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obliged her to use uncommon circumspection. But she fell sick on the road, and was obliged to stop at Lubin, the head-quarters of the battalion. On this occasion she was under much obligation to captain Tauber, of the same regiment, who showed her uncommon marks of humanity, attention, and kindness, in a country where she was quite a stranger. Here also she had some difficulty to conceal her sex; for being affected with a general debility, she was obliged to commit herself in all her wants to the care of a soldier who was her servant, but who happily for her was a young man of such simplicity, that she ran no risk from his penetration.

She had scarcely recovered, when, having received notice that the council of war had transferred her to the regiment of Bannat, she reported herself ready immediately to join; and, notwithstanding the advice of her present commander to suspend her journey until she had sufficiently recruited her strength, she persisted in undertaking it, and arrived on the 6th of May, 1799, at Penezona, in the Bannat, where the staff were stationed.

Some promotions were at this crisis taking place in the regiment, and being one of the oldest ensigns, she expected to be promoted to a lieutenancy, but was no less surprised than hurt to find two younger ensigns preferred to her. Being sure of her ground, in so far as to know that the conduct-list given in her favour by the regiments in which she had before served had left not the smallest room for reproach, notwithstanding her mild and patient character, she present ed very sharp remonstrances, protesting that she should be ashamed to continue to wear the uniform of the regiment, if it did not repair the injury done her. In answer to this remonstrance she received a rescript of the 13th of July, which entirely satisfied her, the regiment declaring that the mistake proceeded from not having known that ensign Scanagatti had been transfer

red to it when the promotions were proposed, but that they would not fail to take the first opportunity of doing justice to her merit; and in fact she obtained a lieutenancy on the 1st of March following.

She was now placed in the battalion of reserve, which generally remains inactive in cantonment, and was then under the command of lieutenant-colonel Einsfeld. But anxious to share in the glory of the campaign, she solicited to be transferred to one of the battalions of the same regiment which were then acting against the enemy in Italy, and she was in consequence appointed to the sixth, then encamp ed on the mountains to the east of Genoa, which she joined without delay.

Here she was encamped with her battalion, commanded by major Paulich, and sharp skirmishes and actions more frequently took place than at any other of the outposts. She fought under that officer particularly in two battles that took place on the 14th and 15th of Detember, 1799, in the neighbourhood of Scoffera, and at Torriglia, where she had the satisfaction of penetrat ing first into the enemy's intrenched redoubts, which the enemy were then forced to abandon, but which they retook next day, through the superiority of force with which they renewed the attack.

In this unfortunate affair the brave major Paulich being severely wounded and made prisoner, with a part of his battalion, the main body of the army in that neighbourhood, under the command of general count de Klenau, was obliged immediately to retire. Ensign Scanagatti was then ordered to post himself at Barba Gelata, with a small detachment, in order to cover the retreat on that side; and on the 25th of the same month received orders to join the battalion lying at Campiano and Castlebardi, districts belonging to the duke of Parma.

Captain Golubowish, and after him captain Kliunowich, succeeded to the command of the battalion,

which, about the end of February, 1800, was sent into quarters at Leghorn. At this time ensign Scanagatti having been dispatched on regimental business to Venice, Mantua, and Milan, had the satisfaction to revisit her family in passing through Cremona, of which town her father was then intendant.

Here she stopt a day and two nights. Her mother during all that time never quitted her sight; and having remarked in the morning, that, when dressing, she laced her chest very straightly, to efface every exterior sign of her sex, and that so strong a compression had there already produced a certain degree of mortification and some lividity, madame Scanagatti communicated her fears to her husband, that their child would soon fall a victim to a cancer if they delayed longer obliging her to quit the service.

The father, from the moment the news reached him that his daughter had introduced herself to the acade my as a boy, had never ceased to importune her to return to the avocations of her sex, but at the same time carefully concealed this transaction of a daughter of whom he received the most satisfactory reports, and from whose spirit he had also to expect some imprudent resolution if counteracted by violent means. He now reflected seriously on the most efficient means to be employed to calm the uneasiness of his wife, and, if possible, to withdraw his daughter without irritating her feelings. He renewed the attempt to engage her voluntary compliance, insisting strongly, among many other dangers to which she was exposed, on the discovery made by her mother, and offering to accommodate her in his house with every thing that could give her satisfaction.

This attempt was however fruitless. She answered respectfully, that she would not fail to pay attention to what her mother had remarked respecting her; nor would

VOL. VIII. NO. XLIX.

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she hesitate a moment to fly to the bosom of her family (always dear to her), as soon as peace should take place, and which could not be at a great distance; but she begged him to reflect, that she would lose the little merit she had acquired in her career if she should quit it at that crisis. Lastly, that he might perfectly tranquillize himself on her account, seeing that, in the course of three years and a half, she had been able happily to support her character in the midst of an army, and in a variety of critical situations. In this manner she took leave of her parents, and proceeded to execute the remainder of her commissions.

