The truth that I have tried to make clear will not find easy acceptance. If that could be, it would have been accepted long ago. If that could be, it would never have been obscured. But it will find friends - those who will toil for it; suffer for it; if need be, die for it. This is the power of Truth.

Will it at length prevail? Ultimately, yes. But in our own times, or in times of which any memory of us remains, who shall say?

Political economy has been called the dismal science
and, as currently taught, it is hopeless and despairing....
Freed, as I have tried to free her, in her own proper
symmetry, political economy is radiant with hope.
For a man who, seeing the want and misery, the ignorance and brutishness caused by unjust social institutions, sets himself to right them in so far as he has strength, there is disappointment and bitterness. So it has been of old time. So is it even now. But the bitterest thought - and it sometimes comes to the best and bravest - is that of the hopelessness of the effort, the futility of the sacrifice. To how few of those who sow the seed is it given to see it grow, or even with certainty to know that it will grow.

Let us not disguise it. Over and over again has the standard of Truth and Justice been raised in this world. Over and over again has it been trampled down - oftentimes in blood. If justice has but to raise her head to have injustice flee before her, how should the wail of the oppressed so long go up?

But for those who see Truth and would follow her, for those who recognize justice and would stand for her, success is not the only thing. Success! Why, falsehood has often that to give; and injustice often has that to give. Must not Truth and justice have something to give that is their own by proper right - theirs in essence, and not by accident?

That they have, and that here and now, everyone who has felt their exaltation knows. But sometimes the clouds sweep down. It is sad, sad reading, the lives of the men who would have done something for their fellows. To Socrates they gave the hemlock; Gracchus they killed with sticks and stones; and One, greatest and purest of all, they crucified.

I have in this inquiry followed the course of my own thought. When, in mind, I set out on it I had no theory to support, no conclusions to prove. Only, when I first realized the squalid misery of a great city, it appalled and tormented me, and would not let me rest, for thinking of what caused it and how it could be cured.

But out of this inquiry has come to me something I did not think to find and a faith that was dead revives.

The yearning for a further life is natural and deep. It grows with intellectual growth, and perhaps none really feel it more than those who have begun to see how great is the universe and how infinite are the vistas that every advance in knowledge opens before us - vistas that would require nothing short of eternity to explore. But in the mental atmosphere of our times, to the great majority of men on whom mere creeds have lost their hold, it seems impossible to look on this yearning save as a vain and childish hope that arises from man's egotism, having not the slightest ground or warrant but on the contrary seeming inconsistent with positive knowledge.

When we come to trace and to analyse the ideas that thus destroy the hope of a future life, we shall I think find that they have their source, not in any revelations of physical science, but in certain teachings of political and social science that have deeply permeated thought in all directions. They have their root in the doctrines that there is a tendency to the production of more human beings than can be provided for, that vice and misery are the result of natural laws and the means by which advance goes on, and that human progress is by a slow race development. These doctrines, which have been generally accepted as approved truth, do what (except as scientific interpretations have been coloured by them) the extensions of physical science do not do - they reduce the individual to insignificance; they destroy the idea that there can be in the ordering of the universe any regard for his existence, or any recognition of what we call moral qualities.

It is difficult to reconcile the idea of human immortality with the idea that nature wastes men by constantly bringing them into being where there is no room for them. It is impossible to reconcile the idea of an intelligent and beneficent Creator with the belief that the wretchedness and degradation that are the lot of such a large proportion of human kind result from His enactments. And the idea that man mentally and physically is the result of slow modifications perpetuated by heredity irresistibly suggests the idea that it is the race life and not the individual life that is the object of human existence. Thus has vanished with many of us, and is still vanishing with more of us, that belief which in the battles and ills of life affords the strongest support and deepest consolation.

In the inquiry through which we have passed we have met these doctrines and seen their fallacy. We have seen that population does not tend to outrun subsistence. We have seen that the waste of human powers and the prodigality of human suffering do not spring from natural laws, but from the ignorance and selfishness of men in refusing to conform to natural laws. We have seen that human progress is not by altering the nature of men but that, on the contrary, the nature of men seems, generally speaking, always the same.

Thus the nightmare which is banishing from the modern world the belief in a future life is destroyed. It is not that all difficulties are removed - for turn which way we may, we come to what we cannot comprehend; it is that difficulties are removed which seemed conclusive and insuperable. And thus hope springs up.

But this is not all.

Political Economy has been called the dismal science and, as currently taught, it is hopeless and despairing. But this, as we have seen, is solely because she has been degraded and shackled, her truths dislocated, her harmonies ignored, the word she would utter gagged in her mouth, and her protest against wrong turned into an endorsement of injustice. Freed, as I have tried to free her - in her own proper symmetry, Political Economy is radiant with hope.

