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THE CREATIVE YEARS 1933 - 1938

the wildwood of adventurous thought
and lands of dawn my dream had won
I am Shut Out of Mine Own Heart

Christopher Brennan 1897.

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It has been said of Keats that, whilst in Perth, he was driven to composition by nostalgia for the far larger musical life of Australia's eastern capital cities, as well as to reassure himself that he was not, in his thirties, musically dead. He need not have feared. In Barbara Russell, who he had coached over the years and had thus extended her musical instinct, he had an exquisitely-tuned personal interpreter in his home, so it was natural that he wrote for her soprano voice. By now, his musical knowledge was catholic and all that was needed was the gentle nudge to catch the ‘glistening and broader day' that was given to him by his wife and Frank Hutchens.

He worked at the piano. He took a poem and, in his own words, saturated himself in it until a melody formed in his mind. When the song was written, it was sung for him by his wife who, is a great help to me in my song-writing. A musician herself, she is both singer and pianist. Her criticisms and suggestions are my guide. Before singing the songs she has studied the words as much as I have, so she is attuned to the spirit of them and understands their meaning.

My mother was known to say that frequently after a song was completed he would say to her, ‘I've got you this time', and this referred to some little complexity planted in the music. Many of the songs he wrote were pitched for musicians of high calibre. This was probably the reason for their rejection by many publishers who sought easy songs for their albums to appease a proliferation of amateur singers. Another difficulty was that the music he was writing was in advance of its time in Australia.

In early December, 1933, a columnist in Radio and Home wrote,

Musicians are interested in three songs by Mr Horace Keats (Programme Director, 6WF) set to the poems of Ch'u Yuan. Miss Barbara Russell will sing the songs from 6WF on Friday, December 22, at 9.12 pm. Personally, I feel that these songs will prove to be the finest so far written in Australia.. They are entrancing and somehow of a haunting beauty.

We feel sure that musicians generally will be keen to listen to them; and to further whet the appetite I have taken the liberty of appending the words.

The poems were presented under the title of Three Chinese Poems of the Wild Country and were, The King Who Became a Faithless Lover, To the Great Unity Who is Sovereign of the East and I Will Build my House on the Water. After quoting the words the writer went on to say:

A Note on Ch'u Yuan (332-296 BC)

The foregoing lyrics are from his ‘Li Sao', a marvellous epic of eroticism. The long poem, a literal translation of which means ‘Falling into Trouble' is actually a collection of mythological stories, delivered in the form of a similitude, telling how the poet lived and wandered to ‘bathe in the seething waters of Sunrise'. This cosmic vision is recounted in the truest Chinese form: the whole spirit too is caught by Mr. Keats' exquisite music. So we urge you to listen in to a musical delight.

In a set of programme notes prepared in later years, Keats commented on these three songs:

At perhaps some risk, I venture to preface my few remarks with the statement that I am not an authority on poetry, Australian, Chinese, or of any country. My judgement is, however, apparently sound as I have received from competent critics, support in my choice of poems I have set. And so, if I should blunder "where angels fear to tread" I pray your indulgence.

Shortly after I wrote my first few songs (settings of Chinese poetry) a Russian musician remarked to my wife that in some previous existence I must have had Oriental or Russian blood. Well, as far as my present existence is concerned I have not. My father being truly English and my mother as Irish as possible. So my liking for Chinese poetry is not accounted for thusly. I really think that it must be direct simplicity that appeals to me and many others.

The theme of nearly all verse from China is of meeting, parting or friendship. The Chinese does not usually unfold his soul in love verse as we know it.

Later he said:

When Chu Yuan who lived in the years 332 BC to 296 BC was exiled from the Court of Huai Wong whose schemes of military adventure Chu opposed, he wandered about the wild country of the Yang-tze for six years and finally committed suicide in the year 296 BC. During these six years he wrote a long poem ‘Li Sao' or ‘Falling into Trouble'. After boasting of his descent from the mythical Emperors of China and speaking well of himself generally, he mentions his relations with Huai Wong in a love allegory. The King who rejected his councils is compared with a faithless lover. This was apparently a commonplace use for verse in China. Chu Yuan had not an idle pen or quill during his six years of exile, and wrote among other works ‘Nine Hymns of the Wild Country'. These are fu fu in miniature. Now fu was originally a spell, and in its magical form was used by the priests to compel the gods to descend from heaven and manifest themselves to their worshippers. We have as an example the second song which Mrs Keats will sing, the title of which is To the Great Unity Who is Sovereign of the East. This consists of letting the ‘Great Unity' (or the worshippers) do exactly what they are doing to please him and informing him that (I quote) ‘our music has made him glad.' Upon completion of the song he said, the third song is of the Ladies of the River Hsiang, the subtitle Two Princesses who threw themselves into the river and became its tutelary divinities.

I have set another of the Hymns addressed to the God of Fate but we have not included it in this afternoon's programme. All the translations I have used to date are by the famous authority on Oriental languages Arthur Waley...

The music for Three Chinese Poems was completed on 26 November, 1933. Originally it was written for piano accompaniment and later an orchestral version for flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon, horn and strings was prepared. It takes four minutes to perform. The orchestral arrangement remains unpublished.

According to notes on the original manuscript of I Will Build my House on the Water, the first broadcast of this work was by Barbara Russell from National Station 6WF Perth on 9 December, 1933. One of Keats' first serious compositions, it was dedicated to his wife and was accepted for publication with the assistance of Miss Dorothy Helmrich by Cramers, London some time in October, 1937. It was printed in 1939. The proceeds of the sale of the song purchased a hall clock which remains in the family to this day.

Given his recent successes, by late in 1933 Keats had made the decision to devote more time to composing. This decision was precipitated by his being unable to get along with Basil Kirke, Manager of the ABC in Perth. On November 11, a letter was received from Sydney from W. T. Conder, General Manager of the ABC saying that,

as part of a number of changes which the Commission finds it necessary to make, it will be impossible to retain your services after 31st December, 1933. I trust that you will be able to find congenial work to do in other spheres and wish to thank you for your past services.

This premature dismissal was both unexpected and mourned by many, including A. D. Ross of the Watheroo Magnetic Observatory which was attached to the University of Western Australia. He was moved to write to my father:

Why this sudden alteration of arrangements has been made, I do not know, but I personally much regret your leaving Perth. During your stay in the West, I have felt that you were prepared to spare no effort to assist music in this community, and especially in connection with Music Week. I came to appreciate deeply your help --- and your forbearance. It was not an easy thing to organise that Week, and without your hearty co-operation and help we should have been in greater difficulties. I had also hoped that in the coming year we might have been able to do something more in the matter of the Symphony Orchestra.

The family returned by train to Sydney. The trip left a lasting impression on Janet Keats, in particular the sight of the magnificent Western Australian wildflowers. In later years she recalled them,

The wildflowers were absolutely wonderful ... there was a sea of sky blue of a little shrub ... it was the most beautiful thing as far as you could see, (as if) the sky had been taken out and put on the ground; ... and there would be another hill violet with [blossoms] then further on a brown and yellow [hill] and then every where there was the kangaroo paw, the glorious kangaroo paw just like a soft velvet ... and the everlasting daisies there were miles and miles of pink everlasting daisies.

Other memories of that trip include the appalling death of a young clergyman. Seeking relief from the heat, he turned on the tap marked Cold and was scalded to death because the position of the train's water tanks on its roof had boiled the water.

Because of the ongoing financial difficulties, the family lived in Manly with the aunts who had by now accepted the marriage, particularly with the advent of the children. Keats took up the position of official accompanist for the ABC. Before long, a number of the songs were taken for comment to Edgar Bainton, Director of the State Conservatorium of Music, He wrote in a letter July 2, 1934,

I have been very interested in looking through the parcel of songs you brought me. They certainly show poetic feeling and an appreciation of the moods of the various poems, and a natural feeling for the modern harmonic idiom. However, I feel a little diffident in suggesting a publisher to you because, quite frankly, I think in their present form you will find it very difficult to find a publisher. The pianoforte accompaniments are for the most part too difficult for the average amateur pianist and, after all, singers are so dependant upon the latter in most cases.

In Storm Music, for instance, the accompaniment is excessively difficult and would be very tiring for the left hand. In the first of the Chinese Songs, your notation seems to me not quite right and makes the reading excessively difficult. This also applies to Clearing at Dawn ... On the final page of the song which I have pencilled in the music When Soft Voices Die, the verbal accentuation again does not seem to me to be quite right The word ‘vibrates' I have always understood to have the accent on the first syllable and not upon the second. Do you by the way know Charles Wood's setting of these words. It seems to me a model of craftsmanship. On the second page again I think there is a mistake in the third line in the second bar that I have pencilled. In Plucking the Rushes and in A Wild Duck Flying the accentuation of the words seems to me incorrect. The second and third of the Chinese songs appeal to me most. Here, the treatment of the words is quite successful and the third in particular with its directness and simplicity would probably find favour with the publisher.

In spite of these daunting comments, during 1934 serious attempts were made to publish all the songs written to date. Although not rejected outright, the harsh economic circumstances of the period, coupled with the fact that the songs were more in the nature of art songs and so failed to cater for the popular market, meant they had little appeal for publishers. The publisher, G. Ricordi & Co. of London went so far as to say,

in view of the very unsettled state of things in the musical publishing world you should seriously reconsider the question of devoting more time to composing.

