Saint-Ex: “Voici mon secret.”

Today is the birthday of Antoine de Saint-Exupery.

Saint-Ex had a brief intersection with the Lindberghs. Anne Lindbergh wrote the whole thing up feverishly in her journal. She spent 24 hours with the man, and she fell in love with him. It was an emotional thing, I think … it’s hard to tell … there was no affair, nothing like that. But even though they could barely communicate, she felt seen by him in a way she had never felt before. She felt understood. (Being “understood” is probably the most common cause for infidelity – actual or emotional. It’s not about the sex. Not really. How many people say, “She really listened to me …” or “I felt like I could just talk to him …” when they talk about cheating on their partner.) I’m not sure if Lindbergh realized how lonely his wife was at this point. Who knows. It’s all speculation. Lindbergh and Saint-Ex could bond about mechanics and flying – but it was in the realm of art that Anne bonded with the Frenchman. He had written a foreward to one of her books, and it mortified her: how much he had picked up on, how much he had seen … She hadn’t realized how much her books about her trips with her husband revealed about her innermost soul. But Saint-Ex saw, and she loved him for that. She met him, briefly, and he disappeared shortly thereafter. It left her despondent. Her kindred spirit, her soulmate – even if she could never have him – was now gone forever.

Her journal entries about her time with Saint-Ex are FASCINATING and I will post them all here. (Well, actually, I already have – I will just link to the entries). But they’re marvelous. They show marvelous insight into who Saint-Ex was, through the eyes of a woman who revered him, was a little in awe of him.

August 4 1939

August 5 1939

August 5 1939, continued

August 5 1939, continued

I have read all of his books on flying, and they are incredible. True high water marks in the genre of aviation writing.

But just for fun, I will post what is probably the most famous chapter of The Little Prince – the chapter where the prince meets the fox. I’ll post it in English – but then I also MUST post it in French, because I first read it in French, and sorry – but the translation just is not as beautiful. It is meant to be heard in French, the language is more perfect – it is just as it should be.

Here is Chapter 21:

