ORCHESTRA:

(REGULAR PLAYHOUSE THEME. BOARD FADE UNDER:)

CHAPPELL:

The makers of Campbell's Soups present --
The Campbell Playhouse --
Orson Welles, producer.

ORCHESTRA:

(THEME TO FINISH)

WELLES:

Good evening, this is Orson Welles. Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, for our first broadcast of the new year we have the honor of presenting to you once again that great star, Miss Helen Hayes - Helen Hayes in a part of her own choosing, one of the most notorious and irresistible characters of English fiction -- Helen Hayes as Becky Sharp, in William Makepeace Thackeray's "Vanity Fair."

In a moment our story begins, but first Ernest Chappell has a lady with him in the studio tonight, and I think he wants to ask her a question or two.

CHAPPELL:

Thank you, Orson Welles. I do indeed. She's Mrs. (full name) of (city). She tells us that she often serves Campbell's Soups and, of course, we're glad to hear that. But she says that when it comes to vegetable soup she still makes her own. Isn't that so, Mrs. (last name)?

MRS. X:

(homey-middle-aged) Why yes, Mr. Chappell. I know it takes time and a certain amount of trouble ... but I've always made my own.

CHAPPELL:

Would you mind telling us how you make your vegetable soup?

MRS. X:

Not at all. I make it the way my mother taught me to make it. First, I simmer my beef to make a stock that's nice and rich ...

CHAPPELL:

Campbell's do, too, (name) in making their vegetable soup. They simmer choice beef until they have a stock that's rich and deep-flavored. (PAUSE) And your vegetables?

MRS. X:

Well, I generally use whatever vegetables I have on hand ... potatoes, peas, carrots, maybe celery, onion...

CHAPPELL:

Campbell's use those five vegetables, too, in their vegetable soup and ten more besides ... all told, fifteen different vegetables.

MRS. X:

Fifteen! My! I never knew Campbell's used so many different vegetables. They must make a very tasty vegetable soup.

CHAPPELL:

I'm sure you'd find it so, (name) -- very tasty and, with the good beef stock, very hearty, too. And I hope indeed that you - and every woman listening tonight who hasn't already done so - will try Campbell's Vegetable Soup. Taste it critically. Compare it, if you will, with the very finest vegetable soup you remember ladling from your own soup kettle. When you see how eagerly your whole family enjoy bright, delicious platefuls, I think you'll decide then and there to serve this fun-flavored, sturdy vegetable soup of Campbell's right along. Won't you make a note to get Campbell's Vegetable Soup tomorrow? (PAUSE) And now, Helen Hayes and Orson Welles in the life story of Becky Sharp - "Vanity Fair".

WELLES:

But before we begin, dear listeners, let us warn you of two things -- first, that this is a story without a hero. Second, that "Vanity Fair" is, as its name indicates, a very vain, wicked, foolish place, full of all sorts of humbug and falseness and pretensions, as you will soon see for yourselves! As we bring our characters forward, I will ask leave, not only to introduce them, but occasionally to step down from the platform and talk to you about them. If they are good and kindly, to love them and shake them by the hand. If they are wicked and heartless, to abuse them in the strongest terms which politeness admits of. And also to laugh at them confidentially in the listener's sleeve, for it was to combat and expose such as these, no doubt, that laughter was made ... (PAUSE)

(MUSIC ... MUSIC DOWN)

 

MISS PINKERTON:

"The Mall, Chiswick, June fifteen, 1813. Madam: After her six years residence at the Pinkerton Academy For Young Ladies, I have the honour and happiness of presenting Miss Amelia Sedley to her parents as a young lady not unworthy to occupy a fitting position in their polished and refined circle. Those virtues which characterize the young English gentlewoman, those accomplishments which become her birth and station, will not be found wanting in the person of Miss Sedley. Though in geography there is still much to be desired, in music and dancing, in ortography, in every variety of embroidery and needlework, she will be found to have realized her friends' fondest wishes. In leaving the Pinkerton Academy For Young Ladies, Miss Sedley carries with her the hearts of her companions and the affectionate regards of her mistress, who has the honour to subscribe herself, Madam, your most humble servant, Barbara Pinkerton. P.S. Miss Rebecca Sharp -- an orphan -- accompanies Miss Sedley.

(SOUND OF AD LIB GIRLS' VOICES)

 

FIRST GIRL:

Goodbye, goodbye, Amelia...

SECOND GIRL:

Goodbye, Amelia!

AMELIA:

Goodbye, Juliette! Goodbye, Melinda!

THIRD GIRL:

Write to us, Amelia...

COACHMAN:

All ready to go, Miss Sedley!

AMELIA:

Goodbye, Miss Pinkerton.

MISS PINKERTON:

Here, Amelia, is a little something for the journey. It's some sandwiches.

GIRLS:

Oh, Amelia!

MISS PINKERTON:

You may be hungry, you know.

AMELIA:

Oh, thank you, thank you, Miss Pinkerton!

MISS PINKERTON:

Heaven bless you, my child. May you have all the happiness in life you deserve.

AMELIA:

Oh, thank you, Miss Pinkerton.

MISS PINKERTON:

(IN A COOLER TONE OF VOICE) And you, too, Becky Sharp. May you...

BECKY:

Don't you bless me, you old viper!

MISS PINKERTON:

What did you say???

BECKY:

A viper and a fiddlestick ... that's what you are! You took me because I was useful. You treated me like a servant. For four years I've hated this place, and now I'm leaving it, and I'm glad! Goodbye!

(SOUND OF DOOR SLAMMING...MUSIC)

 

(MUSIC DOWN...SOUND OF HORSES' HOOVES AND WHEELS ROLLING)

 

AMELIA:

Rebecca, how could you say such things?

BECKY:

I hate that place! I've never had a friend there or a kind word except from you, Amelia! I hope I may never set eyes on it again. I wish it were on the bottom of the Thames, I do; and if Miss Pinkerton were there, I wouldn't pick her out, that I wouldn't.

AMELIA:

Rebecca!

BECKY:

Oh, how I would like to see her floating in the water yonder, turban and all, with her train streaming after her and her nose like the beak of a wherry.

AMELIA:

Oh, Rebecca, Rebecca, for shame. How can you...how dare you have such wicked, revengeful thoughts?

BECKY:

Revenge may be wicked, but it's natural. And I'm no angel.

(MUSIC)

 

NARRATOR:

And to say the truth, she certainly was not. And, since Becky Sharp is, I am ashamed to say, heroine of this story -- it must be admitted that she had not been fortunate in the choice of her parents. Her father was an artist with a great propensity for running into debt, and a partiality for the tavern. It was from him, I believe, that she inherited her green eyes, and her sandy hair. Her mother, a young woman of the French nation, was by profession an opera girl, and from her, no doubt, she had her white hands and her delicate figure...The humble condition of her parents, Miss Sharp never alluded to ... Indeed, as she advanced in life, her ancestors actually seemed to increase in rank and splendor ... But we are running far ahead of our story ...

(SOUND OF CARRIAGE FADES IN AGAIN)

 

AMELIA:

(BOARD FADING IN) Oh, you shall see him, Becky, this afternoon.. His name is George! George Osborne. ... He's the handsomest man you ever saw ... tall and slender, with a pale face and curly hair -- why, Becky, what's the matter? Becky, there are tears in your eyes!

