by Ivo Andrić
hadgrownupandbesidewhichhehadspenthislife,wasnowsuddenlybroken
inthemiddle,rightthereatthe kapia; thatthiswhitepaperoftheproclamation
hadcutitinhalflikeasilentexplosionandthattherewasnowagreatabyss;that individualpiersstillstoodtorightandtoleftofthisbreakbutthattherewasno
wayacross,forthebridgenolongerlinkedthetwobanksandeverymanhadto
remainonthatsidewherehehappenedtobeatthismoment.
Alihodja walked slowly, immersed in these feverish visions. He seemed like a
seriously wounded man and his eyes continually filled with tears. He walked
hesitantly as if he were a beggar who, ill, was crossing the bridge for the first time and entering a strange unknown town. Voices aroused him. Beside him
walked some soldiers. Amongst them he saw that fat, good-natured, mocking
face of the man with a red cross on his arm who had taken out the nail. Still
smiling, the soldier pointed to his bandage and asked him something in an
incomprehensiblelanguage.The hodja thoughtthathewasofferingtohelphim
andatoncestiffenedandsaidsullenly:
'Icanmyself....Ineednoone'shelp.'
Andwithalivelierandmoredeterminedstephemadehiswayhome.
X
TheformalandofficialentryoftheAustriantroopstookplacethefollowingday.
Noonecouldremembersuchasilenceasthenfellonthetown.Theshopsdid
notevenopen.Thedoorsandwindowsofthehousesremainedshutteredthough
itwasawarmsunnydaytowardstheendofAugust.Thestreetswereempty,the
courtyards and gardens as if dead. In the Turkish houses depression and
confusionreigned,intheChristianhousescautionanddistrust.Buteverywhere
andforeveryonetherewasfear.TheenteringAustriansfearedanambush.The
TurksfearedtheAustrians.TheSerbsfearedbothAustriansandTurks.TheJews
fearedeverythingandeveryonesince,especiallyintimesofwar,everyonewas
stronger than they. The rumbling of the previous day's guns was in everyone's
ears. But even if men were now only listening to their own fear, no one living
that day would have dared to poke his nose out of doors. But man has other
masters. The Austrian detachment which had entered the town the day before
had routed out the police chief and gendarmes. The officer in command of the
detachment had returned his sword to the police chief and ordered him to
continuehisdutiesandmaintainorderinthetown.Hetoldhimthatatonehour
before noon next day the commandant, a colonel, would arrive and that the
leadingmenofthetown,thatwastosaytherepresentativesofthethreefaiths,
weretobetheretomeethimwhenheenteredthetown.Greyandresigned,the
policechiefatoncesummonedMulaIbrahim,Husseinagatheschoolmaster,Pop
Nikola,andtherabbiDavidLeviandinformedthemthatas'recognizednotables'
theymustawaittheAustriancommandantnextdayatnoononthe kapia, must
welcomehiminthenameofthecitizensandaccompanyhimtothemarketplace.
Long before the appointed time the four 'recognized notables' met on the
deserted square and walked with slow steps to the kapia. Already the assistant chiefofpolice,SalkoHedo,withtheaidofagendarme,hadspreadoutalong
Turkish carpet in bright colours to cover the steps and the middle of the stone
seatonwhichtheAustriancommandantwastosit.Theystoodtheretogetherfor
some time, solemn and silent, then seeing that there was no trace of the
commandantalongthewhiteroadfromOkolište,theylookedatoneanotherand
asifbycommonconsentsatdownontheuncoveredpartofthestonebench.Pop
Nikoladrewoutahugeleathertobaccopouchandofferedittotheothers.
So they sat on the kapia as they had once done when they were young and carefreeandliketherestoftheyoungpeoplewastedtheirtimethere.Onlynow
theywerealladvancedinyears.PopNikolaandMulaIbrahimwereold,andthe schoolmaster and the rabbi in the prime of life. They were all in their best
clothes,filledwithanxietybothforthemselvesandfortheirflocks.Theylooked
atoneanothercloselyandlonginthefiercesummersun,andeachseemedtothe
others grown old for his years and worn out. Each of them remembered the
othersastheyhadbeeninyouthorchildhood,whentheyhadgrownuponthis
bridge,eachinhisowngeneration,greenwoodofwhichnoonecouldtellwhat
wouldbe.
Theysmokedandtalkedofonethingwhileturninganotheroverintheirminds,
glancingeverymomenttowardsOkolištewhencethecommandantuponwhom
everything depended was to come and who could bring them, their people and
thewholetown,eithergoodorevil,eitherpeaceorfreshdangers.
PopNikolawasundoubtedlythemostcalmandcollectedofthefour,oratleast
seemedso.Hehadpassedhisseventiethyearbutwasstillfreshandstrong.Son
ofthecelebratedPopMihailowhomtheTurkshadbeheadedonthisveryspot,
PopNikolahadpassedastormyyouth.HehadseveraltimesfledintoSerbiato
takerefugetherefromthehatredandrevengeofcertainTurks.Hisindomitable
natureandhisconducthadoftengivenoccasionbothforhatredandrevenge.But
whenthetroublousyearshadpassed,PopMihailo'ssonhadsettleddowninhis
old parish, married, and calmed down. Those times were long ago and now
forgotten. ('My character has changed long ago and our Turks have become
peaceable,' Pop Nikola would say in jest.) For fifty years now Pop Nikola had
administered his widespread, scattered and difficult frontier parish calmly and
wisely, without other major upheavals and misfortunes than those which life
brings normally in its train, with the devotion of a slave and the dignity of a
prince,alwaysjustandequitablewithTurks,peopleandleaders.
