 Hollywood, California, Monday, July 5th. The Lux Radio Theatre presents Robert Montgomery in Bo Brummo with Madgevins and an all-star cast. Lux presents Hollywood. Our stars, Robert Montgomery, Madgevins, Leo G. Carroll, Graham Will Fletcher, Gene and Kathleen Lockhart and Edwin Maxwell. As special guests, we have Mrs. Wallace Reed, wife of the late idol of the screen. Mrs. Reed is associate producer of Monogram Studios. Our producer, Cecil B. DeMille, our conductor, Louis Silvers. This program comes to you through the makers of Lux Toilet soap, as a means of showing you their appreciation of your pronounced preference for this fine soap, used by nine out of ten screen stars. Here or at home, we extend to you a hearty welcome to the Lux Radio Theatre. A girl's skin often tells a lot about the girl herself. If it's clear and smooth, you can't help feeling she's attractive, alert and up to date. But sometimes her skin makes you believe she's the lazy, careless type. For often, just from carelessness, from failure to remove cosmetics thoroughly, her skin can become dull and have tiny blemishes and enlarged pores, signs of cosmetic skin. But by using Lux Toilet soap regularly, you can guard against this modern complexion trouble. Lux Toilet soap has an active lather that removes stale rouge and powder thoroughly. This gentle, pure soap guards against dangerous pore choking. Remember this simple beauty care. Follow it and have the satisfaction of knowing that you are keeping your complexion at its very loveliest. Use Lux Toilet soap before you put on fresh makeup, and always before you go to bed at night. Buy some Lux Toilet soap tomorrow. And now, our producer, ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Cecil B. DeMille. Greetings from Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen. For the truest portrait of George Brian Brummel, look outside your window tonight. His career like the Roman candle that flared across the sky, emblazoned the earth for a while in brilliant glory, then dimmed forever and was gone. Born in England, while war was being waged for the independence we celebrate today, Bo Brummel was the sublime dandy of all time. He lived in an age of fashion and super sophistication, cutting his phrases with a tongue as sharp as the shears that styled his elegant attire. Not of noble birth, he cared nothing for those who were. He ruled society with audacity and invincible calm. A duchess once walked backwards out of her room, because Brummel said her back was an offense to his eye. The lace of his boots, the blue of his coat, the number of buttons that decorated his trousers just above the ankles, were as much the laws of England as if decreed by Parliament itself. That was Bo Brummel, who lives again on our stage tonight, as played by Robert Montgomery of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios. One of the few stars using the name he was born with, Bob's first job was that of an assistant railroad mechanic in charge of tapping wheels. After a spell as a deck hand, he joined a stock company and played 70 different characters in 72 weeks. His president of the Screen Actors Guild has ambitions to write, direct, and to see more of his farm in Upper New York State. Unsurpassed in devil-me-care roles, Bob's done a turnabout in his current picture, Night Must Fall, delivering one of the year's best serious performances. Love, Live and Learn is the title of his next film. Playing opposite him tonight in the role of Marianna is Bob's co-worker from MGM, Maj Evans, one of the best reasons why Hollywood is renowned for its beautiful women. An actress since childhood, Maj ranks high on the lists of the screen's most accomplished players. Our all-star cast finds Leo G. Carroll as Brummel's servant Mortimer, Bramwell Fletcher as Reginald, Jean Lockhart as the Prince, Kathleen Lockhart as Mrs. St. Orban, and Edwin Maxwell as Mr. Vincent. Somewhere in a distant corner of the South Pacific is Miss Amelia Earhart, who had planned at this moment to be on the stage of the Lux Radio Theatre. I know everyone hearing me now joins in our hope that the rescuers of Miss Earhart and her navigator Fred Noonan will reach them swiftly and find them safe. I've just spoken with George Palmer Putnam, husband of Miss Earhart in Oakland. Considerably more encouraged than he was yesterday, Mr. Putnam says that after a careful check of all reports, he believes the flyers are on land. He adds that they have adequate supplies, which should last Miss Earhart and Captain Noonan until the arrival of rescue ships or planes. At the end of this hour, we have an important announcement for you. But now, on with the play as the Lux Radio Theatre presents Robert Montgomery and Madge Evans in Bo Brummel with an all-star Hollywood cast. London in the year 1820, and our scene is the handsomely furnished dressing room of Bo Brummel. It's 11 o'clock in the morning, the fashionable hour of rising. Seated in front of his dressing table mirror, Bo Brummel appraises his reflection with a critical eye. His servant Mortimer hovers about, offering articles of dress and the gossip of the day. Will you wear the yellow waistcoat, Mr. Brummel, sir? A yellow waistcoat with green trousers? Really, Mortimer? Must I appear on the streets looking like a canary? Your pardon, sir. The ten waistcoat, of course, sir. With the brocade, please. And a ruffle shirt this morning? Yes, Mr. Brummel. Now continue. What further news in London? None of any account, sir. The Dowager Lady Slopington ran off yesterday with young Philip Pettiboon. If it happened yesterday, it must be forgotten today. And Captain Badminton shot himself in the park last night, sir, after losing 10,000 pounds at hazard. Oh, very stupid of him. He should have shot himself first. Is he dead, Mortimer? No, sir. Really? Well, he always was a bad shot. You'll find some of his IOUs among my papers. Return them to him, cancel with my compliments. He can use them for prasters. And who has called? Oh, nobody, sir. To be sure, there's been the usual crowd of people with invitations for dinners and balls, sir. Yes, of course. And the usual crowd of creditors with their bills and accounts. Hmm. I said you were not able to see them because you had spent the evening with the Prince, sir. Please, Mortimer, you must be more careful. Tradespeople are apt to look upon dissipation very differently from persons in fashion. You may say what you like about our plump friend, the Prince. But handle me a little delicately, please. Your pardon, sir. Will