Starring Charles Boyer in The Gentlemen from Paris on the cavalcade of America, sponsored by DuPont, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. Ladies and gentlemen, a few days ago, Winston Churchill stood before a joint session of the Congress of the United States and declared that the new world stands as a beacon of hope to the exhausted peoples of the old world. He was not the first European to say this. Our play tonight concerns the man who was the first to say it, and in his time he too was a symbol of liberty for two worlds. He was the Marquis de Lafayette, and history has recorded for all time the high resolve, triumphant over every obstacle which brought him to the shores of the new world. Here in America he saw and was a part of the birth of a new order of freedom, a precious privilege for which men would gladly sacrifice and fight and die. DuPont presents Charles Boyer as the Marquis de Lafayette in The Gentlemen from Paris. Versailles, the year 1776, the Imperial Court of France. Ladies and gentlemen of the court, Her Majesty the Queen. May it be at your ease, ladies and gentlemen. Bonsoir, Marquis de Provence. Your Majesty. Oh, Monsieur de Lafayette, you are alone this evening? The Marquis begs your indulgence, Madame. She is indisposed. And so is His Majesty. Therefore, you will be my escort this evening. I am honoured. Tell me, Lafayette, how goes your present rebellion in America? My rebellion, Your Majesty. You see, Monsieur de Provence, the Marquis has no interest in it whatsoever. Perhaps I have been misinformed, Your Majesty. Not entirely, Monsieur de Provence. I did not say I had no interest in the Americans, Your Majesty. Indeed, my interest is considerable. Then tell me, Marquis, what sort of men are these colonials? Oh, I know little of the man, Madame, but the idea... Idea? What idea? The idea of freedom, of equality among men. Oh, Lafayette, I fear you are one of those Republicans who would send your poor king and queen off to the provinces... and have some sort of a dictator from the rabble. Your Majesty well knows my affection for herself and for the king. Besides, it is no dictator the Americans desire. Oh, then what is it? They desire only to have a share in governing themselves and a voice in choosing who shall govern them. Do you really believe, my de Lafayette, that peasants and artisans are capable of governing? If they wish it, then they could learn, slowly perhaps. Oh, what a weight off our poor shoulders if the people really could take care of some of this tedious detail. Indeed, Your Majesty. It would relieve you of much responsibility and care, and think of the joy of your people. It will amuse us to see how your Americans succeed in this, Lafayette. Certainly I cannot blame them for trying, living under that perfectly mad English king. Tell me, is it true he often fancies himself a foxhound? I have heard worse than that, madam. At least he is not mad enough to tolerate treason among his subjects. Please, Monsieur de Provence, this talk is nothing serious. Pray do not be more royal than the king. Lafayette, you, for example, have large estates, hundreds of serfs and peasants who bring you revenue. Yes. What would become of you if this rabble were not kept in check? I sometimes wonder. Then I will tell you. They would hang you to the nearest oak tree. Not if I joined with them. Joined with them? Yes, if they sought liberty and freedom. Then either you deceive yourself or you lie to us. Really, gentlemen? Did I understand you to say, I lie, Monsieur? You did. Monsieur. Monsieur de Lafayette, it is a long time since a member of the court has been struck in the presence of the Queen. I suggest that you return to your estates until your temper shows improvement. I beg that you allow him to remain, at least until my seconds are over. There is no objection to their calling at my estate. My most sincere apologies, Your Majesty. Good day. Lafayette. Lafayette. Speak with me outside. Well, you're in a fine mess now, my young Hotspur. Well, why did you provoke me? Why? You think this business of a rebellion against a European king is merely a matter for polite conversation? But I meant no insult. Why should it not be a matter for talk? Because if the Americans succeed, every king in Christendom will tremble for his crown. Every nobleman in France will fear for his money and his life. Are you serious, Dekalb? I have never been more serious. But what do you know of these Americans? I know that they are fighting. And they are fighting for the greatest ideal since Christianity. They believe that all men are created equal, have equal rights to what they themselves create with their sweat and blood. And if the Americans win? Yes, if they win. They need money and officers. It's like a dream, Dekalb. It is as though I were seeing a vision for the first time. A vision of something brave and noble and enduring that men will die for. Not yet. Would you? Yes, by all that I hold sacred. Yes, I would. Now