I went on Monday evening with Miss Damer to the little Haymarket, to see “The Children in the Wood,” having heard so much of my favourite, young Bannister, in that new piece; which, by the way, is well arranged, and near being fine.(878) He more than answered my expectation, and all I had heard of him.  It was one of the most admirable performances I ever saw:  his transports of despair and joy are incomparable, and his various countenances would be adequate to the pencil of Salvator Rosa.  He made me shed as many tears as I suppose the original old ballad did when I was six years old.  Bannister’s merit was the more striking, as, before “The Children in the Wood,” he had been playing the sailor in “No Song no Supper,” with equal nature.  I wish I could hope to be as much pleased tomorrow night when I am to go to Jerningham’s play; but there is no Bannister at Covent-garden!

On Sunday night I found the Comte de Coigni(879) at Lady Lucan’s.  He was to set out the next morning with Lord Moira’s expedition as a common soldier.  This sounded decent and well; but you may guess that he had squeezed a little Frenchism into his intention, and had asked for a vessel and some soldiers to attend him.  I don’t know whether he has condescended to go without them.  I asked him about his daughter; he said, he did not believe she was in prison.  Others say, it is the Duchesse de Fleury, her mother-in-law.  I have been surprised at not seeing or hearing any thing of poor Fleury(880) but I am told he has been forced to abscond, having narrowly escaped being arrested by a coachmaker, to whom he owed five hundred pounds for carriages:  which, to be sure, he must have had, or bespoken at Paris before the revolution.

Thursday noon.

Yesterday came a letter to the Admiralty, notifying that Lord Howe has taken five of the Brest squadron:  but this intelligence is derived through so many somebodys, that handed it to somebodys, that I am not much inclined, except by wishing it true, to believe it.  However, the wind has got much more to the west, and now we shall probably not remain much longer in total darkness.

Three o’clock.

Another account is come to Mrs. Nugent’s(881) from her husband, with the same story of the five captive French men-of-war; and so that reading is admitted:  but for my part, I will admit nothing but under Lord Howe’s own hand.  It is tiresome to be like the scene in Amphitryon, and cry one minute “Obvious, obvious!” and the next “Dubious, dubious!” Such fluctuability is fit only for a stock-jobber.  Adieu!  I must dress and dine, or I shall not be ready to wait on your grandfather Seton.(882)

(878) See the Memoirs of this admirable comedian, by Mr. Adolphus, recently published in two volumes octavo.  The drama here spoken of was the production of Mr. Morton, and formed from the ancient ballad of the cruel uncle who murdered his brother’s children in a wood, that he might inherit the family estate.-E.