Beyond Macaulay: Education in India, 1780-1860 0367335522, 9780367335526

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BEYOND MACAULAY

Beyond Macaulay provides a radical and comprehensive history of Indian education in the early colonial era – from the establishment of the Calcutta Madrasa in 1780 until the end of the East India Company’s rule and the beginning of the administration by the Crown in 1860. The book challenges the conventional theory that the British administration imposed English language and modern education on Indians. Based on rich archival evidence, it critically explores data on 16,000 indigenous schools and shows that indigenous education was not oral, informal, and Brahmin-centric but written, formal, and egalitarian. It covers indigenous education in Sanskrit, Persian, Arabic, and modern Indian vernaculars and the impact of the colonial policies on these schools. The author highlights the educational policies of the colonial state and the way it actively opposed the introduction of modern education and privileged Brahmins. By including 41 hitherto unused Education Minutes of T.B. Macaulay, the volume examines his educational ideas and analyses why the colonial state closed down every school he established. It also contrasts the educational ideas of the British elites and the Orientalists with dissenting Scottish voices. The book discusses post-Macaulayan educational policies and Wood’s Despatch of 1854, as well as educational institutions during the Revolt of 1857 in India. It explores the history of education in North India, Bengal, Madras, and Bombay Presidencies; and the role of caste and religion in educational institutions. This book will be of great interest to scholars and researchers of education, history of education, Indian history, South Asian history, colonial history, sociology, political history, and political science. Parimala V. Rao teaches history of education at Zakir Husain Centre for Educational Studies, School of Social Sciences, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, India. Twice she was a Visiting Fellow at the Institute of Education, London (2011, 2014). As a historian, Rao has worked extensively on educational policies and practices of the colonial state, Indian political leaders, curriculum, girls’ education, and funding of schools. She has authored Foundations of Tilak’s Nationalism: Discrimination, Education and Hindutva (2010/2011) and edited New Perspectives in the History of Indian Education (2014/2016). She has co-edited The Routledge Encyclopedia of Modern Asian Educators (Routledge 2020) and a special issue on modern education in Asia for the journal Espacio, Tiempo y Educación (2018).

BEYOND MACAULAY Education in India, 1780–1860

Parimala V. Rao

First published 2020 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2020 Parimala V. Rao The right of Parimala V. Rao to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested ISBN: 978-0-367-33552-6 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-429-32052-1 (ebk) Typeset in Sabon by Apex CoVantage, LLC

TO THE INDIAN TEACHERS AND STUDENTS WHO STRUGGLED SO HARD TO TEACH AND LEARN ENGLISH AND MODERN SUBJECTS IN SPITE OF THE BRITISH RULE, AND TO THE DEFIANCE OF SCOTSMEN IN INDIA WHO CHALLENGED THE COLONIAL CONSTRUCTS.

CONTENTS

List of tablesviii Prefaceix   1 Introduction: methodology and historiography

1

  2 Indigenous schools in India

14

  3 The early British and Indian interactions

45

  4 Educational policies in Bengal and North India, 1810–183471   5 Brahminisation of education: Bombay Presidency, 1820–183995   6 Ambiguous educational policies: Madras Presidency, 1789–1850122   7 Analysing Macaulay

149

  8 Undermining Macaulay: post-Macaulayan educational developments, 1839–1850

179

  9 Closing years of the East India Company’s Rule, 1850–1860208 10 Concluding observations: addressing the myths

237

Bibliography246 Index256 vii

TABLES

2.1 2.2 2.3

Teachers and students in Ratnagiri district 16 Students in Gujarati- and Kannada-speaking areas 17 Number of schools and students in the Madras Presidency19 2.4 Castes of teachers in the Bengal Presidency 22 2.5 Castes of students in the Bengal Presidency 23 2.6 Low-caste boys in the indigenous and missionary schools in Bardaman district 23 2.7 Students in Sanskrit schools in Malabar 33 2.8 The caste of students in Persian schools in the Bengal Presidency35 2.9 Number of indigenous schools before and after the Indian Revolt of 1857 38 2.10 The number of indigenous schools and students in 1881–188239 5.1 Teachers and students of Elphinstone College, 1840 113 5.2 Castes of boys in Shortrede’s schools 116 6.1 Castes of students in Madras Presidency, 1857 144 9.1 Students in Etawah schools before and after the Indian Revolt of 1857 224 10.1 Report card of the EIC, 1858–59 243

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PREFACE

The saga of T.B. Macaulay as the emblem of the colonial education policy has occupied the academic discourse for decades in India. The colonial educational policy of 190 years has been reduced to three and a half years of Macaulay’s presence in India. He wrote 42 Education Minutes, but only one has been used to create a narrative which also ignores over a hundred Education Minutes by other British officials. So when I began to teach the history of education in 2008, I confronted the daunting task of finding proper materials to teach, and except for the institutional, missionary, and a few regional histories, books on colonial educational policy contained a fair amount of mythology. Professor Richard Aldrich, Emeritus Professor of the Institute of Education, London, and Professor Biswamoy Pati of the University of Delhi, who are not with us today, were the first to urge me to write a comprehensive history of colonial educational policy in India. This work is an attempt to analyse the macro-history of the colonial education policy on the basis of microdata. It looks beyond the well-accepted myths like the indigenous education of India was oral, and that colonial rule destroyed it, the colonial state imposed English education on Indians and so on. It looks beyond Macaulay to document and analyse the numerous Education Minutes and several educational debates across India. It brings forth how the British elites redefined, nurtured, and strengthened the caste system and started the process of the Brahmanisation of educational space. It is an attempt to understand the educational developments of British India from 1780–1860. Girls’ education has not been addressed, as it started towards the end of the time period of this book. During the course of data collection, 2009–2019, I received immense support from Professor Gary McCulloch at the International Centre for Historical Research in Education, in the Institute of Education, London. Professor Marcelo Caruso at the Institute of Educational Studies, Humboldt University, Berlin, and Professor Ratna Ghosh, Department of Integrated Studies in Education, McGill University, Montreal, have constantly encouraged

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me. I would like to thank Professor Nigel Leask and Professor Mary Ellis Gibson, University of Glasgow, and Professor Rosinka Chaudhury, Centre for Studies in Social Sciences, Kolkata, Dr. Manisha Priyam, NIEPA, New Delhi, for their support. I would like to thank Jawaharlal Nehru University for partially funding the study. Since the rest was self-funded, I am grateful to Dr Sim Innes, University of Glasgow, for the information on several unknown Scots who worked in India; Dr Catriona Ellis, University of Edinburgh, and Dr Elena Valdameri, Swiss Federal Institute of Technology, Zurich, for sending me rare books and information; and Dr Raju Abraham for giving me insights. I am thankful to Dr Bapu Deepashri in London, Dr Madhurima Sen and Dr Sarmishta De in Kolkata, and Ms Nita Shirali in Mumbai for opening their homes and hearths to me. This made my fieldwork on a shoestring budget quite comfortable. The wonderful staffs of the India Office Records in the Asian and African section of the British Library, London, Nehru Memorial Museum and Library, New Delhi, and the Maharashtra State Archives, Mumbai, deserve special thanks. I am grateful to my colleagues at the Zakir Husain Centre for Educational Studies, Professor Srinivasa Rao, Professor Saumen Chattopadhyay, and Dr Arvind Mishra, for their constant support. I learnt a great deal from interacting with them on how to communicate historical knowledge to social scientists. Such interactions are essential as Dr. Mishra says for unsettling the seemingly settled narratives. A discussion on methodology, the use of data, and the inclusion of tables in this volume are the results of such interactions.

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1 INTRODUCTION Methodology and historiography

The steamboats passing up and down the Ganges are boarded by native boys, begging not for money but for books. – Charles Trevelyan, 18271

The introduction of English education in India has been attributed to a ‘colonial project,’ a tool to enforce ‘cultural imperialism,’ which had a ‘political agenda’ and which led to the ultimate ‘cultural subjugation of the colonised.’ The history of Indian education abounds with such theories. The term ‘English education’ widely used in India and the colonial documents denote ‘modern education.’ Some of the ‘modern,’ or English, schools taught modern sciences, mathematics, history, geography, and political economy through English as a medium of instruction along with English literature, local vernacular, and Sanskrit, while others taught English as a second language and modern curriculum through vernaculars. Both of these categories of schools were referred to as the ‘Anglo-vernacular schools’ and ‘English schools’ in colonial records. These were essentially secondary schools. Below them were primary schools, which were conducted entirely in the local vernacular. Before the introduction of modern education, the indigenous vernacular schools across India taught the vernacular literature and arithmetic. The colonial state, in most cases, followed a policy of incorporation. It gave the indigenous schoolteachers a small salary and some training to maintain an attendance register and prepare annual reports, and made these into government primary schools. It also retained the indigenous curriculum and added history and geography. This was the general trend across India during the first half of the nineteenth century, except in Bombay Presidency and Punjab. It continued well into the 1870s and 1880s in North India and Bengal.2 In direct contrast, the schools established by the Indians, such as the Vidyalaya in Calcutta, Elphinstone College in Bombay, Pacheyappa College in Madras, and numerous schools founded by little-known individuals across India were modelled on European schools, complete with a European 1

INTRODUCTION

curriculum and British headmasters.3 These schools adopted English as a medium of instruction for both primary and secondary classes. The colonial state did not establish a single English school during first 95 years of its rule (1757–1852) and made a few half-hearted attempts later. The only educational institutions it established were Calcutta Madrasa, 1781; Banaras Sanskrit College, 1792; Madrassas at Bhagalpur and Jaunpur, 1811; College of Fort St George – Arabic and Sanskrit, 1812; Sanskrit Colleges at Calcutta and Poona, 1821; Agra College – Arabic and Sanskrit, 1824; and Delhi College – Arabic and Sanskrit, 1825.4 Under intense pressure from British liberals and the fear of interrogation in the British Parliament, the colonial state established a few schools after 1852. These historical facts upturn the image popularised by writers that the indigenous education was ‘informal, oral’ and destroyed by the British and that the introduction of English education was a ‘colonial project.’ The reason for a huge gap between the fact and the popular understanding of both the indigenous and the modern education system in India is non-application of methodology, which is called the ‘historical method’ for collecting and analysing the data. The works that argue, for instance, that ‘the English education was a colonial imposition’ are based on the assumption that, since the language of the colonial rulers was English, they imposed it on Indians. This is justified on the basis of the need for manning colonial bureaucracy and Indian aspiration for government jobs. These assumptions become theories in the narrative.5 If one goes with this theory and collects data to prove its correctness, one gets Macaulay’s Minute and instances of a few Indians working in the colonial government. However, in the process, one has to ignore Macaulay’s 41 other Education Minutes, which take a very different stand from his infamous Minute, and over one hundred Education Minutes from other British officers. So, the historical method is essential to write accurate history. E. H. Carr urged the history and social sciences to move much closer as the social sciences were posing new questions for the historians to answer and a new hypothesis to test.6 Such proximity could be achieved after the data is collected and analysed according to the historical method, and social science theories could be applied to test if they hold true in a given historical situation. However, if a theory is formulated before collecting and analysing the data, it would lead to erroneous conclusions. The theories of imperialism have been applied to the development of modern education in India. For instance, Martin Carnoy has argued that the British administration used the missionaries to enforce cultural imperialism. He states that ‘under the military protection of the company, missionaries could get to know a geographic area more intimately and provide essential information about the social structure, culture and economic production, and trading habits of the people. They helped to legitimate foreign presence among the natives by demonstrating the superiority of Christianity.’7 The fact is that the British considered the 2

INTRODUCTION

missionaries detrimental to their expansion and actively forbade them from entering India. After the missionaries agitated over a period of 20 years, they were allowed to enter India in 1813. By that time, the British had won 11 out of 14 wars (see chapter 3 in this book). Carnoy went on to strengthen his cultural imperialism theory by stating that the colonial state established the Vidyalaya, though it was established by the people of Calcutta led by Rammohan Roy (see chapter 4 in this book). Carnoy also sarcastically comments on the non-vegetarian food habits of Rammohan Roy to argue that Roy had adopted Western habits and was in a sense rootless;8 though Carnoy did not know that most Brahmins of eastern India are non-vegetarians. Similarly, Gauri Viswanathan, in Masks of Conquest: Literary Study and British Rule in India, attempts to apply Edward Said’s theory of Orientalism to Indian history. In order to prove that the British imposed English education, she misrepresents the Bentinck Resolution, which was a policy statement without any legal sanction as the ‘English Education Act,’9 a legally enforcible act. She has used this nonexistent ‘Act’ to facilitate the argument that the British forced Indians to study ‘animated, vivified, hallowed, and baptised’ English literature.10 The Beautiful Tree, written in 1983 by Dharmapal, is still influential as far as the indigenous education is concerned, follows an intense antiwestern perspective. Dharmapal begins his book with the assertion that ‘our knowledge about Indian education is derived from foreigners,’ yet he uses the data collected by ‘foreigners’ to support his claim that the British destroyed the indigenous education. He situated the book in a statement made by M. K. Gandhi in London in 1931 that ‘the British administrators, when they came to India, instead of taking hold of things as they were, began to root them out. They scratched the soil and began to look at the root, and left the root like that, and the beautiful tree perished.’11 Dharmapal derived the title of the book from this statement. Dharmapal has used the Bengal and Madras data while he completely ignored the Bombay data collected during the same period. He also did not look at the data for the period 1840–1900, which would have shown that Gandhi’s assumption was wrong. This theory completely ignores the fact that the British funded and nurtured the indigenous schools throughout the nineteenth century (see chapter 2 in this book). Another instance of anti-Western interpretation applied to Indian education is that of Krishna Kumar. In his popular book Political Agenda of Education, Kumar has argued that the British imposed ‘writing’ or ‘literary’ education in direct contrast to ‘Indian reliance on oral tradition.’ To substantiate the argument he quotes a statement by William Arnold, the Director of Public Instruction of Panjab: We found a population with their own idea of the meaning of education, and to that idea thoroughly attached; and to whom our 3

INTRODUCTION

idea of education, being inconsistent with their own, was thoroughly distasteful; as to an Asiatic everything is distasteful which is new.12 Arnold’s statement was in reference to the opposition of the Panjabispeaking population to his imposition of Urdu as the official language and the medium of instruction (see chapter 9 in this book). Instead of using the archival records, Kumar uses 2,000-year-old Hindu mythological ­stories to substantiate his arguments on the orality of indigenous education, the autonomy of teachers, and subservient status of students in the history of Indian education.13 He considers mythology as history, and as a consequence he denies ontological status of history as a rigorous social science discipline. Also, how could Indian tradition be predominantly oral after it has produced 100,000 inscriptions, 500 texts, and 11 scripts? These theory-based works do not rely on sources or the analysis of sources according to any given methodology of either history or any of the social sciences but rather construct stories according to convenience, or what can be called ‘as you like it’ history. They reject the primacy of facts and the distinction between ‘proper history’ and ‘ideological history’ and regard ‘true interpretation’ as an oxymoron.14 Anyone relying on the sources and historical method is accused of being empiricist in nature.15 The following section on the research methodology is essential to address this lacuna in the history of education in India.

The historical method The modern historical method was developed by Leopold von Ranke (1795–1886). His 1821 essay ‘On the task of the Historian’ made a complete separation of subject and object and developed a scientific method of analysing the sources for writing history. He opposed eulogising and moralising history and argued that the task of history ‘is not to judge the past or instruct the present for the benefit of the future. Its business is simply to show how it really was and as it actually happened – wei es eigentlich gewesen.’16 Ranke’s writings and the scientific method he developed to analyse documents made him the Founder of modern history. He exhorted the historians to study the past ‘in its own right,’ ‘see things as they really were,’ and ‘understand what happened, purely in its own terms.’17 Ranke has sometimes been mistakenly identified as a Positivist. He upheld the autonomy of historical method and declined the role of the philosopher. What Ranke rejected was not philosophy as such but the notion that philosophical systems could be used to explain history. He criticised writers who ‘out of the infinite array of facts, select those which they wish to believe. This has been called the philosophy of history.’18

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The primacy of facts, ‘die strenge Darstellung der Tatsache,’ is the most effective prescription for the historian’s work. It means a return to the sources, to the evidence provided by them, and to the decision not to make an abstract theory. The historian has to get to know and to present the facts as they are. A historian has to abstain from philosophical speculations. Strict presentation of the particular events and facts, even if it is unattractive and dull, should unquestionably be the supreme law in historiography, which cannot imitate philosophical procedures of abstraction and generalisation. Ranke propounded ‘a scientific approach to historiography, based upon the critical study of sources. He developed a method for such a critical study that allows the use of evidence provided by the sources to discredit distortions and to isolate their origins and infer true ­descriptions of the past. According to Ranke, the scientific study of history could only thrive if philosophical speculations about history came to an end.’ ­Historiographic knowledge is documentary, not speculative. Historiography’s medium is the document, not the conceptual construction. Historiography is concerned with the particular and the individual, not the general and the universal.19 The application of historical method is not limited to inanimate archival documents; it can also be applied to interviews, and Ranke used the interview method to help write history. It can also be ultimately applied to the historians to see whether their writings have ideological and social bias or they stand up to the test of critical questioning. Such critical scrutiny is essential to see whether historians are projecting their personal ideologies onto the historical sources. Siegfried Baur has analysed that ‘whoever misuses history to satisfy ideological needs can never accept Ranke’s histories, critical source-based science, and its autonomous movements.’20 E. H. Carr has correctly observed that ‘the question of whether or not history is a science has been discussed in Anglo-American circles (English speaking part of the world) largely because of ‘an eccentricity of the English language.’ The German term Wissenschaft simply means ‘a discipline or body of organised knowledge.’ Thus, Naturwissenschaft can be aptly translated as ‘natural sciences,’ while Geschichtwissenschaft, which translates into ‘historical sciences,’ cannot be used.21 The emphasis on the primacy of facts can be criticised because the voices of natives, women, and lower classes cannot be heard in the ‘colonial archives’ in the midst of documents created by upper-class British and upper-caste Indian men. It is true that elite men always create large volumes of information about themselves and their ideas, and their followers multiply the sources by adding on to them. However, with a persistent effort it is possible to find the prejudice of these men as well as dissenting voices. One single copy of a dissenting note from the marginalised could upturn the entire narrative. A single essay by a low-caste teenage boy or a petition from a village

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to the government can upturn the grand narratives of 11 conservative elitist governor-generals of India. The files in Indian archives are divided into A, B, and C. The ‘A’ files contain reports which the colonial government created for public consumption as well as to convince the higher authorities, such as the British Parliament. These are widely available. However, the ‘B’ and particularly the ‘C’ files contain the voices of common people. They are in handwritten form. They take longer to search, and it sometimes takes hours to read a single page. If one is persistent enough, it is possible to record counter-currents. As Richard Aldrich argues, ‘The duty of the historian of education is to rescue from oblivion those, whose voices have not yet been heard and whose stories have not yet been told.’22

The methodology As the discipline of history is concerned with analysing, explaining, and describing the events of the past in a critical and scientific way, objectivity is imperative. Objectivity means dispassionate, disinterested, and scientific treatment of all events which a historian investigates. Historical research has two functions to perform. One is the collection of data, and the other is the analysis of that data to explain what, why, and how historical events and processes took place. While collecting the data, a historian does not select data but collects every document that is available on the topic of research. The limitations that bind the hands of a historian are geographical and financial. For instance, an Indian historian may not have funds to work in the India Office Records of the British Library in London and may limit the research to the archival data available in India. This is not selective use of data but difficulties faced by historians from developing countries. Historical research scientifically investigates and explores the past and presents it in its proper context. A historical study in common with other social sciences and sciences involves a perpetual interaction between questions and evidence.23 This analytical operation has two stages. The first stage is called heuristics, or external criticism, and the second stage is called hermeneutics, or internal criticism.

Heuristics or external criticism Historical research begins with the basic premise that all data is suspect unless proven otherwise. Historical sources for analysing the history of education in India consist of government documents, private papers, journals, and newspapers for the modern period. It is possible that documents might have been written by someone other than the claimed author. It is also possible that someone might have added or removed certain passages from the original texts which would have benefitted him – or someone dear to him – or under pressure from power centres. Under such circumstances, it 6

INTRODUCTION

becomes the duty of a historian to doubt every aspect of the text until it has been critically tested. So the process of external criticism assists in proving the authenticity of sources by determining the authorship, date, and textual accuracy of a historical document.24

Hermeneutics or internal criticism After the credentials of a historical document have been established, a historian analyses its content. This process is called hermeneutics, or internal criticism. This intricate technique has two parts – positive criticism and negative criticism. The purpose of positive criticism is to know what the author means by making a particular statement25 (in other words, establishing the meaning of words at the time the text was written). For instance, the nineteenth-century official records mention that the government closed down a number of schools because they had ‘pupils from the miserable background.’ The application of ‘positive criticism’ reveals that the term ‘miserable background’ refers to both poor upper-caste students and lowcaste students. This can be done by exploring in which other context the colonial officials used the term ‘miserable background.’ Positive criticism gives us the author’s conception and general notions, which he or she represents at that time. The purpose of negative criticism is to verify whether what the author has said confirms to what really happened in order to determine the correctness of the facts. A historical inquiry must ascertain whether the author of the historical document had the opportunity to know the facts as an eyewitness. If not, what was the source of information? How much time had elapsed between the event and the record? After this is determined, the next step is to place the document for a series of three tests. First, was the source or author able to tell the truth? The ability of an author to tell the truth depends on his or her closeness to the event in terms of time, geographical location, and language skills. This in itself is not a sufficient proof of authenticity, and it leads to the next question – was the source willing to tell the truth? This second step helps to determine whether the author has written a document for the benefit of a person or cause dear to him or her. The author may also be biased towards the subject of his or her testimony.26 For instance, H.S. Reid was appointed in 1850 to carry out a survey of indigenous educational institutions and the feasibility of extending government support to such schools in the North-Western Provinces (present Uttar Pradesh). Did Reid have the ability to tell the truth? He did, as he was proficient in both Hindi and Urdu, and he visited numerous villages and towns; however, was he willing to tell the truth? No. He reported to the government that the people of Etawah town thought that the proposal to establish schools was ‘to collect children to offer them up as a propitiatory sacrifice, after the completion of Ganga canal.’ Within two years, A.O. Hume went to Etawah as a district officer 7

INTRODUCTION

and found unprecedented enthusiasm for education, which resulted in the establishment of 185 schools (see chapter 9). This shows that Reid wrote a fabricated report to represent the people as uncivilised. This is precisely the reason that the final step in the direction of ascertaining the accuracy of a document is to find out whether any contradictory evidence exists in other sources. It is known in history that influential and powerful groups create an enormous number of documents which would confuse a historian. For instance, there exists a copious amount of writings on the idea that indigenous education in India was entirely oral. Most of them derive from the same source or set of sources. Historical evidence shows that only a very small number of Sanskrit schools which taught the Vedas were oral, while in thousands of other indigenous schools writing was taught on the very first day.27 Even when there is no contradictory evidence, the historicity of a document should rest on two or more independent, reliable sources. For instance, the lieutenant- governor of the North-Western Provinces, James Thomason, established a system of primary schools called Hulkabandi. These schools were held in very high esteem by the senior British officials for almost a century, and they repeatedly attempted to extend the same model to other parts of India. Thomason also established an engineering college at Roorkee. Taken together, Thomason’s achievements appear to be commendable. However, if we analyse other documents of his administration, we come across the fact that Thomason closed down high schools at Allahabad, Jounpur, and Gorakhpur, because they had only ‘pupils from the miserable background.’ These schools could have provided competent candidates for the engineering college. This shows not only his class bias but also the fact that Thomason wanted to train Indians to be low-level assistants, not engineers. This is further corroborated by the fact that he kept the curriculum of the Hulkabandi schools so low that in arithmetic 98 per cent of schools did not teach simple multiplication and division even in the fourth year, which was the highest class. Such low educational standards resulted in the low representation of students from the NorthWestern Provinces in the universities in the nineteenth century and general educational backwardness in the twentieth century. So if a historical analysis concentrates on certain government policy documents of the Roorkee Engineering College alone without looking into other activities, Thomason appears to be a hero, while his responsibility for destroying the educational system in the North-Western Provinces escapes scrutiny. Historians usually do not discuss methodology, because there is only one method of analysing the written sources. If such is the case, the question arises as to why historians differ so widely on identical events. This is due to the perspectives of historians. For instance, the British Parliament earmarked 100,000 rupees as the annual education budget for British India in 1813. An imperialist historian might look at that as a great achievement, as pre-colonial rulers in India donated only for the teaching of sacred literature, 8

INTRODUCTION

not secular. Moreover, Britain itself had not recognised the responsibility of the state towards education. It was done first for India in 1813 and for Britain in 1833. A Marxist historian might question the imperialist interpretation by stating that the children of the peasants and marginalised sections were completely left out of its benefits. A liberal and critical historian might look at every policy debate and delve into account books to show that the colonial state withheld and diverted funds earmarked for education and repeatedly sabotaged the process with the exception of the interventions made by a few conscientious liberal British and Scottish officers. All three perspectives, though they differ widely, are based on facts.

Historiography of Indian education for the period 1780–186028 The historiography of Indian education, particularly the institutional histories, is rich and nuanced. David Kopf’s British Orientalism and the Bengal Renaissance analyses the debates and developments in the early part of the nineteenth century and questions the traditional history-writing of ‘the British impact,’ which focuses on ‘the westernisation and modernisation,’ and ‘the Indian response,’ which focuses on ‘Indian heritage and renaissance.’ Kopf pertinently asks whether the Bengal renaissance was a process of westernisation or a reinterpretation of tradition.29 To answer this central question, Kopf attempts to study the ‘social, cultural, psychological and intellectual changes that were brought about in Bengal as a result of contact between British officials and missionaries on the one hand and the Hindu intelligentsia on the other.’ It is in this background that he studies the birth of Orientalism and the establishment of the College of Fort William, which was a unique experiment undertaken by governor-general Wellesley to ‘keep the erroneous doctrines of the French revolution’ from reaching the young British recruits serving in India.30 Kopf analyses the activities of the Orientalists and the complex process of cultural exchange that brought about a change in the intellectual domain in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. This complex process of interaction between Europeans and Indians in the field of education forms the backdrop of Bhagaban Prasad Majumdar’s First Fruits of English Education: 1817–1857. Majumdar begins the narrative with the establishment of the Hindu College in Calcutta by Rammohan Roy. It was the first college established in Asia to teach modern sciences and English literature. Majumdar is the first historian to analyse the social background of the students, the structure, the functioning, and the curriculum of the college. He has also critically analysed the life and activities of some of the prominent British and Indian teachers and students. The book contains a wealth of information on the development of radicalism and political consciousness among the teachers and students of the college.31 Though the 9

INTRODUCTION

book is a social history of Hindu College in Calcutta, it brings in relevant details from other parts of India to see the similarities between different educational experiments. Margrit Pernau’s edited volumeThe Delhi College looks beyond the institution and unfolds a complex dynamics of European, not just British, and Muslim interaction in the first half of the nineteenth century. This institution was established by the British in 1825 to educate the Muslim elites in Arabic and Persian. Its first principal was Felix Boutros, a Frenchman; the second principal was Aloys Sprenger, an Austrian from Tyrol; and another important person of influence was Gottlieb Wilhelm Leitner (who dominated the educational scenario in Punjab for the next 25 years), a German Jew from Hungary. The study also focuses on some early students of the college, such as Ramachandra and Mohanlal Kashmiri. Pernau effectively strings together the history of an institution, the society, and the city with the larger canvas of European influences.32 Nita Kumar, in her book Lessons from Schools: The History of Education in Banaras, sees complexities arising from what she calls an aggressive imposition of the homogenised formal structure on the existing Sanskrit schools, or pathasalas.33 Michael Dodson further investigates the Sanskrit College at Banaras in Orientalism, Empire and National Culture: India 1770–1880. He explores how, in spite of better state salaries and state assurance of jobs, the college was unpopular among the Sanskrit scholars and produced only four law graduates during 1792–1810.34 The historiography of missionary education is rich. D.H. Emmott’s ‘Alexander Duff and the Foundation of Modern Education in India’ and M. A. Laird’s Missionaries and Education in Bengal 1793–1837 go beyond the simplistic picture of putting all missionaries, particularly all protestant missionaries, into the same basket. If Emmott addresses the peculiarities of the educational activities of Alexander Duff, a Presbyterian missionary, to his Gaelic roots, Laird has effectively placed the difference between the English and the Scottish Protestant Christianity and the education system as a backdrop to the educational activities of these missionaries.35 Until Duff came to Calcutta, the missionaries gave a very basic vernacular ­literacy. Emmott analysed how Duff ‘as a native of the Scottish Highlands, had ­realised very early that among Gaelic-speaking people the demands of higher education could only be met by English. Duff placed Gaelic and Bengali in the same category.’ It was the popularity of Duff’s school that made the other missionaries pursue a similar path, albeit reluctantly. It was ­Gaelic-speaking Duff who was the most fervent supporter of English education, while the English-speaking Baptist missionaries were ardent supporters of B ­ engali as the medium of instruction.36 Robert Eric Frykenburg has analysed a wide range of missionary activities in the field of education, from the first Protestant Mission set up at Tranquebar in 1706 by Bartholomaus Ziegenbalg and Heinrich Plutschau to the twentieth-century interactions.37 Koji 10

INTRODUCTION

Kawashima, in an in-depth study of the missionary education, has questioned the notion of ‘the missionaries as handmaiden of imperialism.’ The school, established by the Maharaja of Travancore, taught the Bible, while no school established by the British allowed the Bible to be used in any way. Through meticulously collected statistics, he has proved that a Hindu state promoted missionary education, while the British officers restricted it. When the Hindu Diwans were in charge of education, there were 1,265 aided missionary schools, and when A. C. Mitchell, a British official, was made the education secretary, within a year the number of schools came down to 472.38 Lynn Zastoupil and Martin Moir accurately analyse that ‘the Indians who were actively involved in the spread of English education were also known for their love of Sanskrit and mother tongue and enormously contributed to the development of their mother tongue. It is difficult to square this dual commitment to British and Bengali culture with the Gramscian model of cultural hegemony.’ According to them, the Indian public was flexible enough to adapt to the British presence, absorbing the Western culture and the English language and in the process enriching, rather than enervating, existing intellectual and cultural trends.39 There are several well-researched books based on archival sources pertaining to various provinces of India. R. V. Parulekar’s Indigenous Education is a collection of microdata of western India, and the introduction gives important insights. His other three volumes deal with educational records of the early period of colonial rule.40 Archana Chakravarti’s History of Education in Assam, 1826–1919 deals with colonial policies and the emergence of the Assamese language as a medium of instruction in schools.41 Jatashankar Jha’s Beginnings in Modern Education in Mithila gives local details of the region and shows how the Darbanga administration closed down primary schools because the ‘peasants behaved badly towards its Maharaja,’ which resulted in the region remaining educationally backward compared with other parts of Bihar.42 Uday Shankar and C.L. Kundu’s edited volume Education in Haryana brings out some historical information on the region.43 J. Mangamma’s The Rate Schools of Godavari shows the process of the closing down of Thomas Munro’s schools, the establishment of ‘Rate Schools,’ and how they were converted to Local Fund Schools in the 1870s.44 These microstudies are an invaluable contribution to historiography. Tim Allender’s Ruling Through Education elaborately describes the British educational policies in Punjab.45 Stuart Blackburn’s Print, Folklore and Nationalism in Colonial South India and Bhavani Raman’s Document Raj: Writing and Scribes in Early Colonial South India deal with the rise of Tamil pundits who prepared the modern grammar texts as well as the pedagogy of the Tamil indigenous schools. Both these texts deal with the formation of the College of Fort St George in Madras and its impact on the south Indian vernaculars.46 11

INTRODUCTION

The present work attempts to go beyond Macaulay to document multiple debates on modern education across British India, from the establishment of the first colonial educational institution, the Madrassa at Calcutta in 1780 – through the end of the administration of the East India Company (EIC) and the beginning of the administration of the British crown in 1860. For the first time, many of these debates have been brought into the public domain. The Indian voices as recorded in the petitions for the establishment of schools and students’ essays have also been analysed. It situates them in their socio-political context of the imperial administration as well as the liberal Scottish dissent to imperial agenda. This work attempts to bring into mainstream history the voices of unknown students and ordinary people.

Notes 1 Trevelyan, On the Education of the People of India, 166–167. 2 See Mukherjee, Report on the Village Schools in North-Western Province and Punjab, Minute by J. Willoughby, 12 January 1850, Report of the Board of Education 1850, 134–192. 3 See chapter 3 for details of such schools. 4 All the schools established by Thomas Munro and T.B. Macaulay were closed down after their death or departure, respectively. See chapters 6 and 7. 5 See Carnoy, Education as Cultural Imperialism, Viswanathan, Masks of Conquest, Kumar, Political Agenda of Education. 6 Evans, In Defence of History, 38. 7 Carnoy, Education as Cultural Imperialism, 88. 8 Ibid, 98–99. 9 Visvanathan, Masks of Conquest, 41. 10 Ibid, 80. 11 Dharmapal, The Beautiful Tree, xi, 1. 12 Kumar, Political Agenda, 50–55. 13 Ibid, 86–87. 14 Rao, History as Historiography, 5–10. 15 McCulloch, The Struggle for the History of Education, 72. 16 Ibid, 267–271. 17 Rao, History as Historiography, 5–6. 18 Wines, ed., Leopold Von Ranke, 101–102. 19 Gil, ‘Leopold Ranke,’ 381–385. 20 Quoted in Boldt, ‘Ranke,’ 468. 21 Evans, In Defence of History, 45. 22 Aldrich, Lessons from History of Education, 18. 23 Ibid, 6. 24 Ali, History: Its Theory and Method, 112–116. 25 Ibid, 117–124. 26 Ibid, 125–131. 27 See chapter 2 in this book. 28 An earlier version titled ‘Trends in the Historiography of Indian Education’ was published in Jahrbuch für Historische Bildungsforschung. Used with permission. 29 Kopf, British Orientalism, vii–viii. 30 Ibid, 45.

12

INTRODUCTION

31 Majumdar, First Fruits of English Education. 32 Pernau, ed., The Delhi College, Traditional Elites, the Colonial State and Education Before 1857. 33 Kumar, Lessons from Schools, History of Education in Banaras. 34 Dodson, Orientalism, Empire and National Culture, 55–58. 35 Laird, Missionaries and Education in Bengal 1793-1837. 36 Emmott, ‘Alexander Duff and the Foundation of Modern Education in India,’ 160–169. 37 Frykenberg, ‘Modern Education in South India,’ 37–65, Frykenberg, Christianity in India. 38 Kawashima, Missionaries and a Hindu State Travancore, 100–105. 39 Zastoupil and Moir, The Great Indian Education Debate, 14–15. 40 Parulekar, Survey of Indigenous Education, Parulekar, Selections from Educational Records (Bombay) Part I, II, and III 1826–1840. 41 Chakraverti, History of Education in Assam 1826–1919. 42 Jha, Beginnings in Modern Education in Mithila. 43 Shankar and Kundu, ed., Education in Haryana. 44 Mangamma, The Rate Schools of Godavari. 45 Allender, Ruling Through Education. 46 Blackburn, Print, Folklore and Nationalism; Raman, Document Raj.

13

2 INDIGENOUS SCHOOLS IN INDIA

In the indigenous vernacular schools, ‘parents of good caste do not hesitate to send their children to schools conducted by teachers of an inferior caste and even of a different religion. . . . this is true of the Chandal, and other low caste teachers enumerated.’ – William Adam1 The Hindoos and Mahomedans, as well as the different castes of the Hindoos, a few of the lowest excepted, mix together for the purpose of education without the slightest reluctance or inconvenience. – Mountstuart Elphinstone2

By the beginning of the nineteenth century, India had a diverse and thriving indigenous system of education, which comprised both sacred and secular. The Sanskrit schools taught literature and sacred texts in most cases exclusively to Brahmin boys, and the Madrasas taught Arabic language and Islamic literature to Muslim boys. The Persian schools taught Persian literature, and the vernacular schools taught Indian vernaculars, such as Kannada, Tamil, Bengali, Marathi, and so on, along with arithmetic, to boys of all castes and religions. All these schools were single-teacher schools. Alexander Johnstone (1775–1849), one of the founders of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland, has left behind a very elaborate account of the education system in south India during the latter part of the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Johnstone was born in Scotland and was taken to Madras at an early age. He spent his childhood studying Tamil, Telugu, and Hindustani alongside native boys. He was sent to Britain in 1792 for higher education. During 1802–1819, Johnstone served in various positions, including the Chief Justice of Ceylon. He fought for the abolition of slavery in Ceylon. Johnstone has recorded the details of the upanayana ceremony performed by Hindu parents of all castes before initiating their sons into formal learning in peninsular India.3 Johnstone argued 14

INDIGENOUS SCHOOLS IN INDIA

that ‘every Hindu parent looked upon the education of his child as a sacred duty’ and that all men irrespective of caste had access to education. He urged the British government to establish schools in every village ‘to render them properly qualified for expecting the highest office under the British government.’4 A comparative analysis of indigenous education across India can be made by using a combination of early reports. In 1813, the British parliament earmarked 100,000 rupees for promoting education in India. The colonial state did not utilise the sum until 1821 under the pretext that the natives would not submit to the subordination and discipline of educational institutions. Such notions were challenged by Thomas Munro, the governor of the Madras Presidency; Francis Warden in the Bombay Presidency; and William Adam in the Bengal Presidency. They collected the data of the indigenous schools to urge the colonial state to spend resources to strengthen them as well as to establish new schools. William Adam, a Scottish scholar of Sanskrit and Bengali languages and a friend of Rammohan Roy, collected the data at the height of the Orientalist and Anglicist debate. Adam was not a supporter of either group and advocated for government support to vernacular education. Adam visited every school he enumerated, sat in the classes, and interacted with teachers and students. Like him, T.B. Jervis in South Konkan and A.D. Campbell in Bellary district collected exhaustive information after personally visiting the schools. The colonial state ignored the data collected by them. The reports remained in archives till the end of British rule.

Indigenous vernacular schools – Bombay Presidency The earliest and most extensive survey was done by Thomas Best Jervis, employed in the statistical survey of the South Konkan district. Jervis began to collect the data soon after the fall of the Peshwa’s rule in 1818 and completed his survey in 1820. This earliest report gives a better view of the condition of pre-colonial education as the field was virtually untouched by British influences. The 2,240 villages in Ratnagiri district had 86 schools, with 1,468 boys (see Table 2.1) and an average student-to-teacher ratio of one teacher to 17 boys. Of the 82 Hindu teachers, 49 came from non-Brahmin castes, traditionally thought to have had no access to education. Even among the students, 811 out of 1,378 Hindu boys were non-Brahmins. The total population of the district was 600,000, including 128,883 boys and 77,682 girls under the age of 12. The schools were also unevenly distributed. The Sanksi taluka with its 91 villages had schools only in five villages. Ten schools existed in these five villages, which contained 119 boys, comprising 35 Brahmin, 25 Maratha, 21 Prabhu, 28 from artisanal castes, and ten Muslim boys. The 15

INDIGENOUS SCHOOLS IN INDIA

Table 2.1  Teachers and students in Ratnagiri district Castes

Teachers

Students

Brahmin Dominant castes – Prabhu, Vysya, Maratha, Lingayat Artisanal castes – Kumbhar, Kansar/Kasar, Simpi, Sonar, Bhandari, Mali, Teli, Sutar, Navi, Koli, Panchal, Dhangar, etc. Total Hindu Muslim Jew Total

33 40

567 418

9

393

82 2 2 86

1,378 65 25 1,468

Source: Compiled from the tables attached to letter from T.B. Jervis to the Secretary to the government dated 8 September 1824, General Department, 63, 1824.

ten teachers comprised four Brahmin; three Kunbi; and one each of Prabhu, Shimpi, and Muslim.5 In the village Pent in Ouchitghar taluka, Baji Pant Marathe, a Brahmin teacher taught, in a shed belonging to a Teli, one Brahmin, six Sonar, one Shimpi, ten Bhandari, four Sali, three Mali, six Khatri, and one Panchal boy. Similarly, in the village Palee, Amrutrao Bhagwant, a Prabhu, taught, in the village temple, five Brahmin, six Prabhu, seven Sonar, five Kasar, four Maratha, five Shimpi, three Surekuree, one Jangam, three Jews, and seven Muslim boys. This school must have been a very popular one as he had 46 students under him, the highest number in that Taluka.6 Jervis collected exhaustive data on education as he was interested in knowing the system of education that existed among the Indians; hence, he did not send it to the government. In 1821, G. L. Pendergast, a member of the Governor’s Council, claimed that ‘there is hardly a village in which there is not at least one school . . . where young natives are taught reading, writing and arithmetic.’7 The governor of Bombay Presidency, Mountstuart Elphinstone, insisted that according to the Hindu religion, only Brahmins had access to education. This was opposed by Francis Warden, who wanted a survey of indigenous schools for a proper understanding of how they worked. Elphinstone ordered the survey to prove his stand and find out whether the indigenous schools were supported by gaum khurch, or village expenses.8 The data disproved the theories of both Pendergast and Elphinstone. The data is not uniform; for some districts, the caste-wise list of teachers is available, while for others this was done only for students. So, the data of some districts could be tabulated while for others, it cannot be done. For instance, the report says that 380 boys in schools in Thana district came equally from ‘Brahmin, Prabhu, Sutar, Bhandari and even coolies.’9 In Khandesh, of the 104 vernacular teachers, ‘60 were Brahmins and 44 non-Brahmins,’ and 16

INDIGENOUS SCHOOLS IN INDIA

of the 1,444 students, 486 were Brahmins, and 958 came from artisanal castes. For this district, there is also information that 2,295 Mahar and 2,022 Brahmin boys under the age of 12 did not attend the schools.10 The Ahmadnagar district had 571 students, with 275 Brahmin, eight Marwari, and 198 artisanal caste students. The district had 90 Muslim students who studied in Arabic schools.11 In Surat, there were 42 ‘Hindu or Gujarati’ schools with 2,223 boys. Parsis had 11 religious schools, and for general education, students attended Gujarati vernacular schools.12 Broach town and the surrounding villages had 16 schools with 373 boys, comprising Hindu, Muslim, and Parsis students.13 In Sangamner, 117 villages had no schools, and in the remaining five villages, there were 21 schools. These schools had 134 Brahmin, 31 Kunbi, 14 Khatri, ten Sonar, 13 Muslim and eight Pardesi children. The 21 teachers comprised 16 Brahmin, one Gujar, one Sonar, two Gholuk, and two Muslims.14 The data for Sanskrit and Gujarati schools was clubbed together for Sangamner, and it is not possible to calculate the castes of teachers and students in Gujarati vernacular schools. The Ahmadabad district had 928 villages, with 84 schools in 49 villages.15 The Dharwar district had 146 Marathi, 112 Kannada, seven bilingual, and five Arabic schools with 138 Brahmin, 139 Lingayat, five Hindus of different castes, and nine Muslim teachers. The Belgaum district had 60 Marathi and 26 Kannada schools16 (see Table 2.2). According to the available statistics, there was one school for 3,359 boys in Poona, one for 4,369 in Khandesh, and one for 2,452 in Dharwar district.17 The statistics for the Bombay Presidency show that the Brahmin boys studied under non-Brahmin teachers, and non-Brahmin teachers and

Table 2.2  Students in Gujarati- and Kannada-speaking areas Districts

No. of Brahmin Dominant Schools Castes – Wani, Kunbi, Rajput, Marwari, Jain, Lingayat, etc.

Veeragram 6 (140 villages) Ahmedabad 84 (928 villages) Dharwar 265 Belgaum 86

–

Artisanal Muslim Total Average No. of Caste – Students Sutar, per Mali, School Kasar, etc.

129

29

–

158 26.33

410

1,772

791

68

2,973 35.39

943 212

2,092 637

609 186

118 14

4,027 15.19 1,049 12.19

Source: General Department, No. 92, 1825.

17

INDIGENOUS SCHOOLS IN INDIA

students outnumbered Brahmins. Also, the presence of Muslim and Jewish boys along with the Hindu boys studying the Ramayana or Mahabharata in schools conducted in the Hindu temple courtyards shows religious tolerance of all the communities.18 Caste and religion were not important factors. J.D. DeVitre reported that ‘the children of Muslims and the Hindus, rich and poor, attend indiscriminately, as well as those whose calling requires knowledge of reading and writing, as those who do not.’19 In spite of the secular composition of schools, the British officials called these vernacular schools ‘Hindu’ and declared that ‘the instruction is not calculated to give to the pupils’ moral and intellectual improvement.’20

Indigenous schools in Madras Presidency Minute by Munro, 1822 The governor of Madras Presidency, Thomas Munro, initiated a survey of the indigenous education to question the dominant British notion ‘prevalent among certain sections about the ignorance of the people of India.’ In his Minute dated 25 June 1822, he called it ‘mere conjectures of individuals, unsupported by any authentic documents.’ He directed the district officers called Collectors to gather comprehensive data on the indigenous schools.21 A.D. Campbell’s report gave detailed information on indigenous education in Bellary district. Reports from other districts are not as descriptive; nonetheless, they do give data on the social composition of the students. The statistics for Nellore include 642 Telugu schools along with 106 Sanskrit; 50 Persian and Arabic; and one each of Tamil, English and Hindustani music schools.22 This makes it difficult to analyse the caste composition of students in vernacular schools for this district. The fact that, out of the 142,369 Hindu boys, 111,890 belonged to nonBrahmin castes denotes their domination in the indigenous vernacular education (see Table 2.3). The Malabar district was far advanced in comparison to other districts as it had the highest literacy rate.24 The reports also reveal the bias of the Collectors. Harris called reading, writing, and accounts ‘entirely private tuition’ and declared that ‘education is at its lowest ebb’ in Canara district.25 He told the government that he tried to establish a school in Mangalore for the wards of the rich Bunts, but they did not respond. Even after a reminder, he refused to admit that there were any schools in his district.26 Hudleston, the collector of Madura and Dindigal, reported that ‘I made some little enquiry into the state of schools in the district and I see little hope of any improvement. They say they are poor; their children are better employed in attending bullocks by which they gain a livelihood than being at school.’ He suggested the establishment of a few schools for ‘the people of caste, in Madura fort and few towns. . . . I have no doubt the head of the villages would be induced to send their children 18

698 997  1,185 – 858 918 808 3,089 1,416 358 1,186 2,230 1,693 2,466 904 783 48 3,180 2,016 1,198 4,448 30,479

884 607 790 914 11,691

Brahmin

630 875 533 – 508 763 255 574 494 305 844 759 434 804 291 386 41

No. of Schools

222 + 369* – 229 983 13,772

630 370 981 – 424 289 243  1,578 1,713 789 1,119 84 1,108 1,641 653 324 23

Vysya

10,661 2,889 7,745 1,999 75,324

4,856 7,938 2,998 – 4,809 6,379 1,001 1,923 1,775 3,056 7,247 3,697 1,506 2,407 466 1,674 298

Shudra

2,429 3,557 329 1,885 22,794

538 862 1,174 – 452 226 886 775 647 313 2,977 2,756 470 432 546 1,382 158

All Other Castes

16,861 8,462 9,501 9,315 142,369

6,722 10,167 6,338 – 6,543 7,812 2,938 7,365 5,551 4,516 12,529 8,767 4,777 6,946 2,569 4,163 527

Total Hindu Boys

933 796 690 97 10,864

552 252 243 – 186 312 257 257 341 143 1,147 3,196 275 617 52 432 86

Muslim Boys

*Kshatriya students

Source: Compiled from the information given by BR to the governor, dated 21 February 1825, Nos. 17–18, BRP, No. 1011.23

Arcot N Arcot S Bellary Canara Chengalpet Coimbatore Ganjam and Srikakulam Guntur Kadapa Madras Madura Malabar Masulipatanam Nellore Rajmundry Selam Srirangapatanam and Ganjam Tanjore Tinnevelly Tiruchirapalli Vishakapattanam Total

Districts

Table 2.3  Number of schools and students in the Madras Presidency

17,794 9,258 10,191 9,412 153,233

7,274 10,419 6,581 – 6,729 8,124 3,195 7,622 5,892 4,659 13,676 11,963 5,052 7,563 2,621 4,595 613

Total

20.12 15.25 12.90 10.29 13.10

11.54 11.90 12.22 – 13.24 10.64 12.52 13.27 11.92 15.27 16.20 15.76 11.64 9.40 9.00 11.90 14.95

Avg. per School

INDIGENOUS SCHOOLS IN INDIA

there.’27 Smalley, in Chengalpet, reported that ‘education is not in a civilised state.’28 Collectors like Campbell at Bellary and Cockburn at Selam strongly recommended state support to schools. M.D. Cockburn regretted that out of a population of 1 million only 4,650 were in schools, and urged the government to promote education.29 Minute by A. D. Campbell, 1823 Alexander Duncan Campbell (1789–1857), the Scottish Collector of Bellary district, prepared the most comprehensive report. Campbell was a scholar of Telugu and Kannada languages. The Bellary district had a population of 927,857, with a total number of 6,581 boys (6,398 Hindu and 243 Muslim) and 60 girls in its 533 schools with an average of 12 students per school. None of these schools, comprising 235 Kannada, 226 Telugu, 23 Marathi, 21 Persian, and four Tamil schools, received any state support. Besides these, there were 23 Sanskrit schools.30 The report described in detail the working of the schools: In the vernacular schools, the boys enter the school at the age of five; some of them due to poverty study for five years while others study 9–10 years. Many continue their education for 14–15 years. The schools begin at six in the morning. The punishment is severe, the idle scholar is flogged, and often suspended by both hands and a pulley to the roof, or obliged to kneel down and raise incessantly, which is a most painful and fatiguing, but a healthy mode of punishment. The schools are divided into four classes; the children begin their study by tracing the alphabet on sand boards, and move on to writing on boards (Hulligi-Halige) with pencils made of white clay substance (Bultupa-Balapa), which resemble a crayon with the exception of being rather harder. These boards are prepared in two different ways. The first kind, a regular board of three feet long and one foot wide is smeared with little rice and pulverised charcoal. In the second kind cloth stiffened with rice water, doubled into folds resembling a book and covered with a composition of charcoal and several gums. The writing on either of these boards could be effaced by a wet cloth.31 After the children learnt to write, they were taught composition, grammar, literature, arithmetic, multiplication tables, deciphering various handwritings, writing common letters, and drawing up forms of agreements. The texts used were Ramayana, Mahabharata, and Bhagavata. In addition to these, the children of the manufacturing class studied Nagalingayna Katha and Vishwakarma Poorana, and the Lingayat children studied Raghavanka Kavya, Basaveswara Purana, Unabhavamoorta, and Geerija Kalyana. 20

INDIGENOUS SCHOOLS IN INDIA

Besides these religion-based texts, Panchatantra; dictionaries like Nighantoo and Amara; and grammar texts like Shabdamani Darpana, Andhradeepika, and Andhranamasangraha were taught.32 Campbell very strongly recommended state support to the vernacular schools.33

Indigenous schools in Bengal Presidency – Adam’s Report William Adam (1796–1881) came from Dunfermline, Scotland, as a Baptist missionary in 1818. Under the influence of Rammohan Roy, he gave up the Baptist Church and became a Unitarian. Intimate knowledge of Bengali and Sanskrit languages, native culture, and sympathy with vernacular education enabled Adam to offer his assistance to governor-general Bentinck in documenting the indigenous schools. Adam began the quest ‘to know what the country needs to be done for it by Government; we must first know what the country has done and is doing for itself.’34 When Adam began his survey, there was very little accurate information available on the indigenous schools of Bengal Presidency except speculative data created by the officials sitting in Calcutta working out on paper. A member of the General Committee of Public Instruction had stated that ‘if one rupee per mensem were expanded on each existing village school in the lower provinces, the amount would probably fall little short of 12 lakhs of rupees per annum.’ This meant that there were 100,000 schools in Bengal and Bihar and a village school for every 400 persons.35 Adam rejected such speculative reports36 and also refused to rely on the missionary reports, as they ‘have religious objects in view which are foreign to the purpose of this inquiry.’37 Adam on an average spent two months in each district to collect data and interview people. The forms were prepared in Bengali, Hindi, and Urdu, and separate forms were prepared to ascertain the state of domestic and adult instruction.38 An in-depth study by an independent and meticulous observer has brought out minute details of the workings of the indigenous schools, such as the age of school-going children, religion, caste, and such other relevant information. Adam found during the enquiry that ‘the rich were more difficult to manage than the poor . . . selfishness and self-sufficiency of the rich, ignorance of the poor’ stood out as a prominent feature of the rural society. Many villages did not have a single person who was able to read and write or count, and in such villages, a house-to-house survey was conducted. In some places people were hostile; in other places, people tried to pass off a nonexistent school as a popular school. Two pundits followed Adam to Calcutta from Burdwan district to communicate the details of their schools, of which Adam could not find a trace. Whenever the people understood the object of inquiry, they were friendly.39 In Midnapore district, all Bengali teachers were Muslims, while in the Muslim majority Mymensing, all teachers were Hindus.40 Dinajpur had 119 21

INDIGENOUS SCHOOLS IN INDIA

Bengali schools with an average of 20 students per teacher. The Nadia district, which had 5,749 villages, was known for Sanskrit schools had no Bengali school. In Rangpur district 14 out of 19 subdivisions had no Bengali schools, and in the remaining five there were ten Bengali and two Persian schools. In Nattore 10 Bengali schools had 167 boys; benevolent individuals paid the salaries of teachers.41Adam reported that ‘the parents of good caste do not hesitate to send their children to schools conducted by teachers of inferior castes and even of a different religion.’42 South Bihar did not have a single Brahmin teacher, and Tirhut, the stronghold of Mythili Brahmins, had only one Brahmin teacher (see Table 2.4), and the largest chunk of 72 students was from untouchable Sunri caste43 (see Table 2.5). In Cuttack, Puri, and Balasore, Andrew Sterling’s elaborate report on these areas contains no reference to any schools.44 There is a difference between the numbers mentioned by Adam in the narrative and the caste-wise list provided. The tables are prepared on the basis of the caste-wise list of students and teachers. Since the handwritten report submitted by Adam could not be traced in the archive, this work relies on the published version. Out of 1,463 Hindu teachers, 1,255 were non-Brahmins, of whom 118 were from artisanal castes, while 17 were from untouchable castes (see Table 2.6). Table 2.4  Castes of teachers in the Bengal Presidency Castes of Teachers

Murshidabad

Birbhum

Burdwan

South Bihar

Tirhoot

Total

Kayastha Brahmin Baidya/Vaidya Kshatriya/ Rajput/Aguri Banik/Vysya Artisanal castes – Teli, Sonar, Tanti, Kurmi, Mali, Napit, etc. Untouchable castes – Sunri, Kalu, Chandal, Pasi, etc. Total Hindu teachers Muslim Total number of schools

39 14 1 4

256 86 2 3

369 107 1 30

278 – – –

77 1 – –

1,019 208 4 37

1 4

10 43

8 104

1 5

2 –

22 118

3

7

7

–

17

66

407

626

284

80

1,463

– 66

4 411

9 635

1 285

– 80

14 1,470

–

Source: Compiled from the information given in Adam’s Report, pp. 228–247.

22

Table 2.5  Castes of students in the Bengal Presidency Castes of Students Kayastha Brahmin Baidya Kshatriya Rajput, Aguri Banik/Vysya Artisanal castes – Sutar, Teli, Tanti, Napit, etc. Untouchable castes – Sunri Kalu, Dom, Chandal, etc. Total Hindu students Muslim Total

Murshidabad

Birbhum

Burdwan

South Bihar

Tirhut

Total

129 181 14 38

487 1,853 71 148

1,846 3,429 125 969

220 256 – 189

51 25 – 86

2,733 5,744 210 1,430

144 479

742 2,270

928 4,361

591 1,466

32 299

2,437 8,875

73

527

750

198

81

1,629

1,058

6,098

12,408

2,920

574

23,058

82 1,140

232 6,330

769 13,177

172 3,092

5 579

1,260 24,318

Source: Compiled from the information given in Adam’s Report, pp. 228–247.

Table 2.6 Low-caste boys in the indigenous and missionary schools in Bardaman district Low/ Untouchable Castes

Indigenous Schools

Missionary Schools

Total

Kalu Sunri Bagdhi Dom Chandal Jalia Dhoba Muchi Hari Tior Lahari Garar Kahar Mal Maitya Pasi Total

174 168 117 58 60 28 19 16 11 2 3 2 2 2 1 – 663

33 20 21 3 1 – 5 – – 2 – – – – – 1 86

207 188 138 61 61 28 24 16 11 4 3 2 2 2 1 1 749

Source: Adam’s Report, p. 242.

INDIGENOUS SCHOOLS IN INDIA

In Burdwan district four teachers taught gratuitously, consisting of one Muslim, two caste Hindus, and one from Chandal caste. The statistics for students in Bardaman comprised of both the indigenous and the missionary schools. Adam gave separate statistics for untouchable castes. Out of 23,058 Hindu students, 8,875 were from artisanal and 1,629 from untouchable castes (see Table 2.6) (traditionally considered to have had no access to education). In Birbhum, students from Gwala (cowherd) caste (560) were the second-highest, ahead of Kayastha boys (487). In the same district the untouchable Kalu caste stood sixth with 258 students. In Burdwan district, Sadgop caste, with 1,254 students, stood in third place. In Tirhut, the 72 low-caste Sunri students were far ahead of all upper-caste students.

The North-Western Provinces (NWP) The report on the state of indigenous education for the North-Western Provinces (NWP) was prepared during 1850–1851 by Henry Stuart Reid. The area corresponding to modern Uttar Pradesh was called North-Western Province as it was to the northwest of Calcutta, the seat of the British rule. Reid visited several places and also made use of the information collected by 41 subordinate officers in Agra, Aligarh, Bareli, Etawah, Farrukabad, Mainpuri, Mathura, and Shahjahanpur districts. Like other parts of India, these schools were not evenly distributed. These eight districts had 50 towns and 14,987 villages. There were 1,039 schools in these 50 towns, and 1,967 schools were scattered among 1,535 villages. Together they had 27,853 boys. There were no schools in the remaining 12,987 villages. The vernacular schools consisted of five Urdu schools with 49 boys, 55 bilingual Urdu-Hindi schools, 1,259 Hindi schools with 10,009 boys, and 233 bilingual Hindi-Sanskrit schools with 2,845 boys, where some instruction in Sanskrit was given to boys studying Hindi. These schools had 1,821 (58 per cent) Hindu and 1,311 (42 per cent) Muslim teachers. Among the Hindu teachers, 46.4 per cent were Kayasthas, 43.9 per cent were Brahmin, 1.7 per cent were Rajput, 1.8 per cent were Bania, and 6 per cent belonged to artisanal castes. In Agra, Aligarh, and Mathura, the Brahmin teachers were predominant, and in other districts, it was the Kayasthas. The figures for Brahmin teachers contain both the Sanskrit schools, Hindi and bilingual Hindi-Sanskrit schools. It is difficult to say how many Brahmin teachers taught Hindi alone.45 The Sanskrit teachers were called Panditji and Guruji. In the vernacular schools Brahmin teachers were called Misrji; Kayastha teachers were addressed as Lalaji and Bhayaji. The teachers from the barber caste were called Nai Pandhe.46 Of the 21,342 Hindu boys, 6,614 were Brahmins, 10,429 non-Brahmin upper castes, and 4,299 lower-caste boys. There were 5,491 Muslim students. The number for Brahmin and Muslim students includes those who were in Sanskrit and Arabic schools.47 24

INDIGENOUS SCHOOLS IN INDIA

Indigenous education in Punjab The British conquered Punjab in 1849, and the report on the state of indigenous education was prepared in 1853. In Punjab, the official language of the Sikh rulers was Persian, and the Persian schools dominated indigenous education, along with Sanskrit, Arabic, the Sikh religious schools which taught Granth Saheb in Gurumukhi, and the Lande schools which taught bookkeeping to children of traders. The Persian schools were attended by the boys of all the three communities, and the Hindu Khatri boys outnumbered all others. Arnold reported that the Hindus were so fond of Persian literature that often thieves and murderers lured Hindu boys who wore gold earrings on the pretext of helping them to read popular Persian texts like Gulistan and Bostan. Arnold reported that the ‘teaching profession was virtually in the hands of Muslims and it is remarkable that their schools were largely attended by Hindus.’48 The indigenous education in Punjab differed from that in other parts of India in three aspects. First, women were present both as students and teachers, and there was no prejudice against educating them. Second, there were instances of the entire community contributing to the maintenance of schools. Third, cash payments, and sometimes regular salaries, were given to the teachers.49

An estimate of indigenous vernacular schools The relationship between the local administration and the indigenous vernacular schools was virtually nonexistent. The kings neither gave financial assistance nor patronised any school even though the latter supplied officers for the administration. These schools were open to almost all castes and religions. Brahmin, Prabhu, Jew, Muslim, potter, ironsmith, and shepherd boys studied in the Hindu temple courtyards. Similarly, non-Brahmin and Muslim teachers taught Brahmin and non-Brahmin boys. In South Bihar, all Brahmin students studied under non-Brahmin teachers. The untouchable castes had access to schools in Bengal Presidency, while they were absent in Bombay Presidency, and it is difficult to derive any information from the data on ‘all other castes’ in the Madras Presidency. The castes of teachers differed from place to place. The Baidyas and Kayasths outnumbered the Brahmins as teachers in Bengal, Bihar, and NWP. In Marathi and Gujarati-speaking districts of the Bombay Presidency, Brahmins were ahead of Wanis and Prabhus, and in Madras Presidency the majority of teachers were Vellalar, followed by Brahmins, Nairs, and Pillais. In Karnataka, the Lingayat teachers outnumbered Brahmins. Baidya, Kayasth, Wanee, and Lingayat students outnumbered Brahmin students in the whole of northern India, Gujarat, and Karnataka. Brahmin students, followed by Prabhu, Modaliar, Nair, and Pillai, dominated schools in Maharashtra and Madras Presidencies. There were teachers from what the British officers called ‘half-caste.’50 25

INDIGENOUS SCHOOLS IN INDIA

The schools were not held in a permanently designated place. They were held in the houses of masters or a house belonging to a rich person, temples, and sheds. None of these single-teacher schools had a fixed building designated for teaching. Of the 86 schools in Konkan, 28 were held in temples and the rest in private dwellings or sheds. The number of students also differed considerably. The smallest school, with two students, was in Konkan, while the largest, with 150 students, was in Kaira town in Gujarat. On average, a school consisted of 10 to 20 students. There were many schools with 35 to 45 students.

