Still, though a better spirit begins to prevail, and outrages have become less common and flagrant, we found, in travelling through the island, a prevailing sense of insecurity quite incompatible with our ideas of the supremacy of law under a well-ordered government. Some of the mountainous districts were in so disturbed a state that we were cautioned not to approach them; and every one we met throughout our journey was armed to the teeth.
For ourselves, we felt no apprehensions, and took no precautions. In the first place, we were not to be easily frightened by possible dangers; and, in the second, we knew that a peaceable guise, in the character of foreign travellers, was our best protection. The violences of the fuorusciti are, it is well understood, mingled and tempered with a strong sense of honour. I imagine, indeed, that they originate for the most part in that principle, developed in vendetta, though degenerating into rapine and robbery. Outlaws must find means of subsistence as well as honest men, and are not likely to be very scrupulous as to the mode of obtaining them. Among such characters there will be miscreants capable of any crime, and therefore there is always danger. But, still, the virtue of hospitality to strangers, so inherent amongst the Sardes, as in most semi-barbarous races, is not extinguished in hearts which are hardened against every other feeling of humanity. As the stranger is secure when he has “eaten salt” in the tent of the Bedouin, the Caffre's kraal, or the wigwam of the Red Indian, so there are numerous instances of the Sarde outlaws having afforded shelter and assistance to strangers throwing themselves on their honour and hospitality. Mr. Warre Tyndale relates such an adventure by a friend of his. We will venture to give the details.
“In passing over the mountains from Tempio to Longone he fell in with five or six fuorusciti, who, after the usual questions, finding that he was a stranger in the country, offered to escort him a few miles on his road, for ‘security.’ According to his story of the occurrence, he could not at all comprehend the meaning of their expression; for the fact of finding himself completely at the mercy of six men, any one of whom might, could, or would in an instant have deprived him of life, gave him very different ideas as to the meaning of the word. In thanking them for their offer he elicited their interpretation of the phrase, and was not a little amused and comforted by their assurance that the proffered security consisted in delivering him safely into the hands of the very party with whom they were waging deadly warfare. ‘Incidit in Scyllam qui vult vitare Charybdim,’ thought my friend; but having no alternative he accepted their offer, and, after partaking of an excellent breakfast with them, they all proceeded onwards. For three hours they continued their slow and cautious march through defiles to which he was a perfect stranger; and while in conversation with them on matters totally unconnected with the dangers of the place, they made a sudden and simultaneous halt. Closing in together, a whispering conference ensued among them, and as my friend was excluded from it, he began to suspect he had been ensnared by the offer of escort, and that the fatal moment had arrived when he was to fall their dupe and victim. His suspicions were increased by seeing one of the party ride forward, and leave his companions in still closer confabulation; but the suspense, though painful, was short, for in a few minutes the envoy returned, and an explanation of their mysterious halt and secrecy took place. It appeared that the keen eyes and ears of his friends had perceived their foes, who were concealed in the adjoining wood, and that, having halted, one of them had gone as ambassador with a flag of truce and negotiated an armistice for his safe escort. My friend parted from his first guard of banditti with all their blessings on his head, and having traversed a space of neutral ground, was received by the second with no less kindness, and treated with no less honourable protection. They accompanied him till he was safely out of their district, assuring him that his accidental arrival and demand on their mutual honour and hospitality did not at all interfere with their dispute and revenge; and that if they were to meet each other the day after they had discharged the duty of safely escorting him, they would not be deterred by what had happened from instantaneously shedding each others' blood.
“This scene,” adds Mr. Warre Tyndale[46], “took place in the forest of Cinque-Denti, or ‘five-teeth,’ a tract of several miles in extent, said to contain upwards of 100,000,000 trees and shrubs, principally oak, ilex, and cork, with an underwood of arbutus and lentiscus; and such is the thickness of the foliage, that the sunbeams and the foot of man are said never to have entered many parts of it.”
Another instance of the honourable feeling and forbearance hospitably shown by the Sarde mountaineer outlaws, under circumstances of great temptation to plunder, was related to me by a friend long resident in the island, as having occurred in his own experience.
Not many years ago, he was passing through the wild district in the defiles of which we have just described ourselves as being engaged. My friend had a considerable sum of money in his possession, more, he remarked, than he should have liked to lose. “Cantabit vacuus coram latrone viator”—“A traveller who meets robbers with his purse empty may hope to escape scot free.” That was not my friend's case when he fell in with a party of outlaws armed to the teeth. The rencontre was not very pleasant, but putting the best face on it, he replied to their inquiries “whither he was bent,” that he was in search of them; knowing that they were in the neighbourhood, and would give him shelter, as night was approaching, and on the morrow put him on his way, which he had lost. This appeal to their best feelings had the desired effect. Pleased with my friend's assurance of the confidence he placed in them, the outlaws conducted him to their place of refuge, treated him with the best they had, and, next morning, escorted him to the high-road, where they parted from him with good wishes for the prosecution of his journey. “These men must have known,” said my friend, “from the weight of my valise, which they handled, that I had a large sum of money with me. It was no less than 600l.” The weight of such an amount of scudi could not have escaped their notice.
Pages might be filled with tales of the secret assassinations and wholesale butcheries perpetrated, at no very distant period, by the malviventi who swarmed in the woods and mountains of Sardinia; of deadly feuds in which families, and sometimes whole villages, were involved with an implacable thirst for revenge; of places sacked, and of travellers murdered and plundered in lone defiles. Some instances of a generous sympathy for adversaries in distress, and more of a gallantry displayed by some of the bandits which would have graced a better cause, might serve to relieve the dark shades of these pictures. But enough of this kind has found a place in our chapters on Corsica. I prefer relating a story which may leave on the mind pleasing recollections of the Robin Hoods of the Sardinian wilds. My friend, lately mentioned, who is universally esteemed and respected by all classes of the Sardes throughout the island, has been thrown by circumstances into communication with the better sort of outlaws, and occasionally been the medium of communication between them and the Sardinian authorities, to their mutual advantage. He has thus acquired considerable influence over those unhappy men, enjoying their full confidence, without which the circumstances I am about to relate could not have occurred.
It appeared that, not very long since, my friend had kindly undertaken to conduct an English party from La Madelena to Tempio, the same route on which we are now engaged. The party consisted of an officer and his lady, and I believe some others. The lady was fond of sketching; attractive subjects, we know, are not wanting, and the indulgence of her taste caused frequent delays on the road, notwithstanding my friend's repeated warnings of the ill repute in which that district was held in consequence of its proximity to the haunts of the banditti. Of all things the tourists would have rejoiced to have seen a real bandit, but, probably, under any other circumstances than in a wild pass of the Gallura mountains. So when the shades of night were closing in, as they do very soon after sunset in southern latitudes, and the party became apprehensive that they should be benighted in those dreary solitudes, there was considerable alarm:—what was to be done?
My friend, having politely suggested that he had not been remiss in pointing out the consequences of delay, replied that they must make for shelter in some stazza, which they might possibly reach. Accordingly he led the way by a rough track through dusky thickets, and after pursuing it for some time, great was the joy of his companions at discovering a house, where they were received with great hospitality, and the promise of all the comforts a mountain farm could offer.
The ladies had thrown aside their travelling equipments, the table was spread, and, congratulating themselves on having found such an asylum, the party sat down to supper, in all the hilarity which their escape from the perils and inconveniences of a night spent in the forest was calculated to promote. The occurrence was regarded as one of those unexpected adventures which give a zest to rough travelling.