It was then that the fox appeared.
“Good morning,” said the fox.
“Good morning,” the little prince responded politely, although when he turned around he saw nothing.
“I am right here,” the voice said, “under the apple tree.”
“Who are you?” asked the little prince, and added, “You are very pretty to look at.”
“I am a fox,” said the fox.
“Come and play with me,” proposed the little prince. “I am so unhappy.”
“I cannot play with you,” the fox said. “I am not tamed.”
“Ah! Please excuse me,” said the little prince.
But, after some thought, he added:
“What does that mean– ‘tame’?”
“You do not live here,” said the fox. “What is it that you are looking for?”
“I am looking for men,” said the little prince. “What does that mean– ‘tame’?”
“Men,” said the fox. “They have guns, and they hunt. It is very disturbing. They also raise chickens. These are their only interests. Are you looking for chickens?”
“No,” said the little prince. “I am looking for friends. What does that mean– ‘tame’?”
“It is an act too often neglected,” said the fox. It means to establish ties.”
“‘To establish ties’?”
“Just that,” said the fox. “To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world…”
“I am beginning to understand,” said the little prince. “There is a flower… I think that she has tamed me…”
“It is possible,” said the fox. “On the Earth one sees all sorts of things.”
“Oh, but this is not on the Earth!” said the little prince.
The fox seemed perplexed, and very curious.
“On another planet?”
“Yes.”
“Are there hunters on this planet?”
“No.”
“Ah, that is interesting! Are there chickens?”
“No.”
“Nothing is perfect,” sighed the fox.
But he came back to his idea.
“My life is very monotonous,” the fox said. “I hunt chickens; men hunt me. All the chickens are just alike, and all the men are just alike. And, in consequence, I am a little bored. But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life . I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow. And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the colour of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat…”
The fox gazed at the little prince, for a long time.
“Please– tame me!” he said.
“I want to, very much,” the little prince replied. “But I have not much time. I have friends to discover, and a great many things to understand.”
“One only understands the things that one tames,” said the fox. “Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more. If you want a friend, tame me…”
“What must I do, to tame you?” asked the little prince.
“You must be very patient,” replied the fox. “First you will sit down at a little distance from me– like that– in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit a little closer to me, every day…”
The next day the little prince came back.
“It would have been better to come back at the same hour,” said the fox. “If, for example, you come at four o’clock in the afternoon, then at three o’clock I shall begin to be happy. I shall feel happier and happier as the hour advances. At four o’clock, I shall already be worrying and jumping about. I shall show you how happy I am! But if you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour my heart is to be ready to greet you… One must observe the proper rites…”
“What is a rite?” asked the little prince.
“Those also are actions too often neglected,” said the fox. “They are what make one day different from other days, one hour from other hours. There is a rite, for example, among my hunters. Every Thursday they dance with the village girls. So Thursday is a wonderful day for me! I can take a walk as far as the vineyards. But if the hunters danced at just any time, every day would be like every other day, and I should never have any vacation at all.”
So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near–
“Ah,” said the fox, “I shall cry.”
“It is your own fault,” said the little prince. “I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you…”
“Yes, that is so,” said the fox.
“But now you are going to cry!” said the little prince.
“Yes, that is so,” said the fox.
“Then it has done you no good at all!”
“It has done me good,” said the fox, “because of the color of the wheat fields.” And then he added:
“Go and look again at the roses. You will understand now that yours is unique in all the world. Then come back to say goodbye to me, and I will make you a present of a secret.”
The little prince went away, to look again at the roses.
“You are not at all like my rose,” he said. “As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one. You are like my fox when I first knew him. He was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But I have made him my friend, and now he is unique in all the world.”
And the roses were very much embarrassed.
“You are beautiful, but you are empty,” he went on. “One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you– the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose.
And he went back to meet the fox.
“Goodbye,” he said.
“Goodbye,” said the fox. “And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”
“What is essential is invisible to the eye,” the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.
“It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.”
“It is the time I have wasted for my rose–” said the little prince, so that he would be sure to remember.
“Men have forgotten this truth,” said the fox. “But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose…”
“I am responsible for my rose,” the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.

Note from me before we move on to the French: This section pretty much rocked my world when I read it in high school. It changed how I thought about a lot of things: about love, and friendship, and what it means to be loyal.

“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.” Probably the most famous line from the book, and rightly so. But – to be a broken record – it sounds better in French.

Okay, so here comes the French!


