by Ivo Andrić
resultedinadeepunderstandingofpeoplesandcreedsotherthanhisown.Born
near Travnik in Northern Bosnia in 1892, Dr Andrić passed much of his
childhoodinVišegrad.Notonlyistheretruth,insightandsympathyinhisvaried
range of Višegrad portraits, there is certainly also a good deal of observed and
criticalbiography.
Dr Andrić's books are almost all about Bosnia and Bosnians. But the peculiar
positionofBosnia,astormcentreforcenturiesontheborderoftheEasternand
Westernworlds,saves themfromthe curseofdetailed provincialismandgives
themaninterestthatextendsfarbeyonditsnarrowborders.Itwouldnotbetoo
muchtosaythattheassassinationoftheAustrianArchdukeFranzFerdinandby
GavriloPrincipatSarajevoin1914wastheturningpointofmodernhistory.
OrAndrić'sowncareerwidenedthefieldofhisobservationsandhissympathies
in a manner possible only in a vigorously growing society and a century of
conflict. He studied first at Sarajevo and later at the universities of Zagreb,
Vienna,CracowandGraz,wherehetookhisdegree.Ofapoorartisanfamily,he
madehiswaylargelythroughhisownability.Asothergiftedstudentsofhisrace
andtime,andashisownstudentsin TheBridgeontheDrina, hebelongedtothe
National Revolutionary Youth Organization, and experienced the customary
cycle of persecution and arrest. After the First World War he entered the
Yugoslav diplomatic service and served in Rome, Bucharest, Trieste and Graz.
At the outbreak of World War II he was Yugoslav Minister in Berlin, when
Yugoslaviawasdesperatelyplayingfortime,hopingtopostponetheinvasionof
Hitlerandatthesametimeconsolidateherforcestoresistitwhenitinevitably
came. I recall waiting tensely in Belgrade for Dr Andrić to return from Berlin,
the one sure sign that an invasion was immediate. He came back only a few
hours before the first bombs fell on Belgrade. My only contact with him was
whentheYugoslavGovernmentwasalreadyinflight.
During the war, Dr Andrić lived in retirement in Belgrade, and during the
Germanoccupationtooknopartinpublicaffairs.Thereinwearethegainers,for
atthattimehewrotehismostimportantworks,includingwhatmaybecalledhis
Bosniantrilogy: Miss,TheTravnikChronicle and,thegreatestofthemall, The
BridgeontheDrina.
The experiences of the war and the German occupation gave Dr Andrić
sympathy with the Yugoslav Liberation Movement. Since the war, he has been
associated with it and has been a member of the National Assembly for many
years.
TheBridgeontheDrina isnotanovelintheusualsenseoftheword.Itsscope
is too vast, its characters too numerous, its period of action too long; it covers threeandahalfcenturies.DrAndrićhimselfcallsitachronicle;letusaccepthis
word.
It has been awarded the highest literary award of postwar Yugoslavia and has
beentranslatedintoseverallanguages.
Itisalwaysaninvidioustaskforatranslatortocommentonanauthor'sstyle.It
shouldbe—andIhopeitis—evidentinthetranslation.Andrić'sstylehasthe
sweep and surge of the sea, slow and yet profound, with occasional flashes of
witandirony.Onesubtletycannot,however,beconveyedintranslation;hisuse
ofvaryingdialectsandlocalisms.IhaveconveyedtheminthebestmannerthatI
could,sincealiteraluseofdialectwould,evenwereitpossible,bepedantic,dull
and cumbersome. For the information of purists, the occasional Turkish words
that are used are used in their Bosnian sense and spelling which often differs
considerablyfrommodernliteraryTurkish.
LOVETTF.EDWARDS
NOTE onthepronunciationofSerbo-Croatnames
Andrić's novel is published both in the Cyrillic and Latin (Croat) alphabets. I
have used the Croatian spelling throughout. The language is strictly phonetic.
Onesoundisalmostalwaysdesignatedbyoneletteror(inCroat)combination
ofletters.
Generally speaking, the foreigner cannot go far wrong if he uses 'continental'
vowelsandEnglishconsonants,withthefollowingexceptions:
isalwaysts,asincats.
čischasinchurch.
ćissimilarbutsofter,astintheCockneypronunciationoftube.
Manyfamilynamesendinć.Forpracticalpurposes,theforeignermayregardč
andćasthesame.
djistheEnglishjinjudge—theEnglishjinfact.
dž is practically the same, but harder. It is usually found in words of Turkish
origin.
jisalwayssoft,theEnglishy.
rissometimesavowel,stronglyrolled.Hencesuchstrangelookingwordsasvrh
(summit),
šisshasinshake.
žiszhaszinazure.
Other variations do not occur in this book. In a few cases I have left the
conventionally accepted English spelling, instead of insisting pedantically on
Serbo-Croat versions: e.g. San jak (Serbo-Croat: Sandžak), Belgrade (Serbo-
Croat: Beograd), etc. In the case of purely Turkish names, I have sometimes transliteratedthemphonetically,astheCroatversionisequallyarbitrary.
