The Bridge on the Drina - PDFDrive.com

by Ivo Andrić

  compassionatelyattherefugeesandremainedsilent,whileothersgreetedthem

  with 'merhaba', tried to stop them and offer them something. They paid no

  attentiontotheoffersandscarcelyrespondedtothegreetings,buthurriedonto

  reachtheirpostforthenightatOkolištewhileitwasstilllight.

  In all there were about 120 families. More than 100 families were going on to

  Sarajevowheretherewasachanceofbeingsettled,whilefifteenweretostayin

  thetown;theywereforthemostpartthosewhohadrelativesthere.

  One only of these dog-tired men, poor in appearance and apparently alone,

  stopped for a moment on the kapia, drank his fill of water and accepted an offeredcigar.Hewaswhitealloverfromthedustoftheroad,hiseyesshoneas

  if in fever and he was unable to keep his glance fixed on any single object.

  Vigorously puffing out smoke, he looked around him with those shining

  disagreeable glances, without replying to the timid and humble questions of

  individuals. He only wiped his long moustaches, thanked them curtly and with

  thatbitternesswhichovertirednessandafeelingofbeingoutcastleavesinaman

  he muttered a few words looking at them with one of those sudden unseeing

  glances.

  'YousithereatyoureaseanddonotknowwhatishappeningbehindStaniševac.

  HerewearefleeingintoTurkishlands,butwhereareyoutofleewhen,together

  withus,yourturnwillcome?Noneofyouknowsandnoneofyoueverthinksof

  it.'

  Hesuddenlyceased.Eventhelittlehesaidwasmuchforthosewhotillthenhad

  been so carefree, and yet little enough for his own bitterness which would not

  allow him to stay silent yet at the same time prevented him from expressing

  himself clearly. It was he himself who cut short the heavy silence by saying

  farewellandhurryingawaytocatchupwiththerestoftheprocession.Allstood

  uptoshoutgoodwishesafterhim.

  All that evening the mood on the kapia remained heavy. All were silent and downcast. Even Salko sat dumb and motionless on one of the stone steps

  surroundedbythehusksofthewater-melonshehadeatenforabet.Depressed

  andsilenthesattherewithdowncastlooks,absent-mindedly,asthoughhewere

  notlookingatthestonebeforehimbutatsomethingfardistantwhichhecould

  scarcelyperceive.Thepeoplebegantodisperseearlierthanusual.

  Butnextdayeverythingwasasithadalwaysbeen,forthetownsmendidnotlike

  to remember evil and did not worry about the future; in their blood was the

  conviction that real life consists of calm periods and that it would be mad and

  vain to spoil them by looking for some other, firmer and more lasting life that

  didnotexist.

  In those twenty-five years in the middle of the nineteenth century the plague

  ragedtwiceatSarajevoandthecholeraonce.Whenthishappenedthetownkept

  regulationswhich,accordingtotradition,hadbeengivenbyMohammedhimself

  to the faithful for their guidance in the event of an epidemic: 'While the

  Pestilence rages in some place do not go there, for you may become infected,

  and if you are already in the place where it rages then do not depart from that place lest you infect others.' But since men do not observe even the most

  salutoryofregulations,evenwhentheyderivefromtheApostleofGodhimself,

  ifnotforcedtodosoby'thepoweroftheauthorities',thentheauthoritiesonthe

  occasion of every 'plague' limited or completely stopped all travel and postal

  communications. Then life on the kapia changed its aspect. The people of the town, busy or at leisure, thoughtful or singing, disappeared, and on the

  empty sofa, as in times of war or revolution, once again sat a guard of several gendarmes. They stopped all travellers coming from the direction of Sarajevo

  andwavedthembackwiththeirriflesorshoutedloudlytothemtoretreat.The

  posttheyacceptedfromthemessengerbutwitheverymeasureofprecaution.A

  small fire of 'aromatic woods' was lit on the kapia and produced an abundant white smoke. The gendarmes took each individual letter in a pair of tongs and

  passed it through this smoke. Only such 'purified' letters were sent onward.

  Goodstheydidnotacceptatall.Buttheirmaintaskwasnotwithlettersbutwith

  living men. Every day a few arrived, travellers, merchants, bearers of news,

  tramps.Agendarmeawaitedthemattheentrytothebridgeandfromadistance

  signalledwithhishandthattheymightnotgofarther.Thetravellerwouldhalt,

  but begin to argue, to justify himself and explain his case. Each of them

  consideredthatitwasabsolutelynecessarytolethimintothetownandeachof

  them swore that he was healthy and had had no connection with the cholera

  whichwastheresomewhereinSarajevo.Duringtheseexplanationsthetravellers

  would edge little by little halfway across the bridge and approach

  the kapia. There,othergendarmeswouldtaketheirpartintheconversationand astheytalkedatseveralpacesdistancetheyallshoutedloudlyandwavedtheir

  arms.Thosegendarmesalsojoinedinwhosatalldayonthekapiasippingplum

  brandy and eating garlic; their service gave them this right for it was believed

  that both these were good antidotes against infection, and they made abundant

  useoftheirprivilege.

