 Family Theatre presents J. Carol Nash and Raymond Burr. The cooperation with Family Theatre brings you Henry Wattsworth Longfellow's story of King Robert of Sicily with Raymond Burr as King Robert. To introduce the drama, your host, J. Carol Nash. Thank you, Tony LaFranco. 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. Henry Wattsworth Longfellow's name is most familiar today as the author of such great American poems as Evangeline, Song of Heawatha, The Wreck of the Hesperus, and The Village Blacksmith. But it was in the tales of a wayside inn that the poet drew upon his vast travel experiences to retell stories in verse that had been popular for centuries in prose and narration. In reading these tales, we find that Longfellow stressed the simple things of life for his drama. And such is the story we have adapted from a short poem in his Tales of a Wayside Inn. We invite you to listen now to Raymond Byer in the title role of King Robert of Sicily, with Lamont Johnson as narrator. Robert of Sicily sat at Vespers one evening, the voices of the choir scarcely touching his consciousness. Attired in the gold fineries appropriate to his position as the ruler of all Sicily, King Robert could not keep his mind from the many affairs of state. Throughout the long day, petition after petition had been laid before him, some large, some small, but each distracting. And so Robert, the great and powerful King of Sicily, sat in the beautiful church surrounded by his retinue of attendance and heard only a vague Latin word here and there. But suddenly one such word stood out from all the others and brought him upright with curiosity. He turned to Rinaldo, his chamberlain. Think you not that the monks sing poorly tonight, Rinaldo? I had not noticed it, sir. Possibly you let your mind wander. I thought you might have caught the phrase they mumbled concerning a potentate. But apparently you do not listen as you should. Your pardon, Sire. I must admit that I was listening well to the Latin phrases. You must be referring to the part wherein they sang, De po suit potentes, de se de, ex altavit humiles. Your memory is good, Rinaldo. Those were the proximate words. Are you able to tell me their meaning? They are part of the words of our Lady to Elizabeth her cousin in announcing the glad news of the coming birth of her child. Just tell me the meaning of the Latin words, Rinaldo. I know full well the background of the Magnificat. They mean this. He has put down the mighty from their seat and has exalted the humble. And who has this power? Power to put down the mighty? Sire, they mean God who gives all men their temporary strands of power. Then I tell you, Rinaldo, that it would be well for the monks to see that they keep seditious thoughts in the Latin tongue. He shall put down the mighty, shall he? Well, I will have it known that there is no power that can push me from my throne. No power. In the morning I shall write a letter of state for all to read that I am the power above all and that there is no maker of kings capable of pushing me from my throne. As for now, if the monks have nothing better for me to listen to, then I shall let the monotony of their singing bring me its only worthwhile reward. Irresistible sleep. And sleep he did. Robert pushed the thoughts from his mind that would keep him awake. His head dropped over in a deep sleep that was not even disturbed by the departure from the church of his attendants who were fearful of awakening their king. Later the flickering lights failed to reveal the slumped form of the sleeping king and the church was locked from the outside by the sexton. Sometime past midnight Robert sat bolt upright in the huge church. His heart pounded with anger the result of his having dreamed that some mighty power sat higher than he. He found himself alone in the haunting gloom. A spark of fear came then to ignite his anger and Robert became like a man possessed. He wrenched himself out of the pew and fled down the aisle of the church to the huge doors. He beat on them and shouted for someone to open them. The sexton fearfully flung open the doors and Robert with a bellow of rage charged down the steps. The maddened king raced to the palace and thundered down the corridors toward the great reception hall. There the sounds of a great party met his ears and when he crossed the threshold he found much merriment. There was music and dancing and laughter which did not sit well with the mood of Robert of Sicily. I wish to see all the members of my court immediately in my private chambers. Everyone else must leave the palace at once. And by what authority do you give such order? What? Who dares question my... Robert turned towards the voice that had questioned his authority and was stunned at what he saw. A man was sitting on the throne overlooking the festivities. The image of Robert himself. The raging king could not believe what he saw. A man who was his absolute twin. You! Why are you on my throne? Why do you wear my robes? May I ask who addresses me in such manner? I am the king. I am Robert, king of Sicily. Brother of the emperor. How dare you usurp my throne? Are you truly the king? The king? Of course I'm the king. There's no power greater than I. Everyone gathered