In later correspondence, the publisher expressed relief when Keats told him that he was returning to the ABC. The reasons for failing to publish Three Chinese Poems and A Wild Duck Flying were:

we are very sorry to say that owing to the very difficult times through which the publishing trade is passing, especially as regards songs, it has been decided by our Management to discontinue publishing further numbers for the time being and concentrate on the compositions issued by our principal house, as well as those issued by our respective branches, and therefore, much as we should like to issue something from your pen we are unfortunately, for the time being, unable to do so. You will be fully aware it is very difficult to get Australian music dealers in general interested in new European publications, [let alone] Australian composers which handicaps us still further.

Keats was most particular about obtaining permission from poets or their representatives to set their words to music. The problems associated with obtaining such permission, particularly for Chinese poetry, were numerous but were largely resolved when, in the last months of their stay in Perth, they met Kenneth Mackenzie. He was a young poet and offered to solve the copyright difficulties associated with setting the works of Chinese poets by writing poetry in Chinese style. Both the composer and his wife were impressed with this concept. They saw this as an opportunity to bring the works of Australian poets to a wider public. Although Varney Monk was doing the same thing, Keats moved away from the Lawsons and the Kendalls and chose more esoteric writers, starting with Kenneth Mackenzie.

Promotion of Australian poets was to become a cause for the composer, particularly in later years, for he could see the value of musical settings for broadcasting, since they would accommodate and disseminate two forms of Australian art via one medium. In his introductory remarks to his compositions, he also took the opportunity to include an acknowledgment of the relevant poet, both on air and at recitals.

When they left Perth, Mackenzie was to follow them, for he, too, sought the creative stimulus of the Eastern states. This brilliant young man's potential was described by The Daily Telegraph in August, 1947, which said of Kim, his nickname derived from his initials Kenneth Iwo Mackenzie,

[This] 34 year old author and poet, has published two notable novels, a limited edition of a poem, Our Earth (1937), illustrated by Norman Lindsay, and a selection of poems, Moonlit Doorway (1944).

He signs his poetry with his baptismal name [and] signs his novels Seaforth Mackenzie. His first novel, The Young Desire It (1937) won the Australian Literature Society's gold medal for the best Australian novel of the year. His second novel was Chosen People (1938).

He was born in South Perth, Western Australia. He was educated at Guildford Grammar School, which he left in 1929. From Guildford he went to Muresk Agricultural College, Western Australia, then to University of WA to study Law and Arts.

In 1933 he left Western Australia for Melbourne to earn his living by writing; in 1934 came to Sydney where he worked on Smith's Weekly, the ABC Weekly, The Sydney Morning Herald, and The Daily Telegraph. He served in the Army for two and a half years, [and] is at present working on two books for children and a novel.

The Moonlit Doorway, when released in February, 1945, consisted of ‘mainly love poems by a poet of strong intellectual and emotional force.'

Kenneth Mackenzie became a close family friend and Janet Keats, in years to come, wrote the following notes for a Ph.D student:

In the early thirties the ABC sent Mr Keats to Perth for a year. The layout of our flat in St Georges Terrace was ideal for music and in a very short time became the centre of a considerable group of musicians and writers - on the weekends it was open house and Kim (family name for Kenneth Mackenzie) was brought along by some journalist whose name I have forgotten. Mr Keats and I took an instant liking for this seventeen year old boy and for the time we were in Perth I think he spent more hours in our home than out of  it: he came and went as he pleased played with the Pekinese and scolded the children if he thought they needed it, which they probably did. Kim rented a room, almost bare and incredibly untidy, a few blocks away from us in St Georges Terrace. He seemed a very lonely boy and had fallen foul of the hostesses of Perth for some misdemeanour for which I am certain he was not to blame. The fact that anyone would take a seventeen year old seriously enough to close the door to him speaks volumes: I doubt if Kim had ever had the mind of a child.

 

In himself he was always fresh and clean - habitually wore grey flannels and an open necked blue shirt; he was very good looking and his fair wavy hair caused him much distress: in the water he swam with the grace of a fish (Mr Keats and I used to delight in watching him years later when he used to swim in our pool in Mosman).

He adored his mother and was fiercely protective towards his older sister who at that time was not in very good health. He despised his father for the pain he had caused his mother and vowed he would never become a victim of alcohol which has caused this unhappiness - but already even at that age we could see the beginning of what was to be the tragedy of his life.

Before the Perth sun scorched us too much, Kim and I often walked in the lovely King Edward Park - not far from our flat: he used to talk to me of his friend Peter Hopegood and the great encouragement he received from Hugh McCrae to whom he had sent some poems (later, when he came to Sydney to live they became great friends and Hugh was godfather to the Mackenzie's son Hugh) and of his love for the pretty young English woman who was later to become his wife and of his great desire to go to Spain- in fact, for years he continued to say that he was sure his best work would not develop until he had lived in Spain - alas - but of all these days the incident that shook me so that it continually comes back is this - one morning while walking he picked for me a glorious yellow wildflower which I had admired - we continued to talk quite normally - the subject I have forgotten - perhaps it was flowers - perhaps beauty when in a sudden quite unreasoned - uncalled for and most certainly unexpected rage he snatched the flower from me and ground it into the path with his heel and said "there you are - its gone - no beauty lasts!" The rage ended as suddenly as it started: but to me the horror of   the moment has never been forgotten: and yet this same boy, on seeing a woman friend cut into sections a spray of clematis he had brought her – said that all women are savagely cruel else they could not strip stems of leaves and cut into sprays as they do for floral arrangements.

Kim was very fond of music - whether he had had any piano lessons he would not say - but he very frequently played the two charming Arabesques of Debussy and played them delightfully and also he never tired of playing the accompaniment of the Duparc ‘L'Invitation au Voyage' in fact I used to tire of singing the one song again and again.

Never did I hear him play anything else - but these he did so well that Mr Keats always said that the world had lost a very fine pianist when Kim chose writing instead of music.

Kim did the most unexpected things - after our elder son went to the war he turned up one day with a very beautiful pedigreed Spaniel - at the time he was more than usually stony broke - because he thought it would be a companion for our then baby son Brennan - we called him Sinbad - Kim added "the soiler".

He greatly admired Mr Keats' songs and wrote many short poems for him to set. I liked to sing Chinese translations but it was very difficult to get permission to set them, so Kim wrote quite a number using the Chinese style - a number of these are very lovely songs - of course unpublished.

 The Duet for Lovers was written especially and given as were the others to Horace Keats. It was set for tenor, soprano, and string quartette and takes almost twenty minutes to perform. It was in rehearsal for performance for the ABC when our son [Russell] was killed on HMAS Canberra in 1942. I was unable to sing for some time so it was withdrawn.

Again in 1945 Ray Nillson and I were working on it with a quartette for the ABC (it is a difficult work and needs quite a lot of preparation) when in August Mr Keats died so it has remained unheard - except for a few Music Club recitals with piano accompaniment which was written early in 1942. It is a very lovely poem beautifully set and one day will come into its own, my son Brennan has his father's songs very much at heart and will not allow them to die.

The last time I saw Kim was at his home in Kurrajong. He had built a log home which was a delightful example of pioneering - the hills surrounding his home were yellow with wattle and the scent from these and the calling of the bellbirds I will not forget.

I can quite imagine why he played Debussy with such love - for he uses the same albeit wonderful pastels in his delightful work ‘The Young Desire It'.

I'm afraid I have not been able to give you much help. Knowing Kim has been a joy and a sorrow - such good times Horace, Kim and I had and such sorrow at great waste of talent - so many years with very little written - when his very soul must have ached with this thing that ruined him and eventually took him. (my mother is referring to his alcoholism).

May I wish you every success for your thesis - it is good to know of some who appreciate Kenneth Mackenzie - known to all too few in his own country - a man who - loved - laughed - and wept at the death of my son who came and did not talk but cooked me an omelette when death took my beloved Horace.

Although I do not remember my very first pet, Sinbad has literally left his mark. He had noticed, in the lower half of my father's new Lipp upright, another dog which had somehow invaded his territory. He did what any red- blooded Spaniel would do, attack! A large claw mark remains to this day.

The story of the Lipp piano also involves Russell's good friend, Gordon Watson. My father had recently purchased a Challen baby grand and, since it was the family's first new grand piano, he was very proud of it. The first Sunday after its acquisition, Gordon visited our home as usual and played. In the course of the performance, a note on the piano was broken. The following day, my father arranged to have the piano removed and, when in Palings, was informed that one of the last hand-made Lipps was available. Because it was slightly damaged, it was to be sold at a reduced price. My father bought it and it has since been passed on to my daughter.

As well as attempting to consolidate the past year's work through publication, Keats began composing in earnest early in 1934. The first song was composed in January and was for voice and piano. It was a setting of William Blake's words and was called A Thought. He made brief notes about Blake, probably for a musical evening:

Blake died in 1827 at 70. Best known for his Songs of Innocence which he wrote in 1789. Being a printer and an artist he wrote, illustrated and printed the book himself.

His work divided into three groups: first Songs Of Innocence and the like. Secondly his prophetic books...These he claimed were dictated by the angels. The last group comprise witty and scurrilous epigrams such as The Marriage of Heaven and Hell. His engravings lack broad [outlook] and form. He was definitely a mystic and saw with such an eye. But his supreme lyrics The Tiger, The Little Child Lost and Jerusalem will keep his name forever alive.