  Many a traveller would grow tired of pleading with and trying to convince the

  gendarmesandwouldreturndowncast,hisworkunfinished,alongtheOkolište

  road. But some were more persistent and persevering and remained there on

  the kapia hopingforamomentofweaknessorinattentionorsomemadandlucky

  chance. If it so happened that the leader of the town gendarmes, Salko Hedo,

  were there, then there was no likelihood that the traveller would achieve

  anything. Hedo was that true conscientious official who does not really see or

  hear whomever he talks to, and who only considers him in so far as it is

  necessarytofindtheplaceforhimsetoutbytheregulationsinforce.Untilhe

  haddonethishewasdeafandblindandwhenhehaddoneithebecomedumbas

  well.Invainthetravellerwouldimploreorflatter:

  'Salik-Aga,Iamhealthy....'

  'Wellthen,goinhealthwhenceyoucame.Getalong,outofmysight....'

  There was no arguing with Hedo. But if some of the younger gendarmes were

  alone,thensomethingmightstillbedone.Thelongerthetravellerstoodonthe

  bridgeandthemoreheshoutedandtalkedwiththem,toldallhistroubles,why

  hehadsetoutandalltheproblemsofhislife,themorepersonalandfamiliarhe

  seemedtobecomeandlessandlesslikeamanwhomighthavecholera.Inthe

  end,oneofthegendarmeswouldoffertotakeamessageforhimtowhomever

  hewishedinthetown.Thiswasthefirststeptowardsyielding.Butthetraveller

  knew that the message would never be d
elivered for the gendarmes, always

  suffering from a hangover or half drunk as they were, remembered things with

  difficulty and delivered messages inside out. Therefore he went on indefinitely

  with his conversation, implored, offered bribes, called upon God and his soul.

  All this he did until the gendarme whom he had marked down as the most

  lenientremainedaloneonthebridge.Thenthebusinesswasfinishedsomehow

  orother.Thesoulfulgendarmewouldturnhisfacetotheraisedwallasiftoread

  theancientinscriptiononit,withhishandsbehindhisbackandthepalmofhis

  right hand extended. The persevering traveller would put the agreed sum of

  moneyintothegendarme'spalm,glancerightandleft,andthenslideacrossthe

  otherhalfofthebridgeandbecomelostinthetown.Thegendarmewentbackto his post, chewed a head of garlic and washed it down with plum brandy. This

  filledhimwithacertaingayandcarefreeresolutionandgavehimfreshstrength

  tokeepvigilandguardthetownfromcholera.

  But misfortunes do not last forever (this they have in common with joys) but

  pass away or are at least diminished and become lost in oblivion. Life on

  the kapia alwaysrenewsitselfdespiteeverythingandthebridgedoesnotchange

  with the years or with the centuries or with the most painful turns in human

  affairs.Allthesepassoverit,evenastheunquietwaterspassbeneathitssmooth

  andperfectarches.

  VIII

  It was not only the wars, pestilences and migrations of the times which broke

  against the bridge and interrupted life on the kapia. There were also other exceptional events which gave their name to the year in which they took place

  andwerelongremembered.

  Leftandrightofthe kapia inbothdirections,thestoneparapetofthebridgehad

  longbecomesmoothandsomewhatdarkerthantherest.Forhundredsofyears

  the peasants had rested their burdens on it when crossing the bridge, or idlers

  hadleantshouldersandelbowsuponitinconversationwhilewaitingforothers

  or when, solitary and leaning on their elbows, they looked in the depths below

  thematthewatersastheywentfoamingswiftlypast,alwaysnewandyetalways

  thesame.

  But never had so many idle and inquisitive people leant on the parapet and

  watchedthesurfaceofthewater,asiftoreadinittheanswertosomeriddle,as

  inthelastdaysofAugustthatyear.Thewaterwascloudedbytherainsthoughit

  was only towards the end of summer. In the eddies below the arches a white

  foam formed, which moved in circles with twigs, small branches and rubbish.

  But the leisurely and leaning townsmen were not really looking at the waters

  which they had always known and which had nothing to tell them; but on the

  surfaceofthewaterandintheirownconversationstheysearchedforsomesort

  of explanation for themselves and tried to find there some visible trace of an

  obscureandcrueldestinywhich,inthosedays,hadtroubledandsurprisedthem.

  Aboutthattimeanunusualthinghadtakenplaceonthe kapia whichwouldlong

  berememberedandwhichwasnotlikelytohappenagainaslongasthebridge

  and the town on the Drina existed. It had excited and shaken the townspeople

  and the story of it had passed beyond the town itself, to other places and

  districts,tobecomealegend.

  Thiswas,infact,ataleoftwoVišegradhamlets,VeljeLugandNezuke.These

  twohamletslayattheextremeendsofthatamphitheatreformedaboutthetown

  bythedarkmountainsandtheirgreenfoothills.

