Nequa; or, The Problem of the Ages

by Alcanoan O. Grigsby; Mary P. Lowe

"Nothing but the natural law," said Oqua, "which impels people to do that which is the most conducive to their happiness. The people of this country do not like drudgery and they have learned by experience that in order to avoid drudgery, they must work together on a large scale, as one family, each for all and all for each. In the olden time, people in their ignorance scattered into single families consisting of a man and wife and their children. They wasted their energies in their isolated efforts, and were at the mercy of the few who had the intelligence to work together. When the masses became more intelligent they gathered into communities and co-operated with each other to make the most out of their labor and to avoid the payment of tribute to speculators who did not work at all. They soon found that they could not possibly consume all that they were able to produce and they began to work less and enjoy more."

"But," asked the Captain, "have you no arrangement by which a man and his wife could get out on these wild lands and make a home for themselves?"

"We certainly have no arrangement," said Oqua, "that would prevent their doing so. But if they should try such an experiment it would not last long. As soon as they found themselves toiling incessantly to procure a bare subsistence, while the great masses in the communities were spending eleven-twelfths of their time in the enjoyment of rest and pleasurable recreations, they would seek admission into a large communal home, where all who are willing to perform their share of the labor are welcome."

"But," said the Captain, "you say that the people of this country once lived in isolated homes. The people in the outer world do so now, and they feel that to be the best possible condition for the development of the highest qualities. How were the individualists of this country persuaded to give up their individual holdings and accept in lieu thereof a community interest in the products of their own labor?"

"They outgrew their preconceived opinions," said Oqua. "Among the reformers of the olden time none were more earnest than a large and very intelligent class of individualists, who believed that the people ought to own the land, and that the individual holder ought to pay the community for its use, in proportion to its value as land, not counting the value of the improvements. These reformers agreed to the abolition of land titles, and in accordance with the doctrines which they had promulgated long and earnestly, they took their lands in severalty and paid the community a tax for its use. As individualists, they could not object to other people forming communities and having all things in common. But when they discovered how much more they had to work than their neighbors, they were true to their own interests and joined the communities where their labor became so much more effective. They found that instead of sacrificing any of their individual rights by so doing, they actually made those rights more valuable by being relieved of drudgery. The land tax to the community was abolished in the course of time, and then any individual might take a homestead and cultivate it in his own way without being taxed for the privilege of doing so, but this right is never exercised, as it would deprive the individuals thus setting up for themselves, of free access to the common wealth of the community, and the common advantages which belong to community life. They could only enter the communal homes as guests and strangers, and while free entertainment is never refused, proud spirited individualists would never think of securing a subsistence by visiting around. They would naturally prefer doing their share of the work to create the common stock. And hence our individualists are all in our communal homes and have no desire for individual holdings of any kind. Their community interest in the common wealth is worth vastly more to them than all the wealth that they could create by individual effort."

"But," asked the Captain, "do you permit no private ownership of property at all in these communities?"

"Yes, we do," said Oqua. "All persons may accumulate property which they create by personal labor, if they wish to burden themselves with the care of it. But as there is an abundance in the common stores to supply every want, there is no motive for the private ownership of anything but personal belongings which are ordinarily of no value to anyone else. Members of the community may have anything they need out of the common stock and intelligent people would not encumber themselves with the care of more than they have a use for. The greed for the accumulation of property which I am informed is so prevalent in the outer world, if manifested here would be taken as an evidence of insanity and would be treated accordingly. It is very difficult for the average Altrurian to realize that people should ever desire to hoard up wealth which it is impossible for them to consume. But when we scan the pages of our early history at the time when legal money was the medium of exchange and the standard of value, the people made a mad scramble for money, in which they disregarded every interest of humanity."

We were now approaching a region where art and nature seemed to have united in one mighty and persistent effort to excel each other in the entrancing beauty and rugged grandeur that could be added to the picture. On either side was a broad expanse of cultivated lands, interspersed with parks, lawns and ornamented grounds, which revealed the work of the most artistic landscape gardeners. Beneath us the Cocytas meandered its way toward the distant ocean, between its wooded shores, like a shining pathway of silver, while before us the great continental divide with its towering mountain peaks piercing the clouds, closed our view towards the west. At one moment we were admiring the rugged grandeur of this lovely mountain chain and at another entranced by the beauty of the highly ornamented landscape, where art had improved upon nature. Take it all in all, the scenery presented to our view from the cabin of our airship, sailing at a height of several thousand feet, was sublime, beyond the power of words to describe.

As we neared the mountains, MacNair took charge of the ship and made a detour toward the south, which brought into view the mighty canon through which the Cocytas reaches the plain. On either side were mountain torrents dashing over the rocks on their way to join the waters of the deep flowing river. Here, nature in all her majesty revealed her titanic powers. But suddenly another scene opened upon our vision, in which art revealed itself as master of all the forces of nature. It was more like a city than anything we had seen since leaving San Francisco. And yet it was very much unlike any city I have ever seen. I was bewildered by its sudden appearance upon this wonderful panorama of nature and art which seemed to hold us spell bound.

Palatial buildings in white and silver appeared in every direction, surrounded by highly ornamented grounds. No smoke, no dust and no miserable shanties to remind us of the poverty and misery which characterized the cities of the outer world. In the distance, it presented a panorama of beauty and grandeur, more like the paintings of a gorgeous midsummer dream, than any real achievement of human skill and human taste. It was more like the fancied abode of the gods than the dwelling place of men.