then, Gilbert, what is this new excitement? I want to share it at once. My darling wife, how shall I begin to tell you? Surely it's not so desperate. At the end, darling, I'm going to America. America? Gilbert, you're mad. No, I'd be mad to stay here when the kind of world I want, the kind of world we want, is being fought for in America. But Gilbert, why should you risk everything for a lot of peasants and savages? They are not peasants and savages. They are a whole new race of men. The King would have you thrown into prison before he'd let you go. Look, I've bought a ship. We'll tell him it's for a holiday. He'll never know. Leave me to face Versailles alone. No, of course you're coming with me. No, no, I can't. Why? I have no choice in the matter, Gilbert. But why? I thought you were... Your Majesty, the Baron de Calde is calling. He says it's urgent. Oh, show him in, Harry. At the end, perhaps you'd better... No, Gilbert, I want to stay. Just yet. De Calde, how are you? What do you do? Forgive my muddy boots. I had to take the back roads. Even so, the King's men may have followed me here. Quick, men, what's the news? The Victoire stands ready to sail. Good. At the end, it's our ship. Yes, I know. De Calde, how many of our friends are sailing? Some 20 of us. The American agent has agreed to a commission of Major General for you, if you care to join us. Major General? You see at the end, they do want... You'll have to decide quickly. I have confidential news that the King has issued an order to prevent your sailing. He'll stop at nothing. We'll see about that. Gilbert, you mustn't. You might be killed. I'll wait for your answer in my apartment in the morning. The decision is now with you, Lafayette. Not me, us, my wife and I. Then... then bid him reconsider, madame. He has all the world to lose and nothing but a dream to follow. Nothing but a dream to follow? But what a dream, De Cab, that all men are created free and equal, and may one day win that God-given freedom. Well, then, until we meet, Lafayette. Adieu, madame. Au revoir, Monsieur De Cab. Gilbert, what does it all mean? It means your husband is in the fight to free humanity from 5,000 years of slavery with the rank of Major General. I'm so proud of you, Gilbert. Darling, there is a whole new world to establish, and France will be part of that new world. Gilbert, there's something I must say to you. I... I would go to America with you, but I can't. I... I'm going to have... Oh, Adrien. I... I hadn't meant to tell you like this. Oh, but, dearest, why haven't you told me before? You've been so worried and abstracted lately that I didn't want to upset you. I know, I know, darling. Forgive me. Well, I... I'll send a message to the cab tonight and tell him I'll not be sailing with them. We'll forget the whole business. Oh, no, Gilbert. You mustn't forget it. This dream, as the Baron called it, it's given you back your joy of living. It's brought new purpose and inspiration into your life. And if it should be only a dream, would you ever forgive me for leaving you to follow it? There's nothing to forgive if you love me, Gilbert. I do. I do love you, Adrien. Now and forever. Then go, my darling. I'd keep you from going if I could, but since I can't, I'll say goodbye to you in the morning in a manner becoming the wife of a soldier. Who was that? Open in the name of the King. Lafayette! Thank heaven they didn't find you. What is all this, Agathe? The King's men, Lafayette. I saw them as I was leaving. And I know they have a warrant for your arrest. My arrest? The King discovered your plan to go to America. Come on, my key. Out the back way. I have horses waiting. Oh, quickly, Gilbert, quickly. I'll detain the soldiers until you're gone. Goodbye, darling. I love you. God bless you. Goodbye, Gilbert. Goodbye. Bonsoir, monsieur. Bonsoir. You wish lodging for the night? I, uh, I know. That is my friend here. He's in bad shape. Uh, he was a servant under Bond to the, uh, Duke of Provence. Now, uh, if he can get to Spain, he'll be free. What's your name, bondsman? Eh, uh, Noaille. Ferdinand Noaille. Follow me, monsieur. I know a safe place, and I'll fetch you a suit of my brother's clothes. Anyone would recognize the Marquis de Lafayette and those. What? You know me? All France knows, Your Highness. And wishes you a safe voyage to America. Listen, what's that? A horseman coming this way. Have your musket ready. Shall I order him to halt? No, no, drop your arms, man. It's only a poor cloud of basque peasant. Let him pass. You may pass. Oh, thank you, monsieur. A thousand thanks. One moment. Did you see that saddle, lieutenant? What about it? That a crest. The Noaille crest. Lafayette's crest. After him, men, shoot him down! Anchor wave! Anchor wave! The cap! The cap! I barely made it. Lafayette, you're here at last. We'd given you up for loss. We were near to sailing without you. For shame. You would disappoint our commander-in-chief? Here, here's some hot rum, man. Thanks. Let's