Progress and Poverty, Volumes I and II / An Inquiry into the Cause of Industrial Depressions and of Increase of Want with Increase of Wealth

by Henry George

This Memorial Edition of the Writings of
Henry George is limited to one thousand
numbered copies, of which this is
No. 4

MEMORIAL EDITION
OF THE WRITINGS
OF HENRY GEORGE

Vol. I.

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 in 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.

Henry George when writing “Progress and Poverty” San Francisco, 1879

THE WRITINGS OF
HENRY GEORGE

PROGRESS AND POVERTY

AN INQUIRY INTO THE CAUSE OF INDUSTRIAL
DEPRESSIONS AND OF INCREASE
OF WANT WITH INCREASE OF WEALTH

THE REMEDY
I

NEW YORK: DOUBLEDAY
AND MCCLURE COMPANY
1898

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Copyright, 1891, by
Henry George

The De Vinne Press.

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TO THOSE WHO,
SEEING THE VICE AND MISERY THAT SPRING FROM
THE UNEQUAL DISTRIBUTION
OF WEALTH AND PRIVILEGE,
FEEL THE POSSIBILITY OF A HIGHER SOCIAL STATE
AND WOULD STRIVE FOR ITS ATTAINMENT

San Francisco, March, 1879.

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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.

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