 The cavalcade of America, sponsored by the DuPont Company, makes us a better thing for better living through chemistry. Starring Basil Rathbone. Good evening. Last week, the first volume of the series called The Papers of Thomas Jefferson was published by the Princeton University Press. This collection of press-less Jefferson documents will reveal the deepest beliefs and hopes of the man who, more than any other figure in his time, epitomized the American dream of freedom and self-government. Its editor, Julian Boyd, was our consultant for tonight's cavalcade. A story about Thomas Jefferson. A story that might have happened to any one of us. The time is now. The place, a winding state road outside Charlottesville in Virginia. Mr. and Mrs. Jones of Main Street Middle City, USA are on their way to visit Monticello, the historic home of Thomas Jefferson. Now, a national shrine. They are motoring, of course. Yes, I do wish you'd drive more slowly, these curbs. Yes, yes, yes, I know, but we're late. Garage fellas at the place closes at five. Well, we should have left Williamsburg much earlier. I do believe there's a storm coming out. Well, that's... The storm's almost here, all right. Well, seems to be it. Finally. Uh-oh. Here comes the rain. I never saw it get dark so quickly. What do we do? Well, we gotta see if we can get into the main house up yonder. Come on, Pat, hurry. Beginning to cut loose. I'll try the door. No use, she's locked. We'll get drenched. Jeff, let's go on back to the car. No, just a second, Pat. He's a bell of some sort. He might as well give it a try. Looks like you'd turn it. Lordy, that was close. I hope somebody... Come in. Do come in. Oh, thank you. Come along, Pat. Yes. Well, this is an unexpected pleasure. Are you quite all right? Oh, yes, just a little wet and spot, sir. I guess being late, we were lucky to find you in, Mr... Mr. Burges. I'm the curator here. I often linger a while after the visitors have gone. Of course. Of course it's quite against the rule, but I could hardly turn away a guest in such a storm, not at Monticello. I'd be delighted to show you around while the storm wears itself out in these hills. But it's so dark. The electrical fluid has failed, I'm afraid. But I believe I know where candles are stored. If you'll just wait a moment. I think you'll find a clock over the door rather interesting. Patricia, I don't like this. Something strange about that man. Oh, nonsense. Jeffy seems to be most obliged. After all, we're intruders here. After all, we're small. Well, I know, I know, but just the same. Oh, well, I suppose we may as well enjoy ourselves. Sure. Look, I remember reading about this big clock shown by these cannonball weights on either side of the room. You see? Hmm. Rathery. Oh, you frightened me. Oh, I'm so sorry. Now, if you would each take a candle. Yes, of course. Uh, Mr. Burgess, tell me, did Mr. Jefferson build that clock himself? No, no, he designed it. A Swiss clockmaker built it. It has recently been... What's that word? Oh, it restored? Oh, yes. Well, I'm sure it's very clever, but it's sort of overpowering. I don't believe I'd want to have a cannonball clock in my living room. I sometimes thought that Mrs. Jefferson was a... must have been secretly, if your opinion, ma'am. I wonder what Mrs. Jefferson was like. She was very beautiful. Very beautiful, ma'am, with urban hair and haze lies. Gentle, she wasn't kind and most sweetly humorous, having a gauged spirit upon which all remarked. Far too good for that stiff and bookish young man she married. Oh, so I've always thought. He courted her with music, which was his only grace when young. Did that happen here at Monticello, Mr. Bridge? The courtship, no, no, no, at her father's plantation. Let's see now. My, my... Time flyer. That must have been in the winter of 1771. Perhaps you can imagine the scene in candlelight, very like this. The tall, rangy, red-haired young man with a fiddle under his chin. Lovely Master Stelton at the heart she courted. He called her Patty, though, not Martha, and he was very much in love. I do believe we played it all the way through without a single mistake. Almost. I must confess to one wrong note myself. Oh, how perfectly dreadful. Hold out your hand and I shall wrap your knuckles. Give me your bow, sir. Here you are. Now your hand, if you please. I'm used to this, you know. I've struck a wrong note at the presence of a young lady. And did pretty Miss Burwell