drink to our commander-in-chief. General Washington. To General Washington. And so Lafayette escapes King Louis XVI and imprisonment, escapes to America and his dream of democracy as the curtain falls on the first act of The Gentlemen from Paris starring Charles Boyer. This play is brought to you on the cavalcade of America, sponsored by DuPont, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. As we continue, the young Marquis de Lafayette, played by Charles Boyer, is waiting in an anteroom of General George Washington's headquarters outside Philadelphia. I tell you, Marquis, the general can see no one today. He has a review of the Pennsylvania regulars scheduled for this morning and expressly ordered... Oh, Colonel, please. I've come a long way to see General Washington. Oh, here. The letter from the Congress, showing that. I don't mean to be rude, Marquis, but these letters are common courtesies to foreigners. Then, Colonel, I shall have to command you to take me to General Washington. Command? My dear sir... Here is my commission as Major General in the Continental Army, sir. I see. Very well, sir. Follow me. I thank you. General Washington. Unbounded tension. I expressly... I had no choice, sir. This is the Marquis de Lafayette. It seems he holds a rank in our army. Hmm. Gentleman from Paris, eh? May I see your command, Marquis? Well, I have no command as yet, sir. Only the commission. And that's the commission you bought and paid for with the ministry in Paris, I dare say. Well, General Washington, I'm at a loss to understand my treatment at the hands of your countrymen. I came here because I believed in your cause and I've been shoved from pillar to post. Traitor like a spoiled child. You think you aren't. But, sir... Well, no matter. My Pennsylvania regulars are about to pass in review, Marquis. Will you receive their salute as our honored visitor from abroad? I shall be proud to do so. Believe me, sir. And you may tell them to commence the review, Mr. Tinch. I will, sir. After you, Marquis. I thank you, sir. You forgive us if our ranks are not so well disciplined as your King Louis men. But you see, these men are not professional soldiers. You may count that a blessing, sir. We do. We do, but will you when you see them? Here they come now, Marquis. Feast your eyes on the soldiers of liberty. But these are civilians, General Washington. Do the soldiers come later? These are the soldiers, Marquis. Soldiers? Many of them have no uniforms. Some of them have no boots. Such is the army of freedom, Marquis. Return my salute. Yes, sir. I hardly know how. I thought as much. Colonel Tinch, see that Major General Lafayette gets a safe conduct back to Philadelphia. Yes, sir. I will excuse you from this ordeal, sir. But I don't want to be excused. I want to help. I have money, General Washington. Too much money for any one man. I'll give half of it to see these men in proper boots and uniforms. Marquis de Lafayette, you cannot buy your way into this army. These men fight for something... Something you would not understand. There is a winter ahead. They need warm clothing. I'll see the Quartermaster about that, Marquis. I have no further time for you. Good day, sir. I'll see you to your carriage, Marquis. Now... All right. Very well, Colonel. Good day, General Washington. This way, Marquis. One moment, Colonel Tinch. Yes, sir. Colonel, I feel somehow that you are my friend. Can you hear me for a moment? If I can help you, Marquis? Well, tell me, why does General Washington resent my presence? And even if he does, how can he refuse my offer to clothe that wretched troop? General Washington doesn't show his feelings much, Marquis. He could weep for having to refuse your offer, believe me, he could. And I too, for that matter. And why? I can afford it and much more. And I want to help. This man's army is proud, Marquis, proud to a man. They'd wear sackcloth before they'd wear royalist boots. Oh, I'm not a royalist, I'm a Republican. I believe you, Marquis, but all these men know is that you're a rich foreigner who's sorry for them. Your title of Major General's got to be earned in these parts, Marquis. I'm blessed if I know how you'd go about that. You mean they would accept my help if I were one of them? Possibly. But you're not none other will be. I wonder. So, Marquis, still with us, I see? Oh, General Washington, give me a few moments for what I have to say. Hear me out, please. Good Lord, man. There's a war to be fought. Philadelphia's close to falling. And you ask me with all that weighing upon me to soothe your hurt feelings. No, I do not. I ask you to let me fight in your army without title, without pay. Forget my nationality and the mistakes I've made. Let me start as one of those men out there. Let me prove myself to them and to you. They'd never accept you, Marquis. Why not? Because you're not one of them. You're the Marquis de Lafayette. You came here for adventure like the young nobleman you are. This is no