Theuseoftheoriginalnamesretainsdignityandflavour.Attemptstoadaptthem
toEnglishphonetics(initselfanungratefultask)resultsinsuchmonstrositiesas
Ts(e)rnche—forCrnče.
LOVETTF.EDWARDS
I
For the greater part of its course the river Drina flows through narrow gorges
between steep mountains or through deep ravines with precipitous banks. In a
fewplacesonlytheriverbanksspreadouttoformvalleyswithlevelorrolling
stretches of fertile land suitable for cultivation and settlement on both sides.
Such a place exists here at Višegrad, where the Drina breaks out in a sudden
curve from the deep and narrow ravine formed by the Butkovo rocks and the
Uzavnikmountains.ThecurvewhichtheDrinamakeshereisparticularlysharp
andthemountainsonbothsidesaresosteepandsoclosetogetherthattheylook
likeasolidmassoutofwhichtheriverflowsdirectlyasfromadarkwall.Then
the mountains suddenly widen into an irregular amphitheatre whose widest
extentisnotmorethanabouttenmilesasthecrowflies.
Here, where the Drina flows with the whole force of its green and foaming
waters from the apparently closed mass of the dark steep mountains, stands a
greatclean-cutstonebridgewithelevenwidesweepingarches.Fromthisbridge
spreadsfanlikethewholerollingvalleywiththelittleorientaltownofVišegrad
andallitssurroundings,withhamletsnestlinginthefoldsofthehills,covered
with meadows, pastures and plum-orchards, and criss-crossed with walls and
fences and dotted with shaws and occasional clumps of evergreens. Looked at
fr
omadistancethroughthebroadarchesofthewhitebridgeitseemsasifone
can see not only the green Drina, but all that fertile and cultivated countryside
andthesouthernskyabove.
Ontherightbankoftheriver,startingfromthebridgeitself,laythecentreofthe
town,withthemarketplace,partlyonthelevelandpartlyonthehillside.Onthe
othersideofthebridge,alongtheleftbank,stretchedtheMaluhinoPolje,witha
few scattered houses along the road which led to Sarajevo. Thus the bridge,
unitingthetwopartsoftheSarajevoroad,linkedthetownwithitssurrounding
villages.
Actually,tosay'linked'wasjustastrueastosaythatthesunrisesinthemorning
sothatmenmayseearoundthemandfinish
theirdailytasks,andsetsintheeveningthattheymaybeabletosleepandrest
fromthelaboursoftheday.Forthisgreatstonebridge,ararestructureofunique
beauty,suchasmanyricherandbusiertownsdonotpossess('Thereareonlytwo
otherssuchasthisinthewholeEmpire/theyusedtosayinoldentimes)wasthe
one real and permanent crossing in the whole middle and upper course of the Drina and an indispensable link on the road between Bosnia and Serbia and
further, beyond Serbia, with other parts of the Turkish Empire, all the way to
Stambul.Thetownanditsoutskirtswereonlythesettlementswhichalwaysand
inevitablygrowuparoundanimportantcentreofcommunicationsandoneither
sideofgreatandimportantbridges.
Herealsointimethehousescrowdedtogetherandthesettlementsmultipliedat
bothendsofthebridge.Thetownoweditsexistencetothebridgeandgrewout
ofitasiffromanimperishableroot.
In order to see a picture of the town and understand it and its relation to the bridge clearly, it must be said that there was another bridge in the town and
another river. This was the river Rzav, with a wooden bridge across it. At the
veryendofthetowntheRzavflowsintotheDrina,sothatthecentreandatthe
sametimethemainpartofthetownlayonasandytongueoflandbetweentwo
rivers, the great and the small, which met there and its scattered outskirts
stretchedoutfrombothsidesofthebridges,alongtheleftbankoftheDrinaand
therightbankoftheRzav.Itwasatownonthe»water.Buteventhoughanother
river existed and another bridge, the words 'on the bridge' never meant on the
Rzavbridge,asimplewoodenstructurewithoutbeautyandwithouthistory,that
hadnoreasonforitsexistencesavetoservethetownspeopleandtheiranimals
asacrossing,butonlyanduniquelythestonebridgeovertheDrina.
Thebridgewasabouttwohundredandfiftypaceslongandabouttenpaceswide
save in the middle where it widened out into two completely equal terraces
placed symmetrically on either side of the roadway and making it twice its
normal width. This was the part of the bridge known as the kapia. Two
buttresseshadbeenbuiltoneachsideofthecentralpierwhichhadbeensplayed
out towards the top, so that to right and left of the roadway there were two
terracesdaringlyandharmoniouslyprojectingoutwardsfromthestraightlineof
the bridge over the noisy green waters far below. The two terraces were about
five paces long and the same in width and were bordered, as was the whole
length of the bridge, by a stone parapet. Otherwise, they were open and
uncovered.Thatontherightasonecamefromthetownwascalledthesofa.It
wasraisedby
twostepsandborderedbybenchesforwhichtheparapetservedasaback;steps,
benchesandparapetwereallmadeofthesameshiningstone.Thatontheleft,
oppositethe sola, wassimilarbutwithoutbenches.Inthemiddleoftheparapet,
thestonerosehigherthanamanandinit,nearthetop,wasinsertedaplaqueof whitemarblewitharichTurkishinscription,a tarih, withacarvedchronogram
whichtoldinthirteenversesthenameofthemanwhobuiltthebridgeandthe
year in which it was built. Near the foot of this stone was a fountain, a thin
stream of water flowing from the mouth of a stone snake. On this part of the
terraceacoffee-makerhadinstalledhimselfwithhiscoppervesselsandTurkish
cups and ever-lighted charcoal brazier, and an apprentice who took the coffee
overthewaytotheguestsonthe sofa. Suchwasthe kapia.
