A story my father told me when I was 7: A king asked his daughter how much she loved him. She said like a pinch of salt, whereupon in a rage the king expelled her from his palace. Before leaving she arranged for salt to be left out of the king’s food. Only then did he realise that being loved like a pinch of salt was better than at first appeared.
The tale is told in many versions, of which my father’s is the simplest. It’s known in England and western Europe, and there's a version from northern India. The common theme is that the king’s only (or youngest) daughter disappoints him, and suffers for it, but is vindicated in the end. The disappointment usually involves salt.
One version of the story, which doesn’t involve salt, is King Lear. Thanks to Shakespeare, it’s known around the world, and has eclipsed all other versions of the tale. A king has two scheming daughters and one honest daughter. He sets them a love test. The two scheming daughters profess extravagant devotion to their father but the honest daughter refuses to flatter and is banished. Over the course of the play the king discovers that his scheming daughters are scheming, that his honest daughter (whose name is Cordelia) is honest, and that he is a vain and foolish old man. He is reduced to penury and in this way discovers about the injustices of the world, over which he has for most of his life been only too happy to preside.
In my telling, I've merged my father’s story with King Lear. I've treated the opening scene as if it were the opening scene of the Shakespeare play, complete with stage directions.
If the two scheming daughters and the honest daughter put you in mind of Cinderella, you may be interested to know that there is an English version called Cap of Rushes, which does indeed include three daughters, salt and a Cinderella tale.
A final note. I have an inkling that my father told me this story in order to illustrate the virtue of salt in food. That was back in the 1950’s. Today, of course, we feel the need to warn children against salt, not to extol it. So that could be counted as a drawback of the story. But for all that, I'm much attached to it.
The story of King Lear and the pinch of salt
Once there was a king with three daughters. Two of them he loved so-so, but one of them he doted on. The king’s name was King Lear, and his favourite daughter was his youngest, Cordelia.
King Lear was a vain and proud old man, and one day he set his daughters a test, by asking them how much they loved him.
This wasn't really a good idea. But what made a bad idea a truly awful one, was that he decided to do it in public. In front of the whole court in fact. Picture a large audience chamber, King Lear seated on his throne, his three daughters arranged in front of him, and a throng of courtiers, lords, ladies and ministers. Pomp and trumpets. The trumpeters were seated behind the throne, and gave a blast every time the king spoke. This was meant to add drama to the occasion.
So there’s the scene as King Lear had set it up.
And here’s how it turned out. First, before the whole court, King Lear asked his eldest daughter how much she loved him. Blast of trumpets. His eldest daughter knew how to answer such a question. Father, your grace, she said, I love you as much as the moon and the sun. The old king’s chest swelled with pride, such a dutiful daughter, and all the court present to hear it.
Next he asked his second daughter how much she loved him. Blast of trumpets. The second daughter, too, knew how to answer such a question. She was slightly annoyed with her elder sister for the moon and sun stuff. She thought that kind of talk way too fancy, even for such a formal gathering as this. Well, she thought to herself, two can play that game. And out loud, in a strong clear voice, so all the court could hear, she said: Father, your grace, I love you as much as the sky and the stars. That’s fettled her! she thought to herself. Once more the King’s chest swelled with pride. Two dutiful daughters, and all the court present to hear it.
Finally he turned to his youngest daughter, his favourite on whom he doted, Cordelia.
Cordelia, he said, how much do you love me? Another blast of trumpets. He was thinking to himself, the moon and the sun! the sky and the stars! What will Cordelia say?
Cordelia spoke in a firm, but low, voice. Some of the courtiers at the back of the hall had to strain their ears to hear.
Father, she said, I love you as one loves a pinch of salt.
At first King Lear thought he must have misheard. He cleared his throat. Speak up Cordelia, he said, I didn’t hear. How much do you love me?
Cordelia replied a second time in a firm, but low, voice. I love you as one loves a pinch of salt.
The old king was stunned. In a hoarse whisper, he uttered: Child! Think what you are saying!
Cordelia said nothing.
Humiliated in front of the entire court, King Lear roared : Out! Never come near me again! Ungrateful wretch! Begone from my palace!
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| King Lear Disinheriting Cordelia by John Rogers Herbert (1850) Painting in Palace of Westminster, London |
Hearing the king roar Out!, all the courtiers took this to mean them, and rushed for the exits at the back of the hall. The trumpeters sneaked out through a small door behind the throne, Cordelia’s two elder sisters slipped away I'm not sure where, and the king stormed off into his chamber.
The empty hall echoed to the boots of two guards who stepped forward to escort Cordelia to her quarters. She was allowed to collect some things, before being shown out of the palace.
Cordelia wasn’t allowed to leave through the front door. No, she had to depart through the palace kitchen, and out of the back door like a servant. All the cooks and kitchen hands had heard about the goings-on upstairs in the audience chamber, and knew that Cordelia had been expelled. They were all shocked. Cordelia was their favourite. The king and the two elder princesses were proud and haughty, and never spoke to the kitchen staff. But Cordelia always had a kind word for everyone. Cordelia said to them, I have to go, I don’t know when I'll see you again. Some tears were shed. To the chief cook she said: Just one last thing, I wonder if you could please leave all salt out of the king’s food?
The chief cook nodded. She had heard that something had been said about salt, and a rumour that this was the cause of the trouble.
That night the king ate alone. The food had no taste but he thought this was because he was so downcast. The next day, and the next, the king’s food had no taste, but he was so downcast he didn’t care. At length he called for the royal doctor. I am downcast he said, and my food has no taste. The doctor thought to himself, well I know why you are downcast, you treat your daughters as ornaments to make you look high and mighty before the court, two of them play along with this nonsense, and the one who is honest is the one you expel from your palace. You’re coming to the end of your life, a time to be clear-sighted. But your foolish old eyes have become dim.
Needless to say, the doctor didn’t say any of this out loud.
But he did go to see the palace cook, and asked if she could spice the king’s food up a bit. No, actually, she said, I can't. The last instruction I had was from Cordelia. And she’s a princess. She said no salt.
Aha! thought the doctor. Clever girl! He told the king: Since Cordelia left there's been no salt. You’ll have to tell the cook to add a pinch of salt to your food.
A pinch of salt!
The king sent messengers out to every corner of his kingdom to search for Cordelia and ask her to come back. I hope they found her and I hope she did come back.
But in itself, that wouldn't really count as a happy ending. The only truly happy ending would be if the king realized that he was a vain and foolish old man, and changed his ways. Perhaps he did. We must hope so at any rate.
