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Buchmaier, being first called in, said, holding the door in his hand, “Good-morning, your honor;” and then, turning to the others, “Come in, men: we have a common grievance I’m not going to speak for myself alone.”

Before the judge could interfere, the room was filled with farmers, each carrying an axe on his left arm. Buchmaier stepped up to the clerk, and said, stretching out his hand, “Write down word for word what I say; I want them to read it at the Provincial Government.” Then, after passing his hand twice through his shirt-collar, he rested his hand upon the green baize of the table, and continued:–

“All respect and honor to you, judge: the king has sent you, and we must obey you, as the law requires. The king is a good and a true man, and we know it isn’t his will to have the farmers knocked about like dumb cattle or boxed on the ears like children. But the little lords and gentlemen that hang by one another from the top to the bottom are mighty fond of commanding and giving orders: one of these days they will set it down in notes how the hens must cackle over their eggs. I’m going to lift the lid off the pan and just give you a bit of my mind. I know it won’t do any particular good just now; but, once for all, it must be said: it has been tickling my throat too long, and I’m going to get it out of me. The commune is to be put on the shelf altogether, and all things to be done in the rooms of you office-holders. Then why don’t you sow and reap in the rooms too? Such a little whippersnapper of a clerk twists a whole town-housefull of farmers on his fingers, and before you know it you find clerk after clerk saddled upon us for a squire: then it is all fixed to the liking of you pen-and-ink fellows. What is true is true, and there must be law and order in the land; but the first thing is to see whether we can’t get along better without tape-fellows than with them; and then we don’t carry our heads under our elbows, either, and we can mind our own business, if we can’t talk law-Latin. There must be studied men and scholars to overlook matters; but, first, the citizens must arrange their own affairs themselves.”

“Come to the point,” said the judge, impatiently.

“It’s all to the point. You’ve ordered and commanded so much that there’s nothing left to be ordered or commanded, and now you begin to prevent and precaution: you’ll end by putting a policeman under every tree to keep it from quarrelling with the wind and drinking too much when it rains. If you go on this way a body might as well ride away on the cow’s back. You want to take every thing from us: now, there happens to be one thing our minds are made up to hold on to.” Raising his axe and gnashing his teeth, he continued:–“And if I must split every door between me and the king with this very axe, I will not give it out of my hand. From time immemorial it is our right to carry axes; and if they are to be taken from us the assembly of the hundred must do it, or the estates of the realm; and before them we shall have a hearing also. But why do you want to take them from us? To protect the forests? You have woodrangers, and laws and penalties, for that, and they fall alike on the noble and the beggar. How many teeth must a poor farmer have to eat potatoes with? Pluck out the rest, so that he may not be tempted to steal meat. How do you come to let the dogs run about with their fangs? When a boy is eight or nine years old he has his knife in his pocket, and if he cuts his finger it’s his own fault, and there’s an end; if he hurts anybody else he gets his fingers chowsed. Who told you that we are worse than little children, and you our teachers and guardians? You gentlemen seem to think that if it wasn’t for you I’d jump out of the window this minute and dash my brains out. In all the main matters of life everybody must care for himself, and every commune for itself, and not you lords and gentlemen. Lords, did I say? Our servants you are, and we are the lords. You always think we are here on your account, so that you may have something to give orders about: we pay you that there may be order in the land, and not for the purpose of being bothered by you. You are the servants of the State, and we, the citizens, are the State itself. If we must look for our rights, we don’t mean to go to the spout, but to the well; and I will sooner lay my head on the block and let the hangman chop it off with my axe than give up my axe to an office-holder against my will. There! I’ve done.”