 Family Theatre presents Loretta Young, Vincent Price, and Junius Matthews. From Hollywood, the mutual network in cooperation with Family Theatre Incorporated brings you Oscar Wilde's classical fantasy, The Happy Prince, with Vincent Price and Junius Matthews. To introduce the drama, your hostess and narrator, Miss Loretta Young. Thank you, Jean. Oscar Wilde has written many fantasies and he has left a wealth of stories imbued with all the mysticism and sensitivity of the Irish. Tonight, he weaves the magic cloak of fantasy about a story as fresh as tomorrow's headlines. Man's inhumanity to man. Here, then, is Oscar Wilde's enduring story of selfishness and sacrifice. The Happy Prince. Once upon a time, high above a quaint European city, on a tall column stood the statue of the Happy Prince. It was a fine statue, gilded all over with thin leaves of gold. For eyes, he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed in his sword hill. He was much admired by all the townspeople. Ah, yes, he's every bit as beautiful as a weathercock, only not quite so useful, perhaps. This portly gentleman is a town counsellor. He wishes to gain a reputation for artistic taste, but one must be practical, too, and unfortunately, sometimes in politics, one straddles the fence. Charity children come all of the cathedral wearing their bright red cloaks and clean white pinafores, and the stern gentleman with them is the mathematical master. What a beautiful statue. It looks like an angel. How do you know? Have you ever seen an angel? I've seen him in my dreams. Nonsense. I don't believe in dreams. You can't prove the existence of angels scientifically. And there stands a tired young man with a portfolio under his arm and disappointment on his face. All day I've tried to find someone who will look at my place. The world does not welcome new writers, my prince. Oh, you smile. Isn't it good to see someone in the world who is happy? Why can't you be like the happy prince? You were always crying for the moon, hush now, and look at the smiling statue. The happy prince would never dream of crying for anything. And so they passed by and saw only the glitter in the fixed smile. And none of them really knew the troubled heart. Until one night, there flew over the city a little swallow, a swallow born of the spring morning to a bird's song and the sweetness of a waking world. And he carried spring in it. Now, where shall I put up for the night? I'm very tired and I need a good night's rest. I see just the spot. That statue looks as if it would provide shelter for a weary traveler. And so high up I shall be safe there and I shall have fresh air and a fine view. And my goodness, will you look? I have a golden bedroom. How lovely. I'm sure I shall be very happy with such rich quarters. And so the little swallow settled down for the night at the feet of the happy prince. Very pleased with his luck at finding such a fine place to spend the night. But just as he was putting his head under his wing, a large drop of water fell on him. Now, that's strange. There's not a single cloud in the sky. The stars are quite clear and bright, and yet it's raining. Well, the climate in the north of Europe is really quite dreadful. Now, really, what is the use of a statue if it can't keep the rain off? I suppose I must fly away and look for a good chimney pot. Ha, statue, I bid you goodbye. Well, what's this? The statue seems to be smiling, and the skies are filled with tears which run down golden cheeks. What a curious thing. Such a beautiful face in the moonlight, and yet so sad. It's a piteous thing to see a statue cry. I shall fly up and look into this matter. Hello, who are you? I am called the happy prince. My goodness, you don't look very happy to me. This may be important, but you have quite drenched me with your tears. So I'd like to know why you're weeping. I'm sorry, little swallow. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, but my heart is heavy within me. You see, when I was young and had a human heart, I never knew what tears were for. I lived over there. In the palace at San Susie? Yes. Well, no wonder. The birds say that sorrow is not allowed to enter there. That is true, and there I passed my youth and was known as the happy prince. Were you truly happy? I thought I was because I thought pleasure was happiness. I lived for pleasure for the sound of the hunt and for the sound of music and the taste of wine and the sight of the loveliest ladies in the realm. Like the others in the palace, I closed my eyes to poverty and sorrow because they were not happy things and I was the happy prince. But there was one whose eyes were open. Her name was Angelique. Music is gay. The prince is about to ask you to dance with him and you slip away to hide out here on the balcony. Don't you enjoy the ball, Angelique? I confess that I prefer it out here. I like to look at the city at night from this balcony. It's a beautiful sight. The city is so quiet and lovely in the pale moonlight. Moonlight that masks the evil things, poverty walking the streets, death stalking the