here knows me well. I demand to know why all of you pay homage to an imposter. Speak! Is there not someone here who is man enough to explain this insolence to me? Then, as king, I command you to slay this trespasser. I say down with this tattered intruder. We have all heard him speak words of treason. Let us run him through before he molests king Robert. Hold your swords! Hold! Hold! Put up your swords, gentle nobles. This is a man to be pitied, not to be slain. Let us hear the poor creature out. Now, tell me, who are you? And why have you come here? No one has claimed to know you, yet you rave of being king. I am the king. I have come to claim my throne from you, an imposter. I, an imposter? Robert, king of Sicily? I am Robert. Do you not all recognize me? You who know me so well. I do not know you at all. It is easy to see that this is a poor jester who, passing by, thought to bring attention to his talents with this ridiculous claim. Then let him revel in victory. For from this time forward, he shall be the king's jester. And shall wear the fool's cap with bells and the scalloped cape. It is a fool's fool that would waste a second to answer the summons of his king. And I am but a king's fool. What is your wish, king, Robert? Scorpi, my own jester. Scorpi, the sins of your past have overtaken you this night in the form of a brother fool. He will be your boon companion in fool array. Take this man who claims to be king and see that he is fitted with cap and bell so that all men know of his right to foolishness. Thus Robert, king of Sicily, was given into the care of the man who had been his own jester. And under duress was taken to Scorpi's quarters, a small room behind the stables. When Robert awoke the next morning, he was certain that this was surely a dream that he would find himself in his own beautifully appointed room with attendants awaiting his first wish or command for the day. Instead, his eyes met the dingy gloom of a stable-like room with straw on the floor and a small basin of water in one corner. On the wall hung the tattered remnants of his royal robes. Robert bounded to his feet. Where am I? What is it that I hear as I move? And it was truly no dream. Why, I am wearing the fool's cap just as he said I would. Well, I'll soon show them. Who is that? Oh, Scorpi. Yes, it is I, Scorpi. And I cannot help but applaud a clown who rehearses his day's chief foolery even before he washes his grabby face. More, let me see more. Indeed you shall see more. Just follow me to the chambers of the man who has claimed my throne. I prefer to wait here. You will be back. Robert hurried to the palace, a fury within him driving him on. But as he neared the steps, he became aware of the shouts of pages and guards. Ah, here comes Robert Little Key. Make way for Robert Little Key. Good morning, Your Majesty. Where are your robes this morning? Robert made his way down the long halls of the palace to the accompaniment of taunts and the echoes of taunts. As he neared the chambers of the king, a large voice boomed out at him that was the provost marshal of the king's household, not a kind man at best. And this morning he was in no mood for toying with a man who proclaimed himself king. Hold there, clown. What are you doing in the halls before the king's chambers with neither summons nor proper dread? Out of my way! I will see the man who would have my throne. It is a pair of scissors you will see first. Come, I will escort you, Your Majesty. Back to the stables and the taunts of Scorpi and the servants, where they cut Robert's hair in order to make him look as ridiculous as possible. Yeah, he is finished. And look, look at what we have now. Cowardly rabble you are to tie me here and touch my head. Oh, Your Majesty, Robert Little King, we are sorry. If there is anything we could do to make you happy again, I know, let us present him with a nice crown. Provost, you will find one there on the floor. Here, catch it. Yes, nice bells to warn his subjects that the king approaches. And now Provost hand me the scepter which symbolizes all his power. You must mean this one. Yes, that is it. And now, Robert Little King, I crown you king of foolery. The proud and mighty Robert had passed from king of all Sicily to Robert Little King, with his realm the world of mirth for those around him, searing sadness for Robert himself. All those who heard him proclaim his right to the throne merely laughed and taunted him and said what a fine clown he was to choose such a daring theme for his foolery. Robert tried hard to shut his ears to what he saw and heard directed at him, but the most terrible moments of all were when the king would stop him in passing and say to him, Are you king? Yes, I am. I am the king. Thus Robert would be constantly reminded of his inferior position and rebellion boiled in his heart as it began to be clear to him that no matter what he did or said there was no one in the whole world who would take up his cause. Soon he decided that the best he could possibly do was to accept his fate as best he could. One day he and Scorpi, tired of composing rhymes and silly jokes to use in their by-play, merely sat and talked. Ah, Robert Little King, it is a foolish world that asks of a man that he