blinkingandwhoeverfirstsawanythingshouldcryout.Open-mouthed
theywouldpeerintothatdeepdarkhole,quiveringwithcuriosityandfear,until
it seemed to some anaemic child that the opening began to sway and to move like a black curtain, or until one of them, mocking and inconsiderate (there is
always at least one such), shouted 'The Arab' and pretended to run away. That
spoilt the game and aroused disillusion and indignation amongst those who
lovedtheplayofimagination,hatedironyandbelievedthatbylookingintently
they could actually see and feel something. At night, in their sleep, many of
themwouldtossandfightwiththeArabfromthebridgeaswithfateuntiltheir
motherwokethemandsofreedthemfromthisnightmare.Thenshewouldgive
themcoldwatertodrink'tochaseawaythefear'andmakethemsaythenameof
God, and the child, overtaxed with daytime childish games, would fall asleep
againintothedeepsleepofchildhoodwhereterrorscannolongertakeshapeor
lastforlong.
Upriverfromthebridge,inthesteepbanksofgreychalk,onbothsidesofthe
river,canbeseenroundedhollows,alwaysinpairsatregularintervals,asifcut
in the stone were the hoofprints of some horse of supernatural size; they led
downwards from the Old Fortress, descended the scarp towards the river and
thenappearedagainonthefartherbank,wheretheywerelostinthedarkearth
andundergrowth.
The children who fished for tiddlers all day in the summer along these stony
banks knew that these were hoofprints of ancient days and long dead warriors.
Greatheroeslivedonearthinthosedays,whenthestonehadnotyethardened
and was soft as the earth and the horses, like the warriors, were of colossal
growth. Only for the Serbian children these were the prints of the hooves of
Sarac, the horse of Kraljević Marko, which had remained there from the time
when Kraljević Marko himself was in prison up there in the Old Fortress and
escaped,flyingdowntheslopeandleapingtheDrina,foratthattimetherewas
nobridge.ButtheTurkishchildrenknewthatithadnotbeenKraljevićMarko,
norcouldithavebeen(forwhencecouldabastardChristiandoghavehadsuch
strengthorsuchahorse!)anybutDjerzelezAlijaonhiswingedchargerwhich,
aseveryoneknew,despisedferriesandferrymenandleaptoverriversasifthey
were watercourses. They did not even squabble about this, so convinced were
both sides in their own belief. And there was never an instance of any one of
thembeingabletoconvinceanother,orthatanyonehadchangedhisbelief.
In these depressions which were round and as wide and deep as rather large
soup-bowls,waterstillremainedlongafterrain,asthoughinstonevessels.The
childrencalledthesepits,filledwith
tepid rainwater, wells and, without distinction of faith, kept the tiddlers there whichtheycaughtontheirlines.
Ontheleftbank,standingalone,immediatelyabovetheroad,therewasafairly
large earthen barrow, formed of some kind of hard earth, grey and almost like
stone.Onitnothinggreworblossomedsavesomeshortgrass,hardandprickly
asbarbedwire.Thattumuluswastheendandfrontierofallthechildren'sgames
around the bridge. That was the spot which at one time was called Radisav's
tomb.TheyusedtotellthathewassomesortofSerbianhero,amanofpower.
WhentheVezir,MehmedPasha,hadfirstthoughtofbuildingthebridgeonthe
Drinaandsenthismenhere,everyonesubmittedandwassummonedtoforced
labour.Onlythisman,Radisav,stirredupthepeopletorevoltandtoldtheVezir
not to continue with this work for he would meet with great difficulties in
building a bridge across the Drina. And the Vezir had many troubles before he
succeeded in overcoming Radisav for he was a man greater than other men;
therewasnorifleorswordthatcouldharmhim,norwasthereropeorchainthat
talismanthathehadwithhim.Andwhoknowswhatmighthavehappenedand
whether the Vezir would ever have been able to build the bridge, had he not
found some of his men who were wise and skilful, who bribed and questioned
Radisav's servant. Then they took Radisav by surprise and drowned him while
hewasasleep,bindinghimwithsilkenropesforagainstsilkhisttalismancould
not help him. The Serbian women believe that there is one night of the year
whenastrongwhitelightcanbeseenfallingonthattumulusdirectfromheaven;
andthattakesplacesometimeinautumnbetweenthegreaterandlesserfeastsof
theVirgin.Butthechildrenwho,tornbetweenbeliefandunbelief,remainedon
vigil by the windows overlooking Radisav's tomb have never managed to see
this heavenly fire, for they were all overcome by sleep before midnight came.
Buttherehadbeentravellers,whoknewnothingofthis,whohadseenawhite
light falling on the tumulus above the bridge as they returned to the town by
night.