you examine the bills, sir? Certainly not, Mortimer. Hide them away somewhere where I can't see them. And I shall feel as if they've been paid. Mr. Brummell, sir, there's one that came by messenger. A memorandum of your IOU for a thousand pounds. Some you lost to Lord Gainsby three nights ago at the card table. Ah, the juice, Mortimer. It must be paid today. It's a debt of honor. How can we get the money? I might try him, Mr. Abrams, again, sir. But he was very difficult the last time. Hmm. Mr. Brummell, sir, this can't go on much longer. No. No, I hope not. Everybody's pressing on you, and the only thing that keeps them off at all is your friendship with the Prince. And if anything should happen to that, sir... Nothing could happen to that, Mortimer. And if anything did, I should cut the Prince and make the old King the fashion. If I... If I might be so bold, sir, I've been wondering, Mr. Brummell, of the advisability of a rich manage. Yes, yes, it has occurred to me occasionally. In fact, it has passed through my mind quite recently that it might be desirable. Only to decide on the person really seems too difficult a task for me to undertake. You would not have me marry a mere money bag, Mortimer? But the great Mr. Brummell has only to choose, sir. Yes, yes, of course. But one desires some sentiment. I wouldn't care to make a loan for life and give myself a security. Mr. Brummell, sir, have you ever observed Miss Mariana Vincent? Yes, yes, I've noticed her in the park. Her person is perfect. Is her matrimonial figure as good? I believe it is sixty thousand pounds, sir. But Mr. Vincent would be ashamed to offer so little to the wife of Mr. Brummell. I should hope so. But if Mrs. St. Orbin should hear of this... Mrs. St. Orbin has no claim upon you, sir. Her attraction for you is purely platonic. I've heard you say so. Quite true, quite true. And if you could present her to the Prince, Mr. Brummell, don't you think a platonic friendship might spring up? She is ambitious, is Mrs. St. Orbin, but she'll never forgive a slight. Well, we shall see. Mortimer, write a letter to Mr. Vincent. Make my proposal for his daughter's hand. Be mindful of your language and careful to accomplish it in the most elegant manner. And request an immediate reply. Yes, sir, but don't you think... What is it, Simpson? Mr. Brummell's nephew, sir. Mr. Reginald Cortney. Ask him to come in here. Mr. Cortney? Thank you, thank you. You are evidently laboring under the impression that I'm a great distance off. Sorry, sir. Good morning, Reginald. Good morning. I hope you're well, sir. No, no, I've contracted a cold. I suppose everybody will have cold. You can make anything fashionable, Uncle Bo. Yes. As well, Reginald, I'm delighted to see you. Thank you. The fact is I've come on rather an important mission. Important? I'm afraid it'll have to wait. What? Till after I've had my chocolate. But, Uncle Bo... To discuss important questions before breakfast, my boy is savagery in the extreme. Sit down, my boy. Sit down. Mortimer, have Simpson put another cup on the table. No, thank you, Mortimer. Mr. Brummell, sir. One, Mortimer. You know I always have only one. Very good, sir. Well, Reginald. May I begin now? Yes, I think so. Well, Bo, uh, Uncle Bo, I need your help and your advice. Yes, yes, of course. You, uh, you haven't got yourself in any difficulties, I hope? No, sir, not exactly. You're the one person in the world, Reginald, for whom I have any real affection. I should age to see you involved in anything from which I couldn't free you. Well? Well, what is it, Reginald? If you're in debt, I'll give you a letter to Mr. Abrams. If you're in the Daldrums, I'll give you one to Mrs. St. Orban. I'm in neither, Uncle Bo. I'm in love. Uh, that's worse than either. How do you know you are? Why, well, I, I feel it. I live only when she's present and merely exist when away from her. Reginald, don't talk like a family newspaper. Is your fair one possible? If you mean is she a gentle woman? She is, and besides, she's young and beautiful. Yes, yes, of course she would be. But does she return your, uh, passion? She loves me, Uncle. Yes, of course she would, but, uh... But her father doesn't. Ah, yes. He's refused to let me see her again. We have to meet secretly. But why? Because he has an eye on a title for her. He's rich enough now, and he's beginning to have social ambitions. That's all he cares about. But she, well, she doesn't care about anything. Only, only me. Reginald, you're more conceited than I am. Impossible, sir. Oh, no, I mean... Never mind, never mind. What do you want me to do about your little romance? I want you to help me to win over her father. I could do it, I think, if I were, well, if I were somebody in a social way. And you know everyone, Uncle Bo, all the way up to the prince himself. And the king. And the king. Oh, my boy, you shall have the girl if I have to plead for you myself. That will hardly be necessary, of course. Come back tomorrow, Reginald, and I shall make you the most talked of, the most socially prominent young gentleman in London. How, sir? How? I shall allow you to be seen with me in public. Uncle Bo! We shall walk together through the park. Yes. And be seen together at the coffee shop for a few minutes. Oh, my boy, can anyone possibly do anything more for you? No, Uncle. Oh, yes, Uncle. You can do one more thing. I've left my purse at home. Lend me a couple of crowns. Reginald, you know I never use silver. It's dirty and it's heavy. Now, Simpson, for a few guineas as you go out. By the way, Reginald, it's just possible that I may enter into the golden bands myself. I am thinking somewhat of a marriage with a certain young lady whose charm, strange to say, very much resemble those you would have described had I permitted you to inflict me. You, Mary, Uncle, you? You think I'm too old, perhaps? Oh, no, sir. You're hardly over 40, sir. 36. Yes, sir. I'm very serious, Reginald. I think I may marry. Then, Uncle, I'm glad for you. Thank you, Reginald. Run along now. I have an early appointment with our stout Prince Regent. We're going to ride along the mall in his carriage. He thinks that jiggling on the cobblestones may reduce his weight. Good day, sir. And I can't tell you how much I appreciate being seen out with you tomorrow. Reginald, Reginald, don't bombard me. Well, good day, Uncle Bolton. Good day, Reginald. And if you will do me the honor to call upon thee, or if I may do myself the honor of appearing on your doorstep tomorrow evening, I'm sure the