 Family Theatre presents Bing Crosby and Ricardo Montalban. From Hollywood, the Mutual Network in Cooperation with Family Theatre presents The Seventh Son, starring Ricardo Montalban. And now here is your host, Bing Crosby. Thank you, Tony Lafrono. 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're to win peace for ourselves and peace for our families and peace for the world. Family Theatre urges you to pray. Pray together as a family. And now to our transcribed drama, The Seventh Son, starring Ricardo Montalban as Inigo. His full name was Inigo Lopez Ioya. And he was born in the Spanish province of Gipuscoa one year before Columbus discovered the New World. There is no hint in the accounts of his early childhood or adolescence that Inigo would fare much differently from the other young noblemen of his day. His eyes were fixed firmly on the richest to be won, the adventure to be sought, and the high station to be attained in the world beyond the quiet courtyard of his father's castle. Oh, my son, you feel at last it is time to think of a career. I do, father. I must confess my satisfaction at this, Inigo. With your future secured, I will have fulfilled the last of my parental obligations. You are still a long way from eternity, father. You are hardly so long that I might not profitably begin preparing for it. But tell me, what are your plans? I would like to serve at the court. The court? Well, you are ambitious. I have thought that through the offices of our kinsmen, the duke of Nachira. Perhaps, perhaps. But service to the queen can take a hundred forms. Let us consider some of them. You have had no schooling in statecraft? I have in mind the military. I want to be a soldier. So your heart is set. Yes, father. Well, the fixing of one's goal is a long stride toward reaching it. I'll write to the duke and... Father, oh, my pardon. Come in, my son. We are discussing your brother's future. Inigo, Martin, if I am intruding... Oh, nonsense, nonsense. When one day you succeed me as head of this house, the advice and guidance of the younger ones will fall to you. I am conscious of that, father. And Inigo, being the youngest, may seek your counsel most often. Advice him then. Let me hear a sample. Inform Martin of your plans, Inigo. I have told father that I wish for a career at court as a soldier. A soldier? Why do you smile? I made no sense. Well, you have given it. Oh, temper, Inigo. Is it my size which makes it difficult you're seeing me in uniform? Don't say that. But you think as much. Little brother, listen. Why, you even call it to my face? Inigo, that will do. You take offense, my son, when none is given. Apologize to your brother. I apologize, Martin. The apology should be mine. Forgive me. Forgive your brother, Inigo. I forgive him. And allow me to remind you of a saying they have at court. The shortness of a man's temper is often a measure of the length of his career. I have no temper. Oh, of course not. Of course not. But the appearances can be deceiving. And what do you find so amusing, Martin? Oh, father's little jest. I heard no jest. I failed to understand. Oh, Inigo, where is your sense of humor? I have an excellent sense of humor. All right. Tell me a joke. Any joke. You will see. Inigo. I assure you, father, I am not angry, not in the least. But you are decidedly giving the impression of anger. You just said yourself that appearances can be deceiving. Oh, Inigo, that's the best yet. What? Oh, my son, you have very neatly turned my words back upon me. I have? You just said yourself that appearances can be deceiving. I don't think the Duke will find this young man lacking in wit. Very good. Very good. You like my joke, father? Oh, very much, my boy. I shall tell it on myself at the earliest possibility. There, you see? You see, Martin? I know a joke when I hear one. And so it was that down Inigo went to the court of Isabella, where, under the tutelage of his kinsman, the Duke of Nahara, he gradually learned a smattering of courtly graces and became adept with the dagger and the sword. It is the year 1521, and Spain is at war with France, as she has been for the last hundred years. Come in. Your grace, Captain Don Inigo. Send him in. His grace will see you now. Thank you. Well, I hope you're satisfied. My Lord Duke. Now, don't waste your cavaliers' wiles on me, Inigo. I know you too well. If, in any way, I have displeased your grace. Oh, stop your simplifying. I expect you think that was quite clever, don't you? Arranging behind my back for a transfer to the garrison at Tumplona. Your grace signed the orders himself. Oh, stacks of documents on my desk every day, and you imagine I read them all? I have made no secret of my desire to return to action. Oh, no, I can't read them all, and you talk advantage of that. Oh, if your father were alive, I would write him such a letter. It is always, Don Martin. Do you know what your dear devil tree has gotten you into this time, your incurable fire? If it will get me to Pumplona. Pumplona! Another name for the gates of hell. Will you understand that this war is lost, and that with the fall of Pumplona... Who is to say that it will fall? Two hundred French cannon pointed down the throats of our garrison. More cannon than throats. And what are the garrison's orders? Fight until overwhelmed. Or surrender and be beheaded most likely. Either way is to die for Spain. Oh, Ninigo, why are you forever pulling the world down