Extracts from
Lord Macaulay’s
‘Minute on Education 1835’
We have a fund to be
employed as government shall direct for the intellectual improvement of the
people of this country. The simple question is, what is the most useful way of
employing it?
All parties seem to be
agreed on one point, that the dialects commonly spoken among the natives of
this part of
What, then, shall that
language be? One half of the Committee maintain that it should be the English. The
other half strongly recommend the Arabic and Sanscrit. The whole question seems
to me to be, which language is the best worth knowing?
I have no knowledge of
either Sanscrit or Arabic. But I have done what I could to form a correct
estimate of their value. I have read translations of the most celebrated Arabic
and Sanscrit works. I have conversed both here and at home with men
distinguished by their proficiency in the Eastern tongues. I am quite ready to
take the Oriental learning at the valuation of the Orientalists themselves. I
have never found one among them who could deny that a single shelf of a good
European library was worth the whole native literature of
It will hardly be disputed,
I suppose, that the department of literature in which the Eastern writers stand
highest is poetry. And I certainly never met with any Orientalist who ventured
to maintain that the Arabic and Sanscrit poetry could be compared to that of
the great European nations. But, when we pass from works of imagination to
works in which facts are recorded and general principles investigated, the
superiority of the Europeans becomes absolutely immeasurable. It is, I believe,
no exaggeration to say, that all the historical information which has been
collected from all the books written in the Sanscrit language is less valuable
than what may be found in the most paltry abridgements used at preparatory
schools in
How, then, stands the case?
We have to educate a people who cannot at present be educated by means of their
mother-tongue. We must teach them some foreign language. The claims of our own
language it is hardly necessary to recapitulate. It stands pre-eminent even
among the languages of the West. It abounds with works of imagination not
inferior to the noblest which Greece has bequeathed to us; with models of every
species of eloquence; with historical compositions, which, considered merely as
narratives, have seldom been surpassed, and which, considered as vehicles of
ethical and political instruction, have never been equalled; with just and
lively representations of human life and human nature; with the most profound
speculations on metaphysics, morals, government, jurisprudence, and trade; with
full and correct information respecting every experimental science which tends
to preserve the health, to increase the comfort, or to expand the intellect of
man. Whoever knows that language, has ready access to all the vast intellectual
wealth, which all the wisest nations of the earth have created and hoarded in
the course of ninety generations. It may safely be said that the literature now
extant in that language is of far greater value than all the literature which
three hundred years ago was extant in all the languages of the world together.
Nor is this all. In
The question now before us
is simply whether, when it is in our power to teach this language, we shall
teach languages in which, by universal confession, there are no books on any
subject which deserve to be compared to our own; whether, when we can teach
European science, we shall teach systems which, by universal confession
whenever they differ from those of Europe, differ for the worse; and whether,
when we can patronize sound Philosophy and true History, we shall countenance,
at the public expense, medical doctrines which would disgrace an English farrier
- Astronomy, which would move laughter in girls at an English boarding-school —
History, abounding with kings thirty feet high, and reigns thirty thousand
years long – and Geography, made up of seas of treacle and seas of butter.
It is said that we ought to
secure the co-operation of the native public, and that we can do this only by
teaching Sanscrit and Arabic.
I can by no means admit
that, when a nation of high intellectual attainments undertakes to superintend
the education of a nation comparatively ignorant, the learners are absolutely
to prescribe the course which is taken by the teachers. It is not necessary,
however, to say anything on this subject. For it is proved by unanswerable
evidence that we are not at present securing the co-operation of the natives.
It would be bad enough to consult their intellectual taste at the expense of
their intellectual health. But we are consulting neither – we are withholding
from them the learning for which they are craving; we arc forcing on them the
mock-learning which they nauseate.
This is proved by the fact
that we are forced to pay our Arabic and Sanscrit students, while those who
learn English are willing to pay us. All the declamation in the world about the
love and reverence of the natives for their sacred dialects will never, in the
mind of any impartial person, outweigh the undisputed fact, that we cannot find,
in all our vast Empire, a single student who will let us teach him those
dialects unless we will pay him.