poor. This moment is not for such thoughts, Angelique. It is no illusion that you are at my side. It is no illusion that I love you. No, don't look at me in such astonishment. Do not believe me. I believe it's a thing to be said in the moonlight, under the spell of the music, and soon to be forgotten. I shall repeat it by sunlight and moonlight all the days of my life. You are very late, Angelique. The others are in the garden already. I thought you were not coming. I'm sorry to be late, but your highness... Perhaps you have more important things to do. Perhaps you would rather be elsewhere. Please listen, your highness. I was on my way here passing through the streets in my carriage and there was a woman who had fainted. She was begging on the streets, begging to get food for her children. So we took her home. There was much to be done... And you prefer to spend your time in a harbor with this beggar woman than here? Can you not understand? Time is such a fleeting thing and we shall have to account for our days in this world. Then you consider the moments with me wasted. Oh, no. No, it's... it's only that there are people who need me, who need my help. Well, you... you need nothing. Perhaps I am selfish, but I need you. When you're away, Sans Souci is an empty place. I want you with me always. I would like to put a necklace of stars around your throat, or give you the moon to wear as a pendant. I wish the world were mine that I might give it to you. There is something you can give me. Anything in my power to give is yours. Then give me understanding. Don't demand all my heart or all my time, for I must give of myself, not just my money or the time of my servants, but of myself. There are things I know in my heart I must do, and there are things you must do. Angelique, I love you so much that I'm jealous of your precious poor. They come into the palace like specters at your side. But I would not want you other than what you are. So go your way, Angelique. Looking and acting like the angel you were named for, do what you like. But when you enter the palace, you must leave your troubles outside. I want you to smile. She smiled then, and she smiled on the day we were to be wed. But it was a tired, tender smile. And her eyes were already seeing greater glories than I could ever show her. Angelique. My Lord Prince, the days must be growing shorter. Darkness has come into the room so quickly. But the sun is... Yes. Yes, the darkness is coming quickly. For you. Take my hand. There must be some terrible dream. This cannot be happening. I'm grieved that I should be the one to bring sorrow into this place, which has never known sorrow. Do not grieve for me, my Lord. Someday, somewhere, we shall meet again. Angelique. I understand. Open your eyes and your heart to suffering. So much to do. So very much. Angelique. Army, it's very sad to lose a love. I sought to forget with madder music stronger wine, gayer laughter, and gradually the ache lessened. It was the only sadness I ever knew. And it taught me nothing. What a pity. So I lived and so I died. Now that I am dead, this is my punishment. Look about you. My city, my city with all its ugliness and misery and poverty and sorrow, once when I could have done something about it, I closed my eyes. Now I cannot close my eyes, and though my heart is made of lead, yet I cannot help but weep. I can see that it would make you truly sad. I wish there was some way I could help you. I think there is a way, little swallow. What do you mean? Across the city in a crooked little street, there is the small house of a widowed seamstress. She is very poor and her little boy is sick. The mother does everything she can. There is only water, little one. River water. Try and drink some. Take it away. Hush now. I must finish this gown by morning. There will be no money for firewood to warm us this winter. I wish it was winter now. Swallow, swallow, little swallow. Would you not take the ruby out of my sword hilt and carry it to the mother? I'd like to help you, my prince, but I must rest and be on my way south. My friends are flying up and down the Nile and talking to the large lotus flowers, and they're expecting me. It's warm and beautiful there. But this little boy is so ill and his mother is so poor. I'm afraid he will die for lack of proper care. That makes me very sad. Very well. I'll stay with you for this one night and be your messenger. Thank you, little swallow. Thank you very much. The swallow plucked out the great ruby from the prince's sword and flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town. He passed by the cathedral power where the white marble angels resculpted. He flew over the river, over the marketplace where men haggled and bargained. Until at last he came to the house where the boy tossed feverishly. In he hopped and laid the great ruby on the table, and then he swooped around the bed, fanning the boy's forehead with his wings. How cool I feel all at once. I must be better. Yes, my prince, but I feel quite warm now, even though it is a little chilly. That is because your heart is