about your ears? Is that what I am doing? Into a soldier's life there must needs come a certain amount of brawling, a certain amount of drinking. As a soldier myself, I know this to be true, but you have a thirst for trouble that passes on the standard. I will not see my honor impugned. Honor impugned? A fellow officer makes an innocent reference to some sonnets you have written to a young lady. I found the reference less than incense. So you ran him through the leg with your sword. He was given ample time to defend himself as to the matter of the sonnets. The matter is behind us, Ninigo. I have no wish to pursue it. But as to the nobly born lady in question... What is it you wish to know? I take it you plan to ask for her hand. I have hopes, yes. Might I suggest that you do so before leaving for Pamplona? It would be an excellent marriage. You mean she would be an excellent widow? Ninigo, this is not a time to think only of yourself. You are facing almost certain death. For which a royal settlement paid to my family's estate might well compensate. It would be little enough. I will think on it, my Lord Duke. Be frank with yourself, Ninigo. The Pamplona business is your own doing. I realize that. I will think on it. So, you leave in two days? Yes. And there will be no more sonnets? They were poorly made. You should not miss them. I shall miss them greatly. My lady. Yes, Ninigo. I... Is there something you wish to ask me? You... You have. You must have some inkling of my feeling for you. I'm not sonnets. Quite literally, inklings. You make sport of me. No, Ninigo. Never. Then, if you know what is in my heart... My captain, how could I know this when you are unsure yourself? I? Unsure? Completely. My lady. Oh, Ninigo. A woman can tell when a man is in love with her. It is one of the few weapons we have. You have written verses for me. You have drawn your sword to protect my good name. But then, is that not proof? It is proof that you fancy rhyming and dueling. I fail completely to understand. Then you must try, Ninigo. And try, most of all, to understand yourself. I am a simple soldier. But the turmoil within you is so complex. You have come to ask for my hand. And yet you cannot do it. It... It is not a thing to be done lightly. With you, Ninigo, nothing will ever be done lightly. You cannot go lightly into love or batter... Then that is it. Do you think I will not return from Pamplona? You will return. I have no doubt of that. Whether you will return to me is another question. Do you... Do you believe me incapable of love? On the contrary, Ninigo. I believe you capable of so much that you may have difficulty in finding someone worthy of it. Pamplona, a Spanish fortress in Navarre, May 1521. Carlos, make your men to the west gate. They swung around behind us. You there, look out. Yes, Captain. How have they deployed those batteries that were on the flag? Find it, man. Find it. If it gets close enough to breach this wall we are done for. Captain, the third battery. Where? Just below us in the bra, aiming this way. Just below us? Stay back, sir. It is too late. I beg you, stay back. Oh, my Captain, I beg you. Martin, I came as soon as it was possible. My house is on your grace. How is Ignio? His colour is returning. His French captor seemed to have treated him well. And his wounds? One leg badly fractured, the cannonball struck it squarely. But is it knitting satisfactorily? I had thought so until this morning. But now the doctors inform me there are complications. It seems the fracture was improperly set. Has Ignio been told of this? He has indeed. And worse, he is entertaining the most monstrous idea. Inspired, no doubt, by those meat-cutters who call themselves physicians. What monstrous idea? I would prefer that you hear it from him. If Ignio will tell you everything, he must not know that we have discussed this in the slightest. Ignio? Yes, Martin? You have an illustrious visitor. It is I, Ignio. Your grace. How are you, my boy? As you see, flat on my back. It is a position that ill becomes you. I have told his grace of the manner in which your leg was injured, Ignio. And have you told him what the doctors and I are going to do about it? My brother, please, I implore you. Would you be interested, your grace? Fascinated. Well, it seems that the French are better fighters than bone-setters. Therefore, as things are going, unless something is done quickly, I shall hobble through life with one leg some inches shorter than the other. Well, it seems to me a small price to pay for being snatched from the grave. Perhaps, for most men, my Lord Duke. But since I have never been satisfied with the length of my legs even under the best of circumstances. Ignio, go. You have learned to make light of your sensitivities. That is a good sign, Captain. I am trying. Wouldn't you know? At last he displays his sense of humor and proves to be a morbid one. So, Ignio, what is this measure which the doctors and you shall take to improve matters? First, they will re-break the limb and reset it. This, they assure me, can be done quickly and with a minimum of pain. Tell them the rest of it. There is a bone growth beneath the kneecap, which must be taken away as well. Which must be sawed away. And then I can look forward to some weeks thrust up in a weighted device which will hold my leg at the proper length while it heals. The plan is monstrous. But the leg involved, Martin, is mine. Have you