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Journal of Modern Greek Studies, Volume 12, Number 1, May 1994,

pp. 75-106 (Article)
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DOI: 10.1353/mgs.2010.0186
For additional information about this article

http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/mgs/summary/v012/12.1.bakalaki.html
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Gender-Related Discourses and
Representations of Cultural
Specificity in Nineteenth-Century
and Twentieth-Century Greece
Alexandra Bakalaki
Abstract
The nineteenth-century discourse on women's education in Greece was a

part of a more general nationalist ideology aimed at promoting Greece's
westernization. Arguments put forth by members of the educated elite con-
cerning the quantity, form, and content ofgirh' schooling generally appealed
to European examphs. Curiously, many of this discourse's central ideas
about the nature and callings of womanhood appear to be strikingly similar
to gender-related ideas documented by ethnographers, and usually considered
fundamental features of local communities or of Greek culture generally.
The possible analogies and hÃ¼orical connections between nineteenth- and
twentieth-century gender-related ideas suggest that ethnographers have over-
emphasized the Greeh' own sense of cultural specificity v&Ã -vLÂ· "Euro-
peans." Conversely, they have underestimated the extent to which Greeks see
themselves through a "European" perspective and internalize a "European"
identity.
The gradual enlargement of the scope of anthropology since the 1960s

has meant that the types of society constituting proper or legitimate
objects of anthropological study have multiplied. Focusing on "com-
plex," "modern," "Western," "home," or "close-to-home" societies in-
stead of remote "primitive" cultures is no longer regarded as a com-
promise for which shrinking options are to blame. This development
has generated criticism of the anthropological tendency to view so-
cieties and cultures as separate wholes constituting unique experi-
ments in and manifestations of human potential. However, it has not
undermined the emphasis placed by anthropologists on "otherness";
this concept may now be used, along with "cultural difference," as a
blanket term referring to the object of anthropology (Hannerz 1986).
Indeed, "otherness" has emerged as a major value. Discerning it and
Journal of Modem Greek Studies, Volume 12, 1994.
75
76 Alexandra Bakalaki
making it visible is often considered proof of the anthropologist's

acuity or sensitivityÂ—even a measure of his or her commitment to the
discipline's integrity.
In this context, the urge to focus on the global processes by which
"others" have become integrated into Western-dominated political or
economic systems (Wolf 1982; Fabian 1983; Mintz 1985; Appadurai
1991; Hannerz 1992) has been met with a growing interest in "other
histories" (see Hastrup 1992) or in the perspective of "the folks on
the shore" (Ortner 1984: 143; Sahlins 1985). As Hastrup explains
(1992: 7-9), this commitment to "otherness" is predicated on the
understanding that the reality that people experience in particular
times and places is the effect of their belonging to specific "worlds,"
i.e., to "self-defining social spaces." "Not only do worlds create their
own systems of causation, based in culturally mediated experience,
but such 'causal systems' in turn greatly influence the course of events"
(Hastrup 1992: 9). The anthropological interest in history, then, is
not only compatible with a commitment to the notion of the "native"
(see Appadurai 1988) but may also appear to vindicate the method-
ological closure usually associated with the synchronic study of closed
communities (cf. Llobera 1986; Albera 1988).
In the context of the anthropological study of Greece, Michael
Herzfeld (especially 1982 and 1987) has examined in great depth the
creation and social uses of alternative versions of history in connection
with the articulation between local and rural as well as national and
international concerns and contexts. Herzfeld posits two models in
terms of which Greeks represent themselves to "outsiders" and to
themselves. Although these models do not comprise a binary code of
single opposite values, they do make up a "system [that] allows the
constant manipulation of meanings through the use of a social ar-
chitectonics of belonging and exclusion" (1987: 116). According to
Herzfeld, Greek culture is characterized by an extreme form oiduemia.
The two models refer to various ideas, qualities, values, and postures
associated with concealment and display, introversion and extrover-
sion, shame and honor, intimacy and contact with outsiders. They also
correspond to perceptions of history generated by a "Hellenic" na-
tionalist mode of self-representation, on the one hand, and a "Romeic"
mode of self-recognition, on the other.
To focus on the articulation between local and larger contexts
and concerns may be one way to reconcile the apparent contradiction
between local discourses, historical or other, and those derived or
imposed from without. According to Herzfeld's conceptualization,
however, the two models of discourse corresponding to local and
broader concerns are constructed in opposition to one another on
Gender-Related Discourses 77
many levels. The possibility that they may be analytically integrated

or collapsed into one another even partially is precluded by this con-
ceptualization. Hence Herzfeld notes the possibilityÂ—and the dan-
gerÂ—of overemphasizing one at the expense of the other: "In the
headlong rush to make our studies less exotic and more 'relevant', we
all too easily forget to give the villagers themselves a voice" (1985: xi).
He resolves the dilemma concerning a focus on the local level or on
its integration into and domination by larger structures by recom-
mending that ethnographers pay equal attention to both.
This paper suggests that at least in certain respects the Greeks'
view of themselves (as "folks on the shore") is not constructed in
opposition to their view of others (as "folks on the ship") but is pred-
icated on perceptions of the latter perspective. The Greeks' view of
themselves is also influenced by their sense that they live in the same
world as "Europeans." This not only enables them to put themselves
in the shoes of "others" but demands that they do so constantly and
in various ways (cf. Rosaldo 1988).
The analysis presented here draws on notions of womanhood
and domesticity that were dominant in the nineteenth-century dis-
course on women's education, on the one hand, and, on the other,
are seen in contemporary, ethnographically documented gender-
related ideas, values, and attitudes. The main question posed by these
two sets of materials concerns certain paradoxical resonances between
them. The paradox lies in the fact that the two discourses refer to
different contexts and involve different premises. The former is part
of a more general nationalist ideology and appeals explicitly to "Eu-
rope" as a model. Aspects of the latter have generally been presented
by ethnographers as manifestations of local culture and of Greece's
otherness. The resonances between the two discourses provide yet
another illustration of Herzfeld's insight (1985: 54) that in Greece
"local claims to European identity have clashed with European claims
of Greek otherness." However, these resonances also modify his own
emphasis on disemiaÂ—the irreducibility of the dilemmas concerning
Greek identityÂ—by drawing more attention to the internalization of
European identity by Greeks.
Womanhood and domesticity in the nineteenth-century Greek discourse on

women's education
The general context. From the time of the establishment of the

Greek state, and especially during the second half of the nineteenth
century, women's education was the subject of extensive debates
among Greek intellectuals, educators, and social commentators. These
debates, as well as the practices associated with women's education,

have recently been documented and discussed by several Greek fem-
inist researchers (Ziogou-Karastergiou 1986; Bakalaki & Elegmitou
1987; Fournaraki 1987a; Varika 1987) who explore nineteenth-cen-
tury womanhood. The available sources of information on women's
education are, for the most part, (a) archival materials concerning
curricula and other formal aspects of schooling, (b) texts discussing
the normative aspects of women's education Â—its form, content, quan-
tity, quality, and purposeÂ—in ways determined by how the authors
perceived such education and thought it should be reformed.
Participants in this debate over women's education almost in-
variably supported their views and recommendations, and legitimated
them, by referring to "European" examples. In fact it was exactly in
the context of this shared vision of the creation of a "European" social
orderÂ—however diversely it itself and the ways of achieving it were
perceived (Skopetea 1988: 161)Â—that women's education emerged as
a relevant issue. The questions of its form and content were pressing
ones because they constituted an aspect of the desire to move Greek
society as a whole in the direction of westernization.
The first girls' schools that opened in Greece in the late 1820s
were operated by American missionaries (Fournaraki 1987b: 17Â—20).
The entitlement of girls to public education at the primary level was
legally granted immediately after the establishment of the Greek state.
However, the legal prohibition, in 1852, of coeducation at the primary
school level acted as a deterrent to girls' schooling. Throughout the
nineteenth century, women's secondary education remained private.
Prospective teachers, usually recipients of state scholarships, were ed-
ucated in private girls' schools, Ï€Î±Ï•Î¸ÎµÎ½Î±Î³Ï‰Î³ÎµÎ¯Î± (literally, institutions
for the training of virgins). Wealthy urban families who desired a
"finishing school" for their daughters sent them to these same schools. '
The fact that secondary girls' schools remained exclusively pri-
vate throughout the nineteenth century undoubtedly contributed to
limited rates of attendance (Ziogou-Karastergiou 1986: 238Â—240). But
the very marginality of women's education also facilitated its alignment
with the priorities of an ascending elite. Although the economic, po-
litical, and ideological orientations of this elite were disparate, these
people's prestige, their claims to cultural hegemony, and their collec-
tive self-representation as a "civilizing" agent were largely grounded
in their conspicuous display of "European" ways. Along with "Euro-
pean" ideas, world views, institutions, and goods, they also imported
a "European" savoir-faire, a code of conduct that applied to domesticity
and gender relations, among other things (Kondylis 1991: 10, 14, 40).
Exposure to and identification with "European" ways had also distin-
guished the lifestyle of privileged classes of Greeks in the Ottoman

Empire. It is indicative of this Western orientation that, in the 1820s,
educated Phanariot women had translated a small number of French
works aiming to prepare young women for wifehood and motherhood
(Kitromilides 1983).
The discourse on the education of women, then, constitutes priv-
ileged grounds for exploring the ways in which the emergent elite in
Greece perceived and signified its affinities with "Europe" and went
about its "civilizing" mission, the cultural embourgeoisement of the rest
of the population. In the process of being transferred, "European"
ideas and models were often distorted; moreover, they were often
combined with "indigenous" or more "traditional" ways of thinking
(Kondylis 1991: 40). This does not mean, however, that they were any
less powerful as guidelines for thinking about local problems and the
construction of a desired order (Vitti 1991: 94), or any less important
as distinguishing features for the elite. Western missionaries who set
up educational institutions in various parts of the Ottoman Empire
in the nineteenth century had contributed in similar ways to distortion
of the European values they had undertaken to disseminate. If nothing
else, the religious character of the education they provided was already
an anachronism in Europe. Nevertheless, this did not prevent "foreign
schools" from functioning as vestiges of "European" presence in the
Orient or from being perceived as such by the local populations (Sko-
petea 1992: 35-37).
Women's destiny, education, and the progress of the nation. In nineteenth-

century Greece, alternative answers to dilemmas concerning the de-
sired character of women's education were sought among the nuances
of female nature and the demands of female destiny. Generally these
were defined in terms of their divergence from the stuff and callings
of manhood. Warnings against "excesses" pointed to the danger that
too much schooling would divert girls from their domestic and es-
pecially their motherly duties. Such warnings often invoked "scientific
evidence" concerning the ill effects of education on women's functions
as bearers and mothers of children. The counter-argument was that
increased education and/or education of a broader scope would im-
prove women's performance in exactly the same function. Both the
"opponents" and "proponents" of women's education (the distinction
is highly relative, since hardly anybody argued that the education of
women should be left strictly to "nature") perceived the purpose of
women's schooling to be fundamentally different from the purpose
of schooling for men. Whereas the latter was meant to produce "cit-
izens," the former was a means of creating "mothers" (Bakalaki &

