Oh dear. This is a story without an ending. Some people don't like those sort of things--they prefer that conclusions are wrapped up neatly, for better or worse. Well, that's the ending of this story: for better or worse. And no, it's not about marriage--but rather, one of the key components upon which SOME marriages are made: that silly little thing called "love."
This story came out in 1882, and it REALLY upset a lot of people--partially because of the insinuation (the cause-and-effect) that the author, Frank R. Stockton, was hinting at regarding human nature. We ARE a violent species, you know--but we are ALSO a very enlightened and spiritual creature too--at times. This also takes into account the same lessons that have been spoken of for SO many centuries: when we stop wanting everything OUR way, we may find happiness. I said we MAY find happiness. Some people can't stop wanting it THEIR way for happiness fulfilled as you may have noted in the short story on this site, "The Necklace."
So: just as the man said in the end of the story, "Who came out? The lady or the tiger?" Please explain to me in paragraph format (oh, I'd say four) your answer--and please use references or direct quotes (sentences) from the story to back up your point. By the way, if you have any need for research, look up the name "Medea" and see what she did when things didn't go her way. You may also look up the phrase "Hell knoweth no fury...." Meanwhile: "Knock-knock, who's there?" I hope your choice is the right one. Your life--or the person you are sponsoring in this "contest"--depends on it.
The
Lady Or The Tiger? By 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 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**?
The
End
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