The Bridge on the Drina - PDFDrive.com Page 11

  bridge countless times from one bank to the other. The children rushed across

  while their elders walked slowly, deep in conversation or watching from every

  point the new views open to them from the bridge. The helpless, the lame and

  the sick were brought on litters, for no one wanted to be left out or renounce

  theirshareinthiswonder.Eventheleastofthetownsmenfeltasifhispowers

  were suddenly multiplied, as if some wonderful, superhuman exploit was

  broughtwithinthemeasureofhispowersandwithinthelimitsofeverydaylife,

  as if besides the well-known elements of earth, water and sky, one more were

  open to him, as if by some beneficent effort each one of them could suddenly

  realize one of his dearest desires, that ancient dream of man —to go over the

  waterandtobemasterofspace.

  The Turkish youths formed a round dance, a kolo, around the cauldrons

  of halva and then led the dance across the bridge, since it seemed to them that they were flying and not treading the solid earth. The dance wound round in

  circlesaboutthe kapia, thedancersbeatingtheirheelsandstampingonthenew

  flagstones as if to test the stoutness of the bridge. Around that winding,

  circling kolo ofyoungbodiestirelesslyleapingupanddowninthesamerhthym,

  thechildrenplayed,runninginandoutbetweenthedancingfeetasifthrougha

  movingfence,standinginthecentreofthis kolo whichwasbeingdancedforthe

  firsttimeintheirlivesonthatbridgeaboutwhichtherehadbeensomuchtalk

  for years, and even on the kapia, wherein, it was said, the unlucky Arab was imprisonedandshowedhimselfofnights.Enjoyingtheyoungmen's kolo, they

  werenonethelessovercomebythatfearwhichtheArabhimself,whenhehad

  been alive and working on the bridge, had always instilled into the children of

  thetown.Onthathigh,newandstrangebridge,itseemedtothemthattheyhad

  long forsaken their mothers and their homes and were wandering in lands of

  blackpeople,marvellousbuildingsandstrangedances;theytrembled,butwere

  unable to keep their thoughts from the Arab or to abandon the wonderful

  new kapia. Onlysomefreshmarvelcouldhavedistractedtheirattention.

  A certain Murat, known as 'the dumb one', a dim-witted youth from the noble

  familyofTurkovićfromNezuke,whowasoftenthebuttofthetown,suddenly

  climbed on to the stone parapet of the bridge. There were shrieks from the

  children, startled cries from the older people, but the idiot, as though under a

  spell,withoutstretchedarmsandheadflungback,wentalongthenarrowstones,

  stepbystep,asthoughhewerenotflyingabovethewatersandthedepthsbut

  takingpartinawonderfuldance.Parallelwithhimwalkedacrewofurchinsand nondescriptsurginghimon.OnthefarthersideofthebridgehisbrotherAliaga

  waitedforhimandspankedhimlikeasmallchild.

  Manypeoplewentfardowntheriver,halfanhour'swalk,toKalataorMezalin,

  andlookedthenceatthebridge,standingoutwhiteanddelicatewithitseleven

  arches,likeastrangearabesqueonthegreenwatersamidthedarkhills.

  About this time too a great white plaque was brought, with an engraved

  inscription,andbuiltintothe kapia, intothatwallofreddishstonewhichrosea

  good six feet from the parapet of the bridge. The people gathered around the

  inscription and looked at it until some seminarist or koranic student was found

  who would, with more or less ability, for a coffee or a slice of water-melon or

  evenforthepureloveofAllah,readtheinscriptionasbesthecould.