Elegmitou 1987: 17-30; Fournaraki 1987b: 16-17).
Arguments both for and against increased schooling for girls
usually invoked "European" examples. The tendency to advocate a
limited education for women and/or to argue for specific kinds of
knowledge appropriate for future wives and mothers was not confined
to Greece. In fact, the idea that education should help improve wom-
en's capacity as mothers is rooted in Jean-Jacques Rousseau's under-
standing of the female nature as expressed in Emile (1762). Thus an
1836 Greek treatise, "On the Moral Upbringing of Girls," appealed
to the authority of the French priest and pedagogue FÃ©nelon, who
maintained in his Education des files (1687) that the most honorable
activity for women was the proper management of their homes. How-
ever, the same author also recommended that women be taught the
rudiments of law so they would not fall prey to exploitative lawyers
if they were widowed. This recommendation was endorsed by the
Greek treatise as well (Zondanos 1987 [1836]). And in 1870 Sappho
Leondias, a prominent educator renowned for her role in the struggle
"for the elevation of our sex" through education, cited Michelet's
conception of "woman's inclination": ". . . d'organiser une force, force
efficace et productrice, de crÃ©er un crÃ©ateur" (1987: 209 [1870]). But
Leondias also believed that "woman's inclination" did not preclude
an aptitude for medicine. To prove her point she referred to Toc-
queville's observation that although American women are primarily
dedicated to domestic work, they can be successful students of anatomy
and other branches of medicine.2
In nineteenth-century Greece the debates over the education of
women did not result in any comprehensive legislative or other reform
measures. The first secondary public schools for girls that were equiv-
alent to those for boys opened as late as 1917. What appears as inertia
or indifference regarding the problems of women's education may be
better understood as the effect of profound unease or ambivalence
over the contradictions implicit in the general problem of women's
role in society. This role was attributed to nature. At the same time,
it was recognized that women had to be prepared, and that this prep-
aration had to be planned and regulated in minute detail so as to
agree with nature. Thus the need for planning and regulation not
only affirmed the importance of nature but also undermined the belief
that its demands were indeed unambiguous and self-evident. The fact
that not only the nature and role of women but the nature of Greek
society as a whole was under negotiation made things even more
complex. The notion of a female destiny presupposed a notion of the
sort of society that would benefit from the realization of that destiny.
It also presupposed notions concerning the nature of the public sphere

from which the domestic was to be differentiated. However, these
conceptions, far from given, were the object of a complicated and
often painful quest and negotiation. The debate over the education
of women was but one aspect of these more general issues.
In the context of this debate, there appeared two stereotypes,
contradictory yet equally negative (Fournaraki 1987b: 27Â—31). The
first was the illiterate woman whose backwardness weighed down on
men and children. Eirinaios Asopeios (1987: 185 [1866]) ridiculed
illiterate women's belief in folk medicine, concluding: "La femme sait
un art avant le diable." The second was the mondaine graduate of the
parthenagogion: conceited, frivolous, vain, full of useless knowledge,
shallow, forever parroting foreign modes, of suspect sexual morality
and, of course, highly unreliable as a mother. The lawyer Nikolaos
Saripolos (1987: 179-180 [1866]) stated that if he had had the power
he would have forbidden all girls except orphans to attend boarding
schools, observing that "the worst wives and mothers are those who
have been educated in the parthenagogia." Toward the end of the
nineteenth century, the dangers of an excessively "scholarly" educa-
tion for women were increasingly noted. Such an education was con-
sidered inadequate because it threatened the health of women, gave
them little "useful" knowledge, and detracted from their "practical"
duties in the home.
These negative stereotypes of the illiterate woman and the par-
thenagogion graduate portrayed women as obstacles to progress. Both
were metaphors for fears and dilemmas concerning the nature of
Greek society as a whole, especially regarding its relation to "Europe."
Both referred to the pervasive desire that Greece might converge with
"Europe" politically, economically, and culturally, and the equally per-
vasive sense that this desire had remained unfulfilled (see Skopetea
1988: 161-162). What was stigmatized in the illiterate woman was a
backwardness symbolic of Greece's failure to break with the Ottoman
past (see Herzfeld 1986: 225), while what was stigmatized in the stereo-
type of the mondaine graduate was not "European" models or manners
per se but the tendency to parrot them superficially, emulating their
least desirable aspects or versions. Thus it was not unusual for com-
mentators on women's education to justify their disparagement of
negative "European" models by invoking more positive models that
were also "European." For example, Georgios Manousos (1884) spoke
against the adoption of foreign elements in language and behavior
generally, but expressed his admiration for the fact that, in France,
sewing was a mandatory course in girls' schools, and urged Greek
educators to imitate the French example (see Bakalaki and Elegmitou
1987: 63). Similarly, Grigorios G. Pappadopoulos (1987: 197 [1866])

lamented the popularity of novels like the MystÃ¨res de ParLÂ·, which, he
said, "threaten our practical life," and advised women to turn to Cha-
teaubriand or Sir Walter Scott instead. Finally, Aristotelis Kourtidis
(1987: 531 [1904]) castigated the emphasis on French in the parthen-
agogia as superficial and "decorative," while at the same time appealing
to a French authority, Archbishop Dupanloup, who stigmatized the
superficiality of "women of the world" and found that such women
were "incapable of conversing with their husbands, their fathers-in-
law, or any serious person." Thus, while criticizing the teaching of
French, Kourtidis urged Greek educators to follow the example of
French colleagues who were dedicated to the "reform of women's
souls."
The teaching of domestic economy. "Accomplishments" such as French and

other foreign languages, drawing, music, dance, and embroidery were
the subjects most often castigated as elements of a useless, "decorative"
education and blamed for the character defects that women acquired
at school. In contrast, the teaching of Î¿Î¹ÎºÎ¹Î±ÎºÎ® Î¿Î¹ÎºÎ¿Î½Î¿Ï•Î¯Î± (domestic
economy), was almost unanimously accepted as beneficial to a woman
and necessary for her proper preparation for motherhood, wifehood,
and the role of Î¿Î¹ÎºÎ¿Î´Î-ÏƒÏ€Î¿Î¹Î½Î± (mistress of the house).
Domestic economy appeared as a subject in the curricula of the
parthenagogia after 1850.3 The available textbooks frequently refer to
ÎŸÎ¹ÎºÎ¿Î½Î¿Î¼Î¹ÎºÏŒÏ‚, the ancient treatise by Xenophon. These references af-
firmed the eternal truths of women's identification with the home and
of the division of labor between husband and wife. The universal
applicability of domestic economy was also affirmed by an appeal to
ancient Greek wisdom. At the same time, however, the ideals and
values of domestic economy were considered explicit aspects of a
"European" mode of civilized life that needed to be introduced if the
entire nation were to advance. Thus all the authors of these books
mention that they consulted the works of European authorities in
domestic economy as well as in other fields. Indeed, domestic economy
had been an increasingly popular subject for Western European and
American women since the beginning of the nineteenth century (see
Sklar 1973; Barbier 1980; Dyhouse 1981; Gorham 1982; Ferguson
1983; Martin 1984).4 Also indicative of the dominance of "European"
ideas and values in Greek domestic economy is the fact that the homes
and circumstances described in the Greek books are very similar to
the ones described in Î‰ Ï€ÎµÏ•Î¯ Î¿Î¹ÎºÎ¹Î±ÎºÎ®Ï‚ Î¿Î¹ÎºÎ¿Î½Î¿Î¼Î¯Î±Ï‚ Ï€Ï•Î±Î³Î¼Î±Ï„ÎµÎ¯Î±, the
1871 translation of the French text.
Of the domestic economy books available in nineteenth-century
Greece, those by Zygouras and Leondias are the most theoretical,

exploring issues like the nature and destiny of men and women, their
roles in the home and in society, and the causes of povertyÂ—as well
as the foundations and promises of domestic economy itself. The
authors agree that domestic economy is addressed to women, its object
being the welfare of home and family. However, their notions of
welfare differ. Zygouras emphasizes welfare's economic aspects, ad-
vising women to manage their homes according to the principles and
priorities of economic enterprise, i.e., according to the logic of profit.
The moral values he advocates most strongly are those of the "spirit
of capitalism": industriousness, resourcefulness, austerity, self-reli-
ance, frugality, self-control and, above all, rationality. He disagrees
completely with the sort of domestic economy that focuses on practical
advice concerning the beautification of the home, and considers its
teachings a threat both to the wealth of families and to the morals of
women. In contrast, Leondias defines the welfare of the Î¿Î¯ÎºÎ¿Ï‚ more
broadly. Although she includes the protection and increase of family
wealth among the aspects of family life addressed by domestic econ-
omy, she places more emphasis on the creation and maintenance of
the home as a haven: a comfortable, tasteful, and clean place where
health, harmony, and love may reign, a nest where men return after
work and where children are raised.
Whereas Zygouras emphasizes the continuity between home and
the outer world, Leondias stresses their opposition, reflecting a grow-
ing interest in domestic everyday life manifested in literature, espe-
cially in the genre of Î·Î¸Î¿Î³Ï•Î±Ï†Î¯Î±, as well as in painting, during the
last quarter of the nineteenth century. According to Mario Vitti (1991),
the idealization of everyday life is an important characteristic of many
nineteenth-century literary works, one that distinguishes Greek itho-
grafia from the European realist tradition. It is also connected with
the emerging demoticist movement (see Vitti 1991: 76Â—83; Varika
1987: 80-88, 99). In this context, life in the home as well as life in
the village emerged as dominant motifs: as symbols epitomizing ide-
alized values and modes of being that contrasted with the corruption
of city life, the pursuit of profit, and the ruthless competition for
upward mobility. Motherhood emerged as an overwhelmingly positive
mission for women, one that enabled them to contribute to national
progress in their capacity as transmitters of national consciousness as
well as in their commitment to charity (Varika 1987:97Â—99; Fournaraki
1987b: 31Â—35). The contradictions involved in the earlier quest for
the role of women in society and the conflicting negative stereotypes
of women as either illiterates or superficially educated, frivolous beings
were gradually resolved in favor of the positive role of women as
mothers and, increasingly, also as partners of men. In light of these