given thought to the physical agony which will be yours as well, Inigo? I am determined to do this. To suffer as you know you must? For so shallower thing as vanity. I suffer that pamplona. Inigo. And it was not for vanity, my Lord Duke. Are you so sure? I am sure that I do what I must. Wherever it leads me and however much pain it may involve. Inigo, I can argue with everything but a man's conscience. Do what you feel is best. I have set the time with the doctors for tomorrow morning. Inigo. It is settled, Martin. They will do their work and I will be an invalid for another few months. There is no more to it than that. As you wish, my brother. Well, I will leave you then, Captain. Is there any message you wish me to bring to the court? You may tell her. I expect to be writing sonnets again before long. I shall indeed. Goodbye, Don Inigo. Goodbye, sir. Oh, and Martin. Yes. Before you go, do we have anything to read in this graveyard? To read? A book, a romance, an adventure, anything. I believe we have a manuscript of the Golden Legends, something about the Saints. Anything at all. Bring it. I have at least three months ahead of me in this tomb. To the young nobleman's surprise, the months of his convalescence passed quickly. For once the initial agony of the operation was over, Inigo lost himself in the few books that his brother could provide. And so it was early the following fall that he limped one morning into Don Martin's study. Much better. I have been around the courtyard three times in the last hour. Three? There is some stiffness, but the pain is gone completely. Here, sit down, my brother. Thank you. Three times, that is remarkable. I had to make sure I could do it. Oh, those poor doctors. I beg your pardon. All their weights and pulleys and one leg is still shorter than the other. And this discovery causes you to feel pity for the doctors? I suppose that does seem strange coming from me. I meant no offence, my brother. You gave no offence. Well, to put it simply, Martin, I have learned something during my convalescence. Something about myself that is not very pleasant. Inigo, your long illness has depressed you, all that suffering. The duke was right about the suffering, you know. It was for nothing but vanity. It and the sonnets and the constant defense of my worthless honor, all for vanity. My brother, this does not sound like you at all. Oh, it is I, Martin. One leg a little different perhaps, but not much else. But to hear you say worthless honor, surely you cannot mean the honor of our house, the house of Loyola? Of course not. I mean the myth of self-importance with which man surrounds himself. The emptiness of most things he does when you consider the reasons for which they are done. You have changed, Inigo. What has put your mind to such things? Well, for one, those books of yours. Books? The life of Christ. The golden legend. The volume about the saints? Yes. Well, I must read that sometime. I'm told it is quite inspiring. Even more. It is disturbing. The saints disturbing? Inigo, I should caution you against such blasphemy. Do you know what I used to think a saint was? A kind of pallid fanatic who sought refuge in a monastery because he could not get on in the world. Inigo, that was most unkind. Or else a self-righteous busybody who somewhere picked up the notion that he was better than everybody else. Well, saints are better than everybody else. Oh, they are not. Why, they are saints. They are saints because they realized how bad they were in the first place and spent the rest of their lives trying to do something about it. Inigo, I'm sure that is a very novel idea. Oh, it's not original with me. Then I would suggest that you warn whoever gave it to you not to repeat it. The saints themselves gave it to me. It is implicit in the life of every one of them. Well, as your eldest brother and head of this household, I feel it my duty to advise you to put this problem before your confessor immediately returned to court. I am not returning to court. I'm sure he will be lenient because you know what? I am not returning to court or the army. But what would you do? Roughly what use I have suggested. Place my problem before a confessor. But Inigo for so small a sin to do such penance. If you had ever been a soldier, you would know that leaving the army is not penance, my brother. But the young lady at court. She was a lot wiser than I. She said I would come back, but not to her. Then to what? What will you do with your life? That is a problem I shall put before my confessor at Montserrat. Montserrat? At the shrine of our lady. There is a monastery nearby. Well, Don Inigo, these writings are very interesting. I call them spiritual exercises, Fri Antonio. Very interesting indeed. And they have been done since your arrival here at the monastery? Yes, Fri Antonio. I, of course, have thought much of such things during the months of my convalescence, but never bothered to put them down before. They are provocative. Quite provocative. I have written them mainly to aid myself in trying to discover what way I might best do God's will. A worthy motive, Don Inigo. And have you found them helpful? In many ways, yes. They have enabled me to examine my past life, see the sins and errors of that past. But they give no clue as to what should be your future, is that it? I feel with everything that is in me that to serve God as you do is my future. That is a common form of