 Family Theatre presents Patricia Neal, Jean Cagney and Glenn Langen. Hollywood the Mutual Network in cooperation with Family Theatre presents Jean Cagney and Glenn Langen in the triumphant exile. To introduce the drama, your hostess, Patricia Neal. Thank you, Jean Baker. Family Theatre's only purpose is to bring to everyone's attention a practice that must become an important part of our lives if we are to win peace for ourselves, peace for our families and peace for the world. Family Theatre urges you to pray. Pray together as a family. Once when told he was a genius, Robert Louis Stevenson said, what genius I have is for work. This is true in part for he spent his entire life learning to write better. But I think there's also genius in the fact that he never lost the vision of his childhood. Else how could he have written the stories you and I have thrilled to when we pretended to be pirates digging for buried treasure? Or kidnapped by wicked old uncles and forced to sail in ships on the high seas? These are the stories that will live forever. But so will the beloved Scotch author who wrote them. Family Theatre takes pride in presenting Glenn Langen as Stevenson, Jean Cagney as Fanny Osborn and Carlton Young as Lloyd Osborn who tells the story of the triumphant exile, the story of Robert Louis Stevenson. High upon a mountain top looking away to the sea is a grave beside a grave. In the distance is heard the roar of the surf and the wind blows. The climb is steep. It would be unlike most visitors to the island of Samoa to make the climb. But now as I sit here upon the summit my thoughts are of this man whose grave I face and of the woman who sleeps beside him. And suddenly it seemed only yesterday and before me stretches the new green forest of Fontainebleau in the south of France. The year is 1876. We'd come all the way from America shortly after my father died. We stayed in Paris for a time then came to the inn at the village of Gretz because mother wanted to paint. Painting, she said, could help her to forget so many things. Mama, what's that? A tiger lily. I'm painting a tiger lily. It doesn't look like one. It looks like any old flower. Oh, run along, Lloyd. Mother wants to be alone for a while with her thoughts. I knew my mother was grieving but I was too young to understand. An artist's colony is no place to amuse an eight year old boy and I was restless. I wandered along the riverbank until I came to where there sat a funny looking man wiggling his toes in the water and writing in a small notebook. He was tall and thin with long golden hair, a tiny mustache and very shabby clothes. I thought he must be terribly poor. You got your toes wet. You must be Lloyd. How do you know? Because your mother is a lady of mystery. Where is she? I'm painting a silly old picture. I have nothing to do. Then come sit beside me. I'll tell you a story. What kind of a story? Well, let us see, Lloyd. Look yonder through the trees. It's just an old building tumbling down. That once was a castle belonging to a noble knight. And one day pirates came from far off Spain and sailing through this river reached the forests of Fontainebleau. They were vicious. I'd like this story teller because there was nothing I like better than to hear an exciting tale of adventure. Later he took me for a ride in his boat, the Rob Roy and we paddled upstream until we came to a spot opposite to where my mother sat painting. A lulley, as I call him, suggested we anchor his pirate ship and kidnap the lady of mystery who was obviously struggling with canvas and paint. Mama, mama, I'm a pirate and I sailed up the river to kidnap you and... Kidnap me, oh. And who is... Well, this is Lolly, mama. He talks real funny but he tells wonderful stories. Hello. I hope Lloyd hasn't been bothering you. To the contrary, he gave me an opportunity to meet you. Oh? Well, let me introduce myself. I'm Fanny Osby. Hi, and you're from America and you have two children. One who is a school in San Francisco and you are a lady of mystery. Mystery? Then you know all about me. Certainly. Why? Why? Because you are the only woman in the colony. Is this unusual? Unusual. Do you know you're the only woman who I ever come to grits? No. Obviously Americans are uninhibited. No, I never thought... This colony is for artists. But I am an artist. Huh? Let me see. No. No, you are not an artist. But you do remind me of that flower you are painting. The Tiger Lily. Delicate. Lovely. A passionate color. For a man so young and a stranger too, you really are quite personal. Well, everyone admires a lady as beautiful as you. What is age? And besides, I'm 26. Then you're just plain rude. So I might be. But a man in love can afford to be rude. In love? Yes. A Tiger Lily. Oh, this is ridiculous. Who are you? Louis Stevenson. Oh, of course. The Scotchman who arrived just last night. Hey, with me, Cousin Bob. We met at the Inman voyage during the river between here and Paris. One of you is a writer and the others a painter. I heard about you at the Inn. Well, since we've heard about each other and since we're so well acquainted, how would you like to go canoeing? Oh, I don't think that I... Oh, yes, Mama. You'll have fun. And Lily can paddle good. If you refuse, we'll have to kidnap you. Oh, no. This sounds too dangerous. All