Spring breezes over the blue,
now lightly frolicking in some tropic bay
Christopher Brennan 1897
[920kb]
There is little documentation of my
father's early years. He was born in Tooting, London, on 20 July, 1895, youngest son of
Charles William and Mary Keats and was christened Horace Stanley. At times his family
referred to him as Stanley, although he preferred to be known as Horace. His mother was a
tall, good-looking woman and he resembled her more than he did his father. She was of
Irish extraction and her maiden name was Clifford. Little seems to be known of her except
that, as a nurse, she boasted that often she had the honour of handing the last glass of
water to the dying. Her letters, written during World War II, reveal her as religious.
Every letter ended by asking for her children's prayers, for she claimed that these
enabled her and her husband to survive the air raids. Prior to their golden wedding
anniversary, her husband became a Catholic and this was a peak experience of her life.
Although she was extremely proud of the
achievements of her sons, she forever lamented the death of a daughter born a year or so
after the birth of her youngest son, Horace. Girls are such a comfort to their mothers,
occurred again and again in letters to my mother. In one of her later letters, she
said: Oh how I would love to end our days with you all but the times have made me
realise I am 74 and I fear I want a daughter this end to help us though I still do all for
us.
Charles William Keats, smaller in stature
than his wife, was related to a Captain Keats who sailed with Drake. Two instruments of
war, a blunderbuss and a dirk which, according to great-uncle Harry Keats, belonged to
this sailor, remain in the family's possession. It also accounts for the salt in the
family blood which evidenced itself in the early life of my father and then flowed on to
both me, my brother and my son. Keats senior was a salesman for Roneo Duplicators and had
some musical talent. He was for ten years a leading bass in Sir Thomas Beecham's Covent
Garden Choir. It was said in an article in The Worthing Herald that he was
recalled from holidays in the Isle of Wight to sing at a command performance with that
choir. Sometimes both father and younger son Horace sang together at various church
functions.
Horace Keats trained at Brompton Oratory
which was close to the family home at Wandsworth. He showed noteworthy musical promise and
was fostered accordingly by the Choir Master until his voice broke. Other musical training
was confined to piano lessons which lasted for one term and were terminated by his
parents, simply because he would not practice. Up until his early teenage years, he lived
with his parents and elder brother, Albert. The boys attended the Salesian School, a
Catholic school situated at East Hill, a part of Wandsworth.
So much of home entertainment in those
early years consisted of singing around and performing on the piano and the Keats were no
exception to this. Their younger son excelled as a singer; however, apart from the choral
training he was given, no formal singing training was ever offered. At the age of twelve,
he won a prize of one pound for singing in a competition organised through The Tatler,
an illustrated journal of society and the stage. The following year, 1908, he left school.
He had won a prize in mathematics and, on the speech day in which that prize was
presented, young Horace both sang and played the piano.
During August of 1909, approximately twelve
months after leaving school, Keats applied for the position of Junior Clerk in the Town
Clerk's Office at Newcastle upon Tyne. This is a considerable distance from Wandsworth and
may have come about because of the unhappy home life alluded to in letters from his
parents in the years to come. It appears that his older brother Albert was the family
favourite, so relief for Horace could be seen in a move to more distant fields.
Nevertheless, he did not take up the position for he decided to use his elementary musical
training as a basis for earning a living. Consequently, during 1910, he worked as a
pianist for the Grand Stand Roller Rink at Newcastle upon Tyne. When his twelve month's
apprenticeship ended, he departed therefrom with a reference from the Musical Director
describing him as "steady and reliable, also attentive to business and a very clever
musician." In spite of this, life on land apparently held little attraction for
Horace Keats, and he followed the calling of his ancestors and went to sea. Clearly he saw
this as an escape from the drudgery of shore-based musical employment and his family, as
well as an opportunity to gain further musical experience and see the world. His
appearance was mature and so, along with the aid of a little subterfuge, he increased his
age by two years. His Continuous Certificate of Discharge describes him as having blue
eyes, dark brown hair, a fair complexion and his date of birth was given as 1893. He
secured the position of Assistant Steward and Bandsman on board the SS Dover Castle
bound for the Cape Colony and East Africa departing on 18 May, 1911.