The Turks in the town, on the other hand, have long told that on that spot a
certaindervish,bynameSheikTurhanija,diedasamartyrtothefaith.Hewasa
greatheroanddefendedonthisspotthecrossingoftheDrinaagainstaninfidel
army.Andthatonthisspotthereisneithermemorialnortomb,forsuchwasthe
wishofthedervishhimself,forhewantedtobeburiedwithoutmarkorsign,so
that no one should know who was there. For, if ever again some infidel army
shouldinvadebythisroute,thenhewouldarisefromunderhistumulusandhold
themincheck,ashehadoncedone,so
thattheyshouldbeabletoadvancenofartherthanthebridgeatVišegrad.And
thereforeheavennowandagainsheditslightuponhistomb.
Thus the life of the children of the town was played out under and about the
bridge in innocent games and childish fancies. With the first years of maturity,
when life's cares and struggles and duties had already begun, this life was
transferred to the bridge itself, right to the kapia, where youthful imagination foundotherfoodandnewfields.
Atandaroundthe kapia werethefirststirringsoflove,thefirstpassingglances,
flirtationsandwhisperings.Theretoowerethefirstdealsandbargains,quarrels
and reconciliations, meetings and waitings. There, on the stone parapet of the
bridge, were laid out for sale the first cherries and melons, the early
morning salep andhotrolls.Theretoogatheredthebeggars,themaimedandthe
lepers,aswellastheyoungandhealthywhowantedtoseeandbeseen,andall
those who had something remarkable to show in produce, clothes or weapons.
Theretootheeldersofthetownoftensattodiscusspublicmattersandcommon
troubles,butevenmoreoftenyoungmenwh
oonlyknewhowtosingandjoke.
There, on great occasions or times of change, were posted proclamations and
public notices (on the raised wall below the marble plaque with the Turkish
inscriptionandabovethefountain),buttheretoo,rightupto1878,hungorwere
exposed on stakes the heads of all those who for whatever reason had been
executed,andexecutionsinthatfrontiertown,especiallyinyearsofunrest,were
frequentandinsomeyears,asweshallsee,almostofdailyoccurrence.
Weddings or funerals could not cross the bridge without stopping at
the kapia. Theretheweddingguestswouldusuallypreenthemselvesandgetinto
their ranks before entering the marketplace. If the times were peaceful and
carefreetheywouldhandtheplum-brandyaround,sing,dancethe kolo andoften
delay there far longer than they had intended. And for funerals, those who
carriedthebierwouldputitdowntorestforalittlethereonthe kapia wherethe
deadmanhadinanycasepassedagoodpartofhislife.
The kapia wasthemostimportantpartofthebridge,evenasthebridgewasthe
mostimportantpartofthetown,orasaTurkishtraveller,towhomthepeopleof
Višegrad had been very hospitable, wrote in his account of his travels:
'their kapia istheheartofthebridge,whichistheheartofthetown,whichmust
remainineveryone'sheart'.Itshowedthattheoldmasons,whoaccordingtothe
old tales had struggled with vilas and every sort of wonder and had been
compelledtowalluplivingchildren,hadafeelingnotonlyfor
the permanence and beauty of their work but also for the benefit and
convenience which the most distant generations were to derive from it. When
oneknowswelleverydaylifehereinthetownandthinksitovercarefully,then
onemustsaytooneselfthattherearereallyonlyaverysmallnumberofpeople
inthisBosniaofourswhohavesomuchpleasureandenjoymentasdoeseach
andeverytownsmanonthe kapia.
Naturally winter should not be taken into account, for then only whoever was
forcedtpdosowouldcrossthebridge,andthenhewouldlengthenhispaceand
bend his head before the chill wind that blew uninterruptedly over the river.
Then, it was understood, there was no loitering on the open terraces of
the kapia. Butateveryothertimeofyearthe kapia wasarealboonforgreatand small. Then every citizen could, at any time of day or night, go out to
the kapia and sit on the sola, or hang about it on business or in conversation.
Suspended some fifteen metres above the green boisterous waters, this
stone sola floated in space over the water, with dark green hills on three sides, theheavens,filledwithcloudsorstars,aboveandtheopenviewdownriverlike
anarrowamphitheatreboundedbythedarkbluemountainsbehind.
HowmanyVezirsorrichmenarethereintheworldwhocouldindulgetheirjoy
or their cares, their moods or their delights in such a spot? Few, very few. But howmanyofourtownsmenhave,inthecourseofcenturiesandthepassageof
generations,sathereinthedawnortwilightoreveninghoursandunconsciously
measured the whole starry vault above! Many and many of us have sat there,
headinhands,leaningonthewell-cutsmoothstone,watchingtheeternalplayof
lightonthemountainsandthecloudsinthesky,andhaveunravelledthethreads
ofoursmall-towndestinies,eternallythesameyeteternallytangledinsomenew
manner.Someoneaffirmedlongago(itistruethathewasaforeignerandspoke
injest)thatthis kapia hadhadaninfluenceonthefateofthetownandevenon
thecharacterofitscitizens.Inthoseendlesssessions,thestrangersaid,onemust
searchforthekeytotheinclinationofmanyofourtownsmentoreflectionand
dreaming and one of the main reasons for that melancholic serenity for which
theinhabitantsofthetownarerenowned.