Income of the teachers The village community did not hire the teachers, so there was no regular income. If the teacher found his income dwindling, he would move elsewhere, and the school would close down. He was paid by the parents or the guardians of the students he taught. In Bengal, students paid 2 to 8 annas per month and food articles for a day’s requirement. Rupees, annas, and pice were units of currencies used across India. An anna was worth 4 pice, and a rupee was worth 16 annas. In Bengal, teachers instructed even those students who could not pay. In Bihar, Adam did not find any instances of free instruction even though the people were poorer than those in Bengal.51 One possible reason could be the difference in the income of the teachers. The average income of a teacher in Bengal was 3 rupees, 12 annas, and 3 pice per month; in Bihar, it was 1 rupee, 12 anna, and 9 pice per month.52 In Bombay it was 6 rupees per month with some gifts.53 In Punjab it was two rupees and eight annas. Many teachers taught for free ‘from a desire to devote themselves to the service of god.’54 In Gujarat, during marriages and important festivals, the teachers received small amounts of cash as presents.55 In Malabar, the schoolmasters received a monthly fee from each student of four annas to 4 rupees.56 Throughout India, in addition to the regular fee, the schoolmasters received a certain measure of grain and other agricultural produce during festivals, or in some places, regularly. This income from kind was not in lieu of cash. For instance, Surat district had 139 schools with 3,000 students. The average yearly earnings of the 139 schoolmasters were 5,052 rupees and 2 annas, while the flour they received was valued at an estimated 915 rupees and 1 anna.57 So, each master received 36.34 rupees in cash and 6.58 rupees’ worth of flour a year. In Marathi and Kannada speaking areas of the Bombay Presidency, the students paid a monthly fee of 1 or 2 annas, while in Gujarat the amount was paid on occasion of a boy’s progress. When the boy commence[s] learning, two-quarters of a rupee is given to the teacher. On a boy commencing to learn the formation of letter one rupee is given. The scholar besides these payments 26

INDIGENOUS SCHOOLS IN INDIA

daily presents the teacher with one-quarter of a seer of grain. When a boy becomes perfect in reading, writing and is dismissed by the tutor, two to five rupee is given. Children of the Hindu, Muslim and Parsi priests were exempt from it. At a school in Jambusar in Broach district, the masters received an annual payment of 30 to 50 rupees in cash. The allowances to the schoolmasters were paid by the parents or friends of the scholars.58 In the NWP, of the 3,127 teachers, 460 imparted gratuitous instructions. Most of the teachers got anywhere from 1 to 5 rupees per month, and a small part of it was in kind. This income was lower than ‘the pay received by grass cutter.’59 In many places in Punjab regular salaries were paid to the teachers. In Talwandi district, it was 1 rupee and 2 annas, while in Lahore and Kasur it was as high as 7 rupees and 8 annas to 8 rupees and 8 annas per month.60 In Madras Presidency, Srirangapattana had 41 schools, and the boys paid 5 annas per month, leading to an annual income for each teacher of 57 rupees, 5 annas, and 5 pice.61 In Coimbatore, the parents paid anywhere from 3 to 14 rupees per year per child. They also gave gifts during Duserra and also when the children began a new book.62 In Vishakapattanam the boys paid anywhere from 1 anna to 1 rupee per month.63 In Rajmundry it was from 2 annas to 1 rupee. In this district of 1,200 villages, only 207 had schools.64 In Chengalput, a schoolmaster earned anywhere from three and a half to 12 rupees a month. The average earning was around 7 rupees.65 The difference in the school fee was based on the ability of the parents to pay: A rich family paid more to the teacher than the poor one. The rich families in all castes sponsored poor students by paying their fee. These schools enjoyed no government support granted by earlier governments, entirely supported by parents of the scholars.66 The collector of Masulipatanam reported that, on average, a boy attending a Telugu school spent 6 annas per month on ‘paper, cadjans, and books.’67 The monthly fee paid by each scholar varied from 4 to 8 annas. Teachers, in general, did not earn more than 6 or 7 rupees a month, which Munro considered ‘not an allowance sufficient to induce men properly qualified to follow the profession.’68

The curriculum The indigenous schools cannot be dismissed as village schools, which have a connotation of providing rudimentary literacy to peasant children. The indigenous schools across India gave a very high level of literacy and ­numeracy to all boys. For instance, a boy in an indigenous school in Malabar 27

INDIGENOUS SCHOOLS IN INDIA

in 1708 pointed out problems with the argument of renowned missionary Bartholomaus Ziegenbalg.69 There was no visible difference in the standard of instruction between rural and urban schools. The bright students from these schools who entered modern schools could master ‘cube root, four books of Euclid, and Algebra up to division’ within a year and answer difficult questions ‘with astonishing rapidity.’70 In indigenous schools, the writing was taught first and reading later. On the first day, the students began tracing the vowels and consonants with fingers on a sandboard. In the next stage, they wrote on plantain leaves and wooden boards. In the Bengal Presidency, the Bengali schools used plantain leaves, while the Hindi schools used wooden boards. Wooden boards were used in South India too, and Campbell’s Report explains the process of preparing such boards. They were prepared by dipping a stiff white cloth in rice starch and drying it, repeating the process several times until a very stiff cloth was obtained. It was then dipped in a solution of charcoal and gum and dried again. It was then fixed to a wooden board and a steatite pencil or a white crayon was used to write on them. They were next instructed to write on palm leaf with a reed pen held in the fist, not with the fingers, with ink made of charcoal, which rubbed out, joining vowels to consonants to form compound letters, syllables, and words. Next, the boys learnt tables of numeration; money; weights and measures; and the correct mode of writing the distinctive names of persons, castes, and places. This was the curriculum during the first year of schooling. In the second year, the boys advanced to arithmetic and the use of plantain leaf, on which they wrote with ink made of lamp-black. This continued for about six months, during which they were taught addition, subtraction, multiplication and division, as well as the simplest cases of the mensuration of land, commercial, and agricultural accounts along with the modes of address proper in writing letters to different persons. In the final stage, the boys were further instructed in agricultural and commercial accounts, and the more advanced boys wrote popular poetical compositions.71 The boys began by practising on sand boards and then moved up to palm and plantain leaves, and the most advanced boys used paper for writing. In Burdwan district, Adam found that, of 12,408 students, only 702 wrote on sand board, 7,113 wrote on palm leaves, 2,765 wrote on plantain leaves, and 2,610 students used paper. In South Bihar, the students did not use leaves. Here, 1,560 students wrote on sand boards, 1,503 wrote on wooden boards, 42 wrote on brazen plate, and 39 wrote on paper.72 In the NWP, black ‘writing boards 18 inches long by 9 inch broad were in universal use.’ They were made of wood blackened by charred coconut shell pounded and mixed with water. There were also red, and green painted wooden boards. They were called takhti in Persian schools and patti in Hindi schools. 28

INDIGENOUS SCHOOLS IN INDIA

These boards could be bought for one anna in the markets. The chalks used to write on these boards were called batti. They were made of white earth called pindaol pounded and mixed up with water, then rolled between hands into proper shape and dried for use.73 The books used for teaching vernacular consisted of episodes from either the Ramayana or the Mahabharata. Most of them were related to the birth of Rama, the boyish amusement of Krishna, his friendship with Sudhama, or the generosity of Karna. In Bihar books like Sundar Kanda, Dadhilila, Sudam Charitra, Sundar Sudam, and Data Karna were used to teach the language, while no arithmetic was taught.74 In Bengal, the curriculum consisted of the arithmetic of Shubhankar, Chanakya, Amara Kosha, and Kasiram Das’s Mahabharata.75 In Bombay, Punchopaikyan and Vidhurniti were taught in Marathi schools; in Karnataka, Someshwara Shataka and Jaimini Bharata, written by a sixteenth-century Kannada poet, Lakshmisha, were taught. The Amara Kosha (dictionary) was taught across India. Kural was used to teach Tamil but information on Malayalam texts used in the indigenous school is not available. Many schools used manuscripts to teach, while in others, the teacher taught from memory. There was an absence of printed books. Sometimes very rare manuscripts were used. In Karnataka, there were instances of printed books being used for teaching students at a higher level.76 Here the teachers were ‘men of higher attainment, as they were expected to teach books in both prose and poetry.’77 In Gujarat, arithmetic was emphasised, but this was absent in neighbouring Marathi speaking areas. Students were taught to ‘cast up accounts and to draw out bills of exchange.’ Gujarati children learnt multiplication tables first and then the alphabet, while it was the opposite for the rest of India. The indigenous schools lacked teaching aids and material for teaching. The method of instruction was both written and oral. The written part consisted of tracing letters and doing arithmetic on sand boards, while the multiplication tables were taught orally; verse was taught through ‘chorus recital.’ The boys and teachers used every available written material they could lay their hands on to teach and learn. In the Marathi-speaking areas of the Bombay Presidency, these consisted of letters of officials, such as Mamlatdars, and even village accounts.78 The curriculum was more or less common across India. In some places, writing and composition were emphasised over accounts, but the overall competency of the students remained the same. Punishment was severe, and caning was prevalent and widespread.79 In Bengal, the schoolmaster beat the boys for not learning the lessons.80 In Bellary district, Campbell reported that an ‘idle scholar is flogged, and often suspended by both hands and a pulley to the roof, or obliged to kneel down and rise incessantly, which is most painful and fatiguing.’81 In the NWP, punishments included slapping the face, tying a student’s hands behind his neck, and weighing down a student’s head with all the writing boards of the school.82 29

INDIGENOUS SCHOOLS IN INDIA

School timings The schools functioned from 6 a.m. to 7 or 8 p.m. with two breaks in between. The three sessions consisted of 6 a.m. to 9 or 10 a.m., 10 or 11 a.m. to 1 or 2 p.m., and 2 or 3 p.m. to 7 or 8 p.m. There were four holidays per month – full moon, new moon, and the day after each. The schools were closed during important festivals throughout the year.83 The NWP had more holidays.84 In Vishakapattanam, Cuddalore, and Guntur districts, the schools functioned until 8 p.m.85 It is surprising that all these are on the east coast, where the sun sets early, and that the schools functioned beyond sunset. Since the reading was done in the evening in all the schools, oil lamps must have been used. The collector of Guntur gave the detailed schedule of the schoolboys in a day. The boys came to the school at 6 a.m., practised reading, and returned home at 9 a.m. for morning meal. They returned to school before 11 a.m., practiced writing till 2 or 3, went to their respective homes to eat their rice, and returned by 4 p.m. They practiced reading, again, until 7 in the evening.86 The students who attended classes were very regular. In Murshidabad district, Adam found that only 18 were absent out of 998 Hindu students and that four were absent among 82 Muslim students. In South Bihar, out of 2,839 Hindu students, only 14 were absent.87 Boys began school at around 6 or 7 years of age, and ‘clever boys completed their education in four years; those of medium talent, six years; and the dunces (if any), eight years.’88 Most of the boys spent on average five to seven years in school.

Institutions of higher learning The Sanskrit schools Sanskrit schools existed across India. In most instances, they were individual schools conducted by a Brahmin teacher, and there were also clusters of such schools, such as Banaras and Nadia. These schools were called tols in Bengal and pathasalas in other parts. They taught Sanskrit grammar, Vedas, Nyaya, Dharmasastras, poetry, and astronomical works. The students studied for a minimum of 12 to 13 years, and admission was limited in most cases to Brahmin boys. In Bengal and Kerala, non-Brahmins, too, studied Sanskrit. The teaching was free. The earliest report available for these schools in Bengal was prepared around 1811, when governor-general Minto wanted to establish a Sanskrit college at Nadia. According to the report, there were ‘46 Sanskrit schools with 380 Brahmin boys all aged between 25–35 years. Few commenced their learning before the age of 21 but often pursued for 15 years. Having acquired a perfect knowledge of the shastra and all its arcane, they returned to their native homes, and set up as pundits and teachers themselves.’89 When Adam visited Nadia in 1836, 30

INDIGENOUS SCHOOLS IN INDIA

he found only 25 tols with classrooms consisting of a thatched chamber for the pundit and students, and two or three rows of mudhovels in which the students resided. The pundit did not live with the students; he came in the morning and stayed until sunset. The pundit was responsible for food and clothing for the students and repairs of the huts from the land grants he had received from earlier rulers.90 The Sanskrit pundits were divided into three categories – sabdikas, the lowest class, philologers or teachers of general literature; smartas, the next highest class, teachers of law; and naiyayikas, the highest class, teachers of logic. The people of the village, during funeral obsequies, marriages, and festivals, gave dana, or gifts, consisting of ‘articles of consumption and cash to these pundits . . . amounting to on an average of 11 rupees a month.’ Many times these pundits managed to get only 2 rupees, and there were also occasions when they got 30 rupees in a month.91 Adam reported that, in Rajshahi, only two Sanskrit pundits out of 39, had an endowment to run their schools. The pundit at Basudevpur, Srinatha Survabhauma, had an endowment of 8 rupees per year; Kalinatha Vachaspati, at Samaskhalasi, had an endowment of 60 rupees per year. Both of them taught Sanskrit grammar, and these endowments were instituted by Rani Bhawani (1716–1795), a widow who managed the estate of her husband. Another four endowments that existed earlier had been discontinued, and Adam recommended their reinstatement.92 In Natore, 39 pundits (37 Brahmin and two Baidya) were un-endowed, and Adam stated that ‘there are materials for a Hindu University in which all the branches of Sanskrit learning might be taught.’ The ages of pundits ranged from 25 to 82 years. Adam was impressed with their Humbleness and simplicity of their characters, their dwellings, and their apparel, forcible contrast with the extent of their acquirements . . . several of these men are adepts in the subtleties of the profoundest grammar of what is probably the most philosophical language in existence . . . familiar with all the varieties and applications of their national laws, and literature; and indulging in the abstruse and most interesting disquisitions in logical and ethical philosophy. . . . I have observed some of the worthiest speak with unaffected humility of their own pretensions to learning, with admiration of the learning of a stranger.93 These 39 schools at Natore had 397 boys, some of them were local boys who resided in the village, while others came from outside. The latter group was housed with the pundit, who took care of ‘food and minor personal expenses.’ The students joined these schools from the ages of 7 to 14 years and left the school after completing 13 years of studies; some of them went on to study for 22 years.94 In Murshidabad, the 24 Sanskrit schools maintained by 24 teachers had 152 Brahmin and one Kayastha student. These 31

INDIGENOUS SCHOOLS IN INDIA

24 teachers received 123 rupees per year as gifts which were ‘at such uncertain intervals.’ One of the teachers had a government pension of 5 rupees per year, and another had a 10 bigha endowment of land yielding around 10 rupees per year. Several endowments given by Rani Bhavani were for life, and with the death of a teacher, they were discontinued.95 So if a student of a teacher continued the school, he did not inherit the endowment. In Beerbhoom, there were 56 Sanskrit schools with 57 Brahmin and one Baidya teacher, and each one of them on average earned 53 rupees per year. These schools had 393 students and were conducted in the halls of individuals (baithak-khanas), temples (chandi mantaps), and schoolhouses built by teachers themselves. The students of 21 schools received nothing in the form of presents, and the remaining 35 school students received 252 rupees per year.96 In Burdwan, there were 190 Sanskrit schools with as many teachers. Four of these teachers were Baidyas, and the rest were Brahmins and their average income was 63 rupees per year. The students of 105 schools did not receive any gifts, and the remaining 85 schools received 391 rupees per year as gifts. The teachers here were not just instructors but also authors, having composed works in Sanskrit.97 The 27 Sanskrit schools of South Bihar had an annual income of 370 rupees each, and about half of the teachers had themselves built schoolhouses. These schools had 437 students and ‘a majority of them were supported by family-funds.’ In Tirhoot, there were 56 Sanskrit schools with 214 students, and 50 schools received an annual gift of 50 rupees each. Six teachers supported their school ‘from the resources of their own families, or supported themselves from farming.’ Two of the teachers had built school buildings. The students of each school received occasional gifts amounting to 50 rupees per year.98 The data available for Bombay Presidency is not as elaborate as that for Bengal Presidency. One possible reason could be that Elphinstone, who initiated the survey, was keen on the status of vernacular schools. So, the reports concentrate on vernacular schools rather than the teachers, students, and curriculum of Sanskrit and Arabic schools. In Surat there were 18 Sanskrit schools with 66 boys.99 The officer in Dharwar reported that ‘there are Brahmins who taught Vedas, Shastras and Puranas gratis.’100 Khandesh had 37 schools which taught Vedas to 486 boys, 17 schools taught Jyotish (Hindu astrology) to 52, six schools taught Vaidya, or medicine, to 11, and six schools taught shastras to 52 boys. In Poona City, 51 schools taught Vedas, and the boys studied anywhere from 10 to 20 years. Astrology was taught in ten schools; the Vedanta, in two; the Mimansa, in one; the Dharmasastras, in four; logic, in seven; grammar, in ten; and poetry, in four.101 In the Madras Presidency, the North Arcot district had 69 schools, consisting of 43 Vedic schools with 298 boys; 117 boys studied Dharmasastras in 24 schools; and three boys studied astrology in two schools.102 The 51 Sanskrit schools of Chengalput had 398 boys.103 Coimbatore district 32

INDIGENOUS SCHOOLS IN INDIA

had 179 Sanskrit schools, 94 of which taught theologies; 69, law; and ten, astronomy. Together, they had 724 Brahmin students. Some of the schools had land grants, and others did not have any support. The 25 Sanskrit schools with 138 boys in Karur had no financial support, while ten schools with 92 boys at Sattemangalam had an annual income of 1,409 rupees.104 Madura district had Agrahara villages where the Vedas and Puranas were taught. They had land grants yielding 20–50 rupees (fanams) per year.105 Tanjore had 109 Sanskrit schools with 769 boys.106 Trichinopoly district had ten Sanskrit schools with 131 boys.107 Selam had 53 Sanskrit colleges with 324 boys.108 In Masulipattanam district, 11 Sanskrit schools with 66 boys taught Vedas, 30 schools with 150 boys taught law, and eight astronomy schools had 35 boys.109 Rajamundry had 279 Sanskrit schools with 1,454 boys. The collector reported that the quality of education was not high, and 1,033 boys studying the Vedas were ‘barely taught to perform ceremonies.’ Of 1,200 villages, only 207 had schools. The Brahmin boys here spent 5–7 years of learning. In spite of that, 69 teachers had land grants, and 13 had money grants given by former zamindars. One teacher was supported by a scholar, while 196 teachers taught Sanskrit gratis.110 Guntur had 171 places where theology, law, astronomy, etc.were taught to 939 boys.111 In Srikakulam and Ganjam there were no Sanskrit schools. The boys were educated by their fathers or brothers or by any other relations.112 Malabar had a very large Sanskrit school with 75 Brahmin boys, built by the Zamorin Raja.113 Malabar was far more advanced than other areas. It had 18 Vysya, 176 Shudra, and 496 boys from other castes studying astrology in Sanskrit. There were also three Brahmin girls studying law, five Vysya, 19 Shudra, and 14 other caste girls studied astrology.114 In the NWP, there were 205 Sanskrit schools with 2,845 boys who studied religious texts, grammar, astronomy, astrology, poetry, logic, mathematics, and medicine.115 We do not have disaggregated data for this region. Table 2.7  Students in Sanskrit schools in Malabar Brahmin Brahmin Vysya Vysya Shudra Shudra All Boys Girls Boys Girls Boys Girls Other Caste Boys Theology/ Vedas Astronomy Ethics Ayurveda Metaphysics

All Muslim Other Caste Girls

471

3

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

78 22 31 34

– – – –

18 – – –

5 – – –

176 –  59 –

19 – – –

490 31 100 31

14 – – –

– – 4 –

Source: Vaughan to BR, 5 August 1823, No 51.

33

INDIGENOUS SCHOOLS IN INDIA

An assessment of Sanskrit schools Sanskrit pundits and temple priests were two distinct categories: Pundits did not work as priests in temples, and priests did not teach Sanskrit. Sanskrit schools were single-teacher schools, teaching only one branch of knowledge. Sanskrit pundits were well respected in the society, but it did not translate into power or wealth. Sanskrit teaching was not a hereditary occupation, and often it was not the son of a pundit but his student who continued the school. The boys usually commenced the study of Sanskrit at about 12 years of age, and sometimes they were as old as 21. In Bengal, the Sanskrit schools teaching grammar, literature, astrology, and medicine were open to all castes; however, the studying of Vedas, Dharmasastras, and ­Darsanas was limited to Brahmins boys alone. Both the teachers as well as the students were extremely poor. A Sanskrit pundit earned less than that of an agricultural labourer.116 Since tradition demanded that he could not charge a fee for imparting knowledge, his condition was miserable. Adam strongly recommended financial support to these schools. Adam reported that ‘there was no mutual connection or dependence between vernacular and Sanskrit schools. The former are not considered preparatory to the other, nor do the latter profess to complete the course of study which has been begun elsewhere.’117 Arabic schools The Arabic schools, called Madrasas, mostly attached to large mosques, existed across India. They taught the Arabic language, grammar, the Koran, and Islamic law. In Bengal, Murshidabad and Birbhum had two Madrasas each. The Burdwan district had eight Madrasas. South Bihar had 12, and Tirhut had four. The Arabic schools were held in dedicated school ­buildings. A Madrasa building in Burdwan was estimated at 50,000 rupees. The Madrasas also had large endowments. Some of the Arabic teachers ‘possessed considerable property personal and endowed.’118 They gave free instruction and sometimes food and clothing to many poor students. The NWP had 120 Arabic schools with 908 boys and 157 bilingual ArabicPersian schools with 1,284 boys.119 The Persian schools The Persian schools taught the Persian language; grammar; letter-­writing; and literary texts, such as Pandnameh, Gulistan, Bostan, Joseph and Zuleikha, Asafi, Sekandar Nameh (life of Alexander), Bahar-i-Danish, and Allami, consisting of correspondences between Akbar and Abul Fazl. The Persian teachers had regular monthly salaries and received a fee from students. Their income from both salary and fee ranged from 6 to 8 rupees per 34

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month. Some of the Persian Schools had buildings, but many of them were conducted in ‘out-houses, baithak-khanas, chandi mandaps and katcheris.’ The majority of Persian teachers were Muslims, while a large number of students were Hindus. There were 2,141 Hindu and 1,417 Muslim students in Bengal and Bihar. Adam stated that ‘those Musalmans and Hindus who have received a Persian education have nearly the same command of Persian as a written language that educated Englishmen have of their mother tongue.’ After they left the schools ‘they continue to read the Persian works and use it for private correspondence with friends.’120 South Bihar and Tirhoot had 279 and 234 Persian schools respectively. All Persian teachers were Muslims with the exception of a Kayastha teacher in each district. The South Bihar Persian schools had 1,424 students; of them 865 were Hindus, and 559 were Muslims.121 The NWP had 1,257 Persian schools with 8,503 boys. The majority of teachers were Muslims and Kayasthas, while there were also a small number of Persian teachers from Brahmin, Rajput, Banias, and artisanal castes.122

Arabic and Persian schools in Bombay and Madras Presidencies The number of Arabic and Persian schools was small in the Bombay and the Madras Presidencies. The Muslims formed 3 per cent of the total population Table 2.8  The caste of students in Persian schools in the Bengal Presidency Districts

Murshidabad Birbhum Burdwan South Bihar Tirhut Total

No. of Schools 17 Brahmin 27 Kayastha 15 Baidya – Kshatriya 4 Banik/Vysya 2 Artisanal 9 Castes, Kurmi, Napit, Mali, Sutar, etc. Vaishnava – Untouchable 4 Castes – Sunri Kaibarta Total Hindu 61 Muslim 41 Total 102

71 111 83 10 1 12 13

93 153 172 4 46 10 58

279 11 711 – 44 11 107

234 30 349 – 33 1 10

694 332 1,330 14 128 36 197

2 13

–

5

57 3

20 –

79 25

245 240 485

448 451 899

944 559 1,503

443 126 569

2,141 1,417 3,558

Source: Compiled from the information given in Adam’s Report, pp. 277–290.

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in the Bombay Presidency (prior to the annexation of Sindh in 1843); while they represented only 5 per cent of the total population in Madras ­Presidency.123 Most of the Muslims spoke Gujarati, Marathi, Konkani, Kannada, Telugu, Tamil, and Malayalam languages, used Arabic for reading the Koran, and most of them were not familiar with Persian. The use of Persian was confined to the court of the Nawab of Arcot. In Surat District, there were 20 Arabic schools with 471 boys, where they were taught to recite the Koran. In Surat town, the Bohra Muslim community maintained a large Arabic Madrassa with 125 boys at an annual cost of 32,000 rupees. The teachers received from students on average 8 rupees, 14 anna, and 1 pice per month. A few poor students studied without paying anything to the teacher.124 T.B. Jervis reported that ‘in Arabic schools, the teacher taught every child as in English schools and in large schools, the more advanced boys assisted the teacher.’125 However, he does not say how many were there in South Konkan district. In Dharwar, there were five schools where Persian and Hindustani were taught.126 Chaplin reported that 19 Arabic and Persian schools taught 65 Mussalman boys in Khandesh.127 The Madras Presidency, too, exhibited a similar trend. North Arcot, which was under the rule of the Nawabs, had 40 Persian schools with 374 boys and nine girls.128 In Masulipattanam the 19 Persian schools had 236 Muslim boys and two Muslim girls.129 Coimbatore district also had 10 Persian schools with 312 boys in it.130 The collector of Salem reported that ‘the yearly charge to the Hindu students is not less than three rupees a year while for the Musselman students the charge amounted to fifteen to twenty rupees.’131 So the cost of acquiring Persian and Arabic education was also one of the probable causes that prevented parents from aspiring to it. In Bombay and Madras Presidencies, the languages of the court and administration were Gujarati, Marathi, Kannada, Telugu, and Tamil. So Muslims sent their boys to the local vernacular schools along with Hindu, Parsi, and Christian boys and used Arabic for religious purposes. The knowledge of Arabic, the Koran, and Islamic law were taught by local priests to a few Muslim boys in the local Madrassa.

Recommendations William Adam recommended that the indigenous schoolmasters should receive financial support from the government to ‘raise their economic position’ as ‘better remuneration would attract better talent.’ He drew the attention of the government to the poverty of masters and concluded that the government alone can act in this matter and urged the government to extensively establish vernacular schools across Bengal Presidency.132 In spite of the overwhelming presence of non-Brahmin teachers and students in the indigenous vernacular schools across India, a number of 36

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government officials recommended the appointment of Brahmins alone as teachers and urged the government to encourage the Brahmins, Rajputs, and landed gentry to take up education. Jervis argued that ‘the curriculum taught in vernacular schools is altogether useless to nine-tenths of children’ and recommended limiting education to Brahmins alone ‘for the security of our own government . . . we need some more powerful and innate restraint than the force of arms.’133 Judge of Ahmedabad, who compiled the data insisted that only Brahmins should be appointed as teachers because a scholar is required highly to venerate his instructor and on several occasions to prostrate himself before him, and it would therefore be very inconsistent for the son of a Brahmin to do this, to any person of an inferior caste.134 In the vernacular schools, the students did not prostrate before their teachers. It was practised occasionally in Sanskrit schools. The British officers recommended the practice of the Sanskrit schools into vernacular to deny the non-Brahmins teaching position. This is confirmed by the example provided by them. The Hindoo religion attaches so much importance between a young Brahmin and his guru or spiritual teacher, the person from whom he learns to read and explain the Vedas and Shastras; a connection, the sole object of which is to qualify him for the priestly function, and for that of an expounder of the law.135 Many other officials too eulogised the Brahmin teachers or gurus. Denying teaching position to non-Brahmins was a well thought out strategy of the British officers. William Adam, Thomas Munro, and other Scottish officers did not recommend it, in fact, they opposed it.

Indigenous schools during the British rule The indigenous schools did not disappear during the British rule; on the contrary, the British government followed a policy of incorporation. The colonial state appreciated the ‘uniformity of character of the indigenous schools in spite of linguistic and religious diversities’ and declared it as ‘the foundation of national education.’136 The economic criterion was the chief factor for incorporating the indigenous schools. T.B. Macaulay had fixed the salaries of Indian teachers between 30 and 50 rupees a month.137 The colonial state was unwilling to pay this amount, which was in addition to the cost of establishing new schools. So the government gave a month’s training to the existing indigenous teachers to teach geography, explain maps, maintain attendance registers, and submit annual reports for a monthly salary of 37

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five rupees. In this way, it created thousands of government primary schools without any major investment. Until the 1860s the government vernacular primary schools across India, except in Bombay and Punjab provinces, were merely indigenous schools with an attendance register and a small government salary for the teacher.138 The government classified indigenous schools into four categories: the ‘Stipendiary Pathsalas,’ where the teacher got 5 rupees a month; ‘Rewarded Pathsalas,’ in which the educational inspector examined the students once a year and rewarded the teachers depending upon examination results; ‘Registered Pathsalas,’ where the indigenous teacher just submitted annual returns for 1 rupee; and ‘indigenous Pathsalas,’ which ‘stood aloof from any interaction with the government.’139 In the five districts of the NWP for which the data is available, there were 1,389 indigenous schools with 18,299 boys on the eve of the Indian Revolt of 1857, and of them 760 schools were destroyed (see Table 2.9). Many teachers of Stipendiary Pathsalas whose monthly salary had risen to 10 rupees got a government pension.140 By 1882, out of 84,740 government primary schools, almost 70,000 schools were indigenous schools adopted by the colonial state.141 While incorporating the indigenous schools, the British privileged Brahmin teachers over others; as a result, by the end of the nineteenth century, most of the schoolteachers came to be Brahmins. The policy of incorporation was also motivated by the fact that the colonial state had to furnish annual returns to the Court of Directors as well as to the British Parliament at the time of the renewal of the charter of the East India Company (EIC). For as little as 1 rupee per school, the colonial state could get statistics for thousands of schools and pass them off as government schools. In Bengal and North India, government-supported indigenous schools were called by various names, such as Halkabandi (Circle), Government Vernacular Schools, Lower Primary Schools, and Government Pathshalas, and these survived well into the twentieth century. Thousands of indigenous schools also continued in their original form without any connection with the government. The modernisation of administration, which

Table 2.9  Number of indigenous schools before and after the Indian Revolt of 1857 Districts

1856/57 Schools

1856/57 Boys

1857/58 Schools

1857/58 Boys

Agra Etawah Farrukhabad Mathura Mainpuri Total

430 80 429 260 190 1,389

7,980 988 4,071 2,780 2,480 18,299

150 16 187 160 116 629

1,976 153 1,479 1,648 1,077 6,333

Source: Report on the Popular Education in the NWP for 1856–57, 57–58, p. 27.

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required literacy on the part of the people, and the government’s unwillingness to invest in education made these schools popular in the rural areas. The Indian Education Commission during 1881–1882 interviewed many indigenous schoolmasters.142 In Bombay, Mountstuart Elphinstone insisted that Brahmins alone should be appointed as teachers, and since the majority of teachers in the indigenous schools were non-Brahmins, he established a series of new government primary schools with Brahmin teachers to teach the indigenous curriculum. Still, the number of indigenous schools in their original form went up in Bombay from 1,716 in 1847 to 3,330 in 1875.143 There was Association of Indigenous School Masters, which held a conference and submitted a memorial to the Indian Education Commission.144 In Punjab, since the government changed the medium of instruction from Persian and Punjabi to Urdu, it had to establish new schools, as none of the indigenous schoolmasters knew Urdu. In Bengal, North India, and Central Provinces, though, many Indians opted for modern education, yet thousands of boys went to purely indigenous schools in 1881, as can be seen in Table 2.10. During 1845–1881, the Bengal government adopted 48,834 indigenous schools. Still, there were 3,265 indigenous schools with 49,238 boys in the original form. In the Central Provinces, of the 1,344 indigenous schools, 1,261 had been made into government vernacular schools, while only 83 remained purely indigenous. In Assam, 1,351 schools received government support, while only 497 remained purely indigenous. The Commission gave a list of twelve recommendations regarding, recognising, and registering the indigenous schools and imparting training to its masters.145 Critical analysis of thousands of indigenous schools upturn the popular theories that the indigenous education was oral, informal, and Brahmin

Table 2.10  The number of indigenous schools and students in 1881–1882 Provinces Madras Bombay Bengal NWP and Awadh Punjab Central Provinces Assam Coorg Hyderabad Assigned Districts Total

No. of Indigenous Schools

No. of Students

Avg.No. of Students per School

2,828 3,924 3,265 6,712 6,362 83 497 41 207

54,064 79,000 49,238 61,634 86,023 3,148 9,233 470 2,672

19.11 20.13 20.13 9.18 13.52 37.92 18.57 2.27 12.90

17,557

345,482

19.67

Source: The Report of the Indian Education Commission, 67–69.

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dominated as well as the argument that the British destroyed the indigenous schools. In India, dissenting Vaishnavism was widespread. This tradition, along with heterodox Jaina, Veerasaiva, and Sikh traditions, used vernacular for communicating religious knowledge. For instance, for a Vaishnava Brahmin boy residing in Kannada-speaking areas, the ability to read, recite, and explain Hari Kathamrita Sara – the Kannada version of the Bhagavata text by Jagannatha Dasa, an eighteenth-century saint – was the ultimate acquisition of religious knowledge and the road to popularity in the region. Similarly, for a Veerasaiva boy, it was the Basaveshwara Purana and the vachanas of Veerasaiva saints. In Bengal, it was Chaitanya Charitamruta, in Maharashtra the Dyaneshwari, and Marathi hymns by Tukaram; in Gujarat it was Narasinh Mehta’s compositions, and so on.146 Sanskrit contained philosophy and ritual knowledge handed down by generations, but vernacular was the medium through which its essence was communicated to the society at large. W.W. Hunter aptly observed that the indigenous schools prepared the boys ‘for services of their religion or for future civil positions.’147

Notes 1 Basu, ed., and Adam, Reports on the State of Education in Bengal 1835 and 1838, 228, hence forth Adam’s Report. 2 Appendix to the Report from the Select Committee of the House of Commons on the Affairs of the East India Company 1832, 341, henceforth Appendix to Report 1832. 3 The rituals of upanayana ceremony were different in different castes, however, the ritual of aksharabhyasa or initiation into writing was common to all castes. There was no such ceremony for girls; with very few exceptions, girls were completely denied of education. 4 Madras Public Consultations, 21 August 1835, Nos. 104–105, Alexander Johnston to Charles Grant 23 July 1833 (Charles Grant (1778–1866), born in Bengal, was the eldest son of Charles Grant and the member of the House of Commons who along with T.B. Macaulay was involved with the drafting the Charter Act of 1833, and composed the equality clause which gave equal employment opportunities to Indians). 5 General Department 63 of 1824, T.B. Jervis to the Secretary to the government 8 September 1824. 6 Ibid. 7 Parulekar, Survey of Indigenous Education, xxi. 8 See the entire debate in chapter 5. 9 General Department 92 of 1825, Evantt Baillie, Judge North Concan to James Farish, 13 November 1824. 10 Ibid, W.M Chaplin to Secretary to the government James Farish, 21 September 1825. 11 Education Department, Vol. I, Henry Pottinger to government, 18 August 1824. (The non-Brahmin group consisted of 64 Kunbis, 14 Sonars, 13 Weavers, 13 Telis, 5 coppersmiths 13, Purdesis, 19 Kasars, 9 carpenters, 13 dyers, 4 indigo dyers, 10 Goozurs, 7 Zingurs, 8 Kanrah wanes, 9 Simpies).

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12 General Department, 63 of 1824. Henderson, Judge Surat to James Ferish, 30 September 1824. 13 General Department, 92 of 1825, Collector of Broach to James Farish, 17 July 1824. 14 Education Department Vol. I, Henry Pottinger’s Report, 1825. 15 General Department No. 92 of 1825, Arthur Crawford to James Farish 20 September 1824. 16 Education Department, Vol I, Thomas Harvey Baber to William Chaplin, 22 August 1824. 17 Parulekar, Survey of Indigenous Education, 195. 18 Ibid. 19 General Department, Vol. 92 of 1825, J.D. DeVitre, to James Ferish, 27 September 1825. 20 Court of Directors to Bombay, 16 April 1828, Appendix to Report 1832, 388. 21 Minute by Thomas Munro 25 June 1822, Board of Revenue, 8 July 1822, No 918. Also see Appendix to Report 1832, 349–350. Potil/Patil was village headman. 22 T. Fraser, to BR, 23 June 1823, No. 26. 23 There is a variation in the statistics given by the district collectors and the final numbers sent by the Board of Revenue to the government. This table is based on this letter. 24 J. Vaughan to BR, 5 August 1823, Nos. 52–53. 25 Harris to government, 27 August 1822, BRP, Nos. 35–36. 26 Harris to BR, 3 February 1825, No 45. Harris established a school for the nephews of the rich Bunt families as they and not sons inherited property in matrilineal Bunt families. This must have created suspicion as no family came forward to send their boys. 27 J.B. Hudelston to BR, 3 February 1823, No. 21. 28 E. Smalley to BR, 3 April 1823, No. 25. 29 M.D. Cockburn to BR, 8 July 1823, No 50. 30 Minute by A. D. Campbell 17 August 1923, BR, Nos. 32–33. 31 Ibid. 32 Ibid. 33 Ibid. 34 Adam’s Report, 1. 35 Ibid, 6. 36 Ibid, 16. 37 Ibid, 2. 38 Ibid, 211–222. 39 Ibid. 40 Ibid, 50–51. 41 Ibid, 137–138. 42 Ibid, 228. 43 Ibid, 246–247. 44 Ibid, 54. 45 Reid, Report on Indigenous Education in the NWP 1851, 12–19. On page 58, Reid has given different figures – 1121 Hindi schools with 10,160 boys. 46 Ibid, 82. 47 Ibid, 26. 48 Arnold’s First Report in Richey, Selections from Educational Records 1840– 1859, 288–299. 49 Ibid, 290.

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0 Education Department Vol. I, Henry Pottinger’s Report, 1825. 5 51 Adam’s Report, 250. 52 Basak, History of Vernacular Education in Bengal 1800–1854, 45. 53 Parulekar, Indigenous Education, xxiv. 54 Report by the Punjab Provincial Committee, 3. 55 General Department, 92 of 1825. 56 J. Vaughan to BR, 5 August 1823, Nos. 52–53. 57 Public Proceedings, Bombay, 26 January 1825, Nos. 21–44. 58 Board Collections, No. 26361, Collector of Broach to Bombay Government 17 July 1824. 59 Reid, Report on Indigenous Education in the NWP 1851, 12–19. 60 Arnold’s First Report in Richey, Selections from Educational Records, 288–299. 61 H. Vibrat, to BR, 29 October 1822, Nos. 33–34. 62 J. Sullivan, to BR, 23 November 1822, No 43. 63 J. Smith, BR, 14 April 1823, Nos. 6–7. 64 F.W. Robertson, to BR, 19 September 1823, Nos. 29–30. 65 E. Smalley to BR, 3 April 1823, BRP, No. 25. 66 C. Hyde to BR, 29 June 1823, BRP, No. 59–60. 67 J.F. Lane to BR, 3 January 1823, Nos. 15–16. 68 Appendix to Report 1832, 358–360, Minute by Thomas Munro 10 March 1826. 69 J. Thomas Phillips, (tr. from Dutch) Thirty Four Conferences Between Danish Missionaries and the Malabarian Brahmins in the East Indies (the title is misleading; the thirty four meetings were between Ziegenbalg and Hindu, Muslim priests, indigenous school students, and many others). 70 Reid, Report on Indigenous Education in the NWP 1851, 98–99. 71 Adam’s Report, 8. 72 Adam’s Report, 242–245. 73 Reid, Indigenous Education 1851, 66–67. 74 Ibid, 245, 248. 75 Ibid, 233, 253. 76 Parulekar, Indigenous Education, xxxi. 77 Ibid, xxviii. 78 General Department 1824, No. 63, T.B. Jervis to the Secretary to the government 8 September 1824. 79 Parulekar, Indigenous Education, xxix. 80 Day, Recollections of Alexander Duff, 129. 81 A.D. Campbell to BR, 17 August 1823, Nos. 32–33. 82 Reid, Indigenous Education, 34. 83 J. Sullivan to BR, 23 November 1822, No. 43. 84 Reid, Report on Indigenous Education, 12–19, 35–36. These were ‘two ashtami, two parva, two chaturdashi, the amavasya and paurnami.’ 85 F.W. Robertson to BR, 19 September 1823, Nos. 29–30. 86 J.C. Whish to BR 9 July 1823, No. 49. 87 Adam’s Report, 230, 244. 88 Parulekar, Indigenous Education, xxxviii. 89 Appendix to the Report 1832, 205. 90 Ibid, 78. 91 Adam’s Report, 173–175. 92 Ibid, 166–168. 93 Ibid, 169–170. 94 Ibid, 169–172. The two Baidyas were brothers and together conducted a school.

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95 Ibid, 254–258. 96 Ibid, 258–261. One school had father and son teaching together and another had an uncle and nephew. 97 Ibid, 261–267. 98 Ibid, 267–272. 99 General Department 63 of 1824, Henderson to the government 30 September 1824. 100 Education Department Vol. I, 1825, T.H. Baber to William Chaplin, 22 August 1825. 101 General Department 92 of 1825, William Chaplin to James Farish, 21 September 1825. 102 William Cooke to BR, 3 March 1823, Nos. 20–21. 103 E. Smalley to BR, 3 April 1823, No. 25. 104 J. Sullivan to BR, 23 November 1822, No. 43. 105 R. Peter to BR, 5 February 1823, No. 21. 106 J. Cotton to BR, 28 June 1823, No. 61. 107 G.W. Saunders to BR, 23 August 1823, Nos. 35–36. 108 M.D. Cockburn to BR, 8 July 1823, No. 50. 109 J.F. Lane to BR, 3 January 1823, Nos. 15–16. 110 F.W. Robertson to BR, 19 September 1823, Nos. 29–30. 111 J.C. Whish to BR, 9 July 1823, No. 49. 112 P.R. Cazalet, to BR, 27 October 1823, Nos. 5–6. 113 Petition by Narayana Tune undated attached to letter from Vaughan to BR, 14 August 1823, Nos. 52–53. 114 J. Vaughan to BR, 5 August 1823, Nos. 52–53. 115 Reid, Report on Indigenous Education, 12, 62. 116 Guha, ‘Some Aspects of Agricultural Growth,’ 83–84. 117 Adam’s Report, 273–277. 118 Ibid, 282–283. 119 Reid, Report on Indigenous Education, 12, 44. 120 Adam’s Report, 277–291. 121 Ibid, 57–89, 277–290. 122 Reid, Report on Indigenous Education, 12. 123 Appendix to Report 1832, 227. 124 General Department, 63 of 1824, Henderson to the government, 30 September 1824. 125 Ibid, T.B. Jervis to the government 8 September 1824. 126 Education Department, Vol. I, 1825, T.H. Baber to William Chaplin, 22 August 1825. 127 General Department, 92 of 1825, William Chaplin to Sec James Farish, 21 September 1825. 128 William Cooke to BR, 3 March 1823, No. 16. 129 J.F. Lane to BR, 3 January 1823, No. 9. 130 J. Sullivan to BR, 23 November 1822, No. 43. 131 M.D. Cockburn to BR, 8 July 1823, No. 50. 132 Adam’s Report, 312. 133 General Department, No. 63 of 1824. 134 Ibid, No. 1 of 1825, W. A. Jones, to David Greenhill, 17 February 1825. 135 Appendix to Report 1832, Public letter from Madras 16 April 1828, 360– 363. In the margin it is mentioned as the ‘Minute of Sir Thomas Munro 16 April 1828.’ This is inaccurate. Munro died on 6 July 1827 and the letter in paragraph 5 refers to him in third person. So, whether the governor Lushington

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was trying to pass off his obscurantist educational ideas as that of Thomas Munro, or it was a genuine clerical error, is hard to tell. 136 The Report of the Indian Education Commission, 56. 137 GCPIC, Vol. 4, Minute by Macaulay dated 25 March 1835, and 2 December 1835. 138 GCPIC, Vol. 65, December 1841, Report on Pathsalas in Lower Provinces. 139 Bengal Annual Report on Education, 1877–78, 4. Classification of Instruction. 140 Education Proceedings, July 1870, 17–18, Pension rules. 141 Compiled from the data submitted by the provincial committees of Bengal, Madras, Bombay Presidencies, North-western Provinces, Punjab, and Central Provinces to the Indian Education Commission 1882. 142 The Report of the Indian Education Commission, 5. 143 Ibid, 67. 144 Ibid, 634. 145 Ibid, 78–79. 146 The Vaishnavism rejected social and economic hierarchies. It held Vishnu as the supreme god and all human beings as merely servants – dasas of Vishnu. The British Orientalists who inherently believed and upheld social and economic hierarchies overtly promoted Sanskrit, Dharmasastras, and Banaras as authentic representatives of Hinduism. The protestant missionaries opposed idol worship associated with vaishnavism. The colonial state supported big land owners, who belonged to the saiva tradition. The combined effect was such that by the beginning of 20th century, Sanskrit, Banaras, and Advaita became almost the only authentic representatives of Hinduism, and in places like Bengal, Chaitanya and Vaishnavism completely disappeared. 147 The Report of the Indian Education Commission, 57.

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3 THE EARLY BRITISH AND INDIAN INTERACTIONS

The English, Hindoo, and Mahomedan lads, who were all educated together, mutually assisted each other in the acquisition of their several languages. – Report of the Cawnpore Free School, 18231

The early British and Indian interactions The East India Company (EIC) was a joint-stock company established by a group of merchants in 1600 to trade with India. The worldwide affairs of the EIC was controlled by the Court of Directors consisting of 24 directors in London.2 The primary aim of the EIC during the seventeenth and for most of the eighteenth centuries was to establish monopolistic control over trade in India by defeating the competing European powers, such as the Portuguese, the French, the Dutch, and the Danes. The British and the Indian interaction during this period, according to Michael Edwards, was ‘unselfconscious,’3 which were guided by two important aspects. First, since the very nature of interaction was business, the Indian and the British merchants assisted each other.4 This was further strengthened by the Enlightenment ideals which promoted a healthy respect for all cultures. Most of the servants of the East India Company (EIC) ate Indian food and exhibited an extraordinary appreciation for both Hindu and Islamic culture. Many British officers wore pyjamas even in public. Most of them did not eat beef and pork out of respect for Indians and repaired temples across India. The collector of Trichinapoly spent 40,000 rupees to repair the walls of the Srirangam temple. Orders were issued to assist all religious institutions in times of drought.5 In 1814 alone, the Madras government gave financial aid to 993 temples in the Tanjavur district.6 The British government in India spent over one million rupees a year on Hindu temples and institutions.7 Second, it was the recruitment system of the EIC that consolidated friendly relations. During the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries,

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trained civil service did not exist. While some of the higher officials hailing from aristocratic backgrounds came to India in their youth, most of the cadets or soldiers in the army and copiers or clerks in the civil administration were recruited at the age of 13.8 They were mere children forced to work away from their home environment because of poverty. They had been thrown into a culturally and climatically difficult environment before they had developed any strong sense of national and racial superiority. John Malcolm (1769–1833), who went on to become the governor of Bombay, was the son of an impoverished shepherd. He came to India at the age of 13, and within a year he was ‘a commander of sepoys’ in the Madras army.9 In the eighteenth century, the relationship between a poor Scottish shepherd boy of 14 with the native soldiers under his command was not the conventional ­master-servant relationship. The teenager would follow the orders of his British commanders in battle, but in day-to-day existence, he depended on the soldiers to learn Indian vernaculars; get directions; and find local information, food, and entertainment. Though these cadets and clerks climbed the ladder of success by serving the interests of the EIC, they remained appreciative of Indians and Indian culture. Malcolm declared that ‘my views of governing this country are too opposed to the pride of conquerors.’10 This was not a lone instance. Thomas Munro’s (1761–1828) family suffered ‘grinding and humiliating poverty,’ and he came to Madras as a cadet in 1780.11 He sent home almost his entire earnings to repay family debts. His frugal existence in India could be derived from his own admission that he used ‘a book or a cartridge pouch’ as a pillow and that it took him ‘three years’ before he could actually purchase a pillow.12 After serving the EIC for 39 years, he became the governor of Madras Presidency. Malcolm and Munro successfully resisted Cornwallis and prevented him from introducing the Bengal type of Permanent Settlement for the rest of India.13 The servants of the EIC could be divided into three categories. The first category consisted of those who amassed wealth and permanently returned to Britain to enjoy an elevated status in British society. In the second category one finds the liberals who returned after serving for decades in India and led campaigns in Britain for the betterment of India. The third category consisted of the British recruits who did not rise in the EIC’s services but remained in the same position. They did not return to Britain but settled down in India. According to P.J. Marshall, the majority of soldiers did not survive the span of their service; those who did, however, sunk roots in India. They married Indian women and raised families in India. Such people became ‘almost native in their habits; they associated and lived with natives.’ There was a considerable number of children of ‘old soldiers with a native family . . . permanently domiciled in India.’14 There was also another group of Europeans who had settled down in India. The armies of Indian kings, including the Mughals, the Nizams of Hyderabad, and the Marathas, had European soldiers and officers during the seventeenth and eighteenth 46

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centuries. After the defeat of the French East India Company in 1899, many French soldiers joined the services of the Mughal and Maratha armies.15 The Prime Minister (Nawab Wazir) of Awadh was Colonel Pedron – a Frenchman.16 The French, too, adopted Indian culture.

Change in the interaction The American War of Independence had a considerable influence on the policies of the EIC in India than have hitherto been acknowledged. After Britain lost the American colonies, the affairs of India, which were in the hands of merchants, passed on into the hands of the British aristocracy. Peter Marshall has argued that the decline of British power in America and the making of the British Empire in India were intimately entangled.17 The loss of American colonies made the aristocracy turn its attention to India to achieve wealth, fame, and glory. For the governor-generals Cornwallis and Hastings (Moira), who had fought and lost battles against the Americans, winning battles elsewhere was essential to regain prestige. They followed aggressive expansionist policies. The British aristocracy, which maintained its distinct identity by its control over landed property, education, and contempt for the English poor, attempted to do the same in India. Cornwallis created a class of big landholders by introducing Permanent Settlement in Bengal. He boldly announced that ‘no Indian is worthy of trust’ and proclaimed that ‘every native of Hindustan is corrupt.’18 He dismissed all Indian officials in the EIC’s services and replaced them with Europeans.19 Cornwallis and the governor-generals who came after him treated the mixed population with utter contempt. Cornwallis identified ambiguous and hybrid population as moral dangers that threatened the British rule. . . . The doctrine of public virtue acted to enforce social and physical difference between Europeans and Indians. Eurasians were perceived to straddle the divide between barbarism and civilisation. Racial mixing became associated with moral degeneration.20 According to P. J. Marshall, ‘the children of mixed marriages were officially classified as natives of India. They were regarded not as a part of the British presence in India but as another layer in the diversity of ‘native’ India.’21 They were also treated as natives in the eye of law and were subject to Mahomedan law and did not have the protection of the Habeas Corpus Act. They could not join the army, or hold office of a Munsiff like natives. However, if they abjured Christianity and became Muslims, they would be eligible. So in the interiors, many British officers and soldiers with Indian spouses brought up their children as Muslims. Those who testified before 47

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the British Parliament stated that the Indians’ attitude towards the mixed population was more congenial than the British government’s in India.22 Indian women, many of them upper-caste Hindus and upper-class Muslims who married British officers and soldiers, did not convert to Christianity, and many of them raised their children as Hindus or Muslims. The British elite insisted that only Christian marriages were legal. So civil, nonChristian marriages came to be considered illegal, and the children of those marriages were derogatorily called ‘illegitimate’ and ‘half caste.’ The British husbands openly accepted their wives and children and bequeathed property to them,23 to which thousands of wills left by the British officers are a testimony.24 By the 1830s, ‘skin colour was becoming a more important social discriminator,’ and the relationship between the British elites and the children of mixed parentage was ‘almost as great as that of Brahmin and Pariah.’25 The British elite excluded British officers with Indian spouses and children of mixed marriages from covenanted services and disqualified them from jury services.26 The Eurasians were criticised for wearing ­Western clothes, as Western dress was the mark of the ruling race. The Anglican Church in India excluded the Eurasians from the ranks of the clergy.27 Cornwallis and Wellesley brought arrogance and contempt and turned the administration into remote grandeur.28 The change in the nature of interaction can be seen through the examples of the two earliest educational institutions established by the British. Warren Hastings (1731–1818), an orphan from England, had an intellectual fascination for Indian culture during his stay in India and encouraged British officers to ‘learn Indian languages and study its literature.’ Regarding Charles Wilkins’s translation of The Gita, Hastings commented ‘such works would live when the British domain in India has long ceased to exist.’29 Hastings was proficient in Persian30 and tried to establish a professorship of the Persian language and literature at Oxford University to interpret Hafiz and Firdausi.31 The proposal was rejected as there was no place in Oxford for a commoner like him. So he established a Madrassa in Calcutta in 1781 by personally buying land and constructing a building at his own expense. He handed it over to Mohammad Moizuddin.32 Cornwallis removed Moizuddin from service in 1791 and placed the institution under European supervision.33 Similarly, Jonathan Duncan established a Sanskrit college at Banaras in 1791 and placed this institution under Pandit Kashinatha Sarma, who had compiled a Sanskrit-English lexicon for William Jones. After the departure of Duncan, the pundit was dismissed from service, and later a European officer was placed as its head.34 This shows the refusal of the British aristocracy to entrust Indians with any responsibility. So the loss of American colonies brought about three fundamental changes. First, the EIC became a sanctuary for the British aristocracy, and the need for achieving glory changed the nature of the EIC from commercial enterprise to empire-building machine. Second, not market but territory 48

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became the focal point of its policy. Third, it created distance between the British and the Indians, and racism became dominant.

Opposition to elite policies The elitist policies did not go unopposed by the liberal officers who came from poorer backgrounds. Thomas Munro effectively questioned and fought against the extension of the Permanent Settlement of Cornwallis and provided an alternative Ryotwari settlement as a young 28-year-old officer in the Madras Presidency. Munro lived in tents and moved from village to village among peasants, carrying on a detailed survey of their fields for the purpose of assessment to introduce the Ryotwari land revenue system.35 He opposed the dominant British notion that Indians were ‘indolent’ and argued that the Indian peasantry was as industrious as the European peasantry.36 He opposed the policy of excluding Indians from the administration and the Orientalist policy of elevating the Brahmins to leadership positions by limiting the entry of other castes into the army and civil administration.37 Defending the Indian businessmen, in his testimony before the Select Committee of the House of Commons in 1812, Munro argued that the people of India are as much a nation of shopkeepers as we are. They never lose sight of the shop; they carry it into all their concerns, religious and civil. All their holy places and resorts for pilgrims are so many fairs for the sale of goods of all kinds. Religion and trade are sister arts; the one is seldom found in any large assembly without the society of the other.38 Several officers who had served in India told the Select Committee of the British Parliament that ‘the natives are in general industrious and regular . . . in every way to be compared with the merchants of any other country.’39 John Sullivan, an officer from the Madras Presidency, told the parliamentary Committee that the natives have been excluded from all offices of trust and emolument. . . . We never think it worth our while to consult them upon any of those measures of the government which have the interest of the natives for their professed object.40 Sullivan also pointed out to ‘heavy system of taxation imposed for maintaining expensive European establishments.’ He further asserted that ‘the natives are a very sensitive race of people. . . . The native servants deserve a high character: where they have been wanting in good qualities, it has been entirely owing our treatment of them.’ He asked the government to ‘give 49

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the natives greater trust and responsibilities and increase their pay.’ Sullivan even ‘had a native Christian employed under him in a high office.’41 Francis Warden, who served over 30 years in Bombay, criticised the ‘speculative opinion’ of the British elites that ‘the Hindus have been stationary since the age of Manu, . . . to their few wants, the uniformity and extreme simplicity of their habits, their unsocial education, superstition and prejudice of the Hindus.’ He attributed it to ‘erroneous, and a delusion advanced by the servants of the EIC to palliate their errors, and their misrule.’ Warden stressed that the great mass of Hindus throughout India consists of mixed tribes of innumerable denominations, and tied down by no restraints, which are not imputable to an intolerant land tax, to poverty, ignorance, and despotic power, which the diffusion of knowledge and liberal institutions would speedily dispel.42 Warden also told the Parliamentary Committee about the flexibility and fluidity that existed in India. He gave the following example: ‘One class of Brahmin will not eat food prepared by the hands of the Brahmins of any other class’; however, Brahmin children no longer hesitate to associate with Hindus of inferior caste in the English schools. Hindus have often been seen bowing at the shrine of a Muslim saint, keep their festivals, and celebrate the martyrdom of Hussain and Hassan.43 Such opposition to British elitism dwindled out by the middle of the nineteenth century when the elite recruits of the Indian Civil Service began to fill in the posts in the colonial administration.

Charles Grant’s Observations, 1792 Cornwallis and the elite British officers wanted to keep Indians insular from the English language and European sciences. They feared losing India as they had the American colonies. Charles Grant (1746–1823) openly addressed the elite idea that ‘the establishment of seminaries and colleges in America was one of the most efficient causes of the loss of that country.’44 He rejected the idea that ‘the conduct of the American colonies that has raised in some minds confused surmising and apprehensions.’ He dismissed ‘the relation between the American Revolution and the spread of education’ and urged the government not to compare Americans with Hindus.45 Grant was the first person to advocate the introduction of modern education through English as a medium of instruction.

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Grant was the son of a highland soldier of Scotland in the Jacobite army and was raised by his uncle. He came to India in 1767 as a cadet46 and worked in Bengal until his return in 1790. During his stay in India, Grant was greatly moved by two important aspects of Bengal at that time – the inhuman practice of sati and the acute poverty and suffering of the peasantry. He believed that modern education alone could bring about social and economic transformation. He wrote his Observations in 1792, which was an attempt to understand the ‘effect of our administration upon the countries which have fallen under our dominion.’ In the Observations, Grant expressed unhappiness over the British rule that had not done anything to alleviate the misery of Bengal peasantry. Grant argued that We have appropriated those territories in perpetuity to ourselves, we have assumed sovereign dominion over them, if we apply a large portion of their annual produce to the use of Great Britain . . . all duties of rulers must be incumbent upon us. . . . [These duties are to protect people from] feudal oppression and official abuses.47 Drawing from his personal experiences of observing the plight of Bengal peasantry in the famine of 1768–1770, in which three million people died, where people ‘sold their children; especially daughters in times of distresses.’ He was particularly disturbed by ‘the sight of infants hovering over their dead parents, and the death of the entire population of villages.’48 He located the death and devastation to the outdated method of cultivation49 and argued that introducing new and improved methods in agriculture would protect the peasants from recurring famines. Grant argued that the introduction of modern education would improve agriculture. He admired the Hindus who had attained a ‘considerable degree of perfection’ in manufacturing certain items but stated that they remained behind in technological innovation, advancements in which were necessary to prevent famines: What great accessions of wealth would Bengal derive from a people intelligent in the principles of agriculture, skilled to make the most of soils and seasons, to improve the existing modes of culture, of pasturage, of rearing cattle, of defence against excess of drought, and of rain, and thus to meliorate the quality of all the produce of the country! . . . we might communicate information of material use to the comfort of life, and to the prevention of famine.50 Grant rejected the prevalent notion in the official circle that the Indians were incapable of understanding and adopting technological innovations.

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He gave the example of how the Bengalis, who had their own indigenous method of winding raw silk, quickly adopted the complex Italian mode of winding when the EIC introduced it.51 Grant also saw the diffusion of modern education as an essential first step towards social transformation, particularly in the prevention of sati. Grant countered the official argument that a conciliatory attitude towards Hindus was essential for the stability of British rule, Supposing it to be in our power to convince them of the criminality of the annual sacrifice of so many human victims on the funeral pile . . . mothers of families are taken from the midst of their children, who have just lost their father also, and by a most diabolical complication of force and fraud, are driven into the flames. . . . Shall we be in all times to come, as we hitherto have been, passive spectator of this unnatural wickedness?52 Grant suggested that ‘not force but persuasion’ was needed to make the Hindus realise the superstition that existed in their society and embrace Christian principles. Grant appreciated Charles Wilkins’s translation of The Gita; he called it ‘certainly of considerable antiquity and it is deemed to be so purified from grosser parts of the Hindu superstition.’53 Grant did not believe in the British elite’s notion of Hindus being inherently corrupt; he argued that ‘the Hindus err because they are ignorant; and their errors have never fairly been laid before them . . . true cure for darkness in the introduction of light.’54 That light, Grant believed, could be provided by modern education. Grant suggested that the government should take initiative in introducing free schools to teach modern subjects which would ‘silently undermine, and at length subvert, the fabric of error.’55 It would also lead to material improvements of the people as they came to learn about and adopt advanced technological and agricultural practices. Grant criticised those who raised ‘the conduct of the British American colonies as a pretext to continue the ignorance, superstition, and degradation in India.’56 After forcefully arguing for the social and economic transformation of India through modern education, he hoped that it would also facilitate the spread of Christianity in India. The Observations drew little attention when it was written; however 20 years later it was placed before the British Parliament in 1813, during the debates concerning the renewal of the charter of the EIC. Grant, who by then had become one of the 24 directors of the EIC, persistently campaigned for and was instrumental in making modern education an important agenda of the colonial state by earmarking 100,000 rupees, or 10,000 pounds, per year.57 It was a radical step as England did not acknowledge its responsibility for education until 1833.

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Training imperial civil servants – College of Fort William, 1800 Like Grant, other Scottish officers, like Munro and Malcolm, argued for better treatment of Indians, empowerment through modern education, and appointments to higher positions.58 This did not clearly serve the imperial preferences which the British aristocracy had in mind. Governor-general Richard Wellesley established the College of Fort William in Calcutta in 1800 to inculcate imperial attitude to young British boys coming to India as clerks. He also feared that these young, untrained minds, influenced by the French revolutionary ideas of liberty, equality, and fraternity, would probably contribute to a rebellion of Indians against the British rule. So he argued that dispelling ‘erroneous principles of the French revolution’ was essential and attempts should be made ‘to fix and establish sound and correct principles of religion and government in their minds at an early period of life were the best security which could be provided for the stability of the British power in India.’59 Until Wellesley made serious objections to the way the administration was conducted in the EIC ruled territories, the merchants of the company oversaw the administration. Wellesley argued that the civil servants of the EIC can no longer be considered as agents of a commercial concern, they are in fact the ministers and officers of a powerful sovereign; they must now be viewed in that capacity, not to their nominal but to their real occupation.60 Wellesley established a centralised institution ‘in which all newly arrived writers, bound for whatever presidency, were to attend’ and be trained by ‘clergymen of the Church of England.’ The College of Fort William consisted of ‘a teaching staff that would deal with the Indian languages, the Hindu and Muslim laws, the Regulations of Government, and modern sciences.’ He proposed ‘two public examinations annually, written as well as publically examined in oriental languages.’61A prize of 800 rupees and a gold medal were conferred on those who had made considerable progress.62 The instruction was for three years, and promotion was directly linked to performance in the institution.63 Finally, he announced that he considered the college ‘as a monument to his recent conquest of Mysore and had therefore dated its foundation 4 May 1800 as a perpetual reminder of the fall of Srirangapatanam.’64 Wellesley also insisted that the Bombay and Madras governments should ‘establish distinct seminaries and each institution must be framed nearly on the model of the College of Fort William.’65 The Court of Directors opposed the establishment of the college and asked for its immediate abolition. Wellesley passionately defended his decision.66

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When the College of Fort William was established, the Asiatic Society of Bengal dominated the intellectual scene in Calcutta. This institution had been established by William Jones in 1784 to bring European and Indian scholars together and initiate the process of translation and publication of rare manuscripts. William Carey’s Serampore Mission was also involved in the translation of Indian texts. Wellesley enlisted the support of both these institutions to establish various departments. For the first time, a formal institution taught both classical languages like Arabic, Persian, and Sanskrit and vernaculars like Bengali, Telugu, Tamil, Kannada, and Marathi. ‘Public disputations’ by the trainees were held in Persian, Bengali, and Hindustani.67 However, Indians scholars, liberal British Sanskrit scholars of the Asiatic Society, and the poor Baptist Missionaries of Serampore had scant regard for the elite class or racial superiority. As faculty, they could hardly be expected to inculcate racial superiority in poor British boys and produce officers for imperial administration. So, the college failed to live up to the expectation of Wellesley in training imperial rulers. Instead, it paved the way for cultural exchange between Europeans and Indians. By 1805 the college had become a veritable laboratory, in which Europeans and Indians worked out new transliteration schemes, regularised spoken language into precise grammatical forms, and compiled dictionaries in various languages. The College of Fort William revitalised the Asiatic Society by giving it a viable structure, supporting its scholarship, and making available its library and other resources for the promotion of scholarship. The college as a training centre for civil servants supplied the Asiatic Society with a younger generation of potential scholars.68 The opposition from the Board of Directors, coupled with the college’s failure to meet the expectations of an imperial agenda, led the EIC to establish Haileybury College in England in 1807. The scope of the college of Fort William was reduced to the training of civil servants expected to serve in Bengal. After this the decline was rapid, and the college was finally abolished in 1854.69 As an experiment, the college lasted 54 years.70 Though the college thrived only for a short period, it paved the way for a renaissance in Bengal which spread to other parts of India. The establishment of Haileybury College to train officers in 1807 did not immediately change the scenario. The British Parliamentary Committee noted in 1812 that the young recruits ‘once landed in India, their studies, manners, morals, expenses or conduct, are no longer subject to any degree of regulation or discretion.’ The Directors of the Company opposed a raise in the recruitment age as ‘the wants and expenses of individuals arriving in India at the age of twenty, or twenty-two years, would exceed the scale of the public allowances to the junior servants.’71 In 1822, the Bombay government wrote to the Court of Directors, saying that men sent to India ‘should not be under the age of twenty.’72 Elphinstone, too, suggested to the British Parliament that the ‘civil servants should not be sent to India until they are 54

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at least twenty years old.’73 The British Parliament in 1832 strongly advised EIC to increase the recruitment age to at least 18 years.74 So, even after the establishment of Haileybury College, the bulk of the junior civil servants sent to India continued to be untrained young boys.

Ordinary people and extraordinary interaction: the early English schools Though the coming of the British aristocracy distanced the ruler from the ruled, ordinary people continued to interact cordially. This was particularly seen in the field of education. As early as the second half of the eighteenth century, several Indians – with a limited knowledge of English acquired through interaction with the British merchants, officers, and civilians in Bombay, Calcutta, Madras and even in small towns – were teaching local children English through spelling books and storybooks. Many retired British soldiers, even the invalid ones, taught native children English for a fee. Mahendra Nath Law has called these schools ‘Mushroom schools.’ In 1788 in Calcutta, David Brown conducted a boarding-school for young Hindus. The school, however, had a brief existence as Brown was made provost of the newly established College of Fort William in 1800. There were several schools conducted by such individuals in Calcutta.75 The affluent Indians appointed British and Eurasians as tutors to teach English for their children, who also taught children in the neighbourhood.76 There were several instances of British officers teaching neighbourhood boys before going to the office in the morning. The first English school in Surat was established by a British soldier who gave ‘moderate education.’77 The earliest modern school established in Madras was by a Scottish preacher by the name Pringley in 1673. The school taught Portuguese, English, and Tamil to European, Eurasian, and native children. His successor, Stevenson, did not like to teach Portuguese, so he established St Mary’s Charity School in 1715 to teach English. Individual British men and women donated liberally to this institution. The school continued until 1872.78 There were two schools, one each for boys and girls, run by W. Rollo for Eurasians and natives in Madras. It came to the attention of the government in 1818, when Rollo asked for the exemption of rent.79 Ross, the Collector of Kadapa established a school for children between the ages of 12 and 18.80 The details of the schools established by individuals are hard to come by. Some of them do find a passing reference in a small way. An English school run by Rowji Appaji, son of Duftedar – a police constable in Mahim, near Bombay – taught many boys.81 In Panwal village, near Bombay, Syyud Buydrrodeen Panwelkar and Balajee Crustna Koolkunnee maintained an English school. The Panwal school had ‘55 boys from different castes’ and that the English master ‘was thoroughly acquainted with English . . . and was from the Maratha caste.’82 We know this because in 1820 Panwalkar and 55

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Kulkarni thought that, after the British conquest of western India, logically the English schools would get government support, and sent a petition with 63 signatures. They requested a monthly salary for their English teacher. They were sadly mistaken. Elphinstone refused to support the school.83 Later, a Madrasa was sanctioned to Panwal.84 In Bengal, the Calcutta Free School Society was formed on 21 December 1789. Though it was formed for the education of the European and Eurasian children, it admitted Indian children too. The government gave 60 rupees per month for the purpose of employing a teacher to teach native languages to the children.85 Many Indians studied in such little-known early schools. In Bhawanipur and Kidderpore the natives established English schools and later merged them to form a larger school called the Union School. William Adam reported that ‘they were established without any communications with the Europeans by native gentlemen for the instruction of Hindu children in English and were at first supported by voluntary subscription.’ In 1829, for the first time Europeans were involved when the Calcutta School Society gave funds. This school had 150 fee-paying students and was conducted from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. every day except on Sunday. A school at Simliya in Calcutta was maintained by two Hindus and one Englishman; it had 70 fee-paying students and no other income except the fee. An English school at Burra Bazar had 30–40 boys and was taught by a native. A school with 40 boys on Upper Circular Road was maintained by a Christian who supported himself by teaching. The biggest English school in Calcutta, with 300 boys, was at Shoba Bazar. It was maintained by a Christian and a native who employed several assistant teachers to teach the children. Here, students paid 2–4 rupees a month. A school maintained by a Christian does not mean a church or a missionary school. Adam enumerated the missionary schools separately. It meant that the teacher was a Eurasian. A Hindu Free School at Arpooly had five Hindu teachers instructing 150 boys in English from 6 a.m. to 9 a.m. every day. The Hindu Benevolent Institution was supported by two native gentlemen, and this school had three to four native masters instructing 100 boys in the morning. A school at Chor Bagan supported by two natives had four native teachers teaching 60 boys in the morning. The schools maintained by Christians for their children were open to everyone. The Calcutta High School, the Parental Academic Institution, The Philanthropic Academy, and The Verulum Academy had a number of Hindu and Muslim boys. A widow in Circular Road maintained a school by appointing teachers to teach English, History, Geography, Geometry, Algebra, and Latin.86 Sherbourne, a Eurasian son of a Brahmin mother, conducted one of the most successful schools in a house in Chitpore Road. He was so respected that the parents of his students offered him puja burik, traditionally given to Brahmins during festivals. Prasana Coomar Tagore and his brother Hara Coomar Tagore studied in this school. At Boitakhannah, an Englishman by the name 56

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Hutteman maintained a school.87 The Raja of Burdwan, a big zamindar, supported a native English teacher from Calcutta and contributed 1,000 rupees to establish an English school in Midnapur.88 At Culna in Burdwan district, a Brahmin taught English to 90 to 100 boys.89 In Sahebgung, in South Bihar, an East Indian, Francis, maintained an English school with 28 boys.90 Almost everyone who had acquired new knowledge was sharing it with others. The Indians on their part learnt English not only for securing jobs in the East India Company but also for expanding their intellectual horizons and to ‘discuss Shakespeare and Milton with their European friends.’91 According to Frykenburg, ‘so strong was the demand for English that almost anyone with pretensions to such knowledge, however fraudulent this might be, could set up a school.’ It was estimated that, in Madras along Mount Road alone, one could find 500 signboards each advertising itself as a ‘SCHOOL’ and each claiming to give the ‘BEST’ instruction in ‘ENGLISH.’ The glut of such schools had become so great that fees, which private tutors could charge, had been driven down.’92

The Dharmatola Academy The Dharmatola Academy can be considered the first formal English school in India. It was established by David Drummond (1785–1843), a Scotsman from Fifeshire, who came to Calcutta in 1813. He modelled his school on Scottish schools in which ‘the laird’s (landlord’s) son and ploughman’s boy sat side by side in the same form.’ He taught modern sciences, mathematics, history, and English literature and introduced the patriotism of Robert Burns and scepticism of David Hume into the classroom. He was the first to introduce the radical ideas of the Scottish Enlightenment to India. In the Dharmatola Academy, the European, Eurasian, and Indian boys studied together. He also refused to recognise class distinctions. The poor boys of Calcutta studied with affluent boys of the Tagore family. Drummond conducted annual examinations and invited people of Calcutta to judge for themselves the merits of his students. European, Eurasian, and Indian boys competed for academic honours. The Indian boys often shared or even won honours in these publically held examinations. This social equality, coupled with radical Enlightenment philosophy, was one of the important causes responsible for the Bengal Renaissance.93

The Kanpur and Meerut schools When British officials established schools for their children, natives approached these schools to admit their children. Major-General Lewis Thomas, the commanding officer at Kanpur, established a school for the 57

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children of British soldiers in 1820; immediately, Hindu and Muslim children flocked to the school: A number of Hindu and Muslim grownup lads of respectable families had become class fellows with the English boys in reading Bible, without discovering the slightest objection on the score of the prejudice in which they were born.94 The school had 187 boys and five orphaned children. The government gave 382 rupees and 12 annas per month from February 1823 to December 1824.95 The school survived on public contributions until 1835, when T.B. Macaulay made it a government school. Similarly, in Meerut, Major-General Nichols; Richard Hastings Scott, the magistrate; and Rev. H. Fisher established a free school for 18 European boys and three girls; 16 Hindu boys and 34 Muslim boys joined it. In 1831, the school had 75 boys studying English; 47 studying English and Sanskrit; and 23 studying English, Persian, and Arabic. The school had 99 Hindu, 15 Muslim, and 31 Christian boys. The school used Pand Nameh, the Gulistan, the Bostan, Bahar-i Danish, Taher Wahid, and the Koran to teach Persian and Arabic; it used Saraswat Chandrika, the thesaurus Amarakosha, the Raghu Vansa, and the Bhagavata to teach Sanskrit. Elementary English books, such as the New Testament; Epitome of Ancient, Medieval, and Modern History; and Goldsmith’s History of England, as well as arithmetic and geography, were taught in English.96 The book titles indicate a very high standard, and boys passing out of this school must have had a considerable proficiency in both classical and modern education. In these schools, the native boys outnumbered the British children.