Other settings were made of Blake and Mackenzie and, on June 9, an air by Bailey Long Long Ago was transcribed for ‘cello and dedicated to Osric Fyfe. It was rejected by Schott & Co Ltd, London because "sales of this kind of music [have] dropped to almost nothing."

Despite the rejection, Keats revised the work for piano, violin or 'cello and had the violin part edited by Cyril Monk. In this format it was accepted for publication by Allan & Co, Melbourne and published in 1935. In simplified form, it was recommended as a set piece for A.M.E.B. Examinations. The following press release was made:

Amongst recent publications of music is a delightful arrangement for pianoforte and violin or violoncello of an old English air, Long Long Ago (T .Bailey), by Horace Keats who is well known throughout Australia for his work as pianist and accompanist for the A stations. The violin solo, which is edited by Cyril Monk, is arranged for beginners; but though the air is charming and the accompaniment pleasantly varied, it should appeal to more advanced players as well.

The work attracted a low royalty of five shillings and five pence and in 1938 Allan & Co. echoed the earlier sentiments of Schott & Co: it is almost impossible to sell violin music today.

Cyril and Varney Monk and Alfred and Mirrie Hill lived alongside each other in Musgrave Street, Mosman and the Keats also lived in the same street. All three couples were prominent Sydney musicians and it seemed only natural that they would play chamber music as the opportunity presented. Sadly there were moments when enmity arose between them, invariably brought on by professional jealousy.

To appreciate this anecdote, remember that Cyril Monk had helped Keats with preparation of the violin part of Long Long Ago and doubtless there were many times when it was played in its formative stages in the Monk's home. Varney Monk, who recounted this tale to Janet Keats, was familiar with the work. The Hill's and Monk's homes overlooked Sirius Cove and each had a long set of steps leading down to them. On a day of intensely heavy rain, Varney Monk saw Hill struggling up the steps, braving the rain to collect his mail. He only received one large envelope and struggled back down the steps and slammed the front door. Minutes later, the piano was heard and the melody of the Keats' arrangement was put through its paces in waltz, jazz and ragtime. These were gestures of derision since, it must be remembered, Alfred Hill was regarded as Australia's foremost composer, a position to be jealously guarded.

Alfred Hill was prolific in most branches of composition and is well known for his Maori music. Best known is the Maori Poi song and dance, Waiata Poi, which has been performed all over the world.

Hill's chief interest was in chamber music which included numerous string quartets and trios, piano, 'cello and violin sonatas, and many songs and orchestral works. He also wrote operas, including Auster which deals mythically with Australia's origin, and The Enchanted Flute, based on a Maori legend. He wrote the musical score for The Broken Melody and Horace Keats composed the incidental music for the same film, assigning the copyright to Cinesound Productions in February, 1938. As noted earlier, Hill was a conductor and he conducted his own works in England and America. He was also a violinist and viola player and a professor and examiner at the Sydney Conservatorium.

Varney Monk is best known by her music, Collet's Inn. This was a musical play written about the historical events of the early 19th century and the first inn erected west of the Blue Mountains. The playwright was T.S. Gurr who also wrote some of the lyrics; Varney, however, wrote most of the lyrics. As well, she wrote the music for The Cedar Tree, a musical play based on the early history of the Hawkesbury District. This play was staged both in Sydney and Melbourne. Varney was one of the first to set the poetry of Australians to music and she enjoyed success as a composer of songs. Some of the words she used were those of Henry Kendall, Henry Lawson and Adam Lindsay Gordon. Her Baby Ballads, a book of songs for children, with words by Lady Bavin, was used throughout the NSW state school system. Her versatility is seen in that she was also a singer and pianist, and many of the songs that won prizes were not only of her music but of her words.

The Monks had two children, a son and a daughter. In years to come, their daughter visited my mother in her final months and was very kind to her. Varney Monk, too, was a kind and endearing woman; however, despite having a son who was a cardiac surgeon, she had limited medical awareness. She had a cat and, as the story goes, Varney thought it was constipated. Remembering that she had seen Cyril clear drains with caustic soda, she thought the cat could be similarly treated. Some time later, the greengrocer came to the house to make a delivery and Varney spoke to him very slowly, "I think there is something the matter with my cat". It took the greengrocer only one look, "There's something very much the matter with your cat, Madam. It's very dead!"

The earlier letter from Edgar Bainton, indicating the difficulty of my father's compositions for performers, resulted in his revising the songs The Fishing Pools, Goldfish and Love's Secret during 1934. They were sent in their revised state to Boosey & Co. Ltd., London who found them interesting but sales of this type of music are so very limited, that we fear we cannot find an opening for them in our catalogue. There were, however, other spheres being explored.

In September, Paul Furniss, formerly a well known London playwright and then living in Mosman, supplied a synopsis to my father for a film Atsomari or The Love Quest. The work was described by The Wireless Weekly as a spectacular stage show set in Japan. It was a charming ancient tale of a princess finding her true love and their eventual uniting despite the devious machinations of a frustrated maiden aunt. Furniss prepared the libretto and had written some of the lyrics with Althea-Lambert Glasby. Horace Keats was to write the music which was for a thirty-piece orchestra. He began work during October and by 1935 it was completed. J.C. Williamson Limited was approached to produce the opera. They, however, were committed well ahead and suggested that the production be reconsidered at a later date.

Difficulty in having songs published continued, for, early in January 1935, Keats received a pro forma letter from J. B. Cramer rejecting Three Chinese Poems set in 1933. He also heard from Allan & Co., Melbourne advising that a contract for Long Long Ago was following and that the manuscripts submitted (probably all the works written to date excluding those already accepted for publication) had not been accepted: whilst they appeal to me as delightful I am forced to say that in my opinion they are too ‘ultra' for commercial success in Australia. At the best I think their sale would be too small, and for a publisher to be able to do them, he would require to be in London or New York.

Doubtless this is why Keats approached so many overseas publishers in the years to come.

Early in May, Paul Furniss prepared lyrics for the radio operetta Maritza, with a lyric contributed by Althea Lambert-Glasby. Another love story, it portrayed two art students of royal lineage who become the subjects of an arranged marriage where, for once, they lived happily ever after. Keats composed the music which is for chorus, an orchestra of fifteen and a cast of seven. The work was broadcast both by 6WF and 2FC on a number of occasions and, in one instance, Gladys Moncrieff sang the leading role. The work takes approximately one hour fifteen minutes to perform and remains unpublished.

Later in May, 1935, Te Mauri Meihana, a well known Maori singer of the time, was in Sydney under contract with the ABC. She was leader of the Rotorua Maori Choir and chieftain of the Arawa people. Keats was her accompanist and she made available to him a number of Maori melodies which he later arranged for voice and piano. These included Song of Farewell, with words in Maori, and Death Chant, both set on May 5. To the writer's knowledge, these remain unpublished. Uia Mai Canoe Song, although unpublished, is regularly used in New Zealand and attracts royalties today. Keats was also the owner of the copyright of a number of other Maori songs presumably composed at the same time.

Three Poi songs, Pakete Whero, Taku Poi, Taumarumaru and three love songs Hapai Hapai, He Riro Riro and Piwharauroa were also composed. All these songs along with Powiri Song of Welcome and Uia Mai were recorded by the composer and I believe also by Te Mauri Meihana with Columbia in September 1938.

On June 16, Urashima, a Japanese fantasy for soprano, tenor, chorus and a thirty-piece orchestra was completed. It uses a German adaptation of a poem found in the collection, Poetical Greetings from the Far East, translated by A. Lloyd. To obtain permission to use the words, Keats used the Australian Trade Commissioner to find the original publisher. The publisher's business had been ruined by a recent earthquake. Despite this, permission was obtained. It has been broadcast by 2FC on at least one occasion. The story concerns a young fisher-lad who sailed away and fell in love with the daughter of the Sea King and went to live with her on the Immortal Isles. His request to go home was granted and, as you would expect, there had been the change that can only be associated with the passing of time. This change now included himself and he fell asleep, weeping at his misfortune until he died. The work takes just over nineteen minutes to perform. Rejected for publication by J. B. Cramer & Co., in 1937, the work remains unpublished.

Kenneth Mackenzie had shown Keats an old Dorset verse which he had written down from memory. So it was on July 20, Yellow Bracken (Powys) for voice and piano was, according to the composer's programme notes, "born in my brain in completed form late one night, just before bedtime and did not take very long to put down onto paper. Certainly it was piano revised during daylight."

There is a string quartet arrangement of this song and it was also used by Charles Mackerras (now Sir Charles Mackerras) as an oboe solo. In a recent letter, Sir Charles says,

Horace played the accompaniment for my first recital on the oboe in the ABC's Market Street studios and I think of that occasion every time I pass the site, now so changed and tawdrily contemporary! As you say, I played "Yellow Bracken" with its intriguing changes of time and its almost "blue" last chord.