As a bandsman, he was exposed to a
repertoire of music consisting of well over four hundred individual pieces ranging from
overtures, operatic selections, suites, fantasias, waltzes, marches, sacred music, solos,
songs, entr'actes, intermezzos, romances, through to barn dances, rag time, excerpts from
revues, tangos and, finally, lancers and quadrilles. This broad musical exposure helped
him easily to obtain positions in bands and popular troupes over the ensuing years. The
voyage was completed the following July and he payed off in London. A shortage of funds, a
fact which was to plague him for the duration of his life, forced him to turn to his
musical agents, Henry and Kingsley, acquired prior to his departure overseas, who, at very
short notice, found him a position as pianist with the concert party known as The Mad
Hatters. Concert parties toured Britain providing light musical and humorous entertainment
and, judging by the seating prices which ranged from sixpence to fifteen shillings, they
catered for a wide variety of patrons.
During the next four years, he alternated
between working at sea and touring Britain with concert parties. In 1912, he visited
Sydney en route to New Zealand and there can be little doubt that Sydney Harbour wove a
spell which enticed him back and, in years to come, he was to derive great joy from its
foreshores.
All this time his experience as an
accompanist and pianist was being enhanced. In those days, passengers on ocean liners
frequently provided entertainment, be it with verse or singing and, in his capacity as
accompanist, he was exposed to a variety of styles of singing and, of course, to both good
and bad performers. In addition, he was also frequently called upon to provide piano
solos.
August, 1914 saw the commencement of World
War I. Like so many young men, he attempted to join the army; however, he was rejected on
the grounds that he was nearly blind in one eye and, already, there were signs of the
heart condition that was to culminate in his early death.
The commencement of the War heralded the
gradual demise of concert parties as a form of entertainment. Doubtless this would have
suited Keats who had his sights set higher and was looking for more prestigious work. This
materialised when he was engaged by Nella Webb to tour both America and Australia. Nella
Webb has been described as the incomparable American Diseuse. Her appearance was plump and
comfortable and she had a happy round face capped with fine brunette hair.
She possessed a voice that with
unhesitating accuracy sang every note in the middle without slur or error. The richness of
music sung was alternated with words so beautifully spoken as is the case with a diseuse,
which is such an ugly word chosen to describe a particularly pretty manner of acting.
Prior to his engagement as Nella Webb's
accompanist, he wrote to his parents,
I tackled Miss Webb as to whether she would have Harry [?]
back at the Victoria [The Victoria Palace London] but she said emphatically NO.
That is providing we get on well together.
Webb and Keats obviously got on well
together and, although he did not return from Australia with her, their premature parting
was amicable.
Their Australian tour commenced in May,
1915, and Australian Variety made the following comments on their arrival:
Nella Webb is back at the Tivoli. On her Saturday
opening she did particularly well. Horace Keats is still tickling up the ivories.
then
Horace Keats, the gentlemanly pianist for Nella Webb,
carries around a piece of excess baggage in the shape of a walking stick, novel in design,
and ghastly in appearance. The relic of former respectability must have cost the beauteous
Horatio fully four pence, and it appears to be worth every penny of the money. The pianist
refuses to lose it, but nefarious designs are being hatched by one or two of his
associates with a view to stealing the offending stick, raffling it and devoting the
proceeds to the fund for distressed ivory thumpers.
Needless to say, the stick disappeared and
hopefully any proceeds were applied to this worthy cause.
In June of that year, Nella Webb was
reviewed by a magazine known as The Green Room:
If anybody were left in Sydney who
didn't know Nella Webb, some of the strangers were introduced to her in this matinee. She
must have satisfied every critical mind. The artistic touches in her dramatic work stood
out as more finely expressive than anything that was done.
Keats planned to return to England at the
end of July on the Orontes. Early in August Australian Variety reported,
Horace Keats ... did not leave for
England last Saturday as originally intended. Instead, he will try his luck here for a
time at least, and there is no reason why he should not do well.
It appears that two prominent singers of
the day, one to return to distant shores, the other to become a life-time friend, had
recognised his ability as an accompanist and accordingly had prevailed upon him to stay.
These singers were Ella Caspers, ‘Australia's own contralto' and Peter Dawson,
the famous baritone.
Engagements Ella Caspers, described as the
Girl with the Voice of Gold, commenced early in August. The Green Room was to say
of her:
So long identified with concert work in
the old world, Miss Caspers is amongst the latest aspirants for vaudeville honours. The
move is a wise one, as this gifted singer appears to fit into a natural environment. Her
repertoire is of the best and thoroughly diversified. A clever pianist in Horace Keats is
responsible for the accompaniments. Miss Caspers' name on the Tivoli programme has been
the means of a greater number of dress circle patrons than usual being attracted to the
theatre.
