The Baker's Daughters
"They say the owl was a baker's daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be."
William Shakespeare, Hamlet (Ophelia) Act 4, Scene 5
In school, I was surprised to encounter this quote and not need the teacher's explanation. Not only did I know what Shakespeare was getting at, but also his original source. I had read the story of the baker's daughter many years before in the folktales I read for entertainment. That I could share some common knowledge with an Elizabethan poet (some would say The Elizabethan poet) was interesting, but it shows how these stories, told again and again to children, are a thread that runs through time. Shakespeare's reference may have contributed to keeping the story alive in my age, but that doesn't negate the significance. It reinforces it. We lift up the stories from our childhood and throw them forward for future generations to discover. That's how folklore works.
In the story of the baker's daughter, the virtues of compassion and generosity are compared against selfishness and indifference or cruelty. Two sisters are approached in turn by a poor old woman begging for a piece of dough. The first offers a large piece of dough and makes the woman comfortable while she bakes it for her. The bread comes out doubled in size, and the girl is happy to present it to the hungry beggar. On the following day, the second sister grudgingly cuts off a small bit of dough and only puts it in the oven when the old woman asks. When the bread doubles in size, she judges it too fine for a beggar and tries again. A second smaller piece of dough flourishes similarly, and again she keeps the loaf for herself. Finally, she puts the tiniest bit of dough she can manage into the oven. When it, too, results in a wonderful loaf, the girl tells the old woman that it burned and laughs "hoo, hoo" as she denies the beggar's request. The woman, who is a fairy in disguise, blesses the first daughter with the ability to double everything she bakes, but changes the second into an owl as punishment for her selfishness.
The tale is a familiar theme in folklore. It may wear different dressing and vary in the details, but many cultures have their version. Always, we see two people given the opportunity to do the right thing, the kind thing, and we watch as they make their different choices. Always, they believe themselves unobserved except by the recipient of their kindness or cruelty, and generally that recipient appears either old, poor, or otherwise unprestigious in society. When they learn the true identity of the person they've encountered, it's too late to change their behaviour, and they are rewarded or punished according to their deeds. The reader or listener knows which is the right choice from the start. It's made clear enough through the story, and there's a certain satisfaction in seeing the judgement played out.
The stories we tell ourselves again and again must be important to us. Certainly, they are important within our culture, but when the theme recurs across cultural borders, they must be important on a deeper human level. This story in all it's forms means something to us as human beings.
Because the tested are almost always girls, we could assume that it's just a model of virtues we expect from women. Good girls are expected to be sweet, kind, generous, obliging and humble. But this is just the surface level of interpretation. A story this universal probably touches deeper than gender roles and is meant to be an example for us all. We may see the message that good will be rewarded and evil punished, along with examples of what sorts of things we put into each category. We can clearly see that society disapproves of selfishness, greed, cruelty. We are expected to recognize the needs of another human being regardless of their class, regardless of how old or poor or dirty they may be. The promise that such good behaviour will be rewarded is meant to be comforting, or at least encouraging, just as the threat of punishment discourages the bad. Stories like this are one of the ways parents and society at large instill their morals in the next generation.
But there is another aspect of the story that more closely matches the meaning of Shakespeare's reference. Each of the baker's daughters made their choice without knowing they might have reward or punishment in store. Each acted according to their inclination. Thus, we only learn who we really are when we think nobody is watching. There are layers of image we show to the world, but it's the true nature underneath it all that's really important. How we treat the least of our brothers when we think nothing is at stake defines the core of us.
The reward/punishment concept is so ingrained in us as a means of controlling behaviour that it is difficult for some to see this basic message. For example, I've heard some people conclude that atheists lack principles because they don't believe in divine judgement. Religious types who think that an atheist will behave badly because he doesn't believe God is watching over him are probably only behaving well because they think He is. It all comes down to that true nature at the core of the individual. If you sincerely believe that all people are worthy of compassion, respect, and kindness, then you will treat them accordingly. What others think of that, even the powerful, is really irrelevant.
Does this story then say that there's nothing we can do about our true nature? If you're good, you're good, and if you're bad, you have no choice but end up an owl. Not so. For purposes of the tale, we have the good sister and the bad one. As we tell it, the unkind girl will never have the chance to mend her ways. But each sister passes through a point where she must decide what her true nature is. Faced with an opportunity to help another human being who suffers, they each make a choice. We are faced with these opportunities time after time, and each is a chance to cultivate that core.
"They say the owl was a baker's daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be."
