 Hollywood, California, Monday, November 23rd. The Lux Radio Theatre presents Paul Muney in the story of Louis Pasteur with Fritz Leiber and Crawford Kent. Lux presents Hollywood. Our stars, Paul Muney, Fritz Leiber, Crawford Kent, and Barbara Luddy. Our guests, Adrian, Hollywood's most noted designer and William K. Howard director. Our producer, Cecil B. DeMille. Our conductor, Louis Silvers. The makers of Lux Flakes, together with our stars and guests, welcome you all to another hour in the Lux Radio Theatre. Here's a word to the ladies. Try Lux Flakes for washing dishes. Ordinary soaps often dry your skin, making it rough and red, and making the nails brittle. Lux Flakes contain no harmful alkali. They protect the natural oil in your skin, safeguard your manicure, and give your hands beauty care right in the dish pan. Lux Flakes are just as good for washing dishes as for washing fine fabrics, and that's saying a lot. And now it's time to hear from our producer. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Cecil B. DeMille. Greetings from Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen. Paul Muney is a paragon of paradoxes. Born in Vienna, he doesn't waltz. Trained in the Yiddish Art Theatre, he's been playing the role of a Chinese and the good earth for the past six months. At the age of 11, Mr. Muney went on the stage in the part of a bent and withered old man. The whiskers he wore were obviously false, but he grew his own beard for the story of Louis Pasteur, and here are some side lights on his sidelines. He plays the violin and talks to strangers for relaxation. He rehearses all his lines into a dictophone to study his own inflections. He experiments with makeup at home and obtains material for his characterization's first hand. In other words, if he's playing the part of a Chinese, he spends a great deal of his time in the Chinese quarter. And if he's to be a gangster on the screen, he mingles with the gangster element. And if he's a scientist, he reads everything available on the science he's supposed to represent. It's nearly two years since Mr. Muney's last appearance on the air. Then as tonight, he was heard from the Lux Radio Theatre and starred in his favorite stage play, Counselor at Law. Tonight, we hear him in his favorite screen play, The Story of Louis Pasteur. The part of Dr. Chabonet is played by the same distinguished performer who enacted it on the screen. Mr. Fritz Leiber, Crawford Kent, will be heard as Dr. Radice. Louis Silvers raises his baton to start the music as the Lux Radio Theatre presents the story of Louis Pasteur starring Paul Muney. Paris in the 1860s. We're in the laboratory of Louis Pasteur. The long sparsely furnished room is lined with deep shadows. Along the walls stand crates of guinea pigs and squeaking mice. And in the center, a crudely built table is littered with twisted test tubes and cauldrons. It's early evening. Under the garish light of an overhanging lamp, Pasteur leans over his microscope. His eyes glued to the black cylinder. His wife enters the room and stands for a moment watching him. Louis. Yes? Haven't you worked long enough? Aren't you tired? Tired? You've been here all day since early this morning. I know, I know. Uh, who? Yes? Uh, have you finished with those slides? In a moment, measure. Hurry them along. Louis, I brought the newspaper for you. The newspaper? What do I want with it? There's something in it you should know. Dr. Frederick is dead. Dead? He, he was killed, shot. Oh, did it? The husband of one of his patients. Listen. When asked by the magistrate why he had killed Dr. Frederick, the man shouted, he killed my wife with his dirty hands. He gave her fever, childbed fever. Then the prisoner produced a pamphlet which read, doctors, surgeons, wash your hands, boil your instruments, microbes cause disease. The pamphlet was signed. Louis Pasteur. Hmm, my pamphlet. Louis, don't you know what it means? They're blaming you for the death of Dr. Frederick. Nonsense. They are. Dr. Charbonnet, Dr. Reddice, all of them. They call you a murderer, a menace to science. And they are a menace to humanity. If they should appeal to the emperor. Let them. The emperor's no fool. Look at the facts, Marie. Three out of every ten mothers today die in childbirth. Why? Because our learned physicians are too pigheaded to realize that germs have the power to invade the bloodstream and cause disease. But Louis, you tell them to wash their hands, boil their instruments. Still, you can't be sure. You haven't found the germ. But I will. I will. Papa. Oh, what is it, Annette? A letter for Papa. A messenger bought in the carriage. There were two soldiers with him. Louis. Give me the letter. It's from the emperor. The emperor? Then it's just as I thought. Charbonnet and Reddice have gone to him. Quiet, my dear. It's not as you thought. Listen to this. At the request of the court chamberlain and the command of his Majesty Napoleon III, you are invited to a reception at the palace. Oh, Louis. A carriage will be sent for you at eight o'clock next Thursday. A reception at the palace? Louis, what an honor. It is my chance, Marie. Reddice, Charbonnet, Rossignol. They'll all be there. It is my chance at last. Your Majesty, this man pastor is not even a doctor. He's a mere chemist. I know Charbonnet, but his work interests the Empress. It was at her suggestion that I invited him tonight. Yes, Dr. Charbonnet. If I am not mistaken, pastor was instrumental in discovering the cause of fermentation of wine some years ago. Yes, Your Majesty. I recall it now. He claimed to have discovered little animals in it, infinitesimal beasts. And he still