 Remember, a Hallmark card when you carry enough to send the very best. Bring you Mr. James Hilton. In Herta Pauli is the story of Silent Night on the Hallmark Playhouse. Hallmark brings you outstanding stories chosen by one of the world's best known authors, the distinguished novelist, Mr. James Hilton. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. This is James Hilton. Tonight on our Hallmark Playhouse, we tell you again the story of how that wonderful Christmas song, Silent Night, came to be written 131 years ago. This story was told to a writer named Herta Pauli by the grandson of the man who wrote the music of Silent Night. And now a word about Hallmark cards from Frank Goss before we begin the story of Silent Night. At Christmas, as on every memorable occasion, you'll take special pride in sending Hallmark cards. Because just as for hundreds of years, the word Hallmark has been the distinguishing symbol of quality, so today the Hallmark on the back of your greeting cards is your assurance of finest quality and perfect taste. It's a symbol of quality. All who receive your cards will quickly recognize and realize you carried enough to send the very best. Now Hallmark Playhouse, presenting Herta Pauli's The Story of Silent Night. First of our Lord, 1949. 1,949 years from the miracle of Bethlehem. Christmas, the birthdate of the Prince of Peace, the birthdate of hope and faith, the birthdate of a miracle. Offered gifts from the east. Since Bethlehem, many gifts, recorded and unrecorded, have been created of man's love of God and humbly offered in his honor. What you are to hear tonight will tell you of one such gift offered by two humble men 131 years ago this Christmas week. This, too, is the story of a miracle that was born one Silent Night. We are going back now through the arches of the years, back 131 Christmas leaves, to meet a man named Joseph Moore, father Joseph Moore. Those voices you can just barely distinguish are all voices that have said Merry Christmas through the years. Their sentiment remains and lingers on the Christmas air like a blessing. Alps in a small village. The year is 1818. In the center of the town near a swift-flowing stream stands a whitewashed church with a tall red top steeple. There are the church bells. They have a special joyousness tonight as all church bells seem to have on Christmas Eve. From now we'll meet Father Moore. He's in his study and his heart's a little heavy because the church organ is broken down and there'll be no music for the Christmas service. Good evening, Father Moore. Oh, good evening. Come in, come in. You don't know me, Father, but I'm in your parish. I've just come from one of the charcoal makers' families. A child has been born to them tonight and they beg that you come and bless the baby that it may live and prosper. Well, have I time now to go and return to my son? Yes, Father. Well, then I'll go at once. And so it was that on Christmas Eve of the year 1818, Father Joseph Moore followed a woman up the rocky foothills of the Alps to a simple hut and blessed a baby on Christmas Eve. It seems like a miracle that her child should be born this night. Birth itself is a miracle. God has blessed her with a beautiful son on the most holy night of the year and God has blessed me by guiding me here. Father Moore walked down the snowy mountain, transfixed, transfigured. He thought of the baby under the sacred night and words began to stir and form themselves within him. Round young virgin mother and child, young virgin mother and child, so tender and mild. How simple is the coming of a miracle to a stable in Bethlehem to the heart of a man. He sat all night in his study, writing down the words that fill his heart, and when dawn came he took the poem he had written to Franz Gruber. Father, this is a fine poem. I rather heard it as a song, Franz. I thought you might set it to music. Thank you, Father. I should like to try. And so the words that Father Moore heard on Christmas Eve became music to Franz Gruber on Christmas Day. And before nightfall he came to Father Moore's house. I've written the music, Father. I wrote it for guitar and voice rather than the organ. After all we have no way of knowing when the organ can be used. Oh, sing it. Let me hear it. Well, a few days after Christmas came the organ builder, Karl Mauracher. Well, now, Father Moore and Mr. Gruber, I think I have the organ in working order now. The mice had eaten holes in the bellows, but this leather patch should solve all your problems. May I try it? Go ahead. I never heard a song like it. I know people would like to learn it down in the Zillertown. We'll be happy to teach it to you. What will Franz? We'll be honored. This night started its journey out into the wide world. Karl Mauracher took the song down into the Zillertown. And Silent Night was on its way from a small church high in the Alps to the Dessa children, Caroline, Joseph, Andreas, and Amelie. And the organ builder worked painstaking. On Christmas Eve they stood in the doorway and sang it as a Christmas gift for their parents. Beautifully. I've been proud of you. The organ builder taught it to us. Oh, thank you, Mr. Mauracher. I rather hoped in the spring when Mr. Stasser takes the gloves to sell at the Fahrenheit SIG. Perhaps he would find a way for you to sing the song there. Sing? At the fair? We aren't good enough to do that. We could never do it. Why did you want him to sing this song there, Mr. Mauracher? Well, to me, this song is almost like a song from heaven. The words came to Father Moore on Christmas Eve. The melody to the schoolmaster gruber on Christmas Day. They gave it to the parish, and then it was given to me to carry down in the valley of the Zillertown. I, in turn, give it to you to take to Leipzig. Someone in Leipzig will take it on the next step of its journey. Where is it going? Who knows, little Amelie. Perhaps everywhere. But who in Leipzig? I