Meanwhile her father resolved to go to Milan, and in this dilemma to be guided entirely by count Cocasteli, a nobleman who had much regard for him, and who, being commissary general of his imperial majesty in Lombardy, and near the army of Italy, could be of service to him in an affair of such delicacy.

In consequence of his advice, and through the medium of the count, he addressed a memorial to his excellency baron Melas, disclosing the story of his daughter, and soliciting for her an honourable discharge.

The lady in the mean time have ing executed her commissions, while her father was, unknown to her, engaged in this scheme, returned to her regiment, which she found at the outposts of the blockade of Genoa, encamped on Monte-Becco, and near Monte-Faccio. On the same day that this latter place capitulated, she received notice that the commander-in-chief had sent a: order to the battalion to permit lieutenant Scanagatti to proceed to join his family at Milan. This permission, unsolicited by her, was equally disagreeable and unexpected. She immediately perceived that it must have come through her parents; but, though cruelly disappointed, she consoled herself that she was not discovered to be a girl, but was 3

treated as an officer in the very order of the commander-in-chief; and what confirmed her in this flattering idea was, that next day being at dinner with general baron de Gottsheim, commanding the division of the imperial army in this neighbourhood, she was always addressed by the title of lieutenant, and nothing occurred that gave her the smallest suspicion that her sex was known.

Amidst these reflections she resolved, on the 3d of June, 1800, to proceed on her journey towards her paternal mansion, but on the 8th of the same month, having learnt at Bologna that the enemy had just entered the Milanese, she thought it advisable to direct her route to Verona, to which the staff of the Austrian army was then transfer- red. She there applied for and obtained a new route for Venice, where her father then was, and where she remained, tired of an inactive life, till the peace of Luneville permitted her to return with safety to her country. And it was with no small regret that she left off a uniform obtained through the most signal merit, and supported in the most honourable and exemplary

manner.

To attest the truth of which, and the well-merited opinion of her zealous and faithful services, the commander-in-chief, general baron Melas, in a rescript of the 23d of May, 1801, announced to the supreme council of war, that on the 11th of July, 1800, he had conferred her lieutenancy on her brother, who was then a cadet in the regiment of Belgiojoso.

It is only necessary to add, that this adventurous young lady, having resumed her sex, in the bosom of her family is no less a pattern now of female merit, than she had formerly been of military conduct, fulfilling with unexampled sweetness and equanimity of temper, the of fice of governess to her younger sisters, and otherwise assisting her venerable mother in the details of family management.

For the Literary Magazine.

THOUGHTS ON THE APPROACH OF WINTER.

IN a short time the warmth which has so long invigorated the air, and the splendour which has cheered the human heart, and made the fields laugh and sing, to use the emphatical language of scripture, shall yield to the gloom of winter, and the smile of nature be succeeded by her frown. Nature will in this country wear an aspect as different from what it has done for some months past, as perhaps it wears in different parts of the universe. It does not appear probable that, were we indulged with the pow. er of travelling from travelling from planet to planet, nay, could we continue our voyage even to the comets themselves, we should meet with greater opposites, than the congealing cold of winter, and summer's sultry heat. Yet it would be presumption in us, who are confined to so small a part of the creation, to conclude that heat and cold are the only principles of nature. In other parts of the universe the air may be endowed with the power of operating in a quite different manner, a power which would, in all probability, destroy such brittle frames as ours, if our senses were not altered. But such philosophical speculations are not so naturally suggested by this vicissitude of seasons, as those moral reflections calculated to amuse the gloom of melancholy, check the sallies of levity, and open to the soul the exhilarating prospects of hope. That a time, to outward appearance, so dismal as winter, should be a season of pleasure, ought to encourage those who consider the world in a bad light, as an abode of misery and a vale of tears; for if the inclemency of the weather only changes or increases our pleasures, how can it be looked upon as an evil? yet the pleasures enjoyed during the winter season in populous cities by far exceed those of a country life, the hurry of dissipation being more to the

general taste of mankind than the tranquillity of retirement. None but minds of a philosophic turn are touched with the beauties of nature, but the gaiety of London or Paris strike the minds even of the most superficial. Yet whilst the young and fashionable enjoy the pleasurable season, the vicissitude by which it is produced should put them in mind that youth itself will have an end; and that when they are declined into the vale of years, they will be so far from having a stronger relish for pleasure, that all their enjoyments will grow tasteless and insipid. But no reflection suggested by this variation appears more useful, or more proper to be inculcated, than that, from this mutability of nature, it is natural to infer that man is a progressive being, and that his existence is to be continued through an infinite variety of scenes and changes, every one of which will add to his perfection and increase his felicity. This Mr. Thomson has finely expressed in his philosophical poem on the sea

sons:

This infancy of Nature cannot be
God's final purpose.

From hence likewise an argument may be drawn to silence those who cavil at the dispensations of divine Providence. Since our present state is so transitory, it would be unreasonable to wish that its enjoy. ments should be of so exquisite a nature as to attach us to it too strong ly, and so make the prospect of losing it unsupportable. The mixture of evil which we see in this world may then be properly compared to the cold of winter, which by the counterbalancing its pleasures, makes people more ready to resign them, and retire into the country without repining.