For properly understood, the laws that govern the production and distribution of wealth show that the want and injustice of the present social state are not necessary. On the contrary, they show that a social state is possible in which poverty would bc unknown and all the better qualities and higher powers of human nature would have opportunity for full development.

And further than this, when we see that social development is governed neither by a special providence nor by a merciless fate, but by law at once unchangeable and beneficent; when we see that human will is the great factor, and that taking men in the aggregate their condition is as they make it; when we see that economic law and moral law are essentially one, and that the truth that the intellect grasps after toilsome effort is but that which the moral reaches by a quick intuition; then a flood of light breaks in upon the problem of individual life. Those countless millions like ourselves, who on this earth of ours have passed and still are passing, with their joys and sorrows, their toil and their striving, their aspirations and their fears, their strong perceptions of things deeper than sense, their common feelings that form the basis even of the most divergent creeds - their little lives do not seem so much like meaningless waste.

The great fact that science in all its branches shows is the universality of law. Wherever he can trace it, whether in the fall of an apple or in the revolution of binary suns, the astronomer sees the working of the same law, operating in the minutest divisions in which we may distinguish space as it operates in the immeasurable distances with which his science deals. Out of that which lies beyond his telescope comes a moving body and again it disappears. So far as he can trace its course the law is ignored. Does he say that this is an exception? On the contrary, he says that this is merely a part of its orbit that he has seen; that beyond the reach of his telescope the law holds good. He makes his calculations, and after centuries they are proved.

If we trace out the laws that govern human life in society, we find that in the largest as in the smallest community they are the same. We find that what seem at first sight like divergences and exceptions are but manifestations of the same principles. And we find that everywhere we can trace the social law, it runs into and conforms with the moral law; that in the life of a community, justice infallibly brings its reward and injustice its punishment.

The laws that Political Economy discovers, like the facts and relations of physical nature, harmonize with what seems to be the law of mental development - not a necessary and involuntary progress, but a progress in which the human will is an initiatory force. But in life, as we are cognizant of it, mental development can go but a little way. The mind hardly begins to awake ere the bodily powers decline. It becomes only dimly conscious of the vast fields before it, and only begins to learn and use its strength, to recognize relations and extend its sympathies, when, with the death of the body, it passes away. Unless there is something more, there seems here a break, a failure. Whether it be a Humboldt or a Herschel, a Moses who looks from Pisgah, a Joshua who leads the host, or one of those sweet and patient souls who in narrow circles live radiant lives, there seems, if mind and character here developed can go no farther, a purposelessness inconsistent with what we can see of the linked sequence of the universe.

By a fundamental law of our minds - the law, in fact, upon which Political Economy relies in all her deductions - we cannot conceive of a means without an end, a contrivance without an object. Unless man himself may rise to or bring forth something higher, his existence is unintelligible. So strong is this metaphysical necessity that those who deny to the individual anything more than this life are compelled to transfer the idea of perfectibility to the race. But as we have seen (and the argument could have been made much more complete) there is nothing whatever to show any essential race improvement. Human progress is not the improvement of human nature. The advances in which civilization consists are not secured in the constitution of man, but in the constitution of society. They are thus not fixed and permanent, but may at any time be lost - nay, are constantly tending to be lost.

What then is the meaning of life - of life absolutely and inevitably bounded by death? To me it seems only intelligible as the avenue and vestibule to another life. Out of the chain of thought we have been following there seems to rise vaguely a glimpse, a shadowy gleam, of ultimate relations, the endeavour to express which inevitably falls into type and allegory.

Look around today.

Lo! here, now, in our civilized society, the old allegories yet have a meaning, the old myths are still true. Into the Valley of the Shadow of Death yet often leads the path of duty, through the streets of Vanity Fair walk Christian and Faithful, and on Greatheart's armour ring the clanging blows. Ormuzd still fights with Ahriman - the Prince of Light with the Powers of Darkness. He who will hear, to him the clarions of the battle call.

How they call, and call, and call, till the heart swells that hears them! Strong soul and high endeavour, the world needs them now. Beauty still lies imprisoned, and iron wheels go over the good and true and beautiful that might spring from human lives.

And they who fight with Ormuzd, though they may not know each other - somewhere, sometime, will the muster roll be called.



Henry George was born in Philadelphia on 2nd September, 1839. Passing from the public school into the high school, he remained in the latter only five months. He worked for two years as an office boy, after which at the age of sixteen he shipped as a sailor before the mast on board an East Indiaman. Having made a voyage as far as Australia and back, he learned the printers' trade in Philadelphia and then went to sea again.

His voyages brought him to California. From San Francisco he worked his way to British Columbia to join the gold-seeking adventurers of 1858 on the Frazer River. The expedition failed and he returned to San Francisco, where he soon afterwards married and where all his children were born.

