After returning to the US from his Quebec speaking tour, Saint-Exupéry was pressed to work on a children’s book by Elizabeth Reynal, one of the wives of his US publisher, Reynal & Hitchcock. The French wife of Eugene Reynal had closely observed Saint-Exupéry for several months, and noting his ill health and high stress levels, she suggested to him that working on a children’s story would help. The author wrote and illustrated The Little Prince at various locations in New York City but principally in the Long Island north-shore community of Asharoken in mid-to-late 1942, with the manuscript being completed in October.
Although the book was started in his Central Park South penthouse, Saint-Exupéry soon found New York City’s noise and sweltering summer heat too uncomfortable to work in and so Consuelo was dispatched to find improved accommodations. After spending some time at an unsuitable clapboard country house in Westport, Connecticut, they found Bevin House, a 22-room mansion in Asharoken that overlooked Long Island Sound. The author-aviator initially complained, “I wanted a hut, and it’s the Palace of Versailles.” As the weeks wore on, the author became invested in his project and the home would become “a haven for writing, the best place I have ever had anywhere in my life.” He devoted himself to the book on mostly midnight shifts, usually starting at about 11 pm, fueled by helpings of scrambled eggs on English muffins, gin and tonics, Coca-Colas, cigarettes and numerous visits by friends and expatriates who dropped in to see their famous countryman. One of the visitors was his wife’s Swiss writer paramour Denis de Rougemont, who also modeled for a painting of the Little Prince lying on his stomach, feet and arms extended up in the air. De Rougemont would later help Consuelo write her autobiography, The Tale of the Rose, as well as write his own biography of Saint-Exupéry.
While the author’s personal life was frequently chaotic, his creative process while writing was disciplined. Christine Nelson, curator of literary and historical manuscripts at the Morgan Library and Museum which had obtained Saint-Exupéry’s original manuscript in 1968, stated: “On the one hand, he had a clear vision for the shape, tone, and message of the story. On the other hand, he was ruthless about chopping out entire passages that just weren’t quite right”, eventually distilling the 30,000 word manuscript, accompanied by small illustrations and sketches, to approximately half its original length. The story, the curator added, was created when he was “an ex-patriate and distraught about what was going on in his country and in the world.”
The large white Second French Empire-style mansion, hidden behind tall trees, afforded the writer a multitude of work environments, but he usually wrote at a large dining table. It also allowed him to alternately work on his writings and then on his sketches and watercolours for hours at a time, moving his armchair and paint easel from the library towards the parlor one room at a time in search of sunlight. His meditative view of sunsets at the Bevin House were incorporated in the book, where the prince visits a small planet with 43 daily sunsets, a planet where all that is needed to watch a sunset “is move your chair a few steps.”
Manuscript
The original 140-page autograph manuscript of The Little Prince, along with various drafts and trial drawings, were acquired from the author’s close friend Silvia Hamilton in 1968 by curator Herbert Cahoon of the Pierpont Morgan Library (now The Morgan Library & Museum) in Manhattan, New York City. It is the only known surviving handwritten draft of the complete work. The manuscript’s pages include large amounts of the author’s prose that was struck-through and therefore not published as part of the first edition. In addition to the manuscript, several watercolour illustrations by the author are also held by the museum. They were not part of the first edition. The institution has marked both the 50th and 70th anniversaries of the novella’s publication, along with the centenary celebration of the author’s birth, with major exhibitions of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s literary works. Physically, the manuscript’s onion skin media has become brittle and subject to damage. Saint-Exupéry’s handwriting is described as being doctor-like, verging on indecipherable.
The story’s keynote aphorism, On ne voit bien qu’avec le cœur. L’essentiel est invisible pour les yeux (“One sees clearly only with the heart. What is essential is invisible to the eye”) was reworded and rewritten some 15 times before achieving its final phrasing. Saint-Exupéry also used a Dictaphone recorder to produce oral drafts for his typist. His initial 30,000-word working manuscript was distilled to less than half its original size through laborious editing sessions. Multiple versions of its many pages were created and its prose then polished over several drafts, with the author occasionally telephoning friends at 2:00 a.m. to solicit opinions on his newly written passages.