adventure, Marquis. It is the greatest adventure humanity has ever engaged upon. General Washington, I mean to be a part of it. Oh, these posturings of the young gentry are wearisome to me. General Washington, when I returned to France, I returned to prison. For I came here against the king's command. I left a wife in France, a wife whom I love more dearly than anything on this earth. I left her with child to come here because I thought this freedom you're fighting for is more than any one man's happiness. I made her believe it too. If I've done all this in vain, I'm afraid this love will never be the same again. I loved that way once, a long time ago. You've hit me where it hurts most, Lafayette. It's either your uncanny French cleverness or else. Well, there's hope for you, my boy. Then you will give me a chance to prove myself? We engage the enemy tomorrow at Brandywine Creek. Ride out with me at dawn. Mayhap there'll be a job to do. Ready, Marquis? Ready, sir. We'll ride slowly to the crest of the hill, men. There may be cause to spare our mounts. Yes, sir. You look fit enough, Marquis. These Pennsylvania hills with the sign of morning on them. What a beautiful country, sir. Tretuous when the snow falls. You've never known such cold in France as we know here when the wind blows from the wilderness. The air is clear and sharp, General Washington. Good air, fresh air for your child of liberty to go up in. Here's the crest. Draw up for a moment, Marquis. Come and he hopes. There's Sullivan's troops ahead there. That's Chad Ford over there. The main enemy wedge will come through there. Are they come now, sir? Our men are falling before they can engage them. It's the barrage. They're beginning to outflank us. The lines are scattering, sir. Take command of this troop, Lafayette. You will be in reserve to support the right flank. I'll wait here for tension. Yes, sir. General Washington! General Washington! Tank, how goes our other column? Our right flank's turning, sir. Have you time to reform routes? I doubt it, sir. Unless that reinforcement can hold them off above, we're not even able to achieve an orderly retreat. Everything depends now on that reinforcement. Good Lord in heaven. What is it? What's the trouble? Why, I sent that young fool, that Frenchman, to command that column. He's leading them right enough, sir. Have a look through this glass. My God, he is! Trench! We found a real soldier. The enemy's paying for every foot they advance, sir. But he's a fool, riding so far ahead of the troops, why, he'll be killed! They must bear a charmed life, sir. He's slicing at their forward men with a saber now. Trench! Our flank has reformed its ranks. Oh, if Lafayette can only hold them off for a moment longer. But, General, look, sir. What is it? What is it, Trench? The marquee is wounded. He must have been wounded by the enemy. His saddle is sopping with blood, and the whole flank of his horse is stained bright red. Come on, Trench, let's go out and help him. They're giving away, men. Now, grab them on the left. Lafayette! Lafayette! Come out, man, you're badly wounded. That's nothing, General Washington. Look, the enemy's retreating. I know, Lafayette, but you're done in. Come, Trench, give me the gun. I'm not going to let you get away. I'm going to kill you. I'm going to kill you. I'm going to kill you. I'm going to kill you. I'm going to kill you. I'm going to kill you. I'm going to kill you. I'm going to kill you. I'm going to kill you. I'm going to kill you. I'm going to kill you. I'm going to kill you. Well, my dear boy, I hope this is au revoir, not farewell. It is not farewell, sir. I go back to France with good reason. I know you do. That young wife of yours. How I should like to meet her. She could not love you more for meeting you, sir. You had a letter since I saw you. Yes, I have. May I read it to you? By all means, by all means. It says, darling, our little son is six months old now. I know you will be glad to know he was christened yesterday. I named him for our adopted father. His name is George Washington Lafayette. My boy, if you knew what this means to me. And she says, all France is buzzing with your exploits in America. Even Versailles is impressed. The King won't dare put you in jail. And this, this I'm almost afraid to put in a letter. But things have changed here very much. I think France will be America's ally before the year is up. I pray we'll be able to hold out until then. You will, sir. Lafayette, you came to us a boy looking for adventure. You leave us a man carrying honorable wounds and a great cause. And I say to you now, if we should never meet again, and if I and our ragged army should perish under the snows of this winter or the next, in years to come wherever men speak of liberty, they'll speak your name, Lafayette. General Washington, you must know how humble, how grateful I am to you. And to your America, you will win this wonderful freedom. You must. For the shackles of 5,000 years of slavery are