Missionaries and Indian interaction Until 1813, the EIC actively and quite effectively opposed the entry of Christian missionaries into India. The official reason was that the EIC was essentially a trading company interested in profits and not in the propagation of religion. They argued that any support to the missionaries would be seen by the Indians as support to conversion into Christianity and would eventually turn them hostile to the British.97 However, the actual reason was the internal conflict of the highly divided Protestant Church in England. The state and the ruling classes, including most of the directors of the Company, belonged to the Anglican Church, which upheld elite privileges, and the rest of the population followed one of the dissenter groups, such as Baptists, Congregationalists, Presbyterians, Unitarians, and Quakers. These groups struggled against aristocratic privileges of both church and state.98 They had no access to the privileged universities of Oxford and Cambridge.99 The Anglican Church believed that the existing class distinctions were divinely 58

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ordained.100 The British Crown did not interfere in the affairs of the EIC, so all those who were not employed by the EIC had to seek the Company’s licenses to enter and reside in India. Through this, the EIC effectively controlled the British non-official inflow into India, and the British missionaries were repeatedly denied permits to enter India. The Court of Directors of the EIC defeated the missionary effort to enter India in 1793 at the time of the renewal of the EIC Charter.101 By the next renewal of the contract, in 1813, the EIC was in a difficult financial situation, as it had incurred heavy losses. Charles Grant and the supporters of the missionaries were able to get support in the British Parliament for the renewal of the Charter. As a result, the missionaries were allowed to come to India. Even after this, the colonial government and the European elites in India did all in their power to make the missionaries appear contemptible in the eyes of the natives, describing them on as low-caste people in their own country, and quite unfit to hold conversation with the learned Brahmins, or even to teach the ignorant Shudras of the land.102 This elite attitude of disdain was also guided by the fact that the missionaries from dissenter groups refused to abide by racial markers or segregate European and Indian children. Some of the early missionary schools were residential in nature, in which children of poor upper caste and lower-caste Indians, Eurasians, and poor European soldiers lived and studied together.103 In order to discourage conversion, the government prohibited the employment of Indian Christians in government jobs. The government made native Christians ineligible to hold any public office. They could not work as lawyers (vakeel) or become civil judges (munsif).104 The missionaries struggled hard to enter India. British ships were forbidden even to carry them aboard. William Carey (1761–1834), a Baptist missionary, boarded a British ship in 1793 to enter India. When the captain of the ship found out that Carey was a missionary, he and his pregnant wife were offloaded at the Isle of White. He managed to travel on a Danish ship and reached Serampore, a Danish settlement in India. Since he was not allowed to preach, he took up a job as superintendent of an indigo plantation at Malda. In 1794, he started his first school there with a few local boys to whom he taught reading, writing, arithmetic, the local accounting system, and Christianity.105 William Ward (1769–1823) and Joshua Marshman (1768–1837) reached India through the same route. Soon they came to be known as the ‘Serampore Trio.’ All of them came from humble backgrounds. William Carey was the son of a master of a charity school. He had a precarious existence as a cobbler and a teacher. Joshua Marshman’s father was a weaver, and William Ward was a son of a carpenter.106 They worked 59

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hard, learnt Indian languages, and established a press which could print any work in Bengali, Urdu, Oriya, Tamil, Telugu, Kannada, and Marathi. When Wellesley established the College of Fort William, he could not ignore the expertise which Carey had, and he appointed him Professor of Bengali. They also developed close friendships with Hindu reformers and exercised considerable influence. Carey was instrumental in abolishing infanticide in Bengal.107

The missionaries as educators The colonial states’ refusal to support the missionaries and introduce modern education created a unique situation. The missionaries desired to reach out to the people to propagate Christianity, and Indians desired modern education; this ensured close collaboration. Though the missionaries were severe critics of the superstitious practices of Hindu society, they still received support from even orthodox Hindus. Mritunjay Vidyalankar, an orthodox Brahmin with ‘unyielding cultural pride,’ taught Sanskrit to William Carey, who worked as a cobbler before coming to India. Carey produced a Sanskrit grammar and translated the Ramayana into English and the Bible into Bengali and is regarded as the ‘Father of Bengali Prose.’ Whenever a missionary visited a village, people including orthodox Brahmins urged him to open a school. In many places, people, even the poor, contributed money towards starting a school.108 Similarly, when missionaries established schools in various places, many Brahmin and Kayastha pathasala masters joined them. The missionaries formed the Calcutta School Society in 1818, and by 1835, it had 211 schools within the city limits, with 4,908 Hindu and Muslim boys. This was about one-third of the boys in the school-going age at that time.109 Robert May (1788–1818) of the London Missionary Society came to India in July 1814. May’s father was a sailor, and his mother died when he was 3 years old. A relative sent him to Sunday school. May received an overwhelming response when he established a school in Chinsura in 1814. The school had 80 boys and maintained 100-per cent attendance.110 Within a year, he had established 14 more schools, which cost 1,080 rupees per year, which was borne by Gordon Forbs, the British judge at Chinsura. Initially, Brahmin and Kayastha students joined the school; slowly, others joined too.111 May went on to establish 36 more schools in the next three years by co-opting the indigenous Bengali schoolteachers. A small place like Ombeka had two schools with 130 and 80 boys, while Santipore had a large school with 260 boys, and of them 230 attended regularly. Governor-general Hastings refused to assist these schools financially. However, when affluent landlords, such as the Raja of Burdwan and Somsundar Haldar, established three schools and requested Robert May to supervise them, Hastings was ‘pleased and sanctioned 200 rupees.’112 In December 1817, May’s schools had 2,968 60

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boys on the register, and of them 2,375 were in regular attendance. Six months later the same 36 schools had 3,255 children, of which 2,695 were in regular attendance. There was an increase of 287 in enrolment and 320 in regular attendance. Some of the schools had 100 per cent attendance.113 The schools established by May followed the timings of indigenous schools. The boys arrived at sunrise and learnt to read and write until 9 a.m., after which they had an hour’s break. They studied arithmetic until noon and then went home. They returned at 3 p.m. to study the remaining subjects until sunset. These schools were very popular and were supported by several local zamindars.114 Robert May wrote, ‘Did you see their eagerness, when they receive a new painted board, to read and learn what is painted, you would indeed rejoice.’115 The missionaries found native boys ‘quick, teachable and desirous of instruction.’116 The death of May in August 1818 did not affect the school. Forbs reported in 1819 that, the progressive system of education introduced into the schools and to the more regular attendance of the children is generally satisfactory. And the frequent applications which have been preferred for the establishment of new schools afford a gratifying proof of the confidence felt by the natives in the experimental measures which have been adopted for conveying instruction to them.117 Governor-general Hastings accepted that the schools ‘afford a gratifying proof of the confidence felt by the natives in the schools’ but stated that ‘it is not desirable to augment the actual number of schools.’118 When the people of Chinsura urged Forbs for funds to continue these schools, he wrote to the Court of Directors. They stated that ‘non-interference with the religious opinions of the natives is a principle that should never even for a moment be neglected.’ They also admitted that, since Chinsura schools had not ‘offended the prejudice of the natives,’ they ‘approved 200 rupees a month that the government gave to May’s schools.’119 Soon Gordon forbs fell ill and moved to the Cape of Good Hope in November 1819. The government appointed a missionary, I. D. Pearson, as superintendent of these schools with a salary of 200 rupees. Pearson was not interested in education and quickly converted all the schools into ‘Bell’s system of education and translated Bell’s work into Bengali.’120 This development points to two important things. First, the indigenous schoolteachers were unaware of Bell’s system of Monitorial schools, though Bell claimed that he had observed the method of teaching in the indigenous schools and prepared his system. It was not a popular move, and the schools gradually faded into oblivion. This episode also shows the government’s refusal to support the education of Indians. Governor-general Hastings did not like the fact that the schools had an overwhelming number of what the government called ‘pupils from not-respectable background.’ May’s schools had 245 Brahmin, 368 Kayastha, and 240 Muslim students. 61

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However it also had 367 Sadgopa, 275 Gopa, and 955 Hindu low-caste students.121 During 1820–1825, Pearson reduced the standard of instruction in these schools and did not take government money. Consequently, the strength of the students fell considerably. In 1825, the government reduced the 36 schools into 16 schools. The only school to survive was the Chinsura English School, which had European, Hindu, and Muslim students studying the Bible, Sanskrit, English, history, geography, and astronomy.122

Serampore College – 1818 Carey, Marshman, and Ward established the Serampore College in 1818, and 37 students joined immediately. Of them, 19 were Christian, 14 Hindu, and four were described as ‘having neither caste nor religion,’123 which meant that they were from untouchable castes. This college taught Christian theology, Sanskrit, Arabic, Persian, Bengali, and modern sciences through a Bengali medium. It was intellectual curiosity that enabled these boys to join Serampore College, because it was only in 1828 that English was introduced as a subject.124 ‘The Serampore College allowed full liberty of conscience. No Hindu or Muslim youth was to be constrained to do any act as a condition of enjoying the benefit of the institution, which could be repugnant to his conscientious feelings.’125 Marshman explained that ‘the object of the school is not to bring about immediate conversions, but rather enable people to see things just as they are when their understanding matured.’126 In 1834, Serampore College had 48 native Christian and 34 Brahmin and upper-caste students ‘pursue their studies together in Sanskrit, Bengali, English, Aristotle, Bacon, and scripture.’ The Brahmin and upper-caste boys ‘neither ate in the college nor did anything that might compromise their caste, but daily attended the lectures.’ They did not object to Sanskrit being taught to native Christian boys, but it was the ‘friends’ of the missionaries ‘in India and England who censured the managers of the college’ for doing so.127 The enthusiasm for modern education and support to missionary schools was not limited to Bengal alone. In 1818 at Banaras, Jai Narain donated a building and 5,000 pounds to Danial Corrie to establish a school to ‘raise up his fellow countrymen from the deplorable state into which they had fallen.’128 Jai Narain asked Corrie to make this a free school ‘by means of which the poorer classes of his countrymen might receive education.’ Corrie established a school within four months, and 116 boys joined immediately.129 Later, Jai Narain added an enormous amount to the school’s endowment.130 The Fisher’s Memoir mentions that this school had 200 Hindu and Muslim boys, and the school admitted students ‘without regard to caste or country.’ A number of poor children were given food and clothing. The minimum age for admission was 7, and the school had seven classes. The subjects taught in this school included English, Hindustani, Persian, Bengali, general history, geography, and astronomy. In 1825, his son Colli Sunkar Ghosal gave 62

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20,000 rupees to the school. The Fisher’s Memoir mentions that the government paid 250 rupees a month to the school.131 In Bombay the earliest school was established by Richard Cobbe in 1719.132 The Bombay Education Society was established for the education of the poor European and Eurasian children. English and the Bible were taught in these schools. Native boys outnumbered European and Eurasian boys. In 1817 two more schools were established at Surat and Thana and another in 1820 at Broach. The Surat school had four European and 32 native boys, the Thana school had ten European and 15 native boys, and the school at Broach had six European and 14 native boys.133 In the Bombay Presidency, the officials observed that the natives are not by any means averse to the introduction of our scriptures even, . . . all natives believe in a God, and all believe that truth and honesty and charity and whatever is great and good, are essential to that respectability and honour, not to say happiness.134 The officers noticed that it was not just people in Bombay but also people in remote villages who were not averse to sending their children to schools where the Bible was taught as a part of the curriculum. The secretary to the government attributed it to ‘the easy tolerant spirit of Hinduism . . . to use even our religious books for their children.’135 This was not limited to Hindus; M ­ uslims, too, were equally enthusiastic in pursuing modern education. The first native boy to enter the Bombay Education Society School was a Muslim.136 In Madras the missionaries established schools in Vepary and Cuddulore in the late eighteenth century.137 In 1819, Hugh, the chaplain, established two schools at Palamkottai and Tinnevelli. Natives of all castes attended and showed no resentment to study the Bible. Initially, the government gave 25 rupees a month to run the schools but discontinued it soon.138 Strict rules for assisting schools were consistent elsewhere. A school at Cochin started by William Chaplain in 1824 had 62 boys consisting of Protestant, Catholic European, upper-caste Hindu, and native Christian boys: The school was conducted on the principle of Protestant church, children of every rank and persuasion attended. Children were provided with books gratis. . . . The late school master got his monthly salary from the revenue cutcherry (office) at this place. 139 Non-cooperation of the new Collector led to the closing down of school. The European and Indian residents of Cochin requested assistance from the government to reopen the school. The government refused to assist the school as ‘there are no written rules for conducting the school.’140 Again, such interaction was not limited to common people. The German missionary Christian Friedrich Schwartz (1726–1798) came to Tiruchirapalli 63

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in 1750, where he worked as a chaplain in the garrison. He established a school in 1772. When he visited Tanjavur in 1769, its king, Tuljaji, not only supported his activities but also placed his adopted son and heir to the throne, Serfoji, in the hands of Schwartz for education. Ten-year-old Serfoji and an 11-year-old native Christian boy, Veda Nayakam, lived in a house with Schwartz and studied. When Serfoji became the king, he built a church and the St. Peter’s School as a token of gratitude. Veda Nayakam became a court poet, and both of them promoted the study of modern sciences.141 The schools established by missionaries across India did not transplant the curriculum from England to India. The missionary curriculum was partly based on indigenous schools and partly innovative. As in indigenous schools, Bengali, Marathi, Tamil, and other vernaculars remained the medium of instruction, and children learnt vernacular grammar, arithmetic, names of Sanskrit texts and the authors. They also studied Aesop’s Fables, historical anecdotes, the geography of India and Asia, the history of India and Asia, chronology, and the solar system. The subject of ethics taught in these schools was based partly on the Hitopadesa – a Sanskrit text – and partly on the Bible.142 The missionary schools were free, and the teachers were paid a salary. They co-opted indigenous school teachers. Christian teaching was conveyed by non-Christian teachers who were supposed to ensure that the boys learnt the religious literature prescribed.143 In 1836, the mission schools in Burdwan consisted of Eurasian, Muslim, Kayastha, and Brahmin masters. Among the students, there were 53 Brahmin, 36 Kayastha, six Muslim, five Vaishnava, three Kshatriya, three Baidya, and 12 from artisanal caste.144 There was not a single instance of a Brahmin boy ever left the school upon the admission of a lower caste boy or resented when the lower caste boys often out-performed them. Brahmin boys freely mixed with lower castes and showed no resentment.145 Missionaries fought for the rights of the local population from the very beginning. At times missionaries were successful. For example, Joseph Taylor, after witnessing the execution of a Kannada peasant in Dharwar district, fought for the recognition of Kannada as a court language in the Bombay Presidency in 1836. This entirely Kannada-speaking district had Marathispeaking village and district officers because of the pre-colonial Peshwa rule. The system was continued under the colonial rule. The execution had taken place because the peasant charged with murder had given his testimonial in Kannada, which was recorded in Marathi by the native official, and the court proceeding was conducted in Hindustani. The prisoner, ignorant of both Marathi and Hindustani, unwillingly expressed assent to the confession. There was no circumstantial evidence against him. He was charged 64

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with murder and later executed. Taylor effectively fought for the introduction of Kannada as the language of administration and education. Within six months Kannada was made a court language, and 27 Kannada primary schools were established in the district.146 When the missionaries set out from Europe ‘to convert the heathens,’ they had very little idea about India, its people, and their culture. Once they landed in India, though appalled by superstitious practices like idolatry and sati, they were equally impressed with the cultural and literary achievements. Most of the early missionaries studied Sanskrit; William Carey translated the Ramayana and considered that Mahabharata was written in exquisite language and compared it with Homer’s Iliad. William Ward praised the Hindus for having attained ‘very extensive learning.’147 So Hindus were virtuous in the beginning and had become corrupted with superstitious practices over a period of time. According to W.W. Hunter, the elite British officer and chairman of the Indian Education Commission, The modern missionary to the Hindus takes the tone in which the great proselytising apostle addressed the Brahmins of Europe at Athens; he quotes their literature, and starting from their devotion at their own alter he labours to support an ignorant worship by an enlightened faith.148 However, the missionaries could not agree with the Hindu view that it is possible to find God through various ways and through any religion. Islam as a part of shared Semitic tradition received very little attention from the missionaries; it was always the Hindu idolatry and superstitions which the missionaries constantly addressed. The Calcutta School Book Society was established in 1817 to print school books. It had both European and Indian members. W. B. Bayley was its president, while the important Indian members were Radhakant Deb, Wamanundun Tagore, Tarini Charan Mitra, Ram Komul Sen, Hyder Ulee, Mohamad Rasheed, Mohammad Sueed, Ubdool Humeed, and Curreem Hossyn. The school textbooks printed by the Society were very popular. By 1821, the Society had printed a total of 126,446 copies, and in Bengal alone the number of children using these books was not less than 9,000.149 Beside these several thousand copies of Bengali, history, and arithmetic textbooks, 10,000 copies of geography and 16,000 copies of ethics (Neeti Kotha, or moral tales) textbooks had been printed by the Society.150 It published books in English, Bengali, Hindi, Sanskrit, Oriya, Urdu, Persian, Khasia, and Santali.151 According to Koji Kawashima, the idea that the Christian missions were ‘the handmaiden of imperialism’ is certainly overly simplistic. The Maharaja of Travancore established a free school in 1836 where the Bible was taught until the turn of the century. In other words, the Travancore 65

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state did not mind its students, many of whom would become government officials, to learn about Christianity in school.152 W. W. Hunter grudgingly admitted that no class of Englishman receive so much unbought kindness from the Indian people while they live; no individual Englishman are so honestly regretted when they die, what aged viceroy ever received the posthumous honour of affection accorded to the Presbyterian Duff by the native press?153 The early British and Indian interaction was cordial beyond the realms of power struggle because of the recruitment system of the EIC. The coming of the British aristocracy towards the end of the eighteenth century changed it. Still, the liberal British officers, civilians, missionaries, and Indians joined hands in establishing modern educational institutions. Though the missionaries taught the Bible and aimed at conversion, the missionary education actually promoted independent thinking and produced a generation of radical reformers, not converts. The Indians who embraced modern education did not embrace Christianity. It points to two important aspects–the intellectual curiosity of the Indians and the liberal spirit of the few Europeans.

Notes 1 Appendix to the Report 1832, 211–212. 2 See Misra, The Central administration of the East India Company. 3 Edwards, The Necessary Hell, 33. 4 Torri, ‘Surat During the Second Half of the Eighteenth Century,’ 683–687. 5 Late Resident of India, Bristol Papers, 96. There were reports of royal salutes being offered during Hindu and Muslim festivals like Pongal and Ramzan, 5–9. 6 Cassels, Social Legislation of the East India Company, 246. 7 Copland, ‘Christianity as an Arm of Empire,’ 1033. 8 Bowen, ‘The East India Company’s Education,’ 105. 9 Harrington, Sir John Malcolm and the Creation of British India, 15–17, 22, 40. 10 Ballhatchet, Social Policy, 292. 11 Stein, Thomas Munro, 6–10. 12 Arbuthnot, Major-General Sir Thomas Munro, Vol. I, xxxiii. 13 Misra, The Central Administration, 8. 14 Marshall, ‘British Society in India,’ 93–95. 15 Carton, Mixed-Race, 46. 16 For more such examples see Zaidi, ‘European Mercenaries in Indian Armies,’ 55–83. 17 Carton, Mixed-Race, 1. 18 Misra, The Central Administration, 8, Metcalf, Ideologies of the Raj, 24. 19 Gardner, The East India Company, 126. 20 Carton, Mixed–Race, 25–32. 21 Marshall, ‘British Society in India,’ 93–95. 22 Appendix to the Report 1832, 54–56, 76–77.

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23 For instance, in Masulipattanam the children of Dr Andrew Patterson, a surgeon, and his wife Chittagalu Venkataratnam were raised as Hindu. They were named Mahalakshmi and Veeraraghavalu; they also had English names, Augusta Mary and John Carmichael. They were aged 15 and 14 at the time of Patterson’s death. His will gave 8,000 rupees to his daughter, 10,000 to his son and 3,000 to his wife and wanted both the children to be sent to England for education. When the court appointed a CMS missionary as guardians of children, both the mother and children objected to be treated as Christian. The newspaper reported it as the case of ‘illegitimate children of a British surgeon from a ­Hindoo woman.’Asiatic Journal, January–April 1843, 120–121. 24 Hawes, Poor Relations, 5–7. For example, Charles Metcalf, who became acting governor-general, publically acknowledged his son from his Sikh wife and left him 50,000 pounds, Ibid, 166. 25 Ibid, 37. 26 Ibid, 55–56. 27 Ibid, 79–89. 28 Edwards, The Necessary Hell, 33, Gardner, The East India Company, 126. 29 Edwards, Warren Hastings, 152. 30 Macaulay, Critical and Historical Essays, Vol. I, 517–521. Later Edmund Burke’s attack on Hastings was alsoguided by the latter’s common birth. Burke called Hastings ‘origin as low, obscure and vulgar,’ Lyall,Warren Hastings, 1. 31 Kopf, British Orientalism, 18, Macaulay, Warren Hastings, 11. 32 Minute by the Warren Hastings, the 17 April 1781. Sharp, Educational Records, 7–9. The amount was later reimbursed by the EIC. 33 Reports from Committees: East India Company’s Affairs, Vol. IX, 1831–32, 397. 34 Dodson, Orientalism, Empire and National Culture, 55–58. 35 Misra, The Central Administration, 10, 269. 36 Gleig, The Life of Major-General Sir Thomas Munro, 187. 37 Minute by Thomas Munro 4 January 1825, Appendix to the Report 1832, 356–357. 38 Parliamentary Papers, Thomas Munro’s Evidence 13 April 1812, 488. 39 Appendix to the Report, 1832, 48. 40 Ibid, 6. 41 Ibid, 73–78. 42 Ibid, 15–20. 43 Ibid. 44 Grant, ‘Observations on the State of Society,’ 212. 45 Ibid, 191–197. 46 Morris, The Life of Charles Grant, 2. Jacobites of Scotland rebelled against English rule in 1715, 1719, and 1745. Grant’s father took part in the rebellion of 1745. 47 Grant, ‘Observations on the State of Society,’ 41. 48 Ibid, 19. 49 Ibid, 153. 50 Ibid. 51 Ibid, 158. 52 Ibid, 146. 53 Ibid, 77. 54 Ibid, 148–152. 55 Ibid, 159. 56 Ibid, 191. 57 Philips, The East India Company, 1784–1834, 155–158.

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58 Minute by Thomas Munro, 6 April 1827, 125–129, Sir Thomas Munro, Additional Manuscript No 22077. 59 Kopf, British Orientalism, 45–48, Bowen, ‘The East India Company’s Education,’ 107. 60 Minute by governor-general Wellesley, 18 August 1800, Parliamentary Branch, Papers Related to the East India Company, 1812, Vol. 10, 3–5. 61 Ibid, 23. 62 Memoranda related to the College of Fort William, Board Collections, No. 21357. 63 Kopf, British Orientalism, 45–48. 64 Bowen, ‘The East India Company’s Education,’ 108. 65 Minute by governor-general Wellesley, 88. 66 Roebuck, The Annals of the College of Fort William, xliii–xliv. 67 Ibid, 14–21. 68 Kopf, British Orientalism, 67–70. 69 Ibid, 235. 70 Bowen, ‘The East India Company’s Education,’ 118. 71 Parliamentary Branch, Papers Related to the East India Company, 1812, Vol. 10, 7–12. 72 Board Collections, No. 19265, Military letter from Bombay, 30 April 1822, The Necessity of Obtaining Male Recruits Over 20 Years. 73 Appendix to the Report 1832, 42. 74 Ibid, 24. 75 Law, Promotion of Learning in India, 120–124. 76 Majumdar, First Fruits of English Education,1973, 10. 77 Appendix to Report 1832, 23. 78 Law, Promotion of Learning in India, 13–34. 79 Board Collections, No. 16281, From Collector of Madras to the Secretary of Board of Revenue, 23 October 1817. 80 Appendix to the Report 1832, 221. 81 Report of the Board of Education 1840–1841, 18. 82 General Department, 12 of 1820, petition 29 September 1820. 83 Bombay Education Consultations, 1826, Elphinstone to Stubbs 29 November 1826. 84 Ibid, 279 of 1833, Petition 19 September 1832, and the government reply, 11 March 1833. 85 Appendix to the Report 1832, 401. 86 Adam’s Report, 36–37. 87 Edwards, Henry Derozio: The Eurasian Poet, Teacher and Journalist, 5–6. 88 Adam’s Report, 51. 89 Ibid, 70. 90 Ibid, 307.The school had ten Kayastha, three each of Brahmin and Muslim, two each of Vaidya and Rajput, one each of Sadgop, Mali, and Christian boys. The school was funded by a local zamindar. 91 Frykenberg, ‘Modern Education in South India,’ 47. 92 Frykenberg, ‘The Myth of English as a “Colonialist” Imposition upon India,’ 309. 93 Chaudhury, Derozio, Poet of India, L–Liv. 94 Appendix to the Report 1832, 212. 95 Ibid. 96 Report on the Colleges and Schools for Native Education 1831, 27. The spellings of the non-English texts have been slightly modified to modern usage eg. Amer Cosa as Amara Kosha and so on.

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97 Kitzan, ‘London Missionary Society,’ 458. 98 Cowherd, ‘The Politics of English Dissent, 1832–1848,’ 136. 99 They could enter these universities only when the Test Acts were removed in 1871. 100 Laird, Missionaries and Education, 116. 101 Kitzan, ‘London Missionary Society,’ 457–459. 102 Ibid, 457–473. 103 Annual Report, Letter by W. Reeve 13 February 1818, 161. 104 Appendix to the Report, 1832, Regulation no 23 and 27 of 1814, 121. 105 Laird, Missionaries and Education, 63. 106 Ibid, 37–38. 107 In Bengal mothers used to vow to dedicate their first-born boy or girl to the holy river Ganga at Sagar islands where Ganga flows in to the sea. Laird, Missionaries and Education, 55–58. 108 Laird, Missionaries and Education, 119. 109 Adam’s Report, 9. 110 Board Collections, No. 15371, Report on the Native free schools at Chinsura, Bengal Judicial letter 1 December 1819, Nos. 43–45. 111 GCPI, vol. No. 49, Report on the Chinsura Schools, Bayley to Gordon Forbs, 11 July 1815. 112 GCPI Vol. No. 50, Bayley to Gordon Forbs, 21 February 1817. 113 Board Collections, No. 15371 Letter from Gordon Forbs to W.B. Bayley, Secretary to the government, Fort William, 18 September 1818. 114 Laird, Missionaries and Education, 80. 115 Ibid, 117. 116 Ibid, 130. 117 Board Collections, No. 15371 Report on the Native free schools at Chinsura, Bengal Judicial letter 1 December 1819, Nos. 43–45. 118 Ibid, Letter from W. B. Bayley secretary to the government to G. Forbs 18 September 1818. 119 Board Collections, No. 18715, Judicial Letter to Bengal 13 December 1820. However, Fisher’s Memoir states that the government gave 84,000 rupees during 1815–1824. Appendix to the Report1832, 208. It is highly unlikely that Hasting’s government paid 800 rupees a month to these schools. 120 GCPIC, Vol. No. 49/2, Bayley Chief secretary to the government to the governorgeneral, 16 April 1821. 121 Ibid. 122 GCPIC, Vol. No. 50/1, Statement Respecting Chinsura Free School 1 January 1826, H.H. Wilson to H. Wood, Accountant General. 123 Howells, The Story of Serampore and Its College, 19. 124 Laird, Missionaries and Education, 142–144. 125 Howells, The Story of Serampore and Its College, 18. 126 Laird, Missionaries and Education, 87. 127 Adam’s Report, 65. 128 The Report of the Church Missionary Society 1818–19, 137–145. 129 Memoirs of Right Rev. Deniel Corrie, 312. 130 Church Missionary Society Register 1819, 416–417. 131 Appendix to the Report 1832, 209, 404. 132 Law, Promotion of Learning in India, 79. 133 Seventh Annual Report of the Bombay Education Society, 48–52. 134 Letter from T.B. Jervis the government 8 September 1824, John A. Dunlop collector of South Konkan to the government, 14 September 1824, General Department, No 13 of 1824, Vol. 63 of 1824.

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135 General Department, 13 of 1824, John A. Dunlop to the Secretary to the government 14 September 1824. 136 First Annual Report of the Bombay Education Society, 14. 137 Law, Promotion of Learning in India, 37–38. 138 Appendix to the Report, 221. 139 Boards Consultations 1833–34, No. 55047, Letters to the Principal Collector and Magistrate of Malabar, signed by Europeans and Indians 20 June 1832, and 2 July 1832, Letter from the inhabitants of Cochin to the government of Madras, 14 December 1832. 140 Ibid. 141 Peterson, ‘Tanjore, Tranquebar, and Halle,’ 93–105. 142 Laird, Missionaries and Education, 78. 143 Ibid, 168–171. 144 Ibid, 302–303. 145 Ibid, 115. 146 Board Collections, No. 1674, Judicial Letter, 23 of 1836, Substitution of Canarese for the Mahratta language in the Southern Mahratta Country. 147 Laird, Missionaries and Education, 55–56. 148 Hunter, The India of the Queen and Other Essays, 220. 149 Board Collections, No. 18715, Letter from C.S. Montague, Secretary Calcutta School Book Society to sec to government 11 May 1821. 150 Laird, Missionaries and Education, 103. 151 The Calcutta School Book Society the Twentieth Report Calcutta, 1858, Education 10 February 1860–1–3(A). 152 Kawashima, Missionaries and a Hindu State, 54–85. 153 Hunter, India of the Queen, 216.

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4 EDUCATIONAL POLICIES IN BENGAL AND NORTH INDIA, 1810–1834

Little doubt can be entertained that the prevalence of the crimes of perjury and forgery so frequently noticed in the official reports, is in a great measure ascribable, both in the Muhammadans and Hindoos to the want of due instruction in the moral and religious tenets of their respective faiths. – Education Minute by Minto, 6 March 18111

Bengal and North India Many of the policy decisions covered in this chapter, such as the Education Minutes of Minto and Hastings and the Charter Act of 1813, although intended for the entire British India, were in most cases implemented in Bengal and North India. The education of British North India, an area covering Ajmer in Rajasthan to Gorakhpur in eastern Uttar Pradesh, was under the Bengal Presidency during this period, and all decisions were taken at Calcutta. Bengal and North India were the most coveted places in India, and the aristocratic English officers got their postings there, while Englishmen and Scotsmen from poorer backgrounds were posted to the dry and arid Madras Presidency. The Bengal Presidency and North India had fertile land and were close to the heart of the empire. The working conditions were better and remunerations were higher.2 Even the prize money for passing the mandatory examination in either Sanskrit or Arabic was beyond comparison. In Madras, it was 1,000 rupees, while in Bengal it was 5,000 rupees.3 So the educational policy here was controlled by aristocratic English officers who had already denied education to the poor in England. Many of these officers were scholars of Oriental languages and have been called Orientalists.

A note on the Orientalists Conventionally, all those European scholars of Oriental languages and literature from William Jones onwards have been described as the Orientalists. There is a need to make a clear distinction between Sanskrit scholars such 71

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as William Jones, who was guided by Enlightenment ideas of respecting all cultures, and language experts like H. T. Prinsep, H. H. Wilson, and others, who acquired Oriental languages as a means of getting coveted positions in the administration. As early as 1788 William Jones had declared that ‘no satisfactory account can be given of any nation, with whose language we are not perfectly acquainted.’ To the Orientalists, ‘every accumulation of knowledge about people over whom we exercise dominion founded on the right of conquest, is useful to the state.’4 The reason to learn Sanskrit and Indian vernaculars was fundamentally different for both groups. To the British Sanskrit and vernacular scholars, the purpose was to understand other cultures and literatures, guided by European Enlightenment ideas; to the Orientalists, it was an instrument of domination guided by the right of conquest. Jones and others were rationalists and Universalists and brought together Indian and European scholars under the aegis of the Asiatic Society, while Prinsep and Wilson had a pronounced disdain towards Indian intellect. They regarded Indians as inferior and incapable of understanding Western knowledge and hence argued that they should be taught only Arabic and Sanskrit.5 In South India, the Orientalist Francis Whyte Ellis strongly argued for the existence of a separate family of ‘Dravidian languages.’ For centuries the Tamil, Telugu, Kannada, and Malayalam scholars regarded Sanskrit as the mother of these languages. In 1810, Ellis rejected a Telugu text and the Tamil grammar manuscript of Subbaraya Mutaliyar which had been praised as ‘concise and correct’ by other Tamil scholars as these two texts ‘failed to recognise the independence of Dravidian languages.’ Under Ellis’s direction, grammars which emphasised a separate Dravidian entity were published in all the four South Indian languages. These early grammars laid the foundation of a separate ‘Dravidian’ entity to these languages.6 In North India, Prinsep and Wilson upheld the caste hierarchies in education and employment and added English class dimension to it. This complicated the existing social stratification. In the pre-colonial education system, both Sanskrit and vernacular schools were flooded with students from poorer backgrounds. Economic background was not the basis for respectability. Poor scholars had more respectability in both Hindu and Islamic societies than the ignorant rich. The Orientalists consistently sneered at the students from ‘miserable background’ and harped on admitting only ‘wards of respectable classes.’ H. H. Wilson opposed teaching English to lower-class Muslims and called the students of the Calcutta Madrassa ‘a very inferior class of scholars particularly sons of domestic servants.’7 Testifying before the British Parliamentary Committee, Wilson opposed the establishment of universities in India by arguing that, ‘I confess, I cannot imagine that any good would arise from it.’8 The establishment of Arabic and Sanskrit colleges began in the eighteenth century out of admiration for Oriental languages, and literature subsequently 72

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­ odern became a rigid state policy aimed towards preventing the spread of m education. Warren Hastings and Jonathan Duncan, who established the Calcutta Madrassa and the Sanskrit College at Banaras, placed these ­ ­institutions under Muslim and Hindu scholars, while Wilson insisted on placing every Oriental institution under the European s­ uperintendents.9 The Orientalists held feudal and extremely reactionary ideas. H.T. ­Colebrooke supported an extension of the Bengal-like permanent settlement for the whole of India.10 Wilson defended sati and opposed its abolition.11 The B ­ ritish elite officers and the Orientalists worked together as a powerful group to prevent the introduction of modern education by arguing that Indians would at best be a ‘promiscuous crowd of English smatterers.’12 They also reinforced and strengthened the caste hierarchy and the appalling position of women. So this work makes a clear distinction between British scholars of oriental languages and the Orientalists.

Education minute of Minto – 1811, educational policy as a civilising mission Governor-general Minto (1807–1813), a Scottish aristocrat, was against the introduction of modern education in India. His Education Minute, cosigned by H.T. Colebrooke, was considered the guiding principle of the colonial education policy until Macaulay’s Education Minute of 1835. Minto argued that crime was widespread among the natives and that it could be corrected by ‘a dread of the punishments denounced both in this world and in a future state by their respective religious opinions.’13 Minto had studied at the University of Edinburgh and under Scottish philosopher David Hume in Paris. This was the direct link by which Scottish Enlightenment ideas may have come to India. It is unlikely that any amount of Hume’s rationalism and humanism could erase Minto’s aristocratic disdain for ordinary people. Minto envisaged the priests as the agents of imperial agenda of keeping the native population subservient. So in order to teach religion to the Hindus and Muslims, Minto proposed to set up two Sanskrit colleges at Nadia and Tirhut and two Madrasas at Bhagalpur and Jaunpur. The pundits refused to accept the offer. It is interesting to note that most of the pundits of Nadia taught only the Dharmasastras and no other Sanskrit text14 – Minto wanted only this curriculum to be taught in Sanskrit colleges, for a high salary. The pundits refused to accept large sums of money from the British to continue to do what they had been doing for free for so long.15At that time, the Brahmins who studied the Dharmasastras easily got the posts of law officers in the administration. Therefore, the Brahmins were assured of patronage for both their education and employment, yet they refused both. Minto had bigger plans for Tirhut in north Bihar. Here, he wanted to establish the biggest Sanskrit college, and sanctioned 100,000 rupees for the construction of a grand building.16 Again, the Sanskrit pundits refused to cooperate. Minto 73

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admitted that ‘most learned pundits have invariably refused the situation of Sanskrit professor, although the salary attached to it is liberal.’17 Unlike vernacular teachers, the Sanskrit teachers could not take fees from students, as there were religious injunctions against it. Often the Sanskrit teacher had to teach for free and feed and maintain the students. In spite of poverty they refused British patronage. The salary that was offered to Sanskrit professors was 100 rupees a month, and each college was to be maintained at a cost of 12,876 rupees. Though the government maintained that, during 1817–1818 and 1822–1823, it paid 77,256 and 76,452 rupees to Nadia and Tirhut Colleges, respectively, no payment was actually made.18

The Charter Act of 1813 The East India Company was working in India under a charter from the British parliament, and it had to be renewed every twenty years. When the charter came up for renewal in 1813, it faced two important issues. First, the wars undertaken by governor-general Wellesley during 1798–1805 had drained the EIC’s resources. Second, Napoleon’s Continental System and the Berlin Decrees19 curtailed the EIC’s re-export of Indian goods to the continent, and in England itself cheap, machine-made textiles began to undercut the sale of Indian piece goods. Sales declined sharply, and huge quantities of goods lay unsold by 1808. The French also inflicted huge losses by sinking ships in the Indian Ocean containing the EIC’s goods. Total EIC debt, which was eight million pounds in 1793, now stood at 32 million pounds sterling.20 A critical and exhaustive analysis of the EIC’s balance sheet was dreaded by the directors. In this greatly weakened financial position Charles Grant and Edward Perry, two of the 24 directors, become powerful. They argued that inhuman and superstitious practices like sati could be eradicated through missionaries and introduction of modern education in India. The other 22 directors insisted on non-interference in the internal matters of the Indian society and limiting British interest to trade and maintenance of peace within the British territories. Grant and Perry were supported by William Wilberforce, Zachary Macaulay, and their Clapham associates, who were also campaigning for the abolition of slavery in the British-ruled territories across the world.21 They pleaded for the despatch of schoolmasters to India and tabled a resolution in the British Parliament ‘that it is the peculiar and bounden duty of the British Legislature to promote by all just and prudent means the interest and happiness of the inhabitants of the British dominions in India.’22 With such strong support, the Charter Act included section No. 43d to direct the government to provide not less than one lakh rupees (100,000 rupees or 10,000 pounds) each year . . . applied to the revival and improvement of 74

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literature and the encouragement of the learned natives of India and for the introduction and promotion of a knowledge of the sciences amongst the inhabitants of the British territories in India: and that any schools, public lectures, or other institutions for the purpose aforesaid, which shall be founded at the Presidencies of Bengal, Bombay and Madras, or in any other parts of the British territories in India.23 According to Surendranath Banerjea, the author of this clause, Robert Percy Smith had worked as an advocate-general of Bengal and ‘championed the cause of people’s rights and liberties.’24 The educational budget of 100,000 rupees per year for the whole of British India was a very modest sum. It was far less than a governor-general’s salary.25 However, this clause is important for two reasons. First, the British Parliament accepted state responsibility for public education for India even before it accepted it for England, which was done after a long fight in 1833. Second, it became a rallying point for British and Indian liberal reformers to consistently demand the introduction of modern education in India.

Despatch from the Court of Directors – 1814, undermining the Charter Act of 1813 The pressure from the supporters of the modern education was short lived. Once the Charter Act was passed, the interest of the EIC was secure for the next twenty years. The British assertion over Napoleon also promised the EIC a bright future. The directors decided to subvert the provision of 100,000 rupees earmarked for education. They argued that ‘the natives of caste and of reputation will not submit to the subordination and discipline of a college’ and wrote to governor-general Hastings (Moira) to ‘direct special attention to Banaras’ and enquire ‘what ancient establishments still exist for the diffusion of knowledge in Benares, and in what way their present establishments might be improved to most advantage.’ They advised Hastings to honour Arabic and Sanskrit scholars by ‘introducing a gradation of honorary distinction as the reward of merit, by the public presentation of ornaments of dress.’ They also suggested ‘that there are in the Sanskrit language many excellent systems of ethics with codes of laws, and compendiums of the duties relating to every class of the people.’ They argued that these measures are ‘essential to the permanent interest of the British empire in India.’ They advised Hastings to submit his plan to the Court of Directors before taking any decision.26 This despatch was written by the director of the East India Company, W. F. Elphinstone, the uncle of Mountstuart Elphinstone and grand uncle of John Elphinstone, who later became the governors of Bombay and Madras Presidencies, respectively.27 The younger Elphinstones in India opposed the introduction of modern education and abolished the 75

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existing schools.28 Opposing the education of Indians could be called a family project of the Elphinstones. In the next letter, the Court of Directors upheld the government of India’s decision to establish Madrassas and Sanskrit colleges in accordance with Minto’s Education Minute of 1811. They emphatically stated that few Bengali Brahmins are competent to instruct in any one branch of Sanskrit literature . . . they are deplorably deficient in classical grammar, poetry, legendry or puranic history, science and philosophy. A seminary for extending the cultivation of the most valuable branches of Hindu literature in Bengal is urgently required.29 The despatch from the Court of Directors and the subsequent letter defeated the objectives of the education clause of the Charter Act of 1813.

Education minute of Hastings, 1815 Governor-general Hastings (Moira) had been a veteran of several military campaigns when the British lost their territories in America. He had clearly identified modern education as a catalyst in helping the British colonies in America to declare independence. Hasting’s Minute, written somewhere ‘on the River Ganges,’ argued that ‘it certainly does not appear to have ever been the intention of the laws enacted by the British government to lessen the obligation of religion, or to weaken the proper influence of the priesthood.’ In order to have ‘awe and adoration of the Supreme Being earnestly instilled’ and ‘improvement of general morals,’ he proposed ‘to furnish the village schoolmasters with little manuals of religious sentiments and ethic maxims.’ He further argued that ‘beneficial revolution should arise under British sway.’30 These measures were unpopular. Hastings admitted five years later that his educational policy was a ‘failure’ and ‘has gone far to destroy the influence which the liberality of the endeavour would otherwise have had.’31 Still, he proposed for the establishment of a Sanskrit college at Calcutta. Hastings did not utilise the annual allocation for education during his long tenure, 1813–1823. Though the actual allocation was 100,000 rupees, or 10,000 pounds, the government of India showed the sum as 5,129 pounds, of which Madras and Bombay got only 480 and 422 pounds, respectively, while the Bengal government appropriated 4,207 pounds. So, during 1813–1821, the Bengal government got 37,863 pounds out of a total of 46,161 pounds, which it showed as ‘applied to the purpose of education.’32 However, very little was spent on education, and almost the entire sum remained with the government.

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When the Charter Act of 1813 earmarked 100,000 rupees, William Carey came up with a plan of dividing the whole country into circles of about 150 miles diameter, in the middle of each of which should reside one superintendent of all the schools within the district which should be conducted by native teachers under his direction. For this purpose, Carey said, the designated amount would not be sufficient, and he suggested making appeals to Indians and Europeans. Carey also suggested admitting Indians into the College of Fort William to study European sciences. The government did not agree to these proposals.33

The Vidyalaya – abode of learning, 1817 Frustrated by the government’s refusal to support modern education, the liberal British officers, non-officials, Indian reformers, and the people of Calcutta came together to establish the first modern educational institution in India. They named the institution Vidyalaya, or ‘abode of learning.’ David Hare, a watchmaker from Aberdeen, Scotland, came to Calcutta in 1800 and was closely involved with the Hindu social reform movement initiated by Rammohan Roy. In 1816, Hare and Roy prepared a proposal for establishing a school. This proposal drew support from not only fellow liberals but also their opponents; Radhakant Deb, a staunch defender of sati, joined them. The enthusiasm for English education was not limited to Indian reformers; even the orthodox sections desired it. In 1816, the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court at Calcutta ‘was struck with the enthusiasm of the prominent pundits, Sanskrit scholars, for the introduction of western literature and sciences.’34 The enthusiasm can be measured in terms of public contribution to the Vidyalaya. While the annual educational budget for the entire British India was 100,000 rupees, the people of Calcutta alone contributed 113,179 rupees towards the establishment of the Vidyalaya.35 When the Vidyalaya was established in 1817, Hare donated the land he owned to the institution. Later, Hare established several schools across Calcutta.36 The Vidyalaya had two divisions: a Pathasala (school) and a Maha Pathasala (academy). The managers and supporters of this institution solicited pecuniary assistance and also requested the governor-general to become a patron of the institution. The Orientalists were hostile, and the government did not extend any support. Since the institution was run through public contribution alone, the managers wanted the Vidyalaya students who had opted for Sanskrit to attend classes at the Sanskrit College.37 Though H.H. Wilson’s name appears in the list of the original ten British and

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20 Indian members of the Vidyalaya, he refused to call it a college or allow it to have any connection with the Sanskrit College, where he was the secretary.38 The Vidyalaya was called by the British as ‘the Hindu college’ as its founders were predominantly Hindus. However, the Calcutta Sanskrit College was also called in the official records as ‘the Hindu College,’ as only Hindus could be admitted to it. It is very difficult to comprehend in the first instance whether the reference to the Hindu College in official documents denotes the Vidyalaya or the Sanskrit College. Some of the records refer in the same sentence to the Hindu College (the Sanskrit College) and the native Hindu College (Vidyalaya). So the present work prefers to use the term Vidyalaya, as intended by the founders, instead of the Hindu College. The Vidyalaya was the first formal institution established in Asia to teach modern sciences through English as a medium of instruction. It was also the first one outside Europe and the United States. It taught works of British poets and dramatists, such as Shakespeare, Milton, Bacon, Byron, Pope, and Scott. It also taught Homer’s Iliad in English. Other subjects taught in the college included Bengali grammar, prose, and translation; Euclid, Algebra, Differential and Integral Calculus, and Trigonometry; Astronomy; Adam Smith’s Wealth of Nations; works of Jeremy Bentham, David Hume, and John Locke; and the histories of India, Greece, Rome, and England. The standard of education was so high that the college became a model to be emulated by the British for later colleges in Bombay and Madras Presidencies. The college also supplied teachers to other government institutions like the Banaras and Agra colleges.39 The Vidyalaya had no government support and levied 5 rupees as a monthly fee; it offered few free fellowships. However, there were far more poor students than the available scholarships. So in 1822 Rammohan Roy established a school with his own funds. This school taught the same subjects as the Vidyalaya but was free for all. This school was supported by his Indian and European friends.40 The Vidyalaya was a very successful private Indian endeavour until 1825. Its funds were invested in a private company called ‘Joseph Barretto and Sons,’ and when the company became bankrupt, the entire amount was lost. This made the college seek government support.41 This was resisted by H.H. Wilson and others Orientalists. Harrington, one of the members of the GCPI, derogatorily reported to the government that the institution ‘gives instruction chiefly in the English language to 37 Brahmin and 67 Shudra students.’42 This shows that the Orientalists classified the upper-caste Baidyas and Kayasthas as Shudras. Finally, the GCPI agreed to give 1,000 rupees towards the salaries of teachers. However, it actually gave only 300 rupees. In 1833, when Trevelyan and William Wilberforce Bird raised the issue, it agreed to give 400 rupees a year and asked the college authorities to ‘discontinue the services of the drawing master and take care of the expenses.’43 In spite of the financial difficulties, the Vidyalaya was a popular institution. In 1830, it was the biggest educational institution in India, with 436 boys, 78

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of whom 100 were given fee exemption for being poor. Its progress was regarded as ‘highly encouraging.’ Of the 123 prize winners in the annual examination, 19 were Brahmins, and the remaining 104 came from various non-Brahmin castes.44 Kashi Prasad Ghosh, a graduate of the Hindu College, published a volume of his English poetry – The Shair and Other Poems – in 1830, which made the British sit up and take notice. This upset the Orientalist argument that Indians would at best be ‘smatters of English language.’ This phenomenon was not limited to Calcutta; officials across India, even in the remotest parts, testified to the growing demand of Indians for English education.45

The effects of the Vidyalaya In the 1820s, the Dharmatola Academy, David Hare’s schools, and the Vidyalaya together made ‘the education in Calcutta as good as England.’ The Vidyalaya had a far-reaching effect on education in India. The proposal drafted by Rammohan Roy and David Hare was borrowed by colleges established during the first half of the nineteenth century, including the Elphinstone College.46 Henry Derozio, an important poet and teacher of this college, inspired an entire generation of students to hold truth as the greatest religion and adopt radical reform to eradicate injustice and superstitious practices in society. This dedicated teacher wrote a sonnet for his students of the Vidyalaya.47 The radical behaviour of Derozio and his students was not tolerated by the orthodoxy, and he was forced to resign. The students of the Vidyalaya were also the early educators. After completing their education, most of them were not lured by the glamour of the city life or jobs in mercantile houses of Calcutta. They went back to their villages, or wherever they found patronage, to set up English schools. Some of them worked as tutors, while affluent others set up free schools. Rasiklal Ghose went to Raipur, a small village in Beerbhum, where Jagmohan Singh built a school for him at a cost of 250 rupees and gave him a monthly salary of 40 rupees. Ghose taught 16 students English, history, and geography.48 In 1824, the GCPI found out that in the Hugli district there were ‘several private English schools in which the Hindu teachers gratuitously imparted instruction to number of children.’49 The GCPI admitted that the students of Vidyalaya ‘surpassed expectations, a command of English language and a familiarity with its literature and sciences have been acquired to an extent rarely equalled by any school in Europe . . . independent schools conducted by young men reared in the Vidyalaya are springing up everywhere.’50

Sanskrit College at Calcutta, 1821 After the Sanskrit pundits at Nadia and Tirhut refused to cooperate, Hastings and H.H. Wilson decided to establish Sanskrit College at Calcutta in 79

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1820. A sum of 30,000 rupees was sanctioned for its maintenance, and 120,000 rupees were earmarked towards the construction of the building. The college was opened on 21 February 1821.51 Admission was restricted to students who had already studied a little of Sanskrit grammar. The courses of study were to be covered during a period of 12 years. The Brahmin students studied the Vedas and Dharmasastras, while the boys belonging to Baidya caste studied logic and medicine in Sanskrit. The government defended its action against widespread opposition by arguing that ‘the object of a government is to encourage the study of Sanskrit’ because ‘it is obvious that a true and radical reform of a nation in learning and morality will begin and proceed with the improvement of their own national language.’52 The Court of Directors supported Hasting’s ‘rational view’ in establishing the Sanskrit College and appreciated his ‘zeal for the progress and improvement of education and willingness to make considerable sacrifices to that important end.’53 Governor-generals Bentinck and Trevelyan were instrumental in introducing English as an optional subject in 1827. This was severely opposed by Wilson and Prinsep. The college in 1834 contained 181 students, 97 of whom received a monthly stipend of 5 to 8 rupees from government. Of these 181 students, 83 studied English, but it was abolished in 1835.54 Ishwarchandra Vidyasagar, who was a seventh-year student, submitted, along with other students, a memorial to the government for its restoration; consequently, the English classes were restored in 1842.55

Note by Holt Mackenzie – 1823 The government’s insistence on giving education only in Arabic and Sanskrit was opposed by the people of Calcutta. The opposition was not limited to English educated reformers like Rammohan Roy; it included the most orthodox Hindus and a Sanskrit scholar, Radhakant Deb, as well as other Hindus and Muslims, such as Wamanundun Tagore, Tarinee Chuorn Mitra, Ram Komul Sen, Hyder Ulee, Mohamad Rasheed, Mohammad Sueed, Ubdool Humeed, and Curreem Hossyn. They argued that the British education policy was motivated by the desire ‘to keep the people weak and ignorant so that they will be submissive.’ Holt Mackenzie, secretary to the Bengal government, rejected it by arguing that ‘caution indeed must be used in admitting the light to the morbid sense.’56 Mackenzie drew the attention from what he called the ‘means,’ that is, Arabic and Sanskrit or English as the medium of instruction, to the ‘end,’ that is, the outcome of the education. He stated that In England it is through parish schools that education is imparted and the advantages of general education depend greatly on the religion of the country. Take from the peasant his Bible, and the 80

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knowledge and sentiments that have flowed from that sacred source, and how worthless will be his lowly literature.57 Since India did not have ‘such instrument with which to work, beneficial for the lower orders,’ it was necessary to have ‘Sanskrit colleges and Madrasas for Hindu and Muslim literature.’58 Mackenzie did not take into consideration the numerous indigenous vernacular schools across Bengal for government support. He argued that ‘the great body of the people are too poor and we surely cannot expect the servant to prize a learning, which his master despises or hates.’ Mackenzie insisted on educating ‘the limited classes who are now instructed.’ He recommended the necessity of ‘appointing a General Committee of Public Instruction, (GCPI) who may prepare some well digested scheme, embracing all the different institutions supported, or encouraged by Government.’59 Mackenzie was aware of the fact that even among the senior officials few of them possessed liberal ideas. To effectively control such tendencies, it was suggested that H.H. Wilson was to be made a secretary of the GCPI.60 What Mackenzie eloquently argued had already been emphasised by Minto in 1811; namely, religion should form the basis of education for ‘improving the morals of the natives of India,’ which could be done through the agency of the priestly class. Since the natives, particularly the Hindus, did not have institutionalised religious teaching, the government ought to intervene. It is also interesting to note that while giving the example of education in England, Mackenzie chose parish schools, which were meant to inculcate among the poor an acceptance of their miserable existence and obedience to the rich upper class,61 and not the grammar schools which allowed students to seek higher education and thereby brought them closer to power and wealth.

The appointment of GCPI, 1823 (the General Committee of Public Instruction) As suggested by Holt Mackenzie, within 14 days the government constituted the General Committee of Public Instruction (GCPI) for ‘the improvement of moral character of the natives.’62 The GCPI consisted of ten members, and the government handed over 100,000 rupees per year with arrears payable from 1 May 1821.63 This meant that the amount earmarked by the Charter Act of 1813 was lost for the period 1813–1820. This amounted to 800,000 rupees plus the interest accrued on it. The government also suspended grants amounting to 16,800 rupees given to the schools in Chinsura, Ajmer, and Bhagalpur; these were placed under the GCPI.64 The GCPI controlled the Madrassas and the Sanskrit colleges through sub-committees or individual members. The order of the president and majority of the members could determine the course of the educational policies.65 Out of ten 81

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members, seven of them – J.H. Harington, J.P. Larkins, W.B. Martin, W.B. Bayley, H.T. Prinsep, H. Shakespeare, and A. Sterling – were Arabic experts who also had some knowledge of Persian while Holt Mackenzie was proficient in Bengali, and J.C.C. Sutherland and Horace Hayman Wilson were Sanskrit experts. The supporters of Arabic outnumbered the supporters of Sanskrit. H.H. Wilson, though a junior member, was made a secretary of the GCPI as he ‘had a powerful personality and political skill’ to misrepresent facts. When he spoke of his education policy, he meant education for only the ‘learned natives,’ a tiny band of prospective Brahman pundits and upperclass Muslims. To him education for Indians consisted of Sanskrit or Arabic language and literature taught in the traditional manner. But he could simultaneously proclaim his support for ‘useful knowledge’ by classifying as ‘useful’ ancient Hindu legends and mythology (the Puranas). He could camouflage the extremism of his single-minded advocacy of limiting education to Brahmins and Ashraf Muslims by ambiguous statements which appeared to support education in the vernacular. In reality, Wilson opposed teaching any Indian vernacular in schools. Wilson omitted important parts of the Bentinck Resolution of 1835 and represented it as anti-Sanskrit. Most of the anti-Macaulay historical narratives derive their arguments from this narrative of Wilson.66 The GCPI controlled by the Orientalists argued that a ‘union of European and Hindu learning’ could be brought about by introducing modern sciences in the Sanskrit college to ‘the men of Brahmanical birth’ who would ‘exercise a powerful influence on the minds of every order of the community.’67 The GCPI’s suggestion to privilege Brahmins over others did not amuse Indian reformers like Rammohan Roy and Dwarkanath Tagore, who were Brahmins themselves. Rammohan Roy gave a strong rebuttal to the GCPI in an open letter to governor-general Amherst. Roy told him that, when the Charter Act was passed in 1813, We were filled with sanguine hopes that this sum would be laid out . . . to instruct the natives of India in Mathematics, Natural Philosophy, Chemistry, Anatomy and other useful Sciences . . . we looked forward with pleasing hope to the dawn of knowledge.68 Rammohan Roy explained that Sanskrit was ‘a difficult language which required almost a lifetime for its perfect acquisition.’ He also compared pre-modern knowledge in India to pre-Baconian knowledge in England and explained that regeneration and progress of the society could not be achieved without the help of English language and modern sciences.69 Roy argued that, ‘if it had been intended to keep the British nation in ignorance of real knowledge, the Baconian philosophy would not have been allowed to displace the previous system,’ similarly ‘if it is not the object of the British 82

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to keep India in ignorance then it will consequently promote a more liberal and enlightened system of instruction, embracing mathematics, natural philosophy, chemistry and anatomy, with other useful sciences.’ He requested the government to ‘provide a college furnished with the necessary books, instruments and other apparatus.’70 Roy stated that by writing this letter he was ‘discharging a solemn duty which I owe to my countrymen.’ When Rammohan Roy’s letter was placed before J.H. Harrington, president of the GCPI, he wrote, ‘It is entitled to no reply . . . as (it had) the signature of one individual alone.’71 Unlike other Indian petitions, they could not ignore this for long. A large number of British liberals, including T.B. Macaulay, were admirers and supporters of Rammohan Roy. The letter was placed before the Court of Directors in London. Roy’s letter was rejected by the Court of Directors by stating that it was ‘an opinion adverse to the supposed object of the government.’ They wrote a despatch to governor-general Amherst in which they called the ‘teaching sciences contained in Oriental books’ as ‘worse than a waste of time’ and suggested the introduction of ‘useful learning.’ They also appreciated the government of India for holding ‘a rational view of consulting the Hindu and Muslim prejudices.’72 The government of India forwarded the letter to the GCPI. Wilson stated that ‘useful learning in the letter of the Court of Directors is no doubt implied as oriental learning.’ In order to quell any demand for the introduction of English language and modern sciences, Wilson decided to bring all educational institutions firmly under the control of Europeans. He declared that ‘education is calculated to form a really good Arabic and Sanskrit scholar’ because The Maulvis and Pundits are satisfied with their own learning, are little inquisitive as to anything beyond it . . . any attempt to enforce would create dissatisfaction. The actual state of public feeling is therefore, we conceive still an impediment to any general introduction of western literature or science. . . . The prejudices of the natives against European interference with their education in any shape are considerably abated. . . . We must for the present go with the tide of popular prejudice.73 This was a clear misrepresentation of facts. The ‘tide of popular prejudice’ was in favour of the introduction of modern education and not opposed to it as projected by the GCPI. In the same letter, Wilson admitted that ‘independent schools conducted by young men reared in Vidyalaya are springing up in every direction.’ When Hooghly College was established, within three days 1,200 boys enrolled, and the college functioned with a regular attendance of 1,000. The Arabic and Persian section of the same college could not get more than 200 boys.74 Indians were demanding the establishment of modern schools across India. Still, the GCPI went ahead and sanctioned a Madrasa for the children of the Nizamat family at Murshidabad. The 83

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cost of the building was 60,000 rupees, and the annual cost of maintenance was 16,536 rupees.75 The Court of Directors asked the governor-general to encourage the ‘training up of teachers in the indigenous schools’ as ‘it is upon the character of the indigenous schools that the education of the great mass of population must ultimately depend.’76

The Agra College, 1824 In Agra, Gangadhar Pandit, a Sanskrit scholar, taught the Vedas for a long time. In 1796, the Maratha ruler Madhav Rao Sindia gave jagir (rent-free lands) in Agra, Aligarh, and Mathura, yielding an annual rent of 16,000 rupees, to support the cause. Pandit died in 1813, and none of his sons were proficient enough in Sanskrit to continue the school. They quarrelled among themselves for the division of the property. The government took over the lands and established Agra College in 1824. By this time the amount had accumulated to 185,000 rupees. The land grant was for the purpose of promoting sacred knowledge of the Hindus (udakapunyartha). Wilson ignored the original grant and used it for establishing a college to teach Arabic, Persian, Sanskrit, and Hindi.77 The people of Agra asked the government to introduce English, but the government opposed it during 1825–1829. The Court of Directors, too, opposed it by stating, We think that at present English instruction at Agra is of secondary importance. . . . Any attempt of this nature, we are certain, end in the communication of a little broken English to a few individuals, sufficient to fit them for copyists in the public offices.78 However, the public pressure forced them to open English classes the next year, and the number of students went up considerably.79 Still, in 1835, GCPI member Sutherland opposed the teaching of English at Agra College as there were ‘very few students from Rajput and other respectable castes.’80

William Fraser’s Schools at Delhi William Fraser was an official posted in Delhi. He had come to India from Inverness, Scotland, at an early age and became a Persian scholar. He had deep sympathies for Indians. He dressed mostly like Indians, did not eat beef or pork, and had an Indian wife.81 During 1816–1823, he established four schools from his personal funds. These schools taught English, Persian, and Hindi and cost him 200 rupees a month, which appropriated a major portion of his salary. Each school had a teacher and 20–25 boys. Fraser stressed that, even if he was ‘successful in educating one boy in every 20 families, the

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boys thus educated would educate the rest of the population.’82 His appeal to the government for a grant was turned down by GCPI, which stated, It is expedient that the appropriation of any limited funds assigned for the purpose of public education should be chiefly directed to the best means of improving the education of the more respectable members of Indian society.83 The GCPI argued that it lacked funds and refused to give 2,400 rupees per year to Fraser’s schools. Fraser could not run these schools for long, and they were soon closed down. The Court of Directors called it ‘a proper decision.’84 The GCPI’s argument that it lacked funds is difficult to substantiate. In 1825 it had 287,250 rupees, while it spent 41,200 on all educational establishments.85 This does not include expenditures on Calcutta Madrassa, Banaras Sanskrit College, and Agra College, which had their own incomes. However, it appears that the GCPI portrayed an image that it lacked funds to support modern education. Around this time, Indians began to handover large sums of money to the GCPI, asking it to utilise it for opening modern schools. Kalisunkar Ghosal gave 20,000 rupees; Harrinath Raee, 22,000; and Badyanath Raee, 50,000 rupees to the GCPI during 1824–25. Gooroo Prasad Bose donated 10,000 rupees, while Shib Chunder Raee and Nursing Choudree together made a donation of 46,000 rupees to the GCPI.86 The GCPI promised to utilise the funds for encouraging modern education, particularly to institute scholarships and prizes. But it did not do so. In 1826, the only modern education institution it supported was the Vidyalaya, to which it gave 118 rupees and 8 annas as scholarship, while for Sanskrit College and Madrassa, it was 350 and 1,160 rupees, respectively.87

The Delhi College, 1825 Instead of supporting the efforts of Fraser, the government decided to spend money on a Madrasa in Delhi which had been established by Mir Shihabud Din, an Uzbek army commander in Aurangzeb’s army, in 1692.88 When the British took over Delhi in 1803, they modified the building and continued the institution. In 1824, this institution had only nine students and one teacher, whose salary of 33 rupees was paid by Nawab Amir Khan. In 1825 the Madrassa was restarted under its new name – the Delhi College – in the same building. Two more teachers were appointed, and 49 students were given stipends to study Islamic literature. In 1827, the Court of Directors asked the government to ‘adopt as a guiding principle that useful knowledge is to be the chief end of the establishment.’89 In 1829 Nawab Etimad ud Daula, the prime minister of the king of Awadh, donated 170,000 rupees,

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which gave an income of 700 rupees a month to the college.90 The Orientalists repeatedly told Delhi College not to admit students from ‘miserable background.’ Unable to comply with the demands of the Orientalists, the exasperated Principal J. H. Taylor reported that those who have ‘first rate talent are actually destitute’ and ‘unenlightened rich scorn the drudgery of scholastic discipline.’91 In 1829, Charles Trevelyan introduced English. In 1830, the Delhi College had a total of 199 boys. Of them, 32 studied Arabic; 126, Persian; 13, Sanskrit; and 28, English. The introduction of English did not change the class composition of Delhi College. In 1838, governor-general Auckland regretted that Delhi College ‘has not trounced up any distinguished scholars’; at the same time, he admitted that the English department ‘has supplied several promising young men to the public service.’92 Tailor reported in 1855 that ‘the Muhammadan gentry, i.e., the Nawabs and the Sultans of Delhi, regard the government schools and colleges as elementary institutions, and on that ground are deterred from sending their children thither, preferring to employ private teachers.’93 In that year, the college had 372 students, of which 254 studied English.94

The Sagar School The school at Sagar is interesting because it was in a place far away from Presidencies and a large British presence. It was established sometime in the 1820s by Krishna Rao, a Deshastha Brahmin, who came from ‘a very poor family.’ Rao, along with his father, Nana Desai, wanted to establish an English school in Sagar; he received support from Captain James Paton. Rao’s two brothers, Vishnoo Rao and Ramachandra Rao, assisted him in teaching. All of them worked in the school without taking any salary.95 Krishna Rao and his brothers had learnt English from the local British officials. In 1836, Krishna Rao wrote to M. Smith, the assistant commissioner, that ‘for learning English I used to go to you, Mr Tucker and sometimes to Captain Murray who were good enough to explain to me what I did not understand.’ In the same letter, Krishna Rao expressed that his limited knowledge of English was insufficient to teach higher classes and asked for an English teacher for his school.96 The first reference in the official records appear in 1828, when Krishna Rao submitted a long list of books – 485 copies of 34 titles covering, for example, astronomy, geography, English, Sanskrit, Hindi, and Persian – and asked the GCPI to supply the same. The most interesting item was 30 copies of ‘Female education.’97 H.H. Wilson, the secretary to GCPI, did not supply the books and instead ordered an enquiry and asked Smith to submit a report. Smith reported that the school had a total of 392 boys and comprised of 2 Persian classes with 61 and 7 Hindi classes with 331 boys respectively. Krishna Rao is an excellent Persian and Hindi scholar . . . a wonderful absence of prejudice and bigotry. He is acquainted with English language 86

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and manners and has knowledge of elementary science and a good draughtsman. He is self-taught. The school holds a public exam every quarter, and many of the pupils show remarkable quickness of intellect far surpassing that of most English boys at the same age.98 This school had three branch schools, but no further information is available on these branch schools. In the meantime, Krishna Rao travelled to Calcutta to purchase books for his school. He met governor-general William Bentinck, who ‘welcomed him with such a warm reception’ and immediately granted him 1,200 rupees for the purchase of books and a Jageer yielding 600 rupees per year to run the school. In 1835, the school had nine different classes, with one Marathi and six Hindi teachers, and the teachers were paid 20 rupees per month. It had 536 boys, whose parents were poor and unable to contribute anything. The government fixed Krishna Rao’s salary at 100 rupees per year, to be collected from the zamindars.99 With the departure of Bentinck, the government stopped the salaries of Krishna Rao and of another master, Guru Charan Mitra, for lack of funds. When Macaulay came to know this, he was furious, and after a clash with the GCPI he made it into a government institution. He insisted on paying not only the salaries to teachers on time but also arrears as ‘the arrears is a debt and cannot be withheld.’ Macaulay ordered the release of the salary and arrears from general fund.100

Other schools under GCPI Besides the colleges at Calcutta, Delhi, and Agra, the GCPI also supported a few schools in North India. A school in Bhagalpur was established in 1823 to teach Hindustani to the boys of the Corps of Hill Rangers.101 The Bishop of Calcutta spoke very highly of the school in 1824.102 However, in 1830 it had 77 boys and ‘69 quitted during the year.’ The school taught Hindi, a little arithmetic, Stewart’s Historical Anecdotes and Tales, and Rajniti. A school in Allahabad was established in 1826 by private subscription for the instruction of native children in Persian and Hindustani. This school used Persian texts, such as Pand Nameh, Gulistan, Bahar Danish, Khird Ufroz, Punj Roka, Abul Fuzl, and Akhlaki Muhasanin, and Hindi texts, such as Niti Katha, Betal Puchisi, and Rajniti. At Jaunpur, the GCPI gave 1,000 rupees to a school established by Indian and European subscription to teach Persian, Hindustani, and Hindi.103

Educational developments, 1827–1834 By 1827, a public debate began in England regarding the renewal of the Charter of the EIC, which was due in 1833. For the first time in British politics, liberals gained the upper hand and pushed ahead reforms for Britain and India which had far-reaching consequences for both. Added to this, 87

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there was a campaign to end the monopoly of the EIC regarding trade in India. The despatches from the Court of Directors indicate the necessity to accommodate liberal opinion, at the same time asserting its educational policies to be correct. On the one hand, they admitted that ‘the prejudice of the natives, on the subject of education, do not appear to be strong,’ while on the other hand, they endorsed ‘the zeal displayed by the GCPI, and the judicious views that they take of what is useful, and what is not useful, of what is expedient now to undertake.’ However, it also suggested that the government should furnish a lecture room so that the students of Vidyalaya could be accommodated with the students of the Hindu (Sanskrit) College.104 The next letter supported the government grant of 400 rupees per month to Cawnpore Free School by stating that ‘nothing more gratifying to learn that English, Hindoo and Mussalman learn their respective languages together and their association is mutually advantageous.105 Though the orientalist members of the GCPI repeatedly insisted ‘the natives would at best be smatterers of English,’ its report of 1831 admitted that the students of the Vidyalaya ‘have surpassed expectation.’ Prinsep and Wilson, who virtually ruled the GCPI, aggressively opposed government funding to the Vidyalaya. In 1832, W.W. Bird, one of the GCPI members, suggested the establishment of ‘modern schools and colleges at some of the principal stations in the interior for the education of the higher class of the native community.’ Wilson and Prinsep not only rejected it on the grounds of ‘want of funds’ but argued that ‘a Pundit is sure to find assistance and support from the opulent Hindus, while those educated in English would not.’106 As long as Wilson dominated the GCPI, the Orientalists were never compelled to argue their difficult case. Wilson could nod in agreement to the Court of Directors’ repeated instructions to ‘modernise the curriculum while continuing to administer the colleges in the Orientalist fashion.’107 After Wilson left to become a Professor of Sanskrit at Oxford,108 H. T. Prinsep continued his grip over the GCPI. No amount of appeal and protest by Indians or Bentinck’s support for modern education could achieve any result as long as the Orientalists controlled the GCPI. The Orientalists’ policy of limiting education to Brahmins and Ashraf Muslims as seen in the Sanskrit colleges and Madrasas was expanded to include a few upper castes through Agra and Delhi Colleges and schools at Bhagalpur and Allahabad. Still, the curriculum more or less remained oriental. The GCPI made it clear that it would ‘encourage the acquirement of native literature by the influential classes.’109 It also insisted that modern subjects like geometry, algebra, and other mathematical works and sciences should be taught in India only through Arabic. To further such teaching, it began the translations of books from English to Arabic in 1824.110 When Bentinck introduced English at Calcutta Madrasa in 1828, H.T. Prinsep called it ‘hasty and indiscreet’ and insisted on removing English as the Madrasa did not have pupils from respectable background, so teaching 88

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English was useless.111 He also argued that students at Madrasa were not children but adults who could not be taught a new language and that the introduction of English was opposed to the original endowment made by Warren Hastings.112 Prinsep argued that English should be taught only ‘to a gentleman of independent fortune, and Muslim lower classes for instance (are) distracted by learning English grammar.’ He must have realised the ridiculousness of his own argument. He quickly ended the note as follows – ‘But I am running into a treatise and must break off.’113 Colvin opposed Prinsep’s insistence on stopping the teaching of English at Madrasa.114 W.W. Bird, a member of GCPI, in a strongly worded Minute, pointedly asked, The resolution on introducing English is not illegal . . . did we come to India for the purpose of encouraging the Islamic learning? Has the encouragement already given proved in the slightest degree of any practical use even to the Muslims? As to candidates for admission to the Madrasa being too old to commence the study of the English language, are the English who come out to India beyond that age too old to commence the study of Arabic? We know that they are not, and there are no grounds for supporting that with due encouragement for former any more than the latter would find the difficulties to be insurmountable.115 Bird’s Education Minute was ignored and the GCPI members continued to oppose the introduction of modern education.