She had her detractors however, and was
reviewed by C. N. B. of The Triad, a musical review magazine:
Miss Ella Caspers was by no means well disposed at this
concert, and gave a truly shocking performance of Caro Mio Ben (Giordani). Her voice was
quite off the balance; the tone was forced throughout, and the more it was forced the
flatter she sang. Miss Caspers Italian diction was depressing. Let me here remark that the
Sydney audience is apparently the most sympathetic and kind hearted in the world. Most of
the audience must have been perfectly conscious that the song was badly sung, and that
Miss Caspers was shockingly out of tune, but she received an ovation which can only have
been prompted by sympathy for the vocalist and personal esteem for her. After bowing two
or three times, she ultimately responded with Hayfields and Butterflies by Teresa del
Riego. It is a badly-written song and was sung without a particle of sincerity. But once
more, Miss Caspers received a tremendous ovation (they must have liked her!) She bowed her
acknowledgments time and time again, but the audience was insistent, and the vocalist gave
them that for which they were clamouring- the unspeakable Somewhere a Voice is Calling ...
.Her accompanist, [nameless though I suspect it was Keats] on the other hand played very
much better and more sympathetically than Miss Edith Dickerson. (Miss Dickerson had
accompanied other artists earlier in the program).
Plans for Horace Keats to return to England
as Ella Caspers' permanent accompanist were changed with his electing to remain in
Australia as accompanist for Peter Dawson. This was to commence a friendship and working
relationship which would last for many years.
According to Stage and Cinema of
Johannesburg, Peter Dawson, the son of Scottish parents, was born in Adelaide in 1882.
From an early age he was frequently told that he had a exceptionally fine voice and he
became a chorister in the choir of St Andrew's Church, Adelaide and, when he turned
sixteen, he commenced singing bass solo parts in this choir.
When he left school, he became a
sheet-metal worker in his father's factory in Adelaide. A singing teacher, Mr C.J.
Stevens, happened to hear young Dawson singing and encouraged him to take up vocal studies
seriously. Shortly after he commenced taking lessons, he sang the bass part in the
Adelaide Choral Society's production of The Messiah. When he was eighteen, he won
the bass solo prize against all comers in the Ballarat competition and, shortly
afterwards, he went to England to complete his studies.
In England, he was taught by Sir Charles
Santley for four years and then sent to Frank Bamford of Glasgow. Both regarded him as a
bass; however, later, Professor Kantorez, a notable Russian maestro, recognised Dawson's
voice as a baritone when Dawson came to study with him.
His first engagement, when he was
twenty-three, was touring the west of England with Madame Albani. Sometime later he
appeared at the Queen's Hall promenade concerts, under the conductorship of Henry Wood. He
then became associated with the Chappell Concerts and other fixtures and, at twenty-seven,
he went into grand opera at Covent Garden singing, in English, the bass lead in German
opera under the baton of Hans Richter.
In 1905, he married Miss Annette George, a
soprano who was very popular in England and who also shared the success of her husband
both in the UK and Australia. Four years after his marriage, he returned to Australia for
the first time. This must have been about 1909, the year Horace Keats left school. He
toured with Amy Castles, Liza Lehmann and Margaret Cooper. It was on his return to England
after this tour that he and his wife began to study together under Professor Kantorez.
Peter Dawson sang in English, Russian,
Spanish, French, Italian and German, although, during the course of the war, he declined
to sing in German. Included in his repertoire were over two hundred English songs. To
memorise songs, he learnt the words first so as to ‘get inside' the character of the
song. He then memorised the music. In this way, he claimed not to forget either words or
music. He frequently sang up to sixteen songs in one performance.
When he first went to London, recognition
was not immediately forthcoming, and so he eked out his scanty means by making wax
cylinder records for the Edison-Bell Company. These became so popular that, when the
vulcanite disc process was discovered, he was approached by the Gramophone Company (more
popularly known as His Masters Voice) to make records for them. They offered him so much
per song or a royalty of one shilling on each record sold. He agreed to the fixed price
per song. By 1916, his sales exceeded seven million. At one stage he was contracted for
five years to the Gramophone Company with a retaining fee of one thousand pounds per year.
In spite of these huge fees, Dawson dissipated his wealth. I have not been able to
discover what became of him or where he is buried.
These financial achievements were the
result of his mastering the art of record making. Dawson made a special study of the
technique of gramophone recording. He claimed that many singers failed to cover their
louder notes, thus emitting what is technically known as a ‘blast' which results in a
disagreeable rasping sound being recorded. His management of these technical intricacies
contributed to his recording successes.