In any case, it cannot be denied that the people of Višegrad have from olden
times been considered, in comparison with the people of other towns, as easy-
going men, prone to pleasure and free with their money. Their town is well
placed,thevillagesarounditarerichandfertile,andmoney,itistrue,passesin
abundance through Višegrad, but it does not stay there long. If one finds there somethriftyand
economical citizen without any sort of vices, then he is certainly some
newcomer;butthewatersandtheairofVišegradaresuchthathischildrengrow
up with open hands and widespread fingers and fall victims to the general
contagionofthespendthriftandcarefreelifeofthetownwithitsmotto:'Another
dayanothergain.'
They tell the tale that Starina Novak, when he felt his strength failing and was
compelled to give up his role as highwayman in the Romania Mountains, thus
taughttheyoungmanGrujićwhowastosucceedhim:
'Whenyouaresittinginambushlookwellatthetravellerwhocomes.Ifyousee
thatheridesproudlyandthathewearsaredcorseletandsilverbossesandwhite
gaiters,thenheisfromFoča.Strikeatonce,forhehaswealthbothonhimand
in his saddlebags. If you see a poorly dressed traveller, with bowed head,
hunchedonhishorseasifheweregoingouttobeg,thenstrikefreely,forheisa
manofRogatica.Theyareallalike,misersandtight-fistedbutasfullofmoney
as a pomegranate. But if you see some mad fellow, with legs crossed over the
saddlebow,beatingonadrumandsingingatthetopofhisvoice,don'tstrikeand
do not soil your hands for nothing. Let the rascal go his way. He is from
Višegradandhehasnothing,formoneydoesnotsticktosuchmen.'
Allthisgoestoconfirmtheopinionofthatforeigner.Butnonethelessitwould
be hard to say with certainty that this opinion is correct. As in so many other
things, here too it is not easy to determine what is cause and what effect. Has
the kapia made them what they are, or on the contrary was it imagined in their souls and understandings and built for them according to their needs and
customs?Itisavainandsuperfluousquestion.Therearenobuildingsthathave
been built by chance, remote from the human society where they have grown
anditsneeds,hopesandunderstandings,evenastherearenoarbitrarylinesand
motiveless forms in the work of the masons. The life and existence of every
great,beautifulandusefulbuilding,aswellasitsrelationtotheplacewhereit
has been built, often bears within itself complex and mysterious drama and
history.However,onethingisclear;thatbetweenthelifeofthetownsmenand
that bridge, there existed a centuries-old bond. Their fates were so intertwined
that they could not be imagined separately and could not be told separately.
Therefore the story of the foundation and destiny of the bridge is at the same
time
the story of the life of the town and of its people, from generation to
generation,evenasthroughallthetalesaboutthetownstretchesthelineofthe stonebridgewithitselevenarchesandthe kapia inthemiddle,likeacrown.
II
Nowwemustgobacktothetimewhentherewasnotevenathoughtofabridge
atthatspot,letalonesuchabridgeasthis.Perhapseveninthosefar-offtimes,
sometravellerpassingthisway,tiredanddrenched,wishedthatbysomemiracle
thiswideandturbulentriverwerebridged,sothathecouldreachhisgoalmore
easily and quickly. For there is no doubt that men had always, ever since they
first travelled here and overcame the obstacles along the way, thought how to
makeacrossingatthisspot,evenasalltravellersatalltimeshavedreamedofa
good road, safe travelling companions and a warm inn. Only not every wish
bears fruit, nor has everyone the will and the power to turn his dreams into
reality.
The first idea of the bridge, which was destined to be realized, flashed, at first naturallyconfusedandfoggy,acrosstheimaginationofatenyearoldboyfrom
thenearbyvillageofSokolovići,onemorningin1516whenhewasbeingtaken
alongtheroadfromhisvillagetofar-off,shiningandterribleStambul.
Thenthissamegreenandawe-inspiringDrina,thismountainriver'whichoften
grewangry',clamouredtherebetweenbarrenandnaked,stonyandsandybanks.
Thetowneventhenexisted,butinanotherformandofdifferentdimensions.On
therightbankoftheriver,onthecrestofaprecipitoushill,wherenowthereare
ruins,rosethewellpreservedOldFortress,withwidespreadfortificationsdating
from the time of the flowering of the Bosnian kingdom, with casements and
ramparts,theworkofoneofthepowerfulPavlovićnobles.Ontheslopesbelow
thisfortressandunderitsprotectionstoodtheChristiansettlements,Mejdanand
Bikovac,andtherecentlyconvertedTurkishhamletofDušče.Downonthelevel
groundbetweentheDrinaandtheRzav,wheretherealtownlaterspread,were
onlythetownmeadows,witharoadrunningthroughthem,besidewhichwasan
old-fashionedinnandafewhutsandwater-mills.