The story of “The Three Crones” has many names. “The Three Crones” is one. “The Three Old Ladies” is another. But the most common is “The King Who Wanted a Beautiful Wife.” This name comes from the old practice of naming a story after the male character, even when he has a lesser or more insignificant role. In this case, these old women, deserve the focus and so that is where we will place it.
The story was collected by Laura Gonzenbach, a Swiss-German woman, who was born in 1842. She is described as “a scrupulous avant-garde scholar of popular traditions.” She was well educated and mastered several languages. When an historian asked her to find some folktales to include in a book he was writing, she sent him over 90. She collected stories told by peasant women and translated them into literary German. The stories were collected from eastern Sicily and surrounding areas. She compiled them into a two-volume collection of (Sicilianische Märchen) Sicilian Folktales, published in 1870.
Academics choose not to call her a folklorist because “she wasn’t trained” as such and also because her notes were lost in an earthquake. The argument is that she may have revised them. Hello! Well, I don’t think the Grimm brothers or Andrew Lang were trained as folklorists either, and we know how the Grimms changed stories over time. So, the dismissal of her work is just one way to exclude one of the few collections of stories compiled by a woman in the 19th century. Thankfully, Jack Zipes has produced an English translation of her work. It’s entitled “Beautiful Angiola: The Lost Sicilian Folk and Fairy Tales of Laura Gonzenbach” (2003).
The version I’ve crafted for you today comes from three sources: Italian Folktales by Italo Calvino. The 29th story in his collection is “The Three Crones,” from Venice. Calvino was an Italian novelist who in 1956 collated tales found in 19th century collections and then translated 200 of them into everyday Italian. The next source is the Italian Popular Tales, by Thomas Frederick Cane, published in 1885. This story is entitled “The King Who Wanted a Beautiful Wife.” Crane was a 19th century American folklorist, and lawyer librarian. And finally, from Andrew Lang’s Pink Fairy Book, we find “The King Who Would Have a Beautiful Wife.” Lang was a poet, novelist who along with his wife collected folk and fairy tales. Leonora Blanche Lang, Lang’s wife, should have been credited as author, collaborator, or even translator of the rainbow fairy books that he edited, but she wasn’t. Yet, another woman whose work is ignored!
With all that in mind, here is my mashup version of the Three Crones.
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Long ago, there were three sisters who lived together. They would bicker and they had their petty jealousy. But that was to be expected of sisters, especially those who were young. You see, the first was a mere child of 67 years, the second was 75 and the third, was 94. They lived together somewhat happily and never left their home. Although they were quite poor, their house had a little balcony with a window where they could look down on the passers-by below.
One day, the oldest of the sisters, saw a handsome young man walking toward the house. As he approached, she dropped her handkerchief from the window. It landed at his feet. The handkerchief was handmade with beautiful lace and embroidery and was scented with a lovely fragrance. The young man picked it up sniffed it and immediately concluded that this handkerchief must belong to a beautiful woman. Perhaps the most beautiful in all the world.
But this was the crown prince, the very crown prince whose mother and ministers had been pressuring to marry. But no matter what maiden was presented to him, none met his exacting requirements. For the prince, would only marry a beautiful woman, one as beautiful as the sun.
Well, what did does it mean to be as beautiful as the sun? No one quite knew. His mother didn’t know because she presented to him a woman with a widow’s peak on her forehead. And his viziers? They didn’t know beauty for they showed him a woman with a mole on her cheek. “Beautiful? I think not!” said the prince.
Everyone in the kingdom thought the prince would never marry. That was, until the delicate handkerchief was dropped. “Ah,” the prince said, “I’m sure the maiden who owns this handkerchief is as beautiful as the sun. I must see her face.”
Excited, the prince ran to the door, knocked, and waited. He asked if he could have some water. After a bit, he saw what appeared to be a beautiful hand. It reached out through the shutter and handed him the cup. This hand was very fair and delicate (at least it seemed to be).