For many years he endured galling poverty, which could not be charged to indolence or thriftlessness. He was a hard worker, and was given to no vices unless smoking is a vice. As he began to use his pen, however, his circumstances improved. For this change he was well equipped. During all the years since his withdrawal from the Philadelphia High School he had read widely, and had trained himself by close study and arduous practice in clear and forcible as well as inspired writing on serious subjects.

In a visit he paid to New York in the late '60's, his mind was fully awakened to the enormity of the social problem. As the centre of American progress, New York was to his patriotic imagination the place where the beneficent effects of progress should be most pronounced and most plainly visible. Whoever knows New York from the inside can appreciate the depth of his disappointment. Material prosperity he found, not only up to his expectations but far beyond them. Wealth was abundant and comfort luxurious. But the wealth was not distributed; the comfort was not diffused. At one extreme were fabulous riches; at the other was poverty so degrading that its victims had lost all hope of escape and much of the desire for it; while between the two were a harrowing fear and a paralysing dread of poverty which seemed worse if possible than poverty itself.

George's literary abilities were recognized by Noah Brooks, who called him in 1866 from a printer's case on the San Francisco Times to a reporter's desk. In a little while the new reporter had become an editorial writer for the paper; and, under the editor-in-chief who succeeded Brooks, had risen in six months to the post of managing editor. He wrote also for the magazines, and an article in the Overland Monthly in 1868 gave the first indication of the views with which his name was later to be associated.

At the end of 1871 George with the aid of William M. Hinton established the San Francisco Evening Post. It was the first paper west of the Rockies to sell at one cent. The success of the newspaper was so great that the resources of the proprietors were strained, and with their limited capital they were unable to enlarge the plant. A millionaire senator offered to lend the money required. After the paper had been running successfully for four years, at a time of temporary financial stringency in San Francisco, the senator demanded instant repayment of his loan or immediate possession of the paper. The reason for this was not a business one. Tight as money was with others it was not so with him. He offered to continue George in the editorship on condition that he reversed its policy toward the Pacific railroad ring and supported that monopoly. George declined the offer.

Later, Governor Irwin appointed him to a post in a State department. It gave him comparative leisure, and he applied himself industriously from August, 1877, till March, 1879, to the writing of Progress and Poverty.

At first his manuscript was rejected by publishers, and he was compelled to resort to an author's edition, much of the type of which he himself set. This brought at last one publisher's offer in the United States, and that brought one from England. The book went slowly at first but soon gained headway, and within four years it had sold to the extent of hundreds of thousands of copies in both countries. It has been translated into nearly every civilized tongue.

The Irish Land Question, now called The Land Question, soon followed. After that Social Problems appeared. This is a series of essays which were first published in Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper. His next book was Protection or Free Trade. It had been delayed by the loss of the manuscript when the first draft was nearly completed. Some years later came The Condition of Labour, an open letter to Pope Leo XIII in reply to his Encyclical on Labour. His next book was A Perplexed Philosopher, a criticism of Herbert Spencer and a review of his philosophy in so far as it concerned the land question. Finally, but not until after the author's death, The Science of Political Economy was published by his son.

In 1881 George moved from San Francisco to New York. Afterwards he travelled through England, Scotland, Ireland and Australia, speaking before large audiences in all those countries.

In 1886 he became the candidate of the labour organizations of New York for Mayor of that city. His nomination was made in response to a petition signed by 34,000 voters. Alarmed by this, the two branches of the Democratic Party sank their differences to nominate Abram S. Hewitt. The election resulted in a victory for Hewitt with 90,552 votes. Theodore Roosevelt, afterwards President of the United States, received 60,435; George received at least 68,110 - but his friends had good reason to believe that the corrupt electoral machine had him counted out.

In 1897 on the creation of Greater New York he became again the candidate of the labour organizations to oppose Tammany Hall. The incessant exertions of writing, travelling and speaking had greatly enfeebled him. His doctor warned him that the campaign in all probability would be fatal to him. Yet he went into the fight partly because the working men urged him to it, and partly because he believed that his candidacy would save the city from dishonour and would promote the cause that was always uppermost in his mind.

The strain was too great. Early in the morning of 29th October, 1897, four days before the election, the end came. He had spoken at several meetings the previous evening. At one the chairman introduced him as "the great friend of labour." George was no demagogue. He played neither to the gallery nor to the boxes. Coming feebly forward, his voice gaining power, however, and expanding till it filled the hall, he exclaimed: "I have never claimed to be a special friend of labour. Let us have done with this call for special privileges for labour. Labour does not want special privileges. I have never advocated nor asked for special rights or special sympathy for working men. What I stand for is the equal rights of all men."

This account is mainly condensed from The Prophet of San Francisco, by Louis F. Post, Chicago, 1904.


