A Reluctant Memsahib

Gladys Gose Pearce (American) as a memsahib in India in the 1920s. Group photo with house servants wearing New Year's garlands.

In 1920s British Raj India, independent, hardworking American Gladys was expected to have servants — whether she wanted them or not.

As I write Gladys’s biography of her years in 1920s to 1930s India, I strive to put in context her role at that time as a memsahib. This was a century ago. She and Ken (Americans) had been thrust into the British Raj system, which they didn’t entirely embrace.

Yet they didn’t entirely reject it, either. As master-servant relationships in general (especially between races and economic statuses) make me uncomfortable, here’s my attempt to look at Ken and Gladys’s roles as objectively as I can.

Definitions of memsahib vary. Merriam-Webster defines it as “a white foreign woman of high social status living in India especially: the wife of a British official”.  (The word “white” is rather telling about attitudes in the time of the Raj. Ugh.)

The Collins Dictionary has a simpler definition: “title for a woman in a position of authority and/or the wife of a Sahib”. That, I think, more accurately applied to Gladys, being American.

Eventually the term encompassed Indian upper class women as well. In Economic and Political Weekly, Memsahib: Who Are You?, Swastika Hore points out: “A time would come when the upper classes of Indians would be addressed as sahibs and their wives memsahibs by people lower down the social scale–evidently a colonial hangover.”

As I include diary entries in blog posts that include references to Ken and Gladys managing servants, readers incorrectly may assume that where there are servants, there must be masters who feel entitled. Conversely, Ken and Gladys were genuinely hard working people who had not grown up with servants nor expected to have them.

A Forester and a Teacher as Sahib and Memsahib

Ken, at age sixteen (in 1915) graduated from high school and worked in logging camps. He studied forestry in college, then worked as an assistant professor before being hired by the British Indian government in 1923 at 25 years old.

In my post Ken in the Raj, he describes his arrival in India, when he obviously enjoyed getting elevated attention and honor. Yet during his following ten years in India, Ken worked tirelessly, often from sunup to sundown, in Indian logging camps and mills. He never expected more work from others than he did himself. His clothes grew so sweaty he sometimes changed his work clothes three times in a day.

As for Gladys, she’d been a working woman before moving to India: a self-supporting junior high school teacher. She also was her own cook and housekeeper. However, in India as memsahib of Ken (an important government appointee) Gladys was suddenly expected to have servants do all her household chores. She was often annoyed at not being able to simply do them herself and her own way.

Once, when expecting guests, Gladys wanted to sweep cigar ashes off her veranda. However, her butler (main servant) Freddy was horrified at the thought of Gladys doing it herself, so refused to find her a broom. He also refused to do it himself, considering it below his caste and dignity to sweep. He insisted he must instead fetch a “sweeper” from another village.

A Naughty Baby Elephant

When elephant Kitty gave birth to the first baby elephant born in Nedangayam lumber camp in S. Malabar India, Kitty’s Baby became a beloved pet to all — until she outgrew her welcome.

Image by Dusan Smetanta

Gladys Gose Pearce, October 1926

Dear Diary,

I was told a story about when logging elephant Kitty gave birth to the first elephant baby born in Nedangayam, to great excitement.

It automatically became “Kitty’s Baby” and was the pet of the camp. The Indian Forest Guards encouraged it to reach its little trunk into their pockets for bites of sugarcane. The old shopkeeper fed it sweetmeats when it favored him with a visit. Kitty was docile and benevolently watched the spoiling of her offspring.

When dry season came and fodder in the vicinity insufficiently sustained the herd, the elephants were moved to greener pastures. When they returned with the rains, Kitty’s Baby had grown enormously but had not forgotten her old friends. She’d again feel in a pocket for sugarcane. But if there was none, a resounding tug tore off the pocket and occasionally part of the coat, to the consternation of the wearer. The friendly tug-of-war games in which many had previously engaged with her now became dangerously unequal.

Worse yet, when she called on the shopkeeper, she had grown too wide for the doorway but went in anyway, taking the door frame and part of the wall with her! The shopkeeper was in a quandary. What should he do? He finally moved his shop to a new location, where he hoped Kitty’s Baby would not find him.

Since then, no one has played with baby elephants.

[Excerpt from Tigers, White Gloves and Cradles, coming soon. Copyright 2020, Laurie Winslow Sargent]

This post is from a collection of diary entrees and letters written in the 1920s by Gladys Gose Pearce, an American expat. Her husband J. Kenneth Pearce (Ken), a logging engineer from Seattle WA, worked in British Raj India for ten years. After a jungle honeymoon touring elephant lumber camps, the couple lived in Ooty, Madras, and the Andaman Islands.