Many pages and illustrations were cut from the finished work as he sought to maintain a sense of ambiguity to the story’s theme and messages. Included among the deletions in its 17th chapter were references to locales in New York, such as the Rockefeller Center and Long Island. Other deleted pages described the prince’s vegetarian diet and the garden on his home asteroid that included beans, radishes, potatoes and tomatoes, but which lacked fruit trees that might have overwhelmed the prince’s planetoid. Deleted chapters discussed visits to other asteroids occupied by a retailer brimming with marketing phrases, and an inventor whose creation could produce any object desired at a touch of its controls. Likely the result of the ongoing war in Europe weighing on Saint-Exupéry’s shoulders, the author produced a sombre three-page epilogue lamenting “On one star someone has lost a friend, on another someone is ill, on another someone is at war…”, with the story’s pilot-narrator noting of The Prince: “he sees all that. . . . For him, the night is hopeless. And for me, his friend, the night is also hopeless.” The draft epilogue was also omitted from the novella’s printing.
Further information: Morgan exhibitions
In April 2012 a Parisian auction house announced the discovery of two previously unknown draft manuscript pages that included new text. In the newly discovered material the Prince meets his first Earthling after his arrival. The person he meets is an “ambassador of the human spirit”. The ambassador is too busy to talk, saying he is searching for a missing six letter word: “I am looking for a six-letter word that starts with G that means ‘gargling’ “, he says. Saint-Exupéry’s text does not say what the word is, but experts believe it could be “guerre” (or “war”). The novella thus takes a more politicized tack with an anti-war sentiment, as ‘to gargle’ in French is an informal reference to ‘honour’, which the author may have viewed as a key factor in military confrontations between nations.
Dedication
Saint-Exupéry met Léon Werth (1878–1955), a writer and art critic, in 1931. Werth soon became Saint-Exupery’s closest friend outside of his Aeropostale associates. Werth was an anarchist, a leftist Bolshevik supporter of Jewish descent, twenty-two years older than Saint-Exupéry.
Saint-Exupéry dedicated two books to him, Lettre à un otage (Letter to a Hostage) and Le Petit Prince (The Little Prince), and referred to Werth in three more of his works. At the beginning of the Second World War while writing The Little Prince, Saint-Exupéry lived in his downtown New York City apartment, thinking of his native France and his friends. Werth spent the war unobtrusively in Saint-Amour, his village in the Jura, a mountainous region near Switzerland where he was “alone, cold and hungry”, a place that had few polite words for French refugees. Werth appears in the preamble to the novella, where Saint-Exupéry dedicates the book to him:
To Leon Werth
I ask children to forgive me for dedicating this book to a grown-up. I have a serious excuse: this grown-up is the best friend I have in the world. I have another excuse: this grown-up can understand everything, even books for children. I have a third excuse: he lives in France where he is hungry and cold. He needs to be comforted. If all these excuses are not enough then I want to dedicate this book to the child whom this grown-up once was. All grown-ups were children first. (But few of them remember it.) So I correct my dedication:
To Leon Werth,
When he was a little boy
Saint-Exupéry’s aircraft disappeared over the Mediterranean in July 1944. The following month, Werth learned of his friend’s disappearance from a radio broadcast. Without having yet heard of The Little Prince, in November, Werth discovered that Saint-Exupéry had published a fable the previous year in the U.S., which he had illustrated himself, and that it was dedicated to him. At the end of the Second World War, which Antoine de Saint-Exupéry did not live to see, Werth said: “Peace, without Tonio (Saint-Exupéry) isn’t entirely peace.” Werth did not see the text for which he was so responsible until five months after his friend’s death, when Saint-Exupéry’s French publisher, Gallimard, sent him a special edition. Werth died in Paris in 1955.
Illustrations
All of the novella’s simple but elegant watercolour illustrations, which were integral to the story, were painted by Saint-Exupéry. He had studied architecture as a young adult but nevertheless could not be considered an artist – which he self-mockingly alluded to in the novella’s introduction. Several of his illustrations were painted on the wrong side of the delicate onion skin paper
