- Historic Sites
The Great Oneida Love-in
Driven from Vermont, the prophet John H. Noyes and his followers formed a communistic society in central New York where they shared everything — including a belief that scientific breeding would improve their offspring
February 1969 | Volume 20, Issue 2
For thirty years the community, a placid island amid the stormy seas of society, lived its insulated life. It numbered, at its peak, three hundred members. It was undisturbed, except by invasions of visitors brought on bargain excursions by the railroads. As many as a thousand appeared on a single day, picnicking on the grounds, invading the workshops and private quarters. They were welcomed; but on their departure all the Oneidans turned to in order to collect the scatterings, to scrub out the tobacco stains on the parquet floors.
The structure, the doctrine, the persistence of Oneida made a unique social phenomenon. It was consciously a family, with Noyes as father. As Constance Noyes Robertson says, it substituted “for the small unit of home and family and individual possessions the larger unit of group-family and group-family life.” Its faith was “Bible Communism.” Though it held aloof from all churches and deconsecrated the Sabbath, it was pietistic in demanding the regeneration of society by rejecting competition, a money economy, and private ownership, whether of goods or persons. But it was not Marxian, for it made no mention of class warfare, of a revolution to come, of proletarian dictatorship.
The internal organization of the community was loose and vague, depending largely on the will of Noyes. Justice and discipline were administered informally, if at all. To provide correction, Noyes trusted chiefly to a procedure known as mutual criticism. Saint Paul had said: “Speak every man truth with his neighbor; for we are members one of another”; and the Apostle James: “Confess your faults one to another.” When an individual offered himself for criticism, or was designated from above, a committee prepared his “trial,” but any member might join in the proceedings. The trial was a game, though a serious one. The subject was informed of his secret faults, of shortcomings he had not suspected. He learned that his very virtues, on which he had nattered himself, were only disguised vices. The critics would pounce on an unpopular fellow-member with glee, seizing the opportunity to reveal to him some home truths, at the same time revealing their hidden rancors. A transcript of the proceedings was posted and often printed. The subject of this primitive psychoanalysis was likely to suffer dreadfully from his new self-knowledge. “I was shaken from center to circumference,” said one. “I was metaphorically stood upon my head and allowed to drain until all the self-righteousness had dripped out of me.” Afterward the subject felt enlightened, purified, happy. “Mutual criticism,” said Noyes, “subordinates the I-spirit to the We-spirit.” It also made the subjects, mostly brooding introspectives, for a time the center of interest and concern for the whole community. Mutual criticism, under the name of “krinopathy,” was even used as a therapeutic device to cure children’s colds, with, it was said, remarkable success.
Of the various Oneida institutions, the most fascinating to the prurient observer is the organization of sex behavior. Since the community was a single great family, there could be within it no marrying and giving in marriage. Each was married to all, Noyes insisted; every man was husband and brother to every woman. Love, far from being a sin, was holy, a sacrament; in the sexual experience one escaped from egotism and selfhood into the ecstasy of communion. Every effort must be to “abound”—one of Noyes’s favorite words. One must spend, not hoard. The human heart seldom realizes its possibilities; it “is capable of loving any number of times and any number of persons; the more it loves the more it can love.” One had only to look at surrounding society to recognize the evils of exclusive marriage, the chains binding unmatched natures, the secret adulteries, actual or of the heart, the hate-filled divorces, women’s diseases, prostitution, masturbation, licentiousness in general.
Noyes maintained that sexual love was not naturally restricted to pairs, that second marriages were often the happiest. “Men and women find universally (however the fact may be concealed) that their susceptibility to love is not burned out by one honeymoon, or satisfied by one lover.” The body should assert its rights; religion should make use of the senses as helpers of devotion. Sexual shame, the consequence of the fall of man, was factitious and irrational. “Shame ought to be banished from the company of virtue, though in the world it has stolen the very name of virtue.… Shame gives rise to the theory that sexual offices have no place in heaven. Anyone who has true modesty would sooner banish singing from heaven than sexual music.” Beware, said Noyes, of one who proclaims that he is free from sexual desire, beware of religious teachers with fondling hands. Beware especially of Dr. Josiah Gridley of Southampton, Massachusetts, who boasts that he could cany a virgin in each hand without the least stir of passion. In short, “you must not serve the lusts of the flesh; if you do you will be damned. You must not make monks of yourself; if you do you will be damned.”