Chapter XXI

C’est alors qu’apparut le renard.
-Bonjour, dit le renard.
-Bonjour, r�pondit poliment le petit prince, qui se tourna mais ne vit rien.
-Je suis l�, dit la voix, sous le pommier.
-Qui es-tu? dit le petit prince. Tu es bien joli�
-Je suis un renard, dit le renard.
-Viens jouer avec moi, lui proposa le petit prince. Je suis tellement triste�
-Je ne puis pas jouer avec toi, dit le renard. Je ne suis pas apprivois�
-Ah! Pardon, fit le petit prince.
Mais apr�s r�flexion, il ajouta :
-Qu’est-ce que signifie “apprivoiser”?
-Tu n’es pas d’ici, dit le renard, que cherches-tu?
-Je cherche les hommes, dit le petit prince.Qu’est-ce que signifie “apprivoiser”?
-Les hommes, dit le renard, ils ont des fusils et ils chassent. C’est bien g�nant! Il �l�vent aussi des poules. C’est leur seul int�r�t. Tu cherches des poules?
-Non, dit le petit prince. Je cherche des amis.Qu’est-ce que signifie “apprivoiser”?
-C’est une chose trop oubli�e, dit le renard. Ca signifie “Cr�er des liens�”
-Cr�er des liens?
-Bien s�r,dit le renard. Tu n’es encore pour moi qu’un petit gar�on tout semblable � cent mille petits gar�ons. Et je n’ai pas besoin de toi. Et tu n’a pas besoin de moi non plus. Je ne suis pour toi qu’un renard semblable � cent mille renards. Mais, si tu m’apprivoises, nous aurons besoin l’un de l’autre. Tu seras pour moi unique au monde. Je serai pour toi unique au monde�
-Je commence � comprendre, dit le petit prince. Il y a une fleur� je crois qu’elle m’a apprivois�
-C’est possible, dit le renard. On voit sur la Terre toutes sortes de choses�
-Oh! ce n’est pas sur la Terre, dit le petit prince. Le renard parut tr�s intrigu� :
-Sur une autre plan�te ?
-Oui.
-Il y a des chasseurs sur cette plan�te-l� ?
-Non.
-Ca, c’est int�ressant! Et des poules ?
-Non.
-Rien n’est parfait, soupira le renard.
Mais le renard revint � son id�e :
-Ma vie est monotone. Je chasse les poules, les hommes me chassent. Toutes les poules se ressemblent, et tous les hommes se ressemblent. Je m’ennuie donc un peu. Mais si tu m’apprivoises, ma vie sera comme ensoleill�e. Je conna�trai un bruit de pas qui sera diff�rent de tous les autres. Les autres pas me font rentrer sous terre. Le tien m’appelera hors du terrier, comme une musique. Et puis regarde! Tu vois, l�-bas, les champs de bl�? Je ne mange pas de pain. Le bl� pour moi est inutile. Les champs de bl� ne me rappellent rien. Et �a, c’est triste! Mais tu a des cheveux couleur d’or. Alors ce sera merveilleux quand tu m’aura apprivois�! Le bl�, qui est dor�, me fera souvenir de toi. Et j’aimerai le bruit du vent dans le bl�
Le renard se tut et regarda longtemps le petit prince :
-S’il te pla�t� apprivoise-moi! dit-il.
-Je veux bien, r�pondit le petit prince, mais je n’ai pas beaucoup de temps. J’ai des amis � d�couvrir et beaucoup de choses � conna�tre.
-On ne conna�t que les choses que l’on apprivoise, dit le renard. Les hommes n’ont plus le temps de rien conna�tre. Il ach�tent des choses toutes faites chez les marchands. Mais comme il n’existe point de marchands d’amis, les hommes n’ont plus d’amis. Si tu veux un ami, apprivoise-moi!
-Que faut-il faire? dit le petit prince.
-Il faut �tre tr�s patient, r�pondit le renard. Tu t’assoiras d’abord un peu loin de moi, comme �a, dans l’herbe. Je te regarderai du coin de l’oeil et tu ne diras rien. Le langage est source de malentendus. Mais, chaque jour, tu pourras t’asseoir un peu plus pr�s�
Le lendemain revint le petit prince.
-Il e�t mieux valu revenir � la m�me heure, dit le renard. Si tu viens, par exemple, � quatre heures de l’apr�s-midi, d�s trois heures je commencerai d’�tre heureux. Plus l’heure avancera, plus je me sentirai heureux. � quatre heures, d�j�, je m’agiterai et m’inqui�terai; je d�couvrira le prix du bonheur! Mais si tu viens n’importe quand, je ne saurai jamais � quelle heure m’habiller le coeur� il faut des rites.
-Qu’est-ce qu’un rite? dit le petit prince.
-C’est quelque chose trop oubli�, dit le renard. C’est ce qui fait qu’un jour est diff�rent des autres jours, une heure, des autres heures. Il y a un rite, par exemple, chez mes chasseurs. Ils dansent le jeudi avec les filles du village. Alors le jeudi est jour merveilleux! Je vais me promener jusqu’� la vigne. Si les chasseurs dansaient n’importe quand, les jours se ressembleraient tous, et je n’aurait point de vacances.
Ainsi le petit prince apprivoisa le renard. Et quand l’heure du d�part fut proche :
-Ah! dit le renard� je preurerai.
-C’est ta faute, dit le petit prince, je ne te souhaitais point de mal, mais tu as voulu que je t’apprivoise�
-Bien s�r, dit le renard.
-Mais tu vas pleurer! dit le petit prince.
-Bien s�r, dit le renard.
-Alors tu n’y gagnes rien!
-J’y gagne, dit le renard, � cause de la couleur du bl�.
Puis il ajouta :
-Va revoir les roses. Tu comprendras que la tienne est unique au monde. Tu reviendras me dire adieu, et je te ferai cadeau d’un secret.
Le petit prince s’en fut revoir les roses.
-Vous n’�tes pas du tout semblables � ma rose, vous n’�tes rien encore, leur dit-il. Personne ne vous a apprivois� et vous n’avez apprivois� personne. Vous �tes comme �tait mon renard. Ce n’�tait qu’un renard semblable � cent mille autres. Mais j’en ai fait mon ami, et il est maintenant unique au monde.
Et les roses �taient g�n�es.
-Vous �tes belles mais vous �tes vides, leur dit-il encore. On ne peut pas mourir pour vous. Bien s�r, ma rose � moi, un passant ordinaire croirait qu’elle vous ressemble. Mais � elle seule elle est plus importante que vous toutes, puisque c’est elle que j’ai arros�e. Puisque c’est elle que j’ai abrit�e par le paravent. Puisque c’est elle dont j’ai tu� les chenilles (sauf les deux ou trois pour les papillons). Puisque c’est elle que j’ai �cout�e se plaindre, ou se vanter, ou m�me quelquefois se taire. Puisque c’est ma rose.
Et il revint vers le renard :
-Adieu, dit-il�
-Adieu, dit le renard. Voici mon secret. Il est tr�s simple : on ne voit bien qu’avec le coeur. L’essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.
-L’essentiel est invisible pour les yeux, r�p�ta le petit prince, afin de se souvenir.
-C’est le temps que tu a perdu pour ta rose qui fait ta rose si importante.
-C’est le temps que j’ai perdu pour ma rose� fit le petit prince, afin de se souvenir.
-Les hommes on oubli� cette v�rit�, dit le renard. Mais tu ne dois pas l’oublier. Tu deviens responsable pour toujours de ce que tu as apprivois�. Tu es responsable de ta rose�
-Je suis responsable de ma rose� r�p�ta le petit prince, afin de se souvenir.

