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.Women, be therefore courageous, free; play at being men, writelike them; but never get far from them; live under their gaze,compensate for your books by your children; enjoy a free rein for awhile, but quickly come back to your condition.One novel, onechild, a little feminism, a little connubiality.Let us tie theadventure of art to the strong pillars of the home: both will profit agreat deal from this combination: where myths are concerned,mutual help is always fruitful.For instance, the Muse will give its sublimity to the humble tasksof the home; and in exchange, to thank her for this favour, the49 50 myth of child-bearing will lend to the Muse, who sometimes has is a luxury, it is possible only if you first acknowledge thethe reputation of being a little wanton, the guarantee of its obligations of your nature.Write, if you want to, we women shallrespectability, the touching decor of the nursery.So that all is well all be very proud of it; but don't forget on the other hand toin the best of all worlds - that of Elle.Let women acquire self- produce children, for that is your destiny.A jesuitic morality: adaptconfidence: they can very well have access, like men, to the the moral rule of your condition, but never compromise about thesuperior status of creation.But let men be quickly reassured: dogma on which it rests.women will not be taken from them for all that, they will remainno less available for motherhood by nature.Elle nimbly plays aMolièresque scene, says yes on one side and no on the other, andbusies herself in displeasing no one; like Don Juan between histwo peasant girls, Elle says to women: you are worth just as muchas men; and to men: your women will never be anything butwomen.Man at first seems absent from this double parturition; children andnovels alike seem to come by themselves, and to belong to themother alone.At a pinch, and by dint of seeing seventy timesbooks and kids bracketed together, one would think that they areequally the fruits of imagination and dream, the miraculousproducts of an ideal parthenogenesis able to give at once towoman, apparently, the Balzacian joys of creation and the tenderjoys of motherhood.Where then is man in this family picture?Nowhere and everywhere, like the sky, the horizon, an authoritywhich at once determines and limits a condition.Such is the worldof Elle: women there are always a homogeneous species, anestablished body jealous of its privileges, still more enamoured ofthe burdens that go with them.Man is never inside, femininity ispure, free, powerful; but man is everywhere around, he presses onall sides, he makes everything exist; he is in all eternity thecreative absence, that of the Racinian deity: the feminine world ofElle, a world without men, but entirely constituted by the gaze ofman, is very exactly that of the gynaeceum.In every feature of Elle we find this twofold action: lock thegynaeceum, then and only then release woman inside.Love, work,write, be business-women or women of letters, but alwaysremember that man exists, and that you are not made like him;your order is free on condition that it depends on his; your freedom51 52 identify himself as owner, as user, never as creator; he does notinvent the world, he uses it: there are, prepared for him, actionsToyswithout adventure, without wonder, without joy.He is turned intoa little stay-at-home householder who does not even have to inventthe mainsprings of adult causality; they are supplied to him ready-made: he has only to help himself, he is never allowed to discoverFrench toys: one could not find a better illustration of the fact thatanything from start to finish.The merest set of blocks, provided itthe adult Frenchman sees the child as another self.All the toys oneis not too refined, implies a very different learning of the world:commonly sees are essentially a microcosm of the adult world;then, the child does not in any way create meaningful objects, itthey are all reduced copies of human objects, as if in the eyes ofmatters little to him whether they have an adult name; the actionsthe public the child was, all told, nothing but a smaller man, ahe performs are not those of a user but those of a demiurge.Hehomunculus to whom must be supplied objects of his own size.creates forms which walk, which roll, he creates life, not property:objects now act by themselves, they are no longer an inert andInvented forms are very rare: a few sets of blocks, which appeal tocomplicated material in the palm of his hand
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