The composer said in another set of programme notes, that Yellow Bracken is the only writing of Powys I have set, perhaps for the simple reason that I have little else of his. Yellow Bracken was copied out from memory for me by Kenneth Mackenzie (who has attained fair fame as an author) and who could not remember the origin of the poem but adjudged it to be an old Dorset verse, its authorship lost in antiquity. Eventually (after a matter of years) I came across a copy of Wolf Solent, a novel by Powys, in which the poem appeared. I wrote to the author, who with characteristic artistic abandon replied saying, that he was proud to be the author of the line, but having sold the rights of the book to a publishing house, was not sure of his authority to give the necessary permission, but told me to go ahead as he liked the idea, and in any case, it was the easier way!

Here is Powys' letter of 29 June ‘38:

Dear Mr Keats

What a funny (?) thing to be able to write "dear Mr Keats"! Are you any connection with or of our greatest poet?

Yes of course you have my full permission as far as I can give for I don't know enough of publishing law to know technically I ought to ask my publishers or not. But it seems to me that an author can give such a right … So go ahead: as far as I can say so! I am delighted and proud that you should have put my song to words. Yes I invented it that ditty myself and called it Dorset.

I hope you will get this all right for I am not quite sure of the name of your town or city whether it has an "r" or an "s" in the middle of the word and is Mosman or Morman! But I'll chance it by making that letter look like anything or nothing.

My father must have sent a copy of the manuscript of Yellow Bracken to Powys because he received the following letter, written on October 10:

Dear Mr Keats

Aye! - how indescribably romantic and weird it still is to me & so natural, to you!! to write those words at the head of a letter!! I am very very grateful for this beautiful song for such I know it is.

This is the first time in my life I've had a piece of music copied out for me! How wonderfully you've copied it! To see music copied has one quiet interest for me of a literary nature for by copying music Jean Jacques Rousseau earned one of the few honest livelihoods that writers have ever earned!

But neither my lady nor myself nor any one here in the 8 little houses of this new working - people's suburb of Corwen have a piano, or can read music! So alas we will have to wait till we get out, about 9 miles by bus along the great Holyhead highway to the house of our friends Mr & Mrs James Hanley --- (the sea-writer, if (I wonder) you know him?) who are very musical and have a piano: & if they come to see us ere we can get out to them I expect they would be able to sing us this song of yours, Sir, by reading it without a piano.

Certainly I confess I never realised how I had caught the spirit of a real old ballad till I saw it on your page between your music. I am very proud of it and I know I shall be thrilled by it when I hear it tho' alas! not musical enough to do it real justice. But if I were able to do it justice I couldn't feel more gratitude!

Yellow Bracken was used by Dorothy Helmrich during 1936, and in 1937 by Jack Lloyd and Syd McEwan. This delightful composition was rejected in 1937 for publication by The Oxford University Press, London, and by Murdoch and Murdoch, London who stated the sale of songs has fallen off alarmingly and until this state of things alters we are refraining from adding to our catalogue this type of composition. It was also rejected by Cramer in October, 1938, and May, 1940. It has a performance time of 1.10 minutes and was subsequently published by my own publishing company, Publications by Wirripang in 1995.

Later in 1935, the baritone, Sydney de Vries, came to Sydney. Being official ABC accompanist, Keats worked with him. A singer of numerous operatic roles, including both Mephisto and Valentine in Faust, Escamillo in Carmen, Wotan, Alberich and Donner in Rheingold, and Don Giovanni in Don Giovanni, he was described by The Times,

The singer's beautiful voice was used throughout its wide range with superb tone-control, warmth of expression and dramatic power. It was all intensely moving, delivered in the perfect German of one who is at home in the sonorous language of Goethe, and the rapturous applause, in which the members of the orchestra joined, showed the musical receptiveness of an audience listening to a masterly interpretation of unhackneyed works.

On August 15, Keats set Fear from the prose of Montaigne. This song was written for and sung by Sydney de Vries, who also provided a German translation. Corrections to the German translation were provided by a family friend. There is also evidence of an orchestral version of this song.

Fear was submitted to Allans for publication: it is very fine from a musical and artistic point of view, but it is essentially an art song, and its appeal would be limited only to the most talented singers. With our limited market we regret that we are not inclined to publish it. This song was also sung by Laurence McCauley. It has a performance time 1.30 minutes.

Cramer rejected Fear in October, 1939. They were living in very troublesome times and publishing has been hit very badly, and it is doubted whether they will be issuing fresh works until things become normal. In spite of this, National Broadcasting Service in New Zealand said in a letter: Your setting of the song Fear is well remembered here, and has excited much favourable comment. The words of Fear deal with the states of mind of the wealthy and the poor. The song was subsequently published by Publications by Wirripang in 1995.

By now it was apparent to Keats that there was little revenue to be derived from composition. His only sources of income were as ABC accompanist and occasional engagements for recitals and music clubs. Accordingly, he applied to the ABC to be reappointed to the executive staff. He was curtly informed that no positions were available.

While living in Mosman, Keats became organist at the local Christian Science Church. Part of the Sunday Church service included a solo and, almost inevitably, Janet Keats was the soloist. Her husband wrote a number of solos based on biblical references for this church. Janet recalled how, in the years closer to her husband's death, she would observe him nodding off during the service and sit there in fear and trembling in case he would not awake in time to play the hymns. I remember, as a very young child, going down to the organ after church services and being overawed at the pedals and numerous manuals and stops, never dreaming that I, groomed for church organist, would one day play the same instrument

The year 1936 began auspiciously, with performances of Maritza both in Sydney and Perth; however, more rejections by publishers from London and the USA came for this and other compositions. At the end of December, the National Broadcasting Service in New Zealand wrote about Maritza saying: Concerning your musical comedy Maritza we must congratulate you on the obvious success of the production and the excellence of the notice. Such a cast is in itself a sufficient guarantee of the quality of the work ... Unfortunately we have no means of presenting Maritza at the moment, but have noted the fact that it is available, and should the occasion arise would be glad to re-open the question of the hire of it from you for presentation here. As well, J.C. Williamson was unable to see the way to produce Atsomari, suggesting that an amateur performance be given by a Gilbert & Sullivan Society.

The family were existing on my father's fees as ABC accompanist and on any freelance work he procured. The constant uncertainty of a musician's income makes it easy to appreciate why we children were actively, almost hostilely, discouraged from becoming professional musicians and why, just before the composer's death, pottery making was seriously considered as an additional source of income. Yet there were occasional glimmers of hope.

Some encouragement came by letter from T. Hasegawa, the Japanese publisher of the story Urashima: We are able to write to you that is entirely agreeable to the use by you alone of this text material, without fee, we will reserve the rights of allowing other people reproducing the said text. Later, the ABC, in a memo from Ewart Chapple, offered to pay Keats three guineas for relays of the first performance of this work. Three days later Chapple advised that future performances would involve a fee of two guineas for hire of band parts but the inclusion of this work will be at the discretion of the NSW Management.

It is noteworthy that Keats had exclusive rights at this time to the text of Urashima and little did he know that, before long, he would be given another set of exclusive rights to the poetry of an Australian.

Earlier in the year, a significant event took place. The words of Barbara Russell best describe it:

we were visiting Eileen Kennedy a friend and I saw a book of poems lying on the couch. Always on the look out for words to sing I picked it up and read for a while. I really wanted to sing those lovely words. Despite the fact I was told they were too hard to set….

The hostess was asked if the book of Poems by Christopher Brennan could be borrowed. Consent to the loan was given by Mr Innes Kay, Brennan's literary executor and the book's owner. The composer's own words further describe the event:

At a friends home she saw the book and borrowed it, insisting that I set some. I, with faint heart, begged for mercy, saying that it could not be done. However, it was done and we present some of the results today.

A treasure we prize most dearly is the volume of poems which Brennan gave to his brother Phillip and which he in turn saw fit to pass on to me to be cherished and eventually left to our son whom we have christened Brennan ... Altogether I have set ten.

At a meeting with Innes Kay after the visit to the Kennedys, it was explained that, before Keats could use any of the poems, he must allow a committee of Brennan's literary executors to hear some of his music. An afternoon was arranged at the composer's home. This was attended by Sir Francis Anderson, J.J.Quinn, Karl Kepple, Sir Frederick Jordan, and Katherine Donovan. These were people who were either associated with Brennan as students or who realised the high standard of his work and the necessity of its proper recognition. In the course of that afternoon, after listening to a number of Keats' songs, they consented to allow the composer an opportunity to set one poem on the condition that, if they did not approve, the work was to be destroyed.

By 1 September, The Point of Noon was set and, some time later, arrangements were made for the committee to hear the work. After that meeting, Keats was notified that permission was granted to set Brennan's poetry to music and he was to have exclusive rights to it during his lifetime.

On 5 October, 1938, the sixth anniversary of Brennan's death, Barbara Russell, accompanied by her husband, broadcast five of the Brennan Songs including The Point of Noon. The program notes written by Horace Keats said,

although this program is set down as "In Memoriam", rather it is a tribute to the beauty and strength of his poetry, for we set aside, just for this evening, his great work in the field of Ancient and Modern Literature, and endeavour to convey to you in a small measure the idea of his poetic power.

The Point of Noon was rejected by The Oxford University Press in 1937. This song takes three minutes to perform and has been published by Publications by Wirripang in 1994. A string quartet arrangement has also been published.