wrap your knuckles, Tom? No. She straightway married Jack Ambler instead of me. Thank heaven. How did you know about Rebecca? Everyone in Williamsburg knew at the time. Everyone in Williamsburg always knows everything. Did she hurt you, Tom? Well, I was very young and it seemed the world had quite tumbled down about my ears when I lost her. Tom? Yes, Patty? I'd never hurt you. I know you wouldn't. Not even in play with this bow. A way cruel bludgeon. After all, what's one wrong note among so many? Well, should we try again? Not just yet. If you don't mind, Patty, I'd like to... There's something I must say. Yes, Tom? I have it all written out as I like to do. I even thought to read it aloud to you, but then, well, that seemed to be a... A wrong note, Tom? Yes. And so... Well, Patty, all the words come down to this. I love you. Will you marry me? Oh, Tom, even if you had written it out, even if you had read your declaration to me as if I were the house of Burgesses, my answer would still have been, yes. You see, I love you, Tom. Oh, there's no thinking about it. I love you. You know, it's strange. With me as well, there's no thinking, not this time. It's real, like... like music. It has ever been so since first we met. Shall we try Master Johnson's song again? Oh, surely, my dear. And will you... Will you sing it for me this time? With all my heart, Tom. With all my love. And so they were married on New Year's Day in 1772, with a pair of preachers at five pounds each, and a fine deal of fiddle music Now, if you'll just come with me through these two glass doors into the cellar, you'll notice that when I open one door to us, the other door opens as well, automatically. Well, I declare, did Mr Jefferson invent that too? Oh, yes, yes. He was often well in advance at his time. Now, if you'll just look through the windows here, you can see what the guides call his honeymoon cottage. Well, Mr Jefferson, I'm afraid, would have shuddered at the phrase. Yes. The rain has lit up a little. You can see it. The small square brick structure yonder. Now, it is smaller. Yes, yes, indeed. It seemed even smaller at the time, but rather... Yes, yes. Snug, I expect. Now, if you'll just come this way after you've had it. This is Mr Jefferson's bedroom and library. Oh, lovely. The bed set in the wall between could be lifted upon pulleys and concealed behind the upper hangings there. Oh, my goodness. Mr Jefferson must have been almost as fond of gadgets as my husband here. Well, you see, he loves this house. And during all his days, he kept on adding little improvements. If you were to seek out at Monticello a symbol of his career, it might well be this, this little portable writing box. It's a replica of the one upon which Mr Jefferson wrote the Declaration of Independence. My heavens on that little thing? You know, somehow, sir, it's hard to imagine a declaration actually being written out. It seems as though it must have, well, just happened, like the Ten Commandments on Mount San Diego. Well, so hardly. Great deal of effort on the part of a 33-year-old Virginian went into that, into every word of it. Yes, I can imagine it quite easily. The young man's mother had died only a few weeks before, and he was suffering from a natural depression and from migraine headaches. The call of duty, however, he journeyed to Philadelphia, there to take rooms in the home of a bricklayer, once Mr Klass. Yes, the parlor and the bedroom was staircase between the two it was. His violin, like his writing box, went with him everywhere. On an evening in late June, the year being 1776. I beg your pardon, Mr Jefferson. Yes, Bob, what is it? A visitor, sir. It looked like an old Dr Franklin. Show him up, I all mean. Help him up the stairs, Bob. Yes, sir. Coming, Jefferson, then. Coming! As best I can. No, boy, I can make it by myself. This is a great pleasure, doctor. I take it the jog out has improved. Somewhat, if one can discover degrees in absolute misery, at least I'm able to hobble about again. And you're my great, sir. Much better, thank you, doctor. Good. Won't you take a chair? Oh, that's better. If I'm fair, we make each bedeviled at an opposite end of the anatomy. Well, sir, I can stay but a moment. I'm on my way home from Benfield out Bristol Way and I thought I'd see how your work might be progressing. It's almost done, sir. The charges against the king are drawn up, as we agreed. But I'm having difficulty with the opening paragraphs. One