BECKY:

I'm sorry, Amelia. I hoped you wouldn't notice...

AMELIA:

Well, what is it, Rebecca?

BECKY:

I was thinking of your happiness, Amelia, and then of poor little me, all alone in the world -- an orphan without friends or kindred.

AMELIA:

Not alone, Rebecca ... I shall always be your friend and love you as a sister, indeed I will.

BECKY:

Ah, but to have a beautiful home, Amelia, as you have ... and parents, kind, rich, affectionate parents, who give you everything you ask for; and their love, which is more precious than all! I have no one -- and I have but two frocks in the world. And then to have a brother, a dear brother! Oh, how you must love him.

AMELIA:

I do, I do indeed.

BECKY:

Tell me about your brother, Amelia.

AMELIA:

He's been away so long I don't know him very well. He lives in India, you know.

BECKY:

India? oh, then he must be very rich? They say all Indian nabobs are enormously rich.

AMELIA:

I believe he has a very large income.

BECKY:

And is your sister-in-law a nice, pretty woman, dear Amelia?

AMELIA:

My sister-in-law? I have no sister-in-law...

BECKY:

No sister-in-law?

AMELIA:

My brother Joseph is not married!

BECKY:

Oh, indeed? Your brother Joseph is not married..? Tell me about him, Amelia -- (FADING) Tell me how he looks ... tell me what his tastes are .. tell me the things he ...

(MUSIC ... MUSIC DOWN INTO SOUND OF PIANO AND BECKY OFF AT THE PIANO SINGING A SAD, SENTIMENTAL BALLAD)

GEORGE:

(WHISPER) Look at Jo! See the way he gapes at her! Like a fish!

AMELIA:

Dear brother Joseph!

GEORGE:

Looks to me as though she had him hooked..Amelia, your little friend is wasting no time!

AMELIA:

George, dear, don't talk like that about poor Becky...

(SONG COMES TO A CLOSE..APPLAUSE)

JOSEPH:

Bravo! Bravo!

AMELIA:

Thank you, Becky, that was charming.

GEORGE:

Congratulations, Miss Sharp!

JOSEPH:

Byoo-ootiful! Byoo-ootiful! Made me cry, almost, 'pon my honor it did.

BECKY:

Because you have a kind heart, Mr. Joseph. All the Sedleys have, I think.

JOSEPH:

Wouldn't be surprised if it kept me awake all night...trying to hum it in bed...

BECKY:

Oh, Mr. Joseph...

JOSEPH:

My dear Miss Sharp, allow me ... one little teaspoonful of jelly to recruit you after your immense...your delightful exertions, ha, ha!

BECKY:

Oh, thank you, Mr. Joseph. Is that jelly from India?

JOSEPH:

It is. Brought it myself from Doggley Wollah.

BECKY:

Then it must be good, Mr. Joseph. I'm sure everything must be good that comes from India...

(MUSIC)

 

NARRATOR:

Dear listeners, and more especially, dear ladies, I know what you are thinking about Becky Sharp...and you are right. But before you blame her, remember -- that Miss Sharp had no kind parent to arrange these delicate matters for her, and that if she did not get a husband for herself, there was no one else in the wide world who would take that trouble off her hands. So ladies -- be charitable!

And now we come to a great evening in the history of our heroine...the evening when Mr. Joseph Sedley was to "pop" the question." Present were Miss Rebecca Sharp; Miss Amelia Sedley; her fiance, Lieutenant George Osborne; her brother, Mr. Joseph Sedley ... and a tall, silent gentleman of no particular importance called Captain William Dobbin. Everything seemed to smile that evening upon Becky's fortunes. She took Joseph's arm as a matter of course on going to dinner. She sat with Joseph on the box of his open carriage as they drove across Westminster Bridge towards Vauxhall Gardens. And it was with Joseph that she walked through the lamp-lit gardens and heard the fiddlers play and watched the lady acrobats mount skyward on a slack rope ascending to the stars.

Indeed, had it not been for a certain bowl of rack-punch that was served that night for supper and of which Joseph partook immoderately ...

But let us draw a merciful veil over what happened then ...

Suffice it to say that Joseph, in a very short time, drank up the whole contents of the bowl, the consequence of which was a liveliness, at first astonishing and then positively painful. Before he was finally put to bed he had sung a song, fought two policemen and publicly apostrophised Miss Becky Sharp as his "diddle, diddle darling". The next morning, overcome with remorse, he left London for Cheltenham. Two days later Miss Sharp, still single and in tears, left the home of her kind friend, Amelia Sedley, to take up her position as governess in the home of Sir Pitt Crawley, Bart., of Crawley Manor, Queen's Crawley near Mudbury in Mudshire ...

(MUSIC)

 

(MUSIC DOWN)

 

BECKY:

My dearest, sweetest Amelia. With what mingled joy and sorrow do I take up the pen to write to my dearest friend. Yesterday, I was at home in the sweet company of a sister whom I shall ever, ever cherish. Now I am friendless and alone. It is after dinner, and Sir Pitt has gone off in the kitchen with Horrocks, the butler; to get tipsy, I believe...and we sat around the table by the light of a single candle while young Mr. Crawley read us a long, dismal sermon on behalf of the Mission for the Chickasaw Indians. At ten we had prayers... (A LOUD KNOCKING IS HEARD OFF) in the main hall; all the servants and Sir Pitt somewhat the worse for ...

(REPEAT SOUND OF HEAVY KNOCKING)

 

BECKY:

Who is it? How dare you... (SOUND OF DOOR OPENING) Oh, Sir Pitt!

PITT:

Writing, letters, eh, Miss Becky?

BECKY:

Yes, sir.

PITT:

By the light of my candles, eh?

BECKY:

Yes, sir.

PITT:

No candles after eleven o'clock, Miss Becky.

BECKY:

Yes, sir.

(SOUND OF CANDLE BEING BLOWN OUT)

 

PITT:

Go to bed in the dark now, you pretty little hussy, and unless you wish me to come for the candle every night, mind and be in bed at eleven. Ha, ha, ha ...

(SOUND OF DOOR CLOSING, WHICH FADES THE SOUND THE LAUGHTER WHICH TRAILS OFF AS HE GOES DOWN THE PASSAGE)

 

BECKY:

Dearest Amelia: Miss Crawley has arrived...Sir Pitt's sister. Miss Crawley with her fat horses, fat servants, fat spaniel...the great, rich Miss Crawley with seventy thousand pounds in the five percents, whom -- or I had better say which -- her brother adores. She looks very apoplectic, the dear soul. No wonder her brother is anxious about her.

MISS CRAWLEY:

(SCREAMING) Becky Sharp!

BECKY:

(FADING IN) Yes, Miss Crawley?

MISS CRAWLEY:

Come you, my child, and sit by me and amuse me while my hair's being curled.

BECKY:

Yes, Miss Crawley.

MISS CRAWLEY:

You know, Becky, you have more brains than half the Shire...if merit had its reward, you ought to be a Duchess...I wish you could come to me in London.

BECKY:

To London.

MISS CRAWLEY:

Why, my dear, in London--we might even find you some Lord for a husband...

BECKY:

A Lord, Miss Crawley?

MISS CRAWLEY:

Why not? I adore all imprudent marriages. What I like best is for a nobleman to marry a milliner's daughter as Lord Flowerdale did. It makes all the women so angry. I wish some great man would run away with you, my dear. I'm sure you're pretty enough.