does, Sire. Only now he finds them everywhere. But are there such creatures? Do they really exist? Your Majesty, microscopic organisms have long been observed. Yes. They spring into being of their own accord, wherever there is putrid matter or fermentation. They are the result rather than the cause of disease. Oh, I see. By heating wine to certain temperature, monsieur pastor was able to destroy them. I presume he plans to cure blood poisoning in the same manner, namely, by boiling our blood. Heaven forbid. It's not unlikely, I assure you. Dr. Charbonnet, I'm afraid you exaggerate. I too have read pastor's pamphlet. It says nothing about boiling blood, merely to boil the instruments you surgeons use. Madame, if I did anything so absurd as to boil my instruments or scrub my hands, they'd think I was a witch doctor resorting to charms and laugh me out of the hospital. That would be a novelty, monsieur. Most people who go to hospitals are carried out, dead. Your Majesty. What is it? Sir, Louis Pasteur has arrived, your Majesty. Oh, yes. Show him to the east room and ask him to wait for me there. Yes, your Majesty. Charbonnet, find Dr. Rossignol and Dr. Radice and any others who might be interested. We'll see Pasteur together and discover for ourselves whether the man is a genius. Impossible. I refuse to believe it. One moment, Dr. Radice. Yes, I know. Pasteur, will you please tell us precisely what you mean? I will, sir. The hospitals of Paris are pest houses. They're scarcely a doctor in the city who's not carrying death on his hands and on his instruments. Because of microbes, monsieur? Your private menagerie of invisible beasts. Exactly. Dr. Charbonnet could see them for himself if he took the trouble to use his microscope. He could watch them multiply into murderous millions. They breed in filth. They may start from the gutters of Paris tonight and by tomorrow claim some mother from this very court. Preposterous to think that a human being could be destroyed by an animal 10,000 times smaller than a flea. It is though an army of ants should destroy your Majesty's empire. Listen, a young woman died here tonight. The wife of the coachman who brought me. She was your patient, Charbonnet, a victim of your bigotry. You dare? You accuse me? But that isn't the end. The woman who attended her, your nurse, will carry the infection to your necks. A more illustrious patient, the Countess, Gabrielle de Vilvo. Your Majesty. Stop. I've heard enough. You should know better, Pasteur. The Countess, Gabrielle, is her Majesty's sister. I regret, Sire, but death knows no rank. Silence. In the preservation of wine and beer, you have been of service to France. We appreciate it. In the future, you will confine your work to that field, or suffer my displeasure. That will be all. Your Majesty. That will be all, Pasteur. Good night, Your Majesty. Here, this boy, I'll ask you to say a thing like that again, Your Majesty. Carriage, please. Yes, Monsieur. Monsieur Pasteur. Yes? Permit me, please. I am Jean Martel, physician and surgeon, Doctor of Medicine from the Sorbonne. Secretary of Hygiene, member of the International Society of Doctors at Edinburgh. Personally, I'm convinced that there is some truth in what you say. You are my mate. Charbonnay's a fool. When it comes to anything new or the least bit... I beg your pardon. Aren't you Dr. Charbonnay's assistant wife? Yes, I suppose I am, but... It is your duty to respect him then. Not to ridicule him. I, Monsieur... Good night. Quick, Annette. Run and open the door for him. Ru, you will light the candles on the cake. Thirty-eight. Only thirty-eight, and all ready to have done so much for the world. She's coming. Open the door, Annette. What? Oh, oh, oh. Thank you. Thank you, Maddie. Louis. Yes? Is anything wrong? You'll have to pack, Marie. We're leaving Paris tomorrow. Tomorrow? Louis, what happened? I've stepped too hard on the toes of our doctors. I've insulted the Academy of Medicine. They forbid me to work on human diseases. We must leave here, Marie. Yes, Louis. When I was a boy, I used to read of scientists fleeing from the cities to avoid persecution. It thrilled me. I didn't realize what a nuisance it was. But, Monsieur, perhaps you might better apologize to the Academy. A few lines. Take back what we know is true. Never. I die first. Don't worry, Ru. Someday we're going to prove that we're right. To the Emperor, to the Academy, to the world. We will continue with a much radio theatre presentation of Louis Pasteur, starring Paul Muoney. But now we're going to the stock room of Columbia's wardrobe department on Gower Street. A seamstress is taking one of her new assistants through the department, showing how and where the dresses and coats are kept. Now, over here are Irene Dunn's dresses. These are the ones she wore in Theodora Goes Wild. We might as well take the pink one out. It's got to be washed before we make it over for another picture. Washed? Can you wash a dress like that? Oh, yes. They were 15 days making that particular scene. And I know that dress has been washed at least three times. Well, I didn't believe you could wash that kind of material. Oh, my, yes. It washes beautifully in lux flakes. Of course, we wouldn't risk it in anything else. You see, these clothes are worth a lot of money, and we can't take chances. They've made lux a rule here in the wardrobe department. You better keep that in mind, too. Always see that there's plenty of lux. Now, on this side over here... All the big Hollywood studios use lux flakes for washing fine fabrics, because they've discovered it's the sure, safe way to keep them looking like new. Lux contains