The people of Idvor, where Michael was born, were faithful to the
customs of the Serbian race, and during the long winter evenings there
were many gatherings at the home of Michael’s parents. The older men
sat around the warm stove on a bench which was a part of the stove
and made of the same material, usually soft brick, plastered over and
whitewashed. The older women were seated on little stools along the
wall and they would spin wool, flax or hemp, while the men told stories
of Serbian bravery. The young people, and even the middle-aged folk,
did not speak unless they were given permission to do so.
Young Michael was much impressed with these gatherings and by what he
heard. He remained silent as he sat by his mother’s side, for little
fellows like him were expected to be seen and not heard. But his boyish
mind was very busy and he laughed and wept as the stories were told
which deeply stirred his imagination, and he felt that there never
could be such brave people as the Serbs.
One of the great seasons of the Serbian year was the celebration of St.
Sava. St. Sava was a Serbian Archbishop who lived in the thirteenth
century, and the Serbs have ever since honoured his memory. It was
the custom to have some boy selected who recited before the village
people stories of St. Sava which had been written out for him. One year
Michael Pupin was chosen to do this. Although he could not read, his
mother knew the St. Sava stories perfectly and she coached the boy.
Over and over again, for many a long hour, she had Michael recite.
Every word had to be correctly pronounced, every gesture come in at the
right place, and the whole so completely memorised that there would be
no hesitation. At last the day came and Michael stood up before the
entire population of the village and did his part so well that everyone
was impressed. Even the boys and girls, who generally giggled through
the ceremony, paid strict attention and soon after the village teacher
said to his mother: “Your boy will soon outgrow the village school of
Idvor.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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