 DuPont presents The Cavalcade of America. Ladies and gentlemen, this is The Cavalcade of America, sponsored by DuPont, makers of better things for better living through chemistry. Tonight we have privilege to present the distinguished stars of the American Theater, Alfred Lunt and Lynn Fontaine in a new Christmas miracle play written for our times by Stephen Vincent Benech. It is called A Child Is Born. It's my task to say just where and how things happen in our play. It's an old task. Old is the human heart. Old is those bygone players in their arcs, who in old days when faith was nearer earth, played out the mystery of Jesus' birth in Hall or Village Venomarket Square for all who chose to come and see them there. So we tonight, who are your players too, ask to tell that self-contained tale to you. The time is time. The place is anywhere. The voices speak to you across the air to say that once again, a child is born. A child is born. I play you all, give us your audience, and hear this matter with reverence. There is a town where men and women live, as people do in troubled times. Times when the world is shaken. There is an inn. A woman sings there in the early morning. For God. For God. That's fine. That's wonderful. That answers everything. The country is occupied. We have no country. You've heard of that, perhaps. You've seen there's some truth, haven't you? You know just what can happen to our sort of people once there's a little trouble. Answer me. I've seen, I know, but... But, oh, la, la, la, sometime I think your ways will drive me mad. Is it your business what King Herod does? Is it your place to sing against King Herod? Do you pretend to know the ins and outs of politics and why the great folk do the thing they do? And why have to bear them? Because it's we, we, we who have to bear them. First and last and always in every country and in every town. They dinged us like dry wheat between the stones. Don't you know that? I know that somehow King should not be wicked and grind the people down. I know that things like Herod should not be... All right. All right. I'm not denying that. I'm reasonable enough. I know the world. It's a bad world, but it must last our time. Herod is Herod, but my ends my end. I do the best I can. I pay my taxes here in this conquered and forsaken land. And as for all your fine rebellious souls who hide in the hills and stir up trouble, call themselves to and prophesy that something new is coming to the world. The Lord knows what. Well, it's a long time coming. And meanwhile, we're the wheat between the stones. Something must come. Believe it if you choose, but meantime, if we're clever, we can live and even thrive a little. Clever wheat that slips between the grinding stones and grows into the good, the profitable grain. At least if you will not sing subversive songs to other people but your poor old husband who loves you still in spite of all your senses and always will. Come, wife. I've got some news. I didn't mean to be so angry with you. Give us a kiss. I couldn't help the child. I know you think of that this time of year. You're my son too, and I think of him. I couldn't help his dying. No, husband, no. He stretched his little arms to me and died. And yet I had the priest, the high priest too. I didn't spare the money. No, my husband, I'm a baron bow. I think and sing, and I'm a baron bow. Oh, come, come, come. The fault is mine. I had my joyous season, my season of full ripening and fruit, and then the silently aching breast. I thought I would have children. I was wrong. But my flesh aches to think I do not have them. I did not mean to speak of this at all. I do not speak of it. I will forget, not sing at all. I'm wrong, Tarsten Gunn. Tell me your news. Is it good news? That's the prefect comes to dinner here tonight with all his officers. Oh, yes, I know the enemy, of course the enemy, but someone has to feed them. And they are pay-ash on the nails. Yes, I thought you'd say so. Oh, you'll make no great profit. Not tonight. I've seen the bill of fare they asked me. Quails in midwinter. Well, we'll give them quails and charge them for them, too. No, that's right. They must be well-served. I'll care for that, the honest innkeeper, the thoughtful man. Oh, do not spoil my servants with large-essure worship. And he won't. He pinches pennies. But once he's come here, he will come again, and we shall live, not die, and put some coin, some solid enemy, and lovely coin under the heart. So how? Spoil the Egyptians. Oh, of course that. I'll go, maids aren't up yet, lazy bones. A minute, just a minute. It's early yet you needn't beat the door down. This is an honest inn. Oh, uh, good morning. Hail Caesar. You keep Rudess in? Yes, sir. Order from the prefect. No other guests shall be entertained at your inn tonight after sundown. The prefect wishes all the rooms to be the disposal of his guests. Sir, when the prefect first commanded me, there was a party of my countrymen engaged for a small room. You'll hear no noise, no noise at all. This is the prefect's feast. Recept and alias. You've heard your words? Yes, sir. Yes, indeed, sir. Well, see, they carried out. No other guests. Hail Caesar. Hail Caesar. Oh, that's a pleasant. All the rooms at the disposal of the prefect. No other guests. Remember, no other guests. I will remember. Do so. It's an order. Now, about the quail. You make the sauce. That's the important thing. A quail can taste like quail with a good sauce. You have your herbs. Well, then begin, begin. It's morning and we haven't too much time. Sarah, Leah, where are those lazy servants? Leah and Sarah come and help your mistress. I'll rouse the fools. There's work to do today. And the day passed. And the night fell on the town, silent and still and cold. The houses lay huddled and dark beneath the watching stars and only the in-windows streamed with light. What's the prefect saying up there? Gentlemen, men of Rome, mindful of Rome's historic destiny and of our good friend King Herod, who has chosen a life for Rome rather than a useless shuttle, hit some under with a firm hand. Oh, what was he saying up there? I don't know. I