association will be of mutual satisfaction. My very kindest greetings to your gracious and charming daughter, Mariana. Signed your most respectful and most obedient servant, Mr. Beau Brummel. Beau Brummel, do you hear, Mariana? I hear, Father. Do you know what this means, I hope? He wants to ask for your hand. Of course he does. Well, he doesn't say so. But look here. Three times he mentions your name, asks after your help. There's no doubt of it, Mariana. Mr. Beau Brummel wants to marry you. Yes. Well, you're a cold piece of goods. Am I, Father? Perhaps it doesn't mean as much to me as it does to you. It means a social position in London second to none. That's what it means. Why, I may even be given the title. When you marry Beau Brummel... You mean if I marry Beau Brummel. Don't you, Father? Hmm? What's this? He hasn't asked me yet, and I haven't accepted him. Mariana, are you mad? Am I to work all this time to marry you into a decent name and have it go for nothing? We have a decent name, Father. And an honest name, too. Yes. And with a little luck, the name of Vincent will be known throughout the court. It's known there now, I think. Eh? They can read it on the buttons of their coat. My dear, I am not a tailor. I am a cloth merchant. You seem anxious to forget it these days. I'm not. I'm not. I've been a cloth merchant all my life. And a good one. Is that a reason why I shouldn't be an Earl? An Earl? You are aiming high. Well, a knight at least. I don't hesitate to say it. Nor hesitate to use me to get it for you. Now, Mariana, what's come over you? Another girl would jump at the chance to marry Beau Brummel. Another girl may think that title and position are more important than... than... Than love. Now I see it. That young fool, Courtney. He's the one who's turned your head. I really believe you'd marry Reginald Courtney, a fellow without a shilling to his name, and pass up the greatest catch of the day, wouldn't you? Yes, I would. Well, you shan't. Do you understand? You shan't. I forbidden him the house, and I mean it. Then I'll see him outside of the house. I have been seeing him. Mariana. I told you I would. I should know better than to demand things of you. Now I must ask you not to see Reginald Courtney. I ask you, Mariana. I'm sorry, Father. It's for your own good, child. Believe me, it is. And it's for your own good to consider a proposal from Beau Brummel. He's as penniless as Reginald. You know that. But he has a name. A name. Yes, a name for gambling, a name for flandering, a name for all the petty little vices that a man can have. Well, he won't make it my name. Because I won't have it. I won't marry him. And if he comes tomorrow, I won't even see him. Mariana, come back here. I'm going to my room. It's Mariana. Well, I've been waiting for you to come. What is it, Kathleen? That young gentleman is here again. Mr. Courtney. Reginald? Where is he? In the garden. Behind the tree in the other back gate. I'll see him. Wait here, Kathleen. Yes, Miss Mariana. Reginald. Mariana. I thought you'd never get here. I didn't know. Kathleen just told me. Here. We can sit behind the tree. Let me look at you. Oh, you're more beautiful than you were yesterday. I won't be if Father catches up. Come on. I hate skulking about like this, but I had to see you. I hate it more than you, darling. It's been horrible. Oh, Mariana. And now I suppose it will be worse than ever. It can't be much. What do you mean? Nothing. Has your father been at my throat again? As usual. He won't be for long. I've got a little surprise in store for him. And for you. Surprise? Tomorrow. Tomorrow? What? Tomorrow I shall go for a walk in the park. The rest is the surprise. Tomorrow may bring more surprises than you think. In the evening a gentleman is coming to call on me. What? Oh, a very fine gentleman. A gentleman whose hair is curled in the latest mode, whose buckles even are the latest to be seen, whose smells are the very latest perfumes. Are you jesting, Mariana? Worst luck, I'm not. Who is the man? Why is he coming? Let's not talk of it, Reginald Darling. He wants you to marry him. That's it, isn't it? I suppose so. You must feel very flattered. A real gentleman. Reginald. It's a strange thing that he's allowed the front door while I have to sneak about hiding behind trees. That isn't my fault. Who is he? Does it matter, darling? I suppose you've sent your acceptance. Reginald, please. If I'd known you were going to act like this, I shouldn't have told you. Well, how do you expect me to act? Am I to stand by and watch some caught dandy steal you away from me? He hasn't stolen me yet. Yet? Oh, I see. He might, though. There's a chance of it. I didn't say that. That's what you meant. Oh, you're unreasonable. You're not going to see him. You understand that? I won't allow it. You won't allow it? I'm a little tired of having my life routine by other people. I'm a little tired of being told what to do and what not to do. Hereafter, I shall do what I like. You refuse me then? I shall do what I like. Very well then. Marry him. Go on, take him. If you continue to act like this, I shall. So you marry despite me. That's the kind you are. I have a mind and a will of my own. I shall marry whom I like, when I like, and where I like. Very well then. I wish you happiness. Goodbye, Miss Vincent. Goodbye, Mr. Courtney. Reginald. Reginald. Hey, Mr. Breville. This way. I've prepared her for your visit. She knows you're here. Thank you. She's in the drawing room. Mariana? Mariana, my dear. Yes, Father? Allow me to present my daughter, sir. Mr. Beau Brummel, Mariana. Your servant, Miss Vincent? Your servant, sir. Oh, dear me, I just remembered. There was a, there was something. I had to attend to. You will excuse me, Mr. Brummel? Yes, of course. Thank you. Thank you. Won't you sit down, sir? Thank you. The most kind of you to permit this rather informal visit, Miss Vincent. I had a reason, Mr. Brummel. Eh? So would I. Perhaps you can guess it. Perhaps. I am glad. It will save us no end of tedious conversation. And can you guess my reason? Oh, I know. Well, I'm glad too. It must be very disconcerting to have once thought so easily read by a complete stranger. You have a ready wit, Miss Vincent. Thank you. How is it you're not at white this evening, sir? At the gaming table? I'm tired of the cards, Miss Vincent. They are too fickle. And besides, I am always unlucky. Unlucky at cards, lucky in... Love? Yes. That's why I'm here. Well, what sort of a hand shall I deal you? Yours, I hope. Are