right, Lloyd. Come. We'll carry the lady and miss free off to our ship. And then we'll put her in iron and chains. Down in the hole? Aye, aye, laddie. Until we've reached sea. Then what? Then, madam, we'll mock you, walk the plunk. It was good to hear mother laugh again. Young as I was, I couldn't help noticing that Louis and she were attracted to one another. As the summer months passed, I grew to associate them together. And in a childish way, I think it made me very happy. Then one day I came upon them in the garden. Hello. Mother and her easel, neither of them heard me. Because of shyness, I suppose I hid behind the gate. Fanny, I... I can't tell you how much this summer has meant. What inspiration you have meant to me. You're a good writer, Louis. You don't need me for inspiration. You're wrong, Fanny. I need you, but I have no right. No right? Did you not know why it is that I came to the Seuss of France? No. Well, the doctor ordered me to leave Scotland. I'll die. Oh, Louis. It's my lungs. I kind of stand the fog and the cold. So I'm an exile for Medenburg with only tears for the past. Oh, I'm so sorry, Louis. Oh, I despise. Do you know what it is? What it is like to be away from your family, your country. I... I know what it is to be away from... someone. Oh, Fanny, forgive me if I bring you back memories. You never asked me about my husband, Louis. I buried him not long ago. Oh, Fanny, I'm sorry. So you see, we both have our crosses to bear. Oh, I know this is too soon to declare myself, but Fanny, I love you. You're very sweet, Louis, but you must forget all about this. I think you care for me a little. Yes. Yes, I... I think I do. Fanny, I'm proposing to you. I know I shouldn't, but I am. Louis, I think it best to go away. Well, then I'm coming with you. No. No, it's better I go alone. My heart still belongs to... Well, there are so many things I must forget, and I think it's best I try to forget them alone. Mother told me our money was almost gone and we were returning to America. I was happy at the thought of going home, but when the time came to part and we stood at the dock near the ship that was to carry us away, a sudden pain struck at my heart. I thought we would never see him again. It looks so long standing there. This is goodbye, Louis. I wish you would let me come with you, Fanny. No. No, it's better to think of this parting as final. You know I know, Louis. Don't you see, Louis, I must face going home. I have a responsibility to my children, and I must be able to make a new life for myself. Fanny, I want to be part of that life. Perhaps someday if it's meant to be, but now there's still too much that ties me to the past. Do you see that, Louis? I... If I should ever send for you, then you'll know that I've freed myself of all memories, and you'll also know that it's you I love. I live only for that day. Work hard, Louis. Time will pass. Why, yes, Fanny, but all my prayers are going to be when you and I can be together. You must write and write and write, Louis. You have great talent. Maybe someday I'll write something worthwhile, sometime. Someday you'll write many great stories, Louis. This I know. And suddenly you'll be famous. The whole world will know the name of Robert Louis Stevenson. Sail for San Francisco. And when I was 11, we moved to Monterey, a sleepy old Mexican town down the California coast. But a quandary my mother was in I'll never know, or the agony that was in her heart. She would sit for hours in the warm sunshine, dreaming perhaps of happier days in Paris and Gretz. Then suddenly a mysterious excitement began, caused by a lot of letter writing. My mother waiting impatiently for the post to arrive with more letters. And one morning with a curious new brightness in her eyes, she said. Lloyd, Lloyd, I have news for you. Lulie is coming. Good, Lulie. All there by, as I planned what I was going to say when I saw you. Oh, words aren't important. No, no, only us, Fanny. We're together again. I'm here, too. Let me look at you, laddie. I'll tell you, I've grown. I got my own boat now. We can race in it, Lulie. I'll play pirates. And dig for buried treasure. Lulie, oh, you've grown so thin. Lloyd would say I'm a baka bone. Gee, you'll make a skinny pirate. We'll fatten you up soon. Now, where are you going to stay? I didn't know. Well, there's a house on the hill owned by Senor Gortez. And you'll love him. He's a nice picturesque old pezzano. And you can rent a room there just for the time being. Lulie, I've waited a long time. Wait, wait, Lulie. Lloyd, dear, will you go out into the garden? No, no, no, let the Lord hear what I'm about to say. You may not like it, laddie, but I hope you will. I'm going to marry your mother, Lloyd. What, laddie? What do you say? I couldn't utter a word to say my life. I was speechless. I knew I should say something, but what? My hand crept into his and a sense of happiness came flooding over me. From that day forth, Robert Louis Stevenson became my bosom friend. Now as I sit here upon the summit, and those years are behind me, I realize what a driving will he had, as if time were growing short and everything might not be accomplished, that the things he had to write might never be written. He had been in Monterey only two days when Senor Gortez brought us the terrible news. Senor Osborn! Senor