aspects of motherhood, the provision of a "practical" education for
women, one free from the excesses of "scholasticism," became espe-
cially relevant (Fournaraki 1987b: 27).
Recently, P. Sant Cassia with C. Bada (1992: 183, 218-224),
noting this emphasis on motherhood, observed that it coincided with
an emphasis on the cult of Mary. They argued that this idealization
of women and the concomitant receding of the negative stereotype
of Eve was a response to women's commodification brought about by
dowry inflation. Women were increasingly associated with the privacy
of the home; motherhood came to represent valuesÂ—including the
Motherland of Greek irredentist discourseÂ—that were above and be-
yond transaction. Fournaraki (1987b: 37) and Varika (1987: 98-99,
106Â—108) trace the additional connection between the idealization of
motherhood and nationalist claims concerning Greece's role in pro-
viding a "civilizing" influence upon the Orient and in "liberating"
territories still under Ottoman rule. However, Fournaraki (1987b: 48)
also notes that the idealization of motherhood may indicate a resistance
to the increasing presence of women in the public sphere demanding
educational rights for women. That these women themselves pro-
moted the ideal of motherhood more than they criticized its distortions
may indicate their own ambivalence toward the ideals of "emanci-
pation" and/or the political strategies they were obliged to employ in
order to gain acceptance for their vision.
In any event, whatever the connection between the ideological
and practical demands of irredentist discourse or commodification
and the celebration of motherhood, we should not underestimate the
fact that the ideal of domesticity and the positive stereotypes of wife,
mother, and mistress of the house as put forth by Leondias reflect
both the values dominant in the European pedagogical literature of
the time (Fournaraki 1987b: 51) and the characteristically "European"
notion of the home as haven. It is well known that the contrastive
distinction between home and workplace and the confinement of
women to the former were becoming more and more prevalent in
Western cities in the nineteenth century. And, as Michelle Rosaldo
observes (1980: 401), although the correlation between public/private
and male/female did not originate in the Victorian era, it was a central
construct of that era's ideology.
"Feminine arts": sewing and embroidery. Î•Ï•Î³ÏŒÏ‡ÎµÎ¹Ï•Î± (sewing and embroi-
dery) held a prominent place in the curricula of nineteenth-century
parthenagogia. According to these schools' programs, girls also had to
practice these arts outside the classroom, during "the rest of the work-
ing hours" they spent at school.5 All concerned with women's education
agreed in principle that Î³Ï…Î½Î±Î¹ÎºÎµÎ¯Î¿Î¹ Ï„Î-Ï‡Î½Î±Î¹ (feminine arts), especially
needlework, were a necessary part of a girl's schooling. Those who
believed, as did Anna Serouiou, the editor of the women's journal
ÎŸÎ¹ÎºÎ¿Î³Î-Î½ÎµÎ¹Î±, that girls' identification with the home needed reinforce-
ment, advocated such identification as a means of inculcating the
values of domesticity in pupils and as a safeguard against "modern"
influences threatening to distract girls from their true destinies. On
the other hand, those who advocated a broader education for women
were more likely to oppose "excesses" in this direction. Nonetheless,
either for strategic reasons or owing to their domestic feminist ori-
entation, or both, they did not challenge, on principle, the need for
teaching needlework.
The point of contention, in other words, was not the need for
needlework lessons but the amount of time that pupils should devote
to such lessons and the sort of skills and tastes they ought to acquire.
Since needle skills could satisfy many different purposes, the teaching
of needlework, and of embroidery in particular, posed important
problems in the debate over "useful/practical" versus "decorative"
knowledge. Embroidery was often criticized as one of the main ele-
ments of an education that encouraged exhibitionist tendencies and
luxurious tastes. Thus, when the renowned folklorist Nikolaos Politis
visited various provincial primary schools as a school inspector in 1883,
he was dismayed to find that the teachers were passing on the same
"tradition" of "luxurious" needlework to which they themselves had
been exposed as students in the parthenagogia:
... as a rule it is only works appropriate for exhibition that are being
taught at the expense of ones that are necessary and most useful. Every-
where I saw embroideries of various sorts displayed, but nowhere were
works of sewing, which is perhaps looked down upon as a more manual
craft. (1885: 75)
And KallirrhoÃ« Parren, the central figure in the nineteenth-century

struggle for the "elevation of our sex," protested:
You are told that your daughter has no free time. The daily French
lesson takes two hours; the piano lesson takes another two or three; two
hours are devoted to walks, two more to another foreign language, and
another two to voice lessons. . . . And the mother proudly recounts this
daily distribution of the time of her daughter, who, on the day after her
wedding does not know how to mend her husband's socks, or how to
sew on his shirt buttons. (1888: 5)
Despite these criticisms, however, the parthenagogia continued to

compete over providing the fanciest and most "luxurious" embroidery
styles and patterns along with various other "accomplishments" they

offered. Perhaps it was in order to appease critics that some schools
sold their students' work for charity purposes. Fancy needlework and
other skills denigrated by some as "decorative" were in high demand
on the part of upwardly mobile or wealthy parents, since "intense"
occupation with the needle signified freedom from other tasks and
was therefore associated with a bourgeois life-style. Parren favorably
compared the fate of working class girls, who had opportunities for
employment outside the house, to the fate of their bourgeois peers,
who spent their days indoors, bent over the needle, "under the night-
mare of boredom, this living death that was imposed on them by their
social position" (1889: 2).
Needlework, although a symbol and instrument of female se-
cluded subordination, also provided poor women with an opportunity
to earn money by making other women's trousseaux. Some charity
organizations employing women to prepare trousseau items for
wealthier brides were renowned for the material quality and the pres-
tigious aesthetic value of the products they marketed (Skouteri-
Didaskalou 1991: 198Â—206). Needlework was one of the main subjects
taught in charity schools, which trained poor women for various kinds
of domestic work (Fournaraki 1987b: 62-63). Needle skills exercised
in the home by prospective brides and their female relatives contrib-
uted to the production of trousseaux, but they also brought public
recognition, especially to the prospective bride. The display of her
trousseau testified not only to the financial standing of her family but
also to her own skills and tastes. Moreover, women could also aspire
to public recognition by participating in needlework exhibitions. In
1897 an invitation to such an exhibition organized by a charity or-
ganization urged prospective participants to send in "useful" works
that were not "luxurious" and did not involve expensive materials.
The exhibition, which took place in a small town, was visited by the
royal family. A gold-threaded embroidered shawl (obviously defying
the directions for simplicity and usefulness) made the king himself
avert his eyes for fear that he would be blinded by the glow (Oikogeneia
1898: 122).
Like the other aspects of nineteenth-century women's education
that we have examined, the discourse on needlework in the schools
and the actual practices of teaching were based on "European" ex-
amples. The parallels between needlework instruction in girls' schools
and the values associated with needlework in Greece and in Western
Europe are indeed striking. In her detailed study of the historical
connections between embroidery and femininity in Europe, Rozsika
Parker finds that "the social and economic forces that were to cate-
gorize embroidery as a feminine domestic art (and finally as almost a

secondary sexual characteristic) were set in motion in the sixteenth
century" (1989:60) when the image of the ideal merchant-class woman
began to emerge as a combination of noble appearance and the in-
clination to hard work that was associated with the laboring classes.
Needlework was included in the curriculum of girls' schools very early,
and it retained its prominent position throughout the nineteenth cen-
tury. In seventeenth-century English schools it enhanced the elevated
class's aspirations to an education that placed great emphasis on "ac-
complishments," yet it also provided an acceptable faÃ§ade to girls'
schooling by making the curriculum appear more feminine, hence
safe (Parker 1989: 73). The emphasis placed upon "accomplishments"
by English eighteenth-century "boarding academies for ladies" is also
noted by Okely (1978: 112). From the eighteenth century on, nee-
dlework was also taught in charity schools preparing poor women for
wifehood, motherhood, and employment as domestic servants (Parker
1989: 107,188).
According to Parker, embroidery and the other domestic arts
were considered opposite to the elements of "real" masculine edu-
cation, and were celebrated or criticized on those grounds. Embroidery
was a symbol and instrument of feminine virtue: it stood for subju-
gation, obedience, chastity, loyalty to family, domesticity, and igno-
rance glossed as innocence. It was valued as a means of disciplining
women and as a safeguard against idleness, promiscuity, and all other
evils to which they might be susceptible. John Taylor's poem "In Praise
of the Needle," published in a 1624 pattern book called The Needle's
Excellency, recommends needlework as a means of curtailing "tongue."
It urges women
To use their tonges [sic] less, and their needles more.
The Needles sharpness, profit yields, and pleasure
But sharpness of the tongue, bites out of measure.
(Cited by Parker 1984: 86)
In contrast, Erasmus had compared "distaff and spindle" to study,

and had found the latter preferable, "for study busies the whole
soul..." (Parker 1984: 75). Not surprisingly, feminists were ambivalent
about embroidery. For example, late nineteenth-century feminist
teachers in English public schools rejected embroidery in favor of
plain sewing (Parker 1984: 188). As early as the seventeenth century,
embroidery was also blamed in England for promoting women's vanity
(Parker 1984: 90); moreover, women's autonomy in choosing patterns
and styles was limited by arguments concerning the relative aesthetic
and moral value of the various alternatives. Thus when a revival of
church embroidery in the 1840s favored medieval styles, women were

ridiculed for the designs they preferred, and were blamed for trans-
ferring their drawing-room patterns of roses to the altar (Parker 1989:
19, 32).
In Greece, "luxurious" needlework remained popular, despite
criticism, and so did embroidery and lace based on "European" pat-
terns. Indeed the "luxurious" and the "European" overlapped insofar
as excessively fancy embroidery was often criticized as indicating wom-
en's vain mimicking of foreign fashion. Yet, in spite of such criticism,
all the parthenagogia employed foreign women as needlework and
handicraft instructors. Their presence in the schools diminished only
after 1877, when a law was passed decreeing that these subjects were
henceforth to be taught by certified teachers. Nevertheless, the schools
continued to use patterns that were similar to those featured in wom-
en's magazines and were advertised explicitly as "European" (Bakalaki
and Elegmitou 1987: 58, 47). Also indicative of the dominance of
"European" fashion was the professed inability of Xenophon Zy-
gouras, author of an 'Î•Î³Ï‡ÎµÎ¹Ï•Î¯Î´Î¹Î¿Î½ Ï•Î±Ï€Ï„Î¹ÎºÎ®Ï‚ published in 1882, to find
appropriate Greek translations for French sewing terminology:
We confronted the necessity to render some of the terms into Greek, to
use others in the form in which they have been established by habit by
the women of our nation, and, in order to make ourselves understood,
also to use [foreign] terms, however barbarous. (1882: B)
The author's excessive use of French terminology was one of the

reasons why this book was rejected by the Ministry of Public Education
and Ecclesiastic Affairs, to which it was submitted for approval as a
teaching text (Bakalaki and Elegmitou 1987: 58, 47).
The preference for "European" styles and patterns became the
object of increasingly harsh criticism at the turn of the century. In
1902 KallirrhoÃ« Parren (1902a) referred to the practice of embroi-
dering monograms and slippers and to crocheting as examples of the
bad taste that was being cultivated in schools. She recommended that
students be taught "Greek handicrafts" instead. On another occasion
(1902b), she lamented the fact that in homes and schools of even the
remotest areas, "aesthetics" began and ended with "the long stitch and
the canvas of blue roses and yellow poppies." She hoped that some
of these remote villages, the ones that had managed to remain un-
tainted by this "orgy of slippers," might contribute to the revival of a
truly Greek "folk aesthetic" comparable to that of ancient Greek vases.
The revival of "Greek" embroidery designs and techniques, as well as
of dances and other aspects of folk culture, was undertaken by several
organizations, the most important of which, the Î‘Ï•ÎºÎµÎ¹Î¿Î½ Ï„Ï‰Î½
Î•Î»Î»Î·Î½Î¯Î´Ï‰Î½ (Greek Women's Lyceum) was founded in 1911 and still