Voici mon secret. Il est tr�s simple : on ne voit bien qu’avec le coeur. L’essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.

I could say that all day. “L’essentiel est invisible pour les yeux” Beautiful.

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7 Responses to Saint-Ex: “Voici mon secret.”

  1. RTG says:

    I’m in tears. It’s not just pregnancy hormones, an easy excuse for any excess emotion. It’s that the words came back to me and shined with facets of meaning. Again, and with different meanings than the first time I read them.

    Thanks for posting that. It came at a time when I needed it but didn’t even know I needed it.

  2. red says:

    It’s amazing how literature can work like that, isn’t it?

  3. Doug Sundseth says:

    The timing is interesting. By August of 1939, war was looking more and more likely, and Charles Lindbergh had already decided that the Germans were quite likely to win any European war (after several years of close contact with the Germans).

    I wonder what effect that had on each of the three principals? The run-up to war, especially given that the most recent general war had been WWI, must have been especially emotionally charged.

  4. Lisa says:

    That passage reminds me of my favorite part of The Velveteen Rabbit:

    “What is REAL?” Asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”
    “Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a very long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become real.”
    “Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.
    “Sometimes, ” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are real you don’t mind being hurt.”

    “Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”
    “It doesn’t happen all at once, ” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But those things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

  5. Kate says:

    Leave it to the French dude to make a woman feel like a queen. “Le plus ca change. . .”

    What a beautiful story–I had no idea that they crossed paths, Anne L and Saint-Ex.

  6. red says:

    Kate – yeah, her journal entries about him are just amazing. She has 5 kids by this point, but she basically goes on and on and ON about Saint-Ex as though she’s 14 years old. When he disappeared, she went into a deep depression – and her last entry (at least in the journals that have been published) is a yowl of pain about him being gone.

  7. red says:

    Lisa – God, that book just kills me. So wonderful, so true … but just heart-breaking at the same time.

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