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本期文稿：
To Leon Werth
I ask the indulgence of the
children who may read this book
for dedicating it to a grown-up. I
have a serious reason: he is the
best friend I have in the world. I
have another reason: this grown-
up understands everything, even
books about children. I have a third
reason: he lives in France where
he is hungry and cold. He needs
cheering up. If all these reasons
are not enough, I will dedicate the
book to the child from whom this
grown-up grew. All grownups were
once children-- although few of
them remember it. And so I correct
my dedication:
To Leon Werth
when he was a little boy
[ Chapter 1 ]
- we are introduced to the
narrator, a pilot, and his ideas about grown-
ups
Once when I was six years old
I saw a magnificent picture in
a book called True Stories
from Nature, about the primeval forest. It was a
picture of a boa constrictor
in the act of swallowing an
animal. Here is a copy of the
drawing.
In the book it said: "Boa
constrictors swallow their
prey whole, without chewing it.
After that they are not able
to move, and they sleep
through the six months that
they need for digestion."
I pondered deeply, then, over
the adventures of the jungle.
And after some work with a
colored pencil I succeeded in making my first drawing. My Drawing Number One.
It looked like this:
I showed my masterpiece to the
grown-ups, and asked them
whether the drawing frightened
them.
But they answered: "Frighten?
Why should any one be
frightened by a hat?" My drawing was not a picture
of a hat. It was a picture of
a boa constrictor digesting an
elephant. But since the grown-
ups were not able to
understand it, I made another
drawing: I drew the inside of
the boa constrictor, so that
the grown-ups could see it
clearly. They always need to
have things explained. My
Drawing Number Two looked like
this:
The grown-ups' response, this
time, was to advise me to lay
aside my drawings of boa constrictors, whether from the inside or the outside, and
devote myself instead to
geography, history, arithmetic
and grammar. That is why, at
the age of six, I gave up what
might have been a magnificent
career as a painter. I had
been disheartened by the
failure of my Drawing Number
One and my Drawing Number Two.
Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves, and it
is tiresome for children to be
always and forever explaining
things to them.
So then I chose another
profession, and learned to
pilot airplanes. I have flown
a little over all parts of the
world; and it is true that
geography has been very useful
to me. At a glance I can
distinguish China from Arizona.
If one gets lost in the night,
such knowledge is valuable.
In the course of this life I
have had a great many
encounters with a great many
people who have been concerned
with matters of consequence. I
have lived a great deal among
grown-ups. I have seen them
intimately, close at hand. And
that hasn't much improved my
opinion of them.
Whenever I met one of them who
seemed to me at all clear-
sighted, I tried the
experiment of showing him my
Drawing Number One, which I
have always kept. I would try
to find out, so, if this was a
person of true understanding.
But, whoever it was, he, or
she, would always say:
"That is a hat."
Then I would never talk to that person about boa
constrictors, or primeval forests, or stars. I
would bring myself down to his
level. I would talk to him
about bridge, and golf, and
politics, and neckties. And
the grown-up would be greatly
pleased to have met such a
sensible man.
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