no harmful alkali, and with lux, there's no harsh cake soap rubbing. Even the shearest materials that are safe in water alone, you can put into gentle lux suds with perfect assurance. Try it for all your precious washables. Your silks, rayons, woolens, and fine cottons, you will love the way they come out of lux, clean, fresh, and brand new looking. And once again, Mr. DeMille. Eight years have gone by, and while men fought and killed each other in the Franco-Pression War, pasture fought microbes, the real enemy of all mankind. The war is over now, and the government hard-pressed to meet the heavy indemnity imposed by pressure has turned its attention to rebuilding the ravaged countryside. A devastating plague, anthrax, is destroying the livestock of France, the government's chief source of revenue. In only one small province, the district of Arboire, is there any immunity to the dread disease. To that district are sent two representatives of the Academy of Medicine, Dr. Radice and Jean Martel. Their coach comes to an abrupt halt near a herd of sheep. Look at that herd, Dr. Radice. I seem to be healthy enough. Luck, that's all. Pure luck. These fields have become immune. Yes, but how? Why? Oh, my dear Martel, such questions are beyond the scope of science. When you ask me how or why, I will refer you to the theologians. Thanks. I'll ask at this farmhouse first. Well, Martel, don't waste your time. Asking questions is never a waste of time. Oh, but my dear fellow... At least the future of France. Our whole financial structure lies in the health of our livestock. If we're to meet our indemnity, we must have a source of income. Well, good morning, Monsieur. Oh, good morning. Good morning. I'm sorry to intrude upon you. I'm Dr. Jean Martel. This gentleman is Dr. Radice. We were sent here by President Hier to discover if possible why your sheep have escaped the plague. Well, you're quite welcome. My name is Annette. Annette Pasteur. I'm sure Father will be delighted to see you. Pasteur? Not Louis Pasteur, but that chemist. Yes, Monsieur. Will you come this way? Father's back in the shed, vaccinating the sheep. Vaccinating? Yes, Monsieur, against the anthraxicillus. The what? The microbe, Monsieur, the germ that causes anthrax. Do you hear that, Martel? The germ. What? Oh, yes, yes. You seem to be very well informed. Oh, thank you. I couldn't help but know something about it. Oh, Father, there's someone to see you. Oh, good morning, Monsieur. Dr. Martel and Dr. Radice. Dr. Gutt. Oh, yes. So, Monsieur Pasteur, you are now the savior of the sheep, eh? Very interesting. You remember Pasteur Martel? He's the man who was responsible for Dr. Frederick's death, remember? He was run out of Paris. Not quite, Doctor. Oh, don't deny it, you were. And you were warned not to practice. Positive will be bitten. What's that? That sheep doesn't seem to agree with you, Dr. Radice. A prophet is never without his followers, it seems. But rarely such intelligent ones. These animals know what's good for them. Perhaps you'll tell me what's good for them. I'd like to know too. Who? Yes, Monsieur. Come here. Will you try to explain to Dr. Radice just what we're doing? He's a member of the Academy of Medicine. So you'll have to use very simple language. Eh, we are convinced, Dr. Radice, after eight years of experimenting, that this vaccine, when injected into the animal, will set up an immunity. Ridiculous. It would take 80 years to convince me. 80? Aren't you a bit optimistic? Well, the simple truth of the matter is that your fields are immune. It's impossible for sheep to be stricken in this neighborhood. And when I make my report to the Agricultural Board, I'm going to advise that all healthy cattle be moved to this district. No, you can't do that. I tell you, these fields are rating with contagions. They'll die by the thousands. Oh, come along, Martell. Dr. Radice. Well, are you coming? No, I'm going to stay. Very well. Still disobeying your superiors, eh, Dr. Martell? What? I didn't think you remembered me. At the Palace. The night I told the Emperor, Contest de Vilfo would die. You were right. She did die. Charbonnet's never forgiven you. Hmm. Eh, it's a pity. I'm no longer an idle courtier, Monsieur. I work for the government. My job is to help the farmers of France. So, well, if you don't mind, I'd like to work with you, Monsieur. Annette. Come here, dear. Ask your mother if we have room for a guest. Oh, yes, I'm sure we have. Well, I mean, I'll see. Excuse me, Monsieur. Hmm? My daughter blushes a pretty color. She, she's a very pretty girl, Monsieur. Ah. Mm-hmm. So, uh, you want to render your country a real service? Is that it? Why, yes. Yes, I do. If you've discovered a vaccine against anthrax, it's my duty to make it known. You think the Academy would be interested? If you can convince me, Monsieur, I should be honored if you'd allow me to convince them. Thank you. Come along, Martell. The Academy has made anthrax as insurable and unpreventable. Order. Order, gentlemen, order. They continue, Dr. Martell. Thank you. Gentlemen, I have seen with my own eyes what Pasteur can do and has done for the cattle of Evoire. We, on the other hand, members of the Academy of Medicine, have contributed nothing in the fight against anthrax. Then in Heaven's name, why don't we listen to a man who has? I agree. If someone is going to cure for anthrax, I want to know about it. Will the visitors in the gallery please refrain from talking? Mr. Chairman, Dr. Reddice has the floor. Thank you. I have only one question to raise, and that is this. Whether Dr. Martell's purpose here is to further the cause of science or the cause