don't know the big words. He told you so. You and your soldier. Oh, he's not so good. He brought me a trinket, please. You and your Roman treats. I hate serving them. I'd like to spit them out each time I serve them. Oh, you wouldn't dare. Oh, wouldn't I, though? Yeah, yeah. What's this? Why are you standing idle? They're calling for more wine. Let Leah serve them. She likes their looks. Sarah. Yes, Mrs. Please, Sarah, we've talked like this so many times. Very well, Mrs. but let her go first. Get up to stay, you little soap comfort. I'll be pinching you. Mrs. It's not my fault. Just, Sarah. Go, go. Both of them. You've got to beat the girl. She's insolent and shows it. You can't be too hard on her father's dead and her brother's in the hills. And yet she used to be a merry child. I can remember her when she was merry. A long time since. You always take their side and yet you think a self-respecting in could have some decent and well-mannered maids. No such luck. Soloms and flops. A lot of them. Give me a stool. I'm tired. Say, uh, 30 dinners and double for the prefect and wine. Best, second best and common. Not bad, but then why do you sit there staring at the fire so silent and so waiting and so still? I do not know. I'm waiting. Waiting for what? I do not know for something new and strange, something I've dreamt about in some deep sleep truer than any waiting heard about long ago, so long ago in sunshine and the summer grass of childhood when the sky seems so near. I do not know its shape. Its will. Its purpose. And yet all day its will has been upon me and there is light in it and fire and peace. Newness of heart and strangeness like a sword and all my body trembles under it and yet I do not know. You're tired, my dear. Well, we shall sleep soon. No, I'm not tired. I'm expectant of a runner before a race, a child before a feast day, a woman at the gates of life and death expectant first all for all of us who live and suffer on this little earth with such small brotherhood. Something begins. Something is full of change and such... The travelers in this place are called. May we enter? Who is it? Just a pair of hundred people, a woman and a man. I am sorry for them. My wife and I are weary. May we come in? I am sorry, my good men. We have no room tonight. The prefect's orders. No room at all? Oh, no, it's not my fault. You look like honest and well-meaning folk and nobody likes turning trade away, but I'm not my own master. Not tonight. It may be in the morning. Wait! Must you mix in this? Wait! Compare the enemy in our house and me. I did not see your wife. I did not know. Her name is Mary. She is near her time. Yes, yes. Go get a lantern. Quickly! What? Quickly! I once had a child. We have no room. We have no room. That's true. And it would not be here. Not now. Not with those men whose voices you can hear. Our voices of death and iron. King Herod's voices. That are the friendly. What am I saying? We have a stable at the end. Safe from the cold at least. And if you choose, you shall be very welcome. We share it. Gladly. And with great joy. The lantern. Haven't. May. I will take it. I can see the path. Come. I suppose that you must have your way and any other night. There are decent people or seem to be. He has his arm about her. Moving out the roughness of the past for her. Although they are not even people of our town as I suppose you know. So rough a path to tread with weary feet. Men. There's frost upon the air tonight. I'm cold or. Yes I must be cold. That's it. That's it now to be sure. Come shut the door. Something green walks abroad in flashing spirit and fire. Something is loose to change the shaken world. The stars march in the sky. The prefect men are gone. The world is quiet. But in the street outside. You're divine but with good news. These people shine with it. Cold and so late. Poor creatures. Call them in. The prefect men are gone. I'm the master. He's dosing. Do as I tell you. The ground is the stable. The stable of our inn. The stable of our inn. And they are gone. Aye. Gone. But Mr. Steele here. Fortune. Oh what fortune stand from the window there I'll speak to the girl. I'll speak to them. My gracious noble lord. Worthy and mighty king. Our humble inn is honored by your high nobility. Come in. Come in. We fire in beds and wine. Come in. Come in. Carry over and rest. We cannot stay. We follow the bright stars. They do not understand it. They're gone. They did not even look at me. So there's no other inn. They follow the poor shepherds to the stable. They would not carry with us. No. Not one. And yes. Peace husband. You know well enough why none would carry with us and so do I. I lay off while in sleep and the voice said to me. Gloria. Gloria. In excelsis Dale. The child is born. The child. The child is born. And yet I did not rise and go to him though I had waited and expected long for I was jealous that my child should die and her child live and so I have my judgment. And it's just. Dreams. Well baby. The shepherds and the kings. Is it a dream this glory that we feel screaming upon us and yet not for us. Now mister. This is my fault not yours. You told me this is the same day in a stable and see they had all care about. I forgot. The thought was mine. You told me also but. I did not go. If there was any fault wife it was mine. I did not wish to turn them from my door and yet. I know I love the chink of money love it too well the good sound something corn. Love it. Oh God since I am speaking truth better than wife or fire or chick or child better than country better than good fame would sell my people for it in the street all for a price but seldom and there are many like me and God pity us. God pity us indeed for we are human and not always see the vision when it comes the shining change or if we see it do not follow it because it's too hard too strange too new and now I know the standing in this life will be half alive these many years on my own sorrow my own pain life is not lost by dying life is lost minutes by minutes day by dragging day in all the thousands small uncaring ways the fools are pleasing compromises of time with a king Herod and