  The great village of Stražište on the north-eastern side of the valley was the

  nearest to the town. Its houses, fields and gardens were scattered over several

  foothillsandemboweredinthevalleysbetweenthem.Ontheroundedflankof

  one of these hills lay about fifteen houses, buried in plum orchards and

  surroundedonallsidesbyfields.ThiswasthehamletofVeljeLug,apeaceful,

  richandbeautifulTurkishsettlementontheslopes.Thehamletbelongedtothe

  villageofStražište,butitwasnearertothetownthantoitsownvillagecentre,

  for the men of Velje Lug could walk down to the marketplace in half an hour,

  hadtheirshopsthereanddidbusinessinthetownliketheordinarytownsmen.

  Between them and the townsmen there was indeed little or no difference save

  perhaps that their properties were more solid and lasting for they stood on the

  firm earth, not subject to floods, and the men there were more modest and did

  not have the bad habits of the town. Velje Lug had good soil, pure water and

  handsomepeople.

  A branch of the Višegrad family of Osmanagić lived there. But even though

  those in the town were richer and more numerous, it was generally considered

  thattheyhad'degenerated'andthattherealOsmanagićswerethoseofVeljeLug

  whencethefamilyhadcome.Theywereafineraceofmen,sensitiveandproud

  oftheirorigin.Theirhouse,thelargestinthedistrict,showingupwhiteonthe

  hillside just below the crest of the hill, turned towards the southwest; it was

  alwaysfreshlywhitewashed,witharoofofblackenedthatchandfifteenglazed

  windows.Theirhousecouldbeseenfromafarandwasthefirsttocatchtheeye

  ofatravellercomingtoVišegradandthelastthathesawonleavingit.Thelast

  rays of the setting sun behind the Liještan ridge rested there and shone on the

  white and shining face of this house. The townsmen were long accustomed to

  look at it from the kapia in the early evening and see how the setting sun was reflectedfromtheOsmanagićwindowsandhowthelightleftthemoneafterthe

  other.Asthesunsetandthetownwasinshadowitslastrays,fallingononeof

  the windows, as it broke through the clouds, would shine for a few moments

  longerlikeahugeredstaroverthedarkenedtown.

  Alsowellknownandesteemedinthetownwastheheadofthathouse,Avdaga

  Osmanagić,aboldandfierymaninprivatelifeasinbusiness.Hehadashopin

  the market, a low twilit room in which maize, dried plums or pinecones lay

  scattered over planks and plaited mats. Avdaga only did a wholesale trade,

  therefore his shop was not open every day, but regularly on market days and

  throughouttheweekaccordingtotheneedsofbusiness.Initwasalwaysoneof

  Avdaga's sons, while he himself usually sat on a bench before it. There he

  chattedwithcustomersoracquaintances.Hewasabigandimposingman,ruddy

  inappearance,butwithpurewhitebeardandmoustaches.Hisvoicewasharsh

  andthroaty.Foryearshehadsufferedcruellyfromasthma.Wheneverhegrew

  excitedinconversationandraisedhisvoice,andthatwasafrequentoccurrence,

  hewouldsuddenlychoke,hisnecktendonsstandout,hisfacegrowredandhis

  eyesfillwithtears,whilehis
chestcreaked,wheezedandechoedlikeastormon

  the hills. When the fit of choking had passed, he would pull himself together,

  takeadeepbreathandgoonwiththeconversationwherehehadleftoff,onlyin

  achangedthinvoice.Hewasknowninthetownandthesurroundingsasaman

  of harsh words, but generous and brave. So he was in everything, even in

  business,thoughoftentohisownhurt.Oftenbyaboldwordhewouldreduceor

  raisethepriceofplumsormaizeevenwhenthiswasnottohisownadvantage,

  only to spite some avaricious peasant or rapacious merchant. His word was

  universally listened to and accepted in the marketplace, though it was known

  thathewasoftenhastyandpersonalinhisjudgments.WhenAvdagacamedown

  from Velje Lug and sat before his shop he was rarely alone, for men liked to

  listentohistalkandwantedtohearhisopinion.Hewasalwaysopenandlively,

  ready to speak out and defend what others considered was best passed over in

  silence. His asthma and attacks of heavy coughing would interrupt his

  conversation at any moment, but for a wonder this did not spoil it but made it

  seem the more convincing and his whole manner of expressing himself had a

  sortofheavyandpainfuldignity,whichitwasnoteasytoresist.

  Avdagahadfivemarriedsonsandanonlydaughter,whowastheyoungestofhis

  childrenandjustripeformarriage.ShewascalledFataanditwasknownofher

  thatshewasexceptionallybeautifulandtheveryimageofherfather.Thewhole

  town and to some extent even the whole district discussed the question of her

  marriage. It has always been the case with us that at least one girl in every

  generationpassesintolegendandsongbecauseofherbeauty,herqualitiesand

  her nobility. So she was in those few years the goal of all desires and the

  inaccessibleexample;imaginationflaredupatmentionofhernameandshewas

  surroundedbytheenthusiasmofthemenandtheenvyofthewomen.Shewas

  one of those outstanding persons set apart by nature and raised to dangerous

  heights.

  This daughter of Avdaga resembled her father not only in face and appearance