Alexander Duff and the Scottish missionaries The English Baptist missionaries were from poor background and self educated as the education system in England did not allow them to have access to high schools and universities, which were the privileges of the Anglicans alone.116 As a result, they neither encouraged English as a medium of instruction nor introduced modern sciences in their schools. In most of the early missionary schools in British India, only a few advanced students were taught simple English. The Scottish missionaries differed from the English missionaries and played a catalytic role in this field. They were better educated as they had access to university education in Scotland. As a result, Scottish missionaries taught English and the entire gamut of modern subjects from the very beginning. They were also instrumental in introducing radical European Enlightenment ideas into classrooms. As a result the Scottish missionaries received more enthusiastic support from Indians than the English missionaries. The Scottish Presbyterian missionary Alexander Duff (1806–1878) came to India in 1830. He proposed to establish a school in Calcutta which would teach English and modern sciences. A local affluent Hindu, Kamal Bose, offered a house, and the school began with five 89

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students but rose to 200 four days later. Although Duff taught the Bible and was known for his open proselytising stand, the size of the school further expanded to 500 boys by 1835. Duff had to shift to a spacious building, and it was again a Hindu, Gorachand Bysack, who offered his house. Next year the school turned into a missionary college with its own building, known as the General Assembly Institution.117 Besides English and the modern curriculum, it offered Sanskrit, Bengali, and Urdu.118 Duff had a positive impact on the students. He made them think and reflect on social evils. By 1833, his students were writing essays ‘on the best means of educating Hindoo females.’ The committee established by the government to enquire into the state of medical education interviewed the students in senior classes of Duff’s college in 1834. They were surprised to find that upper-caste students, including Brahmins, were ready to disregard the traditional ban on dissecting the human body. On the basis of these interviews, the committee recommended the establishment of Calcutta Medical College.119 Duff’s achievements were appreciated by many. Roy Kalinath and Bykoonthanath Choudhury – both descendants of Raja Pratapaditya, the medieval Hindu king of Jessore in Bengal, wanted to establish a similar school in their village, Taki. Their youngest brother was a student of Duff’s school in Calcutta. The Choudhury brothers were so impressed by their younger brother’s learning that they asked Radha Prasad Roy, the son of Rammohan Roy, to bring Duff to their home. They established a school near their village and handed it over to Duff in 1832.120 Within three days, 340 boys joined. In the next year, the school faced devastation because of an attack of fever which greatly reduced its strength, but when William Adam visited the school in 1836, the boys spoke ‘English with a precision and purity very uncommon among the native youth.’121 Minto’s Education Minute of 1811 brought in the racist concept of a ­‘civilising mission’ into the educational debate. Here Indians were to be civilised not through modern education but through ‘dread of punishment described in their own religion’ through the agency of priests. This was essential because Indians were incapable of understanding modern subjects and would at best be a ‘promiscuous crowd of English smatterers.’ Though the Charter Act of 1813 earmarked 100,000 rupees for the education of British India, the Orientalists and British officers showed only half of the sum in records and did not use even this reduced sum for educational purposes. The colonial state openly promoted the education of Brahmins and Ashraf Muslims in North India and Bengal. It was Rammohan Roy and his supporters and Scottish missionary Alexander Duff who introduced modern education in Bengal.

Notes 1 Appendix to the Report 1832, Minute by Minto 6 March 1811, 325–326. 2 Hawes, Poor Relations, 10. 3 Appendix to the Report 1832, 476.

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4 Thiessen, ‘Anglo-Indian Vested Interests and Civil Service Education, 1800– 1858, 41–42. 5 Madras Public Consultations, 21 December 1934, No. 48. 6 Blackburn, Print, Folklore and Nationalism, 85–95. Later Subbaraya Mutaliar published the grammar with his own funds and sent a copy to the EIC head office in London for which he received a gold snuff box as a gift, yet the government refused to print or promote his book as late as 1834. Also see Trautmann, Languages and Nations. 7 Parliamentary Papers, Sixth Report from the Select Committee on Indian Territories, 1852–53, Vol. 29, 3. 8 Parliamentary Papers, 1852–53, vol. 32, 269. 9 Board Collections, No. 19265, H.H. Wilson, to Holt Mackenzie, Secretary to the government, 17 July 1821. 10 Parliamentary Papers, 1812, vol. 10, 171, Minute by Colebrooke 20 January 1808. 11 Kopf, British Orientalism, 175. 12 Minute by Auckland, 24 November 1839, Board Collections, No. 79941, Madras Public Consultations, 21 December 1934, No. 48. 13 Appendix to the Report 1832, Minute by Minto, 6 March 1811, 325–326. 14 Ibid, Fisher’s Memoir, 205. 15 GCPIC Vol. 63, Holt Mackenzie to the Committee for Superintending the Hindu College at Tirhut 24 January 1817. 16 GCPIC Vol. 63, Letter from Hawkins, Senior Judge Patna to the Committee for Superintending the Hindu College at Tirhut 10 April 1811. 17 Appendix to the Report, 1832, 325–326. 18 Ibid, Fisher’s Memoir, 206. 19 Napoleon Bonaparte had most of Europe except Britain under his sway by 1807. To curtail the power of Britain, he introduced the Continental System through the Berlin Decrees which forbade European countries to trade with Britain. 20 Parliamentary Branch, Fourth Report from the Select Committee on the Affairs of the East India Company, 1812, Vol. 6, 3. 21 Philips, The East India Company, 155–158. 22 Ibid, 189. 23 Board Collections, No. 77693, Extract of Public letter to Bengal 6 September 1813. 24 Speeches and Writings of Surendranath Banerjea, 87. 25 Claton, Spectator, 1043. 26 Appendix to the Report, 1832, 329–331. 27 Colebrooke, Life of the Honourable Mountstuart Elphinstone, Vol. I, 4. 28 See Chapters 5 and 6. 29 Board Collections, No. 19265, Letter from the Court of Directors 28 October 1814. 30 Sharp, Educational Records, Minute by Hastings (Moira) 2 October 1815, 24–29. 31 Appendix to Report 1832, Letters to the court of Directors, 30 July 1819 and 16 March 1821 quoted in Despatch from the Court of Directors, 18 February  1824, 331. 32 Ibid, 325. 33 Laird, Missionaries and Education, 71. 34 Kopf, British Orientalism, 182. 35 Board Collections, No, 50501. 36 Mittra, A Biographical Sketch of David Hare, 14. 37 Board Collections, No. 20837, Letters from the managers and supporters of the Hindoo College 17 July 1823 to governor-general John Adam. 38 Ibid, Public letter from Bengal 31 July 1823. 39 Majumdar, First Fruits of English Education, 17.

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40 Ibid, 14. 41 Board Collections, No. 20837, Letters from the managers and supporters of the Hindoo College 17 July 1823 to the governor-general John Adam. 42 Ibid, Minute by Harrington 17 July 1823. 43 Minutes of the GCPI meeting held on 8 June 1833, GCPI Correspondence Vol. I. 44 Board Collections, No. 50501, Bentinck, to the Court of Directors, 27 August 1830. 45 McCully, English Education, 60. 46 Public Department, 82 of 1821, The Proposal for the College of Bombay, 14 November 1820, Board Collections, No. 60267, Minute by governor of Bombay, 1 March 1834. 47 Majumdar, First Fruits of English Education, 51–56. 48 Adam’s Report, 301. 49 Ibid, 66–67. 50 GCPIC, Vol. 5, The Report of the GCPI 1831. 51 Appendix to Report 1832, 212. 52 Report on the Sanskrit College, Calcutta, 31 January 1835, Sharp, Educational Records, 41. 53 Board Collections, No. 77639, Letter to government of Bengal 18 February 1824. 54 Sharp, Educational Records, 39–41. Report on the Sanskrit College, 31 January 1835. 55 Majumdar, First Fruits of English Education, 5. 56 Sharp, Educational Records, Note by Holt Mackenzie the 17 July 1823, 57. 57 Ibid. 58 Ibid, 59–60. 59 Ibid, 60–61. 60 Ibid, 55–57, Letter from A. Sterling, Acting Deputy Persian Secretary to Members, 31 July 1823. 61 First Annual Report of the National Society for Promoting the Education of the Poor in the Principles of the Established Church, London, 1812, 5–6, Williams, The Long Revolution, 136, Hobsbawm, The Age of Capital, 1848–1875, 118, Aldrich, An Introduction to the History of Education, 24. 62 Sharp, Educational Records, Letter from government 31 July 1823, 55–57. 63 Trevelyan, On the Education of the People of India, 3. 64 Appendix to Report 1832, 215. 65 Sharp, Educational Records, Government Resolution, 17 July 1823, 55. 66 Sirkin and Sirkin, ‘The Battle of Indian Education,’ 411–414. 67 Sharp, Educational Records, Letter from GCPI to the governor-general, 6 October 1823, 87. 68 Paranjape, ed., A Source Book of Modern Indian Education, Rammohan Roy to governor-general Amherst, 11 December 1823, 9–10. 69 Ibid, 12. 70 Ibid. 71 Majumdar, First Fruits of English Education, 8. 72 GCPIC, Vol. V, Court of Directors’ Revenue Department Despatch to the governor – general, 18 August 1824. 73 Ibid, GCPI to governor-general, undated. 74 Trevelyan, On the Education, 82. 75 Appendix to the Report 1832, 219–220. 76 Ibid, Court of Directors to the Government of India, 9 March 1825, 332–333. 77 Board Collections No. 77634, Sutherland to James Prinsep 21 January 1835. 78 GCPIC, Vol. 6, Educational Despatch from the Court of Directors, 21 August 1829.

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79 Board Collections, No. 77634, R. Barclay Duncan, Secretary and Superintendant of Agra College to Sutherland 24 July 1834. 80 Ibid, Sutherland to James Prinsep, 21 January 1835. 81 William Dalrymple, ‘Transculturation, Assimilation, and Its Limits,’ Pernau, The Delhi College, 67. 82 GCPIC, Vol. 1, W. Fraser to W.B. Bayley, 25 September 1823, and GCPI’s reply 29 November 1823. 83 Ibid, GCPI to Fraser, 29 November 1823. 84 Ibid, Court of Directors to the governor-general, 5 September 1827. 85 Ibid, Wilson to GCPI, 18 July 1825. 86 GCPI Correspondence, Vol. I, GCPI to the governor-general, 1 June 1825. 87 Ibid, Accounts department to Wilson, 23 September 1826. 88 Koch, ‘The Madrasa of Ghaziuddin Khan at Delhi,’ 36–38. 89 Appendix to Report, 1832, Court of Directors to the governor-general, 5 September 1827, 333. 90 Ibid, 347. 91 Quoted in ‘The Note on Education’ by Colvin, Board Collections, No. 77637. 92 Board Collections, No. 81607, Minute by Auckland 7 March 1838, ‘On Delhi College.’ 93 Returns to the House of Commons 1859, 209. 94 Ibid, 408. 95 Report on the Colleges and Schools for Native Education in Bengal 1831, 25. 96 GCPIC, Vol. 21, Rao Krishna Rao to M. Smith, 6 May 1836. 97 Board Collections, No. 50501, The list of books consisted of Arithmetic 6, Astronomy, Geography 8, Bele’s Instruction 10, Baital Pucheesee 5, Bostan with Commentary1, Copernicus Geography 4, Lithograph 1, Persian Tables 6, Euclid Persian 2, Nagari (Hindi) Table 50, Nagari Geography 6, Gulistan 5, Nagari Grammar 6, Historical Anecdotes 10, Lilavati 4, one copy of Persian, Nagari, Hindustani Maps, Nagari Spelling 200, Sanskrit Reader 40 copies. 98 Board Collections, No. 50501, Quoted by Bentinck to the Court of Directors, 27 August 1830. 99 Board Collections, No. 64997, Rao Krishna Rao to the government, 10 January 1835. 100 Woodrow, Macaulay’s Minutes on Education, 30 January 1836, and 8 March 1836, 56. 101 Report on the Colleges and Schools for Native Education in Bengal 1831, 21. 102 Appendix to Report, 1832, 219. 103 Report on the Colleges and Schools for Native Education in Bengal, 1831, 21–25. 104 Appendix to the Report, 1832, Court of Directors to governor-general 5 September 1827, 333–338. 105 Ibid, Court of Directors to governor-general, 24 October 1827, 338. 106 Note by Wilson 13 February 1832, Letter from GCPI to Metcalf 21 May 1832, Bengal Proceedings, 3 July 1832–11, September 1832. 107 Sirkin and Sirkin, ‘The Battle of Indian Education,’ 418–419. 108 Ibid, Wilson got this job after he gave paid advertisement of his achievements in leading newspapers ‘as a Sanskrit scholar, translator and composer of the Sanskrit Dictionary.’ Wilson made use of the services of Indian Sanskrit scholars for translations and did not pay them. For instance, Jagohdara Pundit helped Wilson to translate until his departure to England and did not get any remunaration. Pundit took the help of Maulvi Soloman of Sasaram Madrasa to approach the GCPI. Petition dated 2 January 1835, GCPIC vol. 4. 109 Report on the Colleges and Schools for Native Education, 1831, 44.

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110 The Calcutta Review, No. VI, Vol. III, 1846, 214. 111 Board Collections, No. 77633, Minute by Prensep, 15 August 1834. 112 Ibid, Minute by Prensep, 30 September 1834. 113 Ibid. 114 Ibid, Minute by Colvin, 21 October 1834. 115 Board Collections, No. 77634, Minute by Bird, 30 July 1834. 116 Aldrich, The History of Education, 24. 117 Emmott, ‘Alexander Duff and the Foundation of Modern Education in India,’ 160–169. 118 Day, Recollections of Alexander Duff, 118–130. 119 GCPIC, Vol. 39, Report of the Committee on the State of Medical Education. 120 Laird, Missionaries and Education, 217. 121 Adam’s Report, 74.

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5 BRAHMINISATION OF EDUCATION Bombay Presidency, 1820–1839

The question is not whether we are to encourage Brahmin learning or European learning, but whether we are to encourage Brahmin learning or none at all. – Mountstuart Elphinstone, 18241

Elphinstone–Francis Warden debates, 1820–27 The seven islands which came to form the city of Bombay were under Portuguese control in the seventeenth century. When Charles II of England married the Portuguese princess Catherine of Braganza, he got these islands as a part of the dowry, which he then leased to the EIC. When the British defeated the Peshwa in 1818, they created a presidency and made ­Bombay its capital. The British encouragement of Sanskrit and Arabic education and the subsequent policies were unopposed within the governor-general’s council, dominated by the Orientalists. However, in the Bombay Presidency, a few spirited, liberal British officers contested the state policy and strongly supported the introduction of modern education to all sections of the population. Francis Warden led the earliest effort by a government official to establish a modern educational institution. He was a civil servant of Bombay city, not a part of the conquering team of British officials headed by Elphinstone. Warden was born in Bombay in 1774 and studied along with native boys in a charity school. He became a civil servant of the Bombay administration in 1795 and went on to become the chief secretary to the Bombay ­government in 1805. In 1816, Warden began the process of establishing a college similar to the College of Fort William in Calcutta. However, when Vidyalaya was established, he changed his plans. As an admirer of Rammohan Roy, W ­ arden ‘looked to the Hindu College for the model to be emulated.’ He procured the document prepared by the Vidyalaya Committee, and prepared a s­ imilar model with minor changes mostly concerning holidays. The proposed ­college was to teach Arabic, Persian, Sanskrit, Marathi, Gujarati, English, and modern sciences and was called ‘Model College.’ This college would 95

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have both Europeans and Indians as professors and work as ‘an institution of higher learning for a growing number of European, Eurasian and natives who were acquiring modern education through charity schools of Bombay and Surat, and through gratuitous efforts elsewhere.’2 This clearly shows that Warden proposed an inclusive institution. The Third Anglo-Maratha War in 1818 prevented its execution. After the war ended, large territories conquered from the Marathas were added to Bombay, and a Presidency was created. Mountstuart Elphinstone, a scion of the Scottish aristocracy, was made the first governor of the Bombay Presidency. Elphinstone rejected Warden’s proposal and decided to establish Sanskrit College in Poona. Warden in turn opposed it as it was ‘too narrow and benefitted only Brahmins,’ while his college would benefit ‘every section of the society.’ Elphinstone argued that the ‘Poona Sanskrit College would be received with utmost gratitude and satisfaction,’ while a modern education institution which ‘admitted the natives of all castes would be opposed by them.’3 Elphinstone refused to introduce modern education and emphasised that ‘once the Poona College has become an established place for Brahmins; it would be easy to make improvements into the system of education.’4 Kotani has shown how Elphinstone preserved and strengthened the caste panchayats. In 1822, he formulated the policy of ‘caste autonomy’ and drew up the ‘rules that all disputes related to religion, marriage and property are exclusively settled by panchayats composed of castes concerned.’5 Elphinstone openly and actively supported the caste system. Elphinstone did not allot funds for the proposed Sanskrit college; instead, he used ‘Dakshina’ funds of the previous government. The pre-colonial Peshwa rulers used to reward learned Brahmins through the Dakshina funds. The original Dakshina fund consisted of 500,000 rupees. Elphinstone called it ‘too enormous a waste,’ reduced it to 50,000 rupees, and used it for the establishment of Sanskrit College at Poona. The college was opened on 7 October 1821, with 70 scholarships for the study of the Dharmashastras and 30 for students of the Vedas. The annual cost was 15,250 rupees.6 Even after this arbitrary reduction of funds, 34,750 rupees per year were available for other educational purposes. There were many proposals before the government. Besides the Panwal petition, there were others from Thane, Bassein, and Vashi. Seville Marriott, the collector of North Konkan, supported these petitions.7 Elphinstone formally approved Marriott’s proposal but wrote to his council members that ‘I am afraid there is little chance of success’ and expressed doubt whether anyone could be ‘expected to study our language.’8 Marriott was unaware of this; he prepared a budget of 290 rupees a month for each school and sent it to the chief secretary. He fixed a salary of 100 rupees for a teacher of surveying and drawing, 60 rupees for an English teacher, 50 for a Marathi teacher, and 30 rupees for an assistant teacher.9 Marriot also suggested that the government should establish 15 vernacular and two English schools 96

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in each district.10 The collector Surat, W. Stubbs too supported the petitions of the people; procured three houses on rent at 12 rupees a month; and sought funds for writing boards, chairs, and tables for the masters and mats for the children to sit on. Instead of assisting Stubbs, Elphinstone told him to ‘appropriate the Dutch Bunder (harbour) for the education of the natives.’11 This Dutch Bunder was far from the town, and the possibility of parents sending their 6 and 7 year-old children was a difficult proposition. Together these proposals would have cost the government 15,000 rupees a year. Though the government had funds, Elphinstone refused to support these schools. In 1823, Noormuhammad Ibrahim Parkar and Vinayak Parshuram Divanji of Ratnagiri ‘on behalf of the natives of the district’ sent a petition to Elphinstone to establish four or five English schools in the district.12 Parkar, along with Winoba Ragoonath, voluntarily came forward to build a school building to house 200 children at Ratnagiri. The Hindus, Muslims, and local British officials made financial contributions in the forms of donation and yearly subscriptions. Parkar made the highest contribution in both categories. This school began with two teachers, 19 boys, and one girl. This was probably the first modern school to admit a girl. It is not clear when Parkar’s English School was closed down – in 1836 the collector reported that ‘there are no English but six Marathi schools in the district.’ The list of subscribers for these Marathi schools does not contain the names of Parkar and Ragoonath. The list also proves the government’s inability to mobilise funds. In 1823, for one English school, people paid an annual subscription of 791 rupees and a donation of 850 rupees, while in 1836, for all the six Marathi schools, the government could raise only 519 rupees as a subscription and no donation.13 The earlier petition of Panwelkar from Panvel, and now Parkar’s petition, showed the government that Muslims like Hindus were eagerly embracing modern education. The officials did not like it. T.B. Jervis regretted that there was ‘absolute disuse of Arabic and Persian, among Muslims’ and suggested their revival.14 His brother George Jervis ordered 50 copies of Arabic tables, 50 copies of the world map in Persian, and 100 copies of the Persian poetry Bostan at a time when the Muslims spoke and attended Marathi, Gujarati, and Kannada indigenous schools and used Arabic for religious purposes only.15 Both the Jervis brothers, along with Elphinstone, acted as defenders of Hindu and Islamic tradition and staunch opponents of modern education. However, it was not sincere admiration for these traditions, as Elphinstone declared that ‘the morality of the natives is rather loose’ and ‘no situation of political or military power should for a long time, be entrusted to a native.’16 In 1824, Elphinstone reprimanded his nephew James Erskine, an official in Bombay Presidency, for adopting the native dress, and warned him ‘not to sink to their level.’17 This amply demonstrates Elphinstone’s low opinion of Indians and used the encouragement to Sanskrit, Arabic, 97

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and Persian as a means of preventing the spread of modern education and controlling the subject population. Elphinstone despised the poor and protected large landholders in the ­Presidency.18 In continuation of this policy, he opposed the demands for ­modern education by arguing that ‘it is large fortunes alone that can encourage ­letters.’ Large fortune, according to Elphinstone, was limited to the landed gentry and not the affluent business class, whom he dismissed as ­‘generally men of humble origin who have raised themselves by commerce; the upper classes in the interior regard them as vulgar purse-proud traders. And do not readily mix.’ Elphinstone argued that since the ­‘respectable classes’ do not send their sons to schools, the government involvement should be limited to encouraging ‘village schools to hold occasional examinations and the distribution of prizes to the most proficient pupils and teachers.’19 Elphinstone insisted that ‘pantojees and maulvis’ should be appointed as teachers.20 Francis Warden opposed Elphinstone’s elitist proposals, particularly using the Brahmins and Muslim priests as teachers. He insisted on establishing schools to teach vernaculars, English, and modern sciences with access open to all.21 Elphinstone criticised Warden for a ‘lack of consideration for the native prejudice’ and doubted ‘the existence of a sufficient demand for English teaching in the country at large.’22 On the one hand, he raised the fears that ‘the natives might associate the teaching of English with conversion,’23 and on the other hand, he told the Select Committee of the British Parliament that ‘educating the natives must be favourable to the progress of Christianity.’24 So it is clear that Elphinstone was not against conversion but used it as an excuse to stop the introduction of modern education. In 1823, Warden supported Parkar and Divanji’s petition, while Elphinstone opposed it and instead proposed to add English classes to the existing Bohra Madrassa at Surat and to the newly established Sanskrit College at Poona. Elphinstone expected the Sanskrit pundits to oppose and the Maulvis to accept the proposal. He mentioned that the jealousy of the Brahmins would repeal the approach of foreign doctrines, and the disadvantageous comparison between their own salaries and those of the new comers would increase their hostility, and would soon occasion the desertion of the college.25 Elphinstone expected not only Sanskrit scholars to oppose the introduction of English in the college but also Sanskrit College to collapse eventually. Elphinstone also stated that he was excited to appoint ‘a medical professor to teach Anatomy, Medicine and Chemistry’ to Sanskrit College.26 He was well aware of the fact that the orthodox, strictly vegetarian Brahmins of Western India would be hostile to associate sacred Vedas with the touching of dead bodies which was required for dissection as part of the medical ­curriculum. He did not pursue it further. In the meantime, he was disappointed to find 98

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that his proposal to introduce English was accepted by the Sanskrit pundits at Poona but rejected by the Maulvis at Surat, who stated that in Madrassa ‘no other study is permitted but what is contained in books of religion and any attempt to introduce any other would be considered as an improper interference and in opposition to the exercise of the religion.’27 Elphinstone was unhappy with the development as the Sanskrit College had only poor Brahmins studying with a scholarship. He set up a Special Committee comprising James Farish, William Chaplin, and others to suggest an educational policy. The Special Committee suggested that education was necessary for ‘suppressing crimes and maintenance of law and order’ but emphatically opposed the introduction of English and modern sciences. Instead, it suggested the establishment of vernacular schools.28 Based on these recommendations, Elphinstone drafted an elaborate Minute on 13 December 1823 to lay down the foundation of the education system in Bombay. He emphasised two important points: first, there was a need ‘to improve the mode of teaching in native schools, and increase their numbers,’ which ‘must be entirely left to the Native Education Society.’ He established this society to act like the education department for the entire Bombay Presidency. Second, Elphinstone accepted Chaplin’s recommendation that ‘3 to 10 rupees should be paid to the masters either from village expenses – gaum khurch or from the gross village revenue. . . . The school master should be allowed to take the usual fee from their boys besides this allowance.’ However, this was problematic in inam villages where the inam holders paid no land revenue, and Elphinstone felt that they, too, ‘should make an annual payment.’29 In the indigenous schools the parents paid fees to the teacher; now, the whole village was expected the bear the cost of maintaining the school. This also meant that the government did not intend to pay the salaries of teachers; rather, it wanted salaries to be a sum taken out of either revenue or village expenses. Elphinstone accepted the recommendation that ‘the teachers should be provided with books on improved method of teaching,’ which actually meant not the pedagogy of teaching but ‘a very concise treatise containing a few rules for the management of schools in a modern way, along with a short exposition of the advantages which would accrue both to master and the school from the adoption of these improvements.’ This was recommended by Farish. To this Elphinstone added that the schools should be provided with books on moral science in vernacular. He also mentioned that he wanted to ‘establish schools for teaching European sciences’ at an expense of 2,500 rupees per year in Bombay.30

The Native Education Society (NES), 1824 In the teeth of opposition from Warden, Elphinstone heavily relied on the Jervis brothers, George Riesto and Thomas Best Jervis, to enforce his 99

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policy. T.B. Jervis had already taken an initiative to establish South Concan School Society to train Brahmin teachers ‘to teach respectable classes’ in four ­Marathi schools in Ratnagiri district. This society, established during 1820–1821 at Ratnagiri, was the first teacher training institution in India. T.B. Jervis reported that in 1824 it had 25 students aged between 18–25 years. They were given 4 rupees per month as a stipend, and they were ‘all Brahmins of respectability.’31 It was not just about appointing Brahmin teachers to schools; they were selected and trained to further caste and imperial agendas. In 1820 all the teachers in the six indigenous schools in Ratnagiri, Chiplun, and Nandure were non-Brahmins, while in 1823 all the teachers in the government schools in these places came to be Brahmins.32 The change was sudden and drastic. His older brother, George Jervis, established the Bombay Native School Book Society in 1822 for the purpose of preparing schoolbooks. It was a body of Europeans who wanted to give direction to native education, with Elphinstone as its president. In 1824, Elphinstone ‘observed with particular pleasure the judicious means adopted to procure the co-operation of the natives by the South Concan School Society . . . and called upon it to work closely with the Bombay Native School Book Society.33 George Jervis drafted a ‘plan of union’ and merged both the societies. Thus emerged a new entity called the Native Education Society (NES).34 The ‘fundamental principle of the Society was to adhere to the rules on which education is conducted by the natives themselves.’ So the society adopted an indigenous system of education, and the government gave 12,720 rupees per year and provided a lithographic press.35 Though the NES was a society, it acted virtually the same as the education department for Elphinstone’s administration. It continued to do so until the Board of Education was established in 1840. Even here Jervis became a member and dominated the educational policy. Jervis through the NES and later through the Board of Education controlled the establishment or closing down of schools, appointment of teachers, curriculum, textbooks, purchases of books to the libraries, and student scholarships. Virtually, George Jervis was in complete charge of education in the Bombay Presidency from 1820 until his death, in 1852. Under pressure from Warden, Elphinstone asked Jervis to establish an English school in Bombay but also told him to limit admission to ‘higher orders.’ Jervis established an English school in July 1824. In spite of Elphinstone’s open appeal, no landed Brahmin or Maratha came forward to admit his son. So Jervis was forced to admit poor boys from various castes. In 1826 this school had 21 Brahmin, 24 Prabhu, four Shimpi, four Parsi, four Bania, and one Sonar boy. Jervis was unhappy as ‘all of them came from miserable background.’36 Elphinstone opposed teaching English‘especially to lower orders.’37 He also declared that ‘to prevent a mixture of ranks no boy should be admitted until he was approved by the Committee.’38 Since the school had no ‘respectable natives’ the educational standard was kept 100

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very low. The boys in the first class traced the alphabet on sand board like those in indigenous schools, not on slate like those in modern schools.39 For the higher classes, it used Marathi or Guajarati translations of Aesop’s Fables, Grand Duff’s History of Marathas, and Hutton’s arithmetic.40 Since ‘respectable classes are not sending their wards to schools’ or to the teacher training wing of the NES, Elphinstone asked Chaplin, the commissioner of Deccan, to recruit students to the teacher training wing. He also suggested that ‘higher branches of modern sciences should be taught in the Poona Sanskrit College.’41 Chaplin made the following public announcement: Brahmins and respectable Hindu castes and Muslims will be admitted to the examination . . . would be provided with servants of their own caste to cook for and wait upon them and all the other arrangements which the purity of the Brahmins and the usages of the other respectable castes require will be strictly attended to.42 Chaplin selected 24 Brahmin boys and sent them to Bombay. Seeing them, Elphinstone was aghast and stated that ‘miserable persons who so unexpectedly presented themselves. . . . It would have been much better if they had stayed away.’43 R. S. Goodwin, a member of the NES, thundered, ‘return them to Deccan; they are boys living from hand to mouth in Poona. Bring men from Gwaliar or Mhow as recruits. I really do not see the necessity of detaining these mendicants in Bombay.’44 We do not have records to know how these young Brahmin boys who had passed the examination felt by such treatment. In a letter Jervis mentioned that they returned to Poona, while he assured Elphinstone that ‘I could easily supply Brahmin youths.’ Later Jervis selected ‘twenty five Marathi and sixteen Gujarati Brahmins from respectable background to train them in his NES as school masters.’45 Jervis used this instance to argue that the ‘respectable natives’ were against modern education and opposed Warden.46 Jervis reported that in the NES English School, the boys had ‘made little progress’ and stressed that the ‘acquisition of English has hitherto invariably tended to render a native negligent of his own vernacular dialect.’ Hence, he suggested the desirability of educating a ‘few scholars who have leisure to continue their studies.’47 Immediately, Elphinstone agreed with the ‘conclusive arguments’ of Jervis.48 In another Minute he reproduced Jervis’s argument: The acquisition of English has hitherto invariably tended to render a native negligent of his own vernacular dialect and consequently whatever knowledge he might become acquainted with through the medium of English, there is a risk of he being unable to communicate it to his countrymen and he would thus have been of no use in extending mental and moral improvement amongst the natives.49 101

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Elphinstone opposed ‘diffusing instruction especially to lower orders.’ As the missionary schools contained children from various social backgrounds he opposed their admission in to NES’s teacher training programme.50

Brahmin schoolmasters In 1826, Elphinstone proposed for the establishment of vernacular schools in important places like Ahmadnagar, Dharwar, Dhulia, Nasik, Poona, and Satara. An examination was conducted before the principal authorities on 18 May 1826, and 14 Brahmins were selected ‘to teach natives in their own language.’51 This was done when Warden was away on a tour in the Deccan. When Warden came to know of it he protested against ‘distributing school masters at public expense.’52 Without registering the protest, Elphinstone appointed four masters each to Poona and Ahmadnagar at the salary of 6 and 11 rupees; he appointed two masters each to Dhulia and Dharwar at a salary of 15 and 22 rupees. Marriot and Warden’s proposal that Marathi teachers should be paid a salary of 30–50 rupees a month was completely ignored. Elphinstone claimed that ‘the monthly salary was fixed on the basis of distance the masters had to travel to take up the positions.’53 The Raja of Satara refused to accept the two Chitpavan Brahmin teachers appointed by Elphinstone. At that time the Raja was in the middle of a struggle with the Chitpavan caste panchayat of Poona, which had refused him the status of a Kshatriya. Elphinstone’s closeness to the leader of the Chitpavan caste panchayat, Balajipant Natu, whom he had handpicked to represent the Brahmin community of Poona, might have caused suspicion.54 Briggs, the British Resident at the court repeatedly tried to convince the Raja and the Diwan and reported that ‘the Raja hardly allowed me to finish the sentence and abruptly interrupted me by saying “the school masters could be of no use here since the people had determined not to allow their children to be instructed by them.” ’ Briggs reported that the Raja was not against education, as he had already established a school in his own palace where 15 of his relations studied and supported 43 schools across the province where 505 boys studied. Finally, these two teachers were sent to Konkan.55 Later, a majority of Brahmins from all over Deccan opposed the Chitpavan caste panchayat of Poona and recognised the Raja as a Kshatriya in 1830.56 In spite of these difficulties, Elphinstone, along with Jervis, repeated the same endeavour. He appointed ten Brahmin masters to teach in government Gujarati schools the same year. Elphinstone suggested the establishment of ‘superior sort of schools teaching English as well as the language of the country at each Collectorate station and a smaller school at district and a college for teaching native literature with European sciences.’57 However, he did not implement any of these measures. He, along with Jervis, continued to oppose the teaching of English and modern sciences, as well as the admission of poor students into the schools. The translations published by 102

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George Jervis which were meant to be textbooks did not receive any support from the native teachers. In Surat district only nine out of 234 books sold were bought by the teachers, and the rest were bought by government officials.58

Opposition to Brahminisation of educational space As Elphinstone went on strengthening the Brahmins, Warden saw modern education as a necessary device for the ‘emancipation from Brahminical control.’ In the same Minute he also suggested the ‘same salary to Native and European employees.59 It is surprising that Warden raised the issue of ‘emancipation from Brahminical control’ in 1823; Maharashtrian social reformers began to address it in the 1840s. Gopal Hari Deshmukh, a Chitpavan Brahmin popularly known as Lokhitwadi Deshmukh for his public spirited activities, and Dadobha and Atmaram Pandurang Tarkhadkar, brothers who belonged to the Vysya caste, began to attack the Brahminical control over the society from 1842 onwards through their writings in the newspapers.60 So Warden can be credited with the distinction of the first to raise the issue. Another civil servant, William Henry Sykes, in his two reports, criticised Elphinstone for selecting only Brahmins as teachers while educated men from other castes were available to teach in vernacular schools. This, he feared, would lead to a decline in the enrolment rate of non-Brahmins in the existing schools. Sykes wrote, The Shudra however, is led to believe by the wily Brahmins that letters and science are not within his province and the former is content to go on mastering his arithmetical difficulties with the assistance of his fingers; and relying upon the village clerk for keeping his accounts with the government and his ability, judgement and secrecy in the management of his private correspondence, which may be supposed will not be very important or voluminous.61 Sykes stated that the village accountants (kulkarnis) are always shrewd Brahmins who would manipulate the poor peasants. He found in his daily interaction that the Kunbis, (peasants) are far from wanting intelligence, they are not slow in observing; they are ready in communicating and the rationale of an agricultural process is frequently explained with a simplicity and effort which we might not always meet with in the educated English farmer.62 Sykes stated that the government was directly encouraging ‘absurd fables of Brahmins and unmeaning ceremonies of their worship.’63 103

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Sykes, in his second report, further stated that there were not any low caste children in the newly established government primary schools he visited in Poona and Ahmadnagar, though the children of all castes have shown ‘a decided ability . . . in their poetic powers, English composition, in a taste for drawing and mathematical acquaintances in . . . English schools of Calcutta and Bombay.’ He gave the examples of ‘a common ironsmith who had studied chemical facts, a poor outcaste who drew different species of birds, another who had learnt on his own how to repair watches.’ He further gave the example of an examination he conducted in a school in Poona in which the first standard students ‘who had been in school for less than 12 months read fluently Aesop’s Fables in Marathi and understood the compendium of the morals which is given of each fable.’ Sykes concluded his report by stating that the main ‘reason for general ignorance is absence of instructors and poverty and not lack of intelligence and talent.’64 Warden’s criticism of Elphinstone’s policies was within the Enlightenment ideas of priests as vanguards of orthodoxy and incapable of transmission of modern knowledge. However Sykes’s criticism went beyond it. By locating peasant oppression in Brahminism in general and the Kulkarnis in particular, Sykes can be considered as precursor of Jotirao Phule and the Satya Shodhak ideology of the 1870s. The Brahminisation of educational space was not a policy initiated by Elphinstone alone. It was directed by the Court of Directors as well. As soon as Western India came under British control, the Court of Directors was concerned that there was ‘a decline in the influence of higher order over lower orders’ and wanted to know ‘the measures adopted to restore the order.’65 Elphinstone explained in detail ‘the power experienced by various castes of Hindus over their members,’ and described the ‘process of excommunication.’66 Later, the Court of Directors supported the elitist policies by stating that ‘it is our anxious desire to afford to the higher classes of natives of India who are possessed of leisure and natural influence, the best means of instruction in European sciences.’67 So it is clear that Elphinstone and the Jervis brothers were not acting independently but had explicit support from the Court of Directors.

The Engineering Institution, 1823 In 1823, the Chief Engineer William Brookes proposed the establishment of an engineering institution in Bombay. A general order was issued by Elphinstone on 18 April 1823, ‘with a view of qualifying boys to act under officials of the engineers and to promote arts and sciences amongst the natives.’68 The instruction was for three years. The European boys were to be taught through English; the native boys, through Marathi and Gujarati languages. ‘After the successful completion of the course, the boys would be placed in the revenue department for surveys and in the construction of roads and 104

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bridges. They would begin with a salary of 30 rupees a month.’ The engineering institution ‘was placed in the hands of Jervis.’69 The institution began with 19 students: ‘10 European, 4 Brahmin and 5 other castes from the Charity School in Bombay. The classes were conducted from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m.’ Three months later Brookes reported that ‘they all have gone through the course of common and decimal arithmetic and their progress in drawing is considerable.’ He also stated that he was reporting ‘with really great pleasure’ that ‘the progress is certainly much beyond the attainments of boys in Britain for a similar period.’70 Within a year the strength increased to 50, comprising 14 European and 36 native boys. Brookes reported that some of the Gujarati boys were from wealthy families.71 Elphinstone was happy with the progress as ‘the presence of the sons of wealthy natives produces beneficial results.’72 The government argued that ‘sons of wealthy inhabitants have been allowed to enter the institution not with a view of public service, but solely that they may acquire the sciences and the arts which are taught therein.’73 The examinations were held in May 1826, and 12 of 19 students passed, and of them seven were European and five Marathi boys. All of them were absorbed into the services. No Gujarati boy passed the examination.74 The native boys were not taught English; this placed them in a disadvantageous position. Still, the instructor, Brady, and assistant instructor Jagannath Shastri reported that ‘Sorabji Dhunjee and Mohammad Ali made a model bridge that could not have been excelled by a European.’75 They supported teaching English to native boys. Chief Engineer Samuel Goodfellow opposed it by stating that I cannot call to my mind that I ever met with one native during my long service in this country who could read or write English with any degree of correctness, or who was capable of perfectly understanding any English book of higher classes than those calculated for children.76 Warden countered him by arguing that the ‘natives are infinitely superior to Europeans in their accomplishments.’ Warden quoted the example of a charity school opened in 1814 by the Church and two other European schools. He said that he had visited the school and examined the ‘native boys, who could read, write, understand and speak English perfectly.’77 Elphinstone in turn wrote, ‘I cannot comprehend the reason of his (Warden’s) unwearied opposition . . . the question is really between education, and no education.’78 This was virtually a threat that Warden should accept whatever little education that Elphinstone was willing to give to Brahmins or no education would be given to Indians. Elphinstone’s Minute gives the impression that he championed the cause of Indian vernaculars and that Warden was bent upon teaching English alone. This was not the case. 105

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Warden’s scheme comprised teaching vernaculars and Sanskrit along with English to all children.79 Referring to his two earlier Minutes, Warden ‘challenged’ Elphinstone: Take 100 or 1000 native boys teach half of them Marathi or Guajarati and the other half English. Will any one for a moment contend that the latter before they attain the age of sixteen will not be better and more economically educated than the former? Whilst the means at their command to prosecute their studies or to make themselves proficient in the promotion of their own interests in any particular branch of science or of art after these ages are easy. . . . My schools cost 2–3 lakh rupees, I have no hesitation in saying that I would do if I had the power of acting that the education in the Engineering Institution should be exclusively in English.80 In the presence of such a formidable opposition, Elphinstone had to accept that ‘my only objection to Mr Warden’s plan is its limited nature.’ However, in private communication to other officials Elphinstone accused Warden and his wife ‘for lack of sympathy for India and rooted dislike of the country.’81 Under pressure from Warden, English was introduced in 1826. Within a year Sorabjee Dhunjee and Mohammad Ali made ‘exceptional progress.’ Goodfellow refused to accept the opinion of the examiners and opposed teaching English to Indian students. In the meantime, Instructor Brady died, and Jervis found it difficult to find a substitute. Vishnu Sundar, who had passed out, was retained as an assistant master. Jervis complained that he made no improvement.82 However, the British officers who conducted the examination reported that the native boys continued to perform better than European boys. ‘The natives are more attentive; seem to have an innate turn for algebra and geometry, and generally superior in the construction of minute topographical maps, architectural drawings, plans and models.’83 By 1830 the institution faced a problem. Though the authorities appreciated the ability of ‘native boys who were appointed as surveyors throughout the presidency . . . many refused government appointment after passing the examination.’ George Jervis regretted that ‘the institution had no legal authority to enforce it.’84 John Malcolm removed the institution from NES and the control of the chief engineer and made it a government institution, which enforced the regulation that all those who received education had to join the government service. Malcolm also declared that admission would no longer be restricted to the students of NES but open to boys from all the schools in the Presidency.85 George Jervis at that time was in control of NES, the Engineering Institution, the Lithographic Section, and the training of junior civil servants, and he drew salary from all these four sources.86 After the departure of Elphinstone in 1827, Jervis lost the undue privileges that he had enjoyed. Jervis 106

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disliked Malcolm’s new initiative as he lost the control of the Engineering Institution. The finance committee of the government of India, in consultations with the military committee of finance, recommended ‘discontinuation of the funds to the Engineering institution.’ Jervis wrote a long letter to the government that ‘it has been a task of no ordinary difficulty to create in the first instance a disposition in the natives to turn from their objectionable methods of education to the pursuit of useful European knowledge.’ In the same letter he insisted that those who had passed out of the Engineering Institution now in service should not be promoted and sent back to him for examination.87 In order to curtail the powers of Jervis, the Lithographic Section was shifted to Poona, and Jervis had to move. He wanted to move the Engineering Institution to Poona. This was opposed by the staff of the institution, as well as the governor of Bombay, John Fitzgibbon.88 Jervis still opposed the officers giving promotion to former students now in government service. He insisted on calling them all to Poona for examination. A couple of officers obliged, but the rest did not. The Court of Directors, too, objected to it. They must have been really upset with the highhandedness of Jervis, for they not only refused to move the Engineering Institution to Poona but quickly directed the government to discontinue financial assistance to the institution and hand over the building to the collector’s office and Jervis’s house in Bombay to a judge in the Bombay High Court.89 Jervis requested the governor twice to forward his appeal to the Court of Directors.90 It is not clear from the records whether this was honoured. When the Institution came to an end in 1832, it had 29 students comprising five Europeans in English class; the Gujarati class included three Parsee; two each of Gujarati Wani and Brahmin; and one each of Khatri, Bhatia, and Lohana castes. The Marathi class had nine Brahmin; two Khatri; and one each of coppersmith, goldsmith, and carpenter castes. Jervis attributed the decline of the institution to ‘prejudice of natives.’91

Educational policies, 1827–1835 John Malcolm succeeded Elphinstone as the governor of Bombay in 1827. Immediately he began to encourage the introduction of modern education. He also supported the appointment of Indians in the government services ‘in such duties of trust and responsibility, as the only mode in which we can promote their improvement.’92 Warden proposed that the government should introduce a ‘Native Civil Service comprising of 250 persons’ for the Bombay Presidency and ‘this requires better education.’93 Both these proposals required the establishment of modern educational institutions. In the meantime a public debate started in England to discuss the renewal of the Charter of the EIC in 1833. The Court of Directors wrote to Malcolm that the Bombay Presidency lagged behind in education and that large areas had no schools.94 107

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Malcolm served for a short period. He was succeeded by John Fritzgibbon (Clair) (1831–1835). In the field of education, though they took some tough decisions, Farish and Jervis continued to dominate. Farish even opposed teaching Marathi in Nagari script and insisted on teaching it in modi script though no schoolbooks were available in modi at this time. He declared, ‘I would put a check to the use of balbodh (Nagari).’95 They also rejected a number of petitions for financial aid by natives who had maintained schools in various parts of the Presidency. A petition by Mahadaji Bhavey and Jagannath Krishna Tiluck from Dabol (Konkan) stated that an English school with 200 children functioned till 1832 and closed as the inhabitants could no longer pay the Maratha schoolmaster, Vasudeo Luxuman. He was hired by a missionary of the nearby town Hernee. When they approached the collector, he refused to give salary but appointed a new teacher, Bappajee Risbood. The villagers ‘declined to place their boys under him’ and wanted Vasudev Laxmon back. Instead of providing salary to the schoolmaster, the collector recommended the transferring of one of the four schools in Ratnagiri to Dhabol.96 In 1833, Ramachandra Vishwanathji, Moroba Ramachandra Senoy, Vittoba Laxman Senoy, Balkrishna Ganpatji Prabhu, and Viswanath Sadashivjee Prabhu requested an English school for Ahmedabad. It was rejected as ‘there are very few who are in any way desirous of devoting their time to the study of English.’97 In 1834, George Giberne, the collector of Thane, recommended the establishment of an English school at Tarapur. He selected a candidate named Esslal Wizlall, who had studied for some time in the NES school at Bombay. The government rejected it, stating that ‘it would be making a bad beginning to commence with an incompetent teacher.’ Giberne then selected a qualified Anglo-Indian master named Dean. The government rejected it, stating that ‘the state of our finances precludes government from sanctioning any expense which is not indispensably necessary.’98 In 1834, Ganesh Bhat and other inhabitants of Kusba Gohagar in Anjunwel Talooka wrote to the government that in their English school a missionary taught English and sciences, and since his departure the school has been closed. They requested the government to pay a regular salary to the master. The government decided that the inhabitants of Gohagar were comparatively wealthy and could afford to support a schoolmaster.99 In 1835, the request of Trikumdass Hurjeevandass, Kazi Ameesoodeen, and 970 others of Prant Oorun in Thana district to appoint a teacher to teach Marathi and English was rejected.100 Similarly, the requests from people of various small towns were turned down. In all these cases the people were ready to pay for land, a building, and its upkeep, and requested only for the appointment of English teachers and their salaries. In 1835, Chief Secretary Wathen reported that the government had established 105 schools.101 The list included the schools established by natives and Elphinstone’s administration in addition to those established during 1834–1835. 108

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Elphinstone College Since Elphinstone’s government consistently refused to support modern education, the leading businessmen and philanthropists took major initiative. This group consisted of Jugonnath Sunkarsett, Mohammad Ibrahim Makha, Mandoodass Runchoddas, Jumsetjee Jejeebhoy, Framjee Cowasjee, Bomanjee Hormasjee, Davidass Hurjeevundass, Dackjee Dadajee, and Mahamud Ally Rogay. They raised 226,172 rupees to establish a modern educational institution ‘to teach English language and the arts and sciences of Europe.’102 Seeing their enthusiasm, Jervis immediately appropriated the entire movement. It was easy as the members of the committee were also the members of NES, and the initial meeting was held in the library of NES; Jervis ‘requested to afford his aid as secretary to the Committee.’103 He told the government that ‘the professors desired by the natives cannot be induced to come out from England under a smaller salary than 1000 rupees,’ so offered to set up ‘the endowment as Elphinstone Professorships’ as ‘the project of native’s intellectual and moral improvements by means of education was near Elphinstone’s heart.’104 Jervis admitted that ‘I have on political ground, a consolation derived from my conviction of the impossibility of our ever disseminating that half knowledge of our language which is all any considerable number of the natives could obtain.’ So he asserted that ‘the duty of the Elphinstone professors is to teach few’ who might ‘diffuse knowledge among their countrymen through the medium of their vernacular dialects.’105 In the meantime, Warden prepared a Minute and submitted it to the Court of Directors. In it, he referred to his Judicial Minute of 25 June 1819 in which he had stated that there is ‘a very strong desire among the natives to acquire better education through the study of English.’ Warden argued that through ‘the English tongue native intellect might hereafter rival the rest of the civilised world.’ Warden recommended to the Court of Directors to give ‘at least equal to the sum raised by the natives.’106 In 1833, the government sent the proposal to the Court of Directors. Since Jervis had already designated teaching posts in the proposed college as ‘Elphinstone Professorships,’ and the Court of Directors appreciated ‘the professorships bearing his name,’107 it was not difficult for Bombay officials to attribute the establishment of the college to Elphinstone. They wrote that Elphinstone College was ‘intended to mark the gratitude felt by the native community (for) the indefatigable zeal shown by him and the measure matured and adopted during his government for the promotion of native education.’108 The Court of Directors alluded to the native community, which ‘has chosen, as a means of perpetuating their respect and gratitude towards Elphinstone, the endowment of three professorships bearing his name.’109 The Court of Directors contributed an equal sum as suggested by Warden and directed the Bombay government to ‘take Vidyalaya as a model.’ The Bombay government accepted it and made sure ‘the rules of the 109

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Elphinstone College are sufficiently in conformity with the Hindu college at Calcutta to meet the views of the honourable court.’110 It is ironic that the second important educational institution in India was named after the most powerful person to oppose the introduction of modern education, while Francis Warden, who fought all along, was completely forgotten. Elphinstone College was established in 1835, and the management of the institution was conducted by a council of nine members. They were annually elected. The council consisted of three Europeans, four natives elected by the NES, and a president and a European member nominated by the government. Since all the Indian members were elected by the NES, George Jervis retained his stronghold. The government had a veto on the election of the European members alone; they could not undermine Jervis’s position. The government appointed Chief Justice Herbert Compton of the Supreme Court of Bombay as president and John Wedderburn as a member.111 The college established four professorships: one in languages; one in general literature, mathematics, natural philosophy, astronomy, and chemistry. The first two professors appointed were Arthur Bedford Orlebar, Lincoln College, Oxford, to teach mathematics and natural philosophy, and John Harkness, University of Edinburgh, for other subjects. They were paid 800 and 600 rupees a month, respectively. Elphinstone institution charged 1 rupee per month as a fee.112 To assist poor students to study at the college, the people of Bombay raised 11,400 rupees and instituted a scholarship in the name of the popular judge Sir Edward West. Similarly, they raised another 20,400 rupees to institute a scholarship in the name of governor Clare.113 When Elphinstone College was opened on 18 February 1835, the students did not understand the teaching in English, and lectures were suspended. The low educational standard of the NES was not a surprise. A little earlier, Jervis had sent a batch of boys who had passed out of NES to the Revenue Department for employment in lower positions, and they lacked the necessary skills even for such positions. They were sent back. Nevertheless, W. H. Wathen, the Chief Secretary, insisted that all government appointments should be ‘conferred to the boys of the NES.’114 Robert Grant, the governor of Bombay, opposed it and refused to pass this rule. He also rejected the proposal that ‘influential members of the district should fill up the posts’ by stating that ‘preference of highly qualified strangers is very desirable with a view to the benefit of the district.’115 Wathen insisted that ‘the natives require to be practically convinced that proficiency at the Society’s schools is a sure passport to success in life.’116 The NES admitted that at the moment they have attained knowledge of English sufficient to enable them to earn their bread as writers in a public office. . . . The prospect of employment in this manner will have effect of inducing students to remain at the school for a longer period.117 110

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James Sutherland and E. Ironside supported Wathen. Grant was isolated and wrote, ‘I am utterly unable to reconcile the minutes of my civil colleagues.’118 Grant stood his ground and refused to ‘concede to the opinion of the society’ (NES).119 However, in the end, Grant was forced to accept the proposal.120 In the meantime, the students at Elphinstone College were made to form a junior class, and English language was taught for a year. During this time the students could meet the professors for discussion. Bal Gangadhar Shastri, the assistant professor who also acted as the headmaster, complained that there was no English–Marathi dictionary and no usual aid necessary for studying a foreign language except oral instructions of the tutors. In each class, the meaning of a passage in English was explained in Marathi and Gujarati until everyone in the class thoroughly understood it. This tedious process was taxing on teachers, but they were ‘delighted’ when they observed ‘the student’s anxiety for their own improvement has likewise been remarkable.’121 In spite of these difficulties the boys showed remarkable progress. Orlebar, in 1839, wrote that a student named Waman Rao Trimbuck was thoroughly acquainted with all the differential and integral calculus and parts of dynamics and had gone ahead studying mechanics. Orlebar considered him a mathematical genius and attainments to be such that he would even now obtain very high honours in any of our Universities. His knowledge of general physics is extensive and has learnt the French language, sufficiently well to understand a mathematical or scientific work.122 James Bird, secretary to the College Council, even stated that ‘Waman Rao’s knowledge was beyond what had been attained by any mathematical first class man at Oxford.’ Bhogilal Pranvulub Dass, a Bania student, was good in trigonometry. Bal Gangadhar Shastri, the headmaster, had ‘zeal, to devote his talents and energies to education,’ and his students did exceedingly well in qualifying the exam to attend the classes conducted by British professors.123 In 1839–1840, Elphinstone College had four British professors and two native assistant professors, comprising one Brahmin, Bal Gangadhar Shastri, and one Parsi, Nowrojee Furdoonjee.124 The list of 11 assistant masters was headed by the Portuguese, followed by Parsi, Prabhu and Shenoy; the Brahmin master appears in the seventh position. There were ten teaching assistants with scholarships, comprising four Prabhu, two Parsee, one Khatree, two Bania, and one Shenoy. Among the students, there were 13 West Scholars: The list was headed by Prabhus, followed by Muslim, Parsee, and Shenoy boys, and the Brahmin students occupied tenth and twelfth positions. Among 18 Clare Scholars there was only one Brahmin, in the tenth position. The list was headed by a Parsi. There were three Honorary 111

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Scholars, one each from Brahmin, Modaliar, and Parsee communities. There were 18 boys in the category of un-endowed pupils attached to the classes of assistants and scholars, and of them only one was a Brahmin. The total number of students in the Elphinstone College in 1840 was 619 (including the previously mentioned 62 students). The Parsis dominated with 255 students, followed by 95 Prabhu, 85 artisanal castes, 75 Brahmin, 52 Portuguese, 33 Muslim, 18 Bania, five East Indian, two Mahratta, and two Rajput; two Jews composed the most cosmopolitan character of the institution. Of these 619 students, 332 paid the fee, while the rest either held scholarships or were exempted because of their economic status125(see Table 5.1). During 1835–1840, of those who passed out of Elphinstone ­ College, 47 per cent were Prabhus, followed by Parsis (18 per cent), Brahmin (11 per cent), and Shanavis (8 per cent); 24 per cent consisted of students from artisanal castes.126 Similarly, out of 94 Indians employed in the administration in Bombay, 60 were Prabhus, followed by 11 Brahmins, seven Parsis, five Sonars, and 11 others. However, by 1854, the number of Prabhu students declined from 47 per cent to 21 per cent and saw a rise in Parsi students to 40 per cent. Yet the economic status of students remained the same. In 1856, the number of scholarships at Elphinstone College was reduced from 45 to ten, resulting in an immediate drop out of 35 students. Until 1857, not a single rich boy had entered Elphinstone College. This was also the case with Poona College.127 This shows that the efforts made by Elphinstone and Jervis to promote landed elites (particularly the Brahmins) in the fields of education and employment had not succeeded. The composition of teachers and students of Elphinstone College showed considerable diversity in terms of both caste and class. The glowing appreciation of Indian intellect by the British professors was not palatable to the government. The students who performed well were non-Brahmins and Brahmins from poorer classes. In 1839, the government of Bombay wrote to the Court of Directors that ‘the college is a failure.’ The Court of Directors agreed: People have not shown themselves desirous of benefitting by even the gratuitous instruction of the professors in the more advanced department of literature and sciences, none have wished to attain high proficiency in the use of English language. . . . The natives of India do not yet value, because they do not want such high proficiency. . . . It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that the people should be backward to accept the offer of a collegiate education.128 They also stated that ‘the establishment of a college at present is premature, and the project should be suspended’; otherwise, ‘the admission to the college should be only through the nomination of the government and the subscribers according to the amount of subscription.’129 112

4

4

4

–

5

95

1

3

2

1

2

75

255

8

1

7

5

2

1

18

–

–

1

–

2

–

–

 1

14

21

12

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

 1 – Modaliar – 1

–

–

 1

 1

33

–

–

* Others were Goundee, 1; Maratha, 2; Rajpoot, 2; Oorga Prabhu, 2; Jews, 2; Josees, 5

13

–

–

–

–

 1  1

–

–

–

 2

52

 1

–

 1

–

–

 1

1

–

–

1

–

–

–

5

1

–

–

–

–

–

11

–

–

–

–

–

–

14

–

–

–

–

–

–

Sonar Kasar Muslim Sutar Port Kuntaree East Simpi Others* uguese Indian

Source: Compiled from Report of the Board of Education for the years 1840–41, pp. 77–81.

3

3

Total Brah Pra Parsee Bania Khatri No. min Bhu

Assistant 11 Masters Teaching 10 Assistant West 13 Scholars Clare 18 Scholars Honorary 3 Scholars Un-endowed 18 Scholars All Students 619 Including Above Groups

Category

Table 5.1  Teachers and students of Elphinstone College, 1840

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By this time, Robert Grant, who stood by the college through the initial difficulties, had died, and James Farish became the acting governor. Before the letter had even reached the Court of Directors, Farish had already begun the process of undermining the college by ordering the merger of the College Council and the NES.130 Now, with such strong support from the Court of Directors, he decided to close down the college. On 30 April 1840, Farish announced that he had ‘placed the College in abeyance and the scholarship will cease.’ He also declared that ‘the project is immature, the abolition of the college, and all its appurtenances is necessary.’131 He knew that it would be an unpopular measure as the college was popular among the natives. He misrepresented it by stating that ‘the people admired Elphinstone and it would be unpopular to discontinue the name of its esteemed and honoured founder.’ He ‘entrusted its funds to the trustees of the Native Education Society’ to keep Elphinstone’s name alive.132 This meant that the funds raised by the people of the Bombay Presidency for the introduction of English and modern sciences were placed directly in the hands of its celebrated adversary George Jervis. Farish also declared: Elphinstone scholarships would eventually cease . . . primary object of education ought to be the raising up of teachers . . . hence by converting scholarships into assistant professorships no injustice would be done to its present holders.133 The existing students of the college formed into ‘three classes of Central English School,’ which came ‘to be called Elphinstone College School,’ with Bal Gangadhar Shastri as its headmaster. It was subsequently styled ‘Elphinstone Native Education Institution.’ Farish constituted a Board of Education ‘in which the government will have a proper directing influences.’134 The three vernacular schools run by the NES modelled on the indigenous schools in Bombay came to be called ‘Elphinstone Native Education Institution Marathi Department.’135 For some time, Farish and Jervis successfully passed off the indigenous vernacular primary schools of NES as institutions of higher learning.136

Robert Shortrede’s schools In 1836, when Robert Grant was the governor, Robert Shortrede, a subordinate revenue officer, proposed a comprehensive rural school system for the whole of the Bombay Presidency to prevent the ‘the cultivating and labouring classes’ from becoming ‘easy prey to the land lords and moneylenders.’ Robert Shortrede (1801–1868) was from Jedburg, Scotland, and was ‘a keen Mathematician and came to India in 1822 as a cadet in the infantry under the auspicious of Sir Walter Scott.’137 He was with George Everest in 114

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the trigonometrical survey in India and left it in 1833.138 Shortrede argued that the rural population should be educated so that they understand their own affairs and vigilantly observe and scrutinise the conduct of the native functionaries and successfully resist all authorise actions by seeing that the sums paid by them to government were properly entered in their Receipt Books. . . . It would be a powerful and operative check on the native functionaries.139 Grant called the plan ‘very sensible and satisfactory’ and approved it. Immediately, a notification addressed to the peasants was issued.140 Shortrede established 63 schools in Purandhar Taluka, where he was posted as a subordinate official. His schools attracted children from all castes, including the untouchable castes. The schools were established whenever Patels, Kulkarnis, and villagers petitioned for one. Patels and Kulkarnis sent monthly reports of these schools to the collector. They were single teacher schools, and of the 63 teachers, 60 were Brahmins, and three were reported as Shudra. These schools taught Marathi, English, arithmetic, geography, and mulberry cultivation.141 The inclusion of mulberry cultivation as a part of the syllabus connotes a well thought out plan. The rain-starved Deccan often faced drought, and by providing knowledge of mulberry cultivation to children, Shortrede wanted to ensure alternative income-generating possibilities for the rural population. In these schools, the parents paid 1 anna per boy as a monthly fee; for girls, there was no fee. The teachers were paid 4–8 rupees a month by the government. The total expenditure for all the schools for a year was 593 rupees, 6 anna, and 2 pice. The schools were held in temple courtyards, a veranda, or a shed, depending upon the accommodation available in the villages.142 Thomas Candy, the principal of the Poona Sanskrit College, visited the schools but did not notice any Brahmin opposition to the entry of lowercaste and untouchable children into these schools. The strength of the schools ranged from four in Mawi Darkar village to 45 in Jejuri. The teacher at Jejuri, Naro Madhav Kelkar, was a student of the English High School at Poona. His poverty forced him to ‘give up his studies to labour for his bread.’ He and another teacher at Morgaun were regarded as the best teachers, and their salaries were raised. By 1840, five children belonging to the Ramoshi tribe were admitted, and with this these schools can be considered as the first batch of modern schools to include untouchable and tribal children. Captain Candy suggested to the government to establish ‘one English school in every collectorate to enable the bright students from these schools to pursue higher education.’143 These schools used Laghu Hitopadesh, Neeti Durpan, Junawarchen Wurnun, and Watsurachee Ghosht to teach Marathi; Aesop’s Fables and England Delineated to teach English; and Dialogues on Geography and Bhugol 115

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Table 5.2  Castes of boys in Shortrede’s schools Caste of the Boys

No. of Boys

Kunbi Brahmin Wani Sonar Shimpi Kasar Navi Sutar Teli Potter Muslim Chambhar Mahar Mang Ramosi Others Total

408 338 87 56 36 14 16 18 21 07 32 11     3 +3 girls      1      4     64 1,113 + 3 girls

Source: General Department, 24A, 1843.