don't know that either. But someone will make him or herself known to you. And the song from heaven will go on across the earth. Will you take it to Leipzig and send it on its way? Oh, yes, of course we will. This is my glove stand. We are here at the fair to sell chamois gloves. Your children have beautiful voices, Mr. Stasser. Yes. They sing every afternoon, and the people stop to listen to them just as you saw today. And do they also buy the gloves? Well, yes. I think it helps business. In any case, it does not harm it. It was their song that caught my attention. The song, sir? Yes, I've never heard it before. My name is Paulence. I'm the Director General of Music in the Kingdom of Saxony. The Director General of Music? Yes, I wanted to ask you children if you would care to appear at a concert one of these days. A concert? Oh, that would be terrible. I'm afraid that they are not experienced enough, Mr. Polinch. But, Papa, we must do it. We promised Mr. Morrowocker. We've got to do it. It doesn't matter if we are good as long as we sing it. We'll be happy to sing it at concert, Mr. Polinch. Well, we may not be happy, but we'll do it. Good. Next Tuesday, then, at the Gavande House, there will be an orchestra concert. Perhaps at the close of the concert, you will honor us with this song. The King and the Queen will be there. King and Queen. Well, children, don't look at the floor. Look at us. We want to see your face. I think they have a slight case of fright, Your Majesty. Oh, we don't want to be afraid of us. We have children just about your age. Mr. Polinch has told us that you sing a wonderful song. That you call a song from heaven. We are looking forward to hearing it. If we just didn't have to sing it before all those people... Some of them are the same people you sang it for at the fair. Your Majesty, it's almost time for the concert to start with your permission. Just close your eyes, children, and pretend you're singing at home. Song! With them was the director of the Berlin Cathedral Choir. It was he who heard the song in Leipzig and took it on the next step of its journey to Berlin and the Court of the Emperor. In a moment, James Hilton will return to continue the story of Silent Night. As friends of Hallmark Playhouse, you have an interest in a very unusual art competition. This year, the makers of Hallmark Cards sponsored the International Hallmark Art Award, offering $28,000 in prizes for the best portraits of Christmas by French and American artists. Last June, the prize-winning French paintings were exhibited in Paris, and the exhibition was sponsored by the President of France. Awards were presented by the American Ambassador, and the International Hallmark Art Award was acclaimed as one of the most important art events of modern time. Recently, American prize winners were chosen by a distinguished jury, and awards were presented by the Assistant Secretary of State for United Nations Affairs. The exhibition of prize-winning Christmas paintings from two nations will tour principal cities of the United States, and the formal opening in New York at the Wildenstein Galleries this month was a brilliant event. You have a cordial invitation to it if you are in New York. As friends of Hallmark Playhouse, I know you will take pride in the far-reaching influence of the International Hallmark Art Award. The beloved French actor Charles Boyer said, if it is true that art and the holy symbol of Christmas can help people to mutual understanding and love, then the Hallmark Art Award serves the sacred cause of peace. I believe you will feel too that the International Hallmark Art Award was created with an appropriate purpose to bring the best work of the best artists to the greatest number of people. For Hallmark cards, the most popular greeting cards in America are truly the art gallery of all the people. Now back to James Hilton and the story of Silent Night. Those voices are the meds of the Berlin Cathedral choir singing for the Emperor on Christmas Day. There's the Emperor and the royal pew singing with them. No, he stopped singing. Look at his face. He's glaring at that hymn book. There'll be trouble for someone when he gets back to the palace. And you don't know who wrote that song. Are you my concertmaster or are you not my concertmaster? Well, I am your concertmaster at the moment, sir. Look at this hymn book. Just look at this page. What does it say? Silent Night. And what else does it say? Author and composer. They're unknown. I want to know who wrote that hymn. Concertmaster, you spoil my whole Christmas. The trees, the gifts, even the dinner. If a thing is unknown, I wish it may be known. I want order in my hymn book, and I want it as soon as possible. You will start out today in search of the name of the composer of Silent Night. Yes, Silent Night. He started out to trace the origin of Silent Night. He went to big cities. He went to small villages. He talked to the young, to the old. Long, worrisome months kept pace beside him. And at last, even though it meant facing the angle of the emperor, he knew he had to give up. He sat alone and disconsolate in a small village in near the Austrian border. Will there be anything else, sir? No. No, that will be all. You don't like the bird song, sir? The bird? Well, I thought it was my own mind. That is the song I've been hunting for. Who taught it to him? Oh, I don't know, sir. A traveler told him to ask. A man said he had bought the bird in Salzburg in St. Peter's Abbey. Salzburg? Well, then, I shall go to Salzburg. To Salzburg, to St. Peter's Abbey, which had been built a thousand years after the birth of Christ. The Berlin concertmaster walked through a dark-pillared archway into a vaulted room, and stood where Father Joseph Moore had stood so many times in the years gone by. Silent Night? No, I have no recollection of it. How did you happen to come to us, sir? I heard a bulking sing the tune, Father. The