themselves the object of serving the people, as they now assign
themselves the object of serving the authorities and the
capitalists. We might say this if men of art and science had taken
as their aim the needs of the people; but there are none such. All
scientists are busy with their priestly avocations, out of which
proceed investigations into protoplasm, the spectral analyses of
stars, and so on. But science has never once thought of what axe or
what hatchet is the most profitable to chop with, what saw is the
most handy, what is the best way to mix bread, from what flour, how
to set it, how to build and heat an oven, what food and drink, and
what utensils, are the most convenient and advantageous under
certain conditions, what mushrooms may be eaten, how to propagate
them, and how to prepare them in the most suitable manner. And yet
all this is the province of science.

I am aware, that, according to its own definition, science ought to
be useless, i.e., science for the sake of science; but surely this
is an obvious evasion. The province of science is to serve the
people. We have invented telegraphs, telephones, phonographs; but
what advances have we effected in the life, in the labor, of the
people? We have reckoned up two millions of beetles! And we have
not tamed a single animal since biblical times, when all our animals
were already domesticated; but the reindeer, the stag, the
partridge, the heath-cock, all remain wild.

Our botanists have discovered the cell, and in the cell protoplasm,
and in that protoplasm still something more, and in that atom yet
another thing. It is evident that these occupations will not end
for a long time to come, because it is obvious that there can be no
end to them, and therefore the scientist has no time to devote to