A Remembrance of Henry George

Edward McGlynn

[An address delivered at the funeral of Henry George, 31 October 1897. Reprinted in the booklet, Addresses at the Funeral of Henry George, compiled by Edmund Yardley and pubished in 1905 by The Public Publishing Company, Chicago]

This place is not devoted to religion, but to industry and art. Today it is consecrated. We stand here in the presence of a messenger. It is the messenger of death. But he appals not the heart of man. We stand upon ground made sacred by one raised up by the Father in Heaven to send messages to men - messages of truth, of righteousness, of justice, of peace, of fraternity.

He died in a struggle - not for the chair of the mayoralty of New York! Oh, no! for that was altogether too small for him. He died in a struggle upon which he had gladly, enthusiastically entered, to deal blows, and willing to take blows for the rights of man; for the teaching of universal truths; for the making of better men; to fight for a cause which would make the magnificent truths of the Declaration of Independence something more than glittering generalities.

The chair of the president of the United States were all too small for such a man! He was not merely a philosopher and a sage; he was a seer, a forerunner, a prophet; a teacher sent from God. And we can say of him as the Scriptures say: "There was a man sent of God whose name was John." And I believe that I mock not those sacred Scriptures when I say: "There was a man sent of God whose name was Henry George."

[The tension on the audience which had been gradually increasing as the reverend orator delivered His impressive periods, now gave way. Some moments before, when Dr. McGlynn was first seen to enter the hall, there had been a slight demonstration, instantly suppressed by a murmured "H-u-s-h" from those who thought of the presence of the dead. But now, to those of his followers who believed in him as seer and prophet, Henry George was not dead but living. They forgot the slain; they remembered only the glory of the fight. When the tumultuous hand-clapping had ceased, Dr. McGlynn continued.]

We know the noble, the eloquent man who lies here before us. We have heard the utterances of the great and good men who have preceded me. We have heard with peculiar delight, I am sure, from the venerable Dr. Abbott, of the Christlike character of the man. It brings to my mind a momentous occasion eleven years ago when there were assembled in another hall in this city a great body of men - men of all professions, lawyers, doctors, artisans, laboring men - to ratify the nomination made by the Central Labor Union of this same man for the mayoralty of New York. I said then, and I have never regretted it, and I have heard with a peculiar gladness from the lips of Dr. Abbott that he was, as I then said, a man of a Christlike heart.

It was a peculiar providence of God which took this lad Henry George - a lad with so little schooling, this printer's boy at the case, this sailor before the mast, this tramp printer looking for occupation to maintain his wife - and made him the instrument for good which he became, the messenger of a great truth. The magnificent brain in that dome-like head puzzled over economic truths, while his heart was torn with grief at the sight of the poverty, the misery, the crime he met with on every side. He asked the questions: "Oh, Lord, how long?" "Why does the victory always seem to go to the strong?" "Why are the strong permitted to rob and exterminate the masses?" "Is this God's kingdom on earth?"

Yes. That wondrous brain was filled with an idea. It was battling with these questions while his tender heart was made sore because of the inadequate answers he was receiving from the petty text-books of political economy, books whose authors confessed their ignorance, and caused political economy to be called the dismal and dreary, science.

Surely it was a divine providence which raised up such a man, so that dying as he has died the whole world is shocked. In all civilized lands, in many half-civilized lands, wherever the name of Henry George has gone, the world's heart has ceased to beat for the moment. His works have been read by millions of people. In every language and in every clime Henry George speaks to all humanity today.

Why is this vast gathering assembled here today, and a vastly greater crowd are outside seeking admission? Why is it that vast multitudes have come from early morn, from almost before the rising of the sun, to gaze mournfully and lovingly on his face, and to again contemplate the noble character of the man? It is because there was a man sent from God, and his name was Henry George. [Applause.]

Indeed it were a pity that such a man should be elected mayor of New York! It was well that he was spared the ignoble strife and the dull care of a mere administrative office. It would indeed be a pity that he should have been compelled to bear the petty crosses, the unending strife, the unceasing troubles of such a position. I repeat, no administrative office was worthy of the spirit of this seer, of this poet, of this prophet, of this messenger from God. [Applause.] He died just when he should have died, just as he ought to have died.

It is a great thing to be a preacher, to hold the hearts and minds of men. If we follow with our hearts what he has said, it will bring us to the fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of man. It is a greater and better thing to be an apostle. It is still greater to add to the character of an apostle that of a crusader. But it is the greatest and best thing in the preacher, the apostle or the crusader, to have died for his faith. At first, when an apostle preached Christ's faith, men were disposed to regard him as unpractical, as a visionary, as asking too much of men; and it was only by dying for their faith that the faith of the crusaders of old began to live. Henry George by dying for his faith has become a martyr. [Great applause.]

He had the lion's heart, the heart of a hero. But like all great or lion-hearted men there was added to him much of the woman. He had the patience, the forgiveness of the sweetest, gentlest and best woman. It was that loving heart of his that grieved over the sin and misery that he saw. How could it all be under the guidance of a loving Father? But when he had solved the riddle, as no other man had been able to solve it, and discovered the truth, the cause of all that misery and sin, then he was at peace. In the concluding chapter of that immortal work of his he makes a confession and a profession, and says that the faith that was dead within him had revived. "Yes," he says, "God is the best of fathers. He has provided well for his children; he has provided lavishly for them; he has filled the world with his bounties; he has spread a bountiful feast for all; he has loaded his table so well that there is enough for all around it. It is not the niggardliness of nature, but the criminality and stupidity of man that makes the apparent scarcity." [Tremendous applause.]

That immortal work was enough, and it is impossible for a man with a heart that has not been hardened, to read it without arising from its perusal better and purer, or else becoming a worse man through hardening his heart to the truths contained therein. [Applause.] That book is the work of a sage, of a seer, of a philosopher, of a poet. It is not merely political philosophy. It is a poem; it is a prophecy; it is a prayer.

This man, so peculiarly sent of God, not only to this country and this generation, but to all countries and all generations yet to come, should he occupy the commonplace office of mayor of New York, or president of the United States?

We hope and pray for that reign of peace foretold by the prophets, the kingdom of heaven. That surely must be preceded by the kingdom of God on earth. In that day all will honor the patriotism of this man, and the name of Henry George will be revered. [Great applause.] Then there will be a parliament of men. There shall be heard this world-wide English speech of ours. There will be praise for those who brought about the reign of brotherhood, the reign of peace. And there, when the names of the mayors of New York and the presidents of the United States will be but little more than catalogues of names, or called to memory only by an allusion in history, in a niche in one of the walls of the hall of that parliament of nations, there shall be found honored, loved and revered the name of Henry George. [Tremendous applause.]