e wind, sends
its tell-tale fragrance on before.

Socialism and Anarchism are the two extremes of political thought; they
are parts of the same dung, in the sense that the terminal points of a
road are parts of the same road. Between them, about midway, lies
the system that we have the happiness to endure. It is a "blend" of
Socialism and Anarchism in about equal parts: all that is not one is the
other. Everything serving the common interest, or looking to the welfare
of the whole people, is socialistic in the strictest sense of the word
as understood by the Socialist Whatever tends to private advantage or
advances an individual or class interest at the expense of a public
one, is anarchistic. Cooperation is Socialism; competition is Anarchism.
Competition carried to its logical conclusion (which only cooperation
prevents or can prevent) would leave no law in force no property
possible no life secure.

Of course the words "cooperation" and "competition" are not here used in
a merely industrial and commercial sense; they are intended to cover
the whole field of human activity. Two voices singing a duet--that is
cooperation--Socialism. Two voices singing each a different tune and
trying to drown each other--that is competition--Anarchism: each is a
law unto itself--that is to say, it is lawless. Everything that ought
to be done the Socialist hopes to do by associated endeavor, as an army
wins battles; Anarchism is socialistic in its means only: by cooperation
it tries to render cooperation impossible--combines to kill combination.
Its method says to its purpose: "Thou fool!"

II.

Everything foretells the doom of authority. The killing of kings is
no new industry; it is as ancient as the race. Always and everywhere
persons in high place have been the assassin's prey. We have ourselves
lost three Presidents by murder, and will doubtless lose many another
before the book of American history is closed. If anything is new in
this activity of the regicide it is found in the choice of victims. The
contemporary "avenger" slays, not the merely great, but the good and
the inoffensive--an American President who had struck the chains from
millions of slaves; a Russian Czar who against the will and work of his
own powerful nobles had freed their serfs; a French President from whom
the French people had received nothing but good; a powerless Austrian
Empress, whose weight of sorrows touched the world to tears; a blameless
I