King Herod's men always and always life can be lost without vision but not lost by death lost by not caring willing going on beyond the ragged edge of what if you do something more something no man has seen you who love money you who love yourself you who love bitterness and I who love them love them thought I could not love again and all the people of this little town rise up the love we had were not enough something is loose to change the shaken world and with it we must change now that's well said who sticks there who are you well my name is business I'm a thief you know star fleeting sort of boy who hunts dark alleyways in any town sleeps in a fruit sack runs from the police begs what he can and borrows what he must that's me how did you get her by the door in keeper the cellar door lock upon old I could pick locks like that five what have you taken nothing I tried the stable first in your cellar I slipped in kept up rolling beneath the bench while all your honest backs were turned and then and then well something happened I don't know what I didn't see a shepherd's ear King's book in the stable I did see the child just feel a click in the book one moment space that's all I can tell you easy for me easy for me as well easy for me for you was easy for all of us there are so many of its worthy mistress beggars who sure is sore as an aspirant women cough their lungs out in the cold slaves I've been one thieves and renegades who knife each other for a bit of bread having no other way to get the bread the vast see the wretched and the poor whose murmur comes so faintly to your ears in this fine country as we come to all of us are just to you to every man alive I wish I could believe it and if you did no doubt you'd give up beating gently lady gently beatings my trade the only trade I know but if it were true if you come to all of us I say to all of us then honest man of faith I'd hang upon a cross for him would you well I see I said something go right something uncouth and bold and terrifying yet I'll tell you this it won't be till each one of us is willing not you not me but every one of us to hang upon a cross for every man who suffers stars and died but there'll be no crosses and no tyrants no herds and no slaves well it was pleasant thinking things might be so so I'll say farewell I've taken nothing he was a fair child to look at wait why what is it you see there by the window the dawn the common dawn the ordinary and poor and muscle day the shepherds and the kings have gone way the big angelic visitors are gone he is alone he must not be alone I do not understand you why in your eye because I see it last business but he is right he comes to all of us or comes to none we are lost his word must sound like wheat and at times no else it cannot grow we are either the mortal and the dying led by no star the selling and the slot but he's the selfish man the barren woman and yet unless we go is not it shows we'll be think we'll be bring brother he would be good the would bring brotherhood and yet he will be not that in the street wife playing here in the four he will not play king have a people died there will be at the ahead of other talent great war and useless struggle to be free not always won he's a sad He's a sad tidings. No, no! They're glad tidings of great joy, because he brings man's freedom in his hands, the thought, the wish, the dream of brotherhood, never and never whole later be lost. The water and the blood of the oppressed, the stay and sucker of the resolute, the hummest of the valiant and the brave, the new word that has changed the shaken world. And though he die, his word shall grow like wheat, and every time a child is born in pain and love and freedom, hardly one, born and gone forth to help and raise mankind, there will be women with a right to say, Gloria, Gloria, in excelsis Deo, a child is born. Gloria, Gloria. Come, let us go. What can we bring him? What mortal gift? I have risen. It's not previous. It's not much, but he might play with that. I have a little bell my father gave me. It used to make me merry. I kept it. He may have it. My pocket's empty, my rags are bare. But I can sing to him. That's what I'll do. And if he needs a faith to die for him, don't speak of dying. It's a nasty thing, nasty and cold. And I will give my gold. I say I'll give my gold. All of my gold, every round piece. Oh, do not look at me so judgingly with your child's candid eyes. I am but a man. I will give all, give all, give all my heart. And I, my faith, through all the years and years, though I forget, though I am led astray, though after this I never see his face, I will give all of my faith. Come, let us all, we the poor earth, but we the faithful earth, not yet the joyful, not yet the triumphant, but faithful, faithful to the end of time. Come. Come. Are you faithful, joyful and triumphant? Come ye, oh come ye to Bethlehem. To Alfred Lunt and Lynn Fontan and to Stephen Vincent Benet, who wrote A Child Is Born, DuPont extends its warm thanks and deep appreciation for their contribution at this Christmas season on the cavalcade of America. And to all our cavalcade listeners, we extend our Christmas greeting, a greeting of peace on earth, goodwill toward men. Those words are as radiantly hopeful as ever in this bitter year of war and as strong. So it is with hope and courage and abiding faith that the 200,000 men and women of DuPont join at this Christmas season with people of goodwill everywhere, in search for the greatest gifts of all, victory and peace. This week, ladies and gentlemen, the cavalcade of America sponsored by DuPont will present Paul Muni in Eagle's Nest, a play about Garibaldi, the liberator who brought freedoms to the Italian people, a freedom which has since been snatched away from them by a ruthless dictator. Be with us again next week when the cavalcade of America presents Paul Muni at Garibaldi. On tonight's program, the orchestra and original score by Arden Cornwell were under the direction of Donnery. This is Clayton Collier sending best wishes from DuPont. The program came to you from New York. This is the national broadcasting company.