BECKY:

Two post-boys to drive us! Oh, it would be delightful...

MISS CRAWLEY:

What I like next best is for a poor fellow to run away with a rich girl. That's what I'm always telling Rawdon.

BECKY:

Rawdon? Who's he?

MISS CRAWLEY:

He's my favorite nephew! You'll see him--Captain Rawdon Crawley of the King's Dragoons--he'll be here tomorrow. You know, I have quite set my heart on Rawdon running away with someone.

BECKY:

A rich someone or a poor someone?

MISS CRAWLEY:

Why, you goose, Rawdon has not a shilling but what I give him, and what he'll get in my will! He is riddled with debts and the bailiffs after him like dogs after a hare! When he marries he must repair his fortunes....

BECKY:

Is he very clever, Miss Crawley?

MISS CRAWLEY:

Clever, my love? Not an idea in the world--beyond his horses and his regiment and his hunting and his play, but he must succeed..he's so delightfully wicked. He's adored in his regiment and the young men at the Cocoa-Tree simply swear by him. (FADING) You just wait till you see him, my dear. Six foot two and a pair of mustachios that...

(MUSIC)

 

(MUSIC...DOWN..SOUND OF DANCE MUSIC PLAYING OFF)

BECKY:

Oh, those stars...those stars, Captain Crawley. I feel myself almost a spirit when I gaze upon them.

RAWDON:

Oh--ah--Gad--yes. So do I exactly, Miss Sharp.

BECKY:

(PAUSE) That's a beautiful waltz they're playing...

RAWDON:

Gad, yes. First rate, first rate.

BECKY:

It's beautiful out here in the garden, isn't it, Captain?

RAWDON:

By Gad, it is..Capital, capital. (PAUSE) You don't mind my cigar, do you, Miss Sharp?

BECKY:

Oh no, Captain...no. I love the smell of a cigar out of doors beyond everything in the world. (PAUSE) Oh, it must be wonderful to be a man...Might I take a puff..? The tiniest, tiniest puff?

RAWDON:

Gad, you've got spirit, Miss Sharp...more spirit than any women I've ever met, and I've known some clippers. There you are..Steady now--

BECKY:

Oh, no, you must hold it for me.. (SHE GIVES A LITTLE SCREAM, STARTS COUGHING, CHOKING, ETC.)

RAWDON:

Haw, haw...that's not the way, my dear. Breathe in, not out. Like this--look....

BECKY:

Oh..oh, that's wonderful, Captain Crawley.

RAWDON:

Jove--aw--Gad--aw--it's the finest segaw I ever smoked in the world--aw!

(MUSIC UP AND DOWN)

BECKY:

Captain Crawley - how dare you?

RAWDON:

I have eyes, Miss Sharp. I've watched my father gaping at you...the old chaw-bacon!

BECKY:

You hint at something not honourable, then?

RAWDON:

Oh--Gad--really, Miss Rebecca.

BECKY:

Do you suppose I have no feeling of self-respect, Captain Crawley, because I am poor and friendless, and because rich people have none?

RAWDON:

I say, now, really I--

BECKY:

Do you think, because I am a governess, I have not as much sense, and feeling, and good-breeding as you gentlefolks in Hampshire?

RAWDON:

Gad, Becky, I didn't--

BECKY:

I can endure poverty, but not shame--neglect, but not insult; and insult from--from you, Rawdon! (BURSTS INTO TEARS)

RAWDON:

Hang it, Miss Sharp!

BECKY:

Let me go!

RAWDON:

Rebecca!

BECKY:

Please let me go!

RAWDON:

Rebecca--by jove--upon my soul.

(MUSIC...MUSIC OUT)

BECKY:

I'm sorry, Sir Pitt, Miss Crawley can't see you today.

PITT:

So much the better. I don't want to see her no how. It's you I want to see, Miss Becky.

BECKY:

Me? Me, Sir Pitt?

PITT:

Miss Becky, I've heard my sister say she wanted you in London with her. Well, I won't have it. I want you here at Queen's Crawley, Miss, and I want you here to stay.

BECKY:

Poor, humble me, Sir Pitt? How could it matter to you, whether I stay or go?

PITT:

I tell you it does. You must stay, dear Becky.

BECKY:

Stay--as a governess all my life? You wouldn't wish me to do that, Sir Pitt?

PITT:

I wish you to stay. I can't do without you. Will you stay, Becky--yes or no?

BECKY:

Stay as what, Sir?

PITT:

Stay as Lady Crawley, if you like.

BECKY:

Lady Crawley!

PITT:

Stay and be my wife. You're vit vor't. Birth be hanged. You're as good a lady as ever I seed, Becky. Will you stay -- yes, or no?

BECKY:

Oh, Sir Pitt...I don't know what to say ...

PITT:

Say yes, Becky. I'm an old man, but a good 'un. I'm good for twenty years. I'll make you happy, zee if I don't. You shall do what you like; spend what you like; and 'ave it all your own way. I'll make you a zettlement. I'll do everything regular.

BECKY:

Oh, Sir Pitt...it's impossible! ...

PITT:

Look 'ere. Down on my knees, I asks you ...

BECKY:

But I can't, Sir Pitt ...

PITT:

What d'you mean -- you can't?

BECKY:

Alas! I can't! I can't! I'm all ready ...

(SOUND OF DOOR OPENING)

MISS CRAWLEY:

(FADING IN) What's this? What's going on? On your knees, Sir Pitt? What are you doing there? Don't tell me you're proposing to Becky!

PITT:

Ees, I am!

MISS CRAWLEY:

And?

BECKY:

I've thanked Sir Pitt, Madam, and told him that ...

MISS CRAWLEY:

You refuse him?

BECKY:

(TEARFULLY) Yes.

MISS CRAWLEY:

And am I to credit my ears, that you absolutely proposed to her, Sir Pitt?

PITT:

Ees, I did.

MISS CRAWLEY:

And she refused you, as she says?

PITT:

Ees.

MISS CRAWLEY:

Pray, Miss Sharp, are you waiting for the Prince Regent's divorce, that you don't think our family good enough for you?

BECKY:

Miss Crawley, oh, how can you speak to me that way? Oh, my friends, oh, my benefactors..May not my love, my life, my duty, try to repay the confidence you have shown me? Do you grudge me even gratitude, Miss Crawley? Oh, it is too much. My heart is too full ...

(SHE BURSTS INTO TEARS)

MISS CRAWLEY:

Brother, let me speak to her alone.

PITT:

Aye, I'll go. (FADING) I'll go!

(SOUND OF STEPS, DOOR CLOSING)

MISS CRAWLEY:

Now, my dear ...

BECKY:

Yes, Miss Crawley?

MISS CRAWLEY:

Now, and tell me the truth. You'd never have refused him, had there not been some one else in the case. Come on now, tell me the reasons. What are the private reasons? Why did you refuse him?

BECKY:

I refused him because, oh, how can I tell you, my dear, dear benefactress...? I refused him
because --

MISS CRAWLEY:

Yes..yes..go on! Because?

BECKY:

Because -- I am married already!

MISS CRAWLEY:

Married! You sly little wretch..How dared you not tell me? Goodness, gracious, what a thing to do! And who's to make my chocolate in the morning? Who are you married to?