diamonds, Trump? Oh, no. Hearts. Oh, I'm sorry. I haven't won in the past. Then you deal your cards badly. That is because I have chosen nature, not art, to be my mistress. By my manners, I have a mind to bring dame nature into fashion again. Then there's not a woman in London who could show her face. But you. And if you were dame to be seen always on my arm? Always, Mr. Brummel? I fear you would wear me as you do your coat and throw me aside when I'm wrinkled. Oh, please, please, don't mention wrinkles. They give me the jaundice. I cannot but remember that only yesterday, every bench in the mall, every ladies' tea table, every entrecque to the play, was the occasion for apportings of Mr. Brummel's fancy for the honorable Mrs. St. Auburn. You cannot imagine I have not favoured some women more than others. Mrs. St. Auburn was clever and amused me. We passed our time in laughter, nothing loving. And now she is out of there. On the contrary, she's greatly in favour with the prince himself. You threw her to him then? As you do your styles and your worn-out quips? You do the prince in injustice, Miss Vincent. But you're quite right, of course. You're very frank. Oh, no. Lying is one of the finer arts of life. But I never practice it unless there's a chance that I can do it justice. It would be a shame to waste a perfectly good lie on a person who doesn't believe it. You're very amusing, Mr. Brummel. Yes, I know. Do you? And I am in the hope, Miss Vincent, that I may continue to amuse you often. Often? If you will accept my escort into the social life of London. If I may have the pleasure of your company at Mrs. Anna's dinner and the prince's reception, I, uh, the prince's reception. Yes, yes, I heard. And your answer? We shall see, Mr. Brummel. Thank you. Your servant, Miss Vincent. Your servant, sir. Your most respectful servant, Miss Vincent. Your most respectful servant, sir. Your most ardent servant, Miss Vincent. Your most...your servant, sir. Bob Brummel continues in the Lux Radio Theatre in a moment. In the meantime, let's imagine we're looking in on stage B out on the Warner Brothers lot. Since 10 this morning, 64 girls have been rehearsing a tricky new dance routine. It's the last time through now, and the director is watching one girl in particular. Come on! Get your feet up! Come on, Kelly! Watch me in deep time! We're in less way together! Oh, terrible! Okay, that's all. Everybody on stage and costume attend them all. I'm Peggy Kelly. Remember that foot change. Oh, boy, am I tired. I just hurt all over. Oh, me too. Now, I almost wish I wasn't going dancing with Jim. Ah, don't worry. Remember how a Lux toilet soap bath peps you up. That's right, darling. Of course, I feel brand new. The active lather of Lux toilet soap removes perspiration in every last trace of dust and dirt. It leaves skin really fresh, delicately perfumed. Your refreshed daintiness is protected. Once again, Mr. DeMille. We return to Robert Montgomery, Madge Evans, and the story of Beau Brummel. Two weeks have passed. Having received no further word from Reginald, Mariana has permitted Beau Brummel to escort her about London. It's the afternoon of the Prince's reception. Beau Brummel in his drawing room entertains the thoroughly jealous Mrs. St. Auburn. You're very kind, Beau. But I don't wish to give up your devotion altogether. Not even for the princes. Take both, Horatia. Mine you will always have. Did you think me blind when you presented the Vincent's at Mrs. Honour's and at Lady Marley's? I know your purpose. And I know your reason for presenting them at the princes this evening. I do know more for the Vincent's than I've done for you. It was I who introduced you to the Prince also. Fortunately, he's now very fond of you. Oh, it was not for my sake you introduced me. But for your own. It was a pleasant way to get rid of me. No way with such a destination could possibly be pleasant. You've passed the Prince with the conceit that he is driving you out of my affections against your will. Suppose he should know the truth. Royal personages are so rarely told the truth that if he did hear it, he wouldn't recognize it. What would become of his friendship for you, do you think? And what would you do without it? Would you have my sincere sympathy? Suppose I were to inform him? My dear Horace, it would not be so foolish as to ruin herself. What the Prince, do you think, still care for you if he thought I no longer admired you? I will not be thrown over for the daughter of a cloth merchant. The Prince shall know whom he is entertaining this evening and he shall know why. I shall see to it. Then you shall have my sympathy also. Oh, no. You seem to forget, my dear Beau, that you have already dosed on me. We are both playing a little game, you and I. But I am persuaded I shall win, for I stake on a heart. Your fortune will turn for you stake on a knave. And the knave is you? Exactly. And what will take my knave when the king is out of the pack? Why, then, I think a queen might turn up. And the queen? Miss Mariana Vinson. Good day, Mr. Brummel. Good day, Horace. And the silver coat, Mortimer. We must be at our best this evening. Quite right, Mr. Brummel. There's no telling what may happen. But I have a feeling, Mortimer, that our troubles are almost over. I hope so, sir. If Mrs. Endorbin doesn't cook your goose, sir. Cook my, uh... Mortimer. Forgive me, sir. If Mrs. Endorbin is not the cause of an altercation, sir. It's better, Mortimer. Thank you, sir. No, I think Horace's day is waning and Mariana's reign begins. I shall tell her so this evening. She can't be entirely insensible to my regard. To my love. It's strange to say, Mortimer, I begin to think I do love Mariana. Sir, yes, I believe I do. And I think I love her madly. Yes, yes, I do. I love madly. Everyone is laughing at the prince behind his back. To take a cast off for his lady. He'll wake up to it soon, and when he does, they'll be over. Very, very fine. Mariana Vincent. They say she's a cloth merchant's daughter. A cloth merchant? Well, she'll keep O'Brummel in waistcoats anyhow. Yes. Yes, of course. There he is, O'Brummel. By the garden door with the prince and the playwright Sheridan. The prince knew what was going on under his nose. He'd give Sheridan enough for a new play. Make very much difference. What were you saying, Sheridan? I didn't hear you. I was saying, Your Highness, that there seems to be a lament of a lack of scandal and gossip these days. I really don't know what we're coming to, Your Highness. Quite true, true, Sheridan. The