PREFACE 
 
 
HIS comedy is perhaps my first serious attempt 
at a work of art ;  previous lucubrations of mine 
having been works either of necessity or of piety :  that 
is, or I felt obliged to tell the truth about something, 
or I was definitely inspired. 
But the Angel of Venice (I protest) is a very cunning 
concoction.  I had been revolving certain exposition 
by M. Henri Davray of Verlaine’s skill in treating the 
Alexandrine ;  and I couldn’t let it stay there !  Hence 
the form.  I had also been meditating on Maeter-
linck’s method of obtaining atmosphere ;  but this went 
all awry. 
With regard to the matter of my proposed master-
piece, my mind was perfectly clear. 
It must look like a Monticelli ;  it must smell like 
Musc ambré ;  it must feel like July and August of 1911 
in Paris ;  and above all it must taste like the Truffles 
au Champagne of the Café Riche.  How it sounded 
didn’t matter so much. 
Well, there were difficulties.  One cannot taste Truffles
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