BECKY:

I am married to...to...oh, how can you ever forgive me?

MISS CRAWLEY:

Oh, stop blubbering, you foolish thing...I'm not going to eat you. Now then, tell me, who are you married to?

BECKY:

I'm married to a relation of yours -

MISS CRAWLEY:

What are you talking about, child? You just refused Sir Pitt. Speak at once! Don't drive me mad!

BECKY:

Madam, I am married to your nephew! To --

MISS CRAWLEY:

To my ...

BECKY:

To Captain Rawdon Crawley!

MISS CRAWLEY:

Rawdon Crawley!

BECKY:

Last week, Madame...by the Rector...at Mudbury.

MISS CRAWLEY:

Rawdon married TO YOU??? ... a governess ... a nobody ... (SCREAMING HYSTERICALLY) Why, you scheming, treacherous, ungrateful, deceitful hussy! Thought you'd get my money, eh? Well, you won't -- I'll change my will tomorrow! Not one penny, do you hear? Not one penny for either of you. And tell him this for me -- my precious nephew, your husband -- tell him I wash my hands of him! Do you hear? I never want to see him again, as long as I live! And when you starve, the two of you -- which you will -- and the bailiffs stand at the door -- don't come to me, because I won't raise a finger to help you, do you hear me? Not a finger! Now get out! Get out! Get out!

(MUSIC)

NARRATOR:

Thus far, dear listener, our chronicle has been a milk and water one, dealing with the fates of modest people. Now, suddenly, our surprised story finds itself, for a moment, among very famous events and personages and hanging onto the skirts of history. Napoleon has escaped from Elba. Once again his eagles are perched on the towers of Notre Dame. Once again the whirring and flapping of those mighty wings, is heard in every city of Europe. And so, for awhile, with your permission, we shall take you travelling ... across the English Channel -- from Dover to Ostend and from Ostend to Brussels. Never since the days of Darius the Mede, was there such a brilliant train of camp followers, as hung around the Duke of Wellington's army in the low countries that summer, and led it, dancing and feasting, as it were, up to the very brink of battle. A certain ball, which a noble duchess gave at Brussels on the fifteenth of June, is historical.

Among the much-coveted invitations that went out on that occasion, there are three that are of special interest to us. They bear the names of: Lieutenant and Mrs. George Osborne, (you know them of course); Captain and Mrs. Rawdon Crawley (you know them, too); and Captain William Dobbin, a tall silent gentleman with large feet, whom you met before, if you remember, in Vauxhall Gardens, and whom I described to you then, and describe to you now, again, as a gentleman of no particular importance. Since that night at Vauxhall, a year has passed and many things have happened and much has changed.

(AD LIB OF BALL...SOUND OF WALTZ)

 

NARRATOR:

So now, dear listeners, we are in Brussels, at the Duchess of Richmond's ball, where Amelia, knowing nobody, was an utter failure; while Mrs. Rawdon Crawley's debut was, on the contrary, very brilliant.

FIRST MAN:

(OFF) Mrs. Crawley, may I have the pleasure?

SECOND MAN:

(FADING IN) Our dance, I believe, Mrs. Crawley.

THIRD MAN:

Ours, Mrs. Crawley.

FOURTH MAN:

Mrs. Crawley, if you remember, you promised me.

BECKY:

Oh, you dear, dear men! You're spoiling me. Every one of you...And I'm going to disappoint you all.

FIRST MAN:

But, Mrs. Crawley, you did promise --

SECOND MAN:

You distinctly said --

BECKY:

Later, my dears. Later, perhaps. Just now, I must go and sit over there with poor little Amelia Osborne. She doesn't seem to have any friends here at all. (CALLING) Amelia! Amelia, my darling!

AMELIA:

(FADING IN) Good evening, Rebecca.

BECKY:

My dear Amelia. What is the matter? Aren't you ashamed? Sitting here all by yourself... Such a delightful ball, too - don't you think? Everybody's here. Everybody, that everybody knows, I mean. Indeed, there are only a few nobodies in the whole room. Amelia, dear, where is your husband? What a wretch he is, leaving you here all alone like this. I really must talk to him about it.

AMELIA:

Oh, please, please don't.

BECKY:

Oh, and that reminds me, Amelia darling. There is something you really must talk to him about.

AMELIA:

I?

BECKY:

Yes, my dear. For Heaven's sake, stop him from gambling, or he'll ruin himself! He and Rawdon are playing at cards every night. And you know how poorly George plays, and Rawdon will win every shilling from him, if he doesn't take care.

AMELIA:

I didn't know George was -

BECKY:

Indeed. It's your fault, as much as anybody's.

AMELIA:

How could it be my --

BECKY:

Well, why don't you prevent him, you silly, careless creature? Why don't you go out with George of an evening, when he comes to us... instead of moping at home? Aren't you lonely?

AMELIA:

Why, yes, I --

BECKY:

[Where's that Captain William Dobbin of yours?

AMELIA:

I don't know --

BECKY:

You know, Amelia, I hear he's] been keeping you company at home while George is out. And I dare say he is very kind and pleasant, but how could one love a man with feet of such size? Your husband's feet are darlings...oh, here he comes now. George! You wretch! Where have you been? Here is Emmy, crying her eyes out for you.

GEORGE:

I'm sorry, Amelia --

BECKY:

Oh, I know! George, you've come to fetch me for the quadrille!

AMELIA:

George, I'm not feeling very well. I'd like to go home soon.

GEORGE:

Right after this dance, Amelia. ....

BECKY:

Poor, darling, Amelia. You sit here quietly and you'll feel better after a time. Oh, and Amelia, do you mind very much holding my bouquet and my shawl for me, until I come back? We won't be long, will we, George?

NARRATOR:

George Osborne danced with Rebecca, four or five times that evening, how many times Amelia scarcely knew. She sat quite unnoticed in her corner, until Captain William Dobbin made so bold, as to bring her refreshments and sit beside her for a time. He did not know what to say to her, because of the tears which he saw filling her eyes. At last, George came back for Rebecca's shawl and flowers, and Amelia let him come and go, without saying a word. He went away with the bouquet, and when he gave it to its owner, there lay a note coiled in it like a snake among the flowers. As Rebecca took it, she gave George a quick glance, and then she made a curtsey and walked away on her husband's arm. After she had gone, George looked around for Amelia, and could not see her, and then at that moment, just as the windows of the ballroom were turning pale in the dawn ... (AD LIB OF BALL .. MUSIC UP)

VOICE:

(CALLING) Gentlemen! Gentlemen!

(ORCHESTRA STOPS .. DRUM ROLLS, THEN STOPS .. THERE IS COMPLETE SILENCE)

 

VOICE:

Gentlemen, word has just reached us from Duke of Wellington's headquarters at Waterloo. The enemy is advancing. Our left wing is already engaged. A11 regiments march in one hour.

(_GENERAL AD LIB, CHEERS, ETC.)
(BAND PLAYS "GOD SAVE THE KING" WHICH ESTABLISHES .. THEN COMES DOWN.. SEGUES INTO MARCH, WHICH CONTINUES UNDER NARRATION_)

NARRATOR:

The sun was rising as the regiments began to march, among them, the Seventh of the Line. It was a gallant sight .. The band led the column, then marched the grenadiers, their captain at their head. In the center, were the colors, borne by the senior and junior ensigns .. Then George came, marching at the head of his company. He looked up and smiled at Amelia and passed on. After awhile, the sound of music died away. And all that day in the town, they heard the sound of guns, blown in on the wind, getting louder in the afternoon, and then fainter as evening came on.