In the original and complete edition of Progress and Poverty, each main section had a quotation as heading. Condensing the complete edition made it impossible to retain these quotations in their place. They are here collected to make this anthology.

Make for thyself a definition or description of the thing which is presented to thee, so as to see distinctly what kind of a thing it is, in its substance, in its nudity, in its complete entirety, and tell thyself its proper name, and the names of the things of which it has been compounded, and into which it will be resolved. For nothing is so productive of elevation of mind as to be able to examine methodically and truly every object which is presented to thee in life, and always to look at things so as to see at the same time what kind of universe this is, and what kind of use everything performs it, and what value everything has with reference to the whole, and what with reference to man, who is a citizen of the highest city, of which all other cities are like families; what each thing is, and of what it is composed, and how long it is the nature of this thing to endure.
- Marcus Aurelius Antoninus

There must be refuge! Men
Perished in winter winds till one smote fire
From flint stones coldly hiding what they held,
The red spark - treasured from the kindling sun;
They gorged on flesh like wolves, till one sowed corn,
Which grew a weed, yet makes the life of man;
They mowed and babbled till some tongue struck speech,
And patient fingers framed the lettered sound.
What good gift have my brothers, but it came
From search and strife and loving sacrifice?
- Edwin Arnold

         Never yet
Share of Truth was vainly set
In the world's wide fallow:
After hands shall sow the seed,
After hands, from hill and mead,
Reap the harvests yellow. - Whittier

Ye build! ye build! but ye enter not in,
Like the tribes whom the desert devoured in their sin;
From the land of promise ye fade and die,
Ere its verdure gleams forth on your wearied eye.
- Mrs. Sigourney

A new and fair division of the goods and rights of this world should be the main object of those who conduct human affairs. - De Tocqueville

Are God and nature then at strife
That nature lends such evil dreams?
So careful of the type she seems,
So careless of the single life.
- Tennyson

The machines that are first invented to perform any particular movement are always the most complex, and succeeding artists generally discover that with fewer wheels, with fewer principles of motion than had originally been employed, the same effects may be more easily produced. The first philosophical systems, in the same manner, are always the most complex, and a particular connecting chain, or principle, is generally thought necessary to unite every two seemingly disjointed appearances; but it often happens that one great connecting principle is afterward found to be sufficient to bind together all the discordant phenomena that occur in a whole species of things.
- Adam Smith, Essay on the Principles which Lead and Direct Philosophical Inquiries, as Illustrated by the History of Astronomy.

Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers,
Ere the sorrow comes with years?
They are leaning their young heads against their mothers,
And that cannot stop their tears.
The young lambs are bleating in the meadows:
The young birds are chirping in the nest,
The young fawns are playing with the shadows;
The young flowers are blowing towards the west -
But the young, young children, O my brothers,
They are weeping bitterly!
They are weeping in the playtime of the others,
In the country of the free.
- Mrs. Browning

To whomsoever the soil at any time belongs, to him belongs the fruits of it. White parasols, and elephants mad with pride are the flowers of a grant of land.
- Sir Wm. Jones, Translation of an Indian grant of land, found at Tanna.

Why hesitate? Ye are full-bearded men,
With God-implanted will, and courage if
Ye dare but show it. Never yet was will
But found some way or means to work it out,
Nor e'er did Fortune frown on him who dared.
Shall we in presence of this grievous wrong,
In this supremest moment of all time,
Stand trembling, cowering, when with one bold stroke
These groaning millions might be ever free?
And that one stroke so just, so greatly good,
So level with the happiness of man,
That all the angels will applaud the deed. - E. R. Taylor

He that is to follow philosophy must be a freeman in mind.
- Ptolemy

The widow is gathering nettles for her children's dinner; a perfumed seigneur, delicately lounging in the Oeil de Boeuf, hath an alchemy whereby he will extract from her the third nettle, and call it rent. - Carlyle

Justice is a relation of congruity which really subsists between two things. This relation is always the same, whatever being considers it, whether it be god, or an angel, or lastly a man. - Montesquieu

What in me is dark
Illumine, what is low raise and support;
That to the height of this great argument
I may assert eternal Providence
And justify the ways of God to men.
- Milton

Instead of the thorn shall come up the fir tree, and instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle tree. And they shall build houses and inhabit them; and they shall plant vineyards and eat the fruit of them. They shall not build and another inhabit; they shall not plant and another eat.
- Isaiah

The days of the nations bear no trace
Of all the sunshine so far foretold;
The cannon speaks in the teacher's place -
The age is weary with work and gold,
And high hopes wither, and memories wane;
On hearths and altars the fires are dead;
But that brave faith hath not lived in vain -
And this is all that our watcher said.
- Frances Brown

I cannot play upon any stringed instrument; but I can tell you how of a little village to make a great and glorious city.
- Themistocles

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