sentence in particular. Oh, would you read me what you have? The doubtful portion? Certainly, doctor. This passage, just to see. Here. Here. Now, this is giving me trouble. We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with inherent and inalienable rights. That among these are life, liberty, and property, such, etc., as before. What is your difficulty, Jeff? Well, the word property, property doesn't seem just right, doctor. I'd so like to find a more inspiring way of expressing the same idea. Yeah. Life, liberty, and happiness, perhaps. Yes, I thought of that. But can happiness itself be set down as a God-given natural right? Scarcely. No. Not when nature's God afflicts us with gout and migraine. Oh. Jeff, if you'll pardon an old man's pessimism, perhaps you're struggling in vain for words. Whatever you set down, the Congress will surely change it in the end. Still I've been set the task, and I intend to construct as best I can an exact impression of the American mind in these troubled times. And I'd be the last to discourage such a brave attempt. I merely point out that some free-score minds, most of them belonging to lawyers, not poets, will edit your work in the Congress. Personally, I avoid, whenever I can, drafting papers to be reviewed by a public body. Ah, it's so thankless. I expect no thanks, doctor, nor praise. You'll get precious little of either, except perhaps from posterity in the event we escape being hanged. Oh, well, I must be going. You'll have the document ready in time for the meeting of our committee, I presume. I shall, doctor. Can I help you, sir? If you would. Yep. Oh, baby. I'm upright, at least. Surely, of all the impediments to the pursuit of felicity, a gouty, great toe is the most damnably vile. No, no, no, no. I can manage all right now. Good day to you, Mr Jefferson. Happy phrases to you. Good day, doctor. Good day. Pursuit of Felicity. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of Felicity. No. No, not at all. Pursuit of happiness. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I have it at last, Bob. Bob, you Bob. Yes, sir, Mr Jefferson. Bob. Mr. Libes. We hold these truths to be self-evident. That all men are created equal. That they are endowed by their creator with inherent and inalienable rights. But among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights is government. Of course, Mrs Jones, no one today can be sure why Mr Jefferson wrote what he did. What I've told you is it best, well, an informed guess. Mr Jones, you there? Oh, yes, yes. Right here, sir. I was just looking at the portrait of Mr Jefferson yonder. Oh, indeed, yes. And you notice the curious resemblance to me? Yes, many visitors have done so. I believe there may be some, well, some distant family connection. Well... Well, the storm has renewed its fury, hasn't it? You are listening to Basil Rathbone as Mr Burgess on the Cavalcade of America, sponsored by the DuPont Company, makers of better things for better living through chemistry. Among DuPont's better things for better living are nylon bristles for paintbrushes. A good paint job requires a good paintbrush. That's why 18 leading paintbrush manufacturers are offering these DuPont nylon brushes. People tell us they're easy to use. They lay paint on smoothly. They're easy to clean, and they last longer. You can use them in nearly all kinds of finishes, and nylon bristles won't break off. Your local paint or hardware store should have these fine new paintbrushes for household use in various shapes and sizes. Each brush with bristles of nylon. One of the DuPont Company's better things for better living through chemistry. Our DuPont story continues as we return to the Monticello, the home of Thomas Jefferson. While a summer storm rages in the evening outside, Mr. and Mrs. Jones of Main Street, USA are being shown through the mansion by a gentleman known to them as Mr. Birch. I think you will find this portrait more interesting than the other, Mr. Jones, certainly more handsome. This is Mr. Jefferson's daughter, Martha, of Patsy, as she was called. The painting is by Sully. How beautiful she was. So lively-looking. Yes, like her mother. Very like her mother. After his wife died, Mr. Jefferson did not possibly have gone on, say, for this noble girl. I've read that Mr. Jefferson was much affected by the death of his wife. Four hours after that awful moment, sir, he lay insensible. For days he despaired of living. For