Then no more firing was heard at Brussels. The Battle of Waterloo had been won, and darkness came down on the field and city, on Becky Sharp, who, profitting by a rumor of an English defeat, had just sold her husband's horses for five hundred pounds apiece, and on Amelia, who was praying for George, who was lying on his face, dead, with a bullet through his heart.

(STATION BREAK)

 

CHAPPELL:

You are listening to Orson Welles in the Campbell Playhouse presentation of "Vanity Fair", starring Helen Hayes in the role of Becky Sharp.

This is the COLUMBIA...BROADCASTING SYSTEM

(Station break - 20 seconds)

 

STATION BREAK

CHAPPELL:

This is Ernest Chappell, ladies and gentlemen, welcoming you back to the Campbell Playhouse. In a moment we shall resume our presentation of "Vanity Fair".

You know, the other day I ran across something I thought unusually interesting. It seems that the first French cook-book ... possibly, indeed, the earliest printed cookbook in the world ... was written in the year fourteen fifty-six. And here's the unusual thing about it: It was a book entirely devoted to the making of soup. So it appears the art of soup-cooking has been a matter of record for nearly five hundred years. And also that people have always realized that good, hot soup ... nourishing and sustaining ... is important to the family's well-being.

Today the soups we enjoy are perhaps better soups than ever before - owing in some measure, surely, to the long years that Campbell's have devoted to the making of fine soups. Indeed, the skill and patience and careful tending of the kettle have made their soups ... in the judgment of good home-cooks everywhere ... so good, so home-like, that, increasingly, women have turned over their soup-making to Campbell's. Are you among them? If not, won't you give these fine-flavored, wholesome soups a trial?

Now we resume our Campbell Playhouse presentation of "Vanity Fair", starring Helen Hayes and Orson Welles.

NARRATOR:

We now come to a part of our history which might well be called "How To Live Well on Absolutely Nothing a Year." For that is exactly what the characters of our story are doing at this moment - those that aren't dead already. Amelia Osborne with her little boy has been living for some years now in a cottage in Camden Hill on a tiny income, augmented, though of course she doesn't know this, by the kindness of her dead husband's friend, Captain William Dobbin, whom you have met. As to our heroine (and I know she is the one you really want to hear about) I can only tell you this: that by the time our story finds her again, Rebecca and her husband had established themselves in a small, but very comfortable house on Curzon Street, Mayfair. How she did it, I cannot tell you - but you saw expensive chariots at her door; you beheld her carriage in the park surrounded by dandies of note; and the little box in the third tier of the Opera was crowded with heads constantly changing. There was, it is true, one head there which for some months past had not changed, and which was not the head of her husband, Rawdon Crawley. It was a head which was to be seen quite frequently of an afternoon in the little house on Curzon Street.

It was a bald head which shone under the candles and it was fringed with red hair. It had bushy eyebrows, with little twinkling, bloodshot eyes surrounded by a thousand wrinkles. Its jaw was under-slung and when it laughed, two white buck teeth protruded themselves and glistened savagely in the midst of the grin.

BECKY:

(FADING IN) Dear, dear Lord Steyne, you will forgive me! A poor man's wife must make herself useful, you know .. I was in the kitchen making a pudding ...

STEYNE:

I know you were. I saw you through the area railings as I drove up.

BECKY:

You see everything, Lord Steyne ...

STEYNE:

A few things, but not that, my pretty lady. You silly little fibster. I heard you in the room overhead .. where, I have no doubt, you were putting a little rouge on.

BECKY:

Oh!

STEYNE:

You must give some of your rouge to my Lady Steyne, my dear, whose complexion is quite preposterous .. And I heard the bedroom door open and then you came downstairs.

BECKY:

Is it a crime to try to look my best when you come here, Lord Steyne?

STEYNE:

Well, no, perhaps not ...

BECKY:

Surely, it's the least I can do after what came for me this morning. How can I ever thank you enough, My Lord ..

STEYNE:

Oh. You mean the ... Oh, well, I won't miss them, my dear. And if they give you pleasure .. Where is your husband, my dear?

BECKY:

(SIGHING) Oh, out at some club, gambling again, I expect. He's out so much .. He leaves me so much alone.

STEYNE:

So convenient of him, isn't it, my dear?

BECKY:

(WHISPERING) My Lord ...

STEYNE:

I've been thinking, Becky, about what you asked me last night. Do you still wish it?

BECKY:

My Lord, you know I do.

STEYNE:

You little devil you! You're really bent on becoming a fine lady, eh? And you'll pester my poor old life out to get you into society!

BECKY:

My Lord, I didn't mean to ...

STEYNE:

And for what? You won't be able to hold your own there, you silly little fool! You've got no money!

BECKY:

You will get us a place, my Lord, as soon as possible!

STEYNE:

You have no money - And you want to compete with those that have. You poor little earthenware pipkin! You want to swim down the stream along with the great copper kettles. I tell you, Becky, it's not half so nice as here. You'll be bored there.

BECKY:

Oh, no, My Lord!

STEYNE:

I am. My wife is as gay as Lady Macbeth, and my daughters as cheerful as Regan and Goneril. Oh well, see for yourself. You'll be invited next week. Only I warn you - look out and hold your own! And beware of the women!

(MUSIC UP AND DOWN)

 

LADY STEYNE:

And I, My Lord, refuse to have that woman in the house!

STEYNE:

My Lady Steyne. I ask you once more. Will you have the goodness to go to that desk and write an invitation to Mr. and Mrs. Rawdon Crawley.

LADY STEYNE:

My Lord, I will not be present! I will leave this house!

STEYNE:

I wish you would. And I'd be free of your blasted tragedy airs. Who are you to give orders here? You've got no money! You've got no brains! There isn't anyone in this house who doesn't wish you were dead!

LADY STEYNE:

I wish I were.

STEYNE:

That's beside the point. Tell me - are you going to send that invitation to my young friend, Mrs. Crawley?

LADY STEYNE:

You may strike me if you like, but you shall not make me receive that woman.

STEYNE:

Lady Steyne, I am a gentleman and never lay my hand upon a woman, save in the way of kindness. I only wish to correct little faults in your character. You mustn't give yourself airs! For all you know, this caluminated, simple, good-humored Mrs. Crawley is quite innocent, even more innocent than yourself perhaps!

LADY STEYNE:

Oh!

STEYNE:

Her husband's character isn't good. I admit, but it's as good as your father's, who has gambled a little and not paid a great deal, and who cheated you of the only legacy you ever had and left you a pauper on my hands.

LADY STEYNE:

Oh!

STEYNE:

Remember, my dear, this temple of virtue belongs to me, and if I invite all Newgate or all bedlam here, by Heaven, they shall be welcome!

(MUSIC UP AND DOWN)

 

RAWDON:

By Jove, Beck, you're fit to be commander-in-chief or Archbishop of Canterbury. By Jove!

BECKY:

What are you talking about, Rawdon?

RAWDON:

You've done it, Beck! How do you feel now? The daughter of a painting master and an opera girl ... invited to one of the greatest houses in England ... Gad, Becky, you're a wonder! I say - Beck, you're looking wonderful tonight . . .