His platform style is described by the
Johannesburg Stage and Cinema in 1916.
There is no bounce or swank about Peter. He did not come
on to the stage with a I'm-a-great singer-so-listen-to-this air about him. No. He is a
fine, robust figure of a man, and carries his dress suit well. At first his manner
suggested: ‘They tell me I can sing a bit; but I'm not so sure about it myself. If
you've nothing better to do for a few minutes I'd like you to listen to my voice and tell
me what YOU think about it.' Then he sang I Am a Roamer. The audience sat spellbound.
Every word and every note of this celebrated and difficult song rang clear and true. The
weight and volume of the voice were less than I had been led to expect from Mr Dawson's
gramophone records; but the singer was suffering from the usual complaint that attacks
vocalists when they first come to Johannesburg - relaxed throat. Otherwise, it was a
perfect and memorable rendition, and on its conclusion the audience sat silent for a
moment and then broke into a deafening storm of applause. Peter looked pleased, and
slightly astonished, as who should say:" What, you really like it as much as that?
You're not pulling my leg? Well, perhaps. You'd like to hear another one? But don't let me
keep you if you'd rather not." I Am a Roamer was the only classical number attempted
by Mr Dawson that night. Thereafter he wisely confined himself to light ballads, singing
delightfully, Parted (Tosti), A Chip off the Old Block, The Mountains of Morne,
Stonecracker John, Up from Zummerzet, and Young Tom. I say, ‘very wisely,' because
this selection proves Peter Dawson to be a clever showman as well as a great singer. He
can gauge his audience to a nicety. He knows just what to give them, just when to give it
to them, and just how to give it to them. By the end of the second or third song the
singer was on the most friendly terms imaginable with the audience. He might have been
singing to an informal gathering of his personal pals. And he caused a yell of delight
when, in reply to an insistent demand from the gallery for Killarney, he gravely explained
that he had never sung that song in his life. I could sit and listen to Peter Dawson all
night.
Many may not be aware that Peter Dawson
composed a number of ballads which achieved international success and were published and
recorded in Australia and England. The words were sent by many unknown writers in the hope
that he would use their verses. Dawson wrote under the names of J.P. McCall and Peter
Allison. The best known are Boots which was used as a British Army march, Route
Marchin' and Cells. All three were based on Kipling's Barrack Room Ballads.
There were sea songs such as The Fret Foot, Westward-Ho, The Jolly Roger, Deep
Sea Mariner and The Soul of a Ship. Some of the road songs were Tramping
Through the Countryside and Travellers All. He also composed a number of
Australian ballads, including Lasseter's Last Ride, Black Swans, Grey
Shades of Cobb and Co. and Whalin' up the Lachlan, the story of sailors who had
deserted their ships and, in their flight, carried their swags up our rivers as far away
from the seas as possible. Upon the outbreak of World War II, he composed a number of
patriotic ballads including Australia, Home of the Brave and Free, which was sung
in schools, and Sons of the Southern Cross.
Dawson's rollicking, jovial, and bantering
manner stood in stark contrast to his reserved and business-like accompanist. Their
different personalities however, were harmonious and, indeed, Horace Keats found a
surrogate family in Peter and Nan, as she was to become known to him.
There are many memories of Peter Dawson and
I would like to share one in particular. When my father built the roost for a ‘chook'
house in our back yard in Mosman he asked Peter to help. The construction consisted of
creosoted timber, and sheets of black iron Peter obtained through his brother. My father
was not a good shot with a hammer. Peter was holding a nail for him. He quite simply
missed it and hit Peter's thumb. The atmosphere changed immediately. Two men harmoniously
at work became temporary enemies. A deeply injured baritone swore most vehemently that
bloody Horace performed the act deliberately. The impact upon a four-year old boy was
profound, as Peter's anger vented in that deep voice truly frightened me. The two men had
no idea of this and, despite the blackened thumbnail, the friendship of many years
continued.
A review from Punch in 1915, said of
Dawson:
Peter Dawson ... delights with his
highly -cultured voice. Mr. Dawson's acknowledged status as a baritone vocalist elevates
the tone of the vaudeville stage. A special need of unstinted praise is due to Mr Horace
Keats, whose accompaniments are a complete and perfectly sympathetic expression of the
desired atmosphere.
In January, 1916, Australian Variety
said :
Peter Dawson the world-famous baritone
should prove a big drawing - card to the Tivoli management. Whatever his salary is, our
friend deserves, as no finer singer has ever graced the footlights of this famous house of
vaudeville. In all, the baritone did four numbers, and the audience were loth to let him
go, but the length of the programme precluded his doing more. That sterling pianist,
Horace Keats, is acting as accompanist to the singer, and his first class work is
deserving of a special line of praise.