Widya to teach geography. The mulberry cultivation was taught by using a text titled Direction for the rearing and treatment of Mulberry trees and Silk worms. Thomas Candy in his report stated: Progress of these schools was greater than I expected to find. . . . Though these schools are not calculated to communicate much learning, I do not see reason to doubt that they will impart to the villagers ability to check the different accounts in which they are concerned and thus to protect themselves from fraud and exaction. They may also be made the channel of a degree of moral ­instruction. The state of these schools is on the whole, I think, as satisfactory, considering the irregular attendance of the scholars, the limited qualifications of the master, and the infrequency of European supervision. They are accomplishing the end which the government had in view in establishing them. The rising generation of Ryots (peasants) will be able to protect themselves from frauds and peculations of corrupt native officials, and will be able to look into their accounts themselves.144 By this time there were 1429 children in these 65 schools, and the government reported the progress was satisfactory. In many villages a little less than half of the boys between the ages of 5 and 10 years were in these schools.145 In 1843, the British Superintendent and the Indian Inspector Ramachundra 116

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Shastree found the schools in a satisfactory state.146 In spite of the success of these schools, they were closed down by the government in 1846 under the pretext of a ‘dearth of school masters and lack of resources.’147 The educational debates and policies of the Bombay Presidency clearly show that the British deliberately but effectively followed twin policies. They privileged affluent Brahmins in education and employment; as a result, the composition of schoolteachers changed from 35 per cent Brahmin and 65 per cent non-Brahmin teachers under Peshwas to 95 per cent Brahmin teachers under the British. They also effectively prevented the introduction and spread of modern education.

Notes 1 Board Collections, No. 21357, Public letter from Bombay 11 August 1824, extensively quotes Elphinstone’s Education Minutes but does not mention a date. 2 Public Department, 82 of 1821, The Proposal for the College of Bombay, 14 November 1820, Public Department, 10 of 1820, Rules for the College of Bombay, 17 July 1821. 3 Public Department, 235 of 1821, Francis Warden to the Members of the Council, 22 February 1821 and A Note by Elphinstone n.d., General Department, No. 10, 163 of 1828, Minute by Elphinstone, 10 April 1825. 4 Board Collections, No. 21357, Public letter from Bombay 11 August 1824, extensively quotes Elphinstone’s Minutes does not mention date. 5 Kotani, Western India in Transition, 89–91. 6 Appendix to the Report, 1832, 248. 7 Ibid, 13 of 1820, Saville Marriot to the government, 20 October 1820. 8 Ibid, 4 of 1821, Minute by Elphinstone, 21 June 1821. 9 Ibid, 19 f 1822, Marriott to Warden, 9 May 1822. 10 Ibid, 9 of 1823, Marriot to the government, 22 November 1822, Fisher’s Memoir states that Elphinstone supported Marriott’s proposal, Appendix to the Report 1832, 248. 11 Bombay Education Consultations, 1826 Letter from Jervis to Reid, Acting Secretary to the government of Bombay, 7 November 1826, Stubbs to the government of Bombay, 23 October 1826, Elphinstone to Stubbs, 29 November 1826. 12 General Department, 48 of 1821–23, Petition from Noormuhammad Ibrahim Parkar and Vinayak Parshuram Divanji and others to Elphinstone, 28 January 1823. 13 General Department, 23 of 1837, Letter from Collector to the Secretary to the government, 15 October 1836. 14 Ibid, 63 of 1824, T.B. Jervis to George Jervis, 6 September 1824. 15 Bombay Education Consultations, 4 January to 31 Dec 1826, George Jervis, governor of Bombay, 22 November 1826. 16 Appendix to the Report, 1832, 43–52. 17 Ballhatchet, Social Policy, 188–189. 18 Ballhatchet, Social Policy, 104, Varma, Mountstuart Elphinstone in Maharashtra 1801–1827, 86. 19 Ballhatchet, Social Policy, 263. 20 Education Department, Vol. I, 1825, Minute by Elphinstone, 13 December 1823. 21 General Department, 1 of 1824, Minute by Francis Warden, 29 December 1823.

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22 Ballhatchet, Social Policy, 263. 23 General Department, 63 of 1824, Minute by Elphinstone, 4 July 1826. 24 Appendix to the Report, 1832, 45. 25 Ibid, 370 Minute by Elphinstone 13 December 1823. 26 Ibid. 27 General Department, 1 of 1825, Government to G.W. Anderson, Judge Surat, 8 October 1825. 28 General Department, 63 of 1823, Report of the Special Committee, 23 September 1823. 29 Education Department, Vol. I, 1825, Minute by Elphinstone, 13 December 1823. 30 Ibid. 31 General Department, No. 13 of 1824, Note by T.B. Jervis. 32 General Department, 63 of 1824, T.B. Jervis to George Jervis, 8 October 1824. 33 Ibid, Minute by Elphinstone, 15 June 1824. 34 Ibid, George Jervis to Elphinstone, 3 October 1824. 35 Appendix to the Report, 1832, 231. 36 Education Department, Vol. II 1826, Jervis to Farish, 6 June 1826. 37 Ibid, Minute by Elphinstone, 4 July 1826. 38 Bombay Education Consultations, 1826, George Jervis to government, 31 May 1826. 39 Ibid, Minute by Elphinstone, 14 June 1826. 40 Fifth Report of the Proceedings of the Bombay Native Education Society 1828– 29, 10. 41 General Department, 92 of 1825, Minute by Elphinstone, 15 April 1825. 42 Ibid, Public Notice, 20 April 1825. 43 Ibid, 163 of 1828, Minute by Elphinstone 10 April 1825 (second Minute of the day). 44 Ibid, Minute by Goodwin, 5 September 1825. 45 Ibid, Jervis to Ferish, 22 February 1826. 46 Education Department, Vol. I, 1826, Jervis to Elphinstone, 10 January 1826. 47 Bombay Education Consultations, 1826, Jervis to the Secretary to government, 6 June 1826. 48 Ibid, Minute by Elphinstone, 8 June 1826. 49 Education Department, Vol II, 1826, Quoted in a Minute by Elphinstone, 14 June 1826. 50 Education Department, Vol. I, 1826, Minute by Elphinstone, 4 July 1826. 51 Education Department, Vol. II, Minute by Elphinstone, 21 June 1826. 52 Ibid, Minute by Warden, 6 September 1826. 53 Ibid, Minute by Elphinstone 21 June 1826. 54 Rao, ‘A Century of Consolidation and Resistance,’ 11. 55 Bombay Education Consultations, 1826 From I Briggs, to the governor, 12 July 1826, From G. Jervis to the Council, 24 July 1826. 56 O’Hanlon, Caste, Conflict and Ideology, 32–34. 57 Bombay Education Consultations, 1826, Minute by Elphinstone, 13 September 1826. 58 General Department, 181 of 1829, H.H. Glass to government, 16 October 1829. 59 Appendix to the Report, 1832, Minute by Warden 29 December 1823, 376–382. 60 Rao, Foundations of Tilak’s Nationalism, 11. 61 General Department, 154 B of 1826, First Report by W.H. Sykes, n. d. 62 Ibid. 63 Ibid. 64 General Department, 207 of 1826, Second Report by W.H. Sykes, n. d.

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65 Board Collections, No. 20837 Court of Directors to Bombay government, 11 December 1818. 66 Ibid, Bombay Judicial letter, 16 May 1821. 67 Appendix to the Report, 1832, the Court of Directors to Bombay government, 29 September 1830, 408. 68 General Department, 24 of 1837, The Engineering Institution. 69 Ibid, 13 of 1823, The Engineering Institution, 30 September 1823. 70 Ibid, 22 of 1823, Brooks to government, 9 October 1823; a couple of sentences between ‘considerable’ and ‘I have really’ are not legible in this handwritten letter. 71 Ibid, 39 of 1824, Brooks to Farish, 3 September 1824. 72 Ibid, 57 of 1824, the government to Brooks, 24 September 1824. 73 Appendix to the Report, 1832, 245. 74 General Department, 27 of 1826, 8 May 1826. The list of boys who passed the examination in order of merit: W.H. Bell, Vishnoo Mahadeo Bhut, William Sinclair, Moreshwar Mahadeo Bhut, Ramakrustna Wajjeenath Bhut, Samuel Price, Thomas Sanger, Sakharam Bapoo Bhut, Robert Scott, Archibald McDonald, James Nock, Mookund Jagannath. 75 Ibid, 19 of 1827, letter to Jervis, 17 May 1827. 76 Bombay Education Consultations, 1826, Goodfellow to the governor, 13 June 1826, and Minute by Goodfellow, 17 May 1826. 77 Education Department, Vol. 2, 1826 Minute by Warden, 26 June 1826. 78 Bombay Education Consultations, 1826, Minute by Elphinstone, 22 August 1826. 79 Ibid, Minutes by Warden, 2 October 1825, 6 April 1826, and 6 September 1826. 80 Ibid. 81 Ibid, Elphinstone to General Smith, 6 May 1822. 82 General Department, 121 of 1829, Goodfellow to the government, 1 July 1827. 83 Ibid, Report of the Examination. 84 Ibid, George Jervis to Goodfellow, 1 December 1829. 85 Ibid, Government to Goodfellow, 21 December 1829. However, a different version of this exists – ‘The change in the rules made the institution free without any pledge that when qualified they shall be admitted into public service.’ Civil Finance Committee to Bombay government 26 April 1830, Appendix to the Report, 1832, 408. 86 Board Collections, No. 40874, Public letter from Bombay, 20 January 1830. The monthly salary of Jervis was 800 rupees as secretary to the examination committee of the junior civil servants, 500 rupees as superintendent of the ­engineering institution, 500 rupees as superintendent of lithographic establishment, 200 as secretary to the native education society. Jervis drew multiple salaries, which was illegal at that time. 87 General Department, 26 of 1837 Jervis to government, 11 April 1832. 88 Ibid, 61 of 1832, Minute by Fitzgibbon, 27 July 1832. 89 Ibid, Minute by Fitzgibbon, 16 August 1832. 90 Ibid, 26 of 1837, Jervis to government 18 August 1832, and 16 October 1832. 91 Ibid, 63 of 1832, Jervis to government, 20 October 1832. 92 Minute by John Malcolm, 1828, Sharp, Educational Records, 144. 93 General Department, 10 of 1828, Minute by Warden, 25 March 1828. 94 Board Collections, No. 27836, Public letter to Bombay, 16 April 1828. 95 Board Collections, No. 72632, Minute by Farish, 2 August 1838. 96 General Department, 303 of 1834, petition, 18 July 1834. 97 Ibid, 279 of 1833 Collector to the government, 10 September 1833.

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98 General Department, 303 of 1834, petition 25 May 1834, and government’s reply 6 September 1834. 99 Ibid, petition 7 July 1834, government’s reply, 10 August 1834. 100 Ibid, 321 of 1835, petition 17 March 1835, government’s reply, 18 April 1835. 101 Board Collections, No. 81607, Report on government schools in Bombay, 30 June 1835: Marathi schools: Thanna-9, Ratnagiri-6, Poona-3, Ahmadnagar-8, Khandesh-4, Dharwar-2, Belgaum-2; Gujrathi schools: Ahmedabad-7, Kaira-6, Surat-12; Kannada schools: Dharwar-5, Belgaum-27; and the Persian school at Panwal.The remaining three English schools at Panwal, Thana, and Salsette were started by Indians. 102 General Department, 183 of 1829. 103 Fourth Report of the Native Education Society, 29. 104 General Department, 163 of 1828, Jervis to government, 4 December 1827; this sentence is underlined in the original handwritten letter. 105 Ibid, Jervis to government, 4 April 1828. 106 Appendix to the Report, 1832, 383–385, Minute by Francis Warden, 24 March 1828. 107 Ibid, 390–394, the Court of Directors to Bombay, 21 November 1828. 108 Board Collections, No. 60267, Letter from government of Bombay to Herbert Compton, 7 July 1834. 109 Ibid, Court of Directors to Bombay government, 10 December 1828. 110 Ibid, Minute by governor of Bombay, 1 March 1834. 111 Ibid, Letter to the Court of Directors of the East India Company, from J. Sutherland and E. Ironside, 17 June 1835. The total expenditure of the institution the committee calculated at Rs. 39,600, the interest of 6% over the capital would give Rs. 16,320–0–08, with a deficient of Rs. 23,279–3–92. West’s Scholarships in 1834 amounted to Rs. 14,063–3–90, and the government’s annual donation amounted to 1,124 rupees. 112 Ibid, Government letter, 12 November 1834. 113 General Department, 9 of 1836, Official Letter 17 February 1836. 114 Board Collections, No. 40874, W.H. Wathen to Revenue Commissioner, 15 March 1836. 115 Ibid, Minute by Robert Grant, 14 August 1835. 116 Ibid, Wathen to Grant, 25 September 1835; this sentence is underlined in the original document indicating the desperation of the supporters of Jervis to give credible status to NES. 117 Ibid, Secretary to Native Education Society to the Government of Bombay, 8 September 1835. 118 Ibid, Minute by Grant, 19 October 1835. 119 Ibid, Minute by Grant, 27 October 1835. 120 Ibid, Minute by Grant, 1 January 1836. 121 General Department, 485 of 1839, Ball Gangadhar Shastree to the College Council J. Bird, 21 August 1838. 122 Board Collections, No. 79939, A.B. Orlebar, Elphinstone College to the President of the Council of Elphinstone College, 21 January 1839. 123 Ibid, James Bird, Secretary College Council to W.B Bruce, Senior Member of College Council, 28 January 1840, and 27 August 1838 from Secretary Elphinstone College to the Sec to Government. 124 Thomas Erskine Perry, the president of the Board of Education, wrote on the death of Bal Gangadhar Shastri of ‘his attainment in science, his conversance with European literature, his remarkable facility and elegance in English composition enabled him to take a high place among the best scholars of the day, but

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in addition to this acquired knowledge, his simple unostentatious deportment, and unwearied efforts on behalf of his countrymen ensured him the respect and regard of all the Europeans to whom he was intimately known.’Report of the Board of Education for the Year 1846, 2. 125 Report of the Board of Education for the Years 1840–1841, 77–81. 126 Dobbin, Urban Leadership in Western India, 31. 127 Ibid, 34. 128 General Department, 27 of 1839, Extract of a Letter from the Court of Directors, 2 October 1839. 129 Ibid. 130 Board Collections, No. 79940 Minute by James Farish, 16 March 1839. 131 Parliamentary Papers, 1845, Vol. 34, 10–14. 132 Board Collections, No. 79941, W.R. Morris Secretary to governor, 30 April 1840 to the Committee of the joint meeting of the Native Education Society, and the Elphinstone College Council. 133 Bombay Public Consultations, 13 May 1840, and 8 July 1840. 134 Board Collections, No. 79941, Farish to the Court of Directors, 27 August 1840. 135 Report of the Board of Education, 1840–41, 86. 136 Despatch to the government of Bombay, 4 November 1858, Returns to the House of Commons, Vol. III, 1859, 22. 137 Edinburg Magazine of 1819, 468, Phillimore, Historical Record of the Survey of India, 502. 138 Edney, Mapping an Empire, 261–262. 139 General Department, 10 of 1836, A Note on Purandhar Schools, 24 February 1836. 140 Ibid, Minute by Grant, 28 March 1836. 141 General Department, 14 of 1839. Report of Thomas Candy, 1 May 1839. 142 Ibid. 143 Report of the Board of Education, 1840, 17. 144 Ibid, 16–22. 145 Ibid, 1843, 30. 146 Ibid, 1846, 11. 147 Ibid, 10–11.

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6 AMBIGUOUS EDUCATIONAL POLICIES Madras Presidency, 1789–1850

The acquirement of English is not made an object of education; it is rather, and most unaccountably discouraged. – John Sullivan, 18321 Teaching English to natives is to reverse the natural order of things. . . . English must ever be in this land to the masses, an unknown tongue. – I. J. Thomas, 18512

Andrew Bell’s monitorial school, Egmore Andrew Bell, an Anglican priest, established the earliest residential educational institution in Madras. In 1789, he founded a school at Egmore in Madras for the orphans of British soldiers and poor British children living in Madras. Bell stated that he derived the system from observing the indigenous schools in Madras and its vicinity. In the indigenous schools in India, a weak student was paired off with an advanced student for further assistance. Beyond this the advanced student had no authority over the weak student as the teacher continued to teach them both. Bell took this informal method of helping a weak student and converted it into a formal system in which ‘the classes were divided into tutors and pupils, and tutors assisted pupils in learning their lessons.’ Above the tutor was ‘an assistant teacher to keep all busy, instruct the tutors and a teacher to supervise the class.’ Over this was the schoolmaster, and above him was ‘a superintendent.’ The school had ‘a Jury of 12 boys’ who maintained ‘a register of daily tasks performed and a register of daily offences expurgated weekly.’3 It was a well-structured hierarchy and had very little to do with the original Indian indigenous method. This is demonstrated by the fact that when the government wanted to introduce the system in its schools in India, it had to translate Bell’s system of education into vernaculars to make the indigenous teachers understand it.4 Even then it was a failure and parents withdrew children from such schools.5 An account of how Bell’s school worked can 122

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be derived from a testimonial by Webbe, a former student who worked in the Bombay government. Webbe reported on the workings of the school in which he had grown up: The boys had Tyr (curd) and rice for breakfast, curry and rice for dinner and pepper water (rasam) and rice for supper. They were served on an earthen dish on the floor. The boys could eat twice as much more as given for a meal, but a second supply was never allowed. Clothes were given three times a week to change; these were a coarse pair of trousers and a shirt. Shoes were not allowed, even if parents or friends were desirous of supplying them. We slept on the floor on a country mat, without pillows or covering, except in rains, when a light quilt was given to the boys. . . . We had play ground and indulged with bats and balls. The hours for learning were from eight in the morning till twelve in the noon and from two to five in the evening. We sat on benches and tables to work on.6 This shows that the living conditions in the monitorial school were close to those of poor Indians than Europeans. Webbe reported that ‘the children in the hospital were treated better. They had a bed and a cot to sleep on and had better food.’ Webbe wrote that he ‘used fork and spoon for the first time when he accompanied Malcolm, the governor of Bombay, on a mission to Persia.’7 Webbe’s rise in the official hierarchy was a rare phenomenon. Most of the children ‘were taught the art of printing’ and ended up as workers in various printing presses in Madras.8

The College of Fort St George, 1812 The earliest educational institution established by the government was a college variously known as ‘the College,’ ‘the College of Fort St George,’ and ‘the Institution’ up to 1839; later, it was known as ‘the Madras High School,’ ‘the Central School,’ ‘the Government Institution,’ and ‘the Madras University.’ The ambiguous nature of this institution also formed the basic characteristic of the educational policy in the Madras Presidency. The genesis of this institution was a despatch sent by the Court of Directors in 1802. In it they ‘called on the Madras government to submit a scheme of its own for the education of its junior civil servants’ modelled on the College of Fort William in Calcutta. The government made no effort. However, in 1808 it realised that all its junior civil servants had learnt Hindustani, and very few had any proficiency in South Indian languages, such as Tamil, Telugu, Kannada, and Malayalam, which were called official languages of the peninsula by the officials. So it proposed that ‘recruits on arrival should be put to study a native language. Native teachers were to be engaged at the public expense and there were to be quarterly public examinations,’ which should 123

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extend to a ‘general knowledge connected with the affairs of the Company.’ However, the new recruits continued to study Hindustani, and the government even proposed to send them back to England.9 On 1 May 1812, the College of Fort St George was established at Madras with the twin purposes of training junior British civil servants in the ‘languages of the peninsula,’ and Brahmins and Muslims as law officers. The Orientalist Francis Whyte Ellis was almost single-handedly responsible for the conception of the college, its curriculum, and its purpose.10 The British civil servants received a reward of 1,000 rupees for their proficiency in Tamil, Telugu, Kannada, Malayalam, Arabic, Persian, Hindustani, and Marathi.11 The college had a superintendent who was a member of the governor’s council and a secretary but no professors. The Indian pundits now designated as ‘headmasters’ taught the recruits for a salary of 35 to 50 rupees a month, and a committee of old British officers proficient in ‘the languages of the peninsula’ conducted the examination. The headmasters were never numerous. At any given time, there were only three to four headmasters.12 The College of Fort St George also began to train the Brahmins and Muslims as law officers, called pundits and kazis, for the courts in 1812.13 On 25 January 1816, the first examination was held at the college: Each student was examined separately in logic, grammar and law and the result was highly satisfying. Fuscheeh-ood-Deen and Mooslih-ood-Deen among the Mahomedans and Nilacunta Sasatry among the Hindus were considered accomplished and awarded honours.14 They were appointed as law officers. The all-British College Board recommended that ‘Brahmins and Muslims are the only category to be considered for government appointments. . . . Any Brahmin and Mahomedan who has not studied in this college but passes the annual examination should also be considered for appointments.’15 Even after such clear patronage, not many Brahmins came forward. In 1825, the college had only 15 Muslim and five Brahmin students. The College Board wrote to governor Thomas Munro to appoint them as munsifs and pass a rule that only those who have passed the examination of the college should be appointed as such. Munro objected to it as the college would gradually under the cover of new rule, acquire virtually the whole of the native judicial patronage . . . there should be no privileged body having the exclusive right of furnishing district moonsiffs the whole population ought to be left open to the district judge.16

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Munro’s tough stand stopped the authorities reserving all the posts open to Indians in the administration, to Muslims and Brahmins alone. The efforts of the College Board to secure only Tamil Brahmin pundits was also a failure as most of the Tamil pundits came from non-Brahmin upper castes, such as Vellala, Modaliar, and Pillais – only the Telugu pundits were Brahmins.17 The college was not successful in training either British civil servants in south Indian languages18 or Indians as law officers to the colonial courts. In order to improve the situation, in 1826, A. D. Campbell suggested that a proper building should be provided to the college.19 The next year the government bought a spacious building called Doveton House to accommodate the college and hoped that it would prepare the teachers for the government schools.20 This did not increase its popularity, and once again the College Board appealed to the government to ‘appoint its students if vacancy arose in the administration.’21 The government took two drastic measures in 1836. The first concerned the sphere of training of junior civil servants in South Indian languages. It announced that ‘knowledge of Hindustani cannot be considered a sufficient qualification for the transaction of business to enable a civil servant to be employed where ever the government may decide.’22 It passed the rule that ‘every junior civil servant should study one of the South Indian languages and could opt for Hindustani as second language.’23 After this, more and more junior civil servants began to pass the examinations in Tamil and Telugu, still opting for Hindustani as a second language.24 The second decision was related to training Brahmins and Muslims as law officers. The government decided to close down the college under the pretext that the modern educational institutions were ‘not popular with the natives.’ R.B. Sewell protested by arguing that ‘there are several English schools in Triplicane, Black Town, St. Thomas and other places which are popular among the native community.’ He pleaded for the continuation of the college or at least turn it into a teacher training college.25 In spite of this, the college pensioned off Rama Krishna Sastri, the Telugu teacher,26 and reported that ‘the Arabic, Persian and other classes in the native languages have been abolished in the College. Books sent by the GCPI from Bengal were proposed to be sold among the Muslim population of Triplicane.’27 There was no official closure of the college; the government incorporated the funds and the highest-paid native official, Ramaswami Pillay, into the newly established ‘Madras University’ in 1840.28 There was one aspect in which the college was successful – its role as a successful publisher. The pundits of the college regularly brought out translations and publication of the earliest grammars, as well as literary texts and textbooks in Tamil, Telugu, Kannada, and Malayalam.29

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Munro schools Thomas Munro was the first to encourage the introduction of modern education and urge for the employment of Indians in all positions of responsibility. As a governor of Madras, Munro questioned, With what grace can we talk of our paternal government, if we exclude the natives from every important office . . . there is no instance in the world of so humiliating a sentence having ever been passed upon any nation . . . no conceit more wild and absurd than this was ever engendered in the darkest ages; for this is, in every age and every country, the great stimulus to the pursuit of knowledge, but the prospect of fame, or wealth or power? Or what is even the use of great attainments, if they are not to be devoted to their noblest purpose, the service of the community, by employing those who possess them, according to their respective qualifications, in the various duties of the public administration of the country? How can we expect that the Hindoos will be eager in the pursuit of sciences, unless they have the same inducement as in other countries? If superior acquirements do not open the road to distinction, it is idle to suppose that the Hindoo would lose his time in seeking them; and even if he did so, his proficiency, under the doctrine of exclusion from office, would serve no other purpose than to show him more clearly the fallen state of himself and his countrymen.30 Munro argued that not only English education should be introduced but that Indians ‘should also be employed in all government positions.’31 The natives possess in as high a degree at least as Europeans all those qualifications which are requisite for the discharge of the duties in which they are employed. They are in general better accountants, more patient and laborious, more intimately acquainted with the state of the country and the manners and customs of the inhabitants, and are altogether more efficient men of business.32 Munro also opposed the Orientalist argument – that the natives would take to modern education and learn English in the hope of a livelihood and not from any love of sciences: Dry simple literature will never improve the character of a nation. To produce this effect, it must open the road to wealth, and honour, and public employment. Without the prospect of such reward, no attainments in science will ever raise the character of the people.33 126

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Munro insisted on appointing natives to high offices, particularly ‘offices of independent nature like that of a judge.’34 Opposing the ‘European arrogance’ of not employing the natives in positions of trust and responsibility because they were incompetent, Munro argued: If it be admitted that the natives often act wrongly, it is no reason for not employing them; we shall be oftener wrong ourselves. What we do wrong is not noticed, or but seldom and slightly: what they do wrong meet with no indulgence. . . . We must treat the natives with courtesy, we must place confidence in them, we must render their official situation respectable, and raise them in some degree beyond temptation, by making their official allowance adequate to the support of their station in society.35 Munro very strongly opposed the opinion of certain officials who regarded the natives as ‘corrupt and dishonest.’ Munro argued that if there were any instances of corruption and moral degradation on the part of natives, it was due to the policy of exclusion followed by the British. This is true of every nation, as well as of India. It is true of our own. Let Britain be subjected by a foreign power tomorrow; let the people be excluded from all share in the government, from public honours, from every office of high trust and emolument, and let them in every situation be considered as unworthy of trust, and all their knowledge and all their literature, sacred and profane, would not save them from becoming, in another generation or two, a low minded, deceitful and dishonest race.36 Munro defended the ability of Indians and repeatedly criticised the B ­ ritish officials for a ‘degrading spectacle of reducing a great and civilised people . . . to the level of domestic servants.’37 Munro declared that the exclusion of natives from higher positions would be both politically and morally wrong. The great number of public offices in which the natives are employed, is one of the strongest causes of their attachment to our government. . . . It would certainly be more desirable that we should be expelled from the country altogether, than that the result our system of government should be such a debasement of a whole people.38 He further stated that it is an old observation, that he who loses his liberty, loses half his virtue. This is true of nations as well as of individuals. The enslaved 127

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nation loses the privileges of a nation, as the slave does of a freeman: it loses the privilege of taxing itself, of making its own laws, of having any share in their administration or in the general government of the country.39 Munro included Indians in the jury and proposed to place the lower judiciary in their hands. This required an introduction of modern education. So he proposed for the establishment of 300 primary schools, called Tahsildari Schools, and 40 secondary schools, called Collectorate Schools, at a cost of 2,700 and 600 rupees respectively. Munro argued that ‘whatever expense the government may incur in the education of the people, will be repaid by the improvement of the country.’ Munro also established a Committee of Public Instruction, with H.S. Graeme, W. Oliver, John Stokes, and A.D. Campbell as members.40 Munro initiated the establishment of the Madras School Book Society in 1820.41 In 1826 he allotted 700 rupees a month to this institution to train teachers and publish schoolbooks. Munro earmarked 50,000 rupees per year for education in the Madras Presidency.42 The Tahsildari and Collectorate Schools taught vernacular, English, arithmetic, and elementary science.43 Though there was resistance from many British officials, Munro was able to establish 81 Tahsildari and 20 Collectorate Schools between 1826 and his death, in 1827. All teachers in these schools, including those teaching English and science, were Indians who had acquired their knowledge through interaction with the British officers and civilians, and in informal schools conducted by Eurasians, and a few missionary schools. The Tahsildari and Collectorate schoolteachers were paid 10 and 15 rupees a month, respectively. In these schools some children paid fees, and others were taught gratuitously. In a school in Tirunelvelli, out of 34 students only four paid fees; the rest were free students.44 Besides these, Munro encouraged the establishment of schools by district officials which were run by diverting a part of the revenue collected within the district. The schools established by Munro had students from diverse social and economic backgrounds. The Tahsildari School at Purusavakam had ten Christian and 21 Shudra students. The Madras Tahsildari School had two Modali, one Maratha, and 30 Shudra students. In the Royapeta School, all 42 students were recorded as belonging to the Shudra caste. In the Telugu School at Pettah, there were 13 Brahmin, 12 Shudra, six Modali, four Maratha, and three Komati children.45 This shows that Tamil Brahmins were not sending their sons to the government schools in the 1830s. The Tahsildari School at Ramnad even had girls.46 In most of Munro’s schools Brahmin, non-Brahmin, and untouchable boys and girls studied in the same classrooms. The death of Munro placed these schools in a precarious condition. They were popular among the people but faced intense hostility from many officials. 128

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Death came to Munro on 6 July 1827, when he succumbed to cholera in a tent pitched in an open yard in Pattikonda, near Gooty, exactly in the same way as his Indian career began. The people of the locality immediately raised 30,000 rupees to erect a choultry, or travellers’ rest house, at the place his body was buried in Gooty and proposed to build a garden at the place where he died in Pattikonda. Acting governor Henry Graeme opposed these measures as he feared that ‘the traveller’s rest house would become a shrine to Munro in the manner of Hindoo shrine.’ To undermine the popularity of Munro, Graeme stated that ‘Cornwallis had vested strong independent powers in the hands of his juniors, including Munro,’47 indicating that Munro owed his popularity not to the hard work, ideals, and goodwill he had earned from Indians but to the English aristocracy. On 21 July 1827, natives and Europeans organised a public meeting at Madras and honoured the ‘public service and public virtue’ of Munro. They raised 70,000 rupees for erecting a statue.48 The huge amounts of money being raised by the people indicated Munro’s unparalleled popularity.

Post-Munrovian educational policies Stephen Rumbold Lushington, an elite senior officer, took over the administration in October 1827 and set out to destroy the Munro system of administration. He refused to ratify Munro’s last legislative proposal, the provision for criminal trials by Indian juries, calling it ‘one of the mistakes of the wise in life’s last days.’ He humiliated Munro’s supporters, and many of them were charged with financial irregularities. They were later cleared by military hearings, but by then their careers had been destroyed. He dismissed Robert Scott, the political agent at Arcot, and appointed his own son for the position. A. D. Campbell, a leading and outspoken member of the Committee of Public Instruction, was shunted out to the Persian translator’s office, notwithstanding the fact that Campbell was a renowned Telugu scholar whose Telugu Grammar was used in Hailebury and Oxford at that time.49 Lushington had earlier supported Wellesley’s policy of introducing zamindari settlement throughout Madras Presidency. However, he could not reverse the ryotwari settlement or closedown the schools established by Munro as the governor-general of India, William Bentinck, was a friend of Munro. Lushington merged the Board of the College of Fort St George, filled with reactionary Orientalist members, with the Committee of Public Instruction, which had Munro’s supporters. This set in motion the decline of Munro’s schools. These measures were supported by the Court of Directors.50 The government insisted on educating ‘higher classes’ and the appointment of teachers from ‘respectable classes.’51 The Court of Directors once again emphatically supported it: The improvements in education which most effectually contribute to elevate the moral and intellectual condition of a people are those 129

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which concern the education of the higher classes; of the persons possessing leisure and natural influence over the minds of their countrymen. By raising the standard of instruction among these classes, you would eventually produce a much greater and more beneficial change in the ideas and feelings of the community than you can hope to produce by acting directly on the more numerous class.52 A. D. Campbell, concerned by this onslaught on Munro’s schools, sought an explanation from the government.53 Rowlandson, secretary to the Board of the College and Public Instruction, in his reply to Campbell admitted that these schools are duly appreciated by the poorer inhabitants . . . has been useful to those people who were unable to employ teachers to educate their children. . . . They know only first rules of science the study of mathematics has become neglected. Tahsildari schools–I am directed to observe that where the advantages of a free school are alighted by the lower classes amongst a people, who are acquainted with the value of education, there must necessarily be something defective in the system of education. Either the teacher is not duly qualified for the office or he is careless in the discharge of the duty belonging to it.54 Rowlandson agreed that ‘hundreds are receiving instruction in the English language.’ Of the boys who had entered schools in 1826, ‘some have been considered sufficiently advanced to be employed as teachers in the province. They can speak and read English fluently but their translations into English or into vernacular are not altogether free from grammatical errors.’ He also accepted the growing popularity of English among the Brahmins: The study of the vedas and puranas as well as mythologies have now it is true been abandoned for the acquirement of a knowledge of the English language, but chiefly, because the latter holds out the encouragement of a livelihood. The introduction of vernacular and a knowledge of English, is what every native of whatever caste or persuasion is now desirous of for his son . . . ‘not the Shastras but a knowledge of English’ says a common Tamil proverb. The native education has not made as much progress as had been anticipated.55 Rowlandson also acknowledged that ‘the generosity of the collectors was responsible for the survival of these institutions.’ He gave the example of Crawley, the collector of Rajahmundry, who continued to support schools ‘without complaining even though only 10 out of 172 had completed all instruction they really afforded.’ Rowlandson was evaluating the number of 130

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students passing out just after four years of the existence of these schools. According to him, this proved that most of the natives sought education ‘in pursuit of livelihood, . . . with a very few exception there is nothing like a love of science has been discernible.’ He agreed that ‘ample employment for teachers of English would at once be found in all the provinces.’ However, he argued that ‘strict rules should be framed for the guidance of the different schools and the school masters should be required to furnish half yearly reports.’56 Frederick Adam succeeded Lushington as governor in 1832. Adam reported to the Court of Directors that ‘we regret to state that little success has as yet attended the measure adopted for the improvement of native education.’ He attributed it to the lack of ‘superior class of teachers.’57 The government sent a communication to the collectors that there was ‘some defect in the system as the teachers lacked the zeal.’ It asked them to send reports on the working of schools in their districts. The government was careful to stress that it was neither against the spread of modern education nor opposed to Indians ‘taking a higher share in the civil administration of their country.’58 In the meantime, Rowlandson wrote to the chief secretary to the government of Madras that a headmaster opposed the entry of an untouchable Pariah boy into the school: The Board instructs me to state, they have not felt a right, to decide, of themselves whether a person of this class shall be admitted as a scholar in consequence of the strong repugnance entertained, by the native headmaster to give instruction to Pariah and the knowledge, that Hindoos of caste, would consider their prejudice interfered with, were Pariahs taught in the same class, with themselves, but under the impression, that it is the intention and wish of government, that the advantage of education should be extended to all classes, they would solicit the order of government, as to the limitations or otherwise, to any particular class of the benefits of the institution or to their being made generally available.59 The incident took place in 1833 when a Pariah student applied to the College of Fort St George for admission, and the College Board, which had only British officers as members, ‘acceded to the repugnance expressed by the upper caste headmasters.’60 The Pariah boy was not admitted. By July 1834, the collectors sent their reports on the schools. It was not what Frederick Adam and Rowlandson wanted to hear.61 Of the 20 collectors, 13 gave encouraging reports, three gave adverse reports because of famine conditions, and only five gave the negative reports that the government wanted. The collector of Coimbatore gave an encouraging report, praising the teachers who taught students from all castes. In the Sattimangalam 131

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School, 50 students had completed their studies with ‘competent knowledge.’ The collector called it a ‘benefit to the neighbourhood as before its establishment, even elementary education was not accessible to the poor.’ The collector of Rajamundry supported the teaching of English in schools and reported that the schools were ‘of considerable advantage for poor, a few children of opulent classes too attend.’ In the Vijayanagaram schools, ‘the students had made considerable progress, and the students left the school early due to poverty.’62 Anderson, a sub-collector of Canara, after examining the students of Sirsi School gave an excellent report. He recommended 10 rupees each to two students who had completed education and 5 rupees each for four other boys who had performed very well in the examination and were still continuing in the school. He also recommended giving books to an English school at Honure which was not a Tahsildari school but was conducted by a native. The sub-collector of Chengalput reported that the schools were fully appreciated by the people but were inadequate for the wants of the population. He asked for ‘at least twelve schools for the district with two masters in each school and liberal government grant for English teaching.’ The collector of Ganjam called ‘the student attainment favourable and the schools were popular among people and children of all classes attended.’ In Madura ‘honorary awards to students who distinguish themselves’ had been awarded. The Collectorate School at Tiruchirapalli, however, had only 50 per cent attendance (20/10), while the Collectorate School at Vishakapattanam was the largest, with 49 students, all present when the enquiry was conducted.63 Almost every school had 100 per cent attendance. The collectors of North Arcot and Guntur reported that failure of rains in the last two years had diminished the usefulness of these schools as the people had migrated to other districts in search of jobs. In spite of this, the two Collectorate Schools had full attendance (19/19 and 32/32). The schools in Malabar were not fully attended because of geographic reasons. The Collectorate School had only seven students. ‘The individual estates and scattered habitation made the students walk a long distance.’ The collector suggested the government ‘to make arrangement for boarding and lodging for students.’64 The negative report came from the following collectors: The collectors of South Arcot, Salam, and Cudapa reported that they were ‘not aware of the precise object of their establishment’ as ‘a great number of castes attend schools.’ They suggested that more wealthy and respectable inhabitants should be able to avail of a public school and a ‘mixture of castes makes them to go for private education.’ The collectors of Nellore and ­Tanjavur called the Tahsildari schools ‘worse than village schools,’ though the ­Collectorate School had 100 per cent attendance (20/20).65

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In 1834 the governor of Madras acknowledged that ‘the natives most anxiously desire for instruction in the English language.’ But argued: The desire of instruction in English as originating in the hope of a livelihood and not in any love of sciences for its own sake the government cannot but consider the desire for employment a worthy cause.66 The British officials working in the districts protested such assumptions. John Sullivan, district collector at Coimbatore since 1816, stated that the abolition of English schools would lead to ‘exclusion from all offices of trust and emolument’ and ‘Europeans taking credit for work actually done by their Indian subordinates.’ He also opposed the ‘high-handedness of never consulting natives while formulating the policies which directly affected their interests.’67 The government ignored these voices of dissent. In December 1834, the president and members of the College Board and the Committee for Public Instruction wrote to the governor that the natives in the south of India are peculiarly prone to draw the most unfounded conclusions from any novel measures adopted by their rulers. . . . (Since the schools were) open to all classes, the higher orders have evinced a natural repugnance to send their children to them, though if the teacher were of a superior order, it is likely this repugnance would be overcome, except probably as regards to Pariahs. . . . We consider the chief defect in the education of the natives in the south of India to be that mechanical instruction which whilst it teaches them to read and write by the use of school books in a language unknown to the people, cramps their intellect in the exercise of its natural power and leaves the heart unimproved by moral impressions.68 The letter suggested ‘discontinuing the original order of Munro for the gratuitous admission of all classes, into these schools, including Pariahs.’ The letter concluded that they were ‘averse to the exclusion of any one on account of his caste’; however, because of native prejudice, it might become a ‘boon to the lowest class alone.’69 By 1834, the stage was set, and the officials were waiting for an opportunity to closedown Munro’s school. When governor-general William Bentinck’s Minute of 7 March 1835, which endorsed Macaulay’s Minute, reached Madras, Frederick Adam and Rowlandson realised the magnitude of the problem they faced. In Bengal, where it was meant for immediate implementation, the government did not have a single English school, while in Madras there were over 101 such schools. If the liberal officers of Madras could get support from Macaulay,

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these schools would be placed on firmer footing with large amounts of funds. A letter from GCPI Bengal to the Madras government confirmed it. This letter emphasised that the Madras government should establish ‘a College borrowing much from the model of the Hindu College of Calcutta. . . . After this, surplus funds if any will be best employed in providing competent English instruction.’70 Frederick Adam and Rowlandson were alarmed by this and decided to close down all the existing schools. They deliberately misinterpreted Bentinck’s Minute as ‘prohibiting the use of the vernacular as a media of instruction in the schools maintained by the government’71 and tried to pass off Munro’s schools as vernacular schools. On 18 May 1836, Frederick Adam abolished these schools, along with the Board of Public Instruction, and established the Committee for Native Education. He suggested that the government set aside a budget of 90,000 rupees to start a school in Madras ‘to teach English and modern sciences,’ which would be ‘open to all classes of all creed,’and ‘proposed to establish a Central or Normal school at the Presidency.’72 However, while communicating it to the Court of Directors, Adam could not find any proof that the Munro schools were indeed only vernacular schools. Since most of the schools, particularly the Collectorate Schools, taught English and modern sciences, they could not obtain any documentary proof in Madras. So Adam used the Orientalist H.T. Prinsep’s letter written to GCPI in Bengal, dated 20 February 1835, in which he had called the Tahsildari and Collectorate Schools as ‘very elementary village schools,’ as a covering letter to the report on Munro’s schools.73 The official pronouncement on the abolition of schools amounted to a withdrawal of funds allotted to schools. Many of the schools continued to function, unofficially supported by charity from natives, local British officials, and missionaries. For example, schools in Ramnad and Nagapatanam were handed over to the American missionaries by the local Hindus and Muslims,74 while H.C. Montgomery, the new collector of Thanjavur, continued to support schools in his district by examining students, awarding prizes, and even constructing a hostel.75 In order to counter this situation, Rolandson wrote to the collectors to know ‘whether these schools continue to be acceptable to the native population generally or disinclination amongst any classes.’ He told the collectors that ‘the decision of the government would probably hinge in a great measure upon your report on these points.’76

The Indian protest John Elphinstone, the nephew of Mountstuart Elphinstone, succeeded Adam as the governor of Madras in 1837. He firmly believed that education was the privilege of the landed gentry and explained it through the analogy that ‘the light must touch the mountain tops before it could pierce to the levels and depths.’77 He continued Frederick Adam’s policy. This was actually a 134

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very unpopular measure. In 1839, a petition drafted by Gazulu Lakshminarasu Chetty, C. Narayanaswami Naidu, and C. Srinivasa Pillay and signed by 70,000 persons in English, Telugu, and Tamil was sent to Governor John Elphinstone. The petition promised financial support to the schools if they were reopened. We have had the occasion to learn the inestimable advantages of education. The natural effects of useful knowledge are fully open to our comprehension. We see in the intellectual advancement of the people the true foundation of a nation’s prosperity. We are the people of this country—inheriting this land for thousands of generations. From its industry its wealth is supplied. By our arms, it is defended from foreign foes. By our loyal obedience to the established government, its peace and safety is maintained. If the diffusion of education be among the highest benefits and duties of a government we the people petition for its share. . . . We seek not education which depends on charity. We shall take a pride in contributing according to our means to so noble a work.78 The Petition Department ledger for the period of November 1839 to February 1840 (vol. nos. 31–32) does not even mention this petition. To counter the effect of the petition, Elphinstone announced the establishment of the University of Madras.

Education Minute of John Elphinstone, 1839 Elphinstone began his Minute with an assertion that ‘no part of our Indian policy exhibits a greater improvement and is more honourable to our rule than the attention which has of late years been paid to the subject of education of the people.’ He alluded to ‘Warren Hastings Madrassa’ and lamented that ‘little has been done in Madras Presidency in this direction.’ He declared that Munro’s schools ‘have produced nothing but disappointment’ and opposed ‘the system of fritting away the sums allowed for educational purposes, upon mere elementary schools and elementary scholars.’ He referred to ‘the supreme government’s decision (Auckland’s Minute) to set apart for national education fully corroborates the view.’79 Elphinstone referred to the government resolution of 18 May 1836 in which Frederick Adam had proposed the establishment of a Normal School for teacher training and expressed his view that the necessity of carrying the influential portion of the natives along with them seems to have been over looked. It is not to be expected that we should have the cordial co-operation of the natives of influence. . . . In the present state of native society the advanced pupils 135

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should be elevated to diligence by seeing a gradual if not rapid approach to their position.80 Elphinstone stressed ‘the necessity of restricting education to the higher orders of the native community.’ He proposed that ‘a college as its namesake a high school of Edinburgh does towards the college of that city, or like great public schools of England’ would be established. He also admitted that ‘I have been led by fanciful analogy.’ He stated that the government had ‘a sum on hand on 13 December 1839 is 87,748 rupees, 13 anna, and 10 pice which should be utilised for the high school at Madras and country schools at Thanjavur, Kumbakonam, Ramnad and Palamcottah.’ Elphinstone declared that the government would establish the Madras University consisting of a Central College to teach higher branches of literature, philosophy and sciences and a high school for the cultivation of English literature and of the vernacular languages of India and the elementary departments of philosophy and sciences . . . open to members of all creeds and sects shall be admissible; consistently with which primary object, care shall be taken to avoid whatever may tend to violate or offend the religious feelings of any class.81 He also stated that ‘no pupil shall be admissible in any department, but such as are able to read and write the English language intelligibly.’82 With the closing down of Munro’s schools, there were no feeder schools left for the proposed high school. Not just Munro’s schools; Elphinstone closed down schools wherever they existed. For example, E.P. Thompson, the collector of Tirunelveli, reported that ‘a respectable Hindoo Brahmin conducted a school in his own house in the fort of Palamcottah for many years. It had 25 boys, sons of native and European soldiers.’ This school received some financial assistance though the letter is not clear how much exactly was given. Thompson requested the continuation of the school as ‘it benefits the children of native sepoys and European artillery.’ Elphinstone stated that ‘no sufficient cause has been assigned for the continuation’ and ordered ‘discontinuation of government support.’83 Elphinstone continued to influence the educational policy in Madras Presidency for decades to come. The British officers before the Indian Education Commission in 1882 stated, Elphinstone looked to the mental improvement of the upper classes of the native community; who have the leisure and means to pursue the higher branches of study; and that from them it might reasonably be hoped, that the blessings of knowledge would be gradually spread abroad amongst the inferior classes of their 136

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fellow-subjects. . . . The light must touch the mountain tops before it could pierce to the levels and depths.84 Elphinstone suggested the establishment of ‘four superior provincial schools’ for ‘respectable classes’85 but did not establish any schools. The people of Madras Presidency were left with no government school for the next 17 years.

The puzzle of Madras University, 1840–1859 John Elphinstone announced the establishment of Madras University in 1839. He abolished the Committee for Native Education and established the University Board, with George Norton as its president.86 Elphinstone’s announcement predates Wood’s Despatch by fifteen years, so the project of establishing a university should have made tremendous progress towards achieving its goal. Norton was a liberal lawyer who was closely associated with Hindu reformers in the Madras Presidency. The leading Hindus regularly met at his house and discussed these issues. They established the Hindu Literary Society in 1830 and an English school in 1834.87 As president of the University Board, Norton immediately set out to carry forward the scheme. Norton had tremendous experience in this matter. He had established the Pachaiyappa School in 1839.88 Within three months of Elphinstone’s Minute, Norton wrote to the government that he had been ‘seriously engaged in arranging for the establishment of the university.’ He requested a sum of 10,000 rupees and the appointment of a secretary to begin day-to-day function.89 The government agreed, and the staffs of the College of Fort St George were taken over for this purpose.90 Norton established a preparatory school and a high school using the existing staff. Elphinstone opposed it and snubbed Norton, denying ‘he had any legal authority.’91 Norton ignored it and ‘strongly recommended for the establishment of four Provincial schools in Bellary, Calicut, Machilipatnam, and Tiruchirapalli, with English headmasters and native assistant masters.’92 George Hay, the new governor, opposed it by stating that it ‘will involve an expenditure of 15,120 rupees per year. . . . It is known that the native community in the interior are slow to admit such improvement as real advantage.’93 Hay criticised Norton for not bringing in any proposal for ‘mass education, particularly lower and industrial classes.’ He also proposed to abolish the preparatory schools established by him. Norton was frustrated with the governor’s attitude. He urged the government not only to establish the proposed four provincial schools but also to support his ‘desire to open an engineering school as Captain Best and Lieutenant Ludlow have offered their services gratuitously.’ In a Minute attached to this letter, Norton admitted 137

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‘the difference of opinion among the members of the Board’ and tried to appeal to the elite sentiments, stating: I would care to remind our colleagues that the aim and object of particular institution of the Madras University and its immediate branch establishments are that of imparting a high quality of substantial and scientific instruction to the upper classes and to such as have leisure to study. The School, the College and the University are all needed for raising the intellectual standard of the native community – for their appointment in public offices. The preparatory school has already supplied so many qualified scholars for the high school.94 Norton even attached the government resolution of 18 November 1836, which proposed the establishment of four provincial schools.95 George Hay complained to the Court of Directors that the people of Madras Presidency who promised ‘pecuniary assistance did not comply’ and that ‘the government was disappointed.’96 The 70,000 persons who had signed the petition were ready to extend financial support to schools to teach modern education in their own towns but not to a college for teaching Sanskrit and Arabic in Madras, as the proposed Madras University was nothing but a new name for the College of Fort St George. Moreover, the leaders who drafted the petition were non-Brahmins who had no access to this Sanskrit College. The ambiguous nature of the educational institutions starting from the College of Fort St George to the Madras University and their relation to one another is well maintained in the official records. However, accurate information could be gathered from the documents of the finance branch, specifically the salary and pension sections. For example, the civil auditor wrote to the government that ‘Ramaswami Pillay was Assistant English Master in the late Department of Public Instruction attached to the College of Fort St George from 16 December 1827 till 15 October 1840.’ He wanted ‘clarification from the government whether his appointment in the High School or Madras University may be considered as employment in the Public Service or come under pension scheme.’ The letter also mentions that ‘Ramaswami Pillay, interpreter in the vernacular department of the high school is disqualified due to old age and daily increasing infirmity.’97 Another letter also mentions the finances of the Madras University. During 1 November 1848 to 30 April 1849, the Madras University, or rather the high school, collected 2,442 rupees as fees from the students. It spent 450 rupees on Pachaiyappa Endowed scholarships, while Elphinstone Endowed scholarships were only 72 rupees.98 It is not clear from the records how many students actually studied there. A later report admitted that ‘the causes for the paucity of attendance at the high school’ were that a ‘large number of 138

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scholars attend the missionary and private schools’ and sought ‘a remedy for it.’99 In the meantime, Hay reported to the Court of Directors that we think that proposals to establish medical and civil engineering colleges at this moment are unwarranted by the state of preparation in the native community and that it will be quite time enough when amongst some hundreds of native young men, familiar with the use of English language and with various important branches of general knowledge, classes can be formed for the cultivation of professional and practical knowledge.100 Hay also abolished ‘the preparatory school connected with the Madras University and use the portion of the amount thus saved for introducing stipendiary scholarship like the government of Bengal.’101 The Court of Directors while supporting the abolition of schools, suggested that there was no need to establish a high school in Madras, as Patcheappah High School had been established by natives.102 The Patcheappah School at that time was an elementary school with two teachers and 20 boys operating in a small native house. In 1850 it was shifted to a large, spacious building, and the school rose rapidly after that.103 By 1847, debates began once again in England as the Charter of the EIC was coming up for renewal in 1853. The Despatch from the Court of Directors recommended the establishment of four provincial schools.104 Hay not only ignored the Despatch but also went ahead and curtailed the powers of Norton as the president of the University Board by placing it under the newly formed Council of Education.105 On the same day, Hay ‘recommended adding English department to the Madrasa proposed to be established by the Nawab of Inadrissore.’106 It is not clear from the records who was the Nawab of Inadrissore or whether the Madrasa was actually established. In the meantime, the government announced that the University Board had conducted the Madras University examinations on 12 May 1849.107 What kinds of exams were they in the absence of a college? Henry Pottinger (1789–1856) succeeded Hay as governor and asked for complete information. The secretary to the College Board wrote to the government that the Madras University conducted the examination of Junior Civil Servants attached to the College. Six British officers passed the examinations in Telugu and Tamil. T. A. N. Chase who was examined in Telugu failed. Chase has been attending the College for 5 months and cannot read any urzee (application) or hold any kind of conversation.108 This reply was filed under the title ‘Native Education.’ Thirty years later, even the Indian Education Commission could not give any details of ‘the 139

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high school . . . under the name of the Presidency College’ but admitted that ‘southern India owes much of its educational progress to the efforts of missionary societies.’109 The officials reported to the government that ‘no new schools would be established due to lack of funds, but still small pecuniary grants in the establishment of schools could be given to the local committees.’110

Minute by Henry Pottinger, 6 June 1851 The reply of the College Board annoyed the governor Henry Pottinger. Pottinger was a liberal and became exasperated at such deception practiced by the British officers in Madras. He drafted a powerful Minute on education, in which he wrote that I am perplexed and unable to account for little progress made by the Madras University. . . . It is unequivocally admitted that the uncertain and languid condition which the Madras University must now be held to betray, had originated in latent causes beyond their (Norton and others) control. I say with regret that the existence of the university and high school for ten years have not showed itself in any tangible or substantial shape.111 Pottinger ‘compared the students of the Madras University with that of Bengal, Bombay and the North Western Provinces’ and declared that ‘Madras falls much behind as to number and general proficiency.’ He also recognised that the lack of students in the high school was due to high monthly fees and recommended a reduction. He also recommended the establishment of a Normal School to train teachers and provincial schools with trained teachers. He stated that the government had on 31 December 1850 an amount of 11,06,562 rupees meant for education, which was ‘sufficient to erect a building for the university and every extension of native education.’112 Pottinger mentioned a report on missionary schools prepared by the officials of 789 schools with 23,000 students of all castes. They comprised 20,000 boys and 3,000 girls. Of them, 19,000 were at fee paying schools, and 4,000 were at charity schools. The largest group, 7,308, studied Tamil, while 3,980 Telugu, 3,307 English, and the remaining 8,405 students studied all other languages.113 In order to streamline education in general and Madras University in particular, Pottinger reconstituted the Board of Education, with Daniel Eliott as the president and George Norton, Walter Elliot, Vansistat Ston House, Henry Montgomery, and W. A. Morehead as vice-presidents. For the first time he appointed eight Indian members to the Council of Education and wanted two more; he left two blank places. The Indian members were Runganathan Shastry, C. Sreenevassa Pillay, P.T. Ramanjooloo Naidoo, 140

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C. Ceunniah Chetty, Hyder Jung, P. Mariasoosay Moodelly, Asuph Jung, and Sooberooloo Naidu. With these changes, Pottinger hoped to give ‘fresh impetus and new life to this important project.’114 Pottinger’s hopes were dashed to pieces within a fortnight by the very officers he handpicked to serve on the Council of Education.

Minute by I.J. Thomas, 26 June 1851 I.J. Thomas, the chief secretary to the Madras government, came down heavily on Pottinger’s Minute. ‘It appears to me to teach English is to reverse the natural order of things. . . . English must ever be in this land to the masses, an unknown tongue.’115 Thomas argued that ‘it is premature to found classes for higher branches’ as only ‘a smattering of English may be acquired by a considerable number.’ But after a couple of paragraphs on defending the existing education system, he admitted that if English is taught to native children, scores of youth out of a population of millions, masters of the higher sciences – well acquainted with all the beauties of Shakespeare, of Milton and with the learning of Bacon, and with the great master minds of Europe, and the rest of the people, not the lowest classes alone, left in their hereditary ignorance and that ignorance Asiatic. They will be a small isolated class.116 Thomas argued that there was no emphasis on moral training – ‘education without moral culture is probably as often injurious. I do not then consider making of Shakespeare a standard book is practically wise-if moral culture is kept in vain.’ So he argued that In India, native education results in an enormous cost to the state . . . high acquirement in science or literature will be appreciated and understood by none, but few alone highly educated. There is a broad and impossible line between them and all others. The superior acquirements of the few are barren and fruitless to any general influence upon the society. He defended his position by stating that it was not ‘the wealthiest or the class raised by the possession of property . . . but the poor Brahmins and other high castes are quite well prepared and more anxious to enter our schools.’117 He recommended the establishment of ‘a grammar school and not a University.’ It is interesting to note that he also stated, ‘Let us not neglect women’s education’ but did not elaborate on it. Thomas was ably supported by Daniel Eliott, the newly appointed president of the Council of Education. 141

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Minute by Daniel Eliott, 5 August 1851 Eliott, handpicked by Pottinger to head the Council of Education, began his Minute by stating that he had ‘no practical experience on the subject of Native Education and had acquired knowledge by reading the files during 26 June to 5 August 1851.’ After gaining an understanding of native education in such a short time, Eliott opposed Pottinger. It is not advisable for the governor at present to interfere in any degree with the original fundamental regulations and rules of the university, but to allow such alteration and amendments as may hereafter prove to be desirable and reshaping them to enable from and to be carried into effect by the new Council of Education with Knowledge and concurrence of the government.118 He extensively quoted the Minute by John Elphinstone and the Despatches from the Court of Directors to defend his position. In their Despatch of 28 August 1844, the Court of Directors had advised the Madras government that Effectual provision be made for the scholars at the high school for acquiring a thorough knowledge of vernacular languages. . . . The establishment of the College department should depend upon the development of a real demand for the means of acquiring higher knowledge than it is to be acquired in the high school.119 He repeated Elphinstone’s support to ‘the enlightenment of upper classes,’ elaborately discussed ‘a good deal of controversy in Bombay between Thomas Erskine Perry and George Jervis,’ and concluded it by stating that ‘the government of Bombay have directed that superior education through English shall strictly be limited to the wealthy who can afford to pay for it and a native youth of unusual intelligence.’ This, according to him, did not apply to Madras, where the classes for whom our schools are intended are very homogenous in character and not divisible into upper and lower classes, the system of education pursued in them should be uniform also and an opportunity be afforded to all of mastering their own language and rudiments of English.120 Eliott called this the ‘National Education in India.’ He emphasised on ‘moulding moral character of the youth’ and raised the issue of ‘female ­education – I shall add one more suggestion that it is of utmost importance.’ He appreciated the Hulkabandi system. He declared that ‘they have become rivals to indigenous schools.’121 In order to remove Norton and Indian members from influencing 142

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any future decisions, Eliott established ‘an executive committee within the Council of Education comprising of six British officers, to carry on the administration.’ He also declared that ‘the Council should not have authority to introduce any innovation of importance in principle nor make any changes without being laid before the Executive Committee.’122 Thus, every effort by Henry Pottinger to improve the education system and empower Indians as decision-makers in the field of education came to an end within 60 days. However, there is one advantage that can be derived from Eliott’s Minute. It gives an accurate picture of the amount of funds available for education in the Madras Presidency and how the British officers avoided spending it. In a Despatch dated 16 April 1828, the Court of Directors had approved Munro’s budget and allotted 50,000 rupees per year for the purpose of education.’ They were essentially meant for Munro’s schools. The amount had accumulated to 1,106,562 rupees, 10 anna, and 11 pice in 1851. This meant that the government of Madras had spent only 43,438 rupees in 23 years for the purpose of education. When John Elphinstone declared in his Minute in 1839 that the government had only 87,748 rupees for native education, he actually had 550,000 rupees, and in 1844, when George Hay abolished the preparatory school to save a few hundred rupees, he was sitting on an education fund of 800,000 rupees! In addition, a special (pagoda) fund of 800,000 rupees was allotted in 1846 for the establishment of the Madras University. Now, instead of adding both the amount, which would have yielded 1,906,562 rupees, and 194,000 in interest accumulated on pagoda fund, Eliott declared that the available fund for native education was only 306,562 rupees, 10 anna, and 11 pice! He admitted that ‘we might provide for the university at the Presidency, and for a certain number of provincial and district schools on a tolerably liberal footing.’ Later, towards the end of the Minute, Eliott stated that the pagoda fund of 800,000 would be raised to 1,000,000 rupees (actually 194,000 interest had already accumulated), and if invested in a 4 per cent loan, would get 40,000 rupees per year. This, along with the 50,000 rupees annually earmarked for education, was sufficient for ‘4 provincial, 2 district and a proportion of Tahasildari schools.’123 After the abolition of Munro Schools in 1836, no schools were established until 1853. So the Madras Presidency remained without government schools for 17 years. The people relied entirely on the missionary schools. In 1855 when the education department was established there were 700 missionary schools of which 50 were secondary schools along with 12 secondary schools established by Indians.124 The Indian Education Commission admitted that the education in Madras Presidency was ‘founded by independent effort.’125

Post-1852 developments In spite of such a rigorous stand against the introduction of modern education, the government had to take up at least some measures as the Charter 143

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of the EIC was up for renewal in 1853. The liberals in Britain had already begun a campaign for education in India and had approached the British Parliament in 1852; once again, education became a primary concern in the debates. The Madras government had escaped major criticisms during 1832–33 as it had Munro schools. Now, it had to show some improvements. This weakened the position of conservative officers such as Thomas and Eliott. Moreover, in 1854, George Harris, a liberal, became the governor of Madras. Before coming to Madras, Harris was the governor of Trinidad and had earned a name as a good administrator. He selected Alexander Arbuthnot, a liberal officer and an admirer of Thomas Munro, as the first Director of Public Instruction. Together they laid a firm foundation of modern education in Madras Presidency which paid rich dividends in the second half of the nineteenth century. Harris and Arbuthnot established four provincial schools in Rajahmundry (1854), Kumbakonam, Calicut, and Bellary (1855). These schools levied a fee of eight annas per month, but gave high-quality education. The College of the Madras University was named the Presidency College, and an actual college was started. Taluka and district schools were also established. The Rajahmundry School began with 116 boys, while Bellary and Kumbakonam Schools began with 169 and 193 boys, respectively. The Calicut school began with 238 boys, and 100 boys joined on the very first day126 (see Table 6.1). There was opposition to the entry of boys from untouchable castes in the Rajahmundry school. Unlike Rowlandson in 1831–32, Arbuthnot did not encourage such behaviour or close down the schools. The schools continued to function with boys from all castes. The statistics for Christians consist of European, Eurasian, and native Christians. The nine scholarships at the Presidency College, 11 in the Madras Medical College, and 50 in the Government Normal School were equally shared by Brahmin, Modali, Naidu and Pillay, and Christian boys.127 Table 6.1  Castes of students in Madras Presidency, 1857 Name of the Institution Presidency College One Normal School Four Provincial Schools Five Zilla Schools Twenty-seven Taluka Schools Total

No. of Boys, 1857

Brahmins

Other Hindus

Muslims

Christians

260 326

79 25

146 258

4 5

31 38

756

318

298

17

123

853 1,182

286 319

479 774

29 71

59 18

3,377

1,027

1,955

126

269

Source: Report on Public Instruction for 1856–57, Madras, Public Instruction Press, 1858, p. 79.

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The resistance to introduce modern education was an all-India pattern guided by the English aristocracy’s disdain for the poor. In addition to it, the officers in Madras may have been guided by fear of English-educated natives complaining to the British Parliament against their misrule in India. There were several cases of natives directly sending their complaints to British Parliament. For instance, a petition by L. Vencatakristnamah Naidoo and L. Vencatasem Naidoo reported the ‘political bondage in which the local government keeps the native residents in the mofussal.’ They gave the example of the session judge of Kadalur, on the charges of riotously assembling for the purpose of obstructing the annual settlement of the public revenue, and refusing to disperse when called upon to do so by the additional collector of South Arcot, and were severely sentenced to three years hard labour in irons, their names are Vembadee, Moorooguppa Moodelly, Ramaswami Naidoo, Chinnasoobba Reddy, and Moothiah Gounden. The petition quotes several instances of ‘illiterate men suffering’ at the hands of the British officials and asserted that ‘the dislike of the natives to the boasted paternal government of the Company (EIC) is not confined to the more enlightened classes amongst us, but is felt in equal proportion by the uneducated from the capital to the more remote parts of the presidency.’128 If such petitions became widespread, they would have been detrimental to the interests of the East India Company.

Notes 1 Appendix to the Report, 1832, 7. 2 Public Consultations, Minute by I. J. Thomas, 26 June 1851, No. 36. 3 Bell, An Analysis of the Experiment in Education, 1–4. 4 GCPIC, Vol. No. 49/2, Bayley to the governor-general, 16 April 1821. 5 GCPIC, Vol 50/1, H.H. Wilson to H. Wood, accountant-general, 1 January 1821. 6 Appendix to the Report, 1832, 397–398. 7 Ibid. 8 Blackburn, Print, Folklore and Nationalism, 77–78. 9 Appendix to the Report, 1832, Letter from Madras, 10 January 1812, 601. Bowen, ‘The East India Company’s Education,’ 120–121. 10 Blackburn, Print, Folklore and Nationalism, 92. 11 Appendix to the Report, 1832, Proclamation by Madras Government, 606–607. 12 Ibid, Ramaswami, Madras Literary Society, 26, Blackburn, Print, Folklore and Nationalism, 96. 13 GCPI Correspondence, Vol. 3, No. 20, 1816, Letter from College Board to the governor John Abercromby, 23 January 1814. 14 Letter, 28 February 1816 from the College Board to the governor Hugh Elliot. 15 Ibid, Additional Rules for the College of Fort St. George. 16 Appendix to the Report, 1832, Minute by Thomas Munro (n.d.), January 1825, 356–357.

