Chapter 5

Each day I learned something about the little prince's planet, his departure from it, his journey. The details came very slowly, in the course of conversation. So it was, on the third day, that I learned about the terrible baobabs.

This time, once again, I had the sheep to thank. For, abruptly - as if seized by grave doubts — the little prince demanded:

'It is true, isn't it, that sheep eat small bushes?'

'Yes. It is true.'

'Good! I am glad!'

I could not see why it was so important that sheep should eat small bushes. But the little prince added:

'Then it follows that they also eat baobabs?'

I reminded the little prince that baobabs are not small bushes but trees the size of churches; and that even if he took a whole herd of elephants home with him, they would not succeed in dispatching a single baobab.

The idea of the herd of elephants made the little prince laugh.

'They would have to be stacked on top of each other.'

Then he observed, wisely enough:

'Baobabs, before they grow big, start off small'

'So they do. But why do you want your sheep to eat up the baby baobabs?'

He merely replied: 'Oh, come, come', as if it went without saying. And I had to make a great mental effort to work out the problem on my own.

In effect, there were on the little prince's planet, as on every planet, good plants and bad plants. And consequently there were good seeds from good plants, and bad seeds from bad plants. But seeds, as everyone knows, are invisible. They sleep in the secrecy of the earth, until one of them suddenly decides to wake up. So it stretches itself and, timidly at first, extends towards the sun a ravishing, innocent little shoot. If this happens to be a sprig of radish, or the beginnings of a rose bush, you can leave it to grow wherever it wishes. But if it turns out to be a bad plant, you must root it up at once, the very instant you recognize it. Now there were some terrible seeds on the little prince's planet — namely those of the baobab tree. The soil of the planet was infested with them. And a baobab, if you tackle it too late, can never be got rid of afterwards. It clutters everything. It will bore right through a planet with its roots. And if the planet is too small, and if the baobabs are too numerous, they will finally make the planet explode.

'It's a question of discipline,' the little prince informed me later on. 'When you finish washing and dressing each morning, you must carefully wash and dress your planet. You must force yourself to pull up the baobabs regularly, as soon as they can be distinguished from the rose trees — which they resemble so closely in early youth. It is very tedious work, but it is very easy.'

And one day he suggested that I set about making a beautiful drawing, so as to give children on my planet a clear idea of all this, 'Then, if one day they travel,' he said, 'that will be of use to them. Sometimes one can safely put off what needs doing until later. But in the case of baobabs it always ends in disaster. I knew a planet that was inhabited by a lazy fellow. He neglected three little bushes, and guess what happened...

So, following the little prince's directions, I have made a drawing of that planet. I don't much like adopting the tone of a moralist. But the peril of baobabs is so little understood, and the risks run by anyone who strays on to an asteroid are so considerable, that for once I will break my usual reserve, and say categorically: 'Children! Beware of baobabs!'

It is to warn friends of a danger they have skirted unknowingly for too long, as I myself have done, that I worked so hard at this drawing. The lesson I had to pass on was worth the trouble it has cost me. Perhaps you are asking yourselves: why are there no other drawings in this book as magnificent as the baobab drawing? The answer is quite simple: I tried with the rest, but did not succeed. When I drew the baobabs I was driven on by a sense of urgency.