devote his whole lifetime to the entertainment of others. Scorpi, I thought the two reveled in this type of life. That is because many years ago I had to face the fact that there was no more life for me as the son of my parents. Where are your parents? My mother died shortly after I was forced to join Robert's palace staff. Did she know why you had left home? She did. Many years ago she sewed me a clown suit for a performance in my first May festival. Although I had managed to acquire much education, I was always inclined to foolish doings, and when Robert the king came to the festival he demanded that I come to the palace as his court fool. The mere thought of such degradation gradually killed my mother. Where is your father now? He died of the typhus germ five years ago. He spent his last years tending the horses in Robert's stable. Alonzo. His name was Alonzo, and Robert treated him like the dirt he walked on. But there was nothing I could do. I can remember one fine summer morning when King Robert called for his great horse, Debob, as he'd planned a day's hunting. My father was frantic to find that Debob had a strained tendon that morning, and when Robert found out about it he was furious, even though he had many other horses equally as good. He sent for my father and had him flogged and put in the dungeon for three days without food. And well he should. The man was responsible for the horse, was he not? He would indeed make a fine king, Robert, little king. You sound like King Robert himself. There is no excuse for a man to shirk the duties he has been given. And you would condemn a man as a shirker if a horse goes lame? Tell me, how would you go about instructing a horse not to go lame? You make me sick, Robert, little king. From this time forward I will speak to you only when my duties demand it. Robert found himself entirely alone from then on. Scorpi did not even pay him the compliment of taunting him as Robert Little King. He withdrew into himself and watched and waited for the day when he could revenge himself upon them. And then one day the king summoned his two jesters. I will have no matterment from either of you. I have a serious matter to discuss. Are you both aware of the fact that there is much stealing going on within the palace? I am aware that stealing has been a part of every palace since the very first king. And you, Robert Little King, have you anything to say? I have always known of the stealing very well then. That is the problem, and to the one of you who presents the best plan for stopping all stealing, I will give land and the freedom to work that land. Do you mean, Sire, that one of us will go free from this bondage? I know well what I would do if I were king. You see, Rinaldo. I told you that our clowns would both have answers to our problem. Robert Little King, you shall first tell us your solution. And we will put it to three weeks trial. If at the end of that time you have not been successful, we shall give Scorpi the opportunity to solve it for us. My plan is the only one that will succeed. If I were king, I should call in all the servants of the palace and give each one twenty lashes across the back. Then having done so, I would select two at random, put them in the dungeon until the guilty parties presented themselves, which they would soon be forced to do by the other servants. You would see that there would be an end to the stealing immediately. Those are drastic measures, Robert Little King. As king, you would make an enemy of everyone in the palace. There is no other answer. Discipline is the only way. Rinaldo, you will call the provost Marshall, order him to put the lash to the backs of all the servants, and two must go to the dungeons. Three weeks passed, and Robert and Scorpi were again summoned before the king. Robert Little King, I have the results of the trial of your plan, and they are not what you said they would be. But I do not understand. Drastic plans demand drastic measures. During the past three weeks, stealing in the palace has increased tenfold. Those guilty of it have only become more and more sly. And so, in accordance with my agreement, I now ask you, Scorpi, how would you answer the situation? Begging your forgiveness for my presumption. I say this, Shire. If I were a king of men, I would act as if I were one who had been given the world's properties, as a steward has given certain of the king's material goods, to do the best with them that it is possible to do. I say that the root of the stealing in this palace is the conditions under which we live. To discourage stealing, I would provide a fair share of food for those who labor for me and provide services. I would see that all men within my realm were treated with the respect due to an individual, and that they were provided decent homes in which to live. And I assure you, Shire, that if these steps were taken, then there would be no reason for anyone to steal. It's for sitting me free. If you can find it within you to do what I have said, then serving you in any capacity will be a pleasure. And the many years of my humiliation will have been well spent for this moment. I assure you, Scorpi, that what you have said will be abided by. I will see to it. Robert was