Neitherbeforehimnorafterhiminanyclassofmenorinanyfaithwastherea
man who enjoyed such general respect and such a reputation amongst all the
townspeople without distinction of faith. sex or years, as this priest whom
everyonecalled'grandad'.HerepresentedforthewholetowntheSerbianchurch
andallthatthepeoplecalledorregardedasChristianity.Thepeoplelookedon
himastheperfecttypeofpriestandleadersofarasthistownintheseconditions
couldimagineone.
Hewasamanofgreatstatureandexceptionalphysicalstrength,notoverliterate
butofgreatheart,soundcommonsenseandasereneandopenspirit.Hissmile
disarmed,calmedandencouraged.Itwastheindescribablesmileofamanwho
livesatpeacewithhimselfandwitheverythingaroundhim;hisbiggreeneyes contractedintonarrowslitswhenceflashedgoldensparks.Andsoheremained
inoldage.Inhislongovercoatoffox-fur,withhisgreatredbeardjustbeginning
to turn grey with the years and which covered his whole chest, with his
enormous hood beneath which his flowing hair Was plaited into a pigtail, h
e
walkedthroughthemarketplaceasifhehadindeedbeenthepriestofthistown
beside the bridge and all this mountainous district, not for fifty years only and
not for his church only, but from time immemorial, from those times when the
people were not divided into their present faiths and churches. From the shops
onbothsidesofthemarketplacethemerchantsgreetedhim,whatevertheirfaith.
Womenstoodtoonesideandwaitedwithbowedheadfor'grandad'topass.The
children(eventheJewishones)leftofftheirplayandstoppedshoutingandthe
oldestamongthem,solemnlyandtimidly,wouldcomeuptotheenormoushand
of 'grandad' to feel it for a moment on their shaven heads and faces heated by
play, and hear his merry and powerful voice fall upon them like a good and
pleasantdew:
'Godgrantyoulife!Godgrantyoulife,myson!'
This token of respect towards 'grandad' had become a part of the ancient and
universally recognized ceremonial in which generations of the townsfolk had
grownup.
ButeveninPopNikola'slifetherewasoneshadow.Hismarriagehadremained
childless.Thatwas,withoutdoubt,aheavyblowbutnoonecouldrecallhaving
heardabitterwordorseenaregretfulglanceeitherfromhimorfromhiswife.
Intheirhousetheyalwaysmaintainedattheirownexpenseatleasttwochildren
belongingtosomeoftheirrelativesinthevillages.Thesetheywouldlookafter
untiltheymarried,andthenfindothers.
Next to Pop Nikola sat Mula Ibrahim, a tall, thin, dried up man with a sparse
beard and pendulant moustaches. He was not much younger than Pop Nikola,
had a large family and a fine property left him by his father, but he was so
slipshod,thinandtimid,thatheseemedwithhisclearbluechildlikeeyesmore
like some hermit or some poor and pious pilgrim than the hodja of Višegrad, descendantofmany hodjas. MulaIbrahimhadoneaffliction:hestutteredinhis
speech,longandpainfully('Amanmusthavenothingtodobeforehecantalk
with Mula Ibrahim,' the townsmen used to say in jest). But Mula Ibrahim was
known for far around for his goodness and generosity. Mildness and serenity
breathedoutofhimandatthefirstmeetingmenforgothisoutwardappearance
andhisstutter.Heattractedallwhowereoverburdenedbyillness,povertyorany othermisfortune.FromthemostdistantvillagesmencametoaskadviceofMula
Ibrahim. Before his house there was always a crowd to see him, and men and
women often stopped him in the street to seek his advice. He never refused
anyoneandneverhandedoutexpensivecharmsoramuletsasother hodjas did.
Hewouldsitdownatonceinthefirstpatchofshadeoronthefirststone,alittle
totheside;themanwouldthentellallhistroublesinawhisper.MulaIbrahim
wouldlistenattentivelyandsympathetically,thensayafewgoodwordstohim,
alwaysfindingthebestpossiblesolutionforhistroubles,orwouldthrusthisthin
handintothedeeppocketofhiscloak,takingcarenottobeoverseenbyanyone,
and slip a few coins into his hand. Nothing was difficult or repugnant or
impossible to him if it were a question of helping some Moslem. For that he
could always find time and money. Nor did his stutter hinder him in this, for
when whispering with his co-religionist in misfortune he forgot to stutter.
Everyone went away from him if not completely consoled, then at least
momentarilyrelieved,foritcouldbeseenthathefelttheirmisfortunesasifthey
were his own. Continually surrounded with every sort of trouble and need and
neverthinkingofhimself,henonetheless,orsoitseemed,passedhiswholelife
healthy,happyandrich.
