Mrs. Jean Arbalaid
Washington, D. C
Dear Jean:
I seem to have caught your silly top-secret and classified disease, and I have been waiting for a free day and a diplomatic pouch to sum up my various adventures. From my "guarded" cables, you know that the professor and I have been doing a Cook's Tour of the baby market. My dear sister, this kind of shopping spree does not sit at all well with me. However, I gave my word, and there you are. I will complete and deliver.
By the way, I suppose I continue to send these along to Washington, even though your "environment," as you call it, has been established. I'll do so until otherwise instructed.
There was no great difficulty in finding the professor. Being in uniform — I have since acquired an excellent British wardrobe — and having all the fancy credentials you were kind enough to supply, I went to the War Office. As they say, every courtesy was shown to Major Harry Felton, but I feel better in civilian clothes. Anyway, the professor had been working with a child reclamation project, living among the ruins of the East End, which is pretty badly shattered. He is an astonishing little man, and I have become quite fond of him. On his part, he is learning to tolerate me.
I took him to dinner — you were the lever that moved him, my dear sister. I had no idea how famous you are in certain circles. He looked at me in awe, simply because we share a mother and father.
Then I said my piece, all of it, no holds barred. I had expected your reputation to crumble into dust there on the spot, but no such thing. Goldbaum listened with his mouth and his ears and every fibre of his being. The only time he interrupted me was to question me on the Assamese girl and the Bantu boy; and very pointed and meticulous questions they were. When I had finished, he simply shook his head — not in disagreement but with sheer excitement and delight. I then asked him what his reaction to all this was.
"I need time," he said. "This is something to digest. But the concept is wonderful — daring and wonderful. Not that the reasoning behind it is so novel. I have thought of this — so many anthropologists have. But to put it into practice, young man — ah, your sister is a wonderful and remarkable woman!"
There you are, my sister. I struck while the iron was hot, and told him then and there that you wanted and needed his help, first to find the children and then to work in the environment.
"The environment," he said; "you understand that is everything, everything. But how can she change the environment? The environment is total, the whole fabric of human society, self-deluded and superstitious and sick and irrational and clinging to legends and phantasies and ghosts. Who can change that?"
So it went. My anthropology is passable at best, but I have read all your books. If my answers were weak in that department, he did manage to draw out of me a more or less complete picture of Mark and yourself. He then said he would think about the whole matter. We made an appointment for the following day, when he would explain his method of intelligence determination in infants.
We met the next day, and he explained his methods. He made a great point of the fact that he did not test but rather determined, within a wide margin for error. Years before, in Germany, he had worked out a list of fifty characteristics which he noted in infants. As these infants matured, they were tested regularly by normal methods — and the results were checked against his original observations. Thereby, he began to draw certain conclusions, which he tested again and again over the next fifteen years. I am enclosing an unpublished article of his which goes into greater detail. Sufficient to say that he convinced me of the validity of his methods. Subsequently, I watched him examine a hundred and four British infants — to come up with our first choice. Jean, this is a remarkable and brilliant man.
On the third day after I had met him, he agreed to join the project. But he said this to me, very gravely, and afterwards I put it down exactly as he said it:
"You must tell your sister that I have not come to this decision lightly. We are tampering with human souls — and perhaps even with human destiny. This experiment may fail, but if it succeeds it can be the most important event of our time — even more important and consequential than this war we have just fought. And you must tell her something else. I had a wife and three children, and they were put to death because a nation of men turned into beasts. I watched that, and I could not have lived through it unless I believed, always, that what can turn into a beast can also turn into a man. We are neither. But if we go to create man, we must be humble. We are the tool, not the craftsman, and if we succeed, we will be less than the result of our work."
There is your man, Jean, and as I said, a good deal of a man. Those words are verbatim. He also dwells a great deal on the question of environment, and the wisdom and judgement and love necessary to create this environment. I think it would be helpful if you could send me a few words at least concerning this environment you are establishing
We have now sent you four infants. Tomorrow, we leave for Rome — and from Rome to Casablanca. But we will be in Rome at least two weeks, and a communication should reach me there.
More seriously —
And not untroubled,
Harry
___________________________________________
By diplomatic pouch
Via Washington, D. C.
February 11, 1946
Mr. Harry Felton
Rome, Italy
Dear Harry:
Just a few facts here. We are tremendously impressed by your reactions to Professor Goldbaum, and we look forward eagerly to his joining us. Meanwhile, Mark and I have been working night and day on the environment. In the most general terms, this is what we plan.
The entire reservation — all eight thousand acres — will be surrounded by a wire fence and will be under army guard. Within it, we shall establish a home. There will be between thirty and forty teachers — or group parents. We are accepting only married couples who love children and who will dedicate themselves to this venture. That they must have additional qualifications goes without saying.
Within the proposition that somewhere in man's civilized development, something went wrong, we are returning to the pre-history form of group marriage. That is not to say that we will cohabit indiscriminately — but the children will be given to understand that parentage is a whole, that we are all their mothers and fathers, not by blood but by love.
We shall teach them the truth, and where we do not know the truth, we shall not teach. There will be no myths, no legends, no lies, superstitions, no premises and no religions. We shall teach love and cooperation and we shall give love and security in full measure. We shall also teach them the knowledge of mankind.
During the first nine years, we shall command the environment entirely. We shall write the books they read, and shape the history and circumstances they require. Only then, will we begin to relate the children to the world as it is.
Does it sound too simple or too presumptuous? It is all we can do, Harry, and I think Professor Goldbaum will understand that full well. It is also more than has ever been done for children before.
So good luck to both of you. Your letters sound as if you are changing, Harry — and we feel a curious process of change within us. When I put down what we are doing, it seems almost too obvious to be meaningful. We are simply taking a group of very gifted children and giving them knowledge and love. Is this enough to break through to that part of man which is unused and unknown? Well, we shall see. Bring us the children Harry, and we shall see.
With love,
Jean
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In the early spring of 1965, Harry Felton arrived in Washington and went directly to the White House. Felton had just turned fifty; he was a tall and pleasant-looking man rather lean, with greying hair. As President of the Board of Shipways, Inc. — one of the largest import and export houses in America — he commanded a certain amount of deference and respect from Eggerton, who was then Secretary of Defense. In any case, Eggerton, who was nobody's fool, did not make the mistake of trying to intimidate Felton.
Instead, he greeted him pleasantly; and the two of them with no others present, sat down in a small room in the White House, drank each other's good health and talked about things.
Eggerton proposed that Felton might know why he had been asked to Washington.
"I can't say that I do know," Felton said.
"You have a remarkable sister."
"I have been aware of that for a long time," Felton smiled.
"You are also very close-mouthed, Mr. Felton," the secretary observed. "So far as we know, not even your immediate family has ever heard of man-plus. That's a commendable trait."
"Possibly and possibly not It's been a long time."
"Has it? Then you haven't heard from your sister lately?"
"Almost a year," Felton answered.
"It didn't alarm you?"
"Should it? No, it didn't alarm me. My sister and I are very close, but this project of hers is not the sort of thing that allows for social relations. There have been long periods before when I have not heard from her. We are poor letter writers."