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7 Venkatachalapathy, ‘Grammar, the Frame of Language,’ 121–122. 1 18 Bowen, ‘The East India Company’s Education,’ 122. 19 Appendix to the Report, 1832, Memorandum by A.D. Campbell, 619–623. 20 Public Consultations, 16 February1827, No. 6, Ramaswami, Madras Literary Society, 25. 21 Public Consultations, 26 December 1835, No. 23. 22 Ibid, 29 March 1836, No. 13. 23 Ibid, 24 May 1836, No. 14. 24 Ibid, 31 January 1840, No. 15, List of Junior Civil Servants attached to the College for the year 1839. 25 Public Consultations, 18 August 1836, No. 5. 26 Ibid, 29 October 1836, Nos. 35–36. 27 Ibid, 20 December 1836, No. 26. 28 Ibid, 8 June 1836, Nos. 34–35; Pillai drew a monthly salary of 85 rupees. 29 See Ramaswami, Madras Literary Society, Blackburn, Print, Folklore, and Nationalism, Raman, Document Raj, Trautmann,The Madras School. 30 Minute by Thomas Munro, ‘On the employment of natives in the public service,’ 31 December 1824, in Arbuthnot, Major-General Sir Thomas Munro, 321. 31 Ibid 32 Ibid, 319. 33 Ibid, 320. 34 Minute by Munro, 6 April 1827, The Minutes of Sir Thomas Munro, Government of Madras, 29 July 1820–28, May 1827, Additional Manuscript No. 22077, 125–129. 35 Arbuthnot, Major-General Sir Thomas Munro, 320. 36 Ibid, 322. 37 Sastri, The Munro System of British Statesmanship in India, 20. 38 Ibid, 323. 39 Ibid, 324. 40 Appendix to the Report, 1832, 227. 41 The Asiatic Journal and Monthly Register, 499. 42 Appendix to the Report, 1832, 359, Minute of Munro, 10 March 1826. 43 Public Consultations, Nos. 8–9, Tahsildari Schools, 12 December 1826. 44 Public Consultations, Nos. 15–16, Report of the College Board on the State of Native Education, 8 February 1833. 45 Public Consultations, 12 October 1832, No. 10. 46 Ibid, 9 February 1840, Nos. 46–47, D. Poor, Principal Collector to the Secretary to the government of Madras. 47 Stein, Thomas Munro, 299–304. 48 The Gentleman’s Magazine, 180. 49 Public Consultations, 14 April 1837, no. 5, and 13 February 1839, no. 2. 50 Appendix to the Report, 1832, 363, Court of Directors to Madras government, 3 September 1828. 51 Public Consultations, 20 May 1830, No. 68. 52 Ibid, 364, Court of Directors to Madras government, 29 September 1830. 53 Board Collections, No. 55048, Campbell to the government, 29 September  1830. 54 Ibid, Rowlandson Secretary to the Board of the College and Public Instruction to the Court of Directors,15 November 1832. 55 Ibid. 56 Ibid. 57 Board Collections, No. 79197, Letter from Madras government to Court of Directors, 15 February 1833.

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58 Public Consultations, Nos. 16–18, Instructions to the Collectors in the Provinces on Tahsildari Schools, 12 March 1833. 59 Public Consultations, Nos. 24–25, I Rawlinson the Secretary to the Board for the College and Public Instruction to the Chief Secretary, 21 December 1833. Education of a Pariah. 60 Raman, Document Raj, 86–87, the group of headmasters consisted of Tandavaraya Mutaliar, (upper caste) Vishaka Perumal Aiyar, Mahalinga Aiyar (Brahmins) and Muthusami Pillai (a Tamil Catholic). 61 Board Collections, No. 79197, Compilation of Reports from the Collectors, 1 July 1834. 62 Ibid, Madras government to the Court of Directors 2 June 1836. 63 Ibid. 64 Ibid. 65 Ibid. 66 Public Consultations, 21 November 1834, No. 48, Teaching English at Tahsildari Schools. 67 Frykenberg, ‘Modern Education in South India,’ 49. 68 Board Collections, No. 79197, Letter, 30 December 1834. 69 Ibid. 70 Board Collections, No. 79197, GCPI to Madras government 15 July 1835. 71 Richey, Educational Records, 178. 72 Public Consultations, 18 May 1836, No. 5, On Remodelling of the Department of Public Instruction. 73 Board Collections, No. 79197, Letter from Madras to the Court of Directors, 2 June 1836. 74 Public Consultations, Nos. 41–42, 1844, Education Report for Madura and Ramnad. 75 Public Consultations, Nos. 5–6, 1841, Letters from Montgomery to the Secretary to government in the Public Department, 30 June 1841, 19 July 1841, 10 August 1841. 76 Public Consultations, No. 8, Rowlandson to John Blackburn Collector of Madura, 10 November 1838. 77 Arbuthnot, Selections from the Records, 47. 78 Board Collections, No. 79199, Public address to the governor of Madras, 11 November 1839, signed by 70.000 persons. 79 Public Consultations, No. 5, Minute by John Elphinstone, 12 December 1839. 80 Ibid. 81 Ibid. 82 Ibid. 83 Public Consultations, No. 31, Thompson to government, 24 June 1840, the government order No. 810, 25 July 1840. 84 Report by the Madras Provincial Committee, 88. 85 Public Consultations, Nos. 33–34, Minute by John Elphinstone, 12 February 1841, attached to Four Provincial Schools, 6 December 1842. 86 However, throughout the 1840s the government continued to simultaneously refer to The University Board as The Committee for Native Education, The College Committee, and The College Board. 87 Frykenberg, ‘Modern Education,’ 52. 88 Memorandum, Education Proceedings 1873, 117. Pachaiyappa belonged to Vellalar caste, upon his death left a large bequest for charitable and religious endowments which became the object of prolonged litigation by his family members. At this juncture Norton became advocate-general. He got the cases resolved and utilised the money to establish Pachaiyappa School in 1839.

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89 Public Consultations, Madras University, Nos. 7–8, Norton to the government, 16 March 1840. 90 Ibid, the Government Resolution, 24 March 1840. 91 Public Consultations, Nos. 91–92, Madras University, 8 September 1841. 92 Ibid, No. 33, Norton to government, 8 September 1842. 93 Ibid, No. 34, Government to Norton, 15 September 1842. 94 Ibid, No. 38, Norton to government, 18 November 1842. 95 Ibid, No. 34, the government resolution, No. 1128. 96 Ibid, Minute by George Hay, 28 August 1843. 97 Ibid, No. 19, Civil Auditor to the government, 21 September 1848. 98 Ibid, 7 August 1849, Madras University Examinations. 99 Arbuthnot, Selections from the Records, 317–338. 100 Public Consultations, Despatch from the Madras Government, No, 20, 18 October 1843. 101 Public Consultations, Madras University, No. 46, the government of Madras to the governor-general of India, 5 January 1844. 102 Ibid, Nos. 46–47, Despatch from the Court of Directors, 28 August 1844. 103 Education Proceedings 1873, Memorandum, 117. 104 Public Consultations, Nos. 9–10, Despatch from the Court of Directors 9 June 1847. 105 Ibid, Nos. 20–21, Minutes of Consultations, 3 October 1848. 106 Ibid, No. 66, 3 October 1848. 107 Ibid, Nos, 31–32, 31 July 1849, Madras University Examinations. The University spent 14,294 rupees and 8 anna on ‘school masters,’ and 15,554 on house rent for the period of 1 November 1848 to 30 April 1849. Ibid, Disbursement to the Madras University No. 31, 31 July 1849. 108 Ibid, Nos. 66–67, October 1850, Native Education. 109 The Report of the Indian Education Commission, 10. 110 Public Consultations Nos 33–34, 20 March 1851, Government Notification on Vernacular Education. 111 Ibid, Minute by Henry Pottinger, 6 June 1851, Nos. 35–38. Pottinger came to India in 1803 as a cadet and rose to the position of the Collector of Ahmednagar in 1818. He became the first governor of Hong Kong in 1843 and became the governor of Madras during 1847–1854. 112 Ibid. 113 Ibid. 114 Ibid. 115 Ibid, No. 36, Minute by I.J. Thomas, 26 June 1851. 116 Ibid. 117 Ibid; the Despatches mentioned by Thomas were 28 August 1843 and 26 July 1848. 118 Ibid, No. 38, Minute by D. Eliott, 5 August 1851. 119 Ibid. 120 Ibid. 121 Ibid. 122 Ibid. 123 Ibid. 124 Report on the Applications for Grants in Aid of Schools Public Index, 1857, 89. 125 Report of the Indian Education Commission, 29. 126 Report on Public Instruction, 1854–55, 5–15. 127 Ibid, 80. 128 Fourth Petition to the Imperial Parliament, 24–25.

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I stress on the teaching of vernacular in our English schools. Indeed I conceive that an order to give instruction in the English language is, by necessary implication, an order to give instruction, where that instruction is required, in the vernacular language.  . . . Teaching vernaculars seems to me to be bona fide part of an English education. I would be glad to furnish these schools with good Hindee books. – Thomas Babington Macaulay, 18361

Background to Macaulay’s Minute By 1835, every educational institution established by the colonial state taught Arabic and Sanskrit, and every Indian effort was geared towards acquiring modern education and the English language. The Education Department, dominated by the British Orientalist Arabic scholars, wanted to introduce medical education and modern scientific and technical knowledge through Arabic language. The Indians wanted to acquire the same through English and translate it into modern Indian vernaculars.2 Therefore, there was a disparity between what the colonial state was willing to offer and what Indians actually wanted in the field of education. The Orientalists and other elite British officials continued to argue that the ‘native prejudice’ prevented the introduction of modern education and declared ‘the natives would at best be smatterers of English . . . in the hope of a livelihood and not in any love of science for its own sake.’3 This was a clear misrepresentation of facts. Indians were demanding the introduction of modern education across India. These demands were not limited to urban centres; they came from rural hinterlands as well. Since the 1790s, Indians were removed from all positions of responsibility, and the only jobs available to Indians were those of pundits and kazis in the courts; sepoys, or soldiers in the army; police guards; and assistants in the Revenue Department; none of these jobs required knowledge of the English language.4 So the Indian aspiration for modern education was not linked to jobs in the administration. The curriculum of the 149

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schools established by Indians also shows that they aspired to not only learn the English language but also the entire gamut of modern knowledge. In spite of this evidence, H.T. Prinsep insisted time and again in his Minutes that ‘English education was confined to tracing alphabets and the lisping of grammars by people who should be studying (oriental) philosophy.’ This went against obvious evidence available in Calcutta itself. The students of the Vidyalaya studied Shakespeare, Milton, Dryden, and Pope’s Iliad and Odyssey.5 By 1829, India had produced its first English poet – Kashi Prasad Ghosh (1809–1873). He published a collection of poems titled The Shair and Other Poems. Ghosh was not a Westernised Anglophile; rather, he exhibited ‘patriotic fervour’ and opposition to social reforms.6 English education had produced not just reformers like Rammohan Roy and Dwarkanath Tagore but also equally powerful anti-reformers like Kashi Prasad Ghosh and Radhakant Deb. In 1832, the Select Committee of the House of Commons accepted that, in spite of a great demand by the natives for the introduction of English education, ‘the subject has not hither to met with consideration and encouragement from the government.’7 During 1827–1834, five important developments took place which directly undermined the power of the Orientalists who had hitherto controlled Indian education through a combination of tampering with evidence and misrepresentation of facts. The great reform movement in England which preceded the renewal of the Charter of the East India Company led to a detailed and exhaustive review of the Indian education system by the British Parliament. The arrival of William Bentinck, Charles Trevelyan, and Macaulay in Calcutta made it more difficult for the Orientalists. Finally, it was the departure of H.H. Wilson, the master manipulator among the Orientalists, to England, which weakened their position.

William Bentinck Bentinck, an outspoken critic of EIC, became the governor-general of India in 1827. He described the British rule in India as ‘cold, selfish and unfeeling; the iron hand of power on the one side, monopoly on the other.’8 He sought to protect Indians from the oppressive acts of British officers, openly supported ‘political liberty,’ and spoke against ‘selfish commercial prosperity.’ Though he was the brother-in-law of the British prime minister, his appointment as the governor-general of India was vetoed in 1822 and accepted in 1827 only because five other shortlisted candidates refused the position.9 As soon as Bentinck arrived in India, he astounded every one by doing away with the pomp and pageantry introduced by Wellesley and travelled alone, even without an escort. He also allowed Indians to directly approach him and to drive up to the government house in their own carriage, which had been forbidden since Wellesley’s time. Bentinck abolished corporal punishment for the native soldiers. He was also concerned with 150

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the establishment of the principle of equality of law in India and wanted a single code of law for the whole population, ‘black and white, native and European.’ Bentinck attacked high salaries of senior civil servants in India. The British army officials subjected Bentinck to much personal abuse.10 He was unpopular among most of the British officials in India and had little support in England. Bentinck increased the scope and responsibilities for Indians in government employment by proposing to appoint them to higher positions. This meant that Indians could compete with British officers on equal terms for positions in the EIC service.11 He was ably supported by a group of Scottish MPs, such as Joseph Hume, Charles and Robert Grant, the sons of Charles Grant, and T.B. Macaulay. Charles Grant, who had grown up in India, argued that ‘we should acknowledge the political existence of the natives, and it would be unjust . . . to forget the political existence of the natives.’12 Grant also insisted that there should be ‘nothing to prevent a native from becoming a member of the (governor-general’s) Council.’13 Macaulay, in his speech, argued that the British should not be allowed to ‘trample’ the native population and ‘the governor-general must therefore be enabled to restrict European privileges through legislation, overruling even the Supreme courts if necessary. He was also persistent upon the clause which removed ‘barriers to Indians from holding high offices.’14 The idea that an Indian could hold high offices and become a member of the governor-general’s Council, the highest legislative and executive body of British India, was in itself a revolutionary idea. The appointment of Indians to all positions of responsibility in the administration required a large body of Indians with fluency in English and an understanding of the workings of a modern administrative setup. This required a direct encouragement to modern education. Bentinck unequivocally opposed the Orientalists who believed that keeping Indians ignorant of modern education was in the best interest of the British in India: My entire dissent from the opinions of those who think it better that the natives remain in ignorance. I cannot recognise the advantage of ignorance to the governors or the governed. If our rule is bad, as I believe it to be, let the natives have the means, through knowledge, to represent their grievances and to obtain redress. . . . I approve therefore of every plan by which the human mind can be instructed and of course, elevated. . . . General education is my panacea for the regeneration of India.15 In addition to his strong support for modern education, Bentinck supported Indian social reformers. He extended state support to Rammohan Roy’s ­campaign against sati. The Orientalists, such as H.H. Wilson and H.T. Prinsep, openly supported sati.16 By abolishing sati, Bentinck antagonised the Orientalists. 151

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Charles Trevelyan in Calcutta Charles Trevelyan was born in 1807, the fourth son of nine children of George Trevelyan, a Cornish clergyman. ‘The family expected Charles the most promising one to lift the family out of hardship.’ He came to India in 1826 and was appointed as an assistant to the British resident at Delhi. Due to his youth, Edward Colebrooke, the British resident at Delhi, called him ‘a boy just escaped from school.’ However, Colebrooke’s mistake in evaluating his young assistant cost him dearly. Trevelyan’s ‘sense of public duty was perhaps his single most defining characteristic.’ He was a devout Christian but worked on Sundays also as ‘he felt that duty commanded it. He also vehemently opposed the government support to Missionaries.’17 Trevelyan was removed from Delhi because of two important reasons. First, in 1828, when he was appointed to the committee of the Delhi College, he introduced English as a course of study and personally mentored the students entering the English class. He even made arrangements for one of the students of the first batch to visit England. As a 21-year-old idealist, Trevelyan envisioned the idea that rich-poor, upper caste-lower caste, Hindu, and Muslim boys studying in the same class would ‘possibly become one people.’18 The Orientalists disliked it. Second, Trevelyan took on his corrupt but powerful boss, Edward Colebrooke, who was the son of the former chairman of the East India Company and the older brother of the Orientalist Henry Thomas Colebrooke. In spite of the hostility of Delhi’s European residents, Trevelyan saw the prosecution through to its conclusion and got Colebrooke suspended from the service in 1829.19After this, Trevelyan was called back to Calcutta. The Orientalists had not expected that his return would bring his battle into their own home – the GCPI. In the GCPI, Trevelyan clashed with the Orientalists on two issues. As one proficient in Sanskrit, he did not oppose teaching Sanskrit or Sanskrit literature in colleges. He supported the proposal of the Asiatic Society for the publication of Sanskrit and Arabic works.20 However, Trevelyan opposed the extreme Orientalists’ idea of devoting higher education exclusively to Sanskrit and Arabic to the utter neglect of Indian vernaculars. He supported the teaching of vernaculars at Haileybury College in England, which trained civil servants sent to India, while the Orientalist Wilson was opposed to it. Trevelyan also opposed John Tytler, who wanted to translate Western scientific works only into Arabic and not into any Indian vernaculars, thus making Arabic the medium of instruction in the proposed Calcutta Medical College.21 He was also the first to raise the issue of the educational backwardness of Assam and the northeast areas of British India and fought with the Orientalists to establish the first set of schools in Assam during 1834– 1835. When the Orientalists told him that the government did not have funds, he demanded a statement of actual expenditure for 100,000 rupees earmarked by the British Parliament and numerous endowments handed 152

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over by the people of India into the hands of GCPI.22 The Orientalists hated Trevelyan for his proactive behaviour and projected him as an enemy of Sanskrit language.

Appointment of Macaulay as Law Member Thomas Babington Macaulay’s father, Zachary Macaulay, came from an impoverished background in Scotland. At the age of 16 he became a book keeper on a Jamaican plantation, where he witnessed extremely inhuman treatment of African slaves by the Europeans. At the age of 22 he returned to England and joined the anti-slavery group in Clapham and became closely involved with the settlement of freed slaves in Sierra Leone.23 Thomas Babington Macaulay was born on 25 October 1800 and grew up with his eight siblings. Since Zachary was away most of the time in anti-slavery campaigns, Macaulay as the eldest son felt responsible for the care and well-being of his mother, five sisters, and three brothers – particularly, his two immediate sisters, who were in bad health. Zachary was very authoritarian; he refused to send Macaulay to a day school in London and packed him off to a private boarding-school at the age of 13. This forced separation from his siblings was traumatic. Added to this trauma were beatings and bullying from larger boys in the boarding-school.24 This private boarding-school was conducted by the ‘rigidly Evangelical Matthew Preston.’ Macaulay rebelled against the ‘evangelical’ atmosphere and developed ‘insensibility to the religious passion.’ Within three months of staying at the school, Macaulay in a debate attacked Christian crusaders for killing unarmed Muslims. He triumphantly wrote to his father that ‘it is a fact that the Crusaders put to death 70,000 Mahomedans in the streets of Jerusalem tho’ they implored mercy on their knees.’25 Throughout his life Macaulay abhorred religious passion and strongly advocated secular public space.26 He consciously maintained a distance from his father.27 Later, during his college days, he associated himself with secular and progressive groups. Zachary wrote to his wife, ‘I am quite shocked and pained that a son of mine should have linked himself with such associates.’28 At the personal level, the two childhood traumas of forcible separation from the family and bullying at school probably made him both extremely sensitive of familial ties and extremely hostile to his opponents.29 Even as an adult he ‘cried his eyes out’ while reading books or when separated from his sisters, while he lashed out at his adversaries in no uncertain terms.30 Throughout his busy public life, he eagerly awaited letters from his sisters and wrote to them regularly.31 He remained unmarried and devoted his personal life to his siblings. While in India, Macaulay vehemently opposed Trevelyan’s proposal to set up residential schools for Indian children. He told him that he would approve of institutions to keep children safe when parents were at work during the day but not the institutions that separated 153

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children from their parents. Macaulay argued that ‘the relation of parent and the child is the foundation of all society. . . . To substitute the schoolmaster for the mother as the guardian of an infant is not in my opinion a wise course.’32 When Trevelyan argued that the ‘corrupting influence of the zanana’ on the children could be avoided by establishing residential schools, Macaulay wrote: I would rather hear a boy of three years old lisp all the bad words in the language than he should have no feelings of family affection. The dissolution of the tie between parent and the child is a great moral evil. It is a misfortune to have a school master in place of a mother.33 When Trevelyan persisted, Macaulay threatened to handover funds earmarked for education to ‘a riding school’ rather than establish residential schools which separated Indian children from their families.34 Though Macaulay upheld family values, he did not hesitate to stand up for what he believed was right. He opposed his father’s religious ideas and on many issues refused to support his brother-in-law Trevelyan during his tenure in India.35 In school, Macaulay learnt Greek and Latin and acquired proficiency in both languages. Though he enjoyed Latin literature, he refused to attribute any intrinsic merit to the ancient languages. Later, as a member of Parliament, he argued that it was better for a civil servant about to be sent to India ‘to learn a tribal language than dead languages like Greek and Latin.’36 At the age of 18, he joined Cambridge and came under the influence of Thomas Paine’s Age of Reason. He shared the goals of secularism almost a generation before the word was coined. Macaulay argued that ‘morality should be based on the well-being of mankind in the present life, to the exclusion of all consideration drawn from belief in god.’ He also believed that ideally ‘education should concern the present or visible world as distinguished from the eternal or spiritual world.’37 When Macaulay met James Mill and his young friends in the London Debating Society, he was ‘struck by Puritanism and a taste for abstract theorising’ and called the Utilitarians men ‘whose attainments just suffice to elevate them from insignificance of dunce to the dignity of bores.’38 He considered James Mill his ‘old enemy’ even though Mill supported his appointment as a Law Member for India.39 The Utilitarian journal Westminister Review attacked the Edinburgh Review; Macaulay chose the latter in which to write his articles. In contrast, Macaulay considered Rammohan Roy a ‘remarkable man’ and in 1831 waited at a gathering in London until midnight to meet him but went away in despair.40 Macaulay had an inherent disdain for the rich and powerful. He stressed that ‘a historian should be wider in his sympathies and more curious 154

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about life as lived by ordinary men and women.’ He argued that the major changes which had taken place in the history of mankind had been ‘noiseless revolutions.’ The circumstances which have most influence on the happiness of mankind, the changes of manners and morals, the transition of communities from poverty to wealth, from ignorance to knowledge, from ferocity to humanity are for the most part noiseless revolutions. Their progress is rarely indicated by what historians are pleased to call important events. They are not achieved by armies, or earned by senates. They are sanctioned by no treaties, and recorded in no archives. They are carried on in every school, in every church, behind ten thousand counters, at ten thousand firesides. The upper current of society presents no certain criterion by which we can judge of the direction in which the under current flows. We read of defeats and victories. But we know that nations may be miserable amidst victories and prosperous amidst defeats. We read of the fall of wise ministers and of the rise of profligate favourites. But we must remember how small a proportion the good and evil affected by a single statesman can bear to the good or evil of a great social system.’41 Macaulay also argued that ‘the balance of moral and intellectual influence’ between the nations was ‘far more important than the balance of power.’42 Macaulay became a member of Parliament at the age of 30. Immediately, he supported Robert Grant who tabled A Bill to remove the disabilities suffered by Jews in Britain. Macaulay’s maiden speech was directed at giving equality to British Jews, who had no civil rights until then to enter educational institutions, hold offices, or contest elections. He fought against ‘intolerant and absurd restriction on Jews to hold public offices’ and ‘suggested making Jews into Englishmen and members of the community’ by giving them equal educational and employment opportunities. The Bill was defeated. Macaulay did not rest. He passionately wrote about it and ardently spoke on the Bill when it was reintroduced in 1833. Macaulay ‘rested his contentions on equality of civic status, the natural rights of native-born Englishmen and the inherent commonsense of the case as well as the plain fairness and justice of it.’ When the opponents argued that ‘the religious differences made the Jews unfit to be a legislator in a Christian country,’ Macaulay countered them by stating that the points of difference between Christianity and Judaism have very much to do with a man’s fitness to be a bishop or a rabbi, but they have no more to do with his fitness to be a magistrate, a legislator or a minister of finance than with his fitness to be a cobbler.43 155

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His contribution to obtain equality for Jews during 1830–1833 was unmatched by him or anyone else in its immediate impact. His hard-hitting argument enabled the Bill to be passed in the House of Commons, but it was defeated in the House of Lords.44 During the course of the debate, opponents asked if once you admit into the House of Commons people who deny the authority of the Gospels [will] you let in a Mussulman? Will you let in a Parsi? Will you let in a Hindoo, who worships a lump of stone with seven heads?45 Macaulay stood up for equal treatment of all human beings irrespective of religious beliefs and differences. He told Parliament that I am not a Roman Catholic; but if I were a judge at Malta, I should have no scruple about punishing a bigoted Protestant who should burn the Pope in effigy before the eyes of thousands of Roman Catholics. I am not a Mussulman; but if I were a judge in India, I should have no scruple about punishing a Christian who should pollute a mosque.46 He also argued for ‘a great and extensive reform in the whole system of our civil and criminal jurisprudence.’47 In 1832, the debate on the renewal of the EIC’s Charter began in the British parliament. Macaulay immediately took interest in it and began to familiarise himself with the happenings in India to prepare for the debate. He said of the British Empire in India, ‘the empire is itself the strangest of all political anomalies.’48 He expressed regret that the British Parliament paid less attention to events in India than to minor incidents in England.49 He took part in drafting the terms of the Charter Act of 1833. During the speech, he also urged for ‘judicial reforms in India to prevent the British officers from treating all the native population as pariahs.’50 In order to maintain impartiality and safeguard the interests of Indians, he saw to it that the newly created position of Law Member in the governor-general’s Council was not an employee of the East India Company. He inserted the equality clause which gave equal access to employment to Indians. The clause provided that ‘no person, by reason of his birth, creed, or colour, should be disqualified from holding any office in the service of the East India Company.’ He considered this his proudest achievement.51 His work for the Charter Act of 1833 made Macaulay irreplaceable. Macaulay was appointed Law Member to draft the Indian Penal Code. The main reason for accepting the position was economic distress. His large family had survived on his fellowship amount during his Cambridge days and later on his salary as an MP. Due to his vociferous opposition to the rich and powerful, his ‘political future was bleak,’ and he feared that he would 156

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not be re-elected.52 Macaulay hoped to stay for four years in India and save 50 per cent of his salary for his family, which at that time ‘felt so acutely the constant humiliation, and poverty.’53 Once he accepted the position of the first Law Member in the governorgeneral’s Council, he told his sister that ‘it was his “peculiar” charge to act as the guardian of the people of India against the European settlers,’ and he ‘warned her against choosing an English maid who would oppress their Indian servants.’54 Macaulay reached Madras on 10 June 1834 and drove to Nilgiri hills as governor-general Bentinck was recovering from ill health at Ooty. On his way, he noted the villages had ‘much on equality with the villages of Wales and Scotland.’ He noticed ‘the carving on timber over the doors of the houses’ and its taste and skill reminded him of ‘wood-work of some of our fine Gothic chapels and cathedrals.’ In Ooty, a hill station, ‘his bed was heaped with blankets,’ while all his servants who had accompanied him from Madras were coughing as they wore thin cloths suitable for hot and humid Madras. He immediately ‘bought them thick woollen cloths.’ After meeting Bentinck, he was asked to proceed to Calcutta and given a native Christian servant to accompany him. A day before he was to leave, the servant was accused of adultery and was to be arrested. Macaulay asked the local British officer to hold immediate trial. It was held throughout the night, conducted by an Indian Judge who declared him not guilty. Macaulay sat through the proceedings and ‘witnessed first hand the working of Indian judicial system.’ He was not convinced of the innocence of his servant and wrote that ‘it was a lesson how not to administer British justice in a remote Indian village.’ Next morning, Macaulay sent the servant in a palanquin to make arrangements before his own arrival. As the servant’s ‘palanquin moved out, Macaulay heard disturbance and looked out and saw his servant’s palanquin was mobbed by angry villagers. The servant had been pulled out, almost stripped naked, and was about to pull him to pieces.’ Macaulay rushed out of the house with a sword to defend his servant. He held the servant in his arms, where he fainted away. Macaulay commented that ‘like most of his countrymen, he is a chicken hearted fellow.’ The mob surrounded them with raised fists and refused to allow Macaulay to put his servant back into the palanquin. They were soon rescued by the guards of Bentinck’s house, which was close by.55 How do we analyse this episode? Should we just take his comment that Indians are ‘chicken hearted,’ call him racist, and ignore the rest of his activities? Shouldn’t one also look at the fact that the second most powerful man in British India took up sword to protect his low-caste servant? History should record both.

The educational debate, 1834–1835 Macaulay reached Calcutta in September 1834 and settled down to write the Indian Penal Code. As a Law Member, he automatically became a member 157

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of the GCPI; however, he showed no interest in the ongoing debates. He concentrated on reforming the Indian judicial system. Within six months of his arrival in Calcutta, Macaulay ‘drafted legislation to subject Europeans to the civil jurisdiction and limit their direct access to the Supreme Court in Calcutta to criminal cases.’ This was denounced by the Europeans as the ‘black act,’ and they pillared Macaulay with ‘their invectives.’ They asked the EIC authorities to call him back to Britain. Until Macaulay introduced this law, if the British had refused to return the money owed to Indians or beat them up, the injured party could appeal only to the Supreme Court in Calcutta. The distance and expenses were prohibitive. Many dishonest British officers misused this rule to silence Indians by threatening to sue them in the Supreme Court at Calcutta. Macaulay argued that ‘from what I have myself seen the dread with which natives regard the Supreme Court,’ the British should be brought to the same local jurisdiction as that of the natives.56 The British officers and civilians in India feared Macaulay’s insistence of legal equality would end their racial superiority. They continuously attached him through petitions and newspaper writings throughout his stay in India. So like Bentinck, Macaulay had very little support among the British both within India and in England. When Macaulay entered the education debate, Dwarakanath Tagore and the entire rank and file of reformers and the Orthodox Hindus and Muslims joined him to fight the Orientalists.57 Throughout 1834, the GCPI witnessed hostility between H.T. Prinsep and Trevelyan, who were at the extreme ends of the arguments. The Orientalists, such as J.C.C. Sutherland, W.H. Macnaughten, and James Prinsep, were very strong supporters of Prinsep. Support for Trevelyan came from Bushby, while Bird, Saunders, J.R. Colvin, and Henry Shakespeare preferred the limited introduction of modern education.58 Prinsep took uncompromising opposition to the introduction of Indian vernaculars, English, and modern sciences in any educational institution. Prinsep opposed the teaching of Hindi at Agra College and insisted that Arabic and Sanskrit alone constituted ‘the learning and literature of the country.’59 He also argued that the original endowment of Gangadhar Pandit was not for teaching Hindi, English, and modern sciences.60 Actually, the original endowment was for teaching Sanskrit alone and not Arabic, which Prinsep ignored conveniently. Prinsep opposed teaching English to Muslim students at Madrasa as he considered them low class.61 Shakespeare opposed Prinsep and supported ‘the right of Muslim population to the benefit of the college and to learn English.’62 Prinsep made the stopping of teaching of English at Calcutta Madrasa the condition for allowing the functioning of the GCPI.63 The GCPI came to a standstill. Colvin reported in his Minute that in enforcing a blanket ban on the introduction of English education, Prinsep stood alone.64

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Unable to bear the pressure, Henry Shakespeare resigned as the president of the GCPI in December 1834. In his letter to the government he stated that he was resigning in the hope that the government would induce Mr Macaulay to lend the aid of his talent to the cause of education by fitting the chair. . . . Macaulay, whose high literary attainments and his zeal for the dissemination of sciences are well known.65 Prinsep conveyed it to Macaulay.66 Macaulay became the president of the GCPI on 8 December 1834. Still, he did not enter the debate. At that time, his sister Hannah was in the process of getting married to Charles Trevelyan; the ceremony took place 23 December. The next day, Macaulay received the news that his favourite sister, Margaret, had died in England. Bentinck and his wife rushed to comfort him and found him so distraught that they begged Hannah and Trevelyan to cut short their honeymoon and return immediately.67 Macaulay was so depressed that he took no notice of the developments within the GCPI. In the meantime, a resolution drafted by George Alexander Bushby argued that it was ‘injustice to the people of India’ to withhold teaching English as ‘respectable knowledge of English is essential for public appointments.’ He also urged the governor-general to break his silence on this issue. Trevelyan ‘entirely conceded in the justice of the sentiments expressed by Bushby.’68 On the same day, Sutherland wrote to James Prinsep that the natives of Kota had established an English school and attributed it to ‘public employment.’ He opposed such measures by arguing that education was meant ‘for those who profess leisure.’ In the same letter he admitted that the English publications sold better than the Arabic translations of modern sciences.69 The following day, Sutherland revived Minto and Colebrooke’s 1812 proposal of establishing Sanskrit College at Nadia and argued that ‘the revival and improvement of the literature of the country’ was essential ‘to win the confidence of the educated and influential classes of the people.’70 On 26 January 1835, John Tytler, defending the Orientalist position, directly wrote to Macaulay. Tytler was an Arabic scholar like Prinsep, and they both promoted the introduction of modern sciences only through Arabic. Earlier in 1829, the GCPI decided that the ‘vernacular languages are not eligible to teach sciences . . . and sciences should be taught only in Sanskrit and Arabic.’ It ordered the translation of important books into Arabic and Sanskrit.71 Tytler opposed the use of Sanskrit to teach sciences and during 1829–1833 vigorously campaigned to make Arabic the sole language through which to teach sciences, including medicine.72 In 1833, Tytler insisted on teaching medical sciences through Arabic in all medical colleges across India. Trevelyan opposed it and had called it ‘absurd’ as ‘Arabic is nobody’s

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language. . . . If English is adopted as the medium of instruction – native doctors can become medium of communication between the European medical sciences and the natives.’ Trevelyan also stated that ‘there are not more than 300 persons proficient in Arabic language and Tytler, an assistant surgeon is the only person proficient to teach medical sciences in Arabic.’73 Now Tytler directly approached Macaulay. He defended his position of giving medical education to Indians through Arabic on the basis of the following points. First, the natives could acquire only ‘a mere smattering of English’ – not sufficient English to learn medical sciences; second, the vernaculars or as Tytler called ‘derivative language, cannot be understood clearly or used accurately without some knowledge of the language from which it has its origin. So ‘the highly cultivated parent language (like Arabic) should be used for scientific purposes.’ Finally, Tytler insisted that though ‘all Eastern Science contained falsehood,’ yet they should be taught.74 This shows that Tytler as an Orientalist had a very low opinion of Ayurveda. Macaulay in his reply countered Tytler: Our difference of opinion is quite fundamental. I do not conceive that discussion is likely to bring us nearer to each other. I deny every one of your premises without exception. . . . I deny that no derivative language can be well understood without a knowledge of the original language; the best and most idiomatic English has been written by men who knew neither Anglo-Saxon nor Norman French. . . . We must provide the people with something to say, before we trouble ourselves about the style which they say it in. Does it matter in what grammar a man talks nonsense?75 Macaulay argued that, ‘if the eastern sciences contained falsehood in the light of Copernican astronomy,’ why should they be taught? I am not convinced of this. I know that your Sanskrit and Arabic books do not sell. I know that the English books of the School Book Society do sell. I know that you cannot find a single person at your Colleges who will learn Sanskrit and Arabic without being paid for it. I know that students who learn English are willing to pay. I believe therefore that the native population if left to itself would prefer our mode of education to yours. At all events the onus probandi (burden of proof) lies upon you.76 Macaulay had at last entered the debate.

Macaulay’s Minute, 1835 Macaulay in his Minute of 2 February 1835 attempted to reply to the five important arguments put forth by the Orientalists. He began his defence of 160

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introducing English and modern science by drawing extensively from the arguments put forth by Rammohan Roy’s letter of 1823. First, he argued that the clause in the Charter Act of 1813 regarding ‘the improvement of literature and the encouragement of the learned natives of India and for the introduction and promotion of a knowledge of the sciences’ among Indians was not limited to ‘the sacred books of the Hindus’ but extended to ‘the poetry of Milton, the metaphysics of Locke, and the physics of Newton.’ Second, Macaulay accepted the evaluation of Oriental literature by Orientalists. He admitted that I have no knowledge of either Sanskrit or Arabic . . . 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 India and Arabia. The intrinsic superiority of the Western literature is indeed fully admitted by those members of the committee who support the oriental plan of education.77 This was not Macaulay’s opinion. He was actually quoting the opinions of the Orientalists. Macaulay, who had come to India only five months before writing this Minute, took the evaluation of Indian literature from the Orientalists who knew the languages well and had stayed over 20 to 30 years in India. Throughout this Minute, Macaulay summed up the Orientalist arguments to pertinently question the Orientalists’ opposition to modern education. In fact, Macaulay placed the Arabic and Sanskrit poetry very high in comparison with European poetry, while for H. T. Prinsep ‘the quality of literature of England was far superior to that of Arabic and Sanskrit.’78 This clearly shows that the Orientalists did not admire Arabic and Sanskrit literature but were using it only to prevent the spread of modern education in India. Macaulay further argued that ‘the sciences that are essential for human progress have developed in Europe’ mainly because ‘our ancestors did not behave like the GCPI, confining their attention to the old dialects of our own island, printing nothing and taught nothing at the universities but chronicles in Anglo-Saxon and romances in Norman French.’ He quoted the example of Russia’s attempt to modernise itself through Western European languages.79 Prinsep opposed it by stating that ‘Bacon, Locke and Newton could be taught to the Maulvis and Pundits through Arabic and Sanskrit.’ Prinsep also refuted Macaulay’s choice of teaching vernaculars along with English by stating that ‘vernacular dialects are not fit to be made the vehicle of instruction in sciences and literature.’80 By opposing Orientalist policy of limiting education to Brahmins, Macaulay was paving the way for all Indians irrespective of castes to have direct access to modern education. The third argument of the Orientalists was that ‘the native cooperation could be secured only by encouraging the study of Arabic and Sanskrit.’ 161

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Macaulay questioned this: ‘Why then is it necessary to pay people to learn Sanscrit and Arabic? While those who learn English are willing to pay us.’81 Prinsep countered Macaulay by arguing that ‘the study of English is nauseated because it requires to be paid for and is surely no proof of the violent desire for instruction in English which is inferred from it.’ Prinsep insisted that, ‘if any step be taken hastily and without a thorough comprehension of the subject,’ it would turn out to be ‘hateful and injurious to the mass of people.’ Macaulay quoted the Sanskrit scholar Radhakant Deb’s statement that ‘nobody in India studies Sanskrit profoundly without being paid to do so.’82 Macaulay stated that, if the government stopped paying to the students studying Arabic and Sanskrit, no one would enter these institutions. Lal Behari Day, who was a witness to these debates during 1835, also stated that ‘while Arabic and Sanskrit students had to be bribed to learn these languages, the doors of English schools were crowded with boys begging for admission.’83 This was due to two reasons: first, not all Muslims and Brahmins wanted to be priests and religious scholars; second, both the Hindus and Muslims had intellectual curiosity to learn new languages and new knowledge. So Macaulay concluded that the native society, left to itself, would prefer English and modern sciences. He also pointed out that twenty-three thousand volumes of Arabic and Sanskrit books which were printed at a cost of 60,000 lay unsold . . . the School Book Society is selling seven or eight thousand English volumes every year, and not only pays the expenses of printing but realise a profit of twenty per cent, on its outlay.84 If Hindus and Muslims had interest only in Arabic and Sanskrit, they would have bought these books and not English books. He also pointed out that the Orientalist had evaluated Arabic and Sanskrit literature as containing ‘false history, false astronomy and false medicine’ and asked why this should be encouraged if it was so.85 Fourth, Macaulay refuted ‘the perpetual argument by Orientalists’ that no native of India could ‘possibly attain more than a mere smattering of English.’ So it was a waste of state resources to educate Indians in English. Macaulay asserted that 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.86 162

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The aggressive stand taken by Macaulay was in reply to the aggressive stand taken by Prinsep during 1834–1835. Finally, Macaulay agreed with the Orientalists 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 tastes, 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.87 Macaulay’s argument of making Indians into English in taste, opinions, morals, and intellect was not a new idea, nor it was directed only against Indians. He had used similar arguments to make British Jews into Englishmen during the Jewish emancipation debate. When Macaulay suggested the creation of a body of natives with modern education who would act as interpreters, it was not a new idea. Macaulay regularly visited Vidyalaya and had witnessed how its students after completing their studies were returning to their villages and small towns to establish schools and how English-­educated Bengalis were translating modern knowledge and thought into Bengali. At that time in Bengal, the entire burden of modern education was on the shoulders of Indians, while the colonial state funded the Madrasa and Sanskrit Colleges. Petitions by hundreds of private schools across Bengal asking for governmental assistance either to repair the buildings or procure textbooks, globes, maps, or other teaching materials can be found in GCPI files.88 Many of them mention where the petitioner or the headmaster had studied, in most cases in the Vidyalaya or Hooghly College. In 1855, Bengal had 151 secondary schools and colleges with 13,163 children, and all of them were private schools.89As late as 1870, people remembered how ‘the alumni of the Hindu College established schools across the Presidency’ and how the Hindu College students had the zeal to disseminate the knowledge they acquired.’90 Macaulay recognised that ‘Benares is the great seat of Brahminical learning; Delhi of Arabic learning’ and supported them, but he recommended the closing down of the Madrasa and the Sanskrit College at Calcutta and the stopping of printing of Arabic and Sanskrit books. Trevelyan and Macaulay opposed exclusive Sanskrit Colleges which were open to only Brahmins, but not teaching Sanskrit in schools and colleges along with modern sciences which were open to all. Rammohan Roy’s Vidyalaya and Macaulay’s schools at Azamgarh and Farrukabad were the first institutions to enable 163

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non-Brahmins to learn Sanskrit. It was the Orientalists like Wilson and Prinsep who projected Trevelyan and Macaulay as anti-Sanskrit. Macaulay recommended giving better financial assistance to the Vidyalaya and the establishment of modern schools in all principal towns and cities.91 Bentinck gave ‘entire concurrence to the sentiments expressed in this Minute,’ and the funds earmarked for education ‘would be best employed on English education alone.’ However, he did not abolish the existing Arabic and Sanskrit colleges; rather, he opposed the scheme of providing scholarship in them. He ordered that they be ‘henceforth employed in imparting to the native population knowledge of science through the medium of the English language.’92 Even after the Bentinck Resolution the Orientalists continued to oppose Macaulay. Supporting Prinsep, Sutherland argued that ‘any further encouragement to English would give appearance of either coercion or of a political or religious design on the part of the government.’ He also stated that 400 students in two Sanskrit Colleges for a population of 54 million in Bengal Presidency was sufficient and there was no need for further expansion.93 He also argued that teaching English in Madrasa was ‘systematically directed towards the destruction of the literature and religious system of Islam.’94 Macnaughton, supporting Prinsep, argued that ‘English taught in Madrasa should be elementary, as it is chimerical to expect that English will ever become the language of India.’ He insisted that ‘the natives are proverbially tenacious of the usage of their forefathers,’ and the desire to learn English was on account of ‘love of lucre.’ He predicted that, when people realise that ‘no worldly benefit could be obtained from learning English, a violent reaction will take place and it will be as a general body abandoned.’95 His younger brother, James Prinsep, drew the attention of the GCPI to ‘the government policy of teaching exclusively influential class of Brahmins since the time of Lord Minto.’96 He, H.T. Prinsep, and Macnaughton resigned from the GCPI.97 Macaulay remained ‘unshaken’ but admitted that he had used harsh language in his Education Minute. Soon after passing Macaulay’s Minute, Bentinck left India. These are Bentinck’s last statements about India just before he retired from his post: Examine the whole scheme of this Indian system, and you will find the same result; poverty, inferiority, degradation in every shape. For all these evils, knowledge! knowledge! knowledge! is the universal cure.98 The Court of Directors opposed Macaulay’s Minute and placed ‘a strict prohibition of any further changes of policy without consulting them.’ John Stuart Mill opposed Bentinck’s resolution and supported teaching Arabic and Sanskrit.99 After the departure of Bentinck, Macaulay received support from Charles Metcalf, who was the acting governor-general. Macaulay

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supported Metcalf in defending the freedom of the press and abolishing the Censorship Act. Macaulay supported the submission of the draft proposal to the people of Calcutta and invited their comments and suggestions.100 This act was earlier imposed by governor-general Wellesley in 1799. Metcalf repealed the Censorship Act and freed the Indian press.101 For doing this Metcalf paid a very heavy price. He was not made the governor-general. The Court of Directors appointed Auckland, a very diplomatic but astute defender of elite privileges, as the governor-general to end the effects of Macaulay’s Minutes.

Further conflict between Macaulay and the Orientalists, 1835–1838 The conflict between Macaulay and the Orientalists did not end with the endorsing of the Minute by Bentinck; it continued throughout his stay. Ignoring opposition from the Orientalists, Macaulay added two Indian members, Sanskrit scholar Radhakant Deb and Russomoy Dutt, to the GCPI. They were members with full powers and could vote on resolutions. Macaulay expressed concern that there was no Muslim representation in the GCPI. He hoped that Muslims, too, would take up the cause of education.102 Though lacking any support from governor-general Auckland, Macaulay continued to challenge the Orientalists within the GCPI. The information regarding this is contained in various Educational Minutes of Macaulay. Henry Woodrow, the Educational Inspector in Bengal, first presented these Minutes before a combined audience of liberal British and Indians of the Bethune Society in 1851 and published them in 1862. Though he has thanked W. Gordon Young and W.S. Atkinson, Directors of Public Instruction, it is possible that they granted permission before knowing the content of these Minutes. Woodrow was asked to remove certain Minutes in the last stages of book production – pages 28 and 42 contained only the following text: ‘it has been considered desirable to omit the minute which originally occupied this space.’103 Since the Minute of 2 February 1835 is printed in its entirety, these omitted Minutes may not have been derogatory to Indians but might have had information that would damage the reputation of the powerful British officers. From these Minutes we know that Macaulay supported vernacular teaching in English schools and encouraged the employment of Indians in higher positions. Almost all these decisions were taken unilaterally with utter disregard for the opinions of the Orientalist members of the GCPI. These decisions, according to Macaulay, were essential as ‘we are attempting to introduce a great nation to knowledge of the richest and noblest literature in the world.’104 The decisions taken by Macaulay can be divided into the following categories.

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Rural education Macaulay was the first to talk of the educational backwardness of the rural hinterlands. Until then, the Orientalists had concentrated on establishing Arabic and Sanskrit colleges in urban centres, such as Calcutta, Banaras, Agra, and Delhi. Macaulay was the first to draw attention to the educational backwardness of Bihar and put up a proposal to establish a school in Patna.105 Within five months he established an Anglo-vernacular school in Patna.106 The first batch of students comprised 11 Brahmin, one Rajput, ten Khatri, 38 Kayasth, ten Bania, two Goala, two Kurmi, five native Christian, and 33 Muslims.107 During the next three years, he established Anglovernacular schools in Ajmer, Azamgarh, Bareli, Farukabad, Ghazipur, Gorakhpur, Jaunpur, and Jabalpur and raised the standard of existing local schools at Bhagalpur, Meerut, and Sagar.108 He unsuccessfully tried to establish schools in Dacca, Bhundelkhand, Chittagong, and Comillah.109 He argued that ‘our schools are nurseries of school-masters for the future generation.’ After the establishment of these schools, he suggested to the GCPI that a scheme for improving village schools was essential.110 He took keen interest in the appointment of teachers, purchases of books for the libraries, and evaluations of the essays written by students. When the number of students in Allahabad School doubled in seven months, he granted an additional sum of 30 rupees a month.111

Secularisation of schools Macaulay opposed teaching religion in schools and called Christian missions ‘proselytising establishments,’ and refused government support. He insisted that ‘we ought to observe strict religious neutrality.’112 He even opposed clergyman becoming members of the local committees of schools.113 He argued that both Hindus and Muslims should receive equal encouragement to take up modern education; otherwise, it would lead to ‘either class to monopolise the benefits of public instruction.’ When the Orientalists insisted on separate schools for Hindus and Muslims, he emphatically stated that ‘I do not at all like the plan of separating the Hindus from Muslims.’114 After facing opposition from Macaulay, the GCPI agreed to admit the Hindus and Muslims into the same schools but came up with a proposal to give ‘leave for Hindu boys on Hindu holidays and Muslim boys for Muslim holidays.’ Macaulay called it ‘ridiculous’ and questioned how a teacher could teach only half a class if the other half is on holiday. He decided to give ‘leave for both on both holidays.’115 He also insisted that ‘we mean to give education gratis however if there is a need to levy fees, European and native children should study in the same schools and pay same fee.’116

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Student-friendly decisions Macaulay took several decisions that affected the lives of students too. Though the candidates for the post of teachers were very scarce, he dismissed a British schoolmaster for beating a native boy.117 He opposed a master teaching a class of 124 and insisted that a master should not have more than 30 boys. He regretted that ‘we have not funds which will enable us to supply every thirty boys with a master.’118 He insisted that the school libraries ‘should purchase books that are enjoyed by students and not expensive journals which only principal and professors will use them. We must never forget that we are forming libraries not for the English professors, but for the native students.’119 Macaulay emphasised purchasing books which would ‘delight children.’ He rejected the list of books selected by the Orientalists for the school libraries, stating, ‘I do not like the list of books. Grammars of Rhetoric or Grammars of Logic are among the most useless furniture of a shelf. Give a boy Robinson Crusoe. That is worth all the grammars of rhetoric and logic in the world.’ He also insisted on introducing simpler versions of the history books which contained more knowledge than the famous ones.120 When the Orientalist members refused to heed his suggestion, he further argued that we should clearly take into consideration the question, what books are most likely to be attractive to young native students of English? From little fairy tales they may be led on to Robinson Crusoe and Gulliver’s Travels, and thence to Shakespeare and Milton.121 When the GCPI wanted to purchase books for prizes in schools and colleges, Macaulay opposed their selection. It is absolutely unintelligible to me why Pope’s works and my old friend Moor’s Lalla Rookh should be selected from the whole mass of English poetry to be prize books. – Bacon’s Essays, Hume’s England, Gibbon’s Rome, Arabian Nights . . . and many other delightful works which interest even the very young, and which do not lose their interest to the end of our lives. . . . A prize book ought to be a book which a boy receives with pleasure and turns over and over not as a task but spontaneously. I have not forgotten my own schoolboy feeling on this subject. My pleasure at obtaining a prize was greatly enhanced by the knowledge that my little library would receive a very agreeable addition.122

Access to schools When the Orientalist members of the GCPI could no longer prevent the establishment of Anglo-Vernacular schools by Macaulay, they tried to limit

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their access to an extremely small group of rich upper-caste boys under the age of 10. Macaulay fought at every stage to ensure access was given to all. The Orientalists opposed the admission of 15–16-year-old boys into the Anglo-vernacular schools. Macaulay countered their opposition: I cannot conceive why he should not be permitted to do so. . . . I do not very clearly see the reason for establishing a limit as to age. . . . I should be sorry to deny to any native of any age the facilities which our schools might afford to him for studying the English language.123 Pereira, headmaster of the Furruckabad School, wanted to exclude poor boys from joining the school. Macaulay opposed Pereira and insisted that ‘our schools should be open to all.’124 The local committee at Bhagalpore, consisting of British officials, decided to limit ‘boys of low parentage.’ Macaulay hit back: ‘I do not understand why the number of pupils of low caste parentage should be limited. . . . No such distinction ought to be tolerated in any school supported by us.’125 The Orientalists continued to enforce class restrictions on the students. They proposed to divide ‘the Banaras college classes into rich and poor.’ Once again Macaulay opposed them.126 Macaulay time and again challenged the notions of hierarchy upheld by the Orientalists and insisted that all children rich and poor, upper and lower caste should be treated equally within the classroom. He opposed the decision of the Delhi College to provide ‘chairs for boys of rank.’127 The all-European Agra School Committee seated the lone native Christian boy separately in the classroom. Macaulay opposed it by stating that ‘the general rule ought to be that all classes should be treated alike and should intermingle freely.’128 This lone native Christian boy was Balmokund, who along with Ram Dayal – a Sonar boy – and two Eurasian boys, Nicholas Patrick and Nicholas Pears, were in the top four positions in the class.129 Still the Agra College Committee recommended 14 Brahmin students for various positions in the administration.130 In 1837, Balmokund won the best prize for his essay. Again the Agra College Committee refused to give the prize because of his low birth and awarded it to the second-prize winner. Macaulay opposed it and called Balmokund’s essay better than the other two essays.131 Balmokund’s essay ‘On the Advantages of Education’ clearly demonstrated both hope and persecution. Balmokund wrote that ‘Diocletian was the son of a slave and yet assumed the sceptre of the whole Roman world by the help of a civil and military education; he was very prudent prince and his reign was illustrious in every respect.’ However, he was also critical of Diocletian’s persecution of Christians. For Balmokund, ‘all persecution is tyranny and most of all for liberty of thought.’132 Commenting on the essay, Macaulay called the behaviour of the Agra College Committee ‘too much in the style of Diocletian who is reprehended very 168

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justly, by Balmokund.’ Macaulay not only opposed caste discrimination but also managed to get Balmokund a job as a librarian. Barkley Duncan, the secretary to the College Committee, opposed it by arguing that the aim should be ‘to extend the popularity of the institution among the better class of natives.’ However, the headmaster Wollarstone and Duncan were forced to obey Macaulay.133 The Orientalist’s desire to promote only Brahmins and the landed gentry often came in conflict with Macaulay’s desire to uphold the common man.

Encouragement to vernacular teaching Within five days of his famous Minute on education, Macaulay accepted William Adam’s proposal to study the indigenous schools of Bengal and Bihar in order to formulate a policy on vernacular schools.134 The Orientalists opposed both Adam’s proposal and Macaulay’s encouragement to the study of vernacular in the newly established Anglo-vernacular schools. Macaulay, on his part, explained I stress on the teaching of vernacular in our English schools . . . in fact their knowing how to read and write their mother tongue will, very greatly facilitate their English studies. Indeed I conceive that an order to give instruction in the English language is, by necessary implication, an order to give instruction, where that instruction is required, in the vernacular language. For what is meant by teaching a boy a foreign language? Surely this, the teaching him what words in the foreign language correspond to certain words in his own vernacular language, the enabling him to translate from the foreign language into his own vernacular language and vice versa. We learn one language – our mother tongue-by noticing the ­correspondence between words and things. But all the languages which we ­afterwards study, we learn by noticing the ­correspondence between the words in those languages and the words in our own mother tongue. Teaching the boys at Ajmer therefore to read and write Hindee ­language seems to me to be bona fide a part of an English education.135 He even promised ‘I would willingly grant all the rent that is saved at the Allahabad school to the Hindi department.’136 Prinsep opposed Macaulay’s ideas on vernacular education and argued that the Indian vernaculars were not fit to be taught in schools.137 Macaulay ridiculed ‘the GCPI members for not knowing the vernaculars’ and ‘hoped that in twenty years time thousands of natives would translate European knowledge into vernacular.’138 Macaulay opposed the divide between the educated English and the rest. He argued that ‘we mean these youths to be conductors of knowledge to the 169

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people, and it is of no use to fill the conductors with knowledge at one end, if you separate them from the people at the other end.’ So the students in English schools should ‘know their vernacular well.’139

Opposition to ostentation The Orientalists, on the one hand, argued that the government lacked funds to appoint more schoolmasters or purchase books while continuing to provide funds to Banaras, Agra, and Delhi Colleges for improving ‘the taste.’ Macaulay opposed this by arguing that ‘plain school-rooms and good schoolmasters, an unadorned compound and a well-furnished library, are what in the present state of our funds, I should most wish to see.’140 Macaulay also resisted ‘procuring things needed for the schools from England when similar things could be purchased in India at a much lesser price.’141 Macaulay was against giving medals to students for their performances. He argued that, ‘if you give the student the medal he has nothing but the honour. If you give him a certificate and the price of the medal, he has the honour and the hundred rupees into the bargain.’142

Support to teachers Macaulay supervised the appointment of teachers and argued that ‘good salary for teachers is essential–I would give 120 rupees a month. It is desirable not merely to keep good masters, but to prevent them from being always on the look-out for better situations.’ He was distressed by lack of suitable candidates.143 Macaulay always looked into the day-to-day problems of schools and teachers, which was so crucial for the survival of early schools. In spite of the difficulty in finding schoolmasters, he was very strict with their conduct. He dismissed a schoolmaster for proselytising activities.144 In 1837, the English master of the Bhagalpur School resigned as he could not get a suitable building for the proposed school and a house for his stay on rent. Macaulay immediately ordered the building of a schoolhouse with rooms for the master. He earmarked 50,000 rupees for similar cases that may arise in future.145 In the same Minute he opposed the Orientalist scheme of appointing the brightest students of the schools as assistants under ‘pupilteachership’ to save money: It will either stop the progress of the best students or provide lower classes bad masters . . . if the best are selected, their education is at an end. Just imagine what would be the effect in England of selecting all the best scholars of a public school, at the time when they would be leaving school for the university making them ushers, and condemning them to pass their time in teaching ‘musa musae’ and ‘amo, amas, amat’ to the boys of the lowest form. No system could 170

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be devised more certain to stunt the minds of boys at the very time of life at which their minds might be expected to develop themselves most rapidly. Appoint additional teachers than to divert the attention of the most intelligent young men in the college from their own studies.146 Macaulay left India in 1838 after completing the Indian Penal Code. The code was not adopted until 1860. The Indian Penal Code brought Hindus, Muslims, and Europeans under a single law. Macaulay’s desire to establish an Anglo-vernacular school at Dacca was fulfilled when an Englishman by the name Robert Milford bequeathed a legacy to the people of Dacca. A public meeting was held on 11 June 1838. The meeting was led by Ramlochan Gose, Khaji Aleemollah, Jebun Kepen Roy, Robert Dowett, Mirza Golam Peer, and Mohamad Akmul Cawn. They drafted ‘a petition in Bengali and English signed by 1400 people . . . proposed to pay chowkidari tax of the place to maintain the school.’ They wanted the petition to be sent to the Court of Directors in London.147 Earlier, Macaulay had fought unsuccessfully for the establishment of this school. It was unlikely that H.T. Prinsep forwarded it, as it is not available in the Board Collections. What happened at the ground level also took place at the higher level. A British India Society was established in 1839 by Henry Peter Brougham, a liberal British MP. A public meeting was held in the same year in ­London which was attended by Nawaub Eckbaloodowlah, Prince of Awadh; Prince Jamal-ood-Deen, son of Tippoo Sultan; Meer Afzul Ali and Meer ­Kurreem Ali, agents of the Rajah of Sattara; Ichangheer Nowrojee, ­ Hirjeebhoy Merwanjee, and Dorabjee Muncherjee of Bombay; and several British ­ ­officers who had earlier served in India. They urged for government support to modern education.148

An estimate of Macaulay Macaulay has been extensively criticised for his harsh language and cultural disdain shown to Indians. There are two important aspects that need to be examined. First, was Macaulay particularly contemptuous towards Indians and Indian culture and not towards anything European? Second, how much of Indian history was known in 1835? To address the first issue, Macaulay’s Education Minute was no different from any of his other writings – his historical essays, articles in journals, book reviews, and speeches in the Parliament. William Thomas has aptly called Macaulay’s writings ‘literary commando raids.’149 His writing always contained ‘biting and caustic criticism.’ He spared no one. Macaulay’s most ‘contemptuous and vituperative reviews’ were reserved for John Wilson Croker, a man of influence and a relative of Edmund Burke.150 Most of the writings on Macaulay ignore these writings and other Education Minutes and emphasise his Minute of 2 February 1835. 171

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Second, in 1835 very little of India’s past was known. Most of the inscriptions, including Asokan inscriptions, had not been deciphered. Vedas and Upanishads had not been translated. Hence, the history of the ancient India was virtually unknown. Only the Dharmasastras, which uphold caste hierarchy and infant marriage, had been translated and used extensively by the colonial state as legal texts to dispense justice, and the Orientalists had passed off the Puranas as the authentic history of the Hindus. Macaulay openly stated that he took the Orientalist’s evaluation of Indian literature as he did not know any Indian language. So Macaulay’s disdain was not towards the Vedic and Upanishadic tradition or the mighty empires or the cultural and literary achievements of ancient India; rather, it was towards what the Orientalists had projected as Indian culture. Historian Robert Frykenberg has dismissed the criticism of Macaulay’s Minute. According to him, every schoolboy and schoolgirl in India, figuratively speaking, is taught the myth of Macaulay’s Minute. . . . According to this myth, attitudes of lofty condescension towards India’s peoples and their inferior cultures, combined with practical needs for a cheap labour force to supply the manpower requirements of an enormous bureaucratic machine, prompted alien rulers to impose English language educational system upon the subcontinent and, thereby, to neglect and stifle the natural growth of indigenous educational institutions. Moreover, in its more extreme forms, this myth assumes that these rulers were also either racially arrogant or willfully ignorant, or both. Finally, this myth assumes that the disastrous consequences of this ‘colonialist’ fiat were a major factor inhibiting the progress and well-being of a large proportion of India’s peoples.151 According to another historian, P.R. Ghosh, Macaulay represents a critical moment of transition as a direct inheritor of the Enlightenment legacy; as a beneficiary of the further expansive influence of literary Romanticism; and as the great representative English historian of his day, who was committed to ‘political science’ and ‘Whig’ history. In this strictly historiographical context, he is a figure of unexpected complexity and uncommon significance.152 The legal historian C.D. Dharkar has argued that Macaulay found a people apathetic and inarticulate. He wanted to help them, by giving them better education, better laws formed into a uniform system, and better courts maintaining the spirit of those laws. He wanted to make corruption impossible, to get rid of privilege and to establish in India the principle that all are equal in the eyes of the law. This was an ambitious plan for a single man to achieve during a short term of office. . . . But Macaulay did his best.153 172

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An estimate of Macaulay by Surendranath Banerjea Surendranath Banerjea was the tallest political leader of nineteenth-century Bengal and one of the founders of the Indian National Congress. He was the first Indian leader to face arrest by the British as early as 1883 for defending the sacredness of Hindu idols.154 He was the first to introduce the ideas of the Italian revolutionary Mazzini as early as early as 1876.155 He was also the first political leader to advocate passive resistance and boycott and the first to be arrested during the Swadeshi Movement (1905–1909).156 So Banerjea was an uncompromising champion of Indian culture and Indian freedom. Surendranath Banerjea was invited on 1 June 1878 to deliver a lecture on the occasion of the thirty-fifth death anniversary of David Hare, a close associate of Rammohan Roy and founder of several schools in Calcutta. Banerjea chose to speak on Macaulay and Indian education: Zachary Macaulay, the father of Thomas Babington Macaulay had helped to emancipate the Negro slaves, to enfranchise them from physical bondage, to give them that liberty which is the undoubted birthright of every human being. But the bondage which his son was called upon to remove was a far more galling and oppressive in its character. It was the bondage of ancient prejudices, hoary with age and consecrated by time; it was the bondage of immemorial customs, handed down from father to son, through long vistas of rolling years; it was the bondage of intellectual error, the gloom of deep moral darkness.157 Banerjea stated that Macaulay had rendered a service to Indians even before he landed on the shores of India by framing a section on equal employment opportunity to all Indians in the Charter Act of 1833. The section, 87, clearly stated that ‘no native of India shall by reason only of his religion, place of birth, descent, colour, or any of them be disabled from holding any place, office or employment under the said company.’ Banerjea admitted that ‘we cannot easily forget his unjust strictures upon our national character; but we cannot also forget that Macaulay was the first to uphold equality and the right of every person irrespective of religion, place of birth, descent, colour, or any of them be disabled from holding any place, office or employment. . . . I repeat, then, we should forget the faults and prejudices of the essayist in the recollection of the memorable services he has rendered to the country.’158 Macaulay’s contributions to Indian education have not been recognised. He was the first to oppose corporal punishment in schools and dismiss a British teacher for beating an Indian boy. He was the first to fix a 30:1 student-teacher ratio. He was the first to talk of secular and inclusive 173

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classrooms and defend the right of the poor and the lower castes for equal access to education. He was also the first to defend the intellectual capabilities of an untouchable boy and provide him with government employment. He was the first to talk of good salaries to teachers and fixed them at ten times more than what the government was willing to pay. And the irony is that Macaulay is the first to be condemned in any writing on Indian education!

Notes 1 Woodrow, Macaulay’s Minutes on Education, Minutes 3 July 1836, 41, and 25 November 1836, 41–43. 2 GCPIC vol. 7, Correspondence between Tytler and H. T. Prinsep. 3 Sharp, Educational Records, Note by H.T. Prinsep, 15 February 1835, 117–129. 4 Report of the Board of Education, 1850, Minute by J. Willoughby, 12 January 1850, 134–192. 5 Spear, ‘Bentinck and Education,’ 70. 6 Majumdar, First Fruits of Education, 98. 7 Report of the Select Committee on the Affairs of the East India Company, 1833, 25. 8 Hawes, Poor Relations, 142. 9 Bearce, ‘Lord William Bentinck,’ 234–246. 10 Marshall, British Society in India, 90–104. Rosselli, Lord William Bentinck, 130, 207. 11 Seed, ‘Lord William Bentinck,’ 67. 12 Ehrlich, The Crisis of Liberal Reform in India, 2029. 13 Speech by Charles Grant on East India Bill, House of Commons Hansard, 15 July 1833, Vol. 19, 662. Joseph Hume even opposed giving the East India Company a charter for ruling India for 20 years. He proposed that it should be reduced to 10 years. Ibid, 619. 14 Ehrlich, The Crisis of Liberal Reform in India, 2030. 15 Bentinck’s, Minute 1 June 1834, quoted in Frykenberg, ‘The Myth of English as a “Colonialist” Imposition upon India,’ 313. 16 Kopf, British Orientalism, 275. 17 Prior, Brennan and Haines, ‘Bad Language,’ 78–79. GCPIC, Vol. 4, Minute by Trevelyan, 13 June 1833. For his opposition to missionary teachers see Minute by Trevelyan, 13 June 1833, GCPIC, Vol 4. 18 Fisher, ‘Mohan Lal Kashmiri,’ 232–242. 19 Prior et al., ‘Bad Language,’ 75. 20 Sirkin and Sirkin, ‘The Battle of Indian Education,’ 419. 21 GCPIC, Vol 3, Minute by Trevelyan, N.D. (written between 8 June-6 July 1833). 22 GCPIC, Vol. 58, Jenkins to Trevelyan 10 May 1834, Trevelyan to GCPI 10 July 1834. 23 Thomas, The Quarrel of Macaulay and Croker, 60–64. 24 Sullivan, Macaulay, 23. 25 Macaulay to his father, 23 March 1813, Pinney, The Letters of Thomas Babington Macaulay Vol. I, 23. 26 As a member of Parliament, Macaulay criticised the supporters of missionaries ‘who gives cheap tracts instead of blankets to the starving peasantry,’ Pinney, The Letters, Vol. II, 156.

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27 Pinney, The Letters, vol. I, Macaulay to his father 10 April 1815, 60. 28 Ibid, 187. 29 See Macaulay’s letters with detailed footnotes in Pinney, The Letters of Thomas Babington Macaulay Vol I-VI. 30 Schuyler, ‘Macaulay and His History,’ 164. He called the Lord Chancellor, ‘profligate, unprincipled scoundrel,’ he was extremely unkind to Scottish kings and people. His sharp tongue invited criticism from one and all. 31 Pinney, The Letters of Thomas Babington Macaulay vol. II, 147, 189. Others told him that ‘you are sacrificed to your family,’ Pinney, Ibid, vol. III, 6. 32 Woodrow, Macaulay’s Minutes on Education, 31 July 1837, 46. 33 Ibid, 10 August 1837, 47. 34 Ibid. 35 Woodrow, Macaulay’s Minutes on Education, 30 January 1836, 56. 36 Sullivan, Macaulay, 109. 37 Ibid, 51. 38 Thomas, The Quarrel of Macaulay, 84–85. 39 Pinney, The Letters, vol. II, 329. 40 Zastoupil, Rammohan Roy, 2. 41 Thomas, ‘The Quarrel of Macaulay,’ 213. 42 Ibid, 214. 43 Finestein, ‘A Modern Examination of Macaulay’s Case for the Civil Emancipation of the Jews,’ 39–59. 44 Ibid. 45 Ibid. 46 Abrahams and Levy, eds., Essay and Speech on Jewish Disabilities by Lord Macaulay, 46–52, Speech by Macaulay on Jewish Disabilities Bill, in the House of Commons. 47 Pinney, Macaulay, Vol II, 103–104, Letter to the Leeds Association, 5 October 1831. 48 A Speech by T.B. Macaulay on the East India Bill in the House of Commons on 10 July 1833, 20. 49 Cutts, ‘The Background of Macaulay’s Minute,’ 829. 50 Masani, Macaulay, 124. 51 Hall, ‘Macaulay’s Nation,’ 515. 52 Pinney, The Letters, vol. II, Letter to Nancy, 17 August 1833, 300. 53 Ibid, Letter to Hannah, 2 November 1833, 331. 54 Sullivan, Tragedy of Power, 112, Masani, Macaulay, 52. 55 Pinney, The Letters vol. III, Letter to Margaret, 3 October 1834. 56 Masani, Macaulay, 123–128. 57 Mayhew, The Education of India, 17. 58 Board Collections, No. 77634, Minute by Shakespeare, 18 August 1834. 59 GCPI Proceedings, Vol. II, H.T. Prinsep’s amendment to Proceedings regarding the Agra College, 11 April 1834. 60 Board Collections, No. 77634, Minute by H.T. Prinsep, 28 April 1834. 61 Ibid, Minute by Prinsep, 15 August 1834. 62 Ibid, Minute by Shakespeare, 18 August 1834. 63 Ibid, Note by H.T. Prinsep, 9 July 1834, Note by Shakespeare 10 July 1834. 64 Ibid, Minute by J.R. Colvin, 14 August 1834. 65 Board Collections, No. 81568 (no date), December 1834. 66 Ibid, Prinsep to Macaulay, 8 December 1834. 67 Masani, Macaulay, 88. 68 Board Collections, No. 77634, GCPI Resolution, 21 January 1835.