ladies have absolutely nothing to talk about, eh, Bo? Yes, Your Highness. Oh, Sherry, I hear the school for scandal is to be revived. It returns to us every year like spring and the influenza. Yes. But it won't be played as it used to be. No, I hope not. My dear Bo, good. As a matter of fact, I'm now writing a new play. Don't put me in, Sherry. Or if you do, mind you make me thin. A fat man played me in the pantomime till the night and I had him locked up. It was a libel, sir. A gross libel. Your Highness, oh, my dear Bo... Good evening, manly. You wish to see me, manly? I did. My dear Bo, something terrible is happening. Well? It is a fact he has cards up his sleeve. What shall I do? Cheating at the card table? Yes, he has cards up his sleeve. Cards up his sleeve? Yes. What shall I do? Well, if he has cards up his sleeve, bet on him. Oh, thank you. Oh, good, Bo. Very good. I must remember that. Oh, ah, I promised the next dance to Mrs. St. Oven. I really must go. You're... pardon, Bo. Of course, Your Highness. I have an engagement with myself. I've been waiting to find you alone. I saw you come out in the garden. Yes. May I sit down? Of course. Mariana, I'd like to speak with you seriously. To what surface, sir? Or shall I guess again? To make a confession. You know it, perhaps. But I want to tell you myself. When I first asked for your hand, Mariana, I neglected to bring my heart. I admired you, yes. But I didn't love you then, not madly. You were right, you see. Diamonds were trumps. But my admiration deepened first into esteem, and then became more, much more. There is my confession, Mariana. I sought only your fortune first. Now I seek you. Mr. Brummer. Yet were you penniless. I wouldn't marry you. Oh. Because I wouldn't drag you down to share this miserable, uncertain lot of mine. That is the only reason. And it's a true one. I begin to believe in you. I remember no other word that you have spoken. May I kiss your hand? I think I'd rather you didn't. I believe you're right. Yes, I'm quite sure you are. Thank you. You have saved me from doing something very commonplace. You aren't angry. I believe it's exactly 15 years since I last lost my temper. But Mariana, I still await your answer. It's rather a new sensation for Brummer to be kept waiting. You'll wait no longer then. Not in this house. Your Highness. So this is how you use my hospitality, Brummer, to further your financial affairs with a miserable cloth merchant's daughter. Oh. Don't distress yourself, Mariana. It's nothing. But his Highness has been dancing with Mrs. St. Auburn. And what have I had? You are not angry, my lord, because Miss Vincent's father is wealthy. It is something far deeper, I think. Something you've discovered about your certain attraction to Mrs. St. Auburn. Curse your impudence. Softly, my dear Prince, so you'll make a fool of yourself. I'm tired of your impertinent, Brummer. You're out of favor. Do you hear? But I help but hear. My dear Prince, first you lose your equilibrium and now you lose your temper. Have a little snuff. You may keep your little snuff. He knocked it out of his hands. You sit there. The Prince knocked it out of his hands. Very bad manners. Very bad. I shall have to leave at once. Your Highness, order my carriage. Why, you upstart. I tell you, Mr. Brummer, sir, it's the talk of all London. Yes, my chocolate, please. What is the talk of all London? Your insult to the Prince, sir. Last night at the reception. Oh, yes, yes. Well, it's all over now. The Prince has probably forgotten it. I have. Your creditors happened, sir. It was our friendship with his Highness that saved us before, but this morning there were two bailiffs at the door, sir. Bailiffs? Disgusting. What did they want? They were sent by your creditors to arrest you, sir. Well, if they come again, you may reassure them, Mortimer. You may tell them I have an appointment this morning with his Highness. Oh, have you, sir? No. But I'll be riding through the park with Mr. Sheridan. We're sure to meet the Prince's carriage. We'll stop and talk. If he should cut you, sir. Then I shall cut him back. But he won't, Mortimer. Have no fear. There it is, the Prince's carriage. It's coming this way, Mortimer. Ah, yes, the Prince, dear fellow. He's stopping. Thomas, stop the carriage. Good morning, your Highness. Ah, good morning, Cherry. I'm delighted to see you. Thank you, your Highness. Out for a drive, Alan? Yes, Mr. Brommel and I were... It's a beautiful day for it. Beautiful. Well, good day. But your Highness, wait. Would you like to drive with me, Sheridan? Come along, then. Come along. Well, I... I... Why? Why, yes, your Highness. Thank you. Oh, Sheridan. Yes, Bull. Tell me, Sheridan, who is your fat friend? Why you, Mr. Brommel? Drive on, please, Thomas. Mariana? Yes, Father? Mariana, you've heard the news? Yes. Mr. Brommel is a daring man. He cut the Prince. Cut him dead, Begad, and all for me. For you? Well, wasn't it? Bull Brommel is not the man to stand by and see his future father annoying Selted. No, no, Begad. He cut the Prince last night, and they came this morning, for me. I thought he did it partly on my account, Father. Well, yes, sir, for both of us. But it's you. You alone who can repay him. I? With the money your dowry will bring him. Oh. With that, he can pay off his creditors and defy the Prince. Without it, he's ruined. Ruined, Mariana? The bailiffs are at his door even now, and... Shall we go to him, Mariana? He needs his friends now, but he has left of them. And you owe him your gratitude. You owe him your sympathy. And they must take the place of affection? Yes, Mariana. You have no other attachments now. You've neither seen or heard anything of that young scoundrel Courtney for weeks. Or have you? No. Well then? Well, Mariana? You may order the carriage, Father. Thank you. Thank you, Mariana. That is why I've come, Mr. Brommel. Your regard and protection leave me much in your debt. Please, please, don't let that debt weigh any more heavily on you than do my debts on me. One smile of yours has overpaid me, Mariana. If your creditors were as easily satisfied as you are, I should be product of my smile. And if your smile's with a coinage, I think I should turn miser. You're not practical. I must make you so. I am your slave, and the chains I wear are no burden. May I indeed hope that you will accept my humble service. That you will be my wife. You have my gratitude and my respect. And may I hope you will learn to love me a little? I hope so. I'll make myself forget. Who is