The following comments about the Brennan Songs reveal his feelings about this great poet and his gratitude at having "this field of beautiful poems" to set to music. I believe that the Brennan Songs were my father's greatest works and, despite the lack of popular recognition both then and now, are a lasting tribute to both composer and poet. Programme notes of 1943 say,

Brennan according to some is becoming a legend. He is with me. I cannot explain it. His poetry is the standard by which I gauge all other and whilst I agree with some of his critics regarding some of his faults, I shall still have his work pedestalled mentally. His life has been blackened or whitewashed by many more competent to pass on an opinion. In fact I am grateful that as I never met Brennan I am able to keep clear of all controversy. But I am not happy to read books written specifically to contradict another's statement that Brennan's work is great and will in company with Shakespeare and similar masters, live for ever. It savours a little of what is known in musical circles as "professional jealousy". There is no need for it. There is plenty of room for all art, creative especially. Next to having a success for myself, I enjoy the success of other composers, if only for the reason that success for all must include success for the individual. Again I am yet to be convinced that Brennan needs or ever will need any apologists.

Permission to set Brennan's poetry was a hardly won privilege, and I am glad that it was so. Just as I am glad that musicians have been frightened to try and so, left this field of beautiful poems free for me to come and gain the exclusive right.

I would like at this point to bring more into the picture my wife, who has always been the inspiration behind my writing and who has dared the most terrible trials to further the cause of my songs, singing them in the most outlandish places and under trying conditions that would appal 99% of singers. Sometimes after an illness when she should have been convalescing and even as this afternoon, while recovering from a heavy cold in the head.

In another set of notes he said,

of Christopher Brennan, I will say little, as I did not know or have the good fortune to meet him, but I will protest about his name and work being allowed to remain in the semi-obscurity that it is. His poems alone declare him to have been a great man. A man who saw deeply into life, suffered, and at times was happy and withal had the ability to put his thoughts and emotions into poetry.

Kenneth Mackenzie, in the Music and Drama section of The Sydney Morning Herald June 22, 1946, wrote of the Brennan Songs prior to a recital to be given by Janet Keats and Gordon Watson later that month:

The most notable and most controversial outcome of [Horace Keats'] last twelve years of hard labour has been, of course, his settings of the poems of Christopher Brennan, whom he never met but whose work chimed perfectly with his own peculiar temperament. Brennan was one of the many Australian poets, great and small, whom he seized upon with a generous delight to make his songs.

Completing an article that Keats had begun for the Australian Blue Book for 1946, Mackenzie spoke once more of the Brennan Songs:

Late in his too-short life he discovered for himself the works of the Australian poet Christopher Brennan. It is a curious irony that Keats naturally a cheery man with a broad sense of humour and a vigorous love of life, should have chosen as his favourite poet that poet of gloom and despair, that singer of beauty and death, that advocate of self denial, of the denial of worldly happiness and fleshly well being.

Yet it is by his settings of the Brennan poems that Keats will best be remembered. He had not completed his intention in this regard when he died suddenly.

HRF wrote a critique (unmarked clipping) of that 1946 recital and his comment on the Brennan Songs was:

[Keats'] quiet unassuming quality, however, should not conceal the fact that he has written remarkable music. There is most eloquent evidence in The Point of Noon and I Am Shut Out of Mine Own Heart.

Edgar Bainton, in a letter to Sir Francis Anderson December, 1939, was to say of the Brennan Songs:

They really are very artistically done. He has managed to keep the verbal rhythms of the poems quite accurately without destroying the freedom of the musical contents, and I was quite impressed with their originality and beauty, and intend to have them performed in one of our Chamber Concerts next year.

So much has been written about the great scholar and poet, Christopher Brennan, that little need be offered here. The following note in The Sydney Morning Herald 22 July, 1937 about a public lecture to the Australian English Society given by H. M. Green, then University librarian, will give some insight:

Christopher Brennan, Australian poet, who was born in Sydney in 1870 and died in 1932, was described as the greatest classical scholar Australia has ever produced.

Brennan never realised himself, and that was his essential tragedy. He did manage, however to put some of the best of himself into his poetry. Poetry became for Brennan an emotional refuge, and a means of emotional expression that neither philosophy nor scholarship could have provided. Everything he wrote was the work not only of a scholar, but also of a thinker.

The note described Brennan's appearance:

a huge, unwieldy figure with a long black wave of hair brushed back from a large shining forehead, the fleshy beak of a nose, and enormous pipe, a soft black hat and a great flapping black mantle ... An unforgettable figure stalking down George Street of a late afternoon, either alone and submerged in a profound abstraction, or if with a friend then perhaps declaiming in a magnificent baritone, passages of Aeschylus or Swinburne, amid the amazed populace and snorting cab horses. A rarity of a man and yet for all his Continental culture and sympathies he was in soul an Australian.

Much to the delight of Russell and his mother, a number of other Brennan settings followed The Point of Noon. On September 8, 1936 came Drowsy Chime, written for two voices. It was rejected both by The Oxford University Press in 1937 and by Cramer in 1938. Wirripang published it in 1994. Then, two weeks later, he wrote We Sat Entwined for voice and piano. It was performed by the composer and his wife on the sixth anniversary of Brennan's death. Neville Cardus described it as more closely related to Bantock's easy-going lushness in the piano part. The performance time is 5.15 minutes and Wirripang published it in 1994.

Another admirer of these songs was Russell's friend, Gordon Watson. They had met in 1936 at the Conservatorium. Russell composed a Chinese Sonata for piano, flute and cello and dedicated the work to ‘my dear friend Gordon Watson'. Gordon was to remain a family friend for many years and was generally the first non-family member to hear Keats' songs as they were composed. It was through his influence that the Brennan Songs were recorded by the ABC many decades later in the 1970's with the well-known singer, Lauris Elms, and Gordon at the piano.

This led to Lauris Elms contacting me in 1995 on the hundredth anniversary of my father's birth and the fiftieth of his death, and giving much-needed support to my belief that it is

astonishing that this most published composer of his day had became, in almost no time at all, quite forgotten. On one memorable Sunday morning at her home, it was suggested that an introduction to David Miller, a noted Australian pianist and then Lecturer in Accompaniment at the Sydney Conservatorium of Music, be made. (Through David's efforts, it is hoped the Keats songs will once again be broadcast.)

There were two more compositions in October. On the fifth, he wrote White Wind for voice and piano. In a set of programme notes written in 1943, he said:

White Wind, as cold a description of wind and its effect on man's heart as it is possible to hear.

The performance time is 1.15 minutes. On the twenty-first, Peace Dwells in Blessing, for voice and piano, was written - and was rejected by The Oxford University Press in 1937. It has a performance time of 2.30 minutes. Both these October songs were also performed on the sixth anniversary of Brennan's death and both were published by Wirripang in 1994.

Other poems were a source of inspiration. On December 28, 1936, came Goneril's Lullaby for voice and piano from the play, King Lear's Wife by Gordon Bottomley. When Cramers released it in 1938, they described it as melodious, rhythmical and gently soothing. It has also been arranged for two flutes, two oboes, two clarinets, bassoon, horn, voice and strings. In a set of program notes, Keats had this to say about Bottomley:

From the pen of Gordon Bottomley comes the poem Goneril's Lullaby. Dr Edgar Bainton, who is a close personal friend of Bottomley has told me that the author was an accomplished musician, (a pianist I think), and when stricken by an illness that confined him to a recumbentposition for many years turned his attention to writing. Among his works are the verse play The Crier by Night which Dr. Bainton has used as the libretto for his one act opera and ‘King Lear's Wife' another verse play from which comes the charming lullaby I have set to music.

Barbara Russell has spoken of Bainton's introduction to Goneril's Lullaby. On one occasion, he was being shown some Keats manuscripts and he came across this work, played it through in front of a number of people and said, "I had chosen this to be my next song, but this setting is so beautiful I wouldn't dream of doing so". With a performance time is 1.35 minutes this song was assigned to Cramers for publication in October, 1937, which was the year of the Coronation of Their Majesties King George VI and Queen Mary.

In Australia, a collaboration of Keats and Paul Furniss (the ex-London playwright who first worked with my father on Atsomari) produced an operetta, Royalist Buns based on the fleeing of Charles I from Cromwell's soldiers. The Australian copyright for this work was purchased for twenty-five pounds by the ABC on 15 July. The BBC rejected the work as being unsuitable for their purposes.

If the BBC rejected Royalist Buns, England did not reject members of the Dominions coming to assist with the Coronation. One was a young New Zealander who had been befriended by Horace Keats and his wife while she was in Sydney. Christina Young wrote to them about her experiences as a chorister for that event, and so provides a chronicle from a performer's perspective.

The choir was one of THE occasions in a lifetime. The Australian representatives included Ruth Naylor, Muriel Clark, Norman Menzies, Alan Goad and an awfully nice girl from Melbourne Etta Bernard. We had several rehearsals. Two were held in St Margarets, two in the Abbey and we had five or six private ones, i.e. Dominion Delegates, with Sir Walford Davies. Apart from the fact that Sir Walford fondly imagines we are still in the primary, he is a dear and was awfully good to us. You will know what the music was like, as I expect you listened in. In addition to the broadcast there was quite a bit that was not broadcasted. Believe me we had plenty to learn and really got quite a lot of benefit from the private rehearsals with Sir Woof Woof.