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69 Ibid, Sutherland to James Prinsep, 21 January 1835 (Arabic translation of Hooper’s Anatomists Vademecum, Hutton’s Mathematics Vol I, Crocker’s Land Surveying, Hooper’s Physician Vademecum, Bridge’s Algebra, and Sanskrit translation of Hooper’s Anatomists Vademecum). 70 Ibid, Sutherland to Prinsep, 22 January 1835. 71 GCPIC, Vol. 7, GCPI to William Bentinck, 14 February 1829. 72 Ibid, see numerous correspondence between Tytler and H.H. Wilson. 73 GCPIC, Vol. 2, Minutes by Trevelyan, 8 June and 13 June 1833. 74 Tytler to Macaulay, 26 January 1835, Sirkin and Sirkin, ‘The Battle of Indian Education,’ 422–423. 75 Ibid, Macaulay to Tytler, 28 January 1835. 76 Ibid. 77 Board Collections, No. 77633, Minute by Thomas Babington Macaulay, 2 February 1835. Italics added. 78 Ibid, Note by H.T. Prensep, 15 February 1835. 79 Ibid, Minute by Macaulay, 2 February 1835. 80 Ibid, Note by H.T. Prensep, 15 February 1835. 81 Ibid, Minute by Macaulay, 2 February 1835. 82 Ibid, ‘Radha Cant Deb assured me that to the best of belief there not, even at Banaras, a single student of the higher Sanskrit learning who is not paid.’ 83 Day, Recollections of Duff, 55. 84 Board Collections, No. 77633, Minute by Macaulay, 2 February 1835. 85 Ibid. 86 Ibid. 87 Ibid. 88 GCPIC, Vol. 58, contains numerous petitions; the one by Brij Mohan Haldar of a school at Bahala village has highest signatures of 704 in Bengali, English, and Urdu. 89 Report of the Indian Education Commission, 1882, 36. 90 Education, 1 January 1870, 1–10 A, ‘A Full Report of the Public meeting on Education and Road Cess question, convened by the British Indian Association, 2 September 1868.’ 91 Minute by Macaulay, 2 February 1835. 92 Board Collections, No. 77633, Bentinck’s Resolution, 7 March 1835, Public letter from India 30 September 1835. 93 Board Collections, No. 77634, Sutherland to Prinsep, 3 March 1835. 94 Ibid, Prinsep to Mahommedan Petitioners, 9 March 1835. 95 Ibid, Minute by Macnaghton, 24 March 1835. 96 Ibid, Minute by James Prinsep, 30 April 1835. 97 Ibid, 20 May 1835. 98 Bearce, ‘Lord William Bentinck,’ 236. 99 Legislative despatch to India, 14 April 1836, Despatches to the government of India and Bengal, No. 8., 741–744, quoted in Ballhatchet, ‘The Home Government and Bentinck’s Educational Policy,’ 225–226. 100 Pinney, The Letters, vol. III, Letter to Calcutta Petitioners, 12 March 1835, 124. 101 Liberty of Press Act No. XL of 1835, passed on 3 August 1835, Theobald, The Legislative Acts, 7–10. 102 Pinney, The Letters, vol. III, Macaulay to Bentinck, 27 February 1835, 137. 103 Henry Woodrow, Macaulay’s Minutes on Education, 28, 42. 104 Ibid, 10 May 1837, 35. 105 GCPIC, Vol. 2, Minute by Macaulay, 25 March 1835.

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106 Woodrow, Macaulay’s Minutes on Education, 29 August 1835, and 2 December 1835, 25–28. 107 GCPIC, Vol. 19, Samuel Davis, Secretary to Patna School to Sutherland, 13 November 1835. 108 Woodrow, Macaulay’s Minutes on Education, Minutes, 26 February 1836, 24 March 1837, 2 August 1837, 53–55. 109 Ibid, Minutes by Macaulay, 21 June 1836, 18 March 1837, 25 August 1837, 58–61. 110 Ibid, Minutes by Macaulay, 28 September 1836, 12. 111 Ibid, Minutes by Macaulay, 26 March 1835, 12. 112 Ibid, Minutes by Macaulay, 26 February 1835, 18, undated Minute, 29. 113 Ibid, Minutes by Macaulay, 15 August 1835, 26. 114 Ibid, Minutes by Macaulay, 7 August 1835, 24. 115 Ibid, Minutes by Macaulay, 30 January 1837, 36. 116 Ibid, Minutes by Macaulay, 28 July 1836, 40. 117 Ibid, Minutes by Macaulay, 9 May 1836, 40. 118 Ibid, Minutes by Macaulay, 6 October 1835, 16 and 18 November 1835, 27. 119 Ibid, Minutes by Macaulay, 4 May 1837, 102. 120 Ibid, Minutes by Macaulay, 6 May 1835, 74. 121 Ibid, Minutes by Macaulay, 3 June 1835, 75. 122 Ibid, Minutes by Macaulay, 21 December 1836, 82. 123 Ibid, Minutes by Macaulay, 1 July 1835, 3 November 1835, 23–24. 124 Ibid, Minutes by Macaulay, 23 November 1836, 43. 125 Ibid, Minutes by Macaulay, 11 February 1836, 54. 126 Ibid, Minutes by Macaulay, 28 December 1837, 65. 127 Ibid, Minutes by Macaulay, 7 May 1836, 68. 128 Ibid, Minutes by Macaulay, 25 November 1836, 66. 129 GCPIC Barkley Duncan to the College Committee, 28 September 1836. The list of students comprised 2 Eurasians, 11 Muslims (3 Syed, 5 Sheik, 3 Pathan), 63 Hindus (20 Brahmin, 9 Bengali, 16 Kayasth, 3 Khatri, 9 Bania, 3 Dhusar, 2 Rajput, 1 Sonar), and one native Christian. 130 GCPIC, 22 February 1837, Vol. 11, List of Those Considered for Employment. 131 Woodrow, Macaulay’s Minutes on Education, Minute 31 March 1837, 67. There were three boys by the name Balmokund at Agra College during 1830– 1838. Balmokund from Mandarbagh was a Bania, Balmokund from Anupsher was a Brahmin who became a Hindi teacher at Agra College in 1839, and Balmokund from Agra was a native Christian and the author of the essay. 132 GCPIC, Vol. 11, On the Advantages of Education, Balmokund, January 1837. 133 Ibid, Barkley Duncan to GCPI, 8 March 1837. 134 Pinney, The Letters, vol III, letter to Bentinck, 7 February 1835. 135 Woodrow, Macaulay’s Minutes on Education, Minute by Macaulay, 3 July 1836, 41. 136 Ibid, Minute by Macaulay, 8 May 1837, 62. 137 GCPIC, Vol. 4, Minute by H. T. Prinsep, 8 July 1836. 138 Woodrow, Macaulay’s Minutes on Education, Minute, 30 August 1836, 44. 139 Ibid, Minute by Macaulay, 30 December 1836, 51. 140 Ibid, Minute by Macaulay, 24 August 1835, 13. 141 Ibid, Minute by Macaulay, 19 October 1835, 80. 142 Ibid, Minute by Macaulay, 2 July 1836, 42. 143 Ibid, Minutes by Macaulay, 24 April 1837, and 26 August 1837, 90–102. 144 Ibid, Minute by Macaulay, 28 December 1836, 89. 145 Ibid, Minute by Macaulay, 24 May 1837, 55.

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46 Ibid, Minute by Macaulay, 28 January 1837, 103. 1 147 GCPIC, Vol. 4, petition accompanying Robert Dowett’s letter to H.T. Prinsep, 3 July 1838. 148 See Speeches Delivered at a Public Meeting for the Formation of a British India Society, London, British India Society, 1839. 149 Thomas, The Quarrel of Macaulay and Croker, 298. 150 Schuyler, ‘Macaulay and His History,’ 163. 151 Frykenberg, ‘The Myth of English,’ 305. 152 Ghosh ‘Macaulay and the Heritage of the Enlightenment,’ 359. 153 Dharkar, ed., Lord Macaulay’s Legislative Minutes, 167. 154 Banerjee, ‘The Growth of the Press in Bengal,’ 46. 155 Fasana, ‘Deshabhakt,’ 42–44. 156 Ray, Social Conflict and Political Unrest, 153–154. 157 Speeches and Writings of Surendranath Banearjea, 92–93. 158 Ibid, 94–95.

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8 UNDERMINING MACAULAY Post-Macaulayan educational developments, 1839–1850

If these gentlemen (Macaulay, Trevelyan and others) who wish to educate the natives of India were to succeed to the utmost extent of their desire, we should not remain in this country three months . . . no intelligent people would submit to our government. – Governor-general Ellenborough1

The destruction of Macaulayan educational policy There were five important aspects of Macaulay’s educational policy. First, Anglo-vernacular or English and vernacular teaching schools should be established in as many towns as possible. Second, the schools should be inclusive, open to all. Children from various castes, classes, and religions should sit together and intermingle in the classrooms. Indian and European students should study in the same classrooms. There should be one teacher for every 30 students. Third, schools should have good libraries and curriculum should be student-centric, not teacher-centric. Fourth, bright students should be allowed to pursue higher education and not be appointed as schoolteachers. Finally, there should be no religious teaching in the schools, and curriculum should be secular. Governor-general Auckland set out to undo all of this as soon as Macaulay left Indian shores. Within a month of Macaulay’s departure, Trotter, the secretary to the local committee of the Patna School, complained that the school was ‘too far for the committee to travel and supervise.’ He immediately removed ‘the English teacher and introduced the monitorial system.’2 This meant that the standard of the curriculum was brought down from that of a high school to lower than that of an indigenous school. A popular English school at Chitpore which was in existence for over twenty years was shut down.3 This shows the urgency with which the opponents of Macaulay set into motion the process of destroying the education system introduced by him.

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The twin ideals of human equality and modern education as a solution for all problems, propounded by Macaulay and the British liberals, and the colonial state agenda of reinforcing and strengthening the existing social stratification were mutually contradictory. Macaulay called himself ‘an agent of the public,’4 aimed to equip Indians with skills and competence required for modern administration and to compete with the British. This alarmed the British elites who considered Indians as their inferiors and did not want to share power with them. The colonial state had based its educational model on pre-colonial Arabic and Sanskrit schools and introduced the prejudice of the English ‘class’ system into them; Macaulay’s model was based on pre-colonial vernacular schools of Bengal, where a Brahmin boy studied with an untouchable Chandal boy in the same classroom. In Macaulay’s schools, people found no inconvenience of any kind; Christian, Muslim and Hindu boys of every shade of colour and variety of descent maybe seen standing side by side in the same class engaged in the common pursuit of English literature, contending for the same honours, and forced to acknowledge the existence of superior merit in their comrades of the lowest as well as the highest caste. This is a great point gained. The artificial institution of caste cannot long survive the period when the youth of India, instead of being trained to observe it, shall be led by the daily habit of their lives to disregard it. All we have to do is to bring them together . . . they will become one people, and the process of enlightening our subjects will proceed simultaneously with that of uniting them among themselves.5 Macaulay and Trevelyan’s idea of uniting people of diverse backgrounds through English education and the colonial state’s idea of keeping people divided and neatly fitting them into structures of hierarchy clashed in these classrooms. An even more threatening aspect was that the English-educated Indians were reading radical European literature, particularly the works of Thomas Paine. His works had influenced the American War of Independence. They were so popular in Calcutta in the 1830s that booksellers could demand a price five times higher. Thomas Paine’s abolitionism, anti-monarchical views, and advocacy of equal rights found an echo in Derozio’s writings and teaching.6 The sight of the students of Vidyalaya buying up a sizable portion of Thomas Paine’s Age of Reason when it reached the shores of Calcutta7 unnerved most of the British officials. To the British, an English-educated Hindu believed that ‘kings, priests, and laws and creeds, are but tools, which cunning knaves employ to govern fools.’8 Even before Macaulay came to India, radical European thought and literature had begun to influence

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English-educated Indians. Drummond’s school had taught the Scottish radical ideas of David Hume. Rammohan Roy had admired the revolutionary ideas of France. These ideas were not limited to a few intellectuals but were widespread, and in Calcutta some unknown people had hoisted ‘the tri colour flag of the French Revolution’ in 1830.9 Rosinka Chaudhury states that, in the 1830s, more books were printed in Calcutta than anywhere else except London. The American War of Independence, the French Revolution, and the writings of Thomas Paine ‘had created a republic of intellectuals like Rammohan and Derozio who were moved by an ideological upheaval that dreamt of nothing less than the regeneration of the human race.’10 In 1827, in his poem titled ‘Freedom to the Slave,’ Derozio wrote ‘oh Freedom! There is something dear, / E’en in thy very name.’ Next year he wrote the first patriotic poem of modern India.11 As we can see, the spread of English education was a threat to the British rule, and the colonial state set out to destroy the Macaulayan school system with such vengeance.

Minute by Auckland, 1839 As soon as Macaulay left India in 1838, the government of India began to systematically dismantle his educational ideas. Governor-general Auckland used some of the arguments espoused by Macaulay and Prinsep to achieve opposite results. In his 37-page Education Minute, Auckland stated that ‘the best means of promoting education amongst natives of India . . . calls for calm consideration and a combined effort.’ He used Macaulay’s argument against ‘the stipendiary system’ to limit the number of scholarships in the Madrasas and Sanskrit Colleges to ‘respectable classes of the community.’12 He used Prinsep’s argument of ‘the insufficiency of the funds’ to limit the expenditure on education.13 For Rammohan Roy, the introduction of modern education was essential for India’s economic development and social reform, and for Macaulay it was essential to equip Indians to compete with the British. Both of them stood for equal access to all sections of society. By shifting the onus of debate from access and empowerment to mere funds, Auckland successfully prevented the government from committing to an expansion of both classical and modern education. Auckland rejected Adam’s scheme of village schools linked to district schools, which would enable bright children in villages to pursue higher education. He concluded that ‘the time has not arrived and it will do little for the advancement of a people.’ He directed ‘the GCPI to render high institution efficient,’14 which meant that they should continue to support the Madrasas and Sanskrit Colleges. Auckland asserted that the government had ‘zeal for progress’ and acknowledged the presence of several British officials and Indians who were ‘impatient for the introduction in India of

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every plan which has been adopted with success in European countries.’ He warned them: We are dealing with poor people, to the vast majority of whom the means of livelihood is a much more pressing object than facilities for any better description or a wider range of study. Our hold over this people is very imperfect, . . . where even the mind of our able pupil has been very greatly informed and enlightened, the knowledge gained by him may seem to produce no adequately corresponding result in the afterlife. The student may stand alone in the family or society of which he forms a part. These can very generally have few feelings in common with him, and he may be unhappy and discontented in his peculiar position . . . he will be overconfident in his own powers and unreasonable in his expectations . . . they may overestimate their own pretensions, and decline to accept the subordinate situations which alone it may at first be thought right to entrust them.15 Auckland pointed out that ‘the first step must be to diffuse wider information and better sentiments among the upper and middle classes.’16 He asserted that ‘we must not entertain sanguine or premature hope of general success of the poor.’ After arguing the non-feasibility of teaching the poor, he verbatim repeated the Orientalist arguments: The primary object of the government is to extend education to those who have leisure for advanced study, . . . by raising the standard of instruction among these classes we would eventually produce a much greater and more beneficial change in the ideas and feelings of the community than we can hope to produce by acting directly on the more numerous class . . . than the present application of it (grants) to the training of a promiscuous crowd of English smatterers.17 Auckland successfully shifted the debate of English vs Arabic and Sanskrit to the education of lower vs upper classes, thereby avoiding an extensive introduction of either English education or more funds to the existing Arabic and Sanskrit colleges. After determining who should be educated, he went on to explain that he supported modern education through English as the medium of instruction for the ‘higher classes,’ but at the same time he acknowledged that ‘the wealthy and the higher classes of India do not send their sons to public schools and colleges.’18 So in the ultimate analysis, English education should be limited to the ‘higher classes,’ and since they do not normally send their sons to schools, there was no need for modern institutions. It was not Macaulay’s Minute but Auckland’s Minute which 182

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explained the government opinion in multiple voices that laid the foundation of the British educational policy. British officials regarded Auckland’s Minute as ‘an authoritative pronouncement of the educational policy of the government and all subsequent reforms and improvements up to 1854 were carried out in accordance with this policy.’19 The Court of Directors endorsed Auckland’s Minute. They told the government of India that ‘it is our firm conviction, to support the literature of the Muhammadans and Hindoos, and we authorise you to give such further encouragement as you may think desirable.’20 However, this decision was probably not unanimous, as W.B. Bayley, Francis Warden, and W.H. Sykes, three of the 24 directors who were known supporters of modern education, must have dissented. So the despatch towards the end contains a couple of sentences on giving ‘a fair trial’ to modern education.

Bengal Presidency William Adam in his elaborate reports had proposed for the establishment of vernacular village schools in Bengal. The GCPI condemned it. In 1841, a British officer named Norton established a school at Atrowlie and sought government assistance; he was refused because of ‘limited means.’21 The GCPI was abolished towards the end of 1841, and a Council of Education was constituted in its place in January 1842. An inspector of schools and colleges was appointed for Bengal, Bihar, Orissa, and Assam in 1844.22 These structural changes did not affect policy matters. The government insisted on improving the existing indigenous vernacular schools by giving some inducement to the teachers to teach history and geography in addition to Bengali or Hindi and arithmetic. Auckland even offered government appointments for those who studied in these ‘government Pathasalas’ and declared that ‘the first ambition of our students will, no doubt, be that of gaining through these schools admission to official appointments.’23 To popularise the government Pathasalas, the Board of Education asked J. Ireland, the inspector of colleges and schools in Bengal, to ‘encourage . . . the attendance of the children of respectable parents.’24 This was not possible even in colleges. Most of the Muslim students studying in Hooghly College and other institutions, such as Chittagong school and Dacca College, survived on scholarship.25 On 10 October 1844, governor-general Hardinge passed a Government of India Resolution which asked all educational institutions ‘to periodically submit list of students of merit, capacity, references to age, ability and other circumstances.’ The resolution ‘directed the Council of Education to receive this list and recommend them to fill up the vacancies.’26 The list of 53 distinguished students attached to the resolution shows that 18 were employed in the administration as writers, munsiffs, and deputy magistrates, and 13 of them worked as teachers.27 183

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The Court of Directors did not endorse Hardinge’s Resolution. They argued that the appointments to public office required not ‘high scholastic knowledge’ but only a moderate knowledge of English, with a thorough command of the vernacular language and testimonials of regularity, steadiness, diligence, and good conduct. . . . But we would not even insist throughout India on even a moderate acquaintance with the English language.28 The government of India agreed with the Court of Directors that ‘high scholastic knowledge does not constitute an essential qualification for the public service.’ It argued that there is ‘universal desire for government employment’ and the object of the resolution of 10 October 1844 was to declare the determination of the government that those whose intellect had been developed and moral sense improved by a judicious course of education should be considered eligible for situations of trust and responsibility.29 At the same time, it admitted that ‘very few candidates from any of the colleges came forward’ seeking appointments. The few who came forward were ‘half interested youth with imperfect education.’30 This shows that the meritorious students passing out of schools and colleges were not interested in government appointments. By 1853, this government of India resolution was ‘a dead letter.’31 On 18 December 1844, governor-general Hardinge introduced 101 ‘village schools.’ These schools were located not in villages but in ‘principal towns of each district.’ The 17 schools in Bhagalpur division comprised three each at Tirhut, Bhagalpur, Munger, Purneah, and Dinajpur and two in Malda.32 Hardinge insisted that all boys who may come for instruction to these schools should be compelled to pay a monthly sum, and also be charged the full value of books supplied to them from the public stores. The necessity for payment tends to induce more respectable classes to send their children to the government schools which would otherwise be attended by those of the lowest orders.33 These schools retained the indigenous curriculum of Bengali or Hindi and arithmetic and added geography and the histories of India and England.34 The government also hoped that ‘the more opulent natives of each district might be very usefully stimulated to establish and place under the control of 184

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the officers of government, vernacular schools such as we are now proposed, at their own expense.’35 These schools were unpopular. Similar instruction, except history and geography, was available to people in indigenous schools. In 1846, the Collector of Rajshahi district reported his experience in Natore, The native gentlemen informed me that the institution was useless. They expressed deep regret that government should support vernacular schools which they do not want, and withhold English which they stand so much in need. In the town of Natore, I visited a native pathsala held in a most indifferent shed. It was taught by a Byragee – mendicant, who received no salary, and did not desire the pay of the government. My stopping at the pathsala attracted a crowd; and when they learnt the object of my enquiry, they at once expressed ridicule for the government institution, whilst they were lavish in the praises of their own. They said that they did not want the government to teach them their own language and without the assistance of government, instruction in English was unattainable.36 In the same year the commissioner of Dacca reported, ‘I am confident that, except in rare circumstances, the schools as at present constituted, will not succeed . . . the desire to learn English is strong and unmistakable all over the country.’ He suggested to the government ‘let English go hand in hand with Bengali.’37 The government was not willing to pay attention to such feedback from British officials. Parents refused to send their children to these schools. All of these 101 schools had to be closed down within five years due to lack of students.38 In 1853, the government of Bengal officially admitted that its policies ‘failed to produce the effects anticipated.’ At the same time it declared that the indigenous schools ‘are universally in a very low and unsatisfactory condition’ and that its teachers were ‘very unfit.’39 This meant that Indians did not know the difference between the quality education given by the government and the low-quality education given by unfit teachers in the indigenous schools. It decided to convert them into ‘model schools’ and make ‘permanent improvement in the existing indigenous schools.’ It recommended the adoption of the Hulkabandi system, like that of the NWP. It also stated that the Sanskrit College act as ‘a sort of Normal School for Bengal.’40 The government expected that Sanskrit students who had put in on average 12 years of studying Sanskrit texts would be willing to end up as Bengali schoolteachers in government Pathsalas. It also meant that all posts of government school teachers in the future would be reserved for Brahmins alone. The post-Macaulayan educational policy was a grand failure. Natives refused to cooperate with the government. When discussions for the renewal of the Charter of the EIC began in 1851, the government of Bengal did not have a 185

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single modern institution to show as an achievement. Therefore, it decided to take over a collegiate section of the Vidyalaya – the Hindu College – and make it into the Presidency College. It called the Sanskrit College and the junior department of the Vidyalaya ‘the modified Hindoo College.’41 In Bengal, the government did not have any English schools, but in Bihar there were four English schools. The Bhagalpur school had 59 Hindu, three Muslim, and one Christian student; the Arra school had 26 Hindu, four Muslim, and three Christian students. When the GCPI ‘directed that more attention be paid to the vernacular languages,’ the strength of the Chapra school decreased from 44 to 33.42 The Patna school, which was personally established by Macaulay, survived in spite of serious attempts to remodel it into an indigenous school due to the interventions of Charles Hay Cameron, the President of the Board of Education. The Patna school was very advanced, and it was called a college. In 1845, Hardinge decided to introduce a fee. The effect was sudden and dramatic. The college had 100 students when it was closed for Dussera vacation. When it was reopened after ten days with a compulsory monthly fee of 1 rupee per boy, the strength fell to 30. By the end of the year the number rose to 38. They comprised nine Christian, seven Bengalis, 17 Bihari Hindus, and five Muslims. All of them were sons of subordinate functionaries of the local administration.43 In 1855, R.B. Chapman was appointed as the inspector of education to Bihar. He visited hundreds of villages and towns and virtually forced the people to establish ‘indigenous schools.’ Chapman admitted that ‘the people in Bihar doubted and disliked our educational plan as all ignorant people do and called the Inspector’s office as sheiton ka daftar khana – the devil’s counting house.’44 Chapman accepted that the people thought it a ‘government order’ – sarkar ka hukum, but he argued that he told them it was ap ki khushi – ‘your wish.’45 Chapman stated that ‘there is no trouble in inducing the people to send their children to English schools, however, impressing upon their mind to send their sons to indigenous schools was difficult.’46 This clearly shows that the people of Bihar opposed the government-sponsored indigenous schools and not English schools.

Abolition of Macaulay’s schools in NWP In April 1843, the control and management of educational institutions in the NWP were transferred to the newly constituted government at Agra. This way the government could insulate the region from dissenting influences in Bengal. The NWP was a large area of 31 districts, stretching from Ajmer to Gorakhpur, with nine government high schools.47 The NWP government decided that ‘the study of English should be chiefly confined to the colleges of Banaras, Agra and Delhi’ because ‘the boys, who attend our institutions, and especially our provincial schools, are seldom the children of men of independent property.’48 The lieutenant-governor of NWP, George Clerk, 186

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decided to ‘avail himself of this opportunity to place on record his views on this important branch of domestic policy.’ The Native Gentry in these provinces . . . neither send their sons for education, nor do they themselves take the slightest interest in their existence, yet do they seek, through other means, to give to their children the best education they can afford. The schools at Jaunpur and Gorakhpur are not worth the cost of their maintenance and the latter to be in a condition which should at once be put an end to.49 Clerk suggested the remodelling the Ajmer school into a Madrasa by appointing the teachers belonging to the Madrasa of the Ajmer Darga: The government school or college, is filled or supplied, not from the middle class of the native society, but from a lower rank, and from the hangers-on of our public offices, the inferior shopkeepers, the children of our burkundaz, and of individuals with whom the respectable classes do not desire their children to associate.50 Clerk acknowledged that ‘people do desire to learn, there is no backwardness in any class or in any sect to acquire learning or to have their children taught.’ But he called the government schools ‘visionary, and useless expenditure of the resources of the government.’ Instead, he suggested that the government should develop ‘a system of registration of native schools. By bringing these schools into connection with the government, we shall obtain a most powerful engine by which to act upon the minds of the population at large, and which might be made effectual for their moral as well as their intellectual advancement.’51 Clerk argued that ‘hostile invasions and other political causes had driven away the old and wealthy inhabitants of Agra province before it came into our hands.’52 So there was no need for retaining the existing schools. Clerk was the lieutenant-governor only for a period of six months but managed to give a decisive direction to the educational policies of the NWP. His successor, James Thomason, who administered the province for the next ten years, laid a firm foundation for the elite educational policy. Clerk and Thomason together abolished the schools established by Macaulay. They were ably supported by governor-generals Ellenborough and Hardinge, who combined an aristocratic distaste for popular education with the conviction that the British Empire represented the highest possible form of government for India.53

Ajmer School The Ajmer school was established in 1836. It had a British headmaster and a Hindi and an Urdu teacher. It had 171 boys, among whom only one paid the 187

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fee. Clerk called ‘the performance of pupils as unsatisfactory’and attempted to remodel the school on the lines of ‘the Madrasa of the Ajmer Darga’ and by drawing Hindu ‘teachers teaching a dozen or half a dozen little ragged boys in all the simplicity of the primitive Hindu system, and thereby making their daily bread.’ The people of Ajmer opposed it. Clerk accepted that the government school was closed at Ajmer in 1843 ‘not because there was no desire for education amongst the community, but because they would not resort to a school which was not in unison with their feelings.’54 Thomason, who succeeded Clerk as the lieutenant-governor, visited Ajmer in 1850 and found that the town already had an English school maintained by one Lalla Binduram. Many influential persons of the town requested Thomason to restart the government school, and the school was revived in 1851 with the strict instruction that students ought to pay a monthly fee of 4 annas to 1 rupee.55

Azamgarh School The Azamgarh school was the next Macaulay school to be closed down. In 1841, this school had 223 boys, which included 183 studying English and vernacular and 37 Sanskrit students. With ‘such success,’ the GCPI increased the salary of the headmaster by 50 rupees and provided for an additional master with a salary of 150 rupees.56 Two years later, when the school came under the administration of the NWP, its lieutenant-governor, G.R. Clerk, declared the school a failure and decided to close it down. He ordered a ‘few students and the teacher (most probably those in the Sanskrit class) be transferred to Banaras College and building and furniture should be made over to any party who might be willing to continue the school as a private institution.’ Finally, the building and furniture were handed over to the Church Missionary Society.57

Allahabad School The Allahabad school had two British and three Indian masters. After Macaulay left India, the headmaster reported that ‘the youth who joined Allahabad school had no idea that it was expected of them to learn the English language, they left the seminary in disgust.’ This was in direct contrast to the reality. In 1842, it had 106 boys comprising seven Christian, 80 Hindu, and 19 Muslim boys. They studied the histories of England and Greece, geography, natural philosophy, Euclid, trigonometry, algebra to ratios and proportions, and general arithmetic. In English poetry they had read parts of Milton, Pope, Shakespeare, Johnson, and Goldsmith, and they had read Bacon’s Essays.58 By 1846 the strength had gone up to 154, and of them 108 students paid a fee, while 26 did not. In the highest class, four

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boys received prizes for their performances in the annual examinations. Two of them, Thakur Prasad and Abdoollah Khan, were senior scholarship holders. Their ‘performances were regarded as praiseworthy, and their scholarships were extended for another year.’59 A successful school such as this was abolished in October 1846. The headmaster was sent to Agra, and the two masters were sent to Sagar and Bareilly. The governor of NWP, Thomason, complained of ‘the great cost of its maintenance’ and explained that ‘Allahabad is not a city where, from its commercial importance or the character of the native inhabitants, any success is to be expected for a school, such as that now existing.’60 When the Allahabad school was abolished as a government institution, ‘the private individuals took up the school and continued its operation.’61

Farrukabad School This school was established by Macaulay in 1836 and had 15 Muslim and 70 Hindu boys. They studied Persian, Sanskrit, Hindi, English, histories of India and England, arithmetic, the geography of Asia and Europe, geometry, and natural philosophy. The government stated that the time spent at the school by such boys was now almost wholly wasted, while it might be made of great advantage to them is devoted to the study of their own language in translations from European works of general knowledge. Greater interest would be felt by the natives in the study of the vernaculars if forms of common revenue and judicial proceedings were introduced as class books.62 This school, along with a subordinate school in Futtehghar, was closed down in 1847 because ‘the advantages arising from it were not commensurate with the expenses which it involved.’ The British headmaster, Fink, and the native master, Narain Doss, were transferred to Agra College.63

Gazipur School This school was established by Macaulay in 1836. In 1843, it had 196 boys, comprising ten Christians, 44 Muslims, and 142 Hindus. The daily average attendance was 136, and all were free students. It had three British and two native masters. They were headmaster H. D. Fowles, E. Roberts, C. Dubordierux, Abdul Ali, and Pundit Ramjeshan. The students studied ‘Russell’s Modern Europe, Pope’s Homer’s Iliad, Richardson’s selections from the British poets, McCulloch’s Grammar, English, Histories of India, Greece and Rome, Geography and the use of Terrestrial Globe, Arithmetic,

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Algebra, Euclid, Trigonometry and Mechanics.’ The government admitted that the students were so enthusiastic about reading that the boys took books from the library to read them at home. Among the scholars, who have left the institution those who are employed in the neighbourhood are accustomed to resort to the library to keep up their knowledge. These men are said to be uniformly well thought of by the gentlemen under whom they serve.64 The government did not like such a positive report. It deputed ‘H. C. Tucker a gentleman who was well known to have devoted much attention, both in theory and practice, to the subject of education to report on the working of schools.’ Tucker agreed to give Junior Scholarship to Mote Lall Mokerji and Radhika Prasad Nag, but reported that ‘little use is made of the library, none of the boys being able to read with sufficient facility. Much money is wasted in large, expensive class books.’65 The next year, an admission fee of 2 rupees was introduced, and, The boys were considered by the examiners as to read remarkably well; their writing was very good, and their spelling correct. Translation from English to vernacular and vice versa was free but generally correct. Well grounded in history and geography, deficient in arithmetic and algebra.66 Juggernath Pershad and Debunarayun Ghose were awarded Junior Scholarship. Fearing its closure, the headmaster reported that ‘the parents of boys can be considered as affluent.’67 But the following year, the government found that all 128 boys were free students.68 In 1849, the government declared that ‘the progress of the school is not considered satisfactory’ and closed it down. The headmaster was sent to Banaras College, and other teachers were sent to Bareilly school and Banaras College. The books of the library were transferred to Banaras College. Funds subscribed by private individuals were returned to them.69

Gorakhpur School As soon as G.R. Clerk became governor, he proposed that the school ‘should at once be put an end to.’ Gorakhpur school was established in 1835, and it had an English headmaster, W. H. Bachman, and two native masters, Jemaluddin and Mendee Hussyn. The school had 73 students, of whom four were Christian, 20 Muslim, and 35 Hindu. All of them were free students. They studied English, Urdu, the histories of India and Rome,

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and geography. The government sent Tucker to evaluate the school. He reported that the master Jemaluddin can translate English literatim, but not idiomatically to give the scope of the whole sentence. The boys have no idea of the differences between the English and Hindoostanee idioms. They also have the bad habit of scribbling the meaning of the words in their class books.70 The British master was transferred to Banaras, and the school was closed down.71

Jubbulpore School This school was established in 1837, and in 1848 it had two British and four native masters and strength of 154 boys who attended classes regularly. Of them, 81 Hindu and 13 Muslim boys studied in English, 115 boys studied in Hindi, and 43 studied in Urdu.72 In spite of the success of the school, the government stated that ‘the English department, neither appreciated nor indeed wanted, by the people of the district.’73 The local committee, comprising British officials, reported that ‘the result of the examination is unsatisfactory. The present condition of the institution is far from vigorous, and no great improvement could reasonably anticipate.’ Thomason stated that ‘it had long been my own opinion that schools constituted like those of Jubbolpur and Sagar were seldom of great benefit.’ The school was closed down, and Thoamson proposed to utilise the funds of the school to establish a Madrassa. The British headmaster was transferred to Banaras, and the Indian teachers were dismissed with a gratuity of six months’ pay. The school building was ordered to be sold by auction for the benefit of the education fund.74

Meerut School This school was established in the 1820s and Macaulay had made it into a government high school in 1835. It had two British masters, ­headmaster J.W. Fallon and second master W. Molesworth, and one native master, Mahomed Hoosein. In 1843 there were five Christian, 14 Muslim, and 43 Hindu boys studying English, Urdu, mathematics, sciences, history, and geography. The government found ‘the working of the school as unsatisfactory.’ It informed the school ‘that their salaries would cease from the first of October.’ The headmaster was transferred to Delhi College, and their other British master, Molesworth was considered unfit for the post. It was decided by the committee to hand over the building, library, and furniture to any private party

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which might continue the school at its expenses. At that time, the people of Muzaffarnagar had established an English school and requested the government to give books. Several books from the Meerut school were given to them.75

Sagar School In 1835, Macaulay adopted Krishna Rao’s school, enlarged it, and made it into a government institution. It had a British headmaster, James Rae, and one assistant master, J.T. Wilcox; six Hindi and one Urdu master; and two librarians.76 In 1843, it had a strength of 215 boys, consisting of one Christian, 25 Muslim, and 189 Hindu boys. All the boys were free students. They studied English, Hindi, Persian, and Urdu. Of them, one Christian, four Muslims, and 34 Hindus studied English; 18 Muslim and 142 Hindus studied Hindi; and three Muslim and 13 Hindus studied Urdu. All those who studied English also studied Persian.77 When the government decided to close down the school, a local committee comprising of British officials of the town decided to maintain it as a private school. Still, Thomason wanted to enforce a monthly payment by all students. It was opposed by the local committee.78 But Thomason was adamant, and the next year compulsory fee was introduced, but only 39 boys could afford to pay it. Thomason insisted that at least all those boys studying English should pay a monthly fee.79 Because of Thomason’s directive, the strength of the school came down from 215 to 39.

Bareli School Bareli school was established by Macaulay in 1837, and at the time of the contemplation of its abolition in 1843–44, it had three British and two native masters and a librarian. All its 160 students were free students. Of them, 122 were Hindu, 36 Muslim, and two native Christian. They studied English, Urdu, and modern subjects like ‘Mechanics, Astronomy, Hydrostatics First and Second Book of Euclid, Algebra as far as a simple equation, Arithmetic, and Logarithms; Histories of England, and India, Geography and use globes for teaching.’80 In English literature they studied ‘Milton’s Paradise Lost, Shakespeare’s Hamlet, and Macbeth, selections from Thomson’s Seasons; Bacon’s essays, Reigns of Tudors and Stuarts from Hume, Taylor’s India, reign of Justinian and the Caliphs from Gibbon; Selections from Smith’s Wealth of Nations and Selections from McCullock; Smith’s moral sentiments, Paley’s Natural Theology, Natural Philosophy, Webster’s Hydrostatics; mechanical Euclid, Brinkley’s Astronomy, Selections from Young’s Lectures and chapters on eclipses.’81 Though students performed very well in the examination, and a boy named Gungaprasad was selected

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as a junior scholar, the governor felt the ‘majority of scholars are children of poorer classes, to whom knowledge of their language is much more important than that of a foreign one’ and decided ‘not to make all boys study English.’82 Thomason decided that the school would continue only if the fee were introduced. The Nawab of Rampur donated 500 rupees, and an equal amount was collected by the local people to build a museum and a room for the school.83 In February 1848, a tuition fee of 3 rupees per boy was introduced. This did not bring down strength. Instead, the strength went up to 191. Still, the government reported that it faced ‘difficulty in making the institution popular amongst a people, who are proud and exclusive in their feelings, and who possess no great degree of mental activity.’84 The only school to survive the post-Macaulayan purge in the NWP was the Bareli school. By abolishing nine out of ten schools established by Macaulay, the government virtually disqualified the entire province from entering higher education. It also prevented the rise of an educated middle class and subsequent social reform and economic transformation in the NWP.

The Hulkabandi, or circle school system In June 1845, Thomason argued that ‘the people of Hindustan are essentially an agricultural people; anything that concerns their land immediately rivets their attention and excites their interest.’ So he proposed to co-opt the existing indigenous school masters and argued that ‘the village schoolmaster will be as recognised a servant of the community, as any other of the servants whose remuneration is now borne amongst the authorised village charges.’ He suggested that ‘these schoolmasters may be encouraged by kindly notice and by occasional rewards to the most deserving of themselves or their scholars. They may be aided by the distribution of printed and lithographed books.’85 This was virtually a verbatim reproduction of the 1814 Education Minute of Hastings. Thomason called his scheme the ‘Hulkabandi system.’ Hulqs, or circles, were made up of an average of five villages. Thomason stated that ‘whenever a zamindar and majority of the respectable inhabitants in any village containing 200 houses and permanently to endow it with a jageer for his schoolmaster containing not less than five acres of land,’ they could communicate that to the collector. He further insisted that the nomination of a school-master shall rest with the zamindar and principal residents of the village, but no person shall be appointed school-master unless he fully understands and is able to explain and give instruction in Ram Surun Doss’s four elementary books, in both Urdu and Hindi.86

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The Court of Directors supported Thomason’s scheme but suggested that village schoolmasters be paid by the government. Thomason opposed this because it was difficult to make numerous petty disbursements in remote parts of the district. It would teach the schoolmasters to look upon themselves as servants of the government and not of the village, and they would be viewed less cordially and earn distrust by the people. Finally, the Government schools unduly supersede and discourage voluntary contribution.87 The Court of Directors insisted on looking upon schoolmasters as government servants. So the Hulkabandi schoolmasters came to be paid by the government. The average monthly pay of schoolmasters was from 3 rupees and 8 annas to 4 rupees and 8 annas. These Hulkabandi schools were started in only eight of the 31 districts.88 These schools cost the government 6 to 7 rupees a month and were maintained by levying a 1 per cent cess over the land revenue. The government made a great show of this system and called it ‘a great plan of national education.’89 The standard of education in these government schools was so low that the boys who studied in these schools could not enter the high schools or get any jobs. They were taught Prem Sagar, Subha Bilas, the Ramayan of Tulsidas, and a Hindi translation of Marshman’s History of India. This curriculum remained until Fitzedward Hall, the Sanskrit professor of Banaras College, opposed it in 1855. Attempts were made to improve the curriculum, yet in 1858 Inspector of Schools Ralf Griffith reported ‘the very low standard of scholarship in the 76 Hulkabandi schools of Banaras division. Out of the 695 boys who completed education, 472 were able only to read and knew a smattering of arithmetic and multiplication tables.’90 The people hated these schools as they were made to pay for them, that too for such low standards.91 The government, too, admitted that ‘the intention of the establishment of circular schools was not to educate masses.’92 Moreover, in the western part of the NWP, the landholding was small, and Thomason admitted that ‘the average holding of each proprietor was less than 15 acres.’93 So an education cess was burdensome for these peasants. There were also a few good Hulkabandi schools. Imdad Ali, the Tahsildar of Kosi in Mathura district, took a personal interest in nurturing the schools under his jurisdiction. The Kosi Schools taught reading and writing of the Nagari character, Arithmetic, Algebra, Geometry, History, and the Geography of India. A student in the school at Bukhrari under the same Tahsildar ‘solved with great neatness and quickness also, a tolerably stiff quadratic equation.’ Three of the boys ‘begged the DPI to send them to Roorkee to study civil engineering.’94

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Tahsili schools Since the Hulkabandi schools were unpopular, the government of NWP passed a resolution in 1850 to establish a better class of schools, called the Tahsili schools. Its resolution stated, There will be a government village school at the headquarters of every Tahsildar . . . conducted by a schoolmaster, who will receive from the government a salary of 10 to 20 per mensem, besides such fee he may collect from his scholars. The course of instruction in this school will consist of reading and writing the vernacular languages, both Urdu and Hindi, accounts and the mensuration of land according to the native system. To these will be added instruction in Geography, History, and Geometry.95 The government of the NWP selected eight districts – Agra, Aligarh, Bareli, Etawah, Farrukhabad, Mainpuri, Mathura, and Shahjahanpur – and asked H.S. Reid to prepare a report and made suggestions regarding the appointment of teachers.96 Reid rejected ‘the educate youth possessed of high scholastic attainments’ from being appointed as teachers: Instead, men of local influence, though not possessed of the same store of information and intellectual acquisition, would carry greater weight with the people. . . . The teacher, although not conversant with both Hindi and Urdu, ignorant, maybe, of the very existence of such branches of Mathematics, as Geometry and Algebra, had acquired some experience in the arduous work of tuition. He could secure the attention and respect of his scholars. Parents would entrust their children to his care. His reputation would prove the aegis of the school. Suspicion and distrust would be banished.97 Reid further added that ‘the course of study laid down in the government resolution of 9 February 1851, is most simple, such as any teacher of average intelligence could take his pupils through. The aspiring college student is a racer yoked to the plough. . . . By appointing the teachers from the old regime, we have gained a firm footing among the people . . . we have disarmed their suspicion.’98 Reid stated that ‘these schools inculcate the lessons of morality as we wish to inculcate. The mere amount of scientific knowledge which we care to bestow is readily furnished. It is an easier task to teach cube root than abhorrence of a lie.’99

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There is an interesting report by F.J. Mouat of the Council of Education in 1853. Mouat visited a Tahsili school in the village of Roorkie. He reported that the school was held in a neat, open, small pucca (permanent) building the pupils sitting upon mats on the floor. The walls were hung with maps in the Hindu and Persian characters. A black-board was at one end of the apartment. . . . The pupils exhibited in examination a fair elementary knowledge of arithmetic, and geography, were able to trace the course of rivers on maps and to indicate the most important towns situated on them. Some of them demonstrated with quickness and correctly, problems from the portions of Euclid read by them.100 Mouat declared that ‘I am struck with the real solid advance and firm root taken by the system.’ He compared it with an indigenous school ‘across the street’ where the bright eyed little fellows were squatted upon the clay floor, without any order or regularity . . . shouting out certain arithmetic tables with the whole power of the small lungs of the urchins. Arithmetic was the only branch in which they exhibited any degree of proficiency and in this one or two small boys worked out puzzling additions and multiplications of odds and fractional numbers with wonderful quickness and facility.’101 Moaut compared ‘orderly pupils sitting upon the mats’ in a government school with ‘urchins squatted upon the clay floor.’ Here the comparison was not between a Hulkabandi school and an indigenous school; it was between an indigenous school and a Tahsili school which was supposed to be a secondary school! The curriculum of the Tahsli School mentioned by Mouat was on par with primary schools maintained by Indians and the missionaries in Bengal, Bombay, and Madras Presidencies. However, the government insisted that the Tahsili Schools were secondary schools.102 Since the standard of instruction was so low, people resorted to private means. In 1852, there were 25 private highschools and 27 missionary schools in the NWP.103 W.W. Hunter admitted 30 years later that, even in areas where there were no modern schools, ‘those who had means prefer are still in favour of the indigenous system; while those who send their children to Hulkabandi schools are those who can spare them from manual labour.’104 However, governor-general Dalhousie accepted Mouat’s report and suggested the extension of the Halkabandi system to the remaining districts of the NWP, Bengal and Bihar.105

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Post-Macaulayan educational developments in Bombay Presidency After the government decided in 1839 to reduce Elphinstone College to the status of an ordinary school, the acting governor of Bombay, Farish, established the Board of Education to guide the education policy. Though Elphinstone College exhibited the domination of non-Brahmins, the government was able to change the caste background of teachers and students to a considerable extent in its schools. In 1820, the Ratnagiri district had 86 Marathi vernacular schools, with 33 Brahmin, 49 non-Brahmin, and two each of Muslim and Jewish teachers. In 1842, the eight government vernacular schools had seven Brahmin and one Maratha teacher. In 1824, the Belgaum district had 86 schools, with 45 Lingayat, 31 Brahmin, seven Vidhur, two Muslim, and one Maratha teacher. In 1842, its 19 government vernacular school had 13 Brahmin, five Lingayat, and one Shenoy teacher. In Ahmadnagar, Sholapur, Khandesh, and all of Gujarat, all teachers came to be Brahmins. These Brahmin teachers were not like the Brahmin teachers of the indigenous vernacular schools who had taken up the profession out of love for teaching; rather, they were handpicked by Jervis and trained to have perpetual disdain towards lower castes and lower classes. Therefore, within a period of two decades there was a change in the caste composition of upper-caste students and an overall decline in the number of students from artisanal castes. For example, in 1820, in the Ratnagiri district, there were 179 Prabhu and 152 Maratha students out of 418 upper-caste nonBrahmin students; in 1842, the number of Maratha students came down to 123, and the number of Prabhu came down to only six. Similarly, in 1820, the 393 students from artisanal castes consisted of 92 Sonar, 72 Kasar, and 44 Shimpi, and this came down to six, seven, and five, respectively; for the Bhandari caste, the decline was marginal, from 75 to 69. The other artisanal castes, such as Mali, Teli, Sutar, and Dhanger, simply disappeared from the list of students.106 A number of schools were also closed down during this period. The Panvel English School, which was in existence even before the British conquest of Western India, was abolished.107 The government also claimed that its educational policy was nothing short of ‘national education’ and declared that ‘we are indeed unwilling to enter upon speculation. . . . We are satisfied with the conviction that our efforts in the cause of National Education are rightly directed.’108

The English school at Thane The school at Thane was established by Seville Marriott, the collector of North Konkan, in 1821, after he received petitions from the people of

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Thane, Bessin, and Vasi. In 1845, Raghoba Sadashiva and 184 Brahmin, non-Brahmin, Muslim, native Christian, and Eurasian citizens of Thane sent a petition which stated, ‘we express deep regret at the determination of the government to discontinue the English school at Thana.’ They requested ‘a European master or a native teacher who has shown superior attributes.’ The Board of Education appointed one Nanabhai Morojee at a salary of 100 rupees per month.109 The new headmaster did not evoke much confidence, and within two years the strength came down from 50 to 40 boys. In the meantime, G.R. Clerk, who had begun the process of closing down Macaulay’s schools in the NWP, became the acting governor of Bombay. He set into motion a similar process. His successor, governor Falkland (Lucius Cary), continued the policy. The government used the reduction in strength as a pretext and ‘strongly recommended its abolition as the master’s salary of 100 rupees and a rent of 35 rupees is more than the attendance.’ He justified this by stating that ‘owing to the proximity of Bombay to Thana the pupils can come to Elphinstone Institution.’110 The abolition of the school evoked a strong reaction from the people of Thane. A petition drafted by Mohamad Ebrahin Parkar and signed by 238 Hindus, Muslims, Parsis, Portuguese, Eurasians, and native Christians questioned strongly the motive of closing down a successful school.111 Governor Falkland refused to entertain the petition. He wrote, ‘the petitioners may be told that the school was closed because it did not meet with proper countenance from the inhabitants. If they have any good reasons to urge for its re-establishment they should state them to the Board of Education.’112

Thomas Erskine Perry and the ‘medium of instruction’ debate Thomas Erskine Perry (1806–1882) was the son of a radical Scottish journalist, James Perry, who had stayed in Paris during the French Revolution and covered the events for the British press. He was also imprisoned for writing against the British government.113 Erskine Perry carried forward his father’s radical ideas and joined the reform movement in Britain during 1831–1832. He came to Bombay as a judge of the High Court in 1841 and took a keen interest in education. Perry supported two petitions by the people for government support for modern education. The first petition was from Sadashiv Crustna Nadkarni: a landlord (khot) wanted to establish a school at Hulmut village. The petition was signed by 60 people.114 Another petition, by the people of Belapur, requested that the government ‘bring a schoolmaster from England.’115 Perry supported both and suggested that the measure should be extended to the English schools at Thane and Surat.116 This proposal was opposed by Jervis. In 1844, Erskine Perry became the president of the Board of Education. Immediately, he revived and rejuvenated Elphinstone College. Under him, the college continued as the ‘Elphinstone Native 198

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Education Institution’ yet retained the British professors and worked as a real college. Perry proposed starting a civil engineering section at Elphinstone College. Civil engineering subjects were to be taught in English. Jervis opposed it and argued that ‘it would be advisable not to tax the attention of the native too much’ as they could not master the English language. ‘The natives who speak well, and can even write it with tolerable accuracy, cannot read and understand the commonest English work. The fact is that they have learned words, but not ideas.’117 Jervis prevailed over the decision, and when the civil engineering classes in vernacular started, nobody joined. After two months the government introduced scholarships, and only three boys joined; of them, two left within a month. To run the course, the college admitted seven poor European boys. To teach engineering in Marathi to European boys was a ridiculous idea. The Court of Directors opposed it.118 So the next year, the government proposed to teach the civil engineering course in English.119 Jervis again opposed it by arguing that ‘general instruction cannot be afforded except through the medium of a language with which the mind is familiar.’ He further stated that encouraging English education ‘is to withhold all education from the native population of the country, and has brought the course of education into comparative disfavour with the native community.’120 Jervis further argued that the natives who studied English gained only superficial knowledge. He gave the example of Dadoba Pandurang: ‘this man understands the meaning of the English regulations of the Board, cannot convey them intelligently in his own language.’121 There are two ways of interpreting this statement. First, if we accept Jervis’s statement as an article of truth, it speaks volumes about the quality of teaching in Jervis’s NES school in Bombay, where Dadoba studied. In fact, a committee constituted by the Board of Education to assess the standard of teachers produced by NES had declared them ‘with scarcely any exception most incompetent.’122 Second, in the year in which Jervis made this statement, Dadoba published his philosophical text Dharmavivechan, in which he brought together with Western rationalism India’s own religious dissent. If Dadoba had not understood the English books he read, he would not have written this philosophical book. By this time he had already established esoteric organisations called Manavadharma Sabha at Surat in 1844 and the Paramahamsa Sabha at Bombay in 1849 to oppose hierarchal caste system and campaign for the education of untouchable Mahar and Mang boys.123 The Bombay government itself admitted that ‘Dadoba Pandurang’s Marathi grammar is generally recognised as authoritative.’124 This shows that Dadoba was a self-made man and did not owe his intellect and abilities to Jervis’s school. It also exhibits Jervis’s disdain towards the intellectual capabilities of Indians. Jervis’s insistence on teaching civil engineering in Marathi was problematic because of his own shortcomings and the peculiarity of the Bombay 199

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Presidency. Jervis had been in charge of Marathi and Gujarati translations of history, geography, science, and mathematics textbooks since 1820 and had failed miserably. By the 1840s, Jervis had managed to prepare with the help of Marathi teachers a few basic Marathi books in mathematics. Jervis’s Beejah Gunnet, the Marathi translation of Elements of Algebra, cost 3 rupees and was considered ‘very elementary.’125 So how could civil engineering be taught in Marathi? The Bombay Presidency was multilingual, which included Marathi, Gujrathi, Kannada, Sindhi, and Telugu speaking populations. So there were five vernaculars with five scripts in which children were taught in primary schools. Adopting Marathi as a medium of instruction denied the non-Marathi speakers access to the civil engineering classes. Perry opposed Jervis by stating that his support of teaching in English was essentially to concede to ‘the disposition of Indians who overwhelmingly have expressed a desire to acquire knowledge of the English language.’126 Jervis compared English to Latin and argued that just as Europe was backwards when Latin was the sole language of literature, India, too, faced the same predicament. Perry rejected invoking the dominance of Latin in premodern Europe: The Petrarchs, the Galileos, and Luthers, were able to speak with effect to their countrymen because they had made themselves masters of all the recorded knowledge of their day. Their predecessors wrote in Latin, not for the purpose of veiling their knowledge, but in order to address a larger audience, the learned of Europe. . . . Natives, who wish to be as instructed as ourselves, must go to the same sources where we gain our information, and we must lend them every assistance in our power.127 Under the leadership of Perry, the strength of the Elphinstone Institution had increased from 550 boys in 1840 to 916 in 1850, while during the same period the strength of the seven vernacular schools run by NES had gone up from 661 to 733 boys.128 Perry thought very highly of Indian intellect. Testifying before the British Parliament, he argued for the appointment of Indians as judges in the courts as ‘the decisions of the native judges are better than those of the European judges.’129 On the other hand, Jervis continued to argue that Indians were incapable of understanding Western knowledge.130 His ideas were countered by the British professors who had worked in Elphinstone College. They lauded the intellectual capabilities of the native students and recommended for the establishment of ‘a university’ in Bombay.131 In the meantime, the governor stated that vernacular should be used for primary education and English for higher education.132 This validated Perry’s position. In spite of such a clear explanation, Jervis continued to oppose Perry’s scheme and argued that ‘English should be taught in only one institution 200

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in a province, and only to those students who can acquire European learning.’133 In the meantime, the civil engineering section was closed down on 31 December 1847.134 Perry threatened to resign if English was dropped from high schools as ‘no real knowledge could be communicated to the Indians through the vernaculars under the present circumstances.’135 Perry was supported by Escombe and McLennan, who were also on the board. But Jervis had the support of governor Falkland.136 Perry felt helpless and frustrated. He stressed the fact that he did want ‘the natives to fill the superior offices under the government, and if this process is to be reversed, the Board will go on under another president.’137 The governor expressed ‘displeasure on such a rigid stand and not adhering to the rules of the Board of Education.’138 Perry once again offered to resign by stating that ‘by presiding over the Board of Education my liberty of action was to be fettered. . . . I should have declined the post.’ He stated quite bluntly, ‘stripped of all phraseology, the main question at issue, so far as I can ascertain it, is, whether the superior branches of education in this presidency are to be conducted in English or not.’139 His resignation was not accepted. Perry offered a four-point programme – first, education for the masses can be in the vernacular languages; second, higher education ought to be in English; third, there was a need for the production of a superior class of schoolmasters for the vernacular schools; and finally, encouragement should be given to the translation of modern sciences into the vernacular languages.140 This was opposed once again. By this time Perry was exasperated and declared that ‘I am unwilling to carry on this discussion any further.’141 Once again Perry’s resignation was not accepted, because by this time the public debate had begun in Britain over the renewal of the Charter of the EIC, and the liberals had started approaching the British Parliament for a review of the failures of the EIC in the field of education. At this juncture the resignation of a liberal high court judge defending the education and employment of Indians would have weakened the position of the EIC before the British Parliament. All in all, Perry threatened to resign eight times to save the Elphinstone College and seven English high schools. To prove his point that the Indian students could understand and express their thoughts and excel in both English and vernacular, Perry conducted an essay competition wherein the students who wished to participate had to submit their essays in vernacular and in English. The competition was judged by a group of independent British scholars. It was won by Narayan Bhai, who belonged to the Kasar, or coppersmith, caste, considered low in the Hindu caste hierarchy. Narayan Bhai had studied in the English School at Thane and was currently pursuing his studies in Elphinstone College. Narayan Bhai eloquently critiqued the government’s education policy. This essay would have been lost to posterity but for the fact that Perry edited and published it and carried a copy with him when 201

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he returned to England. The lone copy is available in Erskine Perry’s personal papers.142

J. P. Willoughby’s Minute,1850 Willoughby, the senior-most official in the government, came out with an Education Minute explaining the government’s position on education. In an exhaustive Minute, he revisited all the debates since the very beginning of the establishment of the Presidency in 1818. He also referred to various arguments of H.H. Wilson and H.T. Prinsep in Bengal; James Thoamson and H.S. Reid in NWP; and Henry Pottinger in Madras. Fashioned after Auckland’s Minute, Willoughby’s Minute changed the nature of the debate from the purview of the ability of native boys to learn the English language and understand modern sciences or the necessity of English in higher education to the condition of state finances. He stated that ‘the government is of the opinion that too much attention is at present paid to English, and too little to Vernacular instruction. I consider it undesirable.’ Willoughby calculated that the annual cost of educating each boy in English was Rs 53–10–2, while the government could educate a boy in Marathi or Gujarati medium for Rs 6–4–10. So he suggested that the government should stop this disproportionate expenditure on English schools.143 This is an arbitrary comparison. Willoughby was comparing eight classes (1–8) in English schools and the Elphinstone College against four classes (1–4) in vernacular schools. Willoughby’s statistics include the English School at Thane, which had been closed down in 1846. When Willoughby included the ‘English school in Poona,’ did he refer to the expenditure on the English section of the Sanskrit College, or to the entire college? There is no clarity on this. Willoughby’s Minute is important for it is here that the true nature of government jobs available to natives is clear and evident. Willoughby argued that maintaining English schools was not necessary, because ‘the natives are employed as mamlatdars, munsifs, village accountants, police patels and schoolmasters, who do not require any English.’144 Willoughby’s statement makes it clear that the jobs available for Indians were much lower than clerical; these were at the level of village accountants, village schoolmasters, and police guards.

Minute by J.E.D. Bethune, 1851 J.E.D. Bethune, the Law Member of the governor-general’s Council, was alarmed at the doctrine openly professed by Willoughby and concurred by the government of Bombay . . . that the main purpose of our schools to be the training up of good Manchetdas, good Moonsiffs, good village accountants, good police patels and a host 202

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of other minor native functionaries for the public service. I entirely dissent from this doctrine.145 Bethune argued that such a limited and narrow curriculum would not lead to any improvement in the condition of Indians. The English language, modern sciences, radical content of literature and philosophy are essential for social and economic transformation: The great curse of caste, infant marriages, polygamy and the enforced celibacy of widows with all the crimes and abomination that follow in their train are mainly supported by superstitions which melt away, like snow before the fire, when brought into direct contact with European knowledge.146 Bethune was surprised to find that there were ‘only eight English schools with 1471 boys throughout the Bombay Presidency, and the government wanted to reduce their numbers by stating that too much attention is at present paid to English instruction.’147 The post-Macaulayan educational policies aimed to ruthlessly undermine the equal access and quality education propounded by Macaulay and other British and Indian liberals. These policies were directly responsible for the consolidation of the caste system in the field of education as well as a very low standard of government schools in the NWP. The English schools survived in the Bombay Presidency due to the efforts of Thomas Erskine Perry.

Notes 1 Knighton, Government Education in India, 19. 2 GCPIC, Vol. 19, Minute by A. Trotter, Patna School, 23 February 1838. 3 GCPIC, Vol. 58. The petition by Roy Kalinath Choudhury and 67 others, 15 February 1838. 4 Woodrow, Macaulay’s Minutes on Education, Minute, 6 August 1835, 77. 5 Trevelyan, On the Education, 20. 6 Chaudhury, Derozio, Poet of India, lxxlv. 7 Cutts, ‘The Background of Macaulay’s Minute,’ 828. 8 Chaudhury, Gentlemen Poets, 23–24. 9 Chaudhury, Derozio, Poet of India, xlv. 10 Ibid, lxxiii–lxxiv. 11 Ibid, 106–107. 12 Board Collections, No. 79941, Minute by Auckland, 24 August 1839. 13 Ibid. 14 Ibid. 15 Ibid. 16 The term ‘middle class’ in the 19th India referred to the landlords as they stood in the middle between the ruling classes and the poor. The British ruling elite and the Indian princes formed the upper class; the landlords, the moneylenders, and big businessmen formed the middle class. And the rest, from the petty

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shopkeepers, teachers, to the agricultural labourers, formed the lower class. Misra, The Indian Middle Class, 275–347. In the last quarter of the nineteenth century the English educated persons came to be called as the ‘educated middle class or simply middle class.’ This placed both the zamindar with an annual income of 10,000 rupees and a schoolteacher with an annual income of 60 rupees in the same category; see Rao, Foundations of Tilak’s Nationalism, 23–26. 17 Board Collections, No. 79941, Minute by Auckland, 24 November 1839. 18 Ibid. 19 Richey, Educational Records, 1. Alexander Duff called it ‘restoration of orientalism in the education of the privileged classes of native youth,’ Rev. Alexander Duff Letters to Lord Auckland, vii. 20 Richey, Educational Records, 3–5. 21 The Report of the GCPI, 1841, 100. 22 Richey, Educational Records, 65–67. 23 Ibid, 79, Letter from the government of India to the GCPI, 16 December 1840. 24 Ibid, 88, Letter to Ireland, 20 June 1844. 25 Report of the General Committee of Public Instruction, 1846, 95–100. 26 Resolution of the Government of India, 10 October 1844, Parliamentary Papers, 1845, Vol. 34, 1–2. 27 GCPIC, Vol. 60. These students were from the following colleges: Vidyalaya or Hindu-23, Hooghly-22, Decca-3, Presidency-3, Krishnaghur-2. 28 Bengal General, Despatch from the Court of Directors 30 April 1845, Hardinge to Court of Directors, 21 May 1845. 29 Government of India to the Court of Directors, 12 May 1847. 30 Ibid. 31 Richey, Educational Records, 67–69. 32 Bengal General, Nos. 8–9, Hardinge to the Court of Directors, 15 January 1845. 33 Bengal General, No. 96, the government of Bengal to the Secretary to the Sudder Board of Revenue, 18 December 1844. 34 Richey, Educational Records, 80, Extract from the reports for 1840–42, Vernacular class-books. 35 Ibid, 86, Letter, 23 January 1845. 36 Ibid, 68. 37 Ibid, 69. 38 The Report of the Indian Education Commission, 17. 39 Ibid, 100–102, Letter, 16 November 1854. 40 Ibid, 100–102, Letter, 16 November 1854. 41 Ibid, 116, Letter, 21 October 1853. 42 The Report of the GCPI, 1841, 79–83. 43 Report of Public Instruction, Bengal 1846–48, 154. 44 Education, 24 September 1858, No. 1–5. 45 H.S. Reid to Muir, 7 October 1858, Education, 17 December 1858, No. 12–15. 46 R.B. Chapman, to W. Gordon Young Director of Public Instruction of Bengal, 30 November 1858, Education, 4 March 1859, Nos. 6–7. 47 Richey, Educational Records, 232, Circular No. 1, 3 May 1843. 48 Report of Public Instruction in the NWP, 1843–44, 6. 49 Ibid, A Note on Education by George Clerk, 8. 50 Ibid. Burkundaz was an armed employee of a civil department. 51 Ibid. 52 Ibid. 53 Metcalf, The Aftermath of Revolt, 17. 54 Report of Public Instruction in the NWP 1843–44, A Note on Education by George Clerk, 8.

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5 Report of Public Instruction in the NWP 1850–51, 81–83. 5 56 Report of the GCPI, 1841, 100–101. 57 Report of Public Instruction in the NWP 1843–44, 14. 58 British headmaster G.E. Henwood, assistant masters G.H.C. Wilkinson, Bhookun Laul, Adjudhea Prasad, Abdool Salam, and two senior students, Ubdoollah Khan and Thakur Prasad, managed the library. RPI-NWP, 1843–44, 25–27. 59 Report of Public Instruction in the NWP 1846, 29. 60 Ibid, 1847–1848, 42. 61 Ibid, 1. 62 Report of Public Instruction in the NWP 1843–44, 37–40. The school had one British headmaster, C. C Fink, and three native teachers, Narrain Dass, Jamul ul deen, and Chundrumunee. 63 Report of Public Instruction in the NWP 1845–46, 1. 64 Ibid, 1847–48, 11–14. 65 Ibid. 66 Ibid, 1844–45, 9–12. 67 Ibid. 68 Ibid, 1846–47, 8. 69 Ibid, 1848–49, 103. 70 Ibid, 1843–44, 8–17. English headmaster W. H. Bachman, and two Muslim teachers, Jemaluddin and Mendee Hussyn. 71 Ibid. 72 RPI-NWP, 1849–50, 81–85. 73 Ibid, 1848–49, 84. 74 Ibid, 1850–51, 96–97. 75 Report of Public Instruction in the NWP 1843–44, 51–54. 76 Ibid, 1844–45, 31. 77 Ibid, 1843–44, 28. 78 Ibid, 1849–50, 80. 79 Ibid, 1850–51, 88–91. 80 Ibid. 81 Ibid, 1843–44, 40–44, Three British masters were G. Wiggins, the headmaster, Henry Templeton, and Charles Gill, assistant masters. Lachmi Prasadand Hurnath were native masters and Jisuk Roy was librarian. 82 RPI-NWP, 1845–46, 44–45. 83 Ibid, 1846–47, 59–60. 84 Ibid, 1847–48, 2, 64–67 (191 boys 3 Christian, 150 Hindu, 38 Muslim). 85 Richey, Educational Records, 236–239, Circular from the government of the NWP, June 1845. 86 Ibid, 242–243. Ram Surrun Doss was the deputy collector of Delhi and had written four elementary books in Hindi. 87 Education, 25 April 1868, A Nos. 15–17, A Note by Thomason 18 November 1844. 88 Returns to the House of Commons 1859, Part I, 645. 89 Education, 10 June 1859, Nos. 9–10. 90 Report on the Popular Education in the NWP for 1856–57, 57–58, 30–31. 91 RPI-NWP, 1850–51, 86, H.S. Reid, Visitor General of Schools to J. Thornton, Secretary to government of NWP 10 October 1851. 92 Education, 19 February 1858, Nos, 2–4, NAI. 93 Richey, Educational Records, 241. 94 Returns to the House of Commons 1859, Vol. 1 Part II, 1–3. 95 Richey, Educational Records, 249–50, Resolution of the government of the NWP, 9 February 1850.