it? Uncle Bo. Reginald. That crowd of men at the door, what is it? Oh, you're staring, Reginald. That's very impolite. Miss Vincent, my nephew, Mr. Courtney. Your nephew? Miss Vincent and I have met, I think. Really? Why didn't you answer my letters? I received no letters from you. What? I wrote every day from Scotland. Reginald, you... I mean I begged your forgiveness, laid open my heart to you, and for all my pains received nothing. But I tell you, I had no word. My father must have held them from me. Oh, Reginald, I would have forgiven you. You know I would have forgiven you. You know I would. Mariana, then... One moment, please. I'm at a slight disadvantage here. Uncle Bo, this, this is Mariana. Yes, yes, I know. The girl I told you about, the girl I wanted to marry and still do. Reginald, don't. I begin to understand. You love her, Reginald? Yes. You love him, Mariana? Yes. Yes, I can see it in your eyes. Well, then, there's nothing to do, of course. But, uh... What? Take her, my boy. No, Reginald, you can't. It's too late. I've already promised you. But I release you from that promise. You mean that... Oh, I see. You see very little, Reginald. Oh, you can't do this. You know what it means. It means I will see two very young people very happy. Mr. Bramble, sir, Mr. Bramble. Yes, Mortimer. His Majesty's bailiff, sir. He's up at the door. They won't be held off any longer. Softly, Mortimer. Softly, always. Bailiff. Then they are going to... Nothing, my boy, a mere formality. Teaches but necessary. No, I'll speak to my father. He'll help you. I have no claim, whatever, on Mr. Vincent. Now Reginald will take her. Wear her very near your heart, for my sake. I would stay with you longer, but I fear it's impossible. I happen to have a rather pressing engagement with His Majesty. The pause for station identification. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. Robert Montgomery and Madge Evans resume our play shortly. My association with a woman from whom we now hear goes back some 20 years when the clock gable and Robert Taylor of the day was her late husband, Wallace Reed. I'd seen Wally playing the blacksmith in the birth of a nation and lost no time placing him under contract. It was then I first met our guest, Wally's wife, known professionally as Dorothy Davenport, one of the screen's important actresses and often his leading lady. Now an associate producer, she's one of the handful of women in Hollywood occupying a position of such responsibility. Mrs. Reed has just returned from two months in the Samoan Islands where she took a production unit for Monogram's new picture, Paradise Isle. Thank you, CD. And there, incidentally, I ran into a situation that I think should interest listeners of the Lux Radio Theater. Before I left for Samoa, I was advised to add soap to my stock of trinket chewing gum and whatnot, but the natives went for it in a big way. So having been lux conscious for many years, naturally, that was the soap I took in large quantities, expecting to make an especially good impression with it. To my surprise, the natives accepted my sweetly scented gifts most casually, but I soon learned why. Lux is always in stock at the Navy Commissary in Samoa and available at the local stores. So you see Lux toilet soap, no novelty, even in the South Seas. The natives are accustomed to its use as we are here in Hollywood. What sort of motion picture actors did the natives make? No excellent ones, but they're apt pupils at anything. The entire population of the village, in fact, we chose it as a base, about 150 strong, appointed themselves assistants and were very proud, serious, and efficient about their work. Our only real difficulty arose when we imported dancers from another village. They flatly refused to share honors, so close shop it was. But really, the Samoans are charming people. They're happy, generous, and most hospitable. Much too hospitable. What do you mean by too hospitable? Well, they continually had fees in our honor and as the unforgivable offences refusing their hospitality, they spent many hours sitting cross-legged on hard floors trying to toy convincingly with their most special delicacies. No feast there is complete without a pig, served definitely on the rare side. And their poi is really something, sort of a saturate solution of squashed white bananas and coconut milk. Apparently, I got away with it, for I was duly and solemnly anointed chief diss of the village. A very moist occasion of the elements outdid Samoans at Morn. For hours, I sat responding via interpreter, of course, to flights of oratory while rain poured down my back and coconut oil down my face. They must have recognized your executive ability, just as we have in the picture business. But, Dorothy, can you tell us why there are so few women producers in films? Mainly, I believe, because, well, men have an instinctive and innate resentment against taking orders from women. After all, it's a natural reaction for women have been on the receiving ends and civilization began. Personally, my experience with men in business has always been pleasant, and I believe any woman can work successfully with men if she'll try to meet them on their own ground and get their slant on things. And business women learn to appeal to men's logic and instead of leaning on their chivalry, they get along a lot better. It seems like a very good cue for me to get along. Thanks, CB, and as we say in Samoa, till far. Till far to you, Dorothy. Once more, the story of Beau Brummel starring Robert Montgomery and Madge Evans. With the passing of the years, passes the reign of Beau Brummel. His friends have gone with his funds and his elegance with his friends. In a poorly furnished lodging house in France, he makes a vain pretence at appearances, trying desperately to retain an outward show of his former glory. But his hair is gray, and his clothes long out of fashion show the wear of years. Mortimer, still faithful, stands beside him in the uncarpeted room. Well, Mortimer? No letters this morning, sir. Not even one? Not even one, sir. Unless we count the bill. Hardly. Will you have your chocolate now, sir? It's all we have, but it's something. And you've written nothing for days, sir. I'm not hungry, Mortimer. Oh, but, sir... I said I am not hungry. Could you make no further loan? No more, sir. I tried everywhere. No one will trust us anymore. Mortimer, Mortimer, what will become of us? Think what the finest gentleman of his time is undergoing. It's enough to drive one mad. Have you nothing