17. Because the king designed the entire system to rely on the choice of the man on trial, the eventual involvement of the princess complicates matters. Despite the king’s vengefulness and his oversimplification of justice, he is still a fair ruler. By leaving the verdict up to chance, there is no implicit bias. However, as soon as the princess discovers which door holds which fate, the system becomes biased and unfair.

    — Ian, Owl Eyes Staff
  18. This is an example of an oxymoron—two contradictory or incongruous words that create a more nuanced or deeper meaning. Here, it refers to the king’s “semi-barbaric” nature, as his idealism is tempered by his barbaric instincts and heritage. This phrase also serves as a criticism of the growing connection between violence and culture in the tale.

    — Ian, Owl Eyes Staff
  19. The barleycorn—the length of a grain of barley, which comes out to around a third of an inch—was once used as a unit of measurement. This use of the word was common until the 1870s. Although a little outdated, Stockton’s readers would have likely understood this use of the phrase, which in the modern vernacular reads “every inch a king,” or a king in every way.

    — Ian, Owl Eyes Staff
  20. The king created the arena for two purposes. The first purpose is to simplify the justice system. The arena and its doors make criminal trials simple: the man on trial chooses his own punishment, however blind the choice. The second purpose is to allow the king to connect with his barbarian half, which desires entertainment.

    — Ian, Owl Eyes Staff
  21. Much like the arena itself (“arena” being Latin for “sand”), the word “rhapsody” has classical roots, stemming from the Latin rhapsōdia, meaning “epic poem.” Rhapsodies are works of music that are characterized by great emotional ranges and a sense of improvisation. This is indicative of the unpredictable and traumatic lives and deaths of gladiators. A rhapsody is also a collection of people, which shows how many people have fallen victim to the king and his arena.

    — Ian, Owl Eyes Staff
  22. Although not a human character in the story, the arena plays just as crucial a role. A creation of the king’s modeled after the Roman Colosseum, the arena is used to judge the criminals of the kingdom. In the center of the arena there are two doors. Behind one, a ferocious tiger waits to maul the man on trial. Behind the other, a suitable bride sits. If the criminal opens the door with the bride, he will immediately be married to her The arena serves as a physical representation of the theme of consequence and choice. No matter the decision, there are grave and irreversible consequences. It also embodies the king’s simplification of justice, for underlying each punishment is random chance.

    — Ian, Owl Eyes Staff
  23. The duality of the king is reflective of the duality of the punishments at the arena. There is the barbaric and violent fate: death at the hands, or paws, of the tiger. However, there is also the more civilized fate: marriage to a suitable bride. This struggle between the refined and the cruel is a constant in the kingdom and a common theme of the story.

    — Ian, Owl Eyes Staff
  24. This statement about the importance of violence to culture can be read as a criticism of the serious-minded literature on the rise in Stockton’s this time. Stockton feared that as the turn of the century grew closer, the comical and somewhat detached nature of his work would become a relic of the past. Indeed, as modernism entered the literary realm with its solemn reactions to the horrors of the early 20th century, the Pre-Raphaelite ideals held by Stockton became quaint and inconsequential.

    — Ian, Owl Eyes Staff