Again we meet with female warriors in the struggle between Crete and Turkey. "Whether they have been effectual defenders of their country," says a writer in a newspaper eleven years ago, "or whether their enthusiasm decreased before the stern necessity of a camp, is hardly known, for very little intelligence comes from the mountains of Crete." However, in January, 1869, a body of about fifty Cretan Amazons, in uniform, was seen at Michali, practising shooting with carbines at a mark. They were, it is said, very good shots, and had been organised into a regular corps, with a regimental flag, which was carried by a religieuse who had turned Amazon.
The Philo-Cretan Committee recognised the patriotism of these Lakkoite damsels, by providing them with arms (consisting of a rifle of the English pattern with a sword-bayonet) and handsome uniforms similar to those worn by the Palikares. This costume included the fez, a corset embroidered in gold and silver, a short, piquant half-sleeved jacket, a white petticoat and "continuations," and the most charmingly neat buckskin gaiters. A cartridge-box hung to the belt, while a havresack depended from the shoulders. Picturesque sketches of these heroines, in uniform, appeared in the French and English journals of January, '69.
But while a few of the Cretan women have proved themselves heroines, bravery has been the character of those of Montenegro for more than half a century. War against the Mussulman is the object, the engrossing passion of nearly every Montenegrin—men, women, and children, cripples even, rush to the fight with enthusiasm. In truth, the Turkish Government has never been able thoroughly to subdue the Black Mountain. Women accompany their male relatives in all their expeditions against the infidels, wives are ever ready to seize up the yataghan and pistols of a slain husband, and avenge his death. Various heroic ballads have been sung or recited from time to time in the fastnesses of the Tsernogora relating the martial deeds of some valiant widow who has slain Turkish Agas, captured or dispersed, single-handed, whole companies of the foe, or in other ways distinguished their military courage and their hatred of the Moslem.
A singular incident is alleged to have taken place some nine years since on the occasion of a marriage before the chief authorities in Algeria. The official required the consent of the bride's mother, and asked if she was present. A sonorous bass voice answered "Yes." The Mayor looked up and saw a tall soldier before him. "That is well," said he. "Let the mother come here. Her consent and signature are necessary." To the astonishment of all present, the soldier approached the Mayor with long strides, saluted military fashion, and said—"You ask for the mother of the bride. She stands before you." "Very well, sir," replied the Mayor. "Then stand back. I can take no proxy. I must see the mother—the mother, I tell you." "And I repeat that she stands before you," rejoined the soldier. "My name is Maria L——. I have been thirty-six years in the service. I have been through several campaigns, and obtained the rank of sergeant. Here are my papers—the permission to wear uniform, and my nomination as sergeant-major." The mayor carefully examined the documents, and found them perfectly correct. There was nothing to be done but to complete the marriage of the young couple. The mother bestowed her blessing fervently with her deep bass voice in a manner which impressed all present, but the company were "more startled than touched."
The Brigand chiefs of Southern Italy are the last representatives of the Condottieri who ravaged the land in olden times. But so far from improving with the march of intellect and growing more civilized, the bandits of our days would seem to have very decidedly retrograded as regards the more polite arts of life; indeed, they are nothing but savage beasts, who can handle the carbine or the dagger, and have the passions of avarice and the thirst for gold added to the reckless cruelty of the tiger. These ferocious brigands are almost invariably accompanied in their adventurous journey through life by some beautiful fiend, either the wife or the mistress of the redoubtable chief. These women are often the most abandoned and worthless of their sex, without even the virtue of mercy—the tigress is not uncommonly worse than the tiger.
Amongst those brigand captains who, though almost unknown in Western Europe, have earned a terrible renown in the South of Italy, none was more feared and respected some seventeen or eighteen years ago than Monaco. His deeds of violence and daring audacity rendered him famous throughout the Neapolitan provinces. His wife, Maria Oliveiro, a remarkably handsome woman (about twenty years old in 1864), was his constant companion in all his marauding expeditions. She was unmistakably brave, but her nature was so ruthless that the sight of blood rendered her half mad. Monaco was at last slain in a desperate encounter with the Italian troops near Rossano. Maria was severely wounded; but without losing her courage or presence of mind, she planted one knee firmly on her husband's corpse, and continued to load and fire with extreme rapidity, exciting the admiration even of her opponents. At last she received a severe wound in the leg, and was made prisoner. She was tried by court-martial at Cattanzaro, and condemned to be shot; but this sentence was commuted to thirty years' penal servitude, and she had not been very long in gaol before the gaoler fell desperately in love with her, and they fled together. At a short distance from Cattanzaro they were met by her brothers, also brigands. They immediately slew the gaoler, who was of no further use, and Maria formed a new band of brigands, of which she was made captain, and commenced ravaging the tract of mountainous country lying between Cattanzaro and the river Crati. The reckless, useless acts of cruelty excited the indignation of the people for miles round. She sacked the villages of Spinelli, Cotzenei, and Belvedere; and in spite of the exertions made by the Italian Government of the province, who, in the autumn of 1864, despatched two battalions of the line in pursuit of the band, the rural population were in such dread of Maria that the soldiers could do nothing.
Another locally famous brigand, Crouo Donatello, was accompanied in his campaigns by his inamorata, who was as brave as he. In an encounter with the royal troops in August or September, 1863, Donatello, compelled to fly, left behind him this woman, who fought desperately before letting herself be taken.
In 1866, in a skirmish between the Papal troops and the brigands in the neighbourhood of the Eternal City, two of the latter were slain. One of the corpses proved to be that of a large, good-looking peasant woman, about thirty years of age, armed and dressed like her comrades. She was subsequently recognised as the wife of the bandit chief Cedrone; and the latter was inconsolable for the loss of his brave spouse, being seen for days and days to weep bitterly, though his followers surrounded him, proffering empty consolations.