LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 2049, 17 September 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

CAPEL AND CAPELLO. By Arthur W. Pinero. ['The Bra Almanack, 18S0.'] On one of the few genial summer afternoons of the year 1879, a great orowd surged in and out of the portals of No. 14, Kawstou square, like the ebb and flow cf a tide, for no less a person than Mrs O'Brown, the Irish member's wife, was 'At Home,' with music upstairs and strawberries and cream on the ground floor. I gleaned a few particulars of the affair from O Smith (a middleolass relation of O'Brown s), who smokes a pipe with me occasionally, when he waxes moat confidential. • Sou know, my boy,' said O'Smith, between the whiffs, ' although I'm in the War Office, and am a member of one of the oldest Cork families and a relative of the O'Brown who sits for Co Golacherty, there isn't a ha'porth of hothouse digniiy about me. What I possess of that commodity is inborn, and I am the same man whether in a saloon or a cellar. Notwithstanding which faot, I own I do gaud up a bit for Selina O'Brown's receptions. A blue frock coat of the latest, or nearly the latest, style, for I bought it in Dublin in the autumn of '7l, a white waistcoat of creamlike hue with some silt buttons which once adorned a naval ancestor of mine, unmentionables of the most attractive pattern and the severest cut, and a pair of the thiokest boots I can lay my hands, or rather my feet, upon—these form the key with which your friend Michael O'Smith opens the gates of admiration.' 'Thefirit part of your description is indeed a dazzler,' said I; ' bnt why a pair of heavy boots, Mike?' ' On account of the crowd of folks, my boy. There's no making your way up and down the packed staircases or in and out of the rooms if, like cur ancient Achilles, you've a vulnerable heel. Indeed, when I first came to London, I was entirely tabooed by the O'Browns, but, bless ye. I heard of an approaching flare up there—it was a bit of a dance, I think—so L thrust my feet into a pair of massive boots and mixed with the giddy throng. Thero was a little unpleasantness at the time, but now I can always depend upon a card. No, my boy, take my word for it, the man who treads heaviest makes the dospest impression.' ' And you found your boots useful on Thursday afternoon, did you ?' ' Upon my soul, 1 never saw such a mighty crowd in so small a compass. Herrings in a barrel, sardines in a box, niggers in a ship's hold, or centipedes in an Irish lodging-house, are weak similies. The drawing-rooms were filled in a twinkling, then siege was laid to the ground floor, and the late comers occupied the stairs. In about an hour's time the atmosphere became rather of an indifferent quality, and then the sweetest strains proceeding from the fairest throats failed to assuage the demon of disorder. Music had a leaning towards strawberries and cream, and strawberries and oveam showed an incliuation for musio, and the two parties met upon the staircase, which, as I have said, was already tenanted. The scene reminded me of a Co. G-olacherty election. Jußt imagine the torn skirts, fallen flowers, crushed feet, hot and angry faces, and still the rush downstairs and the rush upstairs and the intervening opposition on the choked landing.' ' Where were yon ?'

' Soaring, like the legendary Dutchman snperior to the billows, moving freely from one spot to another impervious to the breakers. One moment dallying with the choicest strawberry of the season, the next I was enraptured by the heavenly outpourings of the most fashionable of Polbymnia's votaries. The boots, my boy, were my safeguard, stemming all currents and trampling down the fiercest opposition. Bless you, I was the only one who heard, with any pretension to comfort, the great musical luminary, Tommaseo Capello!' ' Capello !' cried I. ' Did you indeed meet the wonderful Signor Capello!' «Ay, that I did. Capello, the rage of London, the most celebrated fiddler, as well as one of the finest fellows, our century has known. He was one. of Selina O'Brown's Lions.' ' One of Mrs O'Brown's Lions! "What other personage could she boast as famous as Capello ?' ' The fashionable preacher of the hour, the idol of the ladies married and single, the ecclesiastic Aunt Sally set up in a pulpit as a mark for silken slippers, embroidered dressing gowns, satin nightcaps, and the less expensive enconiuma of all church-going London —the Most Eloquent the Reverend Stephen Kingdom of St. Allsandals, Piccadilly !' ' Good gracious, what a coincidence 1' * Yes, a peculiar admixture, eh ? Fancy a fiddler and a preacher being two bright stars in one firmament 1' ' Mike, said I, ' once upon a time I knew both Kingdom and Capello. They are excellent fellows, and it does me good to hear their names coupled. I will tell you about them if you don't object.' 'Go ahead, my boy,' murmured O'Smitb, with something like a sigh of resignation. Our pipes were reloaded and relighted, and to a listener just distinguishable through the thick clouds of the tobacco smoke, I narrated the story of Capel and Capello, as I now tell it so yon. It was in the month of November many years ago when the little theatre at Chucksford (about which I wrote last year) was burnt to the ground. You can fancy the consternation of the poor members of the company at finding themselves without employment at such an nnpropitious season of the year. Amongst these unfortunates were Tom Capei and Stephen Kingdom. Capel wss the leader of our small orchestra, and was an Idle and dissolute, but withal goodnatured and clever man. He wa3 a big burly fellow, then about thirty, with a wellbuilt frame, a little overladen with fat perhaps, a ruddy complexion, and a dark head of hair, crisp and curly—altogether a perfect picture oi! a man from a muscular point of view. When in the enjoyment of a few shillings he was to be found at the taverns, but when his pockets were empty, which they were very frequently, I renumber him as a lively, fascinating companion. Despite these tavern-haunting propensities, he possessed the faculty of despatching his tasks in a sound and bnaine3S-like manner, and it was unanimonfcly agreed amongst us that he "played on the fiddle like an angel." Stephen Kingdom was a dedicate, slightlybuilt, pale lad. weak in health and irresolute in manner, and, beyond an excellent education and a great deal of enthusiasm, without the slightest qualification for his chosen occupation. The youngest son cf a rich man, a Dean of somewhere or other, he had selected his profession against the desires of his family, and thereupon ail ties were severed between them. Tom Capel was rather shunned by ns, bat poor solitary little "Steve" conld not sfi"_>rd to reject the chance of even such a companion, and so he fell to tho lot of the fiddler, and they were chums. The fact is that Kingdom was glart of a protector. The days I speak of were the days of "chnflisg" and practical fan. ard I am ashamed to say that the poor litt?o utilitarian, for Kingdom held no higher position, stood in come need of a big friend liko Tom. Well, when the smash came upon us, the situation in which Capel and Kingdcm found themselves was a 3 awkward a one as you can imagine. The former, who with an effort cou'd have husbanded a little store, had of course neglected to do so, the latter had always found it a hard struggle tolivo "from hard to month"; and when, within a fortnight after the fire, the other members of the Chueksford company dispersed—the fortunate to fill engagements, the rest to their relatives or friends— ( these two fellows were left in the miserable