For the Literary Magazine.

ON THE MUSIC OF THE ANCIENTS.

MUSIC is as ancient as the world. It seems to have been born with

man, to accompany him in his painful career, to sweeten his labours, and charm away his cares. This was its first employment. It was afterwards consecrated to divine service; and having thus risen in dignity, it became of principal account among the people, in accompanying the traditional narratives, relative to the characters and exploits of their ancestors. Hence it came to be the first science wherein their children were instructed. Music, and poetry its ally, accompanied all their studies. They even deified those who were first distinguished in it. Apollo was of this number. Orpheus, Amphion, and Linus, for their eminent talents in this art, were accounted more than men. Philosophers applied themselves to it. Pythagoras, Socrates, and Plato recommended it as worthy of being cultivated, not only by their disciples, but by the best regulated states. The Grecians, and particularly the Arcadians, enacted the study of it by law; regarding it as indispensably necessary to the common welfare. A science so generally cultivated should have arrived at perfection very early; yet did it continue in a state of imbecility, and without principles, till the times of Pythagoras.

Till the time of this philosopher, music was so vague and uncertain, that it required an extraordinary effort of genius to reduce it to method the proportions which sounds bear and order. He precisely determined to each other, and regulated harmony upon mathematical principles. But he let the precision of his mind carry him too far, in subjecting music to the judgment of reason alone, and admitting no pauses or rests, but such as had an arithmetical or geometric proportion in them. toxenes, the disciple of Aristotle, thought, on the contrary, that this subject came entirely within the verge of hearing, and that the ear was the only judge of sounds. He therefore regulated the order, unison, and break in tones, solely by the judgment of the ear, and his sys

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nprevailed for some time, in reece. Olympus, a Phrygian, came soon after to Athens: he ina stringed instrument, which gave the semitones, whereby he induced so many new graces into music, as gave it entirely another air. He joined Aristoxenes, appealing for the merit of his system to the decision of the ear. At length, the famous Ptolemy appeared, and, with superior spirit, equally disclaimed the partiality of both sides. He took a middle course; asserting that sense and reason had a joint right to judge of sounds. He accused the Pythagoreans of fallacy in their speculations, with respect to, proportions; as well as of folly, in so disregarding the decisions of the' ear, as to refuse it that kind of harmony which was agreeable. to it, merely because the proportions did not correspond with their arbitrary rules. And he charged the partizans of Aristoxenes with an absurd, neglect of reasoning, in that, though they were convinced of the difference of grave and acute tones, and of the proportions subsisting between them, and that those proportions invariably depended upon the several lengths of the musical chords; yet they never took the trouble of considering this, so as to enter into the reason of it. He determined, there fore, in deciding upon the principles of harmony, to make use, not only of reason, but also of the ear, as being of assistance to each other; and, in consequence of this, he laid down a certain method of finding the proportions of sounds. Had the ancients proceeded no farther, music must be infinitely more indebted to them than it possibly could be to their successors. The ancients have the sole merit of having laid down the first exact principles of music; and the writings of the Pythagoreans, Aristoxenes, Euclid, Aristides, Nicomachus, Plutarch, and many others, even such of them as still remain, contain every theory of music hitherto known. They knew, as well as the moderns, the, art of noting their tones, performed by means

of entire letters, either contracted or reversed, placed on a line parallel to the words, and serving for the direction, the one of the voice, and the other of the instrument; and the scale itself, of which Guy Aretin is the supposed inventor, is no other than the ancient one of the Greeks a little enlarged, and what he may have taken from a Greek manuscript, above 800 years old, which Kircher says he saw at Messina, in the library of the Jesuits, and in which he found the hymns noted in the very manner of Aretin.

With respect to the manner of performing music among the anciens, it has been alleged that their instruments were not so complete as ours, and that they were unacquainted with those divisions of harmony that enter into our concerts; but this seems to be a groundless objection. The lyre, for instance, was certainly a very harmonious instrument; and, in the time of Plato, it was so constructed, and so full of variety, that he regarded it as dangerous, and too apt to relax the mind. When Anacreon flourished, it had already obtained forty strings. Ptolemy and Porphyry describe instruments resembling the lute and theorbo, having a handle with keys belonging to it, and the strings extended from the handle over a concave body of wood. At Rome is an ancient statue of Orpheus, with a musical bow in his right hand, and a kind of violin in his left. And there is a passage in Tertullian, which deserves particular consideration: 'What an astonishing hydraulic organ,' says he, 'was that of Archimedes; composed of such a number of pieces, consisting each of so many different parts, connected by such a quantity of joints, and containing such a variety of pipes for the imitation of voices, conveyed in such a multitude of sounds, modulated into such a diversity of tones, breathed from such an immense combination of flutes; and yet, all taken together, constituting but one single instrument !' In this passage, it is apparent, that

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