“Are there young women living in this house?” he asked.
“Yes,” was the reply, “there are three of us.”
“Well then, are you the one who dropped the handkerchief? If so, I would love to meet you.”
She replied, “In our tradition, a lady can’t be seen until she is married. Besides, my parents treasured me. Since my birth, no sun’s ray ever touched my skin. If it did so now, I would lose my beauty.” Then, she closed the door.
But the prince kept thinking about the handkerchief and that beautiful hand. He was enamored with the hand and imagined how its maiden looked. It became his obsession.
The next day, the prince returned to the house and proposed to the maiden without a single thought. And she, even more quickly, said yes. The prince ran back to the palace and told his mother what he had done. She said, “Son, you can’t judge a woman by her hand alone. It might be a trick, after all. Think this through.”
The prince could not hear reason. Instead, he said, “I have thought it through. I love her and know she is beautiful. I will marry her sight unseen.”
But the Queen was right, a mere hand was no measure of a maiden’s beauty. Because this hand had spent its life spinning. It remained soft and young, while the rest of the body? Ah, it reflected the passage of time.
Still, the prince wouldn’t listen. He returned to the maiden’s house and knocked on the door. A crone answered the door and the prince asked. “Are you her grandmother?”
“Yes, that’s right, I’m her grandmother.”
“Please! Since you’re the grandmother, grant me permission to see at least her finger.”
“No, not now. You’ll have to return tomorrow.”
The prince said goodbye and left. As soon as he was gone, the crones busied themselves making an artificial finger from a glove and a false fingernail from a seashell.
In the meantime, his obsession and desire to see the finger kept the prince awake all night. When the sun came up, he dressed and ran to the house.
“Madam,” he said to the crone. “I’ve come to see my bride’s finger.”
“Yes, yes,” she replied, “right away. You’ll see it through the keyhole of this door.”
The bride pushes the false finger through the keyhole. Bewitched by its beauty, the young man kissed the finger and slipped a diamond ring onto it. Head over heels in love by then, he said to the crone, “I must marry her forthwith, Granny, I can wait no longer.”
“You can marry her tomorrow, if you like.”
“Perfect! I’ll marry her tomorrow, on my honor as the future king!”
Being incredibly skilled in sewing and other domestic arts, the three old women were able to get everything ready overnight for the wedding, down to the tiniest detail. The next day the bride dressed with the help of her two little sisters. The prince arrived and said, “I’m here Granny! Bring out my bride!”
“Wait just a minute, sonny, and we’ll bring her to you.”
After a while, the bride-to-be walked out arm in arm with her sisters. She was covered with seven veils. “Remember,” said the sisters, “you may not look at her face until you are in the bridal chamber.”
The prince and his entourage arrived at the cathedral and the couple were married. Afterwards the prince wanted them all to go to dinner, but the crones would not allow it.
“Your bride isn’t used to such foolishness,” they argued. The prince didn’t argue because he was dying for night to come when he could be alone with the bride. The crones finally took her to their room but made him wait outside while they undressed her and put her to bed. At last, the prince was allowed in. He found the bride under the covers and the two old sisters still busying about the room. He undressed, and the old women went off with the lamp. But the prince brought along a candle in his pocket. He must see her beautiful face. He took the candle, lit it, and then? What should he see but an old, withered crone with wrinkles!
For an instant he was speechless and paralyzed with fright. Then in a fit of rage, he seized his wife and hurled her out through the window.
Under the window was a vine-covered trellis. The old crone went crashing through the trellis, but the hem of her night gown caught on a broken slat and held her dangling in the air.
That night three fairies happened to be strolling through the gardens. Passing under the trellis, they spied the dangling crone. At that unexpected sight, all three fairies burst out laughing and laughed until their sides hurt. But when they had laughed their fill, one of them said, “Now that we’ve had such a good laugh at her expense, we must reward her.”
