AT THE opening of the New Year I received from Cocteau the first part of his final version of Œdipus in the Latin translation of Jean Daniélou. I had been impatiently awaiting it for months, as I was eager to start work. All my expectations from Cocteau were fully justified. I could not have wished for a more perfect text, or one that better suited my requirements.
The knowledge of Latin, which I had acquired at school, but neglected, alas! for many years, began to revive as I plunged into the libretto, and, with the help of the French version, I rapidly familiarized myself with it. As I had fully anticipated, the events and characters of the great tragedy came to life wonderfully in this language, and, thanks to it, assumed a statuesque plasticity and a stately bearing entirely in keeping with the majesty of the ancient legend.