ssian
peasant, an utterly unlettered man! All these enormous steamers,
barges--whose are they? Ours! Who has invented them? We! Everything
here is ours, everything here is the fruit of our minds, of our Russian
shrewdness, and our great love for action! Nobody has assisted us in
anything! We ourselves exterminated piracy on the Volga; at our own
expense we hired troops; we exterminated piracy and sent out on the
Volga thousands of steamers and various vessels over all the thousands
of miles of her course. Which is the best town on the Volga? The one
that has the most merchants. Whose are the best houses in town? The
merchants! Who takes the most care of the poor? The merchant! He
collects groshes and copecks, and donates hundreds of thousands of
roubles. Who has erected the churches? We! Who contributes the most
money to the government? The merchants! Gentlemen! to us alone is the
work dear for its own sake, for the sake of our love for the arrangement
of life, and we alone love order and life! And he who talks about us
merely talks, and that's all! Let him talk! When the wind blows the
willow rustles; when the wind subsides the willow is silent; and neither
a cart-shaft, nor a broom can be made out of the willow; it is a useless
tree! And from this uselessness comes the noise. What have they, our
judges, accomplished; how have they adorned life? We do not know it.
While our work is clearly evident! Gentlemen of the merchant class!
Seeing in you the foremost men in life, most industrious and loving your
labours, seeing in you the men who can accomplish and have accomplished
everything, I now heartily, with respect and love for you, lift my
brimming goblet, to the glorious, strong-souled, industrious Russian
merchant class. Long may you live! May you succeed for the glory of
Mother Russia! Hurrah!"

The shrill, jarring shout of Mayakin called forth a deafening,
triumphant roar from the merchants. All these big, fleshy bodies,
aroused by wine and by the old man's words, stirred and uttered from
their chests such a unanimous, massive shout that everything around them
seemed to tremble and to quake.

"Yakov! you are the trumpet of the Lord!" cried Zubov, holding out his
goblet toward Mayakin.

Overturning the chairs, jostling the tables, thus causing the dishes and
the bottles to rattle and fall, the merchants, agitated, delighted, some
with tears in their eyes, rushed toward Mayakin with goblets in their
hands.

"Ah!