exists today (Skouteri-Didaskalou 1991: 208).
By the turn of the century, the criticism of "European" needle-
work styles was founded more on aesthetic grounds than on moral
ones. Attempts to revive a truly "Greek" aesthetic constituted just one
aspect of a renewed nationalist appeal to the "folk" not only in their
capacity as a link between Greece's glorious past and the nation's future
but also increasingly as the repository of qualities and values meant
to be upheld and exploited as precious weapons in the struggle for
modernization. Given the peculiar class structure of Greek society, it
is not surprising that this movement, which focused primarily on the
demotic language, both looked to the folk as agents of a revolutionary
class consciousness and glorified their ways from the perspective of
European romanticism (Kondylis 1991: 38). In light of the multiple
meanings and political implications of the turn to the folk, then, the
valorization of folk ways was at least partially addressed to and inspired
by "Europe" in the same multiple capacity accorded to "Europe" ear-
lier in the nineteenth century as observer of, model for, and powerful
factor in the process of Greece's modernization (see Skopetea 1988:
161-168).
Recurrent themes and resonances in nineteenth-century gender-related

discourse and Greek ethnography
The idea that men and women are of different natures, the
cornerstone of the nineteenth-century "European" discourse on wom-
en's education, is also recorded by many ethnographers who have
done field work in contemporary Greece. Despite regional or contex-
tual variations in its manifestations, connotations, and implications,
this idea is generally considered a fundamental tenet of Greek rural
culture. On the basis of the ethnographic literature, the organization
of gender relations along such lines emerges as both an important
constitutive element and a symbol of Greek society's cultural specificity
or otherness.6
In tracing resonances and recurrent themes in nineteenth-cen-
tury and contemporary gender-related discourses, we should not lose
sight of the fact that these discourses differ in their historical as well
as their cultural contexts. If nothing else, the purist linguistic idiom
prevalent in nineteenth-century Greek discourse suffices to differ-
entiate that discourse from what ethnographers normally encounter
in the field today. Nevertheless, the two discourses present certain
striking commonalities in values, ideas, stereotypes, and attitudes,
commonalities that have not been sufficiently noticed. Herzfeld's ob-
servations are an exception. He states that the "extroverted Hellenist

ideology" expressed by nineteenth-century educator G. G. Pappa-
dopoulos evokes stereotypes of womanhood similar to those now re-
ported ethnographically. Pappadopoulos advocated the education of
women as both a symbol and a means of severing the ties with the
Ottoman past and facilitating Greece's cultural integration with Eu-
rope. In Pappadopoulos's vision of educated women as helpmates to
men and mediators of conflicts, Herzfeld discerns the stereotype of
women who restrain men from excessive displays of ÎµÎ³Ï‰Î¹ÏƒÏ•ÏŒÏ‚, the
same stereotype that he encountered in his own field work (1986:
226). In the extroverted Hellenism of Pappadopoulos, he also discerns
the negative stereotype of the illiterate woman, once again encoun-
tered in his field work (1986: 225). He observes that what is denigrated
in the illiterate woman is backwardness, a trait also attributed to the
Turks, and one that should be concealed from "outsiders." The illit-
erate woman, then, stands for the tainting, lasting influence that Turks
exerted upon Greeks, or for Greece's failure to break with this part
of its past.
We have seen that the equally negative nineteenth-century image
of the superficially educated, vain, and frivolous woman, which co-
existed with the negative image of the illiterate woman, also symbolized
Greece's failed attempt to become "European," its resort to mimicry,
and its descent into parody. It is important to note that this negative
image of superficially educated women, like the image of uneducated
women, contains stereotypes also reported ethnographically. Some of
the qualities attributed to the nineteenth-century mondaines evoke
character defects like idleness, irresponsibility, and sexual inconti-
nence that Greek men (and also women) are reported to attribute to
Î¾Î-Î½ÎµÏ‚ (female foreigners or strangers; see Dubisch 1986a: 25; SaIa-
mone and Stanton 1986: 114; Zinovieff 1991: 212, 216, 218). These
defects also overlap with the negative stereotypes that Greek men
attach to Greek women and that Europeans attach to Mediterraneans
in general (Herzfeld 1987: 69). Finally, the nineteenth-century image
of the mondaine also readily brings to mind stereotypes of bourgeois
women exploited in the popular culture of the 1950s and 1960s,
especially in films and photographic romances but also in radio shows
and stories featured in women's magazines. Frivolous, selfish, con-
ceited, and vain, these women were portrayed as threatening their
good, hardworking, honest female subordinates, or rivals in love,
unless or until redeemed by the love of a good man or by the hardships
of life. Meanwhile, however, and notwithstanding the excesses stig-
matized in this negative stereotype, the image of bourgeois femininity
also provided an attractive model for women (Campbell and Sherrard
1968: 365-367; Bakalaki 1984: 154-157; Bakalaki 1989).
In the nineteenth century, women's moral duties and the values

meant to govern their behavior were most explicitly spelled out in the
teachings of domestic economy. The manuals prescribed obedience
to father and husband; loyalty to family; chastity, modesty, frugality,
industriousness, and self-sacrifice; perseverance in the struggle against
dirt, pollution, and disease; guarded behavior at all times (lest the
public image of male relatives be tainted); and the exercise of a be-
nevolent influence restraining men from excesses that might threaten
their prestige, health, or wealth. These same qualities define feminine
virtue in the local communities studied by ethnographers.
The approaches of Zygouras and Leondias, which lay within the
general framework of nineteenth-century domestic economy, attest
versions of domesticity and femininity that are ethnographically fa-
miliar. The skills and moral qualities prescribed by Zygouras for the
Î¿Î¹ÎºÎ¿Î´Î-ÏƒÏ€Î¿Î¹Î½Î± are reminiscent of those attached to the person of the
Î½Î¿Î¹ÎºÎ¿ÎºÏ…Ï•Î¬ by the Asia Minor refugees of the island Ammouliani stud-
ied by Salamone and Stanton (1986: 97Â—120). These authors consider
the Ammouliani Î½Î¿Î¹ÎºÎ¿ÎºÏ…Ï•Î¹ÏŒ (household) to be an institution that be-
longs to both the private and public spheres of life and that constitutes
a social context within which women's prestige and power are for-
malized. Ideally the Î½Î¿Î¹ÎºÎ¿ÎºÏ…Ï•Î¹ÏŒ is "a corporate, family-based, money-
making, self-sufficient enterprise" (1986: 100). Its social success is an
index of the success of the couple's partnership, which brings prestige
and power to both man and wife. Success of partnership and house-
hold requires that the woman should be an Î¿Î¹ÎºÎ¿Î½Î¿Î¼Î¿Î»ÏŒÎ³Î¿ ("econo-
mist") and that the man should be ÎµÏ•Î³Î±Ï„Î¹ÎºÏŒÏ‚ (industrious). The con-
cept of the Î½Î¿Î¹ÎºÎ¿ÎºÏ…Ï•Î¬ has both economic and existential dimensions,
and so does that of the Î¿Î¹ÎºÎ¿Î´Î-ÏƒÏ€Î¿Î¹Î½Î±, according to Zygouras. The
coincidence between the two concepts may be partly explained by the
fact that the ideal of the Î½Î¿Î¹ÎºÎ¿ÎºÏ…Ï•Î¬ has its roots in communities located
near Constantinople (the homeland of Zygouras) that were subject to
the City's economic and cultural influences. As early as the turn of
the century these communities were undergoing cultural changes of
the sort that did not begin to have an impact on rural Greece until
after the second World War (Salamone and Stanton 1986: 101). These
changes were related to increased exposure to "Western" ways.
The values of womanhood as envisioned by Leondias, as well as
her conceptualization of the Î¿Î¯ÎºÎ¿Ï‚, are even more reminiscent of eth-
nographic reports of contemporary Greek womanhood and domes-
ticity. This is because these qualities and the constructs associated with
them appear to be predicated, according to Greek ethnography, on
a strong public/private division, which has generally been considered
a particularly salient element of rural Greek culture (Dubisch 1986a:
10Â—11). The separateness of domestic space has been noted by almost
every ethnographer of Greece, as has women's identification with the

home. Moreover, this identification has provided the basis for inter-
pretations of rural Greek conjugality as husband-wife complemen-
tarity (see Papataxiarchis 1992: 55). Leondias explicitly advocates both
the primary identification of women with the home and the home's
contrastive distinction from the outside world. Having dedicated her-
self to the struggle for the "elevation of our sex," she exploits this
identification with the home as a source of empowerment for women.
Like Zygouras, she believes that the innate psychological qualities of
women and the skills involved in home management may be success-
fully applied outside the house as well, especially in select domains
and endeavors requiring characteristically feminine aptitudes and psy-
chological orientations. She believes, for example, that women's com-
passionate nature is an endowment that might be successfully placed
in the service of medicine.
What Leondias emphasizes most, however, are the fulfillment,
prestige, and power that women derive from motherhood and home
management. In this sense the discussions among ethnographers of
Greece concerning potential sources and manifestations of women's
power, authority, or prestige in the context of complementary con-
jugality may provide a particularly interesting perspective from which
to make sense of her views. Thus her emphasis on the home and
family as the sphere within which women are empowered readily
brings to mind Ernestine Friedl's analysis (1986) of the "reality" of
this sphere as well as of the powers women may enjoy within its bounds.
Moreover, Leondias's endorsement of women's identification with
home and family may also be interpreted as a strategy whereby women
achieve power, prestige, or spiritual importance by submitting to in-
stitutions that oppress them and cut them off from the outside word
(seeduBoulay 1974, 1986; Danforth 1983; Papataxiarchis 1992: 53).
Finally, Dubisch's suggestion (1986a: 33) that aspects of contemporary
women's discourses may represent muted models perhaps provides
another framework for interpreting the reluctance with which Leon-
dias suggests that women's domestic skills and natures may be prof-
itably applied in the (public) spheres of the professions and the arts.
The analytic validity of the public/private dichotomy for under-
standing gender relations crossculturally as well as in the Greek cul-
tural context has recently been repeatedly challenged (e.g., by Rosaldo
1980; Dubisch 1991; Loizos 8c Papataxiarchis 1991a). Leondias's em-
phasis on women's responsibility for homemaking, cooking, fighting
off pollution and dirt, and organizing the family's domestic social life
is reminiscent of Dubisch's description (1986b) of women as the me-
diators of contradictions. Women are charged with transforming nat-
ural products into edible food, with controlling pollution, with main-
taining the boundaries between home and the outside; furthermore,
they function as the "glue" that binds social units together. Finally,
Leondias's idealization of the home as haven evokes a particular aspect
of the articulation between public life and the home in contemporary
Greece discussed by Muriel Dimen (1986). The home, the site of
women's work, is also the site of social reproduction, the place where
men rest and have their "wounds" taken care of (by women) so that
they may reenter the public sphere of exploitation and competition.
According to Dimen, the fact that women nurture both compliant and
resistant attitudes in men is one of the reasons behind their ambiv-
alence about themselves. This ambivalence between pride and lone-
liness, strength and weakness, and between the experience of per-
forming tasks simultaneously priceless and thankless, also lurks in
Leondias's writings as well as in those of her contemporaries who
traced the paths of domestic feminism.
On a more general level, the mere fact that in the nineteenth
century the organization of the domestic sphere and the specifics of
women's involvement in it emerged as topics of public debate indicates
that women's domestic roles were recognized as having a public aspect
that transcended concerns regarding the reputations of men as fa-
thers, brothers, or husbands. This provides yet another perspective
from which to challenge ideas concerning the separateness and au-
tonomy of the two spheres as well as the complementarity between
men/public and women/domestic space. Moreover, it is apparent that
this debate did not concern only real women's actual practices but also
their metaphoric meanings as those are applied to other categories
of experience, specifically to categories concerning the shape and form
of Greek society itselfÂ—its past, present, and future, and its relation-
ship to "Europe" (see Herzfeld 1986).
From the perspective of these metaphoric meanings of wom-
anhood, it is not surprising that even embroidery, the most trivial
female endeavor, was simultaneously a symbol of women's subjuga-
tion, a source of anxiety, and an object of control. The dedication of
Greek women to needlework has been noted by several ethnographers
(Hirschon 1978: 82-84; Pavlides and Hesser 1986; Salamone and
Stanton 1986). Salamone and Stanton (1986: 107Â—113) discuss wom-
en's preparation of the Ï•Î¿Ï•Ï‡Î± (trousseau) as an important aspect of
young girls' socialization, and they also mention that needlepoint is
favorably contrasted to "going around in the streets." The positive
values associated with embroidery in contemporary Greece are rem-
iniscent of those attributed to it in the context of the nineteenth-
century discourse on the education of women, which appealed to
"European" example. Indeed, Hirschon's observation (1978: 84) that

