The Bridge on the Drina

In the town, distant echoes of the progress of the 19th century are hardly felt. The occupation has become familiar and accepted. As much as newcomers to the town bring new ideas and words, these newcomers also pick up the old ways in equal measure. The methods of taxation and administration are less cruel and crude than the old Turkish methods. Hotels, canteen, and workshops are built as more foreigners come to do business in the town. There is more money in the town and more conspicuous spending.

The hotel—named Lotte’s Hotel by the locals after the woman who runs it—is one of the largest buildings in the town. It has two bars, one smaller and separated, used only by “officials, officers, and the richer townspeople” (177). Lotte is there constantly, listening to her customers’ stories and secrets while giving nothing away herself. Many desire her but she rises above them all. A wealthy woman, she donates to the poor and needy. Lotte works hard. She has a small office for administrative purpose and corresponds with an extensive family network, of which she is at the center.

One night in 1885, she listens to the complaints of a lovesick customer who has been drinking for days and acting in an anti-social manner. She attends to all of her guests, still finding time for all of her chores and correspondences. She also finds time for Alibeg Pašić, the one man whom the town believes “had won Lotte’s sympathy” (183). He is a quiet, reserved man and has never married. In the other room, the bar staff deal with unruly customers by calling in Milan, the tall, strong orderly, who throws undesirable customers into the street. 

If a person is removed from the hotel, there are many places for them to “recover [their] spirits and [their] strength” (186). These include the kapia, Zarije’s inn, and musicians who go from inn to inn. There are people who appear in the various inns, singing and drinking and being merry, whose work lays in “the time-wasting of others” (188). Among their number is Salko Ćorkan, known as One-Eyed Salko.

Salko is “washed out and old before his time” (189) after a life of indulgence. One day, he resolves not to rise to the jokes of others. He pretends to sleep in a bar, listening to their jeers about a woman he once loved, but he cannot remain silent long. He leaps around the inn, drinking rum. He reminisces about Paša, a pretty young girl who Salko courted the previous year. The girl’s interest in Salko had been a cruel joke, played on him by others. However, on those nights when he drank and dreamed of being with her, he felt free from his painful existence. Paša married another man, a successful man whose first marriage had produced no children. This was the “beginning of Ćorkan’s great sufferings.”

The others take delight in his suffering, getting him drunk to the point where he cannot distinguish their jokes from the truth. They joke about him killing himself and he admits to having considered it. Early one morning, they fall out of an inn and drunkenly dare Salko to try and walk along the thin parapet of the bridge. He accepts. His drunken stumbles become a dance. He sings. He crosses to the other side, where the drunks congratulate him and embrace him. They decide to carry on drinking. Passing children stare wide-eyed and have fixed in their memory the image of Ćorkan the One-Eyed dancing along the parapet. 

After 20 years of occupation, it is the “longest period of peace and material progress” (200) that the townspeople can remember. One day, a notice is posted on the bridge, announcing the assassination of Empress Elizabeth by an Italian anarchist. Pietro Sola, the town’s sole Italian, is the only man affected by the death. He explains insistently to everyone that he had nothing in common with the assassin. After insisting so much, he becomes a figure of fun in the town.

The men on the kapia discuss the assassination and the nature of anarchism. Soon the topics of conversation turn back to “loud conversations, jokes and songs” (203). In 1900, engineers come to inspect the bridge. A large repair project begins and large scaffolding is erected. The river is diverted to allow access to the foundations. As such, “customary life around the bridge was suspended” (205).

Alihodja now has three wives and 14 children. He is old, in poor health, and has rejected all of the “novelties and changes” (206) brought by the newcomers. He spends more time in his store and occasional closes the shutters and listens to the sound of the market, all alone. He listens to the “empty chatter” (207) of two men, interrupting to tell them that the repair work “foretells evil” (208). He tells the same to anyone who will listen.

After the bridge is repaired, work begins on a new water supply to replace the old wooden fountains. A pipe is laid beneath the flagstones on the bridge to pump in fresh spring water. Work also begins on a railway and a station is to be constructed in the town. The project is hugely expensive and strategically important for the Empire. In recent years, price increases have dimmed people’s view of the occupation. The first train passes through the town four years later. Alihodja regards it with disdain. The bridge and the roads are used less by travelers, who pass through increasingly on the train. Alihodja comments cynically on the time saved by travelers. The bridge ceases to function as the link between east and west, but the townspeople come to accept the existence of the railway. 

In 1908, this is “a sort of obscure threat which thenceforward never ceased to weigh upon the town” (216). There is a growing awareness of the world outside Višegrad; people found and join societies focused on national identities and discuss striking actions. This new political way of thinking does not change the townspeople’s habits, though “bold words and new methods of conversation [are] introduced” (217). The dynastic changes in Serbia and Turkey elevate political tension; the local police become more interested in people’s opinions. The railway accelerates the pace of life gradually and brings more frequent news. A proclamation is raised on the bridge, officially announcing the formal annexation of Bosnia and Herzegovina. Armies begin to arrive in the town, heading for the Serbian frontier. The area is fortified and the bridge mined. The idea of the bridge being blown up confirms Alihodja’s cynicism; he asks a soldier about it and is warned to keep to himself. 

The annexation crisis subsides, but many of the changes remain in place: The number of troops in the town is high, and goods remain expensive. New banks encourage more people to go into debt and spend money they do not have. There is an increased demand among the young for noisy, exciting lives. A distant war between Italy and the Turks leads to the town’s Italian resident once more finding himself guilty by association with his homeland. War breaks out between “Turkey and the four Balkan States” (229) but the fighting is far away from Višegrad. The Serbian and Christian armies win quickly and decisively but the wars leave a lasting impression in the minds of the townspeople. The proximity to Turkey is greatly reduced, severing the town’s ties to the east. The Muslim residents begin to worry. More and more students return from universities to the town and bring new ideas and styles of dress. Many of them have “a fanatical desire for action and personal sacrifice” (233), inspired by the nationalist military victories.