“Even if she is an old woman who fooled the prince? Shouldn’t we just wish for her dress to tear and let her fall?
“Oh, no! Let us not do that,” cried the youngest and most beautiful of the fairies. “Let us instead wish her something good
“I wish that you become the most beautiful maiden in the world,” said the first.
The second fairy continued. “I wish that you have the most handsome husband and that he loves you with all his heart.”
“I wish,” said the third fairy, “that you be a great noble lady your whole life long.”
At that, the fairies moved on.
At dawn, the prince awakened and remembered everything that had happened. To make sure it wasn’t just a bad dream, he opened the window. He wanted to see the monster he’d thrown out the night before. But there on the trellis sat the loveliest maiden! He put his hands on his head. He was terrified and wailed. “Stupid man! What have I done! Had I no eyes last night? What’s wrong with me!”
He had no idea how to draw her up, but he finally took a sheet from the bed, threw her an end to grab hold of, then pulled her up into the room. Overjoyed to have her beside him once more, he begged for her forgiveness, which she gave, and they became the best of friends.
In a little while a knock was heard on the door. “It must be your Granny,” said the prince. “Come in, come in!”
The old women entered and saw in bed, in place of their 94-year-old sister, the loveliest young lady, who said, as through nothing were amiss, “Clementine, bring me my coffee.”
The old crone put a hand over her mouth to stifle a cry of amazement. Pretending everything was just as it should be, she went off and got the coffee. But the minute the prince left the room to attend his business, her sister asked.
“What did you do to become so young and lovely? I too, would like to be young and pretty again.” She kept asking the whole day, until the new princess finally lost her patience, and said, “I had my old skin taken off, and this new smooth skin came to light.”
“What?!” cried out her sister.
“Shhhh!” cautioned the princess. “Lower your voice, please! Just wait until you hear what I did. I had myself planed!”
“Planed? Planed? Who did it for you? I’m going to get planed too.”
Without a single smile, the princess replied, “The carpenter!”
The old woman ran to the carpenter’s shop as fast as her rickety legs would take her.
“Carpenter, will you give me a good planing?”
“Oh, my goodness!” exclaimed the carpenter. “You’re already dead wood. If I plane you, you’ll go to kingdom come.”
“Don’t give it a thought.”
“What do you mean, not give it a thought? After I’ve killed you, what then?
“Don’t worry, I tell you. Here’s a silver coin for your efforts.”
When the old woman offered him a coin, the carpenter changed his mind. He took the money and said, “Lie down here on the workbench, and I’ll plane you all you like,” and he proceeded to plane her jaw.
The crone let out a scream.
“Now, now! If you scream, we won’t get a thing done.”
She replied, “Who will look fair, must grieve and pain bear.”
She rolled over, and the carpenter planed the other jaw. The old crone screamed no more: she was dead as dead can be.
Nothing more was ever heard of the third crone. Whether she drowned, had her throat slit, died in bed or elsewhere, no one knows.
And the bride? She remained young and beautiful with a handsome prince who loved her so. But perhaps she was not such a great and noble lady even though she did live somewhat happily ever after.
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“The Three Crones” is a story about obsession, deception, and gullibility. The old woman in the story lies, deceives and pretends to be someone she was not. She acts as a trickster and imposter, creating both a hoax of youth and a sham marriage. And the prince? Well, he is a naïve gullible fool blinded by his obsession.
The old woman is the oldest of the three crones. Rather than appearing to be slow, feeble or demented, this oldest crone is the cleverest of them all. She is so clever in fact that she can trick or con the prince. The first “trick” in the story comes from the prince’s own bias for he believes that a beautiful finger must be attached to a beautiful maiden - one who is as beautiful as the sun.