embroidery signals a woman's dedication to home and family and is
a means of insuring that she does not stay idle or engage in harmful
activities like gossip, reveals an attitude toward needlework that sounds
very similar to that expressed in John Taylor's 1624 poem cited above.
However, it is not only the ethnographically reported moral val-
ues associated with the practice of needlework that are similar to those
attached to this craft in the nineteenth century, but also the aesthetic
values manifest in the persistent popularity of "European" techniques,
styles, and designs. The attempted revival of "Greek" needlecraft did
not seem to affect popular taste until recently. Women continued to
prefer "European" styles despite criticism that these represented "vul-
garity." The demand for "folk" styles remained limited to the emergent
tourist trade and an educated elite. For this second group, the prestige
of "folk" styles was largely due to the fact that these highlighted the
"non-folk" identity of the connoisseurs who went out of their way to
buy "folk" pieces from charity bazaars, have them commissioned, or
discover and collect them in remote places. "Folk" styles have become
popular only in the last two decades in the contexts of the diffusion
of folkloric discourse (Salamone and Stanton 1986: 113; Cowan 1988)
and of a general attitude of nostalgia manifest in the positive valuation
of objects or practices that evoke cultural "roots" (Pavlides and Hesser
1986; Salamone and Stanton 1986: 113; see also Herzfeld 1985: 151;
1992: 62, 231). In this context, too, the "traditional" owes its prestige
precisely to the fact that its appreciation and display signify a dis-
tancing from tradition and a release from its perceived confines.
Until recently, the popular ÎµÏ•Î³ÏŒÏ‡ÎµÎ¹Ï•Î± designs owed their appeal
to their connotations of "Europe" and "modernity." The French-
derived names used for the standard pieces are indicative. There is
the Â«ÏƒÎµÎ¼Î-Î½Â» (chemin, rectangle), the Â«ÎºÎ±Ï•Ï•Î-Â» (carrÃ©, square piece), the
Â«Î±Ï„Ï•Î±Î½Ï„Î-Ï‚Â» (a strip of lace sewn entre deux pieces of cloth), and crochet
pieces including those produced by a particular technique known as
Â«Ï†Ï•Î¹Î²Î¿Î»Î¹Ï„Î-Â» (frivolitÃ©), all utilizing patterns provided by women's maga-
zines or distributed by the DMC thread manufacturers. They were
placed over furniture, but they also highlighted and/or framed pre-
cious modern appliances like the refrigerator, the television set, the
stereo, or even the mixer.7
Floral compositions were usually chosen for sofa cushions;
fringed velvet with an embroidery over it covered the rarely used
formal dining table; and the large doll on the double bed (Hirschon
1981: 81Â—82) often rested on lace-covered pillows. Finally, there were
framed pictorial embroideries hung on the walls: "European" land-
scapes, all green, or snowy white with one or more chalets; tearful
clowns; portraits of various sorts; and, perhaps the oldest and most
popular, a marquise dressed in a long, puffy, blue and pink dress,
holding a parasol in one hand and a leash tied to a tiny dog in the
other. I have vivid childhood memories of women working on such
patterns in my neighborhood in Thessaloniki in the late 1950s and
1960s; of such handmade works proudly displayed in village homes;
of women's and young girls' pleasure in pronouncing the foreign
names of ÎµÏ•Î³ÏŒÏ‡ÎµÎ¹Ï•Î± materials, styles, types, and patterns; of how
fondly they admired magazine pictures featuring decorative hand-
made pieces adorning modern living room furnishings or nicely set
dining room tables. As a child I admired all that myself, and I was
always puzzled by the disapproval of my parents and their educated,
middle-class friends, who found these things rather vulgar manifes-
tations of Ï‡Ï‰Ï•Î¹Î¬Ï„Î¹ÎºÎ± Î³Î¿Ï•ÏƒÏ„Î± ("village tastes").
Possible historical connections, analogies and implications
The preceding analysis has suggested that the ideas, attitudes,
practices, and policies propagated by those concerned with women's
education and women's role in family and society in the nineteenth
century resonate with aspects of contemporary, gender-related Greek
culture as it is documented ethnographically. The former sounds fa-
miliar from the point of view of the latter, and analytical constructs
used in making sense of the latter seem to be applicable for inter-
preting the former. Is it reasonable to posit a historical relation be-
tween the two? If so, what might that relation be?
Given the general tendency of ethnographers to focus on the
synchronic study of small communities, it is not surprising that ques-
tions concerning the time depth of various practices have not been
emphasized. In this context, Herzfeld's observation (1986) that nine-
teenth-century Hellenist ideology as expressed by G. G. Pappado-
poulos evokes ethnographically described stereotypes of womanhood
deserves special attention. He considers the image of women as help-
mates of men and mediators in their conflicts as portrayed by Pap-
padopoulos to represent "an expansion to the national scale of the
woman as a mediator in quarrels and disputes, already well known
from the ethnographic literature" (1986: 226-227). In other words,
he suggests that the ideology of national masculine extroversion had
absorbed and integrated rural attitudes equivalent to those reported
ethnographically. Herzfeld's interpretation of the apparent conver-
gence between the two discourses is essentially historical; however, his
analysis implicitly posits a problematic isomorphism between nine-
teenth-century rural attitudes and those encountered by enthnogra-
phers working in Greece after the 1960s.
Eleni Varika offers a similar analysis when she speaks of the

appropriation of "traditional" values by the elite. She observes (1987:
35-38) that the exclusion of women of all social levels from the public
sphere during the first decades following the establishment of the
Greek state was the only aspect of the emerging social reality that
overlapped with "traditional" culture. She argues that this exclusion
functioned as "a reassuring tie with the past," one that performed a
stabilizing role in mediating "the abyss" separating the values of the
people from those of the elite (1987: 38-39). It also enabled the
emergent dominant class to assume the role of guardians of "tradi-
tion."
The above interpretations are plausible in light of the well-doc-
umented processes by which nineteenth-century Greek nationalist dis-
course evoked the folkloric tradition (and in the process actually con-
structed it) in order to provide evidence of continuity between ancient
and modern Greece. This evidence was intended as a response to
challenges concerning the European status and identity of the Greek
people as well as of the new state (Kyriakidou-Nestoros 1978; Herzfeld
1982; Skopetea 1988). That "rural people furnished the materials for
the symbolic construction of Greekness" (Herzfeld 1986: 216) is well
established. However, one should be careful about assumptions con-
cerning the extent to which notions concerning womanhood, and
domesticity in particular, were in fact included in these materials.
Herzfeld himself observes that female roles were more or less outside
the orbit of the folklorists' interests, because, since women were as-
signed to the domestic sphere, their connection with the glorious past
could not be rendered readily self-evident (1986: 223). In other words,
folklorists generally assumed that women's place was in the home,
and left it at that. Moreover, the appeal to folklore could by no means
fill the vacuum between the nationalist visions of past Greece and
future Greece (see Skopetea 1988: 190), i.e., that appeal could not
provide a model for the present, because filling this vacuum involved,
by definition, the construction of a new savoir-faire.
Herzfeld (1987) has emphasized the fact that many features of
modern Greek culture can be traced to Enlightenment and post-
Enlightenment ideological constructions that have also served as the
foundations of Western discourses including that of anthropology
itself. However, his analysis of gender stereotypes (1986) perhaps
underestimates the extent to which the attempts to create such a new
savoir-faire exploited "European" examples. Thus it is important to
note that behind the rationale for women's education advanced by
Pappadopoulos lies a notion of womanhood as a category that is con-
ceptualized in terms of its relations to categories other than wom-
anhood itself. This notion had been prevalent in Western European
societies at least since the time of the Enlightenment and had been
used as a basis for evaluations concerning the desirability of women's
education, or of women's participation in the public sphere, generally
in terms of such participation's effect on other social categoriesÂ—men,
children, society, or the nation (Bloch & Bloch 1980). Similarly, West-
ern missionaries who operated Christian schools for girls as well as
for boys in the Ottoman Empire aimed to educate specific pupils as
a means of realizing the more general task of "civilizing" the Orient
(Skopetea 1992: 35-37). Finally, we should note that the idea that
women are by nature equipped to soften conflicts and rivalries between
men, families, classes, or races through charity, religious activity, or
just through their calming influence was a fundamental value of do-
mestic feminism on both sides of the Atlantic (Sklar 1973). From this
perspective, it is precisely the "European" overtones of the ideology
endorsed by Pappadopoulos that make the similarity between his state-
ments and ethnograhic descriptions "truly remarkable" (cf. Herzfeld
1986: 226).
Recently P. Sant Cassia with C. Bada (1992) have also addressed
the relationship between what ethnographers consider rural Greek
culture and the ways of the urban dominant class that emerged in the
early nineteenth century. They contend that many aspects of Greek
culture that have been assumed to be rural in origin have actually
spread to the countryside from the city. The material presented in
this paper supports their hypothesis. Clearly the clues that the edu-
cated, highly ideological nineteenth-century discourse may provide
regarding its own reception or application are very limited; their
reliability is obviously tenuous. However, we should not underestimate
the fact that education, the object of this discourse, is an institution
that by definition plays a crucial role in mediating contacts between
different segments of society. In this sense it is legitimate to expect
that, if nothing else, the employment of urban educated teachers in
different parts of the countryside contributed to people's exposure
to the ideals of womanhood and femininity endorsed by the educated
class.
Although the interpretation offered by Sant Cassia posits a flow
of gender-related ideas and behavior from the emerging city to the
country, it represents a tendency also shared by Herzfeld (1986) and
Varika (1987) to examine the emergence of the constitutive elements
of a bourgeois life style solely in terms of indigenous social devel-
opments. In addition, Sant Cassia's analysis also rests on questionable
assumptions regarding temporality in that he employs late nineteenth-
and twentieth-century data on rural society and culture to interpret
developments that had occurred earlier in the cities.
An alternative to this approach would be to trace the elements
of ethnographically reported gender-related culture to the nine-