The only women in the Choir were the Dominion Delegates, numbering 22 in all, so you can imagine how we preened ourselves. Many of England's leading male singers were in the Choir, including Norman Allan, Walter Widdup (who sat immediately behind me and kept me well amused), Old Ben Davies, who told me it was his third Coronation Choir, Harold Williams, Joseph Farrington, Topliss Green and a host of others.

The first rehearsal; in the Abbey was awfully thrilling [and] gave us an opportunity of viewing its party dress, the final rehearsal called by the Earl Marshall was terribly exciting. We saw everyone rehearsing their parts and found the places we could memorise so that we should not miss anything. Our seats were above and to the back of the choir seats proper and we, on the Cantoris side, had the pleasure of viewing the Foreign Royalty and Delegates from 8.45 until 2.30. We were very glad they were seated on the Decani side for we looked right down on them.

We arrived at the Abbey at 7.45 and were ready to go in at 8.30. We girls wore white evening frocks and short wraps (I wore my short rabbit-cum-ermine coat) and net or lace veils, the head part being arranged like unto a bride's but the veil part fell just below our shoulder blades. The men in the Choir said we looked like a lot of so and so brides.

Prior to arriving at the Abbey we experienced childish glee in showing our passes signed by Norfolk, which let us go through barriers and what nots.

We walked through the cloisters, like unto the animals in the ark, and were checked by our numbers prior to entering the Abbey. The boys went first, then we came next and the men were last. We walked two by two until we came in front of the altar and then bowed and from there followed on in single file. By this time, all the peers and peeresses were seated so we were fortunate in being able to come in late. In fact most of the crowd were in by the time we got there. I cut the order of procession out of "The Times" and we were able to see which processions were arriving next. As I said before the Foreign Royalty etc. came in at 8.55 and, from "The Times" we knew who was who. In the back row were seated the Chichibus (? the spelling) from Japan, then the Earl of Flanders, Princess Juliana and her husband, the Royal Princes and Princesses of Denmark, Sweden, Yugoslavia, Prince Michael of Romania, The Crown Prince and Princess of Norway and the rest of our coloured brethren. In the second row were sixteen Indian Princes all dressed up in gorgeous satin and positively dripping with diamonds. I looked at said diamonds for a long time and thought could I but rob one body, I would be wealthy for life. The Aga Khan was immediately opposite where I was sitting and the Begum looked very charming.

Seeing all the peers and peeresses in their scarlet ermine trimmed robes reminded one of "The knave of hearts he stole those tarts". The Abbey was really beautiful, the rich blue and gold trimmings added to its mellow beauty rather than detracted from it, as I had imagined would be the case.

I think Queen Mary's procession was the next big one and she looked so beautiful that we all cried. The Queen also looked charming and of course the little Princesses were pets. When the King came in, we allgot ready to do a weep again (owing to the trumpet fanfares I suppose) but, when we saw his cap of state, well we were transfixed. Why must they have these peculiar hats?

From where I sat I could see the Thrones of Recognition, the Homage Thrones and the Royal Dukes. I could also by straining my neck see part of the Royal Box, but I did not see the crowning. Some of the crowd in the Choir saw the crowning and would have preferred to see all we saw, as actually the crowning of our King was a very small part of the ceremony.

When we saw our prospective Prime Ministers and High Commissioners we were duly impressed but one of the greatest thrills of the day was singing "God Save the King" to the King himself and feeling you were doing it on behalf of your own Dominion. I felt very honoured and seemed to be a map of N.Z. singing the National Anthem for all I was worth. He entered the choir just as we started the first verse and was directly below us until the last line of the second verse.

I could go on for ages about that Coronation but it would be impossible to adequately describe the Ceremony, it was stupendous.

The collaboration with Furniss continued and, on February 18, Over the Hill Came Love was completed. This is a radio operetta based on an Irish theme. The Australian copyright was purchased for fifteen pounds by the ABC in April. It was also sent to the BBC London for consideration and accepted for broadcast in England, then later over the Empire system and, finally, on the National wavelength. For this the composer was paid a total of twenty-nine pounds which was shared on a fifty-fifty basis with Furniss.

It was broadcast by the BBC in December, 1937, and was described by the Radio Times as an ingenious little story in an Irish setting, concerning an Irish singer who returns from America just in time to save his girl and her mother from the bailiffs. The Director of Empire Service from the BBC said in part, it is of course, very slight but it has a definite charm and the music is in the truly Irish idiom.

The disappointments of the English visit of 1930 must have been easing because there was much excitement from his parents at this broadcast. His father wrote saying that they were pleased to hear Love Came over the Hill [sic] and congratulated his son on the wonderful music. The Broadcasting Co. certainly gave the main part to a most brilliant singer, Dennis O'Neill, sure I think he comes from Ireland, they could not have given it to anyone else had they done so it would have been spoilt, we think the music plaintive and soft which appeals to us both, I must say your Mother was very much affected. Truly proud parents indeed. As well, the melodies from Over the Hill Came Love were also used in the Pageant of the Nations which was to follow in 1938. It was rejected for publication by Curwen Edition in 1938 who considered it interesting but, other than the occasional broadcast, they could not see a field for it.

In February, La Lune Bleu by Paul Furniss, a radio operetta, drew the following comment from the Managing Director of RKO Radio Pictures (Australasia) Limited:

I listened with interest to the radio play, La Lune Bleu put over 2FC on Wednesday night, and thought your music for same definitely pleasing. All the numbers were tuneful and, in particular, the music for the novelty number, The Cat Duet, I considered to be particularly meritorious. However, notwithstanding the excellent impression made upon me by your talents, it is impossible for me to hold out any hopes of your alliance with the RKO Studios in a musical capacity.

No doubt, as you say, there is room in Hollywood for writers of melody, but as far as RKO Studios in particular are concerned, there is no dearth of talent in our Hollywood studio. In addition to the services of such free-lance aces as George and Ira Gershwin and others of equal note, we recently signed as a permanent studio unit three of the best known personalities in the field of music -- Jerome Kern, Dorothy Fields and Herbert Fields. With this unit to cater for our requirements, I think it extremely unlikely that the studio would be interested in making any additions to the musical staff.

 La Lune Bleu was rejected by the BBC as unsuitable for their purposes in June, 1938, which was the year the family moved to Highroyd, No.1 Musgrave Street, Mosman, just above the ferry wharf and overlooking the harbour. Here, in comparative peace, composition could be undertaken in truly tranquil surroundings. The ferries in those days were driven by steam and so were quieter than their diesel offspring. There was a private swimming pool and a boatshed. Bliss for the entire family. There was only one blight and that was the fishing boats that would ‘chug chug' as they trawled during the night. The Keats were to remain there for many years and, although offered the whole building some time later, sadly they did not accept.

In May, There Aren't any Words by Grant McDonagh, a radio operetta, was completed. It was sent to the ABC where the Federal Controller of Productions wrote, I have now heard from Mr James, who suggests that as some of the numbers are very short...he thinks that thirty one guineas would be a fair price for the Australian Broadcasting Rights.

McDonagh, doubtless emboldened by this success, wrote to Keats,

Here are 4 numbers that need a little inspiration in the way of music. … I am exploring the commercial market with a view to roping you in a comfortable figure. It does not look terrifically profitable - but it may yield something.

After Kings X it is very placid out here at Rose Bay, and we have quite a comfortable house, but I do envy you your rustic surroundings. I hope you are enjoying it all as much as I think I could. Regards to Mrs Keats and the young daughter who wants to do things on horseback.

The letter was sent to Keats while the family was holidaying at Inverness, a property near Guyra which was used by them as a retreat.

Back in Sydney, by early May, Moonlit Apples was composed. Keats spoke of Drinkwater in a set of broadcast notes:

The exquisite delicacy of his poem Moonlit Apples is, I hope, portrayed in my setting which will be sung. The beauty of English apples laid in rows on floor and racks bathed in the moonlight of a summer night is well pictured in Drinkwater's poem. Drinkwater, in his early youth, was keenly interested in amateur theatrical performances and, during an interlude in a rehearsal of a play at a country house in England, chose a loft where apples were stored, and the moon shining in the window, to declare his love. Very many years afterwards, the memory of this romantic and far distant hour inspired this beautiful poem.

Oxford University Press rejected this song the following September. It has a performance time of 3.30 minutes and has been published by Wirripang.

On July 25, there was a concert of Brennan Songs performed at the Priory, Dominican Convent, Moss Vale. A lecture on Brennan was given by Carl Keppel. Drowsy Chime was performed by the Convent choir and Barbara Russell sang We Sat Entwined, White Wind and Peace Dwells in Blessing. I am Shut out of Mine Own Heart was recited. The occasion may well have inspired the setting of this poem just over a week later.

In broadcast notes for an Eventide Musical, the following comment was made:

The late Christopher J. Brennan was one of the truest poets Australia has ever produced. Brennan wrote only a few lyrics, and this is perhaps the best-known -

I am shut out of mine own heart
Because my love is far from me.

Here to end this recital, is the setting Horace Keats has given these poignant and beautiful verses - words and music blend to give us this striking song.

Of all the Brennan settings, this one was adopted by Barbara Russell as her very own. It was to be the last song that my mother and my father ever performed together.

In programme notes prepared in 1943 the composer said,

I am Shut out of Mine own Heart. What poignancy. Was Brennan awaiting the arrival of his bride from overseas?? Waiting with doubt in his heart I know not, but of all the poems of yearning and longing this is as fine as I have heard.