of love. Personally, I'm inclined to the latter view. For having met Mr. Pasteur's amiable daughter, I can hardly blame our young colleague who wanted to become his son-in-law. That's a lie. I'm here because I think Pasteur is right. I know he's right. Mr. Chair. Mr. Chair recognizes Dr. Rossignol. What does he say? Dr. Rossignol. Friends, colleagues, in my laboratory, I have found that I can produce anthrax in healthy sheep by injecting into their veins the dark, poisonous blood of an animal already affected. This treatment invariably results in death. I should like, therefore, to propose an experiment that would rid us once and for all of this medical multibank Louis Pasteur. What's your plan, gentlemen? Let us take 50 normal healthy sheep, 25 of which will be vaccinated by Mr. Pasteur. The other 25 will remain as they are. I shall then infect all 50 sheep with anthrax by the method I have just explained. And I defy any man or any vaccine to save a one of them. Yes, Bravo. Well, he wouldn't dare. Mr. Chairman. Dr. Eshabarney. I agree with Dr. Rossignol's experiment. We all agree. And we dare, Dr. Martel or Louis Pasteur, to try it. We dare him. Mr. Eshabarney. I accept. Mr. Eshabarney. Are you Louis Pasteur? I am. I've enjoyed listening to your discussions from the gallery here. And I repeat, I accept your challenge, Dr. Eshabarney. The experiment has been carried out. 50 sheep, all of them infected with the deadly anthrax bacillus. Half of them vaccinated by Pasteur. Will Pasteur sheep live? Will the vaccine immunize them against anthrax? From all the world over come scientists to witness the experiment. They mingle with the peasants in the fields at Arbois. Suddenly a cry goes up. The unvaccinated sheep are dead. Then another cry which heralds the success of the experiment. Pasteur sheep are alive. They have resisted the disease. Anthrax has been conquered. Dr. Rossignol. Are you convinced? Alive. All of them. It's almost unbelievable. Monsieur. I offer my apologies. It's a triumph, Monsieur. Yes, and for you too, my boy. Congratulations. For me? I'm not wrong, am I, Annette? It was on. We're going to be married, Father. I thought so. The day he arrived, I thought so. Monsieur Pasteur. May I congratulate you, sir? I've come all the way from Edinburgh to watch this experiment. Ah. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, Monsieur. My name is Lister. Lister? Dr. Lister? I feel it a great honor to be present. The honor is mine, Monsieur. I'm well acquainted with the work you're doing on antiseptics. Thanks to you and your brilliant leadership. It's a dog. There's a mad dog, Luce. Uh, John. Take Annette to the carriage. A man has been bitten. Yes. Too late. Take him to the blacksmith. To have a red-hard eye and burn deep into his flesh. All the doctors in Europe couldn't do more for him. If he doesn't get rabies, even after the cauterization, he'll be very lucky. To die of rabies. And yet, there must be a way. A cure. There must be. Please sit still and eat your dinner. It's after eleven and you haven't had a bite to eat all day. But they're waiting for me in the laboratory. We're working, my dear. Let them wait. Look, I have a letter for you. It came by Special Post from England. From Dr. Lister? Let me see her. Not until you've eaten. Oh, but it's important, Marie. Very well. I'll read it to you. Dear sir, my observations lead me to believe that you are a scoundrel. What? I am told that in the year you've been in Paris, you've become a slave driver to your assistance. That you neglect your wife, abuse your family. Oh, come, come, come, Marie. This is no time to joke. Very well. I'll tell you what he really says. Your recent paper on the known sources of infection is admirable in every detail. Ah, a very clever man. Listen to this. Forgive the frankness with which a common love of science inspires me. I embrace you. My fellow workers in Brussels and Proud report that their hospitals are rapidly becoming safe. Mothers can go to them without fear. That's where our annex should be sent to have a baby. I must tell Jean. Listen, there's more. I do not hesitate to acclaim you the most valuable man yet to enter the field of science. Good, Lister. You see, Marie, now I must work and work and work. Louie, what was that? Nothing, Marie. Nothing. Down the laboratory. I heard it. What is it? What is it? It is... A dog, a mad dog. But it's all right, Marie. We have a mad dog down there. Please, Louie, please, not hydrophobia. Don't work on hydrophobia. I may as well tell you, Marie. I've been trying to discover a cure for months. I've pledged myself to wipe it from the face of the earth. Come in. Come in, gentlemen. Come in. Thank you. Thank you. I'm afraid I haven't enough fear. I'll find a little need for them in my laboratory. A monsieur? Yes, Dr. Charbonne. It is the wish of some of us that the Academy of Medicine honor you with this visit. Honor me? To be brief, Dr. Sarnath has been reading your recent statements in the journal promising a cure for rabies. The press takes liberties, doctor. As usual, my remarks were grossly exaggerated. In your last paper to the Academy, monsieur, you said you were on the threshold of a great discovery. Yes. Might I inquire if you have crossed that threshold? Science takes a step. Then another. Then it stops and reflects before taking a third. Go on, please. Step by step, monsieur, as I'm reaching the ultimate conclusion that microbes are the cause of all disease. If you may not feel skeptical. If germs are still a myth to you, then listen. In my hand, in this little test tube, I hold enough rabies virus to wipe out a city. May I see that