Who will you be?
William Shakespeare, Hamlet (Ophelia) Act 4, Scene 5
In school, I was surprised to encounter this quote and not need the teacher's explanation. Not only did I know what Shakespeare was getting at, but also his original source. I had read the story of the baker's daughter many years before in the folktales I read for entertainment. That I could share some common knowledge with an Elizabethan poet (some would say The Elizabethan poet) was interesting, but it shows how these stories, told again and again to children, are a thread that runs through time. Shakespeare's reference may have contributed to keeping the story alive in my age, but that doesn't negate the significance. It reinforces it. We lift up the stories from our childhood and throw them forward for future generations to discover. That's how folklore works.
In the story of the baker's daughter, the virtues of compassion and generosity are compared against selfishness and indifference or cruelty. Two sisters are approached in turn by a poor old woman begging for a piece of dough. The first offers a large piece of dough and makes the woman comfortable while she bakes it for her. The bread comes out doubled in size, and the girl is happy to present it to the hungry beggar. On the following day, the second sister grudgingly cuts off a small bit of dough and only puts it in the oven when the old woman asks. When the bread doubles in size, she judges it too fine for a beggar and tries again. A second smaller piece of dough flourishes similarly, and again she keeps the loaf for herself. Finally, she puts the tiniest bit of dough she can manage into the oven. When it, too, results in a wonderful loaf, the girl tells the old woman that it burned and laughs "hoo, hoo" as she denies the beggar's request. The woman, who is a fairy in disguise, blesses the first daughter with the ability to double everything she bakes, but changes the second into an owl as punishment for her selfishness.
The tale is a familiar theme in folklore. It may wear different dressing and vary in the details, but many cultures have their version. Always, we see two people given the opportunity to do the right thing, the kind thing, and we watch as they make their different choices. Always, they believe themselves unobserved except by the recipient of their kindness or cruelty, and generally that recipient appears either old, poor, or otherwise unprestigious in society. When they learn the true identity of the person they've encountered, it's too late to change their behaviour, and they are rewarded or punished according to their deeds. The reader or listener knows which is the right choice from the start. It's made clear enough through the story, and there's a certain satisfaction in seeing the judgement played out.
The stories we tell ourselves again and again must be important to us. Certainly, they are important within our culture, but when the theme recurs across cultural borders, they must be important on a deeper human level. This story in all it's forms means something to us as human beings.
Because the tested are almost always girls, we could assume that it's just a model of virtues we expect from women. Good girls are expected to be sweet, kind, generous, obliging and humble. But this is just the surface level of interpretation. A story this universal probably touches deeper than gender roles and is meant to be an example for us all. We may see the message that good will be rewarded and evil punished, along with examples of what sorts of things we put into each category. We can clearly see that society disapproves of selfishness, greed, cruelty. We are expected to recognize the needs of another human being regardless of their class, regardless of how old or poor or dirty they may be. The promise that such good behaviour will be rewarded is meant to be comforting, or at least encouraging, just as the threat of punishment discourages the bad. Stories like this are one of the ways parents and society at large instill their morals in the next generation.
But there is another aspect of the story that more closely matches the meaning of Shakespeare's reference. Each of the baker's daughters made their choice without knowing they might have reward or punishment in store. Each acted according to their inclination. Thus, we only learn who we really are when we think nobody is watching. There are layers of image we show to the world, but it's the true nature underneath it all that's really important. How we treat the least of our brothers when we think nothing is at stake defines the core of us.
The reward/punishment concept is so ingrained in us as a means of controlling behaviour that it is difficult for some to see this basic message. For example, I've heard some people conclude that atheists lack principles because they don't believe in divine judgement. Religious types who think that an atheist will behave badly because he doesn't believe God is watching over him are probably only behaving well because they think He is. It all comes down to that true nature at the core of the individual. If you sincerely believe that all people are worthy of compassion, respect, and kindness, then you will treat them accordingly. What others think of that, even the powerful, is really irrelevant.
Does this story then say that there's nothing we can do about our true nature? If you're good, you're good, and if you're bad, you have no choice but end up an owl. Not so. For purposes of the tale, we have the good sister and the bad one. As we tell it, the unkind girl will never have the chance to mend her ways. But each sister passes through a point where she must decide what her true nature is. Faced with an opportunity to help another human being who suffers, they each make a choice. We are faced with these opportunities time after time, and each is a chance to cultivate that core.
"They say the owl was a baker's daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be."
Who will you be?
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