more you could sell, sir? My last enough box. You would not have me dispose of that, Mortimer. Paltry trifled, it would bring nothing. No, there's nothing, Mortimer. Everything belongs to that wretched female creature who dignifies this hovel with the name of lodging. If only you would permit me to write to Mr. Vincent, sir. No. I told you that neither Marianne nor Reginald must know. They're married. They're happy. Let them forget. Then the Prince... He's now in France, I hear. The Prince is king. Have you forgotten? No, Mortimer. It's bad enough I've come to this level without having people know of it. We shall write to no one. Yes, sir. Ah, good morning. Good morning. Mortimer, it's our hostess, the landlady. Or for her chair. I want no chair. Your Mortimer had better offer me some rent money or out you go. I've warned you, Mr. Brummel. Your chair, madam. I'll stand. Then sit in it yourself, Mortimer. I cannot permit you to stand. You're tired. I'm so sorry, my dear madam, that I have nothing to offer you. The supplies for which Mortimer went out a short time ago have not yet arrived. Well, when they do, they'll not pass my door. I'll tell you that. Do, my dear madam, do help yourself. And speaking of helping yourself reminds me, would you mind returning some of my shirts? I'm sure you cannot wear them yourself. Mortimer? Yes, sir. How many were there in the wash last week? Twelve, sir. Yes, and now if you wouldn't mind returning... I'll do nothing of the sort. I'm sick of your fine manners. I want more of the money and less of the politeness. You mean, my dear madam, you want more of the politeness and less of the money. You pay me today or out into the street you go. Your polite talk may do good there. It may do for the stone, but it will not do for the flesh, not for this flesh. Pauper. Mortimer. Yes, sir. What did she call me? Pauper, sir. Pauper? She's right. And that's what hurts. Mortimer. Yes, sir. My snuff box, please. There's no snuff in it, sir. My snuff box, please. And my brown coat. I'm going out for a walk. Well, what's it worth? What will you give for it? Snuff boxes are a drug on the market these days. I have 30 of them in my shop now. This one is rather special, of course. They are all of silver? It was given to me by the Prince. Now, George IV of England, I dare say that doubles or even triples its value. Monsieur, the donor is no concern of mine. I look only at the silver. This one is good in that respect. Therefore, I can offer you a hundred fangs. One hundred? Let me have that snuff box, please. There's worth no more. Let me have it. Well, if you wish. I am in business, Monsieur. I have to eat. Fortunately, sir, I do not. Good day, sir. Good day. Well, sir, any luck, sir? Here. You may carry this home again, Mortimer. He wouldn't buy it, sir. I would not sell it. A portrait, a hundred francs. A hundred francs, I... Mr. Bronner, sir, are you willing? Take my arm, sir. Lean on me. On the street, Mortimer. No, no, not on the street. Your pale, sir. Your arm is trembling. Stand away, please. I can walk. Alone? I... I... Mr. Bronner, sir, help here. Help, he's fainted. Well, doctor. Is he any better, doctor? Very little. He's conscious now, but a little delirious, I think. Does he always ramble on that way about courts and ladies and passions? At times, yes, sir. He thinks he still... He was once a great gentleman, sir. Pity. There's nothing much more I can do for him. You mean that... You mean, sir? Yes. I'm sorry. Very sorry. Thank you, sir. If you want me again, don't hesitate to call. Thank you. Mortimer. Coming, sir. Coming. At once, Mr. Bronner, sir. Yes, sir. Mortimer. That man... That man who's here just now. Mr. Sheridan. Yes, it was, sir. Yes, I thought so. Mortimer. Mortimer, I hear carriage wheels. Someone else is arriving. Carriage wheels? Certainly, Mortimer. How do I look? Very...very well, sir. Am I quite correct, Mortimer? Are there creases in my cravat? I should not wish to make creases the fashion. Mr. Bronner, sir, you're quite the fashion. Do your post, then, and ask the musicians to play. Please, sir, please. There are no... Mortimer. Is that someone at the door? Yes, sir. Then open it, man. Open it. Yes, sir. Excuse me, sir. Mortimer. Oh, Mr. Mariana. Where is he, Mortimer? Mr. Reginald, I'm so glad you could come. It came as soon as we had your letter. Is he still so ill, Mortimer? Very ill, sir. Very ill. Why didn't he tell us? Why didn't you let us know sooner? He wouldn't permit it, Mr. Mariana. He's pride. Take us to him. Yes, sir. But if he acts strangely, sir, please, to pay no attention. He's not himself, sir. Good evening. Mr. Brummel, you shouldn't be up, sir. Not up? Not up when I have guests to receive? But who is this? Mr. Brummel. Uncle Bo. Reginald. Mariana. Well, sit down. Sit down. Some wine, Mortimer. We must celebrate with wine. Wine, sir. Oh, I... I don't wish any. Not I, Mortimer. Thank you, sir. Oh? Never mind, then. Mariana, let me look at you. I've never forgotten you, Mariana. Never. I've never forgotten you. Or how kind you were. Even in all the rush of my life. And I have been busy entertaining, you know. I've always remembered your pretty little face, my dear. And your laugh. Mr. Brummel, sir. Will you sit down here, sir? Thank you. Thank you. Sit down, Reginald. You must be tired after walking up all those steps. It... it is high, sir. Yes, yes, yes, but the air is so much purer. I'm expecting guests, Reginald. Mortimer, two more for dinner? Yes, Mr. Brummel. Mr. Brummel, you... you must come away from here back to England with us. Come away? But my engagements, my dear, my engagements, I... has that bell again? No, don't go. You won't leave me, Mariana. You won't leave me, will you? No. We'll stay just as long as you like. The door? Yes, sir. Your Majesty. Mr. Brummel, please. Who is it, Mortimer? Mr. Brummel, sir. It's His Majesty, the King. Good evening, Bo. Your Majesty. Is it... is it real? Yes, Bo. You must pardon me for not rising. I'm forgetting my manners. Stay seated, Bo. You've hidden from us long enough. If your servant hadn't sent the snuff box to me, I should never have known where you were. Snuff box? Oh, yes. I told you to send it to His Majesty, Mortimer. Why... why... yes, sir. Of course, I remember now. My dear, Bo, we don't mean to lose you again. We stop with you tonight, and tomorrow you dine with us in London. Dine? Dine? At what hour? At eight, Your Majesty, at eight. Yes. At eight o'clock, Bo. Eight? Mortimer, have I any other engagement? No, oh, no, sir. Then