test tube, monsieur? If you wish. Thank you. But be careful. Why? You have the tiniest scratch on your hand. A scratch? Suppose I make one on my arm with my pen knife. And suppose I rub this so-called virus into the open wound like this. Stop him! Stop him! We shall see where the germs cause disease. All I want now is to have you predict the hour of my death. There's Charbonnet now, sitting at the table. He seems to be enjoying his beer, too. Strange for a dead man, eh? Where's Charbonnet? How do you feel today? Very well, Dr. Radis, and you? It's over a month now. According to pastor, you should be in your grave. The more germs I've given, the better I feel. I've come to warn you about Charbonnet. You can't afford to be made ridiculous. The work you're doing is too important. I wish it were important. But it isn't. You seem so confident today we were here. I still am. Every animal that was vaccinated with the contents of that test tube died. Except Charbonnet. For some reason, he was able to resist the disease. Why? I don't know. Are you sure it was the same tube? Positive. It was the only specimen I had. You may have let it stand too long. You told me once that germs grow weaker, less virulent with age. Wait. It...it might be. Come into the laboratory. Oh, Martel. How old was that virus when Charbonnet rubbed it into his arm? 14 days. And when was it last used on a rabbit, Martel? About a week before, I believe. A week? Are you sure? Wait a minute, wait. Here's the record. Nine days to be exact. There's your answer, Rossignol. There it is. It must be. It's the only conceivable explanation. Well, do you think by allowing the virus to age that you were able to render it harmless? Not harmless, but weak. Weak enough for the system to overcome. Well, even if that's true, it won't help you any. When a man's bitten, he gets the germ full strength. Precisely. But suppose we start with a 14-day-old virus that's no longer deadly. Suppose we inject it into a healthy animal, and day by day, as nature builds up its resistance, we increase the doses with stronger, fresher samples until he's able to withstand the actual diseases we find in the world at large. Would he not then be immune? No, impossible. It would never work. If the first injection didn't kill him, the second would, or the third... Martel. Yes, Monsieur. Where are those two you've been preparing? Right here. They're all in order. Each one is dated. Here we are. 14 days. How many dogs have we left? Ten. Are they well, healthy? In perfect condition. They've never been exposed. Give them hydrophobia. Monsieur. What? Give them hydrophobia. 14 days. Injections every day are signalling. All of our dogs are alive and well. Yes, you've made them immune. Absolutely. And if it hadn't been for Charbonnet, we might never have discovered this treatment. Poor Charbonnet. Little does he know that he's been our favorite guinea pig. Yes, Marie. Will you come into the sitting room? There's a doctor to see you. A doctor? He brought a woman here and a little boy. I'd better go with you, Pasteur. Yes, yes. Come along. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. Yes, this is Dr. Rossignor. Good evening, doctor. Hey, Dr. Pfeiffer. I apologize for not giving notice, but we've come all the way from Alsace. This is Madame Meister. Her child is a patient of mine. My little boy. My little Joseph. Good evening, Joseph. Good evening, monsieur. The boy was bitten. I've done all I could, but that isn't very much. Surely developed hydrophobia. Oh, you didn't help him. They told us you could. Give me your hand, little fellow. Here, here. Don't be afraid. How long has it been? Eleven days. And you caught rise the wounds? Not right away. Must have been 24 hours. It's a long time to wait. Does that mean I'm going to die? Of course it doesn't. Little boys don't die. They have too much to live for. I know he won't live. I know him. The last year was our neighbor's child. It's our home. Hey, quiet. What does that have to do with yours? Save him. Save him. Marie. Marie. Put him to bed. Let's see that he's kept warm. Come, Joseph. You go upstairs, shall we? Thank you. Is there anything you can do, Monsieur? I don't know. I'm just experimenting. I have hopes, but... I don't know. You're quite sure the dog was rabid, Dr. Piper? Beyond a doubt. I made the test myself. The first symptoms shouldn't appear for at least two weeks. We might have time to produce an immunity. I'm sure I implore you with this. Please understand me. My treatment has saved dogs. Ten of them. But I haven't the faintest notion what effect it would have upon a human being. If I failed, it would mean prison. Perhaps... the guillotine. Since death is the only alternative for the boy, I'd be willing to try anything. Wouldn't you, Dr. Rosigno? No, I'm sorry. I can't agree. As much as I admire Pasteur's accomplishments, nevertheless, where human life is at stake, I'd hesitate a long while before going contrary to the best medical knowledge. Which, in the case of hadrophobias, to let the patient die? We do what we can. We administer drugs and sedatives. Is there a single cure on that? I'm not arguing for it. I'm merely pointing out what the accepted treatment happens to be. To embark upon a new course is always dangerous from a professional point of view, and would be doubly so for Monsieur Pasteur, who is not a doctor, and could expect no support from the medical profession. But in this... For his sake, therefore, I strongly advise that nothing irregular be attempted. Good morning, gentlemen. Monsieur Pasteur, you're not going to listen to him, are you? A dog is one thing, but a human life. I don't know. Well, if you change your mind, don't hesitate to call me. Where are you? I've been in to look at the boy. That syringe in your hand. What were you doing with it? Quiet, Marie. That boy was so young. So young to die. Someone had to help him. You didn't give him the treatment. You didn't, Louis. Yes, Marie. I did. You'll go to prison. They'll send you to prison. Not so loud. He'll need his sleep. We pause for station identification. