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 untrammelled, 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 any thing, 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
amphitheatre, 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 tile 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 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
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 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 or 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 a 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 ,he 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 tile fairest and
lovelies-L 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 Rash; 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 eve
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 ow you: Which came
out of the opened door,--the lady, or the tiger?
B&L Associates, Renton, Washington, U.S.A.