As we’ll see, youth led to the prince’s impetuous behavior. For even when his mother tells him to think and wait, he just becomes more enamored of the fantasy, one that he mostly created inside his head. This part of the story is familiar. It’s contemporary. It’s a story about Internet dating. The stories of fraud and despair. People who fall in love with a single photo. The photo that lies and doesn’t belong to the person being talked to. Young girls who are lured by pedophiles and old women who have lost their life savings to people who live far, far away. But in this story, it’s not an email or a text message that seals the deal, but a finger.
So, we know this part of the story. It has happened to someone we know or maybe even ourselves. This version, however, is humorous, as we imagine the creation of the finger made from a stuffed glove and a piece of shell. We can envision the three sisters bickering about the best approach to take. The best way for her is to give him the finger.
Now in today’s parlance, giving someone the finger is not a complement. And it’s not here either. It is the hook in the con and the prince takes it. All he wants is beauty: beauty to possess, beauty to acquire, and beauty to observe.
Now we know why these old women engage in the con, why they lie and deceive. They are poor and desperate, and anyone could see the young prince was an easy mark. It starts with a lie (who owns the handkerchief? Are there young women living here?), moves to an action (the making of the finger) and ends with a story (why she must remain in darkness). The hiding of the mate is a common motif and, in each story, I know like this, someone looks even when told not to. They turn on the light. They grow curious. They uncover the truth. The prince does the same thing. He brings a candle, lights it and is shocked and angered by what he sees. Instead of a beautiful woman in his bed, he sees an old crone. There is no relationship here between the two. Each is simply using the other. There was no love or connection at this point. From the prince’s point of view, the relationship was about lust and acquisition. To the old woman it was all about wealth. Each is simply using the other, which was often the nature of marriage long ago and even to this day.
The prince is scared and angry. He throws the old woman out the window where she lands on a trellis. That’s where she waits to either fall or be rescued. At this time, fairies are out for a stroll. They see her hanging and begin to laugh. Now in many stories, fairies are as likely to curse you as to favor you. But in this instance, the old woman is given three blessings. The first two blessings seem normal. The old woman will become beautiful, and she will have a handsome husband who loves her. These appear to be coming true. The final blessing was different. It was that the now young woman would always be a noble lady. This, however, never occurred.
Dawn comes and the prince discovers his mistake. He rescues his now young bride. Her sisters come in the morning and discover her transformation. One of them wants to know how she acquired her youth. After a lot of questioning, the bride gets irritated and tells yet another lie. There is no nobility in this woman no matter how she was blessed. The bride tells her sister that she had a carpenter plane her face. This is a truly ridiculous statement. But her sister is obsessed with the idea of magical youth. And yet again, the bride uses this obsession and gullibility for her own end. The crone puts reason and logic aside, finds a carpenter and asks that he plane her. When he refuses, she gives him a coin. He’s now more agreeable to her demands and begins the planing which naturally leads to her death.
The story says the third sister disappears and the couple lives happily ever after. But I have my doubts. Happily, ever after with a lying trickster and an impulsive superficial Prince? Not for long.
So, the question remains. What will we do and what cost are we willing to bear for our own obsessions? What will we do for youth, beauty, power, wealth, or fame. The story offers a warning; not to be naïve, not to become too desperate, not to remain gullible. If the prince had taken his mother’s advice he wouldn’t have married someone without inner beauty. If the old woman had listened to the carpenter, she might be wrinkled but she’d still be alive.
Lies, scams and fraud. It’s all about how we get tricked and who tricks us. We are tricked because we allow ourselves to be. Because we only see what we want to see. Because we let pundits or fake news ensnare us. Because we are blinded by our own stupidity and naivete. Using reason, practicality and critical thinking may be considered a buzzkill to romance. But in a world full of lies and deception it’s the only way to determine the truth. Being a crone doesn’t automatically make you wise. The three sisters in this story show us that. Wisdom requires reflection, knowledge, experience, logic and reason. The Queen in this story was the only one who exemplified such wisdom. Perhaps she’s the only wise crone after all.
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