BECKY:

Thank you . . .

RAWDON:

Pink always was your color. And I say, Beck, where'd you get those? Gad - they look like diamonds . . .

BECKY:

Why . . er . . .Yes, they're diamonds . . .

RAWDON:

Well, I'm dashed if I can see where . . .

BECKY:

Where do you suppose I got them, you old goose? I hired them. From Mr. Polonius on Carpentry Street. You don't suppose that all the diamonds that go to Court belong to the wearers, do you? . . . Rawdon, do you have to smoke that filthy cigar in here?

RAWDON:

Filthy, eh? I remember when you liked 'em well enough.

BECKY:

That was when I was on my promotion, goosey! Now go on. Get dressed. Hurry.

RAWDON:

Gad, Beck, you're wonderful!

BECKY:

I'll make our fortune, yet, you old booby!

RAWDON:

By Jove, I believe you will!

(MUSIC)

 

(MUSIC DOWN)

 

NARRATOR:

It is not my intention, dear listener, to describe to you here the brilliant and fashionable entertainment that was given in the Marquis of Steyne's splendid house on that fateful evening. Suffice it to say that among all the grand names that were present that night, and half London was there and half the embassies and celebrities of Europe -- one name occurred again and again, a name unknown till this evening to that particular class of London society -- the name of Mrs. Rawdon Crawley. The Marquis of Steyne was her slave...followed her everywhere and scarcely spoke to anyone in the room besides. She danced a minuet with Monsieur de Truffigny. Then she figured in a waltz with the Prince of Klingenspohr. Papoosh Pash himself would have liked to dance with her if that amusement had been the custom of his country. Everybody was in ecstasy. She passed by Lady Stunnington with a look of scorn. She patronized Lady Gaunt and Lady Tapeworm.

At suppertime she was placed at the grand exclusive table with His Royal Highness. She was served on gold plate and when the hour of departure came, a crowd of young men followed her cheering to her carriage, thereby quite separating her from her escort, Colonel Rawdon Crawley. So completely separating her, indeed, that it was not until late the following afternoon that she had news of him...

RAWDON:

"Dear Becky: I hope you slept well. Don't be frightened if I don't bring you in your coffee this morning - Last night as I was coming home smoaking, I met with an accident. I was nabbed by Moss of Cursitor Street -- you remember -- the same bailiff that had me this time two years ago. It's Nathan's got a warrant against me -- a hundred and fifty -- with costs, hundred and seventy. Please send me my wallet and some clothes -- I'm in pumps and a white tye -- I've seventy in it. And as soon as you get this, drive to Nathan's -- offer him seventy-five down, and ask him to renew --. It won't do to let it stand over, as tomorrow's Sunday; And the beds here are not very clean, and there may be other things out against me -- God bless you, Beck! Yours in haste, Rawdon... P.S. Make haste and come, Beck dear!"

(MUSIC UP AND DOWN)

BECKY:

Rawdon my poor darling Monster! You may fancy my state when I read your poor dear old ill-spelt letter. Ill as I was, I instantly called for the carriage, and as soon as I was dressed (though I couldn't drink a drop of chocolate -- I assure you I couldn't without my own darling monster to bring it to me) I drove like the wind to Nathan's. I saw him -- I wept - I cried -- I fell at his odious knees. Nothing would mollify the horrid man. He would have all the money, he said, or keep my poor darling monster in prison. When I got home I found Milord there and down on my knees I went .. He pish'd and psha'd in a fury -- and said he would see whether he could lend me the money. At last he went away, promising that he would send it to me in the morning; when I will bring it to my poor old monster with a kiss from his affectionate, Becky ... I am writing in bed! Oh, I have such a headache and such a heartache!

(MUSIC ... MUSIC DOWN)

 

NARRATOR:

When Rawdon read over this letter, he turned so red and looked so savage that his companions in the jail easily perceived that bad news had reached him. Then he had an interview with his jailer. What was said at that interview, what promises were made, what undertakings given, I can not tell you. What I can tell you is that a little before nine that evening, Rawdon Crawley left the jail. He ran across the streets and the great squares of Vanity Fair and at length came up breathless in front of his own house.

(SOUND OF PIANO PLAYING AND BECKY'S VOICE SINGING FAINTLY)

 

The drawing room windows were ablaze with light. He stood there for some time, the light from the rooms on his pale face. He took out his door key and let himself into the house.

(SOUND OF DOOR OPENING AND CLOSING...SOUND OF MUSIC AND SINGING LOUDER...SOUND OF STEPS GOING UP STAIRS)

 

He went silently up the stairs. Nobody was stirring in the house. All the servants had been sent away.

(SOUND OF STEPS STOPPING, THE MUSIC INSIDE COMES TO AN END AND STEYNE'S VOICE IS HEARD)

 

STEYNE:

(OFF) Brava! Brava!

BECKY:

I'm glad you are pleased, My Lord.

STEYNE:

(PASSIONATELY) It is beautiful, Becky...like you..beautiful!..And desirable...

(SOUND OF DOOR OPENING SHARPLY)

 

BECKY:

(SCREAMS) Rawdon!

STEYNE:

Oh! You've come back! How do you do, Crawley?

RAWDON:

What is this man doing here?

BECKY:

Rawdon! I am innocent! Before God, I am innocent! My Lord! Say I am innocent!

STEYNE:

You...innocent? Blast you! So, this was a trap set by the two of you! A fine pair!

BECKY:

My Lord!

STEYNE:

You, innocent! Why, every trinket you have on your body is paid for by me. I've given you thousands of pounds which this fellow has spent. And for which he has sold you.

RAWDON:

You lie!

STEYNE:

Innocent, by Gad!... Don't think to frighten me as you have the others.

RAWDON:

You lie, you coward!

STEYNE:

Make way, sir, and let me pass!

(SOUND OF STRUGGLE AND STEYNE GASPING FOR BREATH)

RAWDON:

Get out!

(SOUND OF BLOW, THEN SOUND OF STEYNE FALLING)

(SOUND OF STEPS ... DOOR CLOSES)

 

BECKY:

(IN A TERRIFIED WHISPER) Rawdon!

RAWDON:

Come here!

BECKY:

Yes, Rawdon.

RAWDON:

Take off those things. (SOUND OF JEWELRY TINKLING AS IT IS REMOVED) Throw them down!

BECKY:

Rawdon, what are you going to do?

RAWDON:

I'll send it back to him tonight! With the rest I'll pay a few of our debts.

BECKY:

Rawdon!

RAWDON:

You might have spared me a hundred pounds, Becky, out of all this. When I needed it I've always shared with you.....

BECKY:

Rawdon! I'm innocent! I tell you, I'm innocent! Rawdon! Come back! (SCREAMING) Rawdon! Rawdon!

RAWDON:

I'm done, Becky. I'm done.

(SOUND OF DOOR SLAMMING)

 

(MUSIC)

 

NARRATOR:

One month to a day following the Marquis of Steyne's party, Colonel Rawdon Crawley left London to take up a post in the colonies. His wife left London some weeks later for the continent. She was in Paris that winter and the following year in Rome. She was in Berlin, two years later, when she received the news of her husband's death, and the last of the modest allowance which he had regularly sent her from his colonial appointment. That summer she was seen in Vienna. After that she was heard of no more.