  A hundred times those days they spelt out the verses of the tarih, written by a certain Badi, which gave the name and title of the man who had made the

  bequestaswellasthefortunateyear979ah,thatistosay1571intheChristian

  calendar, when it was completed. This Badi for good money wrote easy and

  sonorousversesandknewwellhowtofoistthemupongreatmenwhoerectedor

  restoredgreatbuildings.Thosewhoknewhim(andwhoweresomewhatenvious

  of him) used to say mockingly that the vault of heaven was the one and only

  buildingonwhichtherewasnota tarih fromBadi'spen.Buthe,despiteallhis

  fine earnings, was a poor famished devil continually at odds with that special

  sortofpenurythatoftengoeswithversewritinglikeakindofcurseandwhich

  noamountofpayorsalarycanassuage.

  Becauseoftheirliteraryshortcomings,theirthickheadsandlivelyimaginations,

  eachofthelocalscholarsreadandinterpretedinhisownwayBadi's tarih onthe

  stoneplaquewhich,aseverytextoncerevealedtothepublic,stoodthere,eternal

  on the eternal stone, always and irrevocably exposed to the looks and

  interpretationsofallmen,wiseorfoolish,evilorwell-intentioned.Eachoneof

  these listeners remembered those lines which best suited his ear and his

  temperament.Sowhatwasthere,engravedonthehardstoneinthesightofall

  men, was repeated from mouth to mouth, often changed and corrupted into

  nonsense.

  Onthestonewaswritten:

  'SeehowMehmedPasha,thegreatestamongthewiseandgreatofhistime.

  Mindfulofthetestamentofhisheart,byhiscareandtoil

  HasbuiltabridgeovertheRiverDrina,

  Overthiswater,deepandswift-flowing.

  Hispredecessorshadnotbeenabletoputupanything.

  IpraythatbytheMercyofAllahthisbridgewillbefirm

  Andthatitsexistencewillbepassedinhappiness

  Andthatitwillneverknowsorrow.

  Forinhislifetimehepouredoutgoldandsilverforhisbequest

  Andnomancansaythatfortunehasbeenwasted

  Whichhasbeenspenttosuchanend.

  Badi,whohasseenthis,whenthebridgewascompletedgavethis tarih.

  "MayAllahblessthisbuilding,thiswonderfulandbeautifulbridge".'

  But at last the people had eaten their fill and had wondered enough, walked

  enoughandhadlistenedtotheversesoftheinscriptiontotheirhearts'content.

  Theninedays'wonderbecameapartoftheireverydaylifeandtheycrossedthe

  bridge hurriedly, indifferently, anxiously, absent-mindedly as the tumultuous

  watersthatflowedbeneathit,asifitwereonlyoneofthecountlessroadsthat

  theyandtheirbeaststrodbeneaththeirfeet.Andtheplaquewiththeinscription

  fellassilentasanyotherstone.

  Nowtheroadfromtheleftbankoftheriverwasdirectlyconnectedwiththatend

  oftheroadonthelevelspaceonthefartherside.Gonewasthedark,worm-eaten

  ferry with its eccentric ferryman. Far below the last arches of the bridge there

  remained that sandy rock and the steep banks equally difficult to ascend or

  descend and on which travellers had waited so despairingly and had called so

  vainly from one bank to the other. All that, together with the stormy river, had

  been surmounte
d as if by magic. Men now passed far above, as if on wings,

  straightfromonehighbanktotheother,alongthewidestrongbridgewhichwas

  asfirmandlastingasamountainandwhichechoedunderhorses'hoovesasifit

  weremadeonlyofathinplaqueofstone.

  Gone too were those wooden water-mills and the hovels in which travellers in

  case of need had spent the night. In their place stood the firm and luxurious

  caravanseraiwhichreceivedthetravellerswhodailygrewmorenumerous.They

  enteredthe han throughawidegatewayofharmoniouslines.Oneachsidewasa

  largewindowwithagrille,notofironbutcarvedinasingleblockoflimestone.

  In the wide rectangular court was space for merchandise and baggage and

  arounditwererangedthedoorsofthirty-sixrooms.Behind,underthehillside, werethestables;togeneralamazementtheytoowereofstone,asifbuiltforthe

  Sultan's stud. There was not such another han from Sarajevo as far as

  Adrianople.Initeverytravellermightremainforadayandanightandreceive,

  freeofallcost,fire,shelterandwaterforhimself,hisservantsandhisbeasts.