innkeeper told me the bird came from this abbey. No. We do not allow any of our students to train songbirds here. We consider it a cruel practice to deprive God's creatures of their freedom. I see. Well, perhaps it was a mistake. Come, it is late. Have some supper with us and then spend the night. French diner, the fire inspector here at the abbey. And this is young Felix Gruber. I was told about your inquiries concerning the bullfinch. This young rascal trained him. You trained him. It didn't hurt the bird. Where did you learn that song you taught him? The song? You heard the gentleman, the song. My father wrote it. Your father? Yes, sir. Where is your father? In the village of Haline. Haline? Mr. French diner, do you think that you could arrange for this boy to have a day or two off so that I could go with him to Haline? Well, you'll have to talk to the abbot. But I'm sure it can be arranged. And now young Felix Gruber and the concertmaster are tucked in a fine slave behind a team of the abbey's finest horses. The bells sing out gaily across the clean chris fair and the snow crunches under the horses hooves. Now they are going through the pass above Haline and now they are skimming down the main street to the market square before the church. And now they are pulling up before the small friendly house switches the home of France Gruber. Oh, it was at last. Concertmaster Ludwig Erk sat with the composer of Silent Night. Mr. Gruber, I bring you and Father Moore the compliments of the emperor and the whole country. Well, well, Father Moore is dead god rest his soul these six years past. Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Yes, he was a fine man. Do you have all six stanzas to the song? Why no, we have only four. Felix, hand me the guitar, please. Your father. The facts are taken down and above the music will be the names Gruber and Moore. The concertmaster walks out to the snow after dinner. And as he walks, he looks up at the snow covered alps that Father Moore loved. And France Gruber watches him from the window and wishes regretfully that Father Joseph Moore had been here to see his song brought back in triumph to the village of Haline. The journey back 131 Christmas Eve to meet a man named Father Joseph Moore and the school teacher, France Gruber and Karl Maracca the organ builder and the stressors and all the rest who had a part in carrying the song from a village high in the Alps down into the world. Yes, now it has bridged 131 Christmas Eve. Now it has been sung by the old and the young, the rich and the poor. It has been sung in every language, in every country of the world. It has become a prayer, a prayer that men can live together in one world as brothers and that there be indeed peace on earth, goodwill towards men. You have heard the story of a miracle, a miracle that was born one silent night. Before I tell you about next week's story, here is Frank Goss. At this Christmas season, our friendly thoughts go out to you who have been with us so often during the past year. Tonight I bring you Christmas greetings from the makers of Hallmark cards, from the fine stores where Hallmark cards are sold and from all of us on Hallmark Playhouse. May your Christmas be merry with laughter and cheer bright as a Christmas star. The friendliest greetings from all of us here to you, wherever you are. Here again is James Hilton. The story of silent night and the music you just heard has all the beauty and joy and happiness of Christmas. There's nothing anyone can add to it. But I would like to introduce the man who's responsible for the splendid music you've just heard here. I know you'd like to meet him because so many of you have written us to praise his music. Here's Lynn Murray, the musical director of the Hallmark Playhouse, whose work contributes so much to the success of our performances every week. Lynn, I personally want to thank you, not only on my own behalf, but for the entire nationwide Hallmark organization for helping to make our Hallmark Playhouse so musically outstanding. Thank you very much, Jimmy. You know, I enjoy working with you and all the rest of the people here. It's very satisfying to be with people who are always working toward perfection. But of course, that's quite natural when you realize that we are representing Hallmark cards. You know, Jimmy, writing music for a dramatic presentation has a parallel in the making of greeting cards. In our work, we try to compose the exact music to fit the story that is being told, to underline every mood, character, and change of scene. And Hallmark greeting cards always seem to express the fitting sentiment for every occasion. And if I can quote Frank Goss, Hallmark cards always say what you want to say the way you want to say it. That's right, Lynn. Now, Mr. Hilton, will you tell us something about your selection for next week's show? Next week we shall tell a story most fitting to the holiday season and the coming of the new year, the story of Father Flanagan of Boystown. And to play the part of Father Flanagan, we are fortunate to have Dana Andrews. Now, for all of us here in the playhouse, for our director producer, Bill Gay, for Gene Holloway, who dramatized tonight's story, for everyone who is proudly a member of the Hallmark family, we wish you, our friends, a very, very, very Christmas. Until next Thursday, this is James Hilton saying good night. Expert and friendly service. Remember Hallmark cards when you carry enough to send the very best. This is Frank Goss saying good night to you all until next week at the same time when James Hilton returns to present Dana Andrews in Fulton and Will Oursler's Father Flanagan of Boystown. And the week following, Betty McDonald's The Egg and I starring Claudette Colbert. And the week after that, A.B. Guthrie is the way west on the Hallmark Playhouse. This is CBS The Columbia Broadcasting System. This is KNBC Kansas City, Missouri.