Osborn! Senor, open the door! What is it, Senor? Oh, he must come quickly. What has happened? Is it Louis? Senor Stevenson, he's very sick. You mean he's had an attack? Yes, Senor. Is he dying? I do not know, Senor. I must get a doctor quickly. Come, there's no time to lose. Hard journey and lack of food that caused it, and the cold Monterey fog. It had all been too much for Louis, but with mother's strength and courage, she nursed him through. And soon the day came when he was able to sit up again. Funny, give me some paper on my pen. Now, Louis, you've been ill. You need rest. You've found it, woman. I have got to write. You will write, but not until the color comes back into your cheeks. The armature immaculate. I will call the story, and... Oh, it's the fog coming in from the sea. I'll close the shutters. Lassie, the room will be dark and unfriendly. It's not a very nice room, but as soon as you will, and... there, then we'll be married, and then... why, Louis? Louis, what's wrong? I... I received a letter from my family in Scotland. They have stopped my allowance. Oh? What will I do? Is it because of me? Because I'm older than you? No, no, no. Because I have two children and I'm American? No, no, funny. You know what it's not. No, Louis. It's easy to understand their way of thinking. If they only knew you. Some prospect are husband and kin to be. How will I take care of you? Well, if you can't take care of me, I'll take care of you. We'll go to some place high in the mountains where there's lots of fresh air and sunshine and no fogs to make you ill. Oh. It's just what you need. But my friend, we're... we're not Miss Monterey. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters, but getting you well and keeping you happy. This is it. This is Silverado. And there, there's the bunkhouse we're to use. Our new home. You can't mean it. There are no windows in the place. Gee, it's falling down. Well, this is it. Because there's the mine right behind the house. It fits the description all right. Jean Ghost wouldn't have lived here. Louis, it really is pretty awful. Aye. Nothing but dust and sand and weeds growing through the floors. Where's the furniture? Oh, what difference does it make? We'll make furniture in windows and we'll have fun cleaning it up. The only thing that matters is that you get well. What would I do if I weren't for you, Fanny? You've saved my life already. Well, I'll boast to say that I don't think many wives are better loved than I. But then, few wives have a genius for a husband. Are you all right, a Buddhist, Fanny? What do you call us? Um, Squatters. Good. I'll write about the Silverado Squatters. Beginning of our living a life of gypsies. For as soon as Louis completely recovered, we set sail for Scotland by invitation of his parents who had forgiven him when they learned how near he was to death. It was then in his home in Edinburgh that the idea for a story came. A story that was to bring Louis fame and fortune. The morning was rainy and I, hard up for amusement, was drawing a large map of an island. Well done. And how are we here? A map. But it's not very good. Certainly it is. Here, let me have a jog. Now, this is spyglass hill. And this is rum coal. And here we'll put three red crosses. And above them up we write, Treasure Island. Gee, now it really looks like a map. Pirates. Very treasure. A man maroon. Where you going with my map? Beginning of Treasure Island, which later Louis said he wrote for me. And it was the beginning of a new life where it made travel possible again. As gypsies we wanted to England, France and finally back to San Francisco. Louis writing as we roved and from these travels came many more stories. Kidnapped, black arrow, Prince Otto. My friend was a famous man. But in spite of his refusal to be an invalid, his illness forced him to bed again. And one night mother and I were awakened by loud cries from his room. Louis, Louis, what is it? I was dreaming a fine bogey tale. I think we were given orders that he was not to be interrupted even if the house caught fire. For three days he wrote without stopping, sitting up in bed covering page after page. And at the end of those three days he called us to his room and read his first draft of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. And what do you think of it? I think it's wonderful. Good. Are you funny? I, uh, it could have been a masterpiece. Could have been? Yes, dear. You, uh, you missed the point. What point? Well, you made it a mere story. You took a good man whom you've called Dr. Jekyll. You gave him a secret drug and he becomes a bad man called Edward Hyde, a murderer. I know all this. Well, don't you see it, Louis? This Dr. Jekyll should never become another man. Mr. Hyde is simply Dr. Jekyll's split personality, his other self. Why, we're all Dr. Jekyll's and Mr. Hyde's. Two persons, one bad and one good. But most of us overpower the bad with the good. Else we'd spend most of our lives in prison. I'll write to entertain, not to preach. Perhaps so, but you could really make this a great story. You're wrong. It's already a great story. My mistake wasn't reading it to you. Now, I'd like to be alone, please. It was the first time I'd ever seen him angry. We went into the parlor and I turned to my mother, but neither of us