teenth-century discourse of the educated elite and in turn to actual
European practices and ideas, or perceptions thereof. I believe that,
from the perspective of an interest in the history of rural Greek
culture, this would yield interesting results. However, because of its
magnitude, such a project might easily turn into a quest for origins.
As such it would present predictable problems concerning levels of
abstraction and issues of cultural specificity. To the extent that it
emphasized abstract commonalities among historically or culturally
specific discourses or practices, it would preclude comprehension of
their specificity. Moreover, to the extent that it presented members
of the nineteenth-century educated elite or villagers as passive links
in a chain of "trait diffusion," it would undoubtedly render them
voiceless (cf. Herzfeld 1985: xi; Vitti 1991: 94). Thus although the
object of such an attempt would be to provide evidence for a possible
movement of cultural elements in a direction opposite to that posited
by Hoffman (1976; also see Hoffman etal. 1974), it would suffer from
the flaws of survivalist thinking and the conflation between structur-
alist and historical analysis, which Herzfeld (1987: 56-57, 59-64) ap-
propriately finds hard to excuse in Hoffman's work.
The idea of men's extroversion and women's introversion is so
old that, if one were to look, one would probably find abstract ex-
pressions or variants of it almost everywhere, at least in the West.
These would not be specific to any place. However, this does not
necessarily mean that the solution to problems of cultural specificity
lies in a methodological and theoretical particularism of the sort that
has characterized ethnographic studies of Greek communities (see
Herzfeld 1986: 215; 1987: 92). These studies all too easily disregard
the fact that ideas derived from field work in particular settings may
have a wider application. More importantly, the fact that concepts
used to describe people's circumstances on a local level have in fact
been used to make sense of phenomena on a larger scale is also often
not taken into account. For example, ethnographers of Greece who
have argued that "the only strategy accessible to women is the man-
agement of their subordination" (Papataxiarchis 1992: 53) have not
paid proper attention to the fact that both Freud and Simone de
Beauvoir have argued that women's self-realization presupposes ac-
ceptance of their subordination and that this acceptance constitutes
an integral aspect of femininity. This does not necessarily make the
analyses of Greek gender relations more faithful to the culturally
specific experience of the people whom these ethnographers have
encountered in field work. The questions posed by the material pre-
sented in this paper refer directly to the culturally specific ways in
which nineteenth- and twentieth-century Greeks have experienced
and displayed their own cultural specificity. For if we turn away from
a search for historical connections between educated nineteenth-cen-
tury discourses and ethnographically reported contemporary ones,
and posit a relation of analogy between the two instead, this would
primarily refer to perceptions and situational constructions of be-
longing, separateness, or specificity vis-Ã -vis "Europe."
Nineteenth-century intellectuals interested in women's education
spoke explicitly of Greece's integration into Europe, and mediated
"European" ways of thinking and living that were considered appro-
priate for emulation. The Greeks spoke as if they and Europeans lived
"in the same world" (cf. Danforth 1989), at least to some important
degree, and as if this degree could be increased. Regardless of the
distance or proximity that they perceived between "Greece" and "Eu-
rope," they spoke as if both were parts of the same world, if only by
virtue of the gap between them. On the basis of the historically doc-
umented political and economic connections between Greece and
Western Europe, and of the cultural hegemony of Europe over the
East in general, this orientation may be construed as either more-or-
less realistic or more-or-less illusory. Regardless of its realism, however,
it involves not just recognition of the boundaries between self (Greece)
and other (the universe of "Europe") but also a blurring of those
boundaries, a blurring perhaps more explicit on the part of optimists
and less so on the part of pessimists. According to Herzfeld's analyses
(1982; 1987), we might consider this blurring of boundaries to be an
expression solely of that aspect of Greek dÃ¹emia identified with Hel-
lenism. However, keeping in mind what Herzfeld himself recognizes
(1987: 112), i.e., that the nineteenth-century elite reproduced inter-
nally the domination that it both exploited and resisted externally,
even if we accept the discreteness of a Hellenist discourse, we should
emphasize its hegemony rather than its mere opposition to a Romeic
way. Moreover, if we identified the latter at least partially with the
demoticist movement of the late nineteenth century, to conceptualize
it as an introverted stance vis-Ã -vis "Europe" would be both abstract
and misleading insofar as this movement also appealed to European
ideas and modelsÂ—if only to affirm Greece's difference. After all, if
we recognize that the nineteenth-century educated elite did not pas-
sively accept foreign ideas (as its members often accused each other
of doing) but used these ideas to conceptualize and confront problems
concerning the physiognomy of Greek society (Vitti 1991: 94; see also
Herzfeld 1987: 109-110), it is reasonable to expect that according to
their use, but also because of their hegemony, these same ideas might
generate a variety of different or even conflicting conceptualizations
of the problems at hand.
I suggest that the "European" orientation of the nineteenth-
century educated elite may provide a vantage point from which to

reexamine contemporary constructs regarding self/other distinctions
or conceptions of specificity. As anthropologists tend to do generally,
ethnographers of Greece have emphasized the cultural specificity of
their sites of field work and the otherness of the people they study
(see Herzfeld 1987: 92). Moreover, they have generally imputed clear
self/other distinctions to them. Herzfeld (most recently 1992) has ex-
amined this self/other opposition in depth, focusing on its use and
emphasizing its segmentary and situational character. Although his
analysis exposes the polysÃ©mie complexities of the distinction, it also
affirms the structural discreteness of its two components, hence also
the distinctiveness of the introverted and extroverted perspectives on
the self.
On the analogy of the perspective of nineteenth-century parti-
cipants in the discourse on women's education, we might consider the
possibility that the people studied by ethnographers also believe that
in certain respects they live in the same world as "Europeans" do; that
they see themselves as simultaneously different from and similar to
those "others"; that they employ strategies aimed at realizing "Euro-
pean" fantasies; that even their most introverted self-perceptions en-
tail what they consciously or unconsciously construe as a "European"
gaze upon themselves. For example, the analogy between the elements
making up the nineteenth-century stereotype of the mondaine and the
defects that rural women attribute to foreign ones reveals the complex
symbolic meaning of the latter. From this point of view, the stigmas
attached to Î¾Î-Î½ÎµÏ‚ appear to be more than manifestations of a boundary-
maintaining perspective that emphasizes the contrast between the "in-
side" and the "outside"; rather, they appear as a complex and am-
bivalent meaning produced by a discourse that is itself at least partially
constituted by elements deriving from the "outside" world, which it
then renders morally suspect. In this sense the stigma of questionable
sexual morality may not refer to a woman's foreignness itself, or to
the models that are imagined to reign in women's world, but to per-
sonal failings that are all the more notable and condemnable precisely
because the woman displaying them is thought to belong to a "su-
perior" world. In other words, Î¾Î-Î½ÎµÏ‚ may be stigmatized not only as
outsiders but also as impostors.8 More generally, the fact that "Euro-
pean" identity, real or metaphoric, often attracts responses of irony
or exclusion in Greece (see Herzfeld 1986: 222; 1987: 163) does not
necessarily undermine such identity's valuation as superior or as a
representation of dominance.9
Ethnographers have treated Greek women's attitude toward
ÎµÏ•Î³ÏŒÏ‡ÎµÎ¹Ï•Î±, like their attitude toward Î¾Î-Î½ÎµÏ‚, as a particularly "native"
practice or attitude. However, the "natives" themselves seem to value

