Cattaro

“Towards the bottom of the Bocca it grew dark and gloomy. At lenght, on a small promontory projecting from a rugged and almost perpendicular precipice between two streams (Fuimara and Sgorgo), which rush out of the rock behind, appeared the town of Cattaro, called by the natives “Kotar” (p. 112) […] A castle, in a strong position according to the notions of former times, rises on the first rocky height above […] Thos town is another miniature Venice, containing a few thousand inhabitants, with pavé, piazze, and everything just on the same pattern. We here took leave of our steamer, which was to return on the morrow to Zara, and I hastened to go into Cattarro and secure a room somewhere, knowing by past experience that one does not always get such accomodation as one could wish in these old towns. I was fortunate on this occasion to get a bedroom, not indeed at an inn, for of inns there is not one in all Cattaro; nor in a private lodging, for every lodgingis occupied by the numerous Government employés, but at a Trattoria. On my return even this was engaged; and the master was proposing to remove the cloth from one of his dining tables for my couch, when I luckily received a kind invitation from a friend I had made my first visit. To proceed: the character of the place is not badly represented in its cathedral, a Byzantine building of the eight century (p.114) […] Everything looks as sombre as if it were intended to harmonize with those deep shadows which the sorrounding mountains throw around. The men wear dark-coloured brown or chocolate breeches and mantles, which, if white, are yet edged with black. Their cap is red, in this alone distinguished from the Montenegrins, who frequent Cattaro in large numbers, especially on market-days, and mix no livelier hue with the black and (would-be) white colours of their costume.” (p. 117)