yours to destroy. The fate of my own people is invisibly bound to you. Or who knows, perhaps there will come a day when the free peoples of America shall give of their might, strength and inspiration to France. A France of courage and wisdom who will hold her head high in the majesty of eternal freedom. Thank you, Charles Boyer, for your stirring performance tonight on the cavalcade of America. Ladies and gentlemen, in a few moments we shall hear again from our star, Charles Boyer. Meantime, Gaine Whitman has some interesting information for you about young men in DuPont. The war casts a new light on the DuPont Company's continued grant of funds this year to 21 American colleges and universities, which will in turn award fellowships supported by these funds to 28 graduate students of chemistry and chemical engineering. Wars are fought with brains. That has always been true. And in this war, more true than ever, science and technical know-how are paramount weapons. We'd like to tell you something about these fellowships, which are awarded entirely at the discretion of the various institutions, and which enable a number of young scientists year after year to continue their independent research and study. Since the DuPont Company began to help promising graduate students of chemistry with cash awards, fellowships have been granted to 478 American college students. In addition, for several years past, numerous awards have been made to students who have already obtained their doctor's degree of chemistry for further advanced work. This investment in the future of America has been a gratifying thing to the DuPont Company. Without singling out a few for individual mention, we can tell you that these highly trained men have gone out into the service of the American people and are now contributing their technical skill to such industries as aeronautics and transportation. They are serving as heads of departments in our leading universities, have gone into various branches of government service, while still others are directors of laboratories of American companies which are in the forefront of the drive to make America the arsenal of democracy. We haven't time to tell you what all 478 men are doing, but this random listing is typical of the jobs being done by the fine young scientific minds at work in the United States today. Two things about these fellowships granted each year by the DuPont Company are especially worthy of mention. One is that they have no strings attached to them. They go to many different universities and the appointments are made not by the DuPont Company, but by department heads of the universities themselves. Nor is there any expectation that the men will come back to work for DuPont after they finish their college courses. The DuPont Company is confident that the universities will choose the men who deserve the awards and that they in turn will go on in later life to whatever jobs will make the best use of their individual talents. The other thing of significance, as the record proves, is that these fine young scientists are a national resource of the highest order. Their skill in time of war is of inestimable value to the nation and more important still in the long run, their achievement as time goes on must increasingly enrich the future of a peacetime America. In that peacetime America to which we shall return, they will work shoulder to shoulder with all the men and women of the chemical industry, reducing and increasing abundance of better things for better living through chemistry. And now tonight's star, Charles Boyer. Thank you, Mr. Huston. I hardly need to tell you the emotions I have felt in playing the role of Lafayette on your cavalcade of America. That same feeling was shown, I think, Mr. Boyer, when the president just recently renamed the line of Normandy the Lafayette. Exactly. That is why in portraying Lafayette tonight on the cavalcade of America, I felt that France was speaking to America again. Oh, not merely the echo of history, but the voice of a nation which will again be liberated someday to fulfill Lafayette's pledge of human freedom and to live again in the glorious tradition of American democracy. Thank you, Mr. Boyer. And now a word about next week's show when we bring you another great Hollywood star, Bette Davis, in a play written and directed by the well-known radio dramatist, Arch Obler. Mr. Obler will direct the distinguished screen actress in a new version of his radio play, An American is Born, an imaginative and powerful interpretation of what it means to all of us to call this my own, my native land. Tonight's play, The Gentleman from Paris, was especially written for cavalcade by Robert Tallman. The original score was composed and directed by Robert Armbruster. Don't forget next week, Bette Davis in An American is Born, written and directed by Arch Obler on the cavalcade of America. This is John Easton sending best wishes from DuPont. This is the National Broadcasting Company.