On the bridge and its kapia, about it or in connection with it, flowed and developed,asweshallsee,thelifeofthetownsmen.Inalltalesaboutpersonal,
familyorpubliceventsthewords'onthebridge'couldalwaysbeheard.Indeed
onthebridgeovertheDrinawerethefirststepsofchildhoodandthefirstgames
ofboyhood.
TheChristianchildren,bornontheleftbankoftheDrina,crossedthebridgeat
once in the first days of their lives, for they were always taken across in their first week to be christened. But all the other children, those who were born on
therightbankandtheMoslemchildrenwhowerenotchristenedatall,passed,
ashadoncetheirfathersandtheirgrandfathers,themainpartoftheirchildhood
onoraroundthebridge.Theyfishedarounditorhunteddovesunderitsarches.
Fromtheirveryearliestyears,theireyesgrewaccustomedtothelovelylinesof
thisgreatstonestructurebuiltofshiningporousstone,regularlyandfaultlessly
cut.Theyknewallthebossesandconcavitiesofthemasons,aswellasallthe
tales and legends associated with the existence and building of the bridge, in
which reality and imagination, waking and dream, were wonderfully and
inextricablymingled.Theyhadalwaysknownthesethingsasiftheyhadcome
into the world with them, even as they knew their prayers, but could not
rememberfromwhomtheyhadlearntthemnorwhentheyhadfirstheardthem.
They knew that the bridge had been built by the Grand Vezir, Mehmed Pasha,
whohadbeenborninthenearbyvillageofSokolovići,justonthefarsideofone
ofthosemountainswhichencircledthebridgeandthetown.OnlyaVezircould
havegivenallthatwasneededtobuildthislastingwonderofstone(aVezir—to
thechildren'smindsthatwassomethingfabulous,immense,terribleandfarfrom
clear). It was built by Rade the Mason, who must have lived for hundreds of
yearstohavebeenabletobuildallthatwaslovely
and lasting in the Serbian lands, that legendary and in fact nameless master
whom all people desire and dream of, since they do not want to have to
remember or be indebted to too many, even in memory. They knew that the vila of the boatmen had hindered its building, as always and everywhere thereissomeonetohinderbuilding,destroyingbynightwhathadbeenbuiltby
day, until 'something' had whispered from the waters and counselled Rade the
Mason to find two infant children, twins, brother and sister, named Stoja and
Ostoja,andwallthemintothecentralpierofthebridge.Arewardwaspromised
towhoeverfoundthemandbroughtthemhither.
Atlasttheguardsfoundsuchtwins,stillatthebreast,inadistantvillageandthe
Vezir's men took them away by force; but when they were taking them away,
their mother would not be parted from them and, weeping and wailing,
insensibletoblowsandtocurses,stumbledafterthemasfarasVišegraditself,
whereshesucceededinforcingherwaytoRadetheMason.
Thechildrenwerewalledintothepier,foritcouldnotbeotherwise,butRade,
they say, had pity on them and left openings in the pier through which the
unhappymothercouldfeedhersacrificedchildren.Thosearethefinelycarved
blind windows, narrow as loopholes, in which the wild doves now nest. In
memoryofthat,themother'smilkhasflowedfromthosewallsforhundredsof
years.Thatisthethinwhitestreamwhich,atcertaintimesofyear,flowsfrom
that faultless masonry and leaves an indelible mark on the stone. (The idea of
woman's milk stirs in the childish mind a feeling at once too intimate and too
close,yetatthesametimevagueandmysteriouslikeVezirsandmasons,which
disturbsandrepulsesthem.)Menscrapethosemilkytracesoffthepiersandsell
themasmedicinalpowdertowomenwhohavenomilkaftergivingbirth.
Inthecentralpierofthebridge,belowthe kapia, thereisalargeropening,along
narrowgatewaywithoutgates,likeagiganticloophole.Inthatpier,theysay,isa
great room, a gloomy hall, in which a black Arab lives. All the children know
this.Intheirdreamsandintheirfanciesheplaysagreatrole.Ifheshouldappear
toanyone,thatmanmustdie.Notasinglechildhasseenhimyet,forchildrendo
notdie.ButHamid,theasthmaticporter,withbloodshoteyes,continuallydrunk
or suffering from a hangover, saw him one night and that very same night he
died, over there by the wall. It is true that he was blind drunk at the time and passedthenightonthebridgeundertheopenskyinatemperatureof—15°C.
The children used to gaze from the bank into that dark opening as into a gulf
which is both terrible and fascinating. They would agree to look at it without