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. Paul Muné resumes the story of Louis Pasteur shortly. In a few weeks, American audiences will see what is reported to be the finest picture ever made in Great Britain, called Fire Over England. Yet the ball of fire responsible for it is an American. William K. Howard of United Artists Studios, who was borrowed from Hollywood to direct it. It was just 10 years ago that I met Mr. Howard at Paramount. He joined me later at the Mill Productions and has since directed films at Fox, Metro, Goldwyn-Mayer and Paramount, turning out such hits as White Gold, Transatlantic, Rendezvous and Mary Burns Fugitive. It was Mr. Howard who directed Paul Muné's first picture, The Valiant. Ladies and gentlemen, William K. Howard. Thank you, Mr. DeMelt. Thank you. May I tell you how happy I am to meet you again and to appear on the same program with you and Mr. Muné. American, congratulations on the success of that brilliant picture, The Plainsman, yours. I had the pleasure of seeing last week. Thank you, Bill. Thank you. Nice to hear you're referring to my directing, Mr. Muné and The Valiant. That was an interesting experience because, well, Mr. Muné's first picture was almost his last. You see, the producers stopped production almost before it began. I'm sure that Paul recalled the first line he ever said in any motion picture. It was, I've just killed a man. The producers thought that this speech would kill the picture and kill Muné. But the picture went on and Paul Muné emerged, the great screen personality that he is today. Very interesting, Bill. But please tell us something about England. Is it true what they say about the tea over there? I knew that was coming, CB. And here's the answer. Tea is almost as important to British production as the film itself. It goes something like this. One stops production for tea at ten o'clock in the morning, then one stops production again for tea at four in the afternoon, and then one goes to the country for the weekend to rest up. But seriously, CB would be absurd for us to dismiss British film production as a factor in our business. They're enthusiastic, they're aggressive, they are determined. They've tasted success with such pictures of Henry VIII, the Scarlet Pimp and the Liars of Spy, 39 Steps, and they're going ahead in the hope of enjoying more of that success, which until now has been particularly ours. You sound to me like Paul Revere shouting, here come the British. Not at all, CB. I'm shouting, here come the Americans. If you could have been with me last summer in London, you would have seen Marlene Dietrich, Sylvia Sidney, Edward G. Robinson, Anne Harding, Henry Fonda, all making English films. I'm sure you'd have thought you were in your own studio. London films are using the best British talent they can secure and the best American talent they can buy. They're going ahead, and I assure you they are a factor to be reckoned with. Now, I was right, you are Paul Revere. You talk like a man who's taking the next boat back. Not the next boat, CB, but next summer, surely. You see, when I'm directing, I'm generally in a fog anyway. I want all the sunshine I can get, and you know those London winters. Good night, CB. Good night, Bill. Good night. Back to the story of Louis Pasteur starring Paul Muny. Three days have passed, and the little boy, Joseph, is still alive. Pasteur torn with anxiety, looks years older. His shoulders droop and his step-legs. He's also worried about his daughter, Annette. And as he enters the living room, he sinks exhausted into a chair. Any news, Annette? Her time is drawing very near, that's all. What does the doctor say? He hasn't been here today. I sent round for him. They said he was ill. Ill? We'll have to get someone else. When it comes to the use of antiseptics, it's difficult to find one you can trust. I'll speak to Dr. Bedal in the morning. Louis, how was the boy doing? The third injection made him sick. He has a fever. A fever? What are you going to do? Do. Give him a fourth, a fifth, a sixth. If he lives. Marie, I've been lucky all my life. Luckier than I deserve. But if I fail now... You're not going to fail. He'll recover. And when he does, we'll go away. We'll take a long vacation. Rue, Martel, all of them. They need it more than we do. How fine they've been. How patient. They'll never know how grateful I am. Then why don't you tell them? I will. I will. And you, Marie. You, most of all. What have I done to warrant such devotion? Do you remember what you said when you asked me to marry you? You said there's nothing in me to attract a young girl's fancy. But those who have known me very well have come to like me. Did I say that? Was I really that vain? And you knew better, too. You were looking in a mirror when you spoke. But I'm still... Yes, what is it, Cecile? Annette, madame. The coachman has just come from her house. She wants you. So soon? And Dr. LeCloch is ill, Louis. Go to the house. I'll find a doctor and meet you there. Hurry, Marie. Why doesn't he come? Why doesn't he come? He'll be here, madame. Don't worry. Did you boil the water, Cecile? Yes, madame. And there's sterile gods. Louis. Yes. Is she all right? Yes, the