ÎµÏ•Î³ÏŒÏ‡ÎµÎ¹Ï•Î± as a means of approximating "European" standards of
femininity and/or aesthetics. Salamone and Stanton note (1986: 114)
that among the reasons why Ammouliani women disapprove of Ger-
man women is that the latter do not produce any handicrafts. While
this may be so, it is also true that the most prestigious ÎµÏ•Î³ÏŒÏ‡ÎµÎ¹Ï•Î±
magazines in Greece are the European ones, German included, and
the Greek journals that reprint their material. The comments by Par-
ren on the useless effort and expense going into embroidered slippers
in the nineteenth century rather than into "Greek" handicrafts may
provide a perspective from which to reconsider the meaning of
ÎµÏ•Î³ÏŒÏ‡ÎµÎ¹Ï•Î± for contemporary Greek women. These comments may
also have some bearing on Friedl's interpretation of the meaning of
women's footwear (1962: 5) and Herzfeld's commentary on that in-
terpretation (1986: 228). While the habit of wearing slippers almost
all the time may be indicate a structural division between a private
and a public domain and may signify women's special identification
with the former, the connotations of slippers may be far richer and
more complex in the eyes of those who wear them.
As for nineteenth-century educated Greeks, perceptions of "Eu-
ropean" perspectivesÂ—of "European" ways of doing things and of
"European" ways of looking at GreeksÂ—function as a grid in terms
of which contemporary Greeks recognize and represent themselves
and their world. As an unattainable ideal (see Herzfeld 1987: 47),
identification with "Europe" may generate both pride and humiliation.
But the pride generated by an emphasis on difference may also result
from the internalization of a "European" fascination with the exotic.
Although the way in which perceptions of "European" perspectives
are used and exploited in the negotiation of meaning depends upon
context, these perceptions are better conceptualized as internalized
representations than as parts of a cultural idiom appropriate only for
representing the self favorably to "outsiders." In this sense, the stereo-
types that Greeks attach to themselves cannot be considered "unex-
purgated" (cf. Herzfeld 1985: 278, note 5).
A personal anecdote may serve as further illustration. In the
little plays we staged at my primary school more than thirty years ago,
the most prestigious female role was that of "Greece," portrayed as
wearing a blue and white robe and bound in chains. The criteria for
getting the part were good grades and blondness. However, this fe-
licitous combination was not always available. Recently I asked people
about their primary school recollections of "Greece." They seem to
agree with mine. One woman told me that in her school on a Cycladic
island none of the good students was blonde enough for the part, so
the teacher dyed the hair of the one who was next best, the redheaded
woman with whom I was talking. AU the more so because it was part
of a school performance, the portrayal of "Greece" as a blonde may
be seen as an expression of a Hellenist stance emphasizing the Aryan
nature of Greeks. However, this does not mean that people have failed
to internalize this image (and blondness in general) as a value. Cer-
tainly, when women choose to dye their hair blondeÂ—in recent years
a popular phenomenon, and not just in the citiesÂ—their choice con-
cerns not merely self-representation but also self-recognition as a re-
fraction of the gaze of the "other."
As in the nineteenth century, the current cultural hegemony of
"Europe" may provide clues for understanding the significance of
perceptions of the self that incorporate perceptions of the perspective
of the "other" or, conversely (and better), self-perceptions of "others"
incorporating the perceived perspective of the "One." In Greece,
knowledge about "Europe" is certainly a source of prestige, especially
for men, who like to flaunt their experiences abroad or their awareness
of foreign politics. In this sense, the feelings of liberation from the
constraints of "traditional" womanhood, feelings that women derive
from going to the ÎºÎ±Ï†ÎµÏ„ÎµÏ•Î¯Î±, may be due not only to the fact that
they socialize there in public with other women and with men but that
implicitly they also appear to be up-to-date concerning the ways in
which things are done "elsewhere" (cf. Cowan 1992).
The tendency to see the self through the gaze of a dominant
"other" is far from being culturally specific to Greece; it is an element
of the "mutedness" that accompanies hegemonic discourse (Ardener
1975). However, if we consider Greek culture from this perspective,
we will find that this tendency manifests itself in interesting waysÂ—in
politics, aesthetics, ethics, and/or a poetics of make-believe in which
behavior, objects, and experiences are recognized as the effect of
appearance or pretense regardless of their positive or negative value.
A currently popular verbal expression is indicative: the term Î¼Î±ÏŠÎ¼Î¿Ï•
(monkey) is employed to refer to objects, behavior, or even personal
identities that are "not real." They may be condemned if they are
meant or employed to deceive, or they may looked down upon as
lesser versions of the "real" thing. But they may also be valued as
approximations of "real things" that are inaccessible. ÎœÎ±ÏŠÎ¼Î¿Ï•Î´ÎµÏ‚ may
serve legitimate aspirations of a "European" lifestyle. There are
Î¼Î±ÏŠÎ¼Î¿Ï• clothes, manufactured locally or imported from Hong Kong
but bearing labels with the names of prestigious international firms.
There are Î¼Î±ÏŠÎ¼Î¿Ï• economic transactions, Î¼Î±ÏŠÎ¼Î¿Ï• materials used in
house construction and decoration, Î¼Î±ÏŠÎ¼Î¿Ï• official documentsÂ—and,
according to a newspaper report of last year, the police arrested a pet
shop owner in Athens for selling Î¼Î±ÏŠÎ¼Î¿Ï• birds: he had dyed their
feathers and had advertised them as belonging to a rare, exotic species.
People themselves may be Î¼Î±ÏŠÎ¼Î¿Ï•Î´ÎµÏ‚ when they pretend to act in
capacities that they cannot legitimately claim. But they are also said
to "play-act" at various identities regardless of whether these are real.
A real doctor who emphasizes his professional identity may provoke
the (not necessarily hostile) comment that Â«Ï„Î¿ Ï€Î±Î¯Î¶ÎµÎ¹ Î³Î¹Î±Ï„Ï•ÏŒÏ‚Â» (he is
play-acting at being a doctor). Similarly, a person of modest means
who lives above his or her station or shows excessive generosity may
be said to be play-acting at being rich.
These expressions acknowledge the importance of the perspec-
tive of a dominant other upon the world and the self. They indicate
a way of looking at the world that blurs the boundaries between reality,
on the one hand, and imitation, on the otherÂ—a way analogous to
that which characterized the discourse of the nineteenth-century ed-
ucated elite. In the area of gender relations, but also more broadly
in both nineteenth- and twentieth-century Greece, the experience of
the cultural self has entailed perceptions of the experience of the
cultural other.
UNIVERSITY OF THE AEGEAN
NOTES
Acknowledgments. An earlier version of this paper was presented at the seminar on

history and anthropology of the Department of Anthropology, University of the Ae-
gean, during the spring of 1992. I thank the members of the seminar, and especially
Efi Avdela and Rika Benveniste, for their comments, suggestions, encouragement, and
overall support. Also, I thank the anonymous reviewers of JMGS for their suggestions.
1 The most important of these institutions were operated by the Î¦Î¹Î»ÎµÎºÏ€Î±Î¹Î´ÎµÏ…Ï„Î¹ÎºÎ®
Î•Ï„Î±Î¹Ï•ÎµÎ¯Î±, an organization established in 1836 that provided both primary and secondary
education. Starting in 1842, prospective teachers had to attend one of the schools
operated by this organization. The history and structure of women's education in the
nineteenth century are described and analyzed thoroughly by Ziogou-Karastergiou
(1986). For an introduction to the history of education in Greece and an anthology of
relevant documents see Dimaras (1983-84). For archival materials concerning Greek
secondary girls' schools operating in the Ottoman Empire see Xiradaki (1972). For a
review of Greek historiography on education see Dimaras (1988).
2 After the 1850s, the Greek literature on women's education included increasingly
frequent references to European texts exploring the medical and biological bases for
women's limited tolerance of strenuous educational activities (Fournaraki 1987b: 32,
53). For the history of this literature in eighteenth- and nineteenth-century Western
Europe see Jordanova (1986; 1989). The texts available in Greek include translations
of Ascher-Leoben's article "On the Soul of the Girl" (1880), of a lecture "on the Up-
bringing of Girls from the Medical Point of View" (1884), delivered by the English
doctor T. Clustone at the Philosophical Academy of Edinburgh, and of an article by
J. M. Guyau (1901) on the implications of heredity for the education of women (Guyau
1987: 483-486). Finally, there were treatises, authored by Greeks, that employed med-
ical or physiological approaches to the problems of women's natureÂ—for example,
Emmanuel (1875)Â—also see Varika (1987: 70). By the turn of the century, bio-psycho-
logical answers to questions concerning the role women were quite popular; thus in a
conference on education in 1904 the educator Aristotelis Kourtidis cited numerous
European authorities on the matter, including Herbert Spencer, who had blamed school-
induced exhaustion in women for infant mortality (1987: 530 [1904]).
* The first domestic economy manual that circulated in Greece and was addressed
to women was Î‰ Ï€ÎµÏ•Î¯ Î¿Î¹ÎºÎ¹Î±ÎºÎ®Ï‚ Î¿Î¹ÎºÎ¿Î½Î¿Î¼Î¯Î±Ï‚ Ï€Ï•Î±Î³Î¼Î±Ï„ÎµÎ¯Î±, which was translated from the
French and published in 1871. At that time the director of the Arsakion school of the
Filekpedeftiki Eteria, Amenais Kavaniari, was teaching domestic economy in French using
a book that she had written herself in French and that was later translated into Greek.
Thereafter, several domestic economy texts, most of which were published in Con-
stantinople, were available in Greece. Xenophon D. Zygouras, professor of the Emboriki
SchoU in Constantinople and later teacher in the ArsÃ¡kion in Athens, as well as Sappho
Leondias, then director of a prestigious girls' school in Constantinople, wrote on the
subject. Another domestic economy book, by Aglaia Preveziotou, was published in
Constantinople in 1892. Articles on various (mostly practical) aspects of domestic econ-
omy became increasingly common in the Greek press in the second half of the nineteenth
century. For a more detailed examination of nineteenth-century domestic economy and
its teachings in Greece see Bakalaki and Elegmitou (1987: 83-144).
4 Zygouras (1875: 38; 1878: 13; 1887: 8) believed that in cultivating political econ-
omy at the expense of domestic economy, Adam Smith and the "Europeans" generally
contributed to the distortion of domestic economy, i.e., its focus on practical advice for
the management of the home. However, he absolved Benjamin Franklin, the French
economists MÃ©ziÃ¨res (author of L Ã‰conomie ou remÃ¨de au paupÃ©risme [ 1835]) and Levasseur,
and the Englishmen Wayland and Chesterfield (1875: 32, 61, 136, 155-165, 162).
Although he did not mention Samuel Smiles's Self-help ( 1859) in his domestic economy
books, he was familiar with this work, and it is obvious that it was a source of inspiration
(Zygouras 1889). Zygouras also referred to authors of domestic economy manuals like
E. Hyppeau and the American C. Beecher, whose emphasis on the economic aspects
of home management he found insufficient (1875: 31, 39-40). Finally, he mentioned
Louise d'Alg's La Science de la vie as an example of French women's reluctance to pursue
their emancipation in contrast to Americans, who fight for it publicly "by firey rhetoric"
(1875: 114). Leondias (1889: Î´) did not refer to specific texts, but informed her readers
that she had consulted French and German works, while Preveziotou (1892: y-Î´) used
French and English ones (see Bakalaki and Elegmitou 1987: 101-103, 107, 112, 127).
5 For a more detailed discussion of the "feminine arts" in nineteenth-century girls'
schools, see Bakalaki and Elegmitou (1987: 33-82).
6 For evidence of the currency of this idea, see Loizos and Papataxiarchis (1991a,
1991b), and Papataxiarchis (1991).
7 Describing Cretan coffee shops in the early 1980s, Herzfeld (1985: 149) notes
that "a hand-embroidered cloth of the type self-consciously described as 'Cretan
embroidery' " is placed over the television set.
8 Discussing perceptions of "aristocrats," Herzfeld notes (1992: 61) that the prev-
aient negative stereotypes stigmatize the pretense of aristocracy rather than aristocracy
itself. Affectation is thus condemned as an impostor's trait while "simplicity" distin-
guishes a "true" aristocrat. Similarly, the stereotype of the "dirty tourist" does not
necessarily stigmatize the values thought to prevail in the tourist's society of origin, but
rather his or her own personal failure to take advantage of the "opportunities" that
this society is thought to offer.
9 The popular pun Î•Ï…Ï•Ï‰Ï€Î-Î¿Ï‚ (Î•Ï…Ï•Ï‰- [meaning Euro-, but also evocative of ÎµÏ•Ï•Î¿Ï‚
= width] + Ï€Î-Î¿Ï‚ = penis) plays both with the idea of the lack of sexual control attributed
by Europeans to Greeks and by Greek men to women (Herzfeld 1987: 64) and with
male "active" sexuality as a metaphor for all sorts of domination.
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Î¿Ï…Î½ÎµÎ¯Î´Î·ÏƒÎ·Ï‚ ÏƒÏ„Î·Î½ Î•Î»Î»Î¬Î´Î±, 1833-1907. Athens: Idrima Erevnas ke PedÃ-as tis
EmborikÃ-s TrÃ¡pezas tis EllÃ¡dos.
Vitti, Mario
1991 H Î¹Î´ÎµÎ¿Î»Î¿Î³Î¹ÎºÎ® Î»ÎµÎ¹Ï„Î¿Ï…Ï•Î³Î¯Î± Ï„Î·Ï‚ ÎµÎ»Î»Î·Î½Î¹ÎºÎ®Ï‚ Î·Î¸Î¿Î³Ï•Î±Ï†Î¯Î±Ï‚. Athens: Kedros.
Wolf, Eric Robert
1982 Europe and the People without History. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Xiradaki, Koula
1972 ÎšÎ¿Ï•Î»Î± ÎžÎ·Ï•Î±Î´Î¬ÎºÎ·, Î‘Ï€ÏŒ Ï„Î¿ Î±Ï•Ï‡ÎµÎ¯Î¿ Ï„Î¿Ï… Î•Î»ÎµÎ³ÎºÏ„Î¹ÎºÎ¿Ï• Î£Ï…Î½ÎµÎ´Ï•Î¯Î¿Ï…:
Î Î±Ï•Î¸ÎµÎ½Î±Î³Ï‰Î³ÎµÎ¯Î± ÎºÎ±Î¹ Î´Î±ÏƒÎºÎ¬Î»ÎµÏ‚ Ï„Î¿Ï… Ï…Ï€ÏŒÎ´Î¿Ï…Î»Î¿Ï… ÎµÎ»Î»Î·Î½Î¹ÏƒÎ¼Î¿Ï•. Athens.
Zinovieff, Sofka
1991 "Hunters and the Hunted: Kamaki and the Ambiguities of Sexual PrÃ©dation
in a Greek Town." In Contested Identities: Gender and Kinship in Modern Greece,
edited by Evthymios Papataxiarchis and Theodoros Paradellis, 203-220.
Princeton, Newjersey: Princeton University Press.
Ziogou-Karastergiou, Sidiroula
1986 Î£Î¹Î´Î·Ï•Î¿Ï•Î»Î± Î–Î¹ÏŽÎ³Î¿Ï…-ÎšÎ±Ï•Î±ÏƒÏ„ÎµÏ•Î³Î¯Î¿Ï…, HÎ¼Î-ÏƒÎ· ÎµÎºÏ€Î±Î¯Î´ÎµÏ…ÏƒÎ· Ï„Ï‰Î½ ÎºÎ¿Ï•Î¹Ï„ÏƒÎ¹ÏŽÎ½ ÏƒÏ„Î·Î½
Î•Î»Î»Î¬Î´Î± (1830-1893). Athens: IstorikÃ³ ArhÃ-o EllinikÃ-s NeolÃ©as, YenikÃ- Gram-
matÃ-a NÃ©as YeniÃ¡s.
Zondanos, Panayotis
1987 Î Î±Î½Î±Î³Î¹ÏŽÏ„Î·Ï‚ Î–Ï‰Î½Ï„Î±Î½ÏŒÏ‚, Â«Î ÎµÏ•Î¯ Î±Î½Î±Ï„Ï•Î¿Ï†Î®Ï‚ Ï„ÏŽÎ½ ÎºÎ¿Ï•Î±Î¿Î¯Ï‰Î½ ÎºÎ±Î¯ Ï„Î®Ï‚ Î´Î·Î¼Î¿ÏƒÎ¯Î¿Ï…
ÎµÎºÏ€Î±Î¹Î´ÎµÏ•ÏƒÎµÏ‰Ï‚ Ï„ÏŽÎ½ Î±Ï•Ï•Î-Î½Ï‰Î½.Â» In Î•ÎºÏ€Î±Î¯Î´ÎµÏ…ÏƒÎ· ÎºÎ±Î¹ Î±Î³Ï‰Î³Î® Ï„Ï‰Î½ ÎºÎ¿Ï•Î¹Ï„ÏƒÎ¹ÏŽÎ½:
ÎµÎ›Î›Î·Î½Î¹ÎºÎ¿Î¯ Ï€Ï•Î¿Î²Î»Î·Î¼Î±Ï„Î¹ÏƒÎ¼Î¿Î¯ (1830Â—1910): Î-Î½Î± Î±Î½Î¸Î¿Î»ÏŒÎ³Î¹Î¿, edited by Eleni
Fournaraki, 79-97. Athens: IstorikÃ³ ArhÃ-o EllinikÃ-s NeolÃ©as, YenikÃ- Gram-
matÃ-a NÃ©as YeniÃ¡s. (First published in 1836.)
Zygouras, Xenophon D.
1875 ÎžÎµÎ½Î¿Ï†ÏŽÎ½ O. Î–Ï•Î³Î¿Ï…Ï•Î±Ï‚, 'Î•Î»Î»Î·Î½Î¹ÎºÎ® Î¿Î¹ÎºÎ¹Î±ÎºÎ® Î¿Î¹ÎºÎ¿Î½Î¿Î¼Î¯Î±. Î˜ÎµÏ‰Ï•Î·Ï„Î¹ÎºÎ® ÎºÎ±Î¯
Ï€Ï•Î±ÎºÏ„Î¹ÎºÎ®. (Î£Ï…Î½Ï„Î±Ï‡Î¸ÎµÎ¯ÏƒÎ± Ï€Ï•Î¿Ï‚ ÎºÏ•Î®ÏƒÎ¹Î½ Ï„ÏŽÎ½ Î±Ï€Î±Î½Ï„Î±Ï‡Î¿Ï• 'Î•Î»Î»Î·Î½Î¹ÎºÏŽÎ½
Ï€Î±Ï•Î¸ÎµÎ½Î±Î³Ï‰Î³ÎµÎ¯Ï‰Î½.) Constantinople.
1878 'Î•Ï€Î¹Ï„Î¿Î¼Î® Î¿Î¯ÎºÎ±ÎºÏ€Î®Ï‚ Î¿Î¹ÎºÎ¿Î½Î¿Î¼Î¯Î±Ï‚. (Î£Ï…Î½Ï„Î±Ï‡Î¸ÎµÎ¯ÏƒÎ± Ï€Ï•Î¿Ï‚ Ï‡Ï•Î®ÏƒÎ¹Î½ Ï„ÏŽÎ½ Î´Î·Î¼Î¿Ï„Î¹ÎºÏŽÎ½

