by Ivo Andrić
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