doctor, Louis. I have one. Come in, doctor. This is my wife. Marie. This is Dr. Charbonnet. Charbonnet? At your service, madame. But only because Dr. LeCloch is indisposed to bedal is a way on a vacation, eh, pastor? Well, I have to have someone. I'll go to Annette. Cecile will come with me. Yes, madame. Would you mind picking up that instrument, please? No, not at all. Thank you. Well, where's the patient? Wait. You're not going to use those instruments without boiling them. Certainly. I say no. My dear pastor, I'm doing this as a professional courtesy. Then do it my way, please. I'm a little tired of doing things your way. Today, 12 Russian peasants came to the hospital asking for your treatment for hydrophobia. What is that to do with... They said you sent them. I did. Dr. Charbonnet, my daughter is in that room. She's... there's not much time. But I am to do things your way. Please. Very well. One moment, pastor. What are you doing? I'm writing a statement for you concerning your work on the treatment of rabies. Dr. Charbonnet, this isn't the time. One moment, please. Shall I read it to you? Listen, I hereby acknowledge that my investigations into the cause of hydrophobia has proven fruitless and is of no value whatsoever. That's not true. If you will kindly sign that statement, I shall follow your instructions exactly. Well, give me the pen. Thank you, monsieur. If I live another month without developing hydrophobia, I shall feel justified to publish this note in the leading scientific journals of Europe. Take off your coat. Of course. Now, roll up your sleeves and wash your hands here. Wash them thoroughly to the elbows, to the elbows. What's in that basin? Don't worry. It's just a little chloride. It won't hurt you. There you are. Now, you'd better use the brush, too. The brush, the brush, the brush. Oh, very well. That's right. That's right. Cecil! Yes, monsieur? Take these instruments. Put them into boiling water and keep them there until Dr. Charbonnet asks for them. Yes, monsieur. There you are. Well, I think my hands are quite clean now. Now, there's a towel at your elbow. Thank you. Yes, sir. Are you ready? Except for my bag. Oh, here it is. Put it down. What? Put it down with your hands. You've spoiled it. You'll have to wash them again. See here, you're making a fool out of me. I've brought hundreds of babies into the world. Do as I say. This is ridiculous. Here. Thoroughly. Wash them thoroughly. Now, hold them up high. Touch nothing but the patient. Doctor. Yes, Marie. My daughter is ready now. Dr. Charbonnet. Are you asleep? We have a grandson. Do you hear? A grandson. Louie, wake up. Dr. Charbonnet, come here. What's the matter? My husband, eh? He doesn't answer me. Quiet, please. What is it, doctor? He's not... No. He's had a stroke. You see, Jean? He's opening his eyes. He'll be all right now. Marie. Yes, Louie. I'm here. My left side is paralyzed. Only slightly. It isn't serious. When did it happen? A few days ago. A few days? You were more tired than anything else. I have no fear of death, Marie. No fear. Oh, Jean. The master boy. How is he? He's doing splendidly. Thank God. Thank God. And the Russians. Were you able to help them? No, the hospital refused to allow our treatment without permission from the academy. Permission was granted this morning, but too late. Three of them died yesterday. Horribly. Let me up. I must go. Please. Let me up. How many are left? Nineteen. But it's no use. It's hopeless. If our efforts can save one, it will be worth it. Help me up, someone. Get me dressed. Order the carriage. I'm going to the hospital. Thank you. Patient number six, first treatment. Fourteen-day-old virus. Give it to him, Lou. Yes, monsieur. Patient number seven, fourth day. Any change? Not this morning. Continue treatment, eleven. Eleven-day-virus. Patient number eight. Monsieur Pasteur. Hmm? Oh, good morning, Dr. Chabonne. I've been watching your patients, monsieur. They're doing very well. Yes, indeed. Even better than I hoped. Uh, Chabonne, I didn't thank you for delivering my grandchild. You, you've been ill, monsieur. I'm sorry. Perhaps this note will speed your recovery. Note? The statement I ask you to sign. I'm giving it back to you. No. A bargain's a bargain. There is your note, monsieur. I was wrong. And now I ask you for one thing more. Yes? I want the Pasteur treatment for hydrophobia. How is Monsieur Pasteur today? Oh, I don't know, Jean. He's, he's so tired. Seems to have lost all interest. Did you tell him about the meeting at the academy tonight? No, no. But he won't go. He doesn't care very much about it. But they're expecting him. I know. Yes, I know. Tell him someone's going to refute his theories. He'll care about that. Perhaps. Where is he? In the living room with Joseph. I'd better see him. Joseph's mother's here to take him home. I'll wait at the academy. Louis, Madame Meister's waiting. One moment. Well, Joseph, you're going home. Yes, monsieur. Thank you. Come here. Can you write? Yes, sir. Would you like to write to me? Yes, very much. Then let me hear from you every month, won't you? Yes, monsieur. Now, don't forget. I'll be looking for your letter. Goodbye, Joseph. Goodbye, Madame Meister. Goodbye, dear. Well... I never thought he'd leave here alive, Louis. Thank God that he did. By the way, Louis, Rue just told me that a foreign scientist is giving a lecture at the academy this afternoon. He claims to have disproven your entire germ theory. Who is he? What's his name? I don't know. Disprove my theory? We've got to go. We'll see about that. Get your coat. We'll leave at once. At once. Come in, monsieur. You're just in time. They've