  Allthis,asthebridgeitself,wasthebequestoftheGrandVezir,MehmedPasha,

  whohadbeenbornmorethansixtyyearsbeforeuptherebehindthemountains

  in the hillside village of Sokolovići, and who in his childhood had been taken

  away with a crowd of other Serbian peasant boys as blood tribute to Stambul.

  Theexpensesformaintainingthecaravanseraicamefromthe vakuf, thereligious

  endowment,whichMehmedPashahadfoundedfromtherichpropertiesseized

  inthenewly-conqueredterritoriesofHungary.

  Thus many troubles and inconveniences disappeared with the erection of the

  bridge and the foundation of the han. There disappeared too that strange pain which the Vezir in his childhood had brought from Bosnia, from the Višegrad

  ferry;thosedarkshootingpainswhichfromtimetotimehadseemedtocuthis

  breastintwo.ButitwasnotfatedthatMehmedPashashouldlivewithoutthose

  pangsorlongenjoyinhisthoughtshisVišegradbequest.Shortlyafterthefinal

  completionofthework,justwhenthecaravanseraihadbeguntoworkproperly

  andthebridgetobecomeknowntotheworld,MehmedPashaonceagainfeltthe

  'blackknife'inhisbreast.Andthatforthelasttime.

  One Friday, when he went with his suite to the mosque, a ragged and half-

  dementeddervishapproachedhimwithhislefthandstretchedoutforalms.The

  Vezir turned and ordered a member of his suite to give them. But the dervish

  thendrewaheavybutcher'sknifefromhisrightsleeveandviolentlystabbedthe

  Vezir between the ribs. His suite cut the dervish down, but the Vezir and his

  murderer breathed their last at the same moment. The dead assassin, big, red-

  faced,laywithoutstretchedarmsandlegsasifstillexaltedbytheimpulseofhis

  senselessblow;andbesidehimtheGrandVezir,withhisrobeunbuttonedonhis

  chestandhisturbanflungfaraway.Inthelastyearsofhislifehehadgrownthin

  and bowed, almost withered and coarser in feature. And now with half-bared

  chest, bareheaded, bleeding, twisted and crumpled, he looked more like an

  ageing and battered peasant of Sokolovići than the dignitary who until a short

  timebeforehadadministeredtheTurkishEmpire.

  MonthsandmonthspassedbeforethereportsoftheVezir'sassassinationreached

  thetownandthennotasaclearanddefinitefactbutasasecretwhisperwhich

  might or might not have been true. For in the Turkish Empire it was not permitted to spread reports or to gossip about bad news and tragic events even

  when they had taken place in a nearby country, much less so when they took

  placeonitsownsoil.Furthermore,inthiscase,itwasinnoone'sinteresttotalk

  muchabouttheGrandVezir'sdeath.Thepartyofhisadversaries,whichhadat

  last succeeded in overthrowing him, hoped that with his solemn funeral every

  livelier memory of him would also be buried. And Mehmed Pasha's kin,

  collaborators and supporters in Stambul had for the most part no objection to

  sayingaslittleaspossibleabouttheonetimeGrandVezir,forinthiswaytheir

  ownchancesofconciliatingthenewrulersandhavingtheirownpastoverlooked

  wereincreased.

  But the two fine buildings on the Drina had already begun to exercise their

  influenceontradeandcommunications,onthetownofVišegradandthewhole

  countryaround,andtheywentondoingsowithoutregardforthelivingorthe

  dead,forthosewhowererisingorthosewhowerefalling.Thetownsoonbegan

  to move downwards from the hillside to the water's edge and expand and

  developmoreandmoreaboutthebridgeandaroundthecaravanserai,whichthe

  peoplecalledtheStoneHan.