weeks he remained secluded in his study under pacing, pacing, pacing back and forth in terrible grief. Then one October afternoon, with the autumn sunlight outside, challenging the black hopelessness in his heart. Yes, child? May I come in? Why, yes, Patsy, do come in, of course. I just cause that I was to ask, are you not feeling better, father? Why, yes, yes, I believe I am. And I was to tell you, dad needs to have the measles, but he's better now, too, since Jamie didn't get it from him, and Grisle has a new coat of feeling, father, since you, but this is correct. This needs exercise very badly, than all the stableboys have said. When are you going to come running with me again? I suppose you've been riding every day? Oh, yes, father. Unbearable air. And not studying at all? No, father, but the woods are so pretty now. And I've not heard you practicing the fortepiano, not once. But Aunty Christ said I was not to. Not after mother... after mother went away. There, there, there, child. Forgive me. My thoughts, I'm afraid, have been too firmly fastened upon myself alone. But we must see that your studies are resumed. Before your mother... That is, some time ago, I drew up a daily schedule I'd like to have you follow. It's in my desk, I believe. Yes, yes, here it is. Now, from eight to ten practice music. From ten to one, dance one day and draw another. From one to two, draw on the day you dance and write a letter the next. From three to four, read French. From four to five, exercise yourself in music. From five to a bedtime, read in English, write, et cetera, et cetera. Well, my dear, what do you think about a little list? My goodness, Father, you've left no room at all for the horses. So I haven't. So I haven't. Well, my dear, we shall certainly need to draw her up an amendment. Ha, ha, ha! The chair consents, and it is so ordered. The horses go in at the gallop. Ha, ha, ha! Father! Yes, that is. You're laughing at me. And so I was. You've helped me, child. You've helped me very much indeed. Oh, everyone's been so well. Yes, I dare say I've been making myself a problem to the entire household. No more of that. Patsy, I want you to run. Run, mind you? I want you to run until Jupiter to have the boys saddle, correcticus, and becher at once. We'll ride together this afternoon. And from now on, we'll always ride together, Patsy. Always, Father. Always and always. Sure, the clouds of sorrow began to be dispersed. Even as our own thunder clouds are scattering now over the Blue Ridge. Well, I do believe that he is clearing up. You've been most kind, Mr. Burgess. This house has ever borne a reputation for hospitality, ma'am. Let us, by all means, go outside now. A sunset at Monticello after a summer storm. That's a spectacle not to be missed. Oh, Mr. Jones. Oh, coming, sir. I was just looking at that big chair over there. It seems rather modern. The leather upholstery has been restored. But the design is another of Mr. Jefferson's little notions. It's the first revolving chair ever made, I believe. Yes, there's a dumb waiter, too, in the dining room. It's strange to me how our visitors are always so interested in these little... Now, what was that word you used, Mr. Jones? My wife. Oh, yes. A gadget. Yes, yes, yes, indeed. Mr. Jefferson, I believe, would have regarded another of his inventions, but the mold-bored plow is more important. My, he must have been a busy man. When in good health, ma'am, he never let the sun rise before him. Shall we go out on the terrace now? Storm is quite over. Yes, certainly, sir. There you see the reason for Monticello. Is it not magnificent? It's quite... It's really lovely. It's breathtaking, Mr. Jones. Yes. I sometimes think Mr. Jefferson loved his country so dearly because he could see so much of it from his own doorstep. Yes, but I can believe, sir, standing here. What advice do you suppose Mr. Jefferson would give his fellow countrymen now, in 1960? Well, now let me see. The earth, he'd say, belonged to the living. Make your own life. Or perhaps he'd say, if a nation expects to be ignorant and free, it expects what never was and never will be. Or he might quote from his first inaugural address and say, let us restore to social intercourse that affection without which liberty and even life itself are but really things. Draw closer together, he might say. Close your ranks and may that infinite power which rules the destinies of the universe lead your counsels to what is