warmed by your good deed. That must be it. And your heart too. I'm so tired and thinking always makes me sleep. Then sleep, little swallow. Good night. Thank you. Now you're really smiling. Good night, prince. Now that you have spent the day in my city, little swallow, what do you think of it? Oh, it's a fine city. I had a bath in the river and I visited all the monuments and sat on the church steeple. The church is very beautiful, but I must say there is very little food to be had. The winter approaches fast. Tonight I must be off for Egypt. So soon. Well, I'm hungry. And I can feel the chill of winter in my bones. I must really hurry. My friends will fly up to the second cataract where the river horse crouches there among the bill rushes and the yellow lions come down to the water's edge to drink. They have eyes like green barrels and their roar is louder than the roar of the cataract. It sounds like a wondrous place, but I do so need your help. There is a young man in a garret who is working at a desk on a play. He might be a great writer one day, but he is too cold to write anymore. There is no fire in the grate and hunger has made him faint. I suppose such a deserving person needs help. I could delay my departure another day. You have a good heart, little Swallow. Thank you, Prince. I will help you, but what shall I take him? Another rupee? Alas, I have no rupee. My eyes are all that I have left. They are made of rare sapphires which were brought out of India a thousand years ago. Pluck out one of them and take it to him. He will sell it to the jeweler and buy food and firewood and finish his play. Oh, dear Prince, I cannot do that. Swallow? Swallow, little Swallow? Do as I command you. And so, with great reluctance, the Swallow plucked out the Prince's eye and flew away to the writer's garret. He flew into the cold bear room through a hole in the roof and saw that the young man's head was buried in his arms in despair. When the author looked up again... What a beautiful jewel. It must be worth a great deal of money. Now I can finish my play. My prayers are answered. But strange. It seems as though I have seen this jewel somewhere before. Dear Prince, I really must leave you now. But I won't forget you. We shall meet again. In the spring, I shall return this way and bring back two beautiful jewels to replace those you've given away. The ruby shall be redder than a rose and the sapphire shall be as blue as the great sea. You are so kind, little Swallow. But there is a greater kindness you can do for me. In the square below, there stands a little match girl. She has no shoes or stockings and her head is bare. See her there? She's very small and troubled. We must do something to help this child. Pluck out my other eye and give it to her. No, no, I cannot do that. If I pluck out your eye, you will be quite blind. Swallow, little Swallow, do as I command you. We must help the little girl. Very well. I shall drop the jewel with the matches where she'll be sure to find it. Oh, what a lovely piece. If I run home with it, perhaps Father will like it and it won't matter that the matches are spoiled. What a pity that you could not see the expression on her face. It does not matter. I heard her laughter. The sound of it was like music. And now it is still early and you must be on your way. No. You are blind now, my poor friend. So I will stay with you always. No, little Swallow, you must not do that. You must go to the warm land of the Pyrenees. You have served me well, but the winter is almost upon us. I would rather stay here with you, my prince. That night he slept at the prince's feet. And the next day he sat on the prince's shoulder and told him stories of what he had seen in strange lands. And the red ibises stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile and catch gold and fish in their beaks. Dear little Swallow, you have told me of marvelous things, but more marvelous than anything is the suffering of men and women. They are never closer to God than when they are in their agonies. There is no mystery as great as misery. Little friend, I am covered with fine gold. You must take it off leaf by leaf and give it to the poor. The living always think that gold can bring happiness. Leaf after leaf of gold, a Swallow picked off until the happy prince looked dull and gray. Leaf after leaf he carried to the poor. And the children drew rosier and merry and played games in the snow and skated on the ice. Yes, the snow came and then the frost. Long icicles like crystal daggers hung from the eaves of the houses. The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave the prince, for he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs from outside the baker's door and tried to keep warm by flapping his wings. But at last he knew that he was going to die. And he just had strength enough to fly to the prince's shoulder once more. The time has come when we must part. Goodbye, my friend. I would like to kiss your hand before... Farewell, little Swallow. You have stayed too long to help me and the people of my city. Now you must