The Višegrad schoolmaster, Hussein Effendi, was a smallish plump man, well
dressed and well cared for. He had a short black beard carefully trimmed in a
regularovalabouthispinkandwhitefacewithroundblackeyes.Hehadbeen
well educated and knew a good deal, but pretended to know much more and
deceived himself that he knew even more. He loved to talk and to have an
audience.Hewasconvincedthathespokewellandthatledhimtospeakalot.
Heexpressedhimselfcarefullyandaffectedlywithstudiedgestures,holdinghis
armsupalittle,bothatthesameheight,withwhitesofthandswithpinkishnails,
shadowedbyshortblackhairs.Whenspeakinghebehavedasifhewereinfront
ofamirror.Hehadthelargestlibraryinthetown,aboundchestfullofbooks
kept carefully locked, which had been bequeathed him by his teacher, the
celebrated Arap-hodja, and which he not only conscientiously preserved from
dustandmothbutevenonrareoccasionsread.Butthemereknowledgethathe
had so great a number of such valuable books gave him repute amongst men
whodidnotknowwhatabookwas,andraisedhisvalueinhisowneyes.Itwas
knownthathewaswritingachronicleofthemostimportanteventsinthehistory
of the town. Among the citizens this gave him the fame of a learned and
exceptionalman,foritwasconsideredthatbythisheheldinsomewaythefate
ofthetownandofeveryindividualinitinhishands.Inactualfactthatchronicle
was neither extensive nor dangerous. In the last five or six years, since the schoolmasterhadfirstbegunthiswork,onlyfourpagesofasmallexercisebook
hadbeenfilled.Forthegreaternumberofthetown'seventswerenotconsidered
by the schoolmaster as of sufficient importance to warrant entry into his
chronicleandforthatreasonitremainedasunfruitful,dryandemptyasaproud
oldmaid.
Thefourthofthe'notables'wasDavidLevi,theVišegradrabbi,grandsonofthat
famous old rabbi Hadji Liacho who had left him as inheritance his name,
positionandpropertybutnothingofhisspiritandhisserenity.
He was pale and puny, with dark velvety eyes and melancholy expression. He
wasinconceivablytimidandsilent.Hehadonlyrecentlybecomerabbiandhad
marriednotlongbefore.Inordertoseembiggerandmoreimportantheworea
wide rich suit of heavy cloth and his face was overgrown with beard and
whiskers, but beneath all this one could discern a weak sickly body and the
childish oval of his face peered out fearfully from the black sparse beard. He
suffered terribly whenever he had to appear in public and take his part in
discussionsanddecisions,alwaysfeelinghimselftobeweakandundeveloped.
Nowallfourofthemsatinthesunandsweatedundertheirformalclothes,more
movedandanxiousthantheywishedtoshow.
'Let'slightanotherone.We'vetime,bythesoulofmygrandmother!He'snobird
toflydowntothebridge,'saidPopNikola,likeamanwhohaslonglearnthow
toconcealwithajesthisownandothers'thoughtsandfears.
AlllookedattheOkolišteroadandthenwentonsmoking.
The
conversation flowed slowly and carefully, forever coming back to the
imminentwelcometothecommandant.AllwereagreedthatitwasPopNikola
who should greet him and bid him welcome. With half-closed eyes and brows
furrowedsothathiseyesbecamethosetwogolden-studdedslitsthatformedhis
smile,PopNikolalookedatthethreeotherslong,silentlyandintently.
The rabbi was quivering with fright. He had hardly strength to puff the smoke
awayfromhimbutletitlingerinhismoustachesandbeard.Theschoolmaster
was no less scared. All his eloquence and his dignity as a man of learning had
vanished suddenly the day before. He was very far from realizing how
disconsolate he looked and how greatly he was scared, for the high opinion
which he had of himself did not allow him to believe anything of the sort. He
tried to deliver one of his literary addresses with his studied gestures that
explained everything, but his fine hands only fell into his lap and his words becamemixedup andhalting.Even hehimselfwondered wherehiscustomary
dignity had vanished, and vainly tormented himself trying to recover it, as
something to which he had long been accustomed and which now, when he
neededitmost,hadsomehowdesertedhim.
MulaIbrahimwassomewhatpalerthanusualbutotherwisecalmandcollected.
HeandPopNikolalookedatoneanotherfromtimetotimeasiftheyunderstood
oneanotherbytheireyesalone.Theyhadbeencloseacquaintancessinceyouth
andgoodfriends,insofarasonecouldspeakoffriendshipbetweenaTurkanda
Serbintimesastheythenwere.WhenPopNikolainhisyouthfulyearshadhad
his 'troubles' with the Višegrad Turks and had had to fly for refuge, Mula
Ibrahim, whose father had been very influential in the town, had been of some
servicetohim.Later,whenmorepeacefultimeshadcomeandrelationsbetween
the two faiths had become more bearable and the two of them were already
grownmen,theyhadmadefriendsandcalledoneanother'neighbour'injest,for
theirhouseswereatoppositeendsofthetown.Onoccasionsofdrought,flood,