  Thus was born the bridge with its kapia and so the town developed around it.

  Afterthat,foraperiodofmorethan300years,itsroleinthedevelopmentofthe

  townanditssignificanceinthelifeofthetownspeoplewassimilartothatwhich

  we have described above. And the significance and substance of its existence

  were, so to speak, in its permanence. Its shining line in the composition of the

  town did not change, any more than the outlines of the mountains against the

  sky.Inthechangesandthequickburgeoningofhumangenerations,itremained

  asunchangedasthewatersthatflowedbeneathit.Ittoogrewold,naturally,but

  on a scale of time that was much greater not only than the span of human

  existence but also than the passing of a whole series of generations, so that its ageing could not be seen by human eye. Its life, though mortal in itself,

  resembledeternityforitsendcouldnotbeperceived.

  V

  Thefirstcenturypassed,atimelongandmortalformenandformanyoftheir

  works, but insignificant for great buildings, well conceived and firmly based,

  and the bridge with its kapia and the nearby caravanserai stood and served as they had on their first day. So too would a second century have passed over

  them, with its changes of seasons and human generations, and the buildings

  would have lasted unchanged; but what time could not do, the unstable and

  unpredictableinfluenceoffarawayaffairsdid.

  Atthattime,attheendoftheseventeenthcentury,muchwassung,spokenand

  whispered about Hungary, whence the Turkish armies after a hundred years of

  occupationwereabouttowithdraw.ManyBosnian spahis(landownerswhoheld

  theirlandsonmilitarytenure)hadlefttheirbonesonHungariansoil,defending

  theirpropertiesinthebattlesprecedingthewithdrawal.Theywere,itmightbe

  thought,theluckyonesformanyoftheother spahis returnedasbareasafinger

  to their former Bosnian homeland, where there awaited them sparse soil and a

  straitenedandpenuriouslifeaftertherichlordlinessandspaciousnessoflifeon

  thegreat
Hungarianestates.Thefaroffanduncertainechoofallthispenetrated

  as far as Višegrad, but no one there could ever have imagined that distant

  Hungary, a land of legend, could have any connection with the real, everyday

  life of the town. But with the Turkish retreat from Hungary there remained

  outside the frontiers of the Empire also those properties of the vakui (the religious endowment) from the revenues of which the caravanserai at Višegrad

  wasmaintained.

  Both the people of the town and the travellers who had made use of the Stone

  Han for the past 100 years had become accustomed to it and had never even

  considered by what means it had been maintained, how the revenues had been

  founded,orfromwhatsourcetheycame.Allhadmadeuseofit,profitingbyit

  as from a blessed and fertile roadside orchard which was both nobody's and

  everybody's; they repeated mechanically 'peace to the Vezir's soul' but did not

  stoptothinkthattheVezirhaddied100yearsbefore,nordidtheyaskwhonow

  preservedanddefendedtheimperiallandsandthe vakuf. Whocouldeverhave

  dreamtthattheaffairsoftheworldwereinsuchdependenceupononeanother

  and were linked together across so great a distance? So at first no one in the

  town even noticed that the income of the han had dried up. The attendants

  workedandthe han receivedtravellersasbefore.Itwasthoughtthatthemoney foritsupkeephadbeendelayed,ashadhappenedbefore.Butthemonthspassed

  and even the years, and the money did not come. The mutevelia (the

  administratorofthebequest),DauthodjaMutavelić,forthepeoplesocalledhim

  after his appointment and the nickname stuck, applied to everyone he could

  thinkof,butreceivednoreply.Thetravellershadtolookaftertheirownneeds

  and cleaned up the han as much as they found necessary for their own

  convenience,butaseachonewenthiswayheleftbehindmanureanddisorder

  forotherstocleanupandputright,evenashehimselfhadtidiedupwhateverhe

  had found dirty and in disorder. But after each traveller there remained just a