arranged for you to sit on the platform. Courage, my dear. I'll be listening. This way, monsieur. Whom are they applauding? It's Dr. Lister from England. Lister? Lister to speak against me? Oh, here's the door leading to the platform. Now, your chair is over this way. Ooh, ooh, what... What is it? Well, it's you. They're applauding you. Right. I don't understand you, you said Lister. There's no one speaking against your theory. Oh, here he is now. Mr. Pasteur, I greet you in the name of humanity. Lister. Great Lister. Monsieur Pasteur, from His Majesty the Chair of Russia, the diamond cross of the Order of St. Anne, with our profoundest gratitude. Doctors and scientists of the future, do not let yourselves be tainted by a barren skepticism, nor discouraged by the sadness of certain hours that creep over nations. Do not become angry at your opponents for no scientific theory has ever been accepted without opposition. Live in a serene piece of libraries and laboratories. Say to yourselves first, what am I accomplishing? Until the time comes when you may have the immense happiness of thinking that you've contributed in some way to the welfare and progress of mankind. And so we end the last chapter of Louis Pasteur. Paul Muni, however, returns to us in a few moments. There sits a king in Hollywood whose scepter is a pencil and whose subjects are women the world over, his realm is fashion, and in this sphere, his name, like Abu Ben-Adams, leads all the rest. I refer to Adrian. A few years ago when I went to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, I brought three associates with me. Jason, now a Paramount director, Joel McCray, now a United Artists star, and Adrian. And there he's remained, dictating styles by designing clothes for such fashion paces as Greta Gabo, Joan Crawford, Jeanette MacDonald, Myrna Loy, and Norma Shearer. Ladies and gentlemen, Adrian. Thank you. The best advice I could possibly give any woman who wants to dress well is summed up in two simple words. Be yourself. Women are inclined to drift carelessly to what they would like to be rather than what they really are. There are women who just know their garbos while actually their thoughts and characteristics are much more like Simone Simone, or even at times like Shirley Temple. You will never be well-dressed until the clothes you wear are the true reflection of your real self. That sounded nice, Adrian. But how does a woman find her real self? By observing yourself intelligently and by dropping all insincerity, women have acquired many affectations through years of confused associations. When they can push all that aside, they will see themselves simply, they will dress simply, look smart and be attractive. Is it your opinion then that women should not be influenced by what they see on the screen? Only if they're smart enough to realize that many gowns and motion pictures are designed solely for dramatic purposes and may be quite ridiculous in real life. Well, it's all very well to tell women that proper dress will do wonders for them. But suppose they don't have a great deal of money What then? Well, frankly, Mr. DeMille, a lack of money can be a distinct advantage. Women who must watch their budgets are much more apt to show better taste because their dresses must be more conservative for all-round wear. As for good looks, the women, the women who lead fashion are rarely beauties. Girls like Joan Crawford, Greta Garbo, Carol Lombard, Kay Francis are not pretty from the accepted magazine cover standard, but they use their heads and are constantly doing the unexpected in their dress. The three most important pictures you've worked on recently, Adrienne, are Parnell with Myrna Loy, Maytime with Jeanette Macdonald, and Camille with Greta Garbo. Do you expect these pictures to set any new style trends? Well, each is a costume film of about the same period. It may be that next spring you'll see ladies wearing bonnets like garbos, but they'll be dashing rather than prim. Dresses may have a bit of a bustle, and I wouldn't be surprised if shawls are worn next summer over evening gowns. I'm only guessing now, that's a good signal to call a halt. I hope I've been as much help to the women in our audience as to the women in our audience as Lux Flakes are in protecting our wardrobe. At MGM. Thank you. Good night, Adrienne. Good night. And now tonight's star, ladies and gentlemen, Paul Mune. Thank you, Mr. DeMille. There's no character I've enjoyed portraying more than that of Louis Pasteur. When we stop to think that this lone man contributed to society, it makes the best of us a little insignificant and useless. Mr. Mune, now that the good earth is almost finished, what do you plan to do next? Well, I have two pictures to make. Eskidrill for RKO together with Miriam Hopkins, and then the truth is on the march for Warner Brothers. The latter is based on the unforgettable document of Emile Zola's book I Accus. I'd like to talk more if I thought I had something really interesting to say, but what is known as poor copy. However, I do want to say how much enjoyment the Lux Radio Theatre has given me, both as a listener and a performer. Good night. Good night, Mr. Miriam. Next week, the Lux Radio Theatre brings you Loretta Young, our play Polly of the Circus, famous on the stage and twice a hit in motion pictures. Our sponsors, the makers of Lux Flakes, join me in inviting you to be with us again next Monday night when the Lux Radio Theatre presents Loretta Young and Polly of the Circus with James Gleason. This is Cecil B. DeMille saying good night to you from Hollywood. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.