In 1940, Hugh McCrae wrote,

Janet bewitched me with her singing of I am Shut Out of my Mine own Heart. It still stays with me beyond everything else she did. And it's a fine song from all points of view ... the poet's, the composer's, the singer's, the listener's.

The song was rejected for publication by Augner Ltd, London in October, 1938, and by G. Schirmer Inc., New York in April, 1939. The performance time is 4.15 minutes and we published it in 1994.

Shortly after the song was completed, Keats had a different inspiration:

She Walks in Beauty was written one afternoon after an arduous day writing a big song [I am Shut Out of Mine Own Heart]. I felt the need of nourishment and went towards the kitchen in order to fulfil that need but didn't get there as I picked up a book of poems and opened it at She Walks in Beauty and within half an hour the song was written.

Although rejected by Cramer in the following November, it proved to be one of the most popular songs he had ever written. Eventually, a contract for publication was signed with Chappell & Co. Ltd, Sydney on October 23, 1939, and the song was printed in November. The song was recorded by Harold Williams, accompanied by my father, by Columbia Records in their Sydney Studios on 21 April, 1942. It was also recorded in 1947 and 1956 in both Australia and New Zealand, and by the London College Choir in 1969. The composer was known to lament, ‘I will live and die by She Walks in Beauty.' Where appropriate, it was also used as a signature tune and played by the composer at the end of broadcasts.

In October, Keats began to write the music for a film, Lovers and Luggers. This project continued into January of the following year. He assigned the whole copyright of this music for an undisclosed sum to Cinesound Productions in December. At the end of February, 1938, Lovers and Luggers, produced by Ken Hall, was reviewed by The Sydney Morning Herald who hailed it as demonstrating that Australia had arrived as a film-producing country. This was considered to be a picture which would bear comparison with the best of its kind from overseas. The film was screened in England during 1940 and the composer was paid sound (music) film fees amounting to one pound eighteen shillings and fourpence. Royalties are being received by the composer's son to this day, 1997.

There was an interesting comment passed by Keats' father in a letter written in July of 1939: "Sorry to hear the refugees are doing you out of your picture writing". The influx of Europeans fleeing the Nazi regime made a distinct impression on Australian music. They brought with them a well-entrenched culture that supported their composers almost exclusively, unlike Australia, where the tendency had been to ignore them. Most Australians were forced to go abroad to develop their talents and make their names, as Keats himself had pointed out in a section of the Australian Blue Book published just after his death.

In September, Dorothy Helmrich wrote to him from overseas and commented on the rejection of a number of manuscripts in London.

Life is difficult for all people these days and the English Composers are having the same struggle to be heard - it is the age of mediocrity and therefore "ideals" are at a discount - but we must still hold on I think and keep the real thing on top.

By November 23, Four Songs by Horace Keats From John's Scrap Book was completed. The verse was written for his son John by H.M.H. Watts who enjoyed the nickname ‘Watto'.

Watts, who was an early-morning ABC sessioner, (broadcaster) died prematurely, prompting the following letter from Ernest Lashmar of Chappell & Co. Ltd, Sydney.

Dear Horace,

With reference to your call yesterday re the album of four songs by Watto set to music by yourself. You stated that Mrs Watts and yourself were anxious to get this work published as your own property, and I offered, in view of the unusual circumstances, to have one thousand copies printed and published for you at printers cost price.

The songs were printed and appeared in 1938. It appears that the bulk were sold. The titles, Johnny-Boy, The Royal Mail, Dreamland and Farmyard Chat indicate that the market for them was for younger school children.

The songs were performed on air in January by Clement Williams and drew the following letter from Michael Erskine Wyse of the ABC Melbourne:

As I sat attending to the late news tonight I heard your setting to Watto's verses, and their singing by Clement Williams. It is no exaggeration to say I was enraptured. As one of Watto's closest friends I feel entitled to say that you both captured Watto's spirit in an almost uncanny way. All those listening who knew Watto, either personally or over the air, must have felt grateful for the musical memorial you have made for one they loved.

The regret that Watto was not present to hear his lyrics live and breathe is consoled by the knowledge that you have given Watto to children for always, for I am positive I make no idle prediction in saying that the Keats setting of the Watto verses will be sung wherever children are.

Watto, the man's man who had a generous corner in his heart for the young, patience with their manifold curiosity, inquiring and understanding of their quaint fantasies, could have asked nothing better than to keep a place in the hearts of those who own that passionate vigour and gaiety which is youth. By your songs you have given him such a place.

A J. A. Barrett of Adelaide also wrote to Keats and, after praising Clement Williams,

I am duty bound to write you a few lines in order to ask that you accept my sincere share of the sentiments I have expressed to him in regard to the delightful way you have set the lyrics to music.

I sing myself and nothing but the best pleases me. I have therefore taken the liberty of asking Mr Williams for advice in regard to any possibility that may exist to enable me to procure them and add them tomy song collection.

This request is because the broadcast was made using manuscripts. They were published shortly after. Mary MacCormack, for The Sunday Sun and Guardian Magazine, commented in February, 1938:

The thousands of listeners who had such a great admiration for the cheery personality and keen wit of the late H.M.H. Watts, better known as Watto whose early morning sessions brightened the day of so many, will be particularly interested in the publication of four of the poems from his series entitled John's Scrap Book. These have been set very attractively to music by Horace Keats and published by Chappell & Co.

Johnny Boy, with which the collection commences, is a serious little song of advice from father to son, concluding with words that were obviously Watto's own philosophy of life. ‘Test the steel of friendship, and, if you are wise, have a span of laughter not a bridge of sighs.' The music, simple and slow, reflects the thoughtful sentiment of the poem.

The Royal Mail, is an imaginary tale of the old bushranging days with suitable musical effects and the jog-trotting of the coach horses, with a sudden quickening of tempo as Ned Kelly springs from hiding to hold up the mail with shouts and terrifying threats. An abrupt return to the present as the mail car comes in sight and puts all thoughts of bushrangers out of mind.

Dreamland, commences with the striking of 6 o'clock, the little ones' bedtime. A gently rocking rhythm throughout the song suggests the atmosphere of a lullaby, while the sweet dream visions that will fill the coming night are quietly recounted.

Finally, Farmyard Chat, relates the pride with which each animal family claims its superior status. The whimsicalities of the poem are matched by the cleverly imitative touches of the accompaniment.

All these songs were taken to America by the singer Lawrence Tibbett.

An orchestral arrangement was made for Johnny Boy for flute, oboe, two clarinets, bassoon, two horns, two trumpets, trombone, drums, strings and piano (ad Lib) was purchased by the ABC for their Federal Library for three and a half guineas.

For a time, the ‘Watto theme' was pursued and a number of songs produced, probably including The Heavenly Burrow, which was rejected for publication by Cramers of London and is yet to be published. Certainly, on November 23, Soldiers was completed. It was originally a song with piano accompaniment. Cramers made the comment: the reason we are not accepting Soldiers is because we find it is so difficult to get singers to sing the words of this description. The fact remains, however, that you have a lovely tune and if you could develop this into A Patrol to be played by small orchestra, we think it would be possible to do something with it. So, during 1938, the song was re-arranged for flute, two clarinets, two trumpets, trombone, drums, guitar and strings and voice. The performance time is 2.0 minutes and it, too, is as yet unpublished. At the time, Allan & Co rejected it along with Indian Braves and The Heavenly Burrow: While ingenious, we are of the opinion that they would have no commercial value for us. The songs are very unorthodox, and they are not only too difficult for young singers, but they are not the type likely to interest the medium or advanced singer.

It is possible that Soldiers on Parade, written for orchestra, was also composed at the same time. The manuscript is undated and there are parts for piano, strings, flute, oboe, clarinet, trumpets, trombone and drums. This, too, was rejected for publication by Cramer in December, 1938.

 In January, 1938, Keats received a letter from The Australian Composers League. The President of this organisation was Cyril Monk and the Committee consisted of Varney Monk, Rex Shaw and Clarence Elkin. Its stated aim was to further the interests of local composers by giving publicity to their works by means of broadcasting, public performance and publication. In spite of my father's friendship with these people, there is no evidence of his joining this League.

Earlier, in November, 1937, Keats had been contacted by the Honorary Secretary of The Pageant of Nations Executive Committee about the arrangement of music and the engagement of a conductor for an orchestra. There was to be a celebration of 150th Anniversary of Australia's Foundation (1788) which was to occur in the third week of February the following year. Keats was offered the position: however, his proposed fee of one hundred pounds was considered too high. The Committee explained that, to produce the Pageant in the Town Hall, they needed to provide a number of items including a complete stage setting, curtains, and electrical equipment currently unavailable there. Keats reduced his fee and was appointed Musical Director for the Pageant towards the end of December.