And now, dear listeners, we near the end of our chronicle. One more sight of our friends and we are done... A happy ending and our story is over, but before that we must go travelling once more together - this time with Colonel William Dobbin and his party to the little, comfortable Ducal town of Pumpernickel in Southern Germany. We have arrived with carriage and courier at the Elpbrinz Hotel, the best in town, and the whole party is dining downstairs. Everybody remarks at the majesty of Mr. Joseph Sedley, recently returned from India, now somewhat portly and red of face...and the knowing way in which he sips or rather sucks his wine.

As to Colonel William Dobbin, himself, you remember him, surely -- for you have met him before in our story...a gentleman with long legs, a pale face and very large hands and feet, which at first seem rather ridiculous, but his thoughts are just, his brains fairly good, his heart honest and pure, his life warm and humble...And he has loved Amelia for fifteen years. After dinner, Amelia, the boy and Colonel William Dobbin go to the Opera. Brother Joseph, being less musical, proceeds to the Casino where a roulette game is in progress. The play-rooms are crowded. Women are playing...some of them masked, and behind the masks the eyes twinkle...some blue, some brown, some green.

(AD LIB SOUNDS OF CASINO...SOUND OF ROULETTE BALL WHIZZING AROUND...ROULETTE GAME CONTINUES THROUGHOUT SCENE WITH BALL COMING TO REST AT PLACES INDICATED IN DIALOGUE)

 

CROUPIER:

Faites vos jeux...Messieurs, Mesdames...Rien ne va plus...(SOUND OF BALL COMING TO A STOP ... AD LIB COMMENTS...THEN SOUND OF CHIPS BEING RAKED IN) Messieurs, Mesdames...faites vos jeux...faites vos jeux....

BECKY:

(WITH SLIGHT FOREIGN ACCENT) Monsieur...yes, you, Monsieur...

JOSEPH:

What? What? What's that?

BECKY:

Will you do me a little favor, Monsieur?

JOSEPH:

What is it?

BECKY:

Sit down beside me, if you please, Monsieur, and give me good luck.

JOSEPH:

Ah, really, well now... Heaven bless my soul... I am very fortunate, as a matter of fact. I'm sure to give you good fortune.

CROUPIER:

Messieurs, Mesdames...faites vos jeux...rien ne va plus..(SOUND OF IVORY BALL COMING TO A STOP)

JOSEPH:

See, what did I tell you?

BECKY:

Oh, thank you, Monsieur! (SOUND OF HER CHIPS ON MIKE) Do you play much, Monsieur?

JOSEPH:

I put down a nap or two now and then.

BECKY:

I understand, Monsieur. You don't play to win. No more do I. I play to forget but I cannot. I cannot forget old times, Monsieur. Everybody changes, everybody forgets. Nobody has any heart. But you, you have not changed much, Joseph Sedley!

JOSEPH:

Good heavens! What are you talking about?

BECKY:

I should have known you anywhere....there are things a woman never forgets.

JOSEPH:

I say...who is it? Who are you?

BECKY:

Can't you guess? Without my mask, perhaps... Have you forgotten me, Joseph?

JOSEPH:

Good Heavens! Miss Sharp! Rebecca!

(MUSIC....MUSIC DOWN)

 

NARRATOR:

That evening from his window in the hotel, Colonel Dobbin witnessed the arrival of Mrs. Becky and her meagre luggage. He saw Amelia come out to greet her. Colonel Dobbin saw where his duty lay --

BECKY:

(FADING IN) Major Dobbin! How nice it is to see you. Or rather, Colonel, I believe it is now.. Do you remember...

DOBBIN:

I beg your pardon, Mrs. Crawley! I'm bound to tell you it is not as your friend that I am come here now.

JOSEPH:

Blast it, Dobbin, keep a civil tongue!

DOBBIN:

Amelia, do you intend to have Mrs. Crawley in your house?

AMELIA:

Dear, poor Rebecca! After all her suffering. All her friends false to her, her husband wicked deceitful wretch, having deserted her and taken her child away from her...

DOBBIN:

But Amelia, the woman never had a...

JOSEPH:

I will not have this sort of thing in my house. I say, Dobbin, I will not have it and I --

BECKY:

Dear friend, do hear what Colonel Dobbin has to say against me.

JOSEPH:

I will not hear it, blast it! (DOOR SLAMS)

AMELIA:

Now we are two women. You can speak now, sir.

DOBBIN:

I assure you, Amelia - this is not a pleasant duty, but a lady who was separated from her husband, travels not under her own name, who frequents public gaming tables ---

BECKY:

I swear it was the first time in my life.

DOBBIN:

----is not a fit companion for Mrs. Osborne and her son. I may add that there are people in this town who know you, Mrs. Crawley, and who profess to know things regarding your conduct about which I don't even wish to speak before, before Mrs. Osborne.

AMELIA:

May I remind you, Colonel Dobbin, that Rebecca is my oldest friend!

DOBBIN:

She was not always your friend, Amelia! I remember a night in Brussels...

AMELIA:

Colonel Dobbin! To allude to that. It was cruel of you...

BECKY:

Is that all you have to say against me, Colonel Dobbin?

DOBBIN:

Yes, that is all!

BECKY:

A very modest and convenient sort of accusation, Colonel Dobbin. An accusation that remains unspoken! What is it that I'm accused of? Is it of being poor, forsaken or wretched that you accuse me?

AMELIA:

My poor Rebecca...

BECKY:

Let me go, Amelia. Now...at once! It is better so! It is only to suppose that I have not met you and I am no worse today than I was yesterday. It is only to suppose that the night is over and the poor wanderer is on her way...scorned for being miserable, and insulted because I am alone. Let me go! I see my stay here interferes with the plans of this gentleman.

DOBBIN:

Indeed it does, Madam, if I have any authority in this house.

AMELIA:

Authority? ....none! Rebecca, you stay with me. I won't desert you because you've been persecuted or insulted or because - because Colonel Dobbin chooses to do so. Come away, dear...if he will not go, we will!

(SOUND OF DOOR OPENING)

DOBBIN:

Amelia, will you stay a moment and speak to me?

BECKY:

(LIKE A MARTYR) He wishes to speak to you away from me, Amelia.

DOBBIN:

On my oath! It's not about you that I am going to speak. Come back, Amelia.

BECKY:

I guess you'd better.

(STEPS IN)

(SOUND OF DOOR CLOSING)

AMELIA:

Well?

DOBBIN:

I was confused when I spoke just now and I misused the word "authority".

AMELIA:

You did.

DOBBIN:

At least, Amelia, I have claims to be heard.

AMELIA:

It's very generous, isn't it, to remind me of our obligations to you?

DOBBIN:

The claims I mean are those left to me by George's father.

AMELIA:

Yes, and you insulted his memory! You did just now -- you know you did -- and I'll never forgive you...never!

DOBBIN:

Do you mean that, Amelia?

AMELIA:

Yes, I do.

DOBBIN:

Amelia, I have loved you and watched over you for fifteen years -- for fifteen years in vain. I was a fool with fond fancies. I know now what your heart is capable of. It can cling faithfully to a recollection and cherish a fancy but it can't feel such an attachment as mine deserves to mate with. (DOOR OPENS) Goodbye, Amelia. I have watched your struggle. Let it end. We are both weary of it.