It is said that the
Sanscrit and Arabic are the languages in which the sacred books of a hundred
millions of people are written, and that they are, on that account, entitled to
peculiar encouragement. Assuredly it is the duty of the British government in
It is taken for granted by
the advocates of Oriental learning that no native of this country can possibly
attain more than a mere smattering of English. They do not attempt to prove
this: but they perpetually insinuate it. They designate the education which
their opponents recommend as a mere spelling-book education. They assume it as
undeniable, that the question is between a profound knowledge of Hindoo and
Arabian literature and science on the one side, and a superficial knowledge of
the rudiments of English on the other. This is not merely an assumption, but an
assumption contrary to all reason and experience. We know that foreigners of
all nations do learn our language sufficiently to have access to all the most
abstruse knowledge which it contains, sufficiently to relish even the more
delicate graces of our most idiomatic writers. There are in this very town
natives who are quite competent to discuss political or scientific questions
with fluency and precision in the English language. I have heard the very
question on which I am now writing discussed by native gentlemen with a
liberality and an intelligence which would do credit to any member of the
Committee of Public Instruction. Indeed it is unusual to find, even in the literary
circles of the Continent, any foreigner who can express himself in English with
so much facility and correctness as we find in many Hindoos. Nobody, I suppose,
will contend that English is so difficult to a Hindoo as Greek to an
Englishman. Yet an intelligent English youth, in a much smaller number of years
than our unfortunate pupils pass at the Sanscrit college, becomes able to read,
to enjoy, and even to imitate, not unhappily, the composition of the best Greek
authors. Less than half the time which enables an English youth to read
Herodotus and Sophocles ought to enable a Hindoo to read Hume and Milton.
To sum up what I have said:
I think it is clear that we are free to employ our funds as we choose; that we
ought to employ them in teaching what is best worth knowing; that English is
better worth knowing than Sanscrit or Arabic; that the natives are desirous to
be taught English, and are not desirous to be taught Sanscrit or Arabic; that
neither as the languages of law, nor as the languages of religion, have the
Sanscrit and Arabic any peculiar claim to our encouragement; that it is
possible to make natives of this country thoroughly good English scholars, and
that to this end our efforts ought to be directed. In one point I fully agree
with the gentlemen to whose general views I am opposed. I feel, with them, that
it is impossible for us, with our limited means, to attempt to educate the body
of the people. We must at present do our best to form a class who may be
interpreters between us and the millions whom we govern; a class of persons.
Indian in blood and colour, but English in taste, in opinions, in morals, and
in intellect. To that class we may leave it to refine the vernacular dialects
of the country, to enrich those dialects with terms of science borrowed from
the Western nomenclature, and to render them by degrees fit vehicles for
conveying knowledge to the great mass of the population.
I would strictly respect
all existing interests. I would deal even generously with all individuals who
have had fair reason to expect a pecuniary provision. But I would strike at the
root of the bad system which has hitherto been fostered by us. I would at, once
stop the printing of Arabic and Sanscrit books; I would abolish the Madrassa
and the Sanscrit college at Calcutta. Benares is the great seat of Brahmanical
learning; Delhi, of Arabic learning. If we retain the Sanscrit college at
Benares and the Mohamedan college at Delhi, we do enough, and much more than
enough in my opinion, for the Eastern languages. If the Benares and Delhi
colleges should be retained, I would at least recommend that no stipend shall
be given to any students who may hereafter repair thither, but that the people
shall be left to make their own choice between the rival systems of education
without being bribed by us to learn what they have no desire to know. The funds
which thus be placed at our disposal would enable us to give larger
encouragement to the Hindoo college at Calcutta, and to establish in the
principal cities throughout the Presidencies of Fort William and Agra schools
in which the English language might be well and thoroughly taught.
I believe that the present
system tends, not to accelerate the progress of truth, but to delay the natural
death of expiring errors. I conceive that we have at present no right to the
respectable name of a Board of Public Instruction. We are a Board for wasting
public money, for printing books which are less value than the paper on which
they are printed was while it was blank; for giving artificial encouragement to
absurd history, absurd metaphysics, absurd physics, absurd theology; for
raising up a breed of scholars who find their scholarship an encumbrance and a
blemish, who live on the public while they are receiving their education, and whose
education is so utterly useless to them that, when they have received it, they
must either starve or live on the public all the rest of their lives.
Entertaining these opinions, I am naturally desirous to decline all share in
the responsibility of a body which, unless it alters its whole mode of
proceeding, I must consider not merely as useless, but as positively noxious.