best and give them a favorable issue for your peace and prosperity. That was quite an experience. Yes, yes, it was. Did you notice how he called me Mr. Jones? I don't think we ever introduced ourselves. Can't recall, we did. Oh, we must have. Or maybe we just look like a couple of Joneses. Maybe that was it. Well, anyhow, Jones's car needs gas. But it was a garage on the way up. Ah, here it is. Okay, boy, fill her up. Okay, sir. I guess you folks was mighty disappointed. I told you, going up, there wouldn't be open after five. Oh, we got in all right. And what's that you say? You say you got in, sir? After five? For sure. Mr. Burgess, the curator was still there. Showed us all over the mansion. Mr. Burgess? Mm-hmm. I never heard telling no Mr. Burgess around here, sir. The curator at Monticello is a lady. Her name is Miss Kimball, Miss Mary Kimball. She's a lady, not no mister. She lives way over here on the Shack Mountain. But I tell you, we were in the Jefferson House five minutes ago. And there was a man there who showed us about. Mr. Burgess. And he knew so many things about Monticello. No, sir. Mm-hmm. Ain't never nobody in that big house at the 5 p.m. I guess you've all been seeing things. But that would be exactly 224. Thank you, sir. Our thanks to Basil Rathbone and the Cavalcade players for tonight's story. Now, here's Bill Hamilton speaking for the DuPont Company. We often tell you about DuPont Better Things for Better Living Through Chemistry, helping other businesses. Let me give you two or three down-to-earth examples. In 1935, two brothers by the name of Fox, who owned the Austin Packing Company of Baltimore, Maryland, started making peanut butter sandwiches, which they put around on local store counters for sale. They had a good product, and it pleased customers. But for the first three months, they needed only two people to make the sandwiches. And then they got the idea of packaging their product in DuPont, Philippines, and almost overnight, their sales tripled. Today, the Fox Brothers employ 64 people, with an indication of their success. Here's another example. Not many years ago, the Royal Cake Company of Winston-Salem, North Carolina employed only half a dozen girls to package all the 5-cent cakes it could sell. This alert company wrapped its cakes in DuPont cellophane, making it possible to ship them farther. And as a result, they increased sales. Today, Royal Cake employs more than 100 people. And from California comes the example of a candy company, Market Confection of Los Angeles, California, started in business selling candy wrapped in cellophane in 1947, employing three packers and two driver salesmen. Today, they have 29 packers and 12 drivers. Now, I'm not saying any product wrapped in DuPont cellophane automatically becomes a success. But experience has shown it to be true again and again that cellophane is of considerable help to the small business man. Today, the DuPont company supplies more than 50 different cellophane films to more than 6,000 firms, large and small. Cellophane has helped many of them to grow. Their success and their increasing use of cellophane in turn have helped DuPont to grow. This is only one part of the story of how cellophane came to America, how it's been developed, and how it has contributed to your better living and mine. The story is completely told for the first time in a 24-page illustrated booklet. You may have a copy of this booklet free of charge. Just write to the DuPont cavalcade, Wilmington Delaware. We'd like to send you this newly published booklet, The Story of Cellophane, one of DuPont's Better Things for Better Living Through Chemistry. Next week, the DuPont cavalcade presents the lovely young star of staging screen Barbara Belgedy's in a tender drama Vinnie and Mr. Lincoln. Be sure to listen. Tonight's original DuPont cavalcade was written by George H. Faulkner. Music was composed by Arden Cornwell and conducted by Donald Voorhees. The program was directed by John Voller. Ladies and gentlemen, there was a time when the veteran sacrifice meant security to you, but today the poppy you wear means security to him. So, buy a poppy. The DuPont cavalcade of America comes to you from the stage of the Belasco Theater in New York and is sponsored by the DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware. Makers of better things for better living through chemistry. Carmen Dragon and his orchestra bring you Starlight Concert on NBC.