I shall have much pleasure, Your Majesty. Mortimer? Yes, sir. Mortimer? Yes, sir. Should anyone call? Say I have a rather pressing engagement with... with His Majesty. Bo. Bo! His engagement, sir. With a Majesty even higher than you, sir. And so do we conclude our play, and bring you as themselves our Bo and Belle, Robert Montgomery and Madge Evans. I'm grateful, Mr. DeMille, for the chance you gave me tonight to enact the story of one of society's most colorful characters. Old Brummel brought to a sort of climax a taste for fashion that gentlemen had cultivated for centuries, sometimes the most peculiar taste. Back in Queen Elizabeth's time, for instance, it was the gentlemen who wore corsets, even Sir Walter Raleigh. And not long after, earrings and spangled gutters decorated the nobility. Pirates, too, were the peregrine evaporate decking themselves out in new-tracked velvet and maline laces. Then I don't think women should... men should say a word about women today who spend a lot of time trying to make themselves look nice. No, I agree, Madge. The danger for a woman is spending too little time on our appearance rather than too much. And that's just as true about complexions as about clothes. Those of us in pictures realize probably better than most people the importance of clear, smooth skin. I'm sure that's the reason for the popularity of luxe toilet soap in Hollywood. We use it because we're just as fussy about complexions as Bo Brummel was about the cut of his waistcoat. It's been my favorite for a good long time. But Bob, what do you have to say for yourself? What are you going back east to plant a few potatoes on that farm of yours? It'll have to be four potatoes, Madge, because I doubt if I'll get away until September. I'll get a drill to the people back there to have you as a neighbor. I sort of doubt that, and I can prove it. One night last year, just before I was about to return to Hollywood, I drove over to say goodbye to my nearest neighbor a couple of miles away. It was after nine o'clock, so he had to get out of bed and come down on the porch where I was waiting. I've known that man for several years. He's a great friend of mine and the best farmer I know. Well, we talked crops for a few minutes, then shook hands and said goodbye. I could tell he had something on his mind, but he looked way down to the gate before he called me back. I stepped up on the porch again. He looked all around to make sure that no one was eavesdropping, and then he said, I see, Mr. Montgomery, hey, you're an actor. I don't know what you answered, Bob. But if he's listening in tonight, he's learned that you're one of the best. And to you, Madge, and to you, Bob, our thanks for our first fine performance. Thank you. Thank you, Robert Montgomery and Madge Evans. This is your announcer, ladies and gentlemen, Melville Ruick. Mr. DeMille returns to the microphone in just a moment. Our cast tonight included Ralph Kellard as Richard Brinsley Sheridan, Doris Lloyd as Kathleen, Lou Merrill as Broker, Wallace Roberts as Simpson, Frederick Sewell as Lord Manley, John Lake as the Doctor, and Lillian Castle as Landlady. John Montgomery and Miss Evans appeared through courtesy of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios. Mr. DeMille Paramount and Louis Silver's 20th Century Fox, where he's in charge of music for the new film, We Willy Winky. And now, our producer, Cecil B. DeMille. Every week, since October 1934, the play has been the thing in the Lux Radio Theatre. With the rise of the curtain each Monday evening, I've hoped that our labors of the week would bring you another hour of glamour and entertainment. In the Lux Radio Theatre, 28 men and women work every day of the week. Writers adapt for our stage, the plays, the plays that you want to hear, casting directors' comb lists of talent, securing the stars and supporting cast that will best fit the roles. Rehearsals are scheduled regularly. We work each week, not with the same cast or the same play, but with new people and new vehicles for every Monday night. In the past year alone, 1,072 parts have been enacted in the Lux Radio Theatre. 52 plays have been produced. The figures showing the number of listeners to our program during the year are truly amazing. Adding together the audiences of the last 52 weeks, check-up show that we have had over 600 million listeners. Of course, this huge number is accounted for by the fact that millions of our listeners tune in loyally week after week. We've enjoyed presenting this theatre this year of drama over the air tremendously. It's been a year of genuine pleasure to us, as we sincerely hope it has been for you. But frankly, ladies and gentlemen, the staff of our theatre is weary. Our sound effect man, always a master of understatement, said, I do get tired once in a while. Our sponsors being the kind of generous and cooperative people they are, readily agreed to a vacation period. So it has been decided that while so many of our audience are vacationing, we in the Lux Radio Theatre too will have a holiday. Therefore, when the curtain rings down tonight, those behind the scenes will lay down their stage braces and the script book will be closed for two months. Mr. Louis Silver, our musical conductor, will put aside his baton and go as fast as he can to a favorite spot in Mexico. Our technicians, directors and writers will all seek a change of scene. Personally, I'll remain in Hollywood, but I'm about to begin the filming of my new picture, The Buccaneer. So I hope for a little time at the ranch. Early in August, we all expect to be back in Hollywood making preparations for the new season. Already there are piles of manuscripts and lists of names, many of which we hope to put in lights on the marquee of the Lux Radio Theatre beginning September 13th. There are people in Hollywood you want to hear. There are plays you want presented. I also know you'll join me in saying goodbye and good luck to all who've worked with me here in the Lux Radio Theatre this season. I don't ask you to think of us during the summer, but I'd like to suggest that in September you be prepared to hear from us again. On the 13th of September, the lights of the Lux Radio Theatre will flash on. Our curtain will rise on a new season and we'll be at work with renewed vigor and purpose. At the most pleasant task I know, producing entertainment for you. This is Cecil B. DeMille wishing you a happy summer and saying good night to you from Hollywood. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.