be off to the land of sunshine and warmth. I shall miss you, for I have come to love you, but I am glad you're going to Egypt. It is not to Egypt that I am going. I shall never see that land again. It is to the house of death that I go. Death is the brother of sleep, is he not? Not to the house of death, little Swallow. You will go to the warmth and sunshine of the house of the Lord, my little friend, for your heart is pure. And then he kissed the happy prince on the lips and fell dead at his feet. And at that moment a curious thing happened. There was a noise within the statue as if something had broken. The leaden heart of the happy prince had broken into two leaden pieces. Soon after the mayor and the town councillor were passing by. Yes, sir, with a dreadfully hard frost we've had. That we have, councillor. Oh, dear me. How shabby the happy prince look. How shabby indeed, Your Honor. The ruby has fallen out of his soar. His eyes are gone. And he is golden no longer. In fact, he is little better than a beggar. How shameful. And there is actually a dead bird at his feet. We must issue a proclamation that birds are not allowed to die here. We must have the bird taken to the ruby sheep at once. As the statue is no longer beautiful, we will melt it down and build another. Of myself, of course. Oh, no, of me. No, of me. No, of me. Of me. No, no, of me. Councilman, the strangest thing has happened. The workmen can make no sense of it. They melted the statue of the happy prince today, but the two pieces of lead heart would not melt, even in the hottest furnace. That is strange indeed. What will you do with it? I suppose the only thing to do is throw it on the ruby sheep. It is of no use to anyone. Then it came to pass that God commanded His angels to go into the city and to bring to Him the two most precious things there. I hope you had more success in your search than I did. I began my search at the Palace of Sons Who See. But alas, I found only people bent on filling their days on earth with merry-making. I too. I went to the chambers of the town council. It seems the councillors are concerned only with who will be the model for the new statue in the square. For all I know, they are wrangling still. Pride was all I found there. And then I went among the poor, thinking that those who knew poverty would fight it together. But those who had more than their neighbors refused to share with the less fortunate. Is there nothing but greed and selfishness in the city? Yes, there is something else. We were looking in the wrong places. We should have gone to the rubber sheep. The rubber sheep? It is a beautiful story. The icicles knew of it first. Melting, they ran into the gutters with a tail. The river carried it to the seven seas. The gossipy elms whispered of it, and the wind bore it aloft, where it is written among the stars. See? Yes. The happy prince and the little swallow. I think they are the answer to our search. But was it not said that when you do things for the least of his brethren, you do them for him? The two most precious things in the eyes of heaven. Rest on a rubbish heap in the eyes of men. And so the angels brought him the leaden heart that was broken in two and the little bird. And God said, you have rightly chosen. For in my garden of paradise this little bird shall sing forevermore. And in my city of gold a happy prince shall praise me for bringing us the beautiful story of the happy prince. Each week family theater brings you a play and a thought. The thought is always the same. The family that prays together stays together. You know there's a prayer we've said in our family for a long time now? Perhaps you'd like to hear it. Oh please, dear God, give us the strength to accept with serenity the things that cannot be changed. Give us the courage to change the things that can and should be changed. And give us the wisdom to distinguish the one from the other. Remember, the family that prays together stays together. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. From Hollywood family theater it brought you Vincent Price and Junius Matthews and Oscar Wilde's fantasy prince with Loretta Young as your hostess and narrator. Others in our cast were Mary Ship, Clayton Post, William Byer, Stanley Waxman, Larry Dobkin, Charlotte Lawrence and Herbert Butterfield. Our radio adaptation was written by Jerry Day with music composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman who was directed for family theater by Jaime Del Valle. 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 unselfishly given of their time and their talents to appear on our family theater stage. This is Gene Baker inviting you to join us next week at this time and your family theater will bring you Dan O'Hurley he in Sir Walter Scott's great classic, Ivan Ho. Join us, won't you? Family Theater is heard in Canada through the facilities of the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation and is broadcast to our troops overseas by the Armed Forces Radio Service. This is the world's largest network, the Mutual Broadcasting System.