furious, but the plan was successful. The will to work replaced discontent and laziness for the first time. Scorpi, with the true humility of a good person, tried many times to speak to Robert, but Robert repulsed all overtures. After much insistence in the part of the king, Scorpi had accepted the land promised as his reward and was preparing to leave the palace one evening. On his way to Vespers, he paused at the stables to bid Robert goodbye. Robert was in the stable yard, observing the weak attempts of a young knight Robert little king! I would like to say goodbye to you before I leave. I have nothing to say to you, Scorpi. Look out! He's broken away! Look out! Clown, look out! He's not Robert, though! Get up, Robert! He's trying to trample you! Get up! I will distract him! Now you are free, Robert! Get up and run! I'm quieting him! Why, Scorpi? Why did you try to save me? You could see he was in a fury to kill. Robert, you'll forgive me for the times I've taunted you. I'm sorry for everything I've done. No, I'm glad I could help you. I wanted to let you know I was... Scorpi. Oh, my friend. My friend! Robert flung himself sobbing across the broken body of Scorpi and when he arose it was as a humble man stunned beyond imagination to think that this little jester would give his life for him whom he had all the reason in the world to resent not only for the things he did to him as king but also for his rudeness to him just before his death. Robert began to walk slowly, hardly knowing where he went with great choking sobs welling up in his breast. The sobs were not so much in grief for his dead rescuer as for the racking sorrow he felt for the kind of man he himself had been. Suddenly his mind became aware of the chanting of the monks at Vespers. He... he has put down the mighty from their seat and has exalted the humble. Robert, come here, Robert. Sire... Sire, Scorpi is too. I know. I know Robert. Scorpi has given his life to save yours, has he not? Yes. Yes, but how did you know? I have known Robert. He loved you and there is no greater love than that a man will give up his life for his brother. Please, Sire... please, may I go now? Answer one question first, then I will leave you. Robert, you have said many times that you are king. Tell me, Robert, are you king? Sire, as I kneel at your feet I ask you to forgive me for my presumption. No. No, I am not king. I have learned in many ways that there is more to kingliness than the mere possession of a throne. I know now that each man can be a king if he so desires. No. No, I am not king. Robert, get to your feet. Robert, now you are again the king. But I am not. Where have you gone? What has happened to you? Wearing my robes once again. He has clothed me once again in the kingly robes. He was an angel sent from God to show me how to be king. They posed it for kingliness. They said it. It exalted it to me. He has put down the mighty from their seat and has exalted the humble. This is J. Carol Nash again. Of course, it's impossible to read today's flaming headlines without grave thought and grave consternation. Who can think any longer that these things are at a distance? Neither should we think of God as at a distance. As the poet says in telling us of the nearness of God, pluck but a flower and you start an angel's wing. So it is that every whispered prayer is whispered into the ear of God, bending low to hear us, eager to help us, knowing our needs better than we know them ourselves. As we pray with our families, let us remember that many homes, many families, yes, many of our neighbors have absent members on some far-flung battlefront. Can we deny them these brave ones, the generous gesture of our prayers today and every day? As we pray with our families and for our families, let us remember too the family of nations so much in need in these hours. Let us remember how much they need God's help. Prayer is the most powerful force in the world. It's more powerful than armies or cosmic energy, cannons, even the atom bomb. Yes, prayer is not bound to earth-like armies or restricted to the stratosphere like planes or held to the seas like ships. But prayer is a divine arrow that goes right to the heart of God. We must use it for ourselves and for others. Keep at heart this hopeful thought. The family that prays together stays together. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. Family Theatre has brought you King Robert of Sicily with Raymond Burr as King Robert and J. Carol Nash as host. Lamont Johnson was the narrator. Others in our cast were Junius Matthews, Ed Begley, Michael Hayes and Jim Nussar. This adaptation of the classical poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was written by Tom Henley with music composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman and was directed for Family Theatre by J. F. Mansfield. This is Tony Lafranco expressing the wish of Family Theatre that the blessing of God may be upon you and your home and inviting you to be with us next week at this time when Family Theatre will present Ruth Hussey and Roddy McDowell in Charles Tazwell's Lollabye of Christmas. Join us, won't you? Originates in the Hollywood studios of the world's largest network, the Mutual Broadcasting System.