On January 14, 1938, he was advised by Basil Kirke of the ABC that the General Manager had given his approval for Keats to work for the Pageant of Nations which was not only to mark the birthday of the Nation but was the contribution of the Government of NSW to extend felicitations to the nations of the world through the only universal language - music. The British Empire was represented by musical performances representing England with hunting songs and orchestral works; India, with a special arrangement of the Song of India, and an arrangement by Keats of An Indian Market Scene by permission of Boosey and Hawkes. Canada was represented by music from Rose Marie and The Song of the Mounties. Ireland was to use Over the Hill Came Love as well as Mother Machree (Keats). South Africa also used a work composed by Keats called Beautiful Diamonds and Girls. This song, sung by the Hurlstone Park Choral Society, was written in two hours. The overall effect for South Africa was enhanced by a jungle chant and scenes from diamond mines culminating in the finale with a beautiful blonde, dressed in black and wearing a diamond head-dress appearing on the stage before a black velvet cloth heavily studded with brilliants. According to The Sun of February 9, Mr Horace Keats, a composer of fine talent, has written a special song for this ‘Queen of Diamonds' who will be attended by two Negro pages. Wales, Scotland and New Zealand were portrayed by a choir, pipe band and Maori dancers respectively. The first section of the Pageant was rounded off by a rousing rendition by orchestra and Welsh Choir of Land of Hope and Glory.

An International Section followed. America's theme was Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue, originally to be played on five grand pianos by girls dressed in period costume wearing white wigs. The end of the American theme was heralded by Sousa's Stars and Stripes. The Chinese segment was to be spectacular. According to The Sun: The Chinese scene will be particularly attractive, the effects including a big dragon and a full Chinese orchestra. Its personnel will first be seen through a magnificent dragon cloth, after which the dragon itself will be paraded by dancers almost completely covered in its shimmering folds. France featured acrobatic Legionnaires, Germany performed a "Stein" song and a slapping dance similar to that in White Horse Inn. Italy and Russia were also represented, the latter with the chant of the Volga Boatman and Cossacks performing a whirlwind dance.

The entire production was described to the Secretary of the Pageant of Nations Committee by Frank A. Chaffey of the Chief Secretary's Department: I say candidly that it is the best show of this nature that I have ever witnessed and it has left a lasting impression on the minds of all I know who have seen it. These include outstanding showmen who have seen functions in many parts of the world.

In May, Keats was informed by Allan & Co that the AMEB would be looking for material for piano pieces for grades 2 to 6: We would not like you to go to any particular trouble because it is just a matter of chance as to what may prove to have the right characteristics, length and grade. However, if you have MSS. about, we think it just as well to send them along if you are interested.

The composer responded by writing the following for piano solo: Quiet, Little Ann Sleeps, By the Lily Pond, Summer Breeze, Sunday Morning, Early in Autumn and Field Mice. In October, 1938, the A.M.E.B sent the manuscripts to Allan & Co. stating that the editors did not wish to use any of them. Early in Autumn was rejected for publication by Cramer in December, 1938. When the manuscripts were submitted to Boosey & Hawkes, they dismissed them with, although our examiners think them melodious we do not think they are likely to be popular enough to justify the cost of production.

When Janet Keats placed them before Chappell in 1970 they returned them along with their examiners report:

Piano Pieces by Horace Keats

In the above a lack of modernity is easily detected and apart from Sunday Morning and Field Mice they have little or no educational value. Even the latter are dated in style and do not have an essential sense of true inspiration. Indeed ‘manufactured' could well describe them.

As pieces for piano they have an ordinary melodic and harmonic content and are deficient of any challenging technicalities. A Summer Breeze is perhaps worthy of some consideration because of signs of originality in the approach.

Overall I cannot visualise any piece generating an interest that could result in a reasonable demand and therefore do not recommend them for serious consideration.

Although they remain unpublished, I find these comments interesting: publishers had stated in their earlier rejections that the complexity of the music was the problem; thirty years later, the lack of "challenging technicalities" becomes the reason.

In June, The Broken Melody was released and reviewed by The Daily Telegraph:

Cinesound and producer Ken G Hall have done a really fine piece of work in The Broken Melody. This strongly knit and smoothly produced drama is international screen from start to finish.

Beautifully mounted with a fine feeling for atmosphere, The Broken Melody blends music, operatic and incidental, with its skilfully-paced story.

Composer Alfred Hill wrote a whole operatic sequence, haunting, for the film. Horace Keats handled the impressionistic and modern incidental melodic theme. Mr. Hill's work is too well known to need additional congratulations at this stage: praise goes to him and to Horace Keats as well.

Barbara Russell was advised by the ABC in June to prepare a fifteen minute programme of her husband's songs. This was done and a broadcast from 2FC was made on August 20, 1938. The songs were Galleons, She Walks in Beauty, The Orange Tree, The Little Birdling in the Tree, Plucking the Rushes and Goneril's Lullaby. This was one of a number of broadcasts that she was to give in the course of that year.

Paul Furniss left Australia in May, so ending a successful collaboration. Keats made the decision to concentrate on song writing and so disseminate Australian poetry to a wider audience through his compositions. One of his notable songs was his setting of Shaw Neilson's The Orange Tree. This was set either in July or August. Performance time for this song is 5.30 to 5.55 minutes. Rejected by Cramer in October, 1939, the song was published by Publications by Wirripang, in 1994.

In an unmarked newspaper clipping, Shaw Neilson is spoken of :

The late Professor Brereton, after meeting Neilson , remarked, privately, ‘it seems incredible that such a hard hand should have written such delicate poetry.'

Neilson had no easy life, and he was 42 before he achieved anything like recognition of his verse. Born in the bush, he earned his living by manual labour and, even as late as 1928, it was said that no other job could be found for him in Melbourne than that of a lift driver in a Government building.

He was, however, fortunate in getting a poet for his father and if, in the conditions of farm life, he received little formal education, it may be claimed that for him this was an advantage, since nature and his own intuition became his teachers.

 Of late years, his necessities were relieved by the award of a pension from the Commonwealth Literary fund, which has surely never better justified its benevolent existence.

Sponsored by A.G. Stephens, who was the first to acclaim his unique gifts, Neilson's earliest and best collection of poems, ‘Heart of Spring' appeared in 1919. It was followed by ‘Ballad and Lyrical Poems' 1923, ‘New Poems' 1927, ‘Collected Poems' 1934 and ‘Beauty Imposes' 1938 One of his last poems was given a place in the anthology ‘Australian Poetry 1941.'

Who can say in a word all that Shaw Neilson's poetry has meant to him and means to Australia and to literature? It may be enough to repeat that a few of his lyrics , ‘Song Be Delicate', ‘May', ‘Love's Coming', ‘The Orange Tree' and others are so lovely as to be imperishable.

He was a mystic, for whom words existed less to convey ideas than perceptions from the hither side of and from beyond the border -

Listen! the young girl said
There calls
No voice, no music beats on me;
But it is almost sound: it falls
this evening on the Orange Tree

‘Almost sound', and Shaw Neilson himself sometimes heard it, as well as the whispering rosebuds and the faint breathing of lilies.

To him, too, the "coat" of the violet was "the colour of death" - and who knows but he might be right?

McCrae was also moved to write of Neilson and his letter appears on the following pages.

In between setting Australian poetry, both Keats and Barbara Russell broadcast and performed at recitals and music clubs. An Accompanists Roster prepared at this time will indicate how their hours were punctuated with periods of inactivity. This dogs the life of musicians, in particular singers and accompanists. The writer recalls commenting naively to his mother that their life seemed so exotic. Looking at me in surprise, she replied, "All we were trying to do was to make a living and it was demanding and very hard". Keats once said,

many people are envious of creative ability and say so to me. They don't stop to think that they have been given a talent that a composer might envy. Take for instance a man good with figures. I'd love to be able just to arrive at the same bank balance that the bank does on my account. Believe me it would save a lot of worry. I have seen many a beauty spot for which I would have forgotten my composing had I been able to reproduce that scene in paint. Look at a scientist creating a cure or preventative for some scourge that has cursed the world for years.

And so we see that musical creative ability or talent is not the only gift or even the most important or outstanding one that has been sent to make our lives more bearable or useful.

Christopher Brennan's How Old is My Heart was completed on November 9. The song has performance time of 3.30 minutes and was published by us in 1994.

From 1933 to 1938, Keats composed at least eighty-four identifiable works. There must be others, doubtless lent or given away. There are a number of undated manuscripts of incidental music, an area in which he had a great facility. These have not been included in this work. Keats once commented,

Personally I find that with two hours work a day, except Sundays, so far I could supply all that my publishers will take. Admittedly they will take not more than one hundredth part of the music that I write, but that is because, probably I write a great deal of music that is above their heads or they consider to be above the heads of the public and so you hear most of my music in manuscript.

Of the eighty odd works, at least thirty were submitted and rejected for publication during his lifetime and seven were accepted, mainly by British publishers. A further sixteen were published in 1994 and 1995, the 100th anniversary of his birth and the 50th anniversary of his death, by the publishing company of the writer, Publications by Wirripang.

By now Janet was pregnant with their third child. When word of this pregnancy circulated, one professor from the Sydney Conservatorium was heard to exclaim, "Oh, no! Not another Keats". His memories of Barbara and Russell as students were obviously still vivid. He was to be spared however, because the parents of this child were determined that music was not to be his career. Russell was equally determined that "this child was not to have the struggle to survive that my parents did" and, as a practical gesture, took out an insurance policy to ensure a secure start for "the little fellow". How could any of them know that that policy would enable the first family home to be purchased, at a tragic price.

Stay, and stay forever sunny time!
Put chains upon the dial's flying shade
So never storm or pelting flood or rime
disglorify this summer we have made.

The Trespass
Hugh McCrae

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