spoke. She sat pale and desolate, staring into the fire. The room was dead silent. Then, after what seemed like ours, we heard him descending the stairs. He was carrying the manuscript. He crossed the room and threw it into the fire. Louie, what are you doing? You will write, Fanny, after I re-read the story, I discovered I had missed the point. Fanny, can you forgive my temper? I'm afraid the Mr. Hyde came out in me. Certainly, dear. Mind the other. Because of your wonderful help, this story will be a masterpiece. The case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde was his most famous story, but with it came more serious illness and nearly cost Louie his life. Once again, he was ordered south. I remember him saying, Keep me well until I'm 40 and I'll live to 90. We sailed to Hawaii, the Gilberts, Australia and back. Then, because Louie and mother felt they had found the place where they could be truly happy, we hired natives and built a rambling house at the foot of Mount Bahia and we made Samoa our home. Ah, Fanny, it is the Garden of Eden, paradise. Ah, yes. Oh, look at the flaming hibiscus dancing through the jungle and the coconut palms bowing their heads as if in prayer. The beauty reminds me of you. You'll remember long ago the tiger lily. Delicate, lovely, a passion of color. How could I ever forget? This is a land for artists, free souls. For we can live like kings in a house that climbs a hill, a beautiful, proud hill. Fanny, we a climate we may. I has something I want to show you. So lonely up here. From this summit, you can look out to the sea. Almost as if you could look across it. Do you miss home, Louie? Aye, sometimes I feel that I must go back even if it means my death. Being in exile has had its merit, dear, not Miss San Francisco. No, not really. San Francisco wouldn't be home unless you were there. You've never been sorry, then, being married to me? Sorry. Oh, Louie, my life has been beautiful. We've had the world together. What more could we ask? I guess we've had wonderful experiences, you and I. And left many friends on every continent. You know, it makes a man feel important as if he had accomplished something in life. Before he dies. This wind, it gives me a cold chill. Let's go back to the house. No, no, no, wait. I have something to tell you, Fanny. You see, you and I have always lived in the fear of my death. But when it comes, I want you to bring me back here to this summit. And when your time comes, my darling, I want you to come back here and sleep beside me. For together we can eternally look out to the sea, toward home. Some day soon, he said, I want you to make a path up the mountain. And when I die, you're to bury me there upon the summit. And this verse is to be inscribed there in bronze. Under the wide and starry sky, dig the grave and let me die. Glad did I live and gladly die, and I laid me down with a will. This is a virtue grave for me. Here he lies, where he longed to be. Home is a sailor. Home from the sea. Under Hunter. Home from the hill. I guess there isn't one of us, but has to admit that at times we get to worrying. We worry about a lot of things. Business affairs, our jobs, our future, the future of our country, and the future of the world. And when we pick up the papers and see accounts of the horror of war, when we see that one marriage in three goes on the rocks, when we see reports about juvenile delinquency, we even begin to worry about our own family. Yes, there are many things today that tend to separate a family. That's why we need all the help we can have to bring our families together. There's nothing that will bring a family closer in unity and understanding than the simple, the common, bond of trust and faith in God. The simple expression of that faith, the daily practice of family prayer, is the greatest inspiration and example we can give our children. Family prayer can and will bring God's blessing on our home. The blessing of harmony and understanding. Because a family that prays together, stays together, and a world at prayer will bring a world at peace. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. The Wood Family Theater has brought you Gene Cagney and Glenn Langen in The Triumphant Exile, with Patricia Neal as your hostess. Others in our cast were Carlton Young, Joel Nestler, and Paul Duboff. The Triumphant Exile was written by Dale Newton Whitney with music composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman, as directed for Family Theater by F.J. Mansfield. This series of Family Theater broadcasts is made possible by the thousands of you who felt the need for this type of program, by the mutual network which has responded to this need, and by the hundreds of stars of stage, screen, and radio who have so unselfishly given of their time and talent to appear on our Family Theater stage. To them and to you, our humble thanks. This is Gene Baker expressing the wish of Family Theater that the blessing of God may be upon you and your home. And inviting you to join us next week at this time when Family Theater will present Aubrey Totter, Gene Cagney, and Ronald Reagan in the Kiss of Salome J. Join us, won't you? Family Theater is broadcast throughout the world and originates in the Hollywood studios of the world's largest network, the Mutual Broadcasting System.