self-induced blindness, Don Inigo. Blindness? Yes. It suddenly comes to us, and quite accurately, that man's only reason for existence is to do the will of God. The bright truth of this is so overpowering that we immediately rush to someone else who happens to be serving God in his own way and ask to be pressed into precisely the same mold, whether we happen to fit into it or not. But we are taught that service to God involves such sacrifice. True. Once it is understood that the essence of Christian sacrifice is the subordination of your own will to God's. After all, Inigo, it was he who created you. He who willed the kind of person you are. But it is mine to do with that person. As he wishes. You have reviewed your weaknesses. Now examine your talents, which he gave you. Do you believe God created Inigo Lopez Sioia for a life of monastic contemplation, such as we lead here? I could do it. I would force myself into immobility. And how much service will you render to God in that condition? Ask yourself honestly, my son, would you contemplate or fall asleep? You've made your point, Fri Antonio. I am a soldier. And I have never known a soldier who liked sentry duty. You are a soldier. Yes, and also a seventh son. You know that in the Bible unusual qualities are imputed to a seventh son. Are you teasing me, Fri Antonio? Only to make a point. We are all seventh sons, Inigo. All distinct and particular in the eyes of God. And if we look diligently for him, he will find us. You said, start with my talents. I am a soldier. Shall I then be a soldier of Christ? Is that so hard a thing to imagine? And what will I fight? The evil that offends him. The pride, the lust, the gluttony. And the world's indifference to the love he has offered it. He would take an army of soldiers to win such a battle. I have no army. Armies are made of regiments and battalions, are they not? Even smaller, of companies. But does not a captain lead a company? And are you not a captain? To dare such a thing. A company of soldiers for Christ. A company of Jesus. A small band, willing to dedicate themselves to an endless struggle for the souls of men. And so it was in the first quarter of the 16th century that Captain Inigo López Ioya, now known to the world as Ignatius of Loyola, was first inspired to take the step that led to the founding of the company later called the Society of Jesus. There were long years between the beginnings of the dream and its realization. Years of poverty, failure and hardship. To merit the office of priesthood, the captain from Spain gave 20 more years of his life in preparatory study. At the time of his first decision to serve Christ, Greek and Latin were unknown to him. He would not even have understood the Latin quotation, which has become and remains the motto of the Society of Jesus which he founded. Ad Majorum Dei Glorium, for the greater glory of God. This has been Crosby again. You know, the program you've just heard was presented in commemoration of a great man and a great educator, Ignatius of Loyola, who died 400 years ago. He was a great man because he gave up everything to dedicate himself to God and then spent his entire lifetime working to bring others closer to him. A great educator because he believed in teaching subjects thoroughly and in the order of their importance. Even today, in the schools and the universities founded by Ignatius of Loyola or by his followers, theology or the study of God has the most important place in the curriculum. Ignatius was right. For even if a man knows more than anyone else in the world, if he doesn't know God, he lives in vain. He can never love his creator or even get close to him. And Ignatius knew the importance of being close to God. Basically, that's why family theater recommends daily family prayer. Because daily family prayer enables all members of a family through the simple investment of a few minutes a day, it enables them to keep themselves conscious of God's place in the family circle. They can express their gratitude for his blessings and by talking to him every day, keep close to him. And by so doing, ensure themselves of the continuance of those blessings. And when you pray as a family, there's still another benefit because the family that prays together stays together. More things are brought by prayer than this world dreams of. From Hollywood, Family Theater has brought you transcribed The Seventh Son starring Ricardo Montalban. Bing Crosby was your host. Others in our cast were Tudor Owen, Lou Krugman, Don Diamond, Gloria Grant and Marvin Miller. The script was written and directed for Family Theater by John T. Kelly with music composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman. This series of Family Theater broadcasts is made possible by the thousands of you who feel the need for this type of program, by the Mutual Network which has responded to this need and by the hundreds of stars of state screen and radio who give so unselfishly of their time and talent to appear on our Family Theater stage. To them and to you, our humble thanks. This is Tony LaFranco 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 when Family Theater will present The Fence, starring Richard Denning. Rosalyn Russell will be your hostess. Join us, won't you? Family Theater is broadcast throughout the world and originates in the Hollywood studios of the world's largest network. This is Mutual, the radio network for all America.