The Theatre Magazine continued to
praise Dawson. His accompanist did not fare so well:
You hear every word he utters. The
delightful thing, however, is that in The Floral Dance and the Irish number there is
revealed the full rich tone of Mr Dawson's fine voice. Mr Dawson has a good accompanist,
after he drops with the first four songs his mannerisms the effect of which is to
irritatingly divert attention from the singer.
It appears that Peter Dawson, like Ella
Caspers, had a detractor in C.N.B. of TheTriad:
The baritone - it is absurd to speak of Mr Dawson as a
bass - sadly lacks style. Apparently he has no soul for refined presentation. His heart is
honest and he has fair intelligence, but no affinity with lofty ideals. His forced and
somewhat brittle baritone detracts from any graces of interpretation he may accomplish,
and his ill-judged attempt at the optional low D, descriptive of the underground
engineering of the sinuous worm had ludicrous results. A nicely modulated orchestra - and
Mr. Bradley is not often so indulgent - was quite sufficient to drown the note and reveal
Mr. Dawson, standing strenuously silent, with tightly in-drawn chin, swelling neck and
open mouth, as though garrotted by unseen hands.
The review concluded:
As I invariably pay for my seats,
refusing to be the uncomfortable guest of my entertainers, I availed myself during the
interval of the open door, and somehow forgot to return to the Town Hall.
C.N.B.
Singer and accompanist remained together
until late February, 1916, when Dawson left for Adelaide en route to New Zealand and
thence to Africa. Whilst in Adelaide, Dawson wrote to Keats who had earlier sent him a
portrait photograph:
My Dear Horace --- Many thanks for your
pretty dimpled dial which adorns the mantle shelf in the unconscious chamber.
Engagements at this stage must have been
sparse, for Keats resorted to selling pianos for Palings, a well-known music store. Dawson
said,
Did Palings present you with a motor
bike or a new pair of nice thick-soled boots?
Later, prior to departing New Zealand for a
short engagement, Dawson wrote to Keats,
New Zealand fixed up and it cuts
in nicely. I only have one regret & that is, that you are not showing there with me. I
will have to scour round and find a man on arrival.
With Dawson and Caspers overseas, Horace
Keats found periodic engagements and survived by playing the piano in picture shows, as
they were then known.
In April of 1916 he was honorary
accompanist for a farewell concert in aid of the Riflemen's Battalion Comforts Committee.
The farewell was for Lieutenant The Hon. Campbell Carmichael MLA who was responsible for
the establishment of the Conservatorium of Music in Sydney. This concert was under the
direction of Mr Verbrugghen and one of the works being performed, the Dvorak Quartet Op.
96 in F, [The Nigger] was played by The Verbrugghen String Quartet.
At the Conservatorium at this time was
Cyril Monk, once a student of Kretschmann, a greatly admired musician at that time. Monk
was leader of the NSW State Orchestra, the main performer of the classical repertoire
which Sydney concert goers are so familiar with today. Cyril Monk and his wife, Varney,
were to become family friends.
The Australian Musical News of July,
1922, said of Cyril Monk:
He and his collaborators were responsible for first
performances in Australia of the chamber music of Franck namely the Violin Sonata (with
Godfrey Smith) and sonatas of Milhaud, Lazzari, Ropartz, Elgar, both John Ireland sonatas,
and those of Alfred Hill and Arthur Benjamin. Also included were trios by Ravel and
Ireland and the now well known Ravel and Debussy quartets.
Of his own early life Monk said,
I was born in Sydney and studied music as a boy with
Kretschmann, playing in the Amateur Orchestra and getting what chamber music experience I
could. There was no flourishing Conservatorium in those days and no State Orchestra to
offer the young student opportunities. However, a successful benefit concert helped me to
Europe, and I spent two overflowing years in England, France and Germany. I studied mainly
with Papini. He had excellent qualities, both as a teacher and performer, but his pupils
needed to discriminate, to know what to copy and what to avoid; for the tricks of style
which were natural to him would certainly have become unwelcome mannerisms in them.
Soon after his return to Sydney, Monk set
sail for New Zealand where he spent a riotously musical year.