little town withont a penny is the world. Bnt Capel stuck to Stophtn. 'Steve,' said Capel one rromiup, 'the tide is remarkably low. "When I have resigned my interest in a spam violin, an ovorooat, a white hat, and an umbrella, wc shall he upon the mud, my boy!' " Isn't there anything mce of mine upon which a trifle could be obtidned. Tom ?' asked Steve. *1 hav« a rather ch'ioo coJleotion of foreign postage s'amja which, if the worst cornea to the worst —' * Umph! I have never negotiated sneb » thing, bnt we'll see.' In a few days Capel re-opened the question. ' Steve,' said he, ' we're on ihe mod.' * Good gracious me, Tom ! what's to be done ?' 'Have you any prospect of an engagement ? * Not the faintest, jtnd you V ' Similar position. I'll he back in half-an-hour.' In half-an-houi* he re-entered. 'Steve, touching that choice collection r.i: foreign postage stamp?, I bave just ascertained they are not negotiable. Awfully handy things to have by you, but that's all. Now listen to me. lam all right. Like the camel in the desert, I can wait till I get to the other side of the p!ain for my refresh. ment. But don't you think yon had battel drop a line to your father—temporary aasistanco and all that sort of thing, eh ':' 'I couldn't do it, Tom; indeed I could not. I would rathtr starve and die than do that. Don't you think that soaethLjg will turn up for us ?' 'Certainly, something will turn up. 1 have never for one moment cast a doubt upon the probability of some.-,■■lug turning up. Let us take a stroll. I mns' leach yon to smoke, Stove; it's a capital thing before dinner, instead of dinner.' After this Stephen begsn to lie in bed hall the day, while Capel was to bo found at the public-houses, a dependent upon the casual bounty of a few acquaintances. Their landladies began to grumble and threaten—things were as black as they con d be. Suddenly there came a rift in the cloud. Capel was wanted at the Hexminster 'Jheatre, ninety-five miles or mora away, to arrange the pantomime music. 'How will yon get to Hexminster, Tom V asked Steve with a quiver in his voice. No dinner of late and the prospect of losing his only friend had rather shaken bim up. ' How shall we get there, you mean. We shall walk, Steve, and vary the monotony of the journey by giviog a few musical entertainments. Undoubted attraction y;>u know —my fiddle and yoar voice, The 6now is on the ground, but it's crisp and hard. What do yon say ?' 'Tom, why should I ba a weight upon you ?' ' Poverty,' said Capel, in his best copybock manner, ' like every good or bad thing in this world, is better when it is shared.' Stephen grasped his hand warmly, and again protested. ' But I can't sing sufficiently well for—' ' For a few roadside inns ?' «Oh, Tom!' ' Perfectly honorable, my boy. We must live, and what better prospect than to lie our own managers and our own artists, rewarding ourselves by the k!nd expression of our own approbation and sleep in beds earned by long journeying anJ hard wotk? Let me see, to-day is Monday. We muEt bo off at daybreak to-morrow, for we are bound to reach Hexroinster by Friday at latest.' At daybreak on the morrow they started. From Chncksford to Potßwade, their first resting place, tho distance is nine miles. As they left Ohacksford behicd them a slight drizzling rain commenced to fall, the snow nnder foot became soft and sloppy, and at Potswade the walking was of the heaviest and most uncomfortable description. (To be continued)