AMELIA:

Am I to understand then -- that you are going away -- away -- William?

DOBBIN:

Yes, Amelia. I am going away.

AMELIA:

Forever?

DOBBIN:

Yes, Amelia, forever!

BECKY:

(FADING IN) Oh, no, you're not!

AMELIA:

Becky, you ... you haven't been ...

BECKY:

Listening at keyholes? Yes, Indeed I have ... all my life! Now then, Amelia, you come here and listen to me while I'll tell you the truth for a change ... It's time somebody did! You little idiot! You're no more fit to live in the world by yourself than a baby in arms! You must marry, or you and your precious boy will go to ruin. You must have a husband, you fool; and one of the best gentlemen I've ever seen has offered you his hand and you've rejected him, and tonight you've lost him, you silly, heartless, ungrateful little creature!

AMELIA:

Oh, I've tried, Rebecca ... I've tried to love him. Indeed I have! But I couldn't -- I couldn't forget ...

BECKY:

Forget? Forget whom?

AMELIA:

Him, Rebecca! My darling ... my poor dead George!

BECKY:

You couldn't forget him? Don't make me laugh. That selfish humbug! That low-bred Cockney dandy! That paddied booby who had neither faith nor manners nor heart, and was no more to be compared to your friend with the big feet than you are to Queen Elizabeth! Why, the man was weary of you and would have jilted you but that Dobbin forced him to keep his word. He told me so! He never cared for you. He used to sneer about you to me time after time and made love to me the week after he married you.

AMELIA:

It's false! It's false, Rebecca!

BECKY:

False, is it? Look here! Look at this note! You've seen it before ... or you should have. It was in that bouquet he gave me at the Duchess of Richmond's ball. Go on! Open it! You know his handwriting. Read it! He wrote that to me -- wanted me to run away with him -- gave it to me under your nose, you little fool -- that night before he was shot -- and it served him right!

(MUSIC)

NARRATOR:

Three days later they were married ... Goodbye, Colonel! God bless you, honest William! Farewell, dear Amelia! So, there you are. You have your happy ending, dear listener. And with that we are almost done. Joseph Sedley did not return to England with Dobbin and Amelia. The air of the Continent, he declared, was necessary for his health; so also apparently was the presence of Mrs. Rebecca Crawley who was seen in his company during the next few years in various watering places of Northern Europe. He died suddenly one day at Aix-le-Chapelle, leaving his entire property (including a substantial life insurance he had recently taken out) to his friend and invaluable attendant during sickness, Rebecca Crawley -- or Lady Crawley as she now calls herself. She has returned to England and chiefly hangs about Bath and Cheltenham where many excellent people consider her to be a most injured woman. She has her enemies -- who has not? Her life is her answer to them. She busies herself in works of piety. She goes to church and never without a footman. Her name is on all the charity lists. The destitute orange girl, the neglected washerwoman, the distressed muffin-man find in her a fast and generous friend ... And so farewell, dear listener ..... Vanitas, vanitatum ... who of us is happy in this world? Which of us has his desire, or having it is satisfied? Come, let us shut up the box and the puppets, for our play is played out!

(MUSIC)

 

(THIRD COMMERCIAL)

CHAPPELL:

You have been listening to "Vanity Fair" -- the Campbell Playhouse presentation of the story of Becky Sharp, starring Helen Hayes and Orson Welles. In a few moments Mr. Welles will return to our microphone.

(THIRD COMMERCIAL)

 

Meanwhile, I'd like to remind the mothers of children now back at school what doctors everywhere are saying -- that the day of the "cold sandwich lunch" is over. To do their best work, say doctors, children need one hot dish at noon to sustain them through the afternoon -- a dish that's nourishing, but at the same time a dish that's not heavy.

More and more mothers whose children come home for lunch are serving soup as their hot dish ... choosing very often Campbell's Vegetable Soup. Children love to spoon up the delicious vegetables in the wholesome beef stock that, together, make this vegetable soup almost a meal in itself.

Why don't you try it? I believe your child -- your whole family, for that matter -- will feel better, work better, play better -- after a lunch that includes a piping-hot bowl of Campbell's Vegetable Soup. (PAUSE)

And now, - Orson Welles.

WELLES:

Ladies and gentlemen, on each of the occasions when Miss Hayes has been our guest star this season, it has seemed to us here in the studio that she has just given her greatest performance. It seems so again to us tonight. The perfect Duchess of Towers in "Peter Ibbetson", the perfect Julie in "Liliom", the perfect "Vanessa", and now you have just heard her as Becky Sharp -- ladies and gentlemen, Miss Helen Hayes.

HAYES:

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. You know, Orson, your mentioning the parts I've played this season makes me realize suddenly something that I hadn't thought of before. In these days of long New York runs and road tours of a single play, it is becoming increasingly difficult for an actress to play any variety of parts. Thanks to the Campbell Playhouse, though, and your choice of scripts, Orson, I have been lucky enough to do what very few actresses ever have the chance to do nowadays -- to play four great and absolutely different parts in the course of one single season ... and that's very wonderful!

WELLES:

That's the way we feel about you, Helen ... I assure you that everyone here in the studio looks forward with a special pleasure to the broadcasts in which you appear with us ... And I'm glad that this isn't the last of them this winter. Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to be able to announce that in March Miss Hayes will be with us once again on the Campbell Playhouse. Until then, good night, Helen ...

HAYES:

Good night, Orson ...

WELLES:

Helen Hayes, of course, was Becky Sharp. Rawdon Crawley, her unfortunate husband, was played by the distinguished Broadway and Hollywood actor, John Hoysradt. Miss Crawley was Agnes Moorehead. Amelia was Naomi Campbell. Miss Pinkerton was Betty Garde who was also Lady Steyne. Eustace Wyatt was Pitt Crawley. Joseph Holland was George. Edgar Kent was Joe Sedley, and Mr. Dobbin, who was responsible for the happy ending, was Morgan Farley. The bad old Marquis was . . Your Obedient Servant . . . .

And now next Sunday night, ladies and gentlemen ... There appeared a few seasons ago a merry and heart-warming motion picture called, "Theodora Goes Wild". If you have ever wondered what the lady authors of those lurid novels that we all condemn and eagerly read do with their private lives, here is... or is not ... the answer. And as our guest star, and as what will certainly be for all time the most beautiful of such lady authors, we are happy to announce the appearance of that secret (oh, not so secret, really) love of all of us among the younger motion picture stars -- Miss Loretta Young. And so until then, until next Sunday and "Theodora Goes Wild", my sponsors, the makers of Campbell's Soups, and all of us here in the Campbell Playhouse remain, as always, obediently yours.

ORCHESTRA:

(REGULAR CLOSING THEME)

CHAPPELL:

The makers of Campbell's Soups join Orson Welles in inviting you to be with us in the Campbell Playhouse again next Sunday evening, when we present, by arrangement with Columbia Pictures Corporation "Theodora Goes Wild", with Miss Loretta Young as our guest star

(PAUSE FOR CANADA CUE - OUT)

 

In the meantime, if you have enjoyed tonight's presentation, won't you tell your grocer so tomorrow when you order Campbell's Vegetable Soup?

This is Ernest Chappell saying thank you, and good night.

This is the COLUMBIA BROADCASTING SYSTEM

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WABC .. NEW YORK