ÏƒÏ‡Î¿Î»ÏŽÎ½ Ï„ÏŽÎ½ ÎºÎ¿Ï•Î±ÏƒÎ¹ÏŽÎ½ ÎºÎ±Î¯ Ï„ÏŽÎ½ Ï€Î±Ï•Î¸ÎµÎ½Î±Î³Ï‰Î³ÎµÎ¯Ï‰Î½.) Constantinople.
1882 Î‰ Ï•Î±Ï€Ï„Î¹ÎºÎ®, ÎºÎ¿Ï€Ï„Î¹ÎºÎ®, Ï€Î»ÎµÎºÏ„Î¹ÎºÎ® ÎºÎ±Î¯ Ï€Î¿Î¹ÎºÎ¹Î»Ï„Î¹ÎºÎ· Î¼ÎµÏ„Î¬ 40 Î¿Ï‡Î·Î¼Î¬Ï„Ï‰Î½. (Î Ï•Î¿Ï‚
Ï‡Ï•Î®ÏƒÎ¹Î½ Ï„ÏŽÎ½ Ï€Î±Ï•Î¸ÎµÎ½Î±Î³Ï‰Î³ÎµÎ¯Ï‰Î½ ÎºÎ±Î¯ Ï„ÏŽÎ½ Î´Î·Î¼Î¿Ï„Î¹ÎºÏŽÎ½ ÏƒÏ‡Î¿Î»ÏŽÎ½ Ï„ÏŽÎ½ ÎºÎ¿Ï•Î±Î¿Î¯Ï‰Î½.)
Athens: VivliothÃ-ki tu YinekÃ-u FÃ-lu.
1887 ÎŸÎ¹ÎºÎ¹Î±ÎºÎ® Î¿Î¹ÎºÎ¿Î½Î¿Î¼Î¯Î±. Athens: VivliothÃ-ki tu ellinikÃº lau (12).
1889 ÎŒ Ï€Ï•Î±ÎºÏ„Î¹ÎºÏŒÏ‚ Î²Î¯Î¿Ï‚. Athens: VivliothÃ-ki tu ellinikÃº laÃº (6).

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*HQGHU5HODWHG'LVFRXUVHVDQG5HSUHVHQWDWLRQVRI

Journal of Modern Greek Studies, Volume 12, Number 1, May 1994,

For additional information about this article

The nineteenth-century discourse on women's education in Greece was a

The gradual enlargement of the scope of anthropology since the 1960s

making it visible is often considered proof of the anthropologist's

many levels. The possibility that they may be analytically integrated

Womanhood and domesticity in the nineteenth-century Greek discourse on

The general context. From the time of the establishment of the

debates, as well as the practices associated with women's education,

guished the lifestyle of privileged classes of Greeks in the Ottoman

Women's destiny, education, and the progress of the nation. In nineteenth-

izens," the former was a means of creating "mothers" (Bakalaki &

It also presupposed notions concerning the nature of the public sphere

1987: 63). Similarly, Grigorios G. Pappadopoulos (1987: 197 [1866])

The teaching of domestic economy. "Accomplishments" such as French and

Greece, those by Zygouras and Leondias are the most theoretical,

mothers and, increasingly, also as partners of men. In light of these

And KallirrhoÃ« Parren, the central figure in the nineteenth-century

Despite these criticisms, however, the parthenagogia continued to

styles and patterns along with various other "accomplishments" they

gorize embroidery as a feminine domestic art (and finally as almost a

In contrast, Erasmus had compared "distaff and spindle" to study,

church embroidery in the 1840s favored medieval styles, women were

The author's excessive use of French terminology was one of the

Î•Î»Î»Î·Î½Î¯Î´Ï‰Î½ (Greek Women's Lyceum) was founded in 1911 and still

Recurrent themes and resonances in nineteenth-century gender-related

servations are an exception. He states that the "extroverted Hellenist

In the nineteenth century, women's moral duties and the values

every ethnographer of Greece, as has women's identification with the

"European" example. Indeed, Hirschon's observation (1978: 84) that

Eleni Varika offers a similar analysis when she speaks of the

of ethnographically reported gender-related culture to the nine-

century educated elite may provide a vantage point from which to

practice or attitude. However, the "natives" themselves seem to value

UNIVERSITY OF THE AEGEAN

Acknowledgments. An earlier version of this paper was presented at the seminar on

Î-Ï‰Ï‚ Ï„Î·Î½ ÎµÎºÏ€Î±Î¹Î´ÎµÏ…Ï„Î¹ÎºÎ® Î¼ÎµÏ„Î±Ï•Ï•Ï•Î¸Î¼Î¹ÏƒÎ· Ï„Î¿Ï… 1929. Athens: IstorikÃ³ ArhÃ-o

Fournaraki, Eleni, editor

Ï€Ï•Î¿Î²Î»Î·Î¼Î±Ï„Î¹ÏƒÎ¼Î¿Î¯ (1830-1910): Î-Î½Î± Î±Î½Î¸Î¿Î»ÏŒÎ³Î¹Î¿, edited by Eleni Fournaraki,

1878 'Î•Ï€Î¹Ï„Î¿Î¼Î® Î¿Î¯ÎºÎ±ÎºÏ€Î®Ï‚ Î¿Î¹ÎºÎ¿Î½Î¿Î¼Î¯Î±Ï‚. (Î£Ï…Î½Ï„Î±Ï‡Î¸ÎµÎ¯ÏƒÎ± Ï€Ï•Î¿Ï‚ Ï‡Ï•Î®ÏƒÎ¹Î½ Ï„ÏŽÎ½ Î´Î·Î¼Î¿Ï„Î¹ÎºÏŽÎ½

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