"'WILL A TIME NEVER COME WHEN WE SHALL BE FREE?'"
A tall athletic-looking man with a broad smooth-shaven face, and hair worn rather long, seemed to be listened to with greatest attention. He was plainly from some other district, for his attire was different from that of his companions. It consisted of felt trousers, the seams piped with red, a linen shirt and a sheepskin waistcoat with the wool inside, heavily embroidered on the leather side. His shoes were of soft leather, laced with rawhide thongs across the ankle, and he wore a low, black hat decorated with a red ribbon band.
"I was living in Turciansky Sv. Martin, our one national center, when the effort was made to establish a cellulose factory there," he was saying. "It was one of the many efforts on the part of Slovaks to be more prosperous and progressive. Like other citizens, I invested considerable money in it. The building was erected and the machinery installed and we were awaiting our license from the government, when word came that it could not be given to the present management. We were dumbfounded, although we understood. We were not to be allowed to run our own factory because we did not help oppress our fellow citizens; because we were loyal to our Slovak traditions and to our Slovak land.
"We did not give in without making an effort to secure justice. But, after several months, we knew that we were defeated. During all this time we had not been allowed to do any work in the factory. One thing, finally, the authorities permitted, and that was to run the costly machinery once a week, so that it should not grow rusty. Of course we had to sell, and at a heavy loss to people eagerly awaiting to develop what we had started."
The peasants near nodded their appreciation of the conditions. One more excitable than his fellows jumped up.
"Will a time never come when we shall be free? Will a time never come when the world recognizes the crime of using force to make people false to their own traditions?" he exclaimed. "To outsiders the Magyars boast of their liberal constitution, of the freedom granted to other nations in the kingdom. We who have no opportunities, who are not allowed a single higher school of our own, nor even a single Magyar Higher School where our language is taught, know what a lie this is. And what advantage is the Magyar language to our children outside of Hungary? Go even to Vienna or anywhere else in the monarchy, and try to make yourself understood with it! You'll see! And we were here before the Magyars; we helped them to know the glorious religion of Jesus Christ; we fought and bled as well as they for our native land." Here his voice changed curiously and a sort of exaltation lit up his face as he said softly: "We must have faith." Then he began to repeat some lines taken from the great Slovak poet Kollar's "Slavy Dcera" (The Daughter of Slava).
"Stop! It is holy ground on which you tread.
Son of the Tatra, raise your head toward heaven,
Or rather guide your steps towards that oak tree,
Which yet defies destructive Time.
But worse than Time is man who has placed his iron scepter on thy neck, O Slava.
Worse than wild War, more fearful than Thunder, than Fire,
Is the man who, blinded by hate, rages against his own race."
Then again:
"He who is worthy of liberty, respects the liberty of all.
He who forges irons to enslave others, is himself a slave.
Be it that he fetters the language or the hands of others,
It is the same, he proves himself unable to respect the rights of others."
And once more: