In 1864, with the financial support of Simeon Negovan, and probably at his suggestion, Emilian Josimović, a teacher at the lyceum and the high school, set about drawing up the first regulatory plan for Belgrade, which he published under the title An Elucidation of the Proposal for the Regularization of the Area of the Town of Belgrade Situated along the Moat. With a Lithograph Plan to Scale 1/3000. Bearing in mind the lack of technical means with which it was prepared, this work deserved respect, but found none among the population of the town or with the Administration. Josimović proposed that the abandoned Turkish Moat be filled in and the ground rearranged into esplanades and public gardens in seven crescents.
Old man Simeon, my grandfather, supported Emilian Josimović with both his reputation and his purse against the Administration, and against the landowners who feared losses in the proposed indemnification for property lying within the area encompassed by the “regularization.” Of course Emilian didn’t keep secret from Simeon his sketch for the reconstruction of the street network along the Moat, and certainly entrusted to his benefactor, before they were made public, all the changes which he had thought of in the composition of the town. But as early as the geodetic survey stage, Josimović took the opportunity to give a double warning of the danger of speculation in land, whose value would rise or fall for the most part in accordance with the location of the plots vis-à-vis the sketch. The government had bought up scarcely a third of the land from the Turkish expropriates, so that two-thirds were still for sale. Josimović wanted the state to take it all. In this he had Simeon’s support, or so it seemed.
Nevertheless, as is often the case when commerce and science come together in a development project, interests were common but not identical. Quickly it became known that Simeon Negovan, personally or through intermediaries, had bought up the major part of the land along the projected park, exactly that area which Josimović had categorized as of prime value. Simeon had paid a hundred ducats, whereas the valeur en recouvrement of the land was almost a thousand, and a year later the market price rose to three thousand. Breaking off family relations and repudiating his role as godfather (to which their friendship had brought him in the meantime), the now furious architect showered my grandfather with imprecations whose bitter traces, barely hidden by the academic vocabulary, can be recognized even in the Introduction to his An Elucidation of the Proposal for the Regularization of the Area of the Town of Belgrade Situated along the Moat. I consider the reproaches exaggerated, since without Simeon’s support Josimović’s work would certainly not have existed at all. There was much lack of understanding among the townspeople, particularly the landowners, and much indifference in the Administration. Furthermore, an architect’s greatest work must be exclusively in his mind and his heart: Josimović was entirely obsessed with the new Belgrade, and had no wish for anyone to make anything out of it along the way. Given all this, his complaint that he had “suffered so many unfavorable circumstances from all sides,” which surely refers to Simeon Negovan, is in no way justified, for he didn’t grasp all the favorable circumstances from which he profited, thanks indeed only to Simeon Negovan.
To somehow stop Simeon — not at all out of malice or to serve some higher principle, but to eliminate doubts about secret collusion between them, and therefore to make it impossible for Simeon to profit from this purchase of land — Josimović proposed a law to the government by which the resale of plots of land along the Moat would be forbidden, except to the State and the Municipality, and at the original sale price. To make sure that this law would destroy Simeon’s speculations, Josimović also demanded that the owners of plots of land be obliged to put up buildings on them within a certain time limit, “according to the regulations affecting the place in question.” He calculated that even Simeon didn’t have sufficient resources to build on all the plots simultaneously. However, before it was entirely certain that this regulation would become law, Simeon had erected, practically overnight and as if by magic, a row of shacks and hovels of any material at hand. In the absence of building regulations they could indeed be considered houses, since they had a certain modest resemblance to them. Just how modest that resemblance was can be seen from a description Josimović gave after his final defeat: “The hulk of an old boat, dragged up from the Danube by mules and plastered with clay and caulked with tin plate, was set up like an unsightly pediment in the middle of a plot of land, beneath which, in my lunacy, I had imagined a French park with a patriotic monument, and an ornate pool with graceful water fountains.”
And now of course, although I don’t have the courage to justify my ancestor, I ask myself: if Simeon Negovan hadn’t acted as he did, could Arsénie Negovan, disdaining profit, enjoy today only the beauty of what he possesses? Like it or not, in commercial affairs it often happens that you have to proceed by roundabout routes, defiles, and shortcuts, and resort to measures a more idealistic man would gladly avoid. Commerce is war: merchants must be continually at war in defense of Possession. You are attacked from ambush and you yourself attack from behind; you camouflage your own intentions and spy out those of your enemies; you sound false alarms, sign false truces, and put out false news. In such a commercial war there are no friends; everyone breaks with everyone, everyone plots against everyone, and alliances are unreliable and short-lived.
If, however, the property owner has in view the welfare of the nation and the people — even though this may not have been immediately apparent, or his act may even have seemed to harm the nation and the people — then the act can be approached with a clear conscience. Possession is not increased by profit for its own sake; it is increased in order to grow and multiply, and to live for the good of all. I know this from my own experience. Like my grandfather Simeon Negovan, I was exposed to all kinds of animosity even when my motives were the most honest.
I’ll relate only one such incident. During the Great Crisis of ’29 I wanted to take advantage of the ridiculously low price of building materials and also of the particularly low piecework rates. Earlier I had already bought several well-placed sites, on which I decided to build houses. But I had little ready cash available and was forced to count every penny, as they say. At that bad moment even the poorer tenants, particularly those who had no regular income or jobs, began to make excuses to avoid paying their rent, some for as long as six months. The individual sums were not large, but because of the number of delinquents, I showed a large deficit. This deficit threatened to destroy all my building plans. So I set about obtaining my rights. At first, of course, only in a gentle fashion. I paid a visit, reminded here, wrote a letter there, warned, cajoled, and where words were of no avail, began to threaten a little. In this way I finally got satisfaction from the majority. A few I had to take to court, though this was unpleasant for me and I almost became ill from the sessions. Among those evicted there happened to be an old lady living alone, a Russian woman with weak nerves, and as is invariably the case, a general’s widow. It was not surprising that because of her nerves she had to try everything until at last she managed to bring it all to an end. But was I really to blame? I’m not the one who beat her husband to death in a ditch nor did I start that Revolution, to have the widow’s misfortune hung around my neck in Belgrade, thousands of kilometers from her native Sevastopol! It was hardly a bed of roses for me either, and what’s more, Madame General had only herself to worry about, while without exaggeration I bore on my shoulders a whole small town made up solely of my houses, and all the future buildings which I had in my head. Moreover, had I been told about her, I would have closed my eyes. But I quite honestly didn’t know about the general’s widow; she had just moved into No. 18 Gračanička Street. It was probably because of this woman that I hated the house so much that I pulled her flag out of the property owner’s map and burned her model; the architectural reasons for that hatred must have been only secondary, although welcome in that they replaced the true ones. The widow’s windows were on the first floor, but unluckily the basement was high off the ground. Her furniture was already out on the street, waiting in the van. While Golovan was trying to persuade her to leave peaceably and without scandal, she broke away from the policeman and jumped out the window. Truly, it was all very regrettable and I, inasmuch as it was in my power, amply expressed my sorrow. I paid her posthumous debts, incurred her funeral expenses, and even meant to pay damages, but didn’t know to whom.