It was a great time, I did a lot of solo work, and we
had heaps of chamber music. Under the baton of Mr Alfred Hill I led the orchestra at the
Christchurch Exhibition. We toured both islands and thought nothing of giving two concerts
a day. Back in Sydney once more I founded my Austral Quartet, which gave recitals
regularly for seven years, and in which were associated with me, at various times Mr
Alfred Hill (violin), Mr Vost-Jansson (viola), and Messrs Carl Gotch and Gladstone Bell
(cellists). At this time I was the leader of the Amateur Orchestral Society and occupied
the same position the following year when it developed into the Sydney Symphony Orchestra.
Then Mr Verbrugghen came along and the old order changed completely. I joined the staff of
the State Conservatorium and of course have been identified with it ever since touring
with the orchestra whenever my teaching would permit.
In the years to come when Monk, Hill and
Keats were all living in Mosman, Sydney, there would be regular Sunday morning chamber
music performances in their homes with Carl Gotch playing cello. Another cellist,
Gladstone Bell, was also to become associated with Keats in early broadcasting days.
Towards the end of 1916, a talking point in
both Australia and New Zealand was D. W. Griffiths' production of the moving picture The
Birth of a Nation. Talkies had yet to be developed, so for a film of this magnitude an
orchestra, considered to be an integral part of the film's presentation, was required.
Themes for the orchestral part were derived from opera, folk and dance music. The plot of
the film centred around the basic differences of Northern and Southern states of America
during the post-slavery days and depicted the struggle between the black and white races
in the Southern States. The thematic music for the Southerners had Dixie strains and, for
the Northerners, their own war songs.
The film portrayed the perceived reasons
for the formation of the Klu Klux Clan, General Lee's surrender to General Grant, the
assassination of Lincoln, the sittings of the Negro parliament, overlaid with the miseries
of the restoration of the South and all linked by the inevitable love story. The orchestra
was directed by Horace Keats in New Zealand and the entire production there was managed by
J.C. Williamson Ltd.
On his return to Australia, Keats took D.W.
Griffiths' film Intolerance to Perth. As well, he travelled with this production to
Adelaide and Brisbane where he was expected to organise orchestras, play the piano and
conduct as required. Whilst in Brisbane, he applied again for the armed forces and was
rejected yet again. Upon completion of these tours, he had seen a large part of Australia,
by now his adopted country, and that attraction was summed up by Peter Dawson when he
wrote to Keats in June, 1917, prior to his return to Australia:
London is not as she used to be - all the sports have
joined Khaki-land fighting and ‘gone west'. The place is terribly thinned in manhood
and women predominate in every capacity. The pubs are sorry places these times, and the
stuff they sell - sorrier still. The beer has no guts simply coloured water. Oh let us be
joyful. No place for you Horace my son. We often talk over the happy times spent at the
T&G Building - our picnic up the Middle Harbour - the lobster suppers etc. Gee kid
that was some time, but I think we used to enjoy ourselves - playing and singing on the
Rickaros Circuit - the "great act" sending you off stage for a copy of a song
and me holding the fort with Rocked in the Cradle. Recollect Melbourne in the song
Glorious Devon ‘For the flower of the West, The first, the best The Piss (pick) o'
the bunch us be.' What a moment to be sure. ‘Say Peter -how about the Old Church
Door'? Sorry old man - haven't got it with me!!
More work was to be provided as orchestral
pianist with an operatic company brought to Australia in October, 1917, by Count
Filippini. In Townsville they performed Rigoletto, Cavalleria Rusticana and I
Pagliacci with a largely Italian cast. The Townsville Daily Bulletin made the
following comments in relation to these performances,
Signor A. Rossini conducted the opera in
a finished manner, and the work of the orchestra (one of the most popular features of the
entertainment) was chiefly notable by the excellent work at the piano of Mr. Horace Keats
who is alone as a player of this instrument.
High praise does not always translate into
food and lodgings. There were periods when musical positions were not available and his
brief sojourn selling pianos for Palings was not a success, so he had little choice other
than to adopt the path where his apparent strengths lay. This was his eclectic musical
experience and proficiency which ensured that, if any work in that field was available, it
would be given to him. The choice, once made, would be with him until his premature death.
The "spring breezes once frolicking in
a tropic bay" had brought Horace Keats to Australian shores where he was to find a
love far from the winter of England. For here, on the summery shores of Sydney Harbour,
the pattern of his life was to change forever. It was here that he would meet Janet le
Brun Brown.
The young girl stood beside me .
I saw not what her young eyes could see:
A light she said, not of the sky
Lives somewhere in the Orange Tree.
The Orange Tree
Shaw Neilson
[920]
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