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96 Henry Stewart Reid, Visitor General of Schools to J. Thornton, Sec to govt of NWP 10 October 1851. Report on Indigenous Education and Vernacular Schools in Agra, Aligarh, Bareli, Etawah, Farrukhabad, Mainpuri, Mathura and Shahjahanpur, 1850–52, 1. 97 Ibid, 7–8. Qualification requirement in a Tahsili School Master. 98 Ibid, 8. 99 Ibid, 84–86. 100 Richey, Educational Records, 258–263, Report on Vernacular education in the NWP by F. J. Mouat, 4 June 1853. 101 Ibid. 102 Education, 25 April 1868 A Nos. 15–17, A Note by Thomason 18 November 1844. 103 Report of Public Instruction in the NWP 1852–53, H.S. Reid to William Muir, 21 October 1852, 8. 104 Report of the Indian Education Commission 1882, 107. 105 Richey, Educational Records, 266–269. Minute by Dalhousie, 25 October 1853. 106 General Department, 24A of 1843, Report of the Board of Education. The caste of one non-Brahmin teacher in Poona district is not readable; the remaining teachers comprised 16 Chitpavan Brahmin, 1 Deshasta Brahmin and 1 Maratha. 107 Report of the Board of Education, 1840–1841, 6. 108 Ibid, 21. 109 General Department 30 of 1845, Petition, 1 April 1845, Board of Education to the government 2 July 1845. 110 General Department 19 of 1849, Abolition of English School at Thana. 111 Ibid, Petition by the inhabitants of Thana, 7 September 1849. 112 Ibid, Minute by the governor of Bombay, October 1849 (date not readable). 113 Asquith, ‘James Perry and the Morning Chronicle,’ 130–132. It was Minto who later became the governor-general of India who moved the resolution to prosecute James Perry. 114 General Department 31 of 1842; the original Marathi petition is not available. Its translation by Bal Gangadhar Shastri, submitted to government on 16 December, is available. 115 Ibid, 32 of 1842 Petition from people of Belapur. 116 Ibid, Morehead to government, 28 April 1842. 117 General Department 25 of 1847, Minute by Jervis, 16 March 1846. 118 Ibid, G.R. Clerk to Court of Directors, 18 August 1847. 119 Ibid, 26 of 1848, W. Escombe to M. Stovell, 30 January 1847. 120 Ibid, Minute by George Jervis, 24 February 1847. 121 Ibid, Minute by George Jervis, 13 April 1847. 122 Ibid, Minute by Perry, 9 April 1848. The committee consisted of Professors Orlebar, Harkness, Candy, Green, Eisdale, and Bal Gangadhar Shastri. 123 Naik, ‘Dharmavivechan,’ 62–70. 124 Report of the Director of Public Instruction 1857–58, 42. 125 Report of the GCPI 1841, Appendix M, xciv. 126 General Department 26 of 1848, Minute by Perry, 25 February 1847. 127 Ibid, 29 of 1850, Minute by Perry, 14 April 1847. 128 Report of the Board of Education, 8. 129 Parliamentary Papers, Sixth Report from the Select Committee on Indian Territories, 1852–53, Vol. 29, 120. 130 General Department 29 of 1850, Minutes by Jervis, 9 May 1848, and 16 March 1846.

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31 Ibid, quoted in Minute by Perry, 9 April 1848. 1 132 Report of Board of Education, Extract from Government Letter, 5 April 1848. 133 Ibid, Minutes by Jervis, 9 and 13 May 1847. 134 Report of the Board of Education, 1847–48, 198. 135 General Department 29 of 1850, Minute by Perry, 14 April 1847, 13 April 1848. 136 At this time Jervis was not a member of the Board of Education; however, he had a triple advantage over other officers. He was one of the senior-most officials in the Bombay Presidency, he controlled schools through his NES, and finally, due to his obscurantist ideas, he was close to the governors of Bombay. 137 General Department, Minute by Perry, 9 April 1848, 10 May 1848. 138 Ibid governor to Perry, 18 August 1848. 139 Ibid, Perry to the Governor, 21 August 1848. 140 Ibid, Minute by Perry, 14 September 1848. 141 Ibid, Minute by Perry, 22 September 1848. By this time the debate had produced 900 letters. 142 Perry, ed., Two Hindus on English Education. 143 Report of the Board of Education, 1850, Minute by J.P. Willoughby, 12 January 1850, 134–192. 144 Ibid. 145 Minute by J.E.D. Bethune, 23 January 1851, Richey, Educational Records, 28–31. 146 Ibid. 147 Ibid.

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It is neither our aim nor our desire to substitute the English language for the vernacular dialects of the country. – Wood’s Despatch 18541

Education of untouchable children The Bombay Presidency witnessed the earliest liberal attack on the caste system and the promotion of the education of untouchable children in the 1830s. In 1832, Bal Shastri Jambhekar began to attack gender and caste inequality through his Anglo-Marathi paper Bombay Darpan and continued to write in Dig Darshan, a Marathi magazine which he started in 1840. He opposed the privileges of Brahmins and child marriage and advocated for women’s education. Dadoba and his brother Atmaram Pandurang Tarkhadkar, who belonged to Vysya caste, began to attack gender and caste inequalities through the newspapers Prabhakar, started in 1841, and Jnanodaya, started in 1842. Dadoba rejected caste and religious distinctions, and in his book Dharmavivechan condemned social inequality. He established Manavadharma Sabha at Surat in 1844 and the Paramahamsa Sabha at Bombay in 1849 and strongly advocated the abolition of the caste system and the spread of education among untouchable Mahars and the Mangs.2 In 1842, a Mahar boy was admitted to the Scottish Mission School in Poona, and it was protested by some Brahmin boys, but Murray Mitchell, the missionary, refused to heed. Jotirao Phule was a student of the school at that time and witnessed the episode firsthand. Two other Brahmin boys, Moro Vithal Valavekar and Sadashiv Ballal Govinde, who were also students of the school at that time, supported the admission. This idealism brought Phule, Valavekar and Govinde together, and they became close friends. In 1853, they established the Society for Promoting the Education among Mahars and Mangs.3 They were joined by numerous Brahmin and upper-caste liberals and reformers, such as Sakharam Yeshwant Paranjape. Govinde became the president; Valavekar, the secretary; and Paranjape, the treasurer. Together, they were a formidable force. 208

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In 1850, the governor of Bombay, Falkland, openly asserted that there should be a ‘strict limitation of superior education to the wealthy, who can afford to pay for it, and to youths of unusual intelligence.’4 The Court of Directors supported it by stating that ‘only a small section of the population can be brought under the influence of government education in India,’ and ‘decided that the section should be the upper classes.’ The Bombay government in its reply divided the Hindu society into four classes. The first class consisted of those ‘who may be deemed to be influential upper classes like the landowners and Jagirdars, representatives of farmer feudatories and persons in authority under native powers, and who may be termed as a soldier class.’ The government admitted that it had failed to co-opt this group. ‘A small section among the wealthier classes is taking advantage of school training in Bengal, but in other places, the wealthy are wholly indifferent to superior education’: It is a well-recognised fact that throughout India, the ancient Jagirdars or soldier class are daily deteriorating. Their old occupation is gone, and they have shown no disposition or capacity to adopt a new one or cultivate the arts of peace. In this presidency the attempts of Elphinstone and his successors to bolster up a landed aristocracy have lamentably failed; and complete discomfiture has hitherto to all endeavours to open up a path to distinction through civil honours and education to a race whom nothing appears to excite but vain pomp and extravagance, or the reminiscence of their ancestors’ successful raids in the plains of Hindoostan.5 The second and third classes consisted of ‘the commercial class’ and ‘the higher employees of the government.’ These two classes were dismissed for not being influential enough to affect society. The fourth class consisted of Brahmins and other higher castes ‘who live by the pen, such as Prabhus and Shenwis in Bombay, Kayasthas in Bengal.’ However, Brahmins and these high castes were ‘for the most part wretchedly poor’; and in many parts of India the term ‘Brahmin’ was synonymous with ‘beggar.’ The education department argued that if ‘the beggarly Brahmins’ were freely admitted into the government schools, what is there to prevent all the despised castes—the Dhers, Mahars from flocking in numbers. . . . If education is open to men of superior intelligence from any community and with such qualifications there would be nothing to prevent their aspiring to the highest offices open to native talent, – to judgeships, the Grand jury, Her Majesty’s Commission of peace.6 So the government insisted that Brahmins could be ‘given education provided they acquire a position either in learning or station.’ It also explained 209

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that there was ‘no means for ascertaining unusual intelligence amongst the poor exist until their faculties have been tested and developed by school training.’ It opposed ‘the British liberal official’s’ opinion ‘the government should not succumb to the prejudice, and that an open attack should be made upon the barriers of caste.’ Openly supporting the caste hierarchy, the education department officials argued that the caste system was similar to the feelings that would be roused in England where the head of the House of Percy or of Howard allying himself with a butcher’s daughter, however beautiful, accomplished, or wealthy. . . . The social peculiarities on these subjects lie wholly beyond the just scope of government interference.7 As Falkland openly asserted his support for the caste system and complicated it by creating further categories, Valavekar passionately wrote to Falkland that ‘the Mahars and Mangs are held in abomination by the natives of this country in general. They have been excluded by the rest of the castes from the benefit of education and social interaction.’ He stated that the school was originally established by Jotirao Phule about one and a half years back and that the school had 150 boys and 100 girls. They were taught reading, writing, grammar, arithmetic, and parsing. He also stated that the funds at its disposal were not sufficient for paying the rent of the school rooms; the salaries of teachers; and the procurement of schoolbooks, maps, and stationery. He requested that the government construct a suitable school building.8 The government referred the matter to Nana Moroji, the deputy collector of Poona. Moroji had a meeting with Phule and the other committee members. Phule had asked 5,000 rupees for constructing ‘two apartments one each for boys and girls, a large hall for public examinations, four classrooms and a library.’ Moroji approved the classrooms and apartments but suggested that one of the public buildings could be used for examination and that the general library at Boodwar Palace should be open to the students. He suggested a place called Topkhana, situated at the outer extremity of the Bhowani Peit, between the city and the cantonment.9 The government accepted the plan, assigned the grounds, and asked the collector to monitor the construction and pay the 5,000 rupees. The Dakshina Prize Committee had to ‘repay the above sum to government by yearly instalment of 200 rupees which it was expected to realise from the sale of works published by them.’10 This was a grand concession that the committee could elicit from the administration of John Elphinstone, who had earlier destroyed the education system built by Munro in Madras because it included low-caste children. The collector E.C. Jones doubted whether the government had the resources. Nana Moroji, the deputy-collector, supported the cause and drew 210

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up a plan costing 3,000 rupees, which excluded a hall and a library building to the proposed school. He identified the plot of land for construction and suggested the utilisation of Dakshina Fund.11 This was the first application that came up for discussion under the grant-in-aid scheme in 1854. The government of Bombay in its Resolution dated 23 May 1855 sanctioned both the land identified by Nana Moroji and the 5,000 rupees. R. White, the secretary to the Dakshina Prize Committee, and C.J. Erskine, the DPI, refused to give the funds.12 Under the grant-in-aid scheme, the local population had to raise 50 per cent of funds. Neither the poor untouchables nor their poor Brahmin supporters, such as Valavekar and Govinde, could mobilise sufficient resources. So implementation of the grant-in-aid ran into serious difficulties at the ground level. The Committee managed to get 25 rupees a month from the Dakshina Fund of the Education Department.13 This is an important development as the Dakshina Fund was reserved for recognising and honouring Sanskrit scholarship by the earlier Peshwa rulers; it was continued by Mountstuart Elphinstone. So the Fund meant for only Brahmins was given to the education of untouchable children. This shows that the Society was able to influence the officials in a small way. On 29 August 1856, a public examination of the students of this school was held in a building at Phurkay’s Wada in Adiwar Peit. It was attended by the revenue commissioner, the judge of Poona, the collectors of Poona and Ratnagiri, the Inam Commissioner, and several other British officials. Liberal Indians also attended, such as Moro Raghunath, Nana Moroji, Gopalrow Hurry, Vishnoo Moreshwar, Bapoo Rowjee, Bhaskar Damodar, Mahadev Govind, Professor Kero Lakshman, Framji Nusurvanji, Kesheo Sheoram, Anna Sahib Chiplunkar, and others.14 In spite of the presence of such high profile officials, Phule and Valavekar could not get sufficient funds. On 2 June 1856, Erloo, son of Narayan, an 11-year-old boy of Mahar caste, applied for admission to the Government Marathi School at Dharwar. The Brahmin headmaster, who had been trained in the Native Education Society, refused admission on the grounds of caste. The boy and his father appealed in vain to the authorities in the Education Department; they also sent a petition to the government.15 The government sent F. B. Baker, the visitor of schools, to report on the matter. Baker reported that ‘the grounds of objection being the repugnance of Brahmins and others to mingle with the class. Moreover, I have often been cautioned by the Board of Education against any direct interference with the prejudice of the people.’16 By this time, the Board of Education had been abolished. Baker was referring to the earlier decisions of governor Falkland. Director of Public Instruction C.J. Erskine referred to Phule’s school in Poona where Brahmin teachers taught untouchable boys. He further added that in such private schools ‘the low caste boys themselves feel much at ease under this arrangement.’17 He strongly recommended the establishment of separate low-caste schools.18 The governor of Bombay, John Elphinstone, admitted that ‘the petitioner 211

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had reason and justice on his side,’ but ‘to interfere with the prejudices of ages for the sake of one or few individuals would probably do great damage to the cause of education.’19 The government informed the petitioner that it could not at present interfere on his behalf.20 When the matter reached the Court of Directors, they favoured the admission of boys of all castes into the government schools and stated that ‘the government schools must always be open to all, and if the wealthier classes opposed to such institutions, they may apply their funds if they think fit to the formation of schools on a different basis.’21 They further stressed that no exclusion solely on the ground of caste should be allowed . . . the educational institutions of the government are intended by us to be open to all classes; and we cannot depart from a principle which is essentially sound and the maintenance of which is of the first importance. It is not impossible that in some cases the enforcement of the principal may be followed by the withdrawal of a portion of the scholars.22 The DPI of Bombay, E.I. Howard, stated that the government ‘resolves that all schools maintained at the sole cost of government shall be open to all classes of its subjects without distinction’; however, the policy of the Board of Education was to confine education to natives of good caste and superior classes; and if they discouraged or prohibited Europeans and half-castes from entering government schools, still less were they likely to wish for the presence of pupils supposed to be of abject origin, and regarded with abhorrence by the more favoured castes. Low-caste boys as a general rule are dirty and offensive in their persons. It would evidently not be fair to other children to compel them to receive such a fellow-pupil by their side. It would be like intruding a chimney-sweep or crossingsweeper upon a class of clean well-dressed boys in an English national school. The effect would be to drive away those who are most able to profit by education, for the benefit of those who are least able.23 Howard stated that ‘the machinery of the grant in aid system is exactly applicable to such cases. All who wish to have exclusive schools, from whatever motives, can at once command the aid of the state towards their support.’24 During the course of this debate a reference was made to a government school in Kunhur in Khandesh where the Brahmin master and parents of 60 upper-caste children had no prejudice towards the presence of untouchable children in their midst. While the debate on the admission of untouchable boys was raging in Bombay Presidency, the government of India asked the 212

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Madras and Bengal Presidencies to report on the status of such children in their schools. In the Madras Presidency, the Rajahmundry government high school had two European, 14 East Indian, 20 Brahmin, 67 upper-caste Hindu, and five Pariah boys. The Brahmins working in the government were hostile to the school. The government refused to yield to prejudice. The Kumbakonam Government School had 163 Hindu students, of which 128 were Brahmins, 30 native Christians, and one Pariah. The Calicut Government School had 238 boys, comprising 142 Hindus, eight Europeans, 69 Eurasians, eight native Christians, three Parsis, and eight Muslims. The Bellary school had 144 Hindu, nine Eurasian, and 16 Muslim boys who did not exhibit any hostility towards the idea of the admission of untouchable children.25 The lieutenant-governor of Bengal, Frederick James Halliday, in a Minute dated 20 July 1857, stated that in Bengal ‘low caste boys are freely admitted into all government schools. . . . However, practically the admission is left to local administration and tacit accommodation of local prejudices, practices and opinions.’ This had led to a situation in which ‘without any irritating or doubtful disputation these castes which the Hindus universally considered vile are no where presented for admission into our schools.’ Halliday further explained that, within the Hindu society, there is a varying level of social feelings, certain castes being admitted without any offence in some places, while the same castes were opposed in other places. . . . There is a general tendency towards relaxation of prejudices and gradual depreciation of the obstinate line. In this wholesome and natural process much aid is afforded by the educated natives attached to the education department who are often able to influence general feeling. This is quite and unobtrusive but in the end inevitably a successful methods. 26 Halliday suggested that a rigid and violent enforcement of philosophical liberality into management of our schools would, I fear, like any over logical and aggressive reform all implied in other matters, social political or religious provide reactions and revolution and would thus delay if not imperil the ultimate attainment of the great object in view.27 On the whole, the Bengal government stated that ‘a boy from untouchable caste would not have been refused admission in any government school in Bengal.’28 It was easy for the governor to make this statement as the government did not maintain any school and the high schools and colleges that had been taken over from private management did not have any untouchable 213

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children. The government of India did not resolve the issue but left it to the Presidencies to handle on their own.

Educational developments in Sind and Punjab Sind was conquered in 1843, and the officials wanted to introduce Urdu as a language of instruction. At that time Sindhi was the official language as well as the language of instruction. It was written both in Khudabadi, a variation of Nagari, and in Persian script. Several British officers projected Sindhi as ‘crude, poor and a provincial dialect’ and argued that ‘divide et imperia had always been our best policy and must continue to be so.’29 This shows that the reason for introducing Urdu was essentially to divide the people. By 1850, Urdu was firmly established as both the language of administration and the medium of instruction. Punjab was annexed in 1849. The first governor of Punjab, Robert Montgomery, recommended the disuse of both Punjabi language and Gurumukhi script. He proposed a Central School at Amritsar to teach Sanskrit and other classical languages of India ‘as a means of engrafting European truth upon Asiatic science, philosophy and constitute as it were a bridge over the gulf between oriental and occidental learning.’30 He supported ‘the Hulkabandi system and adoption of Hindi and Urdu like the NWP as it possesses advantages over less cultivated patios of Punjab.’ Here, the Hulkabandi system came to be called the ‘Circle School’ system. As in the NWP, in Punjab the government did retain a certain degree of power in the appointment of teachers. However the local rich and powerful had a large say in the functioning of the schools.31 Montgomery also suggested that there was no need to establish government schools, as there were missionary schools, and many Panjabis employed Bengali English teachers to teach their sons.32 Still, his successor, Donald Friell McLeod, declared that ‘I am not aware of decided eagerness to learn English.’33 Montgomery was the brother-in-law of James Thomason, and McLeod was the son-in-law of Montgomery.34 This family determined what Punjabis should learn in schools. The Hindus, Muslims, and Sikhs of Punjab spoke Punjabi and used Nagari, Persian, and Gurumukhi scripts, respectively, for writing purposes. The British decided to introduce Urdu in Persian script as the medium of instruction. The pundits and Maulvis were approached to work as teachers in the newly established schools, and ‘a short set of rules for their guidance was printed and given to each school master on their appointment.’ The masters were hostile. William Arnold, the first director of public instruction, reported that the ‘first time the school masters heard the words – History, Geography, Arithmetic, they found it repulsive.’35 Arnold was unrealistic in expecting the Punjabi, Arabic, and Persian teachers to teach history

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and geography in unfamiliar Urdu, and castigating them for not doing so showed arrogance. Arnold wrote, We found a whole people wedded to a system diametrically opposed to that which we wish to introduce; to whom the Urdu language we properly wish to make the medium of popular instruction. . . . . Urdu is offensive to a learned Arabic scholar. We found a people ignorant of the geography of their own province, ignorant that there was such a science as geography and therefore prepared to reject geography as men are inclined to reject whatever is strange to them. . . . We found a population with their own idea of the meaning of education, and to that idea thoroughly attached; and to whom our idea of education, being inconsistent with their own, was thoroughly distasteful; as to an Asiatic everything is distasteful which is new. Well I am not going say that in two years our idea has beaten theirs out of the field.36 This statement by Arnold appears to give the impression that the people of Punjab were against modern education. Even before the annexation of Punjab, there were English schools in Amritsar and Rawalpindi maintained by the people and by the missionaries at Amritsar, Fetozepur, Ludhiana, Jalandhar, Ambala, Kangra, and Kotegarh, near Simla. By the time Arnold wrote this report, the people of Rawal Pindi had supported diverting the surplus town duty of 130 rupees to maintain a school with 300 boys. It was handed over to the American Presbyterian Missionaries, who already had established a school at Lahore with a similar capacity. In all these schools geography and modern sciences were taught.37 This shows that the opposition to geography was not an opposition to the subject; it was opposition to teaching it in an unfamiliar language and script. Still, the government adopted Urdu as a medium of instruction and declared it ‘a really national system of education.’38 The adoption of Urdu also had an adverse effect on girl’s education. Unlike other parts of India, girls were educated in schools by all the three communities of Punjab, and women also worked as teachers. There was no religious prohibition on their education. With Urdu as a medium of instruction, these women teachers lost their jobs.39 William Arnold was the son of the famous Rugby School headmaster Thomas Arnold, who had initiated a number of educational reforms, such as introducing modern subjects, a fixed timetable, the division of teaching time into periods, and physical training. William Arnold had studied in the same school, but it was neither his father’s vision nor his experience in the most famous modern school that shaped his educational policies. It was his ruthless imperialist agenda that was set into motion in Punjab.

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The prologue to Wood’s Despatch, 1854 As the Charter came up for review, the EIC had little to show for any advancement made in the field of education. It admitted that ‘in matters of education, we have left the people too long alone.’40 Alexander Duff took the initiative as early as 1851 to individually meet the directors to win their approval for a scheme of grant-in-aid modelled on the prevailing system in England. Duff, testifying before the British Parliamentary Committee, effectively spoke in favour of introducing the grant-in-aid system and the establishment of universities in India. John Marshman, Charles Trevelyan, and C. H. Cameron, who also testified before the same Committee, supported Duff. They brought before the Parliament not only the inadequacies and failures of the education policies but also the uneven educational developments in different parts of India. They urged for a uniform policy of encouraging English education for all sections of the society. Wood endorsed the proposals by declaring that Britain was duty-bound to do so. This formed the basis of Wood’s Despatch.41 In 1852, Charles Wood, a liberal MP, became president of the Board of Control. Charles Wood has been described as a pious man with a sense of public duty.42 Wood’s appointment was of crucial importance as the EIC’s Charter was due to expire in 1854, and the review of its performance began in 1853. Often, Wood chaired the sessions of these meetings of the Parliamentary Select Committee when evidence was taken.43 H.H. Wilson, in his testimony, attributed the decline of the Calcutta Madrasa to the introduction of English. He called it ‘a great mistake’ because English was taught to ‘a very inferior class of scholars, particularly sons of domestic servants.’ Wilson insisted that people do not want English beyond presidencies. What has a young man in the villages or the mofussil to do with English? The great mass of people cannot be taught English; they have no necessity for it, and they have no time to give to the acquirement of it. You cannot make an English scholar at a Hindu college in less than 10 or 12 years. The people at large cannot afford to give so much time to education in India any more than in this country.44 This shows that the Anglicist-Orientalist debate played out once again during 1852–53 in the corridors of the British Parliament.

The Despatch of 1854 On 19 July 1854, the directors of the East India Company sent a despatch to the governor-general of India. This despatch, also known as Wood’s Despatch, has been hailed as the Magna Carta of Indian education as it 216

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introduced the system of grant-in-aid and proposed the establishment of universities in Bombay, Calcutta, and Madras. It declared that the expansion of educational infrastructure ‘is one of our most sacred duties,’ and announced its three important objectives. First, it aimed ‘not only to produce a higher degree of intellectual fitness’ but also to enable the government ‘with increased confidence commit offices of trust’ to Indians. This was the endorsement of the demand of Munro and Macaulay. Second, modern education ‘will teach the natives of India the marvellous results of the employment of labour and capital, rouse them to emulate us in the development of the vast resources of their country, guide them in their efforts and gradually, but certainly, confer upon them all the advantages which accompany the healthy increase of wealth and commerce.’ This had been proposed by Charles Grant in 1792. Third, it would ‘secure to us a larger and more certain supply of many articles necessary for our manufactures and extensively consumed by all classes of our population, as well as an almost inexhaustible demand for the produce of British labour.’45 This alone can be attributed as the original aim of Wood’s Despatch. Thus, the aims of the despatch were to prepare the people for government appointment, help the natives develop their resources and finally create efficient suppliers to and consumers of British industries. Like numerous previous despatches on Indian education, Wood began with a deep appreciation of the Orientalist’s ideas on education: The systems of science and philosophy which forms the learning of the east abound with grave errors . . . the praiseworthy endeavours of the Oriental scholars to ingraft [sic] upon portions of Hindoo philosophy the germs of sounder morals and of more advanced sciences. It asserted that the Orientalist policies had produced ‘good effect on the learned classes of India.’46 The despatch stressed that ‘English should be taught where there is demand. We look forward to English and vernaculars of India together as the media for the diffusion of European knowledge.’47 The despatch also appreciated the educational experiments of the most obscurantist officers, such as James Thomason, H.S. Reid, and others. ‘Thomason displayed accurate knowledge of the condition and requirement of the people under his charge, and that clear and ready perception of the political measures best suited for their welfare, which makes his death a loss to India.’48 Wood explained that ‘Thomason ascertained from statistical information, the lamentable state of ignorance in which the people were sunk. He therefore organised a system of encouragement of indigenous schools.’49 The despatch suggested the extension of Thomason’s scheme to Bombay Presidency and upheld Daniel Eliott plan of extending Thomason’s plan to Madras Presidency.50 This was a virtual endorsement 217

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of the failed educational policy which had been imposed on India during 1810–1853. However, there were three important proposals that helped Indian education. They were: common nomenclature for the education department for the entire country; the grant-in-aid system; and the establishment of universities in Bombay, Bengal, and Madras. Along with the single nomenclature, the despatch insisted that ‘the first heads of the Educational Department, as well as some of the inspectors, should be members of our civil service, . . . to show the importance we attach to the subject of education.’51 Regarding the grant-in-aid system to support mass education, the despatch stated that, it would ‘foster a spirit of reliance upon local exertions and combination for local purposes, which is of itself of no mean importance to the well-being of a nation.’ The grant-in-aid provided by the government ‘should not be in the form of simple contributions in aid of the general expenses of a school’ but in the form of ‘specific objects,’ except for the Normal Schools. It specified that grant-in-aid should be given ‘to all schools which impart a good secular education, provided that they are under adequate local management.’ To receive it, the managers of the schools ‘should agree for inspection and regulations by the government.’ The despatch opposed free education and insisted that the schools that would receive grant-in-aid should levy fees because ‘an entirely gratuitous education valued far less by those who receive it than one for which some payment is made.’ By implementing the grant-in-aid system, the directors stated that ‘we look forward to a time when any general system of education entirely provided by the government may be discontinued’ but at the same time stressed that ‘it is far from our wish to check the spread of education.’52 The proposal to establish the universities in Bombay, Calcutta, and Madras has been hailed as the most important aspect of the despatch. Such an idea originated not from the Court of Directors but from liberal British scholars and officers working in India. As early as 1838–1839, they had said that some of the students of Elphinstone College had intellectual capabilities that ‘were beyond what had been attained by any mathematical first class man at Oxford.’53 John Marshman, testifying before the Parliamentary Committee, insisted that ‘the natives exhibit great sharpness and great precocity of intellect. They have also very great powers of application, in many of those institutions, the youths have obtained an amount of knowledge which would not do discredit to some of the best institutions in this country.54 A concrete proposal to establish a university at Calcutta was sent by Charles Hay Cameron, the president of the Council of Education of Bengal. Testifying before the Parliamentary Committee, Cameron very strongly advocated the establishment of universities in India.55 The Despatch itself admitted that some years ago, we declined to accede to a proposal made by the Council of Education . . . a University in Calcutta. . . (which) took 218

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the London University as their model; and we agree with them that the form, government, and functions of that University.56 Even before Charles Wood drafted his despatch, a debate was raging in the Council of Education of Bengal as to the nature of the university that was going to be set up in Calcutta. In April 1854, T.I. Maude, the secretary to the Council of Education, opposed the conservative opinion that the Indian students in the Calcutta University should be conferred with only ‘diplomas’ and not ‘degrees’: If you give a high order of education in the arts, sciences and languages, if you add to it lectures on law and civil engineering, why deny to yourselves the distinction of university letters and honours, to which the students of every civilised country are entitled? These would be recognised in Europe and would be a passport to the best society here or abroad, where as your diplomas would be of no greater value than the present scholarship certificates.57 Wood’s Despatch ended this debate by suggesting that degrees should be conferred upon successful candidates. It enclosed the charters and regulations of the University of London to be followed in India. The reason for accepting its model was that, just as the University of London had affiliated the colleges belonging to various Christian denominations, So in India, institutions conducted by all denominations of Christians, Hindus, Muslims, Parsis, Sikhs, Buddhists, Jains, or any other religious persuasions, may be affiliated to the universities, if they are found to afford the requisite course of study, and can be depended upon for the certificates of conduct which will be required.58 The despatch specified that ‘the examinations for degrees will not include any subjects connected with religious belief’ but will comprise ‘Liberal Education, Law, Medicine, Civil Engineering, Sanskrit, Arabic and Indian Vernaculars.’59 The despatch explained that The candidates for university degrees will be supplied by colleges affiliated to the universities. The Hindoo, Hooghly, Dacca, Kishnaghur and Berhampur Government Anglo-Vernacular Colleges, the Sanskrit College, the Mahomedan Madrassas, the Parental Academy conducted by East Indians; Bishop’s College, the General Assembly’s Institution, Dr Duff’s College, the Baptist College at Serampore, and the Medical College, in Bengal; the Elphinstone Institution, the Poona College, and the Grant Medical College in 219

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Bombay; the Delhi, Agra, Benares, Bareilly and Thomason Colleges in the North-Western Provinces.60

Adoption of Wood’s Despatch Wood’s Despatch of 1854 made three important suggestions. It asked the government of India to fix a single nomenclature for the officers of the education department. It was done immediately. The Department of Education in the Presidencies and provinces was headed by the director of public instruction (DPI), followed by inspectors, deputy inspectors, and sub-deputy inspectors. Deputy inspectors in NWP were called ‘Pergunnah visitors.’ In Madras, 20 assistant inspectors, or ‘Zilla visitors,’ for the Department of Education were sanctioned.61 In 1855, Claudius James Erskine in Bombay; William Gordon Young in Bengal; Alexander Arbuthnot in Madras; H.S. Reid in NWP; and William Arnold in Punjab were appointed as the first directors of public instruction. The second recommendation of the despatch was the establishment of the universities in the three presidencies for awarding degrees in arts, medicine, law, and civil engineering. It was also done quickly. A bill for the establishment of a university at Calcutta was adopted in 1856.62 It was reported that at the entrance examination to the Calcutta university, held in March 1857, 162 candidates successfully passed the test, of whom 113 from government colleges and schools, 45 from institutions supported by individuals or associations, the remaining four being masters in government schools. At the examination held for degrees in April 1858, two degrees of B.A. were conferred, there having been 13 candidates. At the entrance examination held about the same time, 111 candidates out of 464 were admitted into the university.63 These examinations were held at a time when the Indian Revolt of 1857 was taking place a little over 300 miles away in Gaya. The government reported that The establishment of universities was not a measure per se to excite apprehension in the native mind. It did not bring any new principles into operation, being little more than an expansion of the arrangements which had for many years been in operation for testing the powers and attainment of the young men educated in the colleges and more advanced schools.64 The universities at Madras and Bombay were established in 1859, as higher education was less developed in those Presidencies. Bombay had Elphinstone College, while Madras had only a high school.65

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The third and the most important recommendation was its insistence on mass education by adopting the grant-in-aid system. It was opposed by the directors of the East India Company, as well as by the elitist British officials in India. The Court of Directors specifically told the government of Madras to introduce the ‘Hulkabandi system’ and immediately start the process in Rajmundry.66 The government of India sanctioned a Taluka school at Kambam. When the school was opened in 1856, ‘it had to be closed down within a few weeks as not a single boy came forward for admission.’67 Regarding the Bombay Presidency, the Court of Directors sternly opposed ‘the government bearing a considerable expense of each school and every new school becoming government school.’ They asked the governor to adopt the ‘Hulkabandi system.’68 The Court of Directors told the Bengal government ‘the attention should be seriously directed to the extension of the indigenous schools for the education of the lower classes.’ They favoured the extension of the ‘Hulkabandi system’ to other parts.’69 John Peter Grant, the Scottish governor of Bengal, rejected the suggestion to implement the Hulkabandi system. He even rejected the Minute by the governor-general dated 6 June 1854 which endorsed Montgomery and McLeod’s Education Minutes. Grant also opposed giving grant-in-aid to the missionaries: If private persons spend their own money in endeavouring by legitimate means to convert people of other religious persuasions, the people of India are not so intolerant as to question the right of such persons so to spend their money . . . but the case would be different if the public taxes which are paid by, and are held in trust for the use of the people of India, to be appropriated in aid of such conversion. . . . If the same policy is adopted at home, how would the Scotch feel, and how would they be likely to act, if Scotch taxes were spent upon propaganda missions in Scotland? It is a breach of religious neutrality.70 His successor, J. Halliday, had diametrically opposite idea. He refused to spend any money on schools which would contain lower classes. The use of the term ‘masses’ in Wood’s Despatch of 1854 was interpreted by some officials as teaching reading, writing and rudiments of learning to the poorest people of India: the hewers of wood and drawers of water over all this continent . . . is ‘absolutely visionary.’ It is more than has yet been attained in England, and it is more than the social and economic condition of India could for many a reason permit us to attain here, even if the Government had yet men and means to attempt it.71

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The lofty intention of Wood’s Despatch to introduce mass education through grant-in-aid was virtually made ineffective by the officials in Bengal, NWP, and Punjab. This, together with the drawback of the grant-in-aid system to address the poverty of a locality and marginalisation of its population, led to its failure. For instance, how would areas with untouchable and tribal populations raise 50 per cent of the resources to qualify for the government aid?

A.O. Hume’s school at Etawah Allan Octavian Hume (1829–1912) was the son of Joseph Hume, the radical Scottish member of British Parliament. He came to India as a civil servant in 1849. He was appointed joint magistrate and deputy collector of Etawah district in the NWP in 1854. As soon as Hume came to Etawah, the Hindus and Muslims of the district approached him to establish schools. Before Hume assumed the charge of the district, British officers were hostile to the idea of setting up of schools. In 1851, Visitor-General of Schools Henry Stuart Reid had reported that the people of Etawah were extremely ignorant and were not ready to send their children to school. The people of India cling with unreflecting reverence to the ‘bap dada ka dustur’, with whom ‘custom serves for reason’, have always regarded with blind distrust and suspicion, every scheme set on foot by government for their amelioration . . . people are suspicious of the government intentions. In parts of Etawah people thought that the children in schools would be offered up as ‘a propitiatory sacrifice’, after the completion of Ganga canal.72 When Reid wrote this, he had before him the details of 255 indigenous schools with 1,934 boys in Etawah district. There were 20 Anglo-vernacular schools with 956 boys in the entire region.73 Still, he argued that ‘the educational officers were thought as the emissaries of missionaries.’ He backed up his stories with a report by the collector of Etawah, G.M. Alexander. To argue his case further, Reid quoted from F. Hill’s work National Education: These poor people had been so little accustomed to see persons act from other than selfish motives, that they could not believe it possible, that anyone would come, and erect a large building at great cost and trouble to himself, merely from desire of promoting their good. They felt sure that all this outlay was not without some secret object. . . . the building was to be applied for the diabolical purpose of kidnapping the children and shipped off to some distinct land.74 Reid suggested to the government that ‘gaining confidence of the people is the first step. Our work is obstructed by unfounded prejudices of the 222

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people.’ He also suggested to the government not to appoint ‘the alumni of the government colleges . . . possessed of high scholastic attainments, as masters; appoint men of local influence, though not possessed of the same store of information and intellectual acquisition, would carry greater weight with the people.’75 Within three years of Reid’s report and recommendations, Hume came to Etawah and found unprecedented enthusiasm to acquire modern education. This shows the attitude of two officers. The people of the district formed a School Committee and made Hume its president. Luchman Sing; Dabee Pershaud; Ishree Pershaud; the Tahsildars of Etawah, Beyah, Lucknah, respectively, came forward to assist Hume in establishing the schools. Hume proposed the establishment of free elementary schools supported by a voluntary cess contributed by landowners. Within two months he established 32 schools within Etawah taluka. Soon, 181 schools were established throughout the district. People even opposed giving a holiday on Sunday with the following argument: ‘why our children should remain idle a whole day every week?’76 In 1856, Hume also established a Central English School at Etawah, and 104 boys joined immediately. This school taught English, Urdu, Hindi, Sanskrit, Arabic, Persian, mathematics, surveying, geography, history, and natural sciences. In January 1857, these 181 schools had 5,184 boys and two girls.77 The schools were so popular that men attended the public examination of their sons to monitor their progress. There was considerable rise in the enrolment of boys during the next four months, and on 1 May 1857, nine days before the outbreak of the Revolt of 1857, the number of boys exceeded 7,000.78 Luchman Sing assisted Hume in starting a vernacular newspaper called The People’s Friend. It was originally intended for children who were passing out of the schools in Etawah district, but soon people from other districts began to subscribe to it. Within four years, Hume made Etawah the most educationally advanced district in the NWP.79 When the Revolt of 1857 broke out, people helped Hume in an unprecedented way. Etawah and Hume were at the centre of the revolt and Hume fought two pitched battles with the rebel forces during May–June 1857. He raised an army of natives to fight the rebels.80 Hume wrote later that many of my native friends warmed themselves into the confidence of some amongst the sepoys. Lutchman Singh, Kanwar Zor Singh and Anup Singh voluntarily offered to escort all the European women and children to Agra fort. They with chivalrous courtesy and watchful care fulfilled their dangerous self imposed task. When the Gwalior Grenadiers mutinied, though they could have killed every one of us, harmed no hair of any man’s head; they only told us that they could no longer obey us . . . next morning allowed us all to ride quietly off through their lines.81 223

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When there were no Hume and British administration in Etawah, Kanwar Zor Singh, Jaswant Rao, Laik Singh, and Ganga Persad administered the district. During this period ‘a new police station was built, crime punished, a custom tax levied, the Abkari (liquor tax) settlement was made.’82 Throughout the revolt, 31 schools functioned normally, though there was no supervisory authority of Hume or the British government; the landlords paid the salaries of the teachers. In other places the schools were closed down only as a security measure.83 In July 1858, the remaining schools reopened even before Hume returned to the district in October. In spite of that, H.S. Reid accused Hume of working ‘against the government and his system of education was faulty and unpopular with the respectable classes.’ Hume reported that the decline in the number of zamindar’s sons was due to their unwillingness ‘in these troubled times to allow their children, most of whom habitually wear gold and silver ornaments to be absent from home.’84 The government warned Hume ‘not to employ the native agency for the promotion of education’ or ‘persuade the people to send their children to schools.’85 Hume did not heed the government circular and continued his work ‘to put within the reach of every talented lad, however poor, the attainment of a first rate of education.’86 Hume stressed that the foundation of any healthy and comprehensive scheme of education must be laid amongst the masses . . . Indian education, like French liberty . . . mere a show than a reality . . . I would care less about stately universities, while I would devote our chief care, our last energies, to sowing thickly, and widely through the land, good elementary schools for the people. . . . The object of education with which we have to deal is to prepare youth, first for the discharge of their duties as citizens, and second for the exercise of their functions, as producers, and enjoyers of wealth.87 The popularity of Hume’s educational policies can be judged by the fact that the Etawah School Committee not only collected subscriptions for repairing schools within the district but also contributed 5,500 rupees towards the rebuilding of Agra College, destroyed during the revolt. The people of Table 9.1  Students in Etawah schools before and after the Indian Revolt of 1857 Year

No. of Sons of Cultivators

No. of Sons of Zamindars

No. of Sons of Officials

No of Sons of Artisans

Total

1857 1859

1,631 1,932

1,342 758

366 283

873 966

4,212 3,939

Source: Mehrotra and Moulton, Selected Writings of Allan Octavian Hume, Vol I, 1829– 1867, 326.

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Etawah also made considerable financial contributions. ‘During May 1856 and May 1861, they contributed 60,000 rupees towards the salaries of the teachers, and maintenance of these schools and 50,000 rupees on school buildings.’ Hume personally made financial contributions to these schools. All these ‘schools had libraries with 50 to 200 books.’88 The boys from almost all castes attended the schools. By 1861, the number of schools had gone up to 185 with 8,700 boys, and the Central English School had 282 boys. Hume asked for government aid for this school. The local contribution for the high school was 263 rupees, 5 anna, and 11 pice, and Hume expected the government to pay the same amount under the grant-in-aid system. The school had a boarding house with 24 inmates, of whom 10 paid while 14 were free students. In February 1861, the lieutenant governor of the NWP visited the Etawah Central School and ‘found the institution sound.’ The School Committee asked for ‘aid to the high school,’ and ‘the lieutenant governor promised 10,000 rupees towards the completion of the building, equipment and 600 rupees per month towards the maintenance of the school and the libraries.’89 The news of the success of Hume reached London. Charles Wood suggested that ‘the Etawah Schools be handed over to the Education department when Hume finally leaves the district.’90 The success of the Etawah schools did not go down well with certain officials. George Cooper, the secretary to the government of the NWP, and H.S. Reid ‘saw deception in the exaggerated statements.’ But they could not do anything as long as Hume was in charge of the district. Towards the end of 1861, Hume left for England on leave, and Cooper and Reid ordered an enquiry. It was conducted by C.R. Pollack, the officiating collector of Etawah. Pollack found that most of the children came to school because ‘a chaukidar – guard used to collect the boys in the morning.’ He immediately ordered ‘removal of the services of the chaukidar; halted the expansion of buildings as there were not many students’; and reported that, when he inspected schools, the attendance was about 50 per cent of what was claimed by the committee and concluded that ‘this mode of deception is still in practice.’91 Pollack visited the schools in the first week of January 1862, when the extreme foggy winter in Northern India might have prevented regular attendance. The government also passed a resolution to test the competence of the students in various subjects and ordered that Etawah schools should not claim grant-in-aid.92 The annual report prepared by Reid mentions that ‘the average attendance for the province was 21.6, ranges from 4.7 in Seonee to 42.8 in Etawah.’93 So the low attendance in Etawah was still the highest in the province! When Hume came to know of these developments, he protested. Hume was removed from the district ‘in the interest of the public service.’94 While leaving Etawah he donated 7,200 rupees to the Central English School and invested in government bonds to cover the cost of maintenance and 225

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scholarship to poor students. After his departure, the government refused to convert it into a high school, which could have enabled the students to join Calcutta University. The school survived as a Zilla school. The schools appear to have produced some social effect. A public debate was organised by the Etawah Debating Club in 1868 to discuss ‘social vices and the hierarchal caste system.’ Deena Nath, an ex-student of Hume’s high school, discussed ‘the general degradation of the society and the miserable condition of women.’ Deena Nath advocated social reform to rectify the ills in the Hindu society. He was opposed by Tara Chand, who defended the caste system. The debate ended when Deena Nath told Tara Chand ‘I can give you argument, sir, but not brain.’ In the same meeting several members of the club opposed caste and religious divisions and suggested that ‘universal love as the sum and substance of true religion.’95 After leaving government service, Hume went on to establish the Indian National Congress in 1885 and dedicate the remaining part of his life and resources to the cause of India’s freedom struggle against British rule. When Hume died in England in 1912, the shops and markets were closed as a mark of respect in Etawah, and his school was remembered.96

The Revolt of 185797 The British attempt to strengthen the caste hierarchy was not limited only to education. It was followed in the recruitment policies of the army as well. The army of the pre-colonial rulers mostly comprised soldiers from nonBrahmin castes. They joined wars out of either loyalty to the local ruler or economic necessity. However, the British officers in Bengal and North India carefully recruited mostly Brahmins from the Awadh region for the Bengal army and gave them extraordinary ‘status and influence.’98 As the British geopolitical interest expanded beyond India, they realised their mistake. The Bengal army stationed at Barrackpore revolted in 1824 when they were ordered to go to Burma, as crossing the sea would compromise their caste status. This mutiny was ruthlessly suppressed.99 Now the British prohibited the recruitment of Brahmins in the army and began to promote other upper castes.100 After giving an exalted status to a group, it could not be withdrawn without creating anger and resentment. Auckland Colvin, whose father, John Russell Colvin, was lieutenant governor of Agra at the time of the revolt, admitted that the British had actively strengthened the caste hierarchy by encouraging the Brahmins to maintain their ‘pre-eminence in the public offices, in social life, and in the ranks of the army.’101 Charles Theophilus Metcalfe, the British officer in Delhi at the time of the revolt, called the soldiers of the Bengal army an ‘injudiciously pampered’ class.102 The expansionist policy of the British, particularly the Doctrine of Lapse initiated by governor-general Dalhousie, was another cause for the revolt. According to this policy, if any native king had no natural-born heir to the 226

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throne, his kingdom would lapse to the British. Similarly, those kings and Nawabs who had earlier lost their kingdom but had been compensated by pension would lose the pension if they had no natural heir. This provoked the local rulers, such as Nana Saheb and Lakshmi Bai, and landlords, such as Kuwar Singh, who stood to lose their privileges. The British annexation of Awadh in 1856 and the imprisonment of its popular king, Nawab Wajid Ali Shah, created widespread discontent among the people. In this annexation 87,000 persons lost their jobs.103 In Awadh, out of 35,174 villages, 23,522 villages were held as Talukdari villages, and they feared an increase in land revenue under the British.104 These powerful talukdars, who had private armies of their own, also feared losing their power. The final cause was the growing arrogance of the British officers in the Bengal army. In 1856, the British introduced Enfield rifles, which required that the cartridges had to be bitten off before being loaded. It was rumoured that they were greased with the fat of cows and pigs, and using them was considered against the Hindu and Muslim religion. When the Hindu and Muslim soldiers of the Madras army refused to use Enfield rifles, its commander, Patrick Grant, a Scottish officer, allowed the soldiers to use ghee (clarified butter) to lubricate their cartridges. However, in Meerut, when the native soldiers (sepoys) refused to use the same, they were arrested, court-martialled, shackled, and imprisoned.105 It was this ruthless public humiliation that sparked the revolt. The three native infantry regiments of the Bengal army shot dead their British officers on 10 May 1857, released imprisoned fellow soldiers from jail, and marched on to Delhi. After reaching Delhi, they captured the city and declared the Mughal emperor, Bahadur Shah Zafar, a pensioner of the East India Company, the emperor of India. Within no time large parts of North India was up in flames. More than 100,000 Indian soldiers participated in the revolt. The British army, comprising both European and Indian troops, took more than a year (10 May 1857–20 June 1858) that too at a considerable cost, to recapture the rebel-held areas.106

Educational institutions during the revolt The rebel soldiers attacked Delhi College and destroyed rare Arabic, Persian, and Sanskrit manuscripts. They killed its principal, J.H. Taylor, along with two English teachers, E. Roberts and R. Stewarts. The mathematics teacher, Ramchandra, managed to escape as he wore traditional dress.107 They also attacked Agra College, ransacked the library on 5 July, and destroyed rare Sanskrit and Persian manuscripts, as well as college records. The mathematics Professor Hubbard was killed on the same day. Four of the six Arabic and Persian teachers joined the rebels. The English teacher, Kalyan Singh, protected the students and the remaining staff, consisting of two English teachers, Salig Ram and Sheu Narayan; the mathematics 227

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teacher, Kanhiya Lal; the Sanskrit teachers, Chiranjiv and Heera Lal; the Hindi teachers, Manu Lal, Kesho Prasad, Chunnee Lal and Shunker Lal; the Persian teacher, Zamin Alee; the Urdu teacher, Faizullah Khan; the librarian, Nasir Khan; and clerk Mool Chand. After the British victories, a silver watch was presented to Kalyan Singh for keeping safe the students and staff during the revolt.108 British officials hated the English-educated Raja of Banaras for his reformist ideas but had to depend on him for protection and survival during the revolt. Other influential members of the city, such as Pundit Gokool Chand and Rao Deonarain Singh, supported the British and protected Christians.109 R.T.H. Griffith, a renowned Sanskrit scholar and principal of Banaras Sanskrit College, refused to abandon his collection of rare Sanskrit manuscripts and move to safety. He personally protected the college throughout the period with a gun by his side. He was assisted by two teachers, Mathura Prasad Misr and Shiv Shankar Singh. The college had 311 students, and of them 237 were in the English section.110 The Muzaffarnagar district was one of the worst-affected areas during the revolt; still, the people of Muzaffarnagar town opposed the rebels and successfully maintained their private English school. They protected J. W. Fallon, its headmaster, and W. Molesworth and Mahomed Hoosein, the assistant masters, from the rebels and ensured smooth working of the school.111 In Bihar, the only English school destroyed was at Gaya. The Muzaffarpur and Arrah schools were closed only for a short period – when the rebel armies passed through the town. A private English school at Bhagalpur with 50 students run by a teacher named Girdharee Lall, supported by the Maharaja of Bettiah and the Mission School, were not affected during the revolt. During this time, Syed Zainoodin Hossein, of Bhagalpur, collected subscriptions and established an English school at Madhepura.112 This was in direct contrast to the government claim that ‘English was not much appreciated in Bihar and particularly in Bhagalpur.’ In Munger there was a reduction of strength as many left the school to join the new school established by the Baptist missionaries. The English School at Purneah saw an increase in the number of students, and the one at Chota Nagpur functioned normally. In spite of this, A.S. Harrison, the inspector of schools, called the Chota Nagpur school a ‘failure’ and proposed to close it down as there was a ‘lack of the proper classes to fill the school.’ Harrison also admitted that people’s hostility was directed to the government-sponsored indigenous schools alone and not English schools. Shababad was a recruiting district for native soldiers and consequently hostile to the British administration. Yet the English school with its 30 students, along with its English headmaster, Godfrey, functioned normally. Harrison admitted that ‘I have urged its continuance, knowing that it serves in a measure to keep the minds of the town’s people quiet and will save an infinity of trouble hereafter.’113 The strength of the

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Hazaribagh English School rose from 48 to 72 and maintained 100 per cent attendance throughout the revolt. This was a free school where the children also got free books. Harrison expressed his displeasure over this and convinced local committee members Oakes and Davis to make the boys purchase books. Harrison admitted ‘there is no doubt that here as in Bengal the ultimate cry of the people will be for English education.’114 During the revolt, attempts to incite people in Patna failed, the city remained peaceful, and the high school functioned normally.115 In spite of this, Harrison abolished Patna High School and declared that ‘the school did not have a single individual of the higher classes. I was not sorry when this unhealthy development was cut off.’116 After the government closed down the school in April 1858, Syed Latif Ali contributed 1,000 rupees to establish a private English school. A quarter of its students were Muslims, and the remaining ones were Hindus and native Christians.117 During the same period, the number of English schools in Bengal went up from 270 to 304.118

Modern education as the cause for the revolt Though there were social, economic and political causes, and most of the rebel soldiers were illiterate, the British elites found the revolt as an excuse to attack the introduction of English education in India. G.R. Clerk, now the secretary to the India Board in London, submitted a memorandum which blamed English education as the sole cause responsible for the revolt. He asserted that he had a ‘strong reason to suspect that some highly educated Bengali had aided and instructed our sepoys.’119 Since the government had not established any English schools in the NWP, Clerk singled out the missionaries for his attack. He criticised those who ‘possessed little of his judgement, and foresight; became eager not only teach the natives to babble English, but indulged in visions of thus speedily converting the heathen.’120 Clerk called the grant-in-aid system a ‘reckless’ one which had ‘enabled the missionaries to take undue advantage’ leading an ‘extensive dislike of our rule, a dread of our alleged intention to convert our subjects to Christianity, which is a wide spread and genuine dread.’ He called on the government of India to stop grant-in-aid and close down the missionary schools.121 Otherwise, he warned that ‘a blow will be struck at our power in India, which in the course of time may prove fatal.’122 The reality was that, as early as 1842, a general order was issued prohibiting the employment of clergymen in connection with education in India. Grant-in-aid had not been extended to the NWP and Bihar, where the revolt had taken place. In Bengal Presidency, 202 schools received grant in aid during 1856–1857 to the extent of 6,609 rupees a month. Of them, 183 were maintained by Indians, 19 by missionaries, and the remaining two by

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Eurasians.123 All these aided schools were in Bengal, which remained peaceful. The lieutenant governor of Bengal, Halliday, opposed Clerk. In most missionary schools, for every Christen boy, there are at least three to four Hindu boys. By not extending grant-in-aid to the missionary school, the government is withholding aid to other Hindu boys. Hindu parents do not fear conversion hence the missionary schools are crowded with Hindu boys. To exclude the missionary schools from the general benefit of grant in aid is all together unintelligible. This is to be more Hindu than the Hindus themselves. Most of the teachers appointed in the missionary schools are Hindus. In many schools there is not a single Christian boy and all students are Hindus.124 This was demonstrated by the fact that, within a year of the revolt, the Hindus and Muslims of Munger in Bihar collected subscriptions and handed them over to the missionaries to establish an orphanage.125 If one takes missionary schools as a variable, the revolt took place in exactly those areas where their presence was the least. In the Madras Presidency, which remained loyal to the British, one in 528 boys of school-going age was in a mission school, with a total of 44,089 boys; in the NWP, it was one in 3,380 boys, with a total of 8,953; and in Awadh, it was one in 19,750 boys, with a total of 405 boys.126 So if the native soldiers thought that the British ‘were tricking them out of their caste,’ they referred to the greased cartridges and certainly not the missionary schools. Clerk criticised liberal British officers for teaching ‘the natives to babble in English’ and the students of Elphinstone College ‘who could not spell or write two consecutive lines of English correctly.’127 He also criticised the liberal British officers for encouraging girls’ education.128 He emphatically told the British government that ‘it seems to be an absolute waste of time to seek for any other causes of the prevailing disaffection in India,’ and the only reason for the revolt was ‘their (natives) feelings outraged on very tender points affecting their religion and their veiled daughters.’129 Clerk argued that, by giving education to the poor, they were ‘depriving Indian gentlemen of their influence and authority . . . the respect of the ryots.’ He also emphasised that ‘people are so poor that for the most part they have scarce a waking moment between labour and starvation, a foreign language which is to them most difficult one, must end in failure and resentment.’130 The former governor-general of India, now the president of the Board of Control, Ellenborough, forwarded Clerk’s memorandum to the chairman and deputy chairman of the Court of Directors and laid it before the British Parliament, stating that ‘Clerk has brought together much valuable information with respect to the real character and effect of our educational system.’ Supporting Clerk, Ellenborough stressed that ‘in 230

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the NWP the government should not aid schools unless there should be an unmistakable desire on the part of the principal land-owners.’ He further emphasised that if we give a high degree of mental cultivation to the labouring classes while we left the wealthier in ignorance, the result would not create a healthy society. . . . Education and civilisation may descend from higher to the inferior classes, and so communicated may impart new vigour to the community, but they will never ascend from lower classes to those above them; they can only, if imparted solely to the lower classes, lead to general convulsion, of which foreigners would be the first victims. If we desire to diffuse education, let us endeavour to give it to the higher classes first. There are two ways of doing it; – by founding colleges to which the higher classes alone should be admitted, and by giving, in the re-organisation of the army Commissions at once to such sons of native gentlemen as may be competent to receive them. . . . I should recommend that, without the clearest evidence of the wish of the land-holders, and of the people, the connection between our government and the schools should not be restored.131 The Court of Directors accepted the memorandum in its entirety and directed the government of India ‘not to grant public money to English schools.’132

Change in the administration The revolt of 1857 ended the administration of the East India Company, and the British Crown took over administration on 2 August 1858. Instead of the Court of Directors, a Secretary of State for India – a cabinet minister – was put in charge. This transfer of power from the hands of a joint stock company to the British government did not bring about any drastic change in the field of education, as both were dominated by the British aristocracy. The new administration called educational experiments ‘a failure.’133 It lauded the Halkabandi system and proposed to extend it to Bengal. It endorsed Thomason’s plan of ‘the voluntary consent of the landowner was prescribed as an indispensable part of the establishment of the education system in any locality.’134 The government established separate schools for the children of big landlords (talukdars) and attempted to limit the admission of even upper-caste children from an impoverished background. It also adopted Clerk and Ellenborough’s recommendations and explicitly stated that the future education policy would ensure that the upper classes of the native society shall have the means of obtaining education in accordance with the idea of modern civilisation 231

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and of the best attainable quality . . . so on to fit them to maintain their natural position and to enjoy their rightful share in the Government of the country. This should constantly be born in mind in framing or dispensing any scheme of education.135 So the elitist educational ideas continued unabated under the British government. Though the talukdars actively took part in the revolt, they got back all the privileges they had lost, and the government established special schools for them. DPI Kempson admitted that the ‘Talukdars were surprised by such treatment.’136 So the change in the administration made very little difference to the education policy. At the height of the revolt, a British officer reported that ‘our schools are absolutely the most popular of all the institutions in which government has any share. The police are detested, the courts hated, and the survey dreaded.’137 During the revolt, the English schools were protected by the people even when the British administration had disappeared, and under the restored Mughal rule, the English educated had few privileges and faced much hostility. So aspiring for jobs by acquiring English was out of the question. This demonstrates that it was a love of knowledge and not just ­economic aspirations that sustained them. Finally, support to English ­education in India had been attributed to middle-class aspirations. The socio-economic background of the children in the English schools reveals that the majority of them, in some schools all of them, came from the lower strata of society. This shows that the poor and the lower castes could equally have love of knowledge.

Notes 1 Returns to the House Commons 1854, paragraphs 13–14. Henceforth Wood’s Despatch. 2 Naik, ‘Dharmavivechan,’ 62–70. 3 O’Hanlon, Caste Conflict and Ideology, 109–119. 4 Report of the Board of Education 1850, 13, letter from the governor of Bombay to the Board of Education of 24 April 1850. 5 Report of the Board of Education 1850, 11. 6 Ibid. 7 Ibid, 15. 8 Returns to the House of Commons 1859, Vol. III, Valavekar to Falkland dated 16 December 1853, 51–52. 9 Ibid, suggested place for the school was called Trimbakji Denglias Topkhana, Nana Moroji to E.C. Jones, the Collector of Poona, dated 9 June 1854, 52–53. 10 Ibid, Bombay government to the Society for Promoting the Education of Mahars and Mangs Poona dated 26 May 1855, 59. 11 Ibid, Nana Moroji to E.C. Jones, the Collector of Poona dated 9 June 1854, 52–53. 12 Ibid, letters from R. White 17 March 1855 and C.J Erskine, 8 May 1855.

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13 The list of active members and native contributors was as follows: Moro Raghunath, Nana Moroji, Wamunrao Jugganath, Gopalrao Hurry, Bapoorowji Manday, Vishnoo Moreshwar, Vishnoo Parushram, Krishnarao Witthal, Bhaskar Damodar, Mahadev Govind, Sakharam Balkrishna, Raghoba Pandoorang, Babaji Munajee, Venack Bapoojee, Widhyadhur Parushram, Ballarum ­Ramchunder, Professor Krishna Shastree, Professor Kero Lakshman, Nana Shastree Aptay, Krishnarao Sudasheo, Razarum Ootumram, Gunpet Shreekrishn, Gunnesh Wittul, Amritrao Shreeput, Kesheo Sheoram, Atmaram Vennect, Sakharam Yeshwunt, Vishnoo Shastree Pundit, Deorao Krishnajee, Ballajee Mahdev, Ramchunder Venktesh, Govend Gunnesh Khuray, Govind Ramakrishn, Sakaharam Ramchunder, Waman Gopal Kanay, Shreekrishan Baboodeo, Bulwant Gungadhar, Narayen Bujaji, Abba Saheb Patwardhan, A Parsee Friend, Dr Bhaoo Dajee. Returns to the House of Commons 1859, Vol III, 536–537. The editors of ­Vurtman Deepika, Sumitra and Bodhamrit newspapers also supported the cause. Ibid, 535. 14 Returns to the House of Commons 1859, Vol. III, 532–535. 15 Ibid, Petition by Erloo, son of Narayan, dated 18 June 1856, 263. Other official documents mention the boy’s name as Eitoo bin Narayen, or Eitoobur Narrayen. 16 Ibid, F.B. Baker’s letter dated 7 June 1856, 264. 17 Ibid, DPI’s letter dated 13 June 1856, 264. 18 Ibid, DPI’s letter dated 10 July 1856, 265. 19 Ibid, Bombay government to DPI, dated 1 August 1856, 265. 20 Education, No. 3, To the Court of Directors of the East India Company from the governor-general in Council dated 20 May 1857. 21 Education, 2 July 1858, No. 5. 22 Ibid, 9 July 1858 No. 1. 23 Report of the DPI, Bombay, 1856–57, 93–94. 24 Ibid, 94. 25 Report on Public Instruction for 1854–55, 13–14. 26 Education, 5 February 1858, 9–12. 27 Education, 5 February 1858, 9–12. 28 Education, 9 July 1858, No. 1. 29 General Department 23 of 1849, On the subject of the establishment of schools in Scinde (Sindh). 30 Parliamentary Branch, 1857–58, Vol. 42, Minute by Robert Montgomery, 7 March 1853, 45–48. 31 Education, 20 May 1859, Nos, 7–11. 32 Richey, Educational Records, 282. 33 Parliamentary Branch, 1857–58, vol. 42, Report by D. F. McLeod, 17 December 1853, 49–71. 34 Allender, Ruling Through Education, 8. 35 Report by the Punjab Provincial Committee, 1884, 3–4. 36 Arnold’s Second Report, 25 June 1858, Richey, Selections, 300–303. 37 Ibid, State of Education Prior to 1854, 282. 38 Report of the Indian Education Commission, 107. 39 Richey, Educational Records, Arnold’s First Report, 279. 40 East India Company Papers – Correspondence relating to the Despatch of 19 July 1854, 23. 41 McCully, English Education, 133–135. 42 Moore, Sir Charles Wood’s Indian Policy, 2. 43 Parliamentary Papers, vol. 29, 44. 44 Ibid, 2–3.

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5 Wood’s Despatch, paragraphs 2–4. 4 46 Ibid, paragraphs-8–9. 47 Ibid, paragraphs-13–14. 48 Ibid, paragraphs-16 and 46. 49 Ibid, paragraphs-92–93. 50 Ibid, paragraphs- 96–97. 51 Ibid, paragraph-21. 52 Ibid, paragraph-52–62. 53 Board Collection, No. 79939, James Bird, Secretary College Council to W. B. Bruce, Senior Member of College Council, 28 January 1840, and 27 August 1838 from Secretary Elphinstone College to the Secretary to government. 54 Parliamentary Papers, vol. 29, 25. 55 Cameron, An Address to Parliament, 174. Cameron as the President of the Board of Education Bengal during 1843–1848 was at loggerheads with both Ellenborough and Hardinge. 56 Wood’s Despatch, paragraphs 24–27. 57 Bengal General, Nos. 109–110, Maude to Cecil Beadon, 3 April 1854. 58 Wood’s Despatch, paragraph-28. 59 Ibid, paragraphs 29–32. 60 Ibid, paragraph-32. 61 Canning to the Court of Directors 26 January 1856, Education, Letters to Court of Directors 1857, No. 3. 62 A Bill to Establish and incorporate a university at Calcutta, 6 December 1856. Returns to the House of Commons 1859 Part II, 525–527. 63 Returns to the House of Commons 1859 Part I, Despatch to India, 7 April 1859, 31. 64 Ibid, 40. 65 Ibid, 32. 66 Parliamentary Papers on Indian Affairs, 1857–58, Vol. 42, Court of directors to the government of Madras 8 May 1855, 35–36. 67 Report on Public Instruction for 1856–57, 26. 68 Parliamentary Papers on Indian Affairs, 1857–58, Vol. 42, Court of Directors to Bombay 10 December 1856, 40–43. 69 Ibid, 6–10. 70 Ibid, Minute by J.P. Grant, 12 October 1854, 79–81. Grant was born and raised in London. His father was a Scottish highlander from Inverness Shire. 71 Education, 20 May 1859, Nos 7–11, Minute by the lieutenant governor of Bengal F.J. Halliday, 24 March 1859. 72 General Report on Public Instruction in the North Western Provinces 1850–51, Reid, to J. Thornton, Secretary to govt of NWP, 10 October 1851 3–6. VisitorGeneral was analogous to the Inspector of Schools. 73 Reid, Report on Indigenous Education in the NWP, 1851, 11. 74 Ibid. 75 Ibid. 76 Mehrotra and Moulton, Selected Writings, 358. 77 Wedderburn, Allan Octavian Hume, 16. 78 Mehrotra and Moulton, Selected Writings, 324. 79 Education, the government of NWP to the government of India, 15 February 1861, Nos. 1–3 A. 80 Wedderburn, Hume, 8–13. 81 Mehrotra and Moulton, Selected Writings, 98–99. 82 Ibid, 101–102. 83 Ibid, 360.

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84 Ibid, 326. 85 Wedderburn, Hume, 18. 86 Mehrotra and Moulton, Selected Writings, 83. 87 Ibid, 349. 88 Education, 11 March 1861, 1–3 A, Allan Hume to Secretary to Government of NWP, 22 July 1861. 89 Education, 11 March 1861, 1–3 A, Government of NWP to Government of India, 15 February 1861. 90 Education, 27 September 1861, No. 5. 91 Education, 3 February 1862, No. 1, Pollack’s report quoted by G. Cooper, Secretary to Government of NWP to H.S. Raid, DPI 13 January 1862. 92 Education, 10 April 1862, 6–7, Government Resolution NWP. 93 Education, 18 July 1868, No. 1. Report of H.S. Reid reproduced in A.M. Monteath, Note on the State of Education in India 1862, 54. 94 Wedderburn, Allan Octavian Hume, 35–36. 95 Education Proceeding, July–December 1868, 872. 96 The Leader, 31 August 1912, Letter by Zorawar Singh Nigam, the Municipal Commissioner of Etawah. 97 An elaborate version of this part was published in Pedagogica Historica titled ‘Modern Education and the Revolt of 1857 in India,’ 25–42. Used with permission. 98 Dasgupta, ‘The Rebel Army in 1857,’ 1729–1733. 99 Bandyopadhyay, ed., ‘Eighteen Fifty-Seven and Its Many Histories,’ 3. 100 Board Collections, No. 60204, George Moor to Colonel J.R. Lumbey, 6 November 1834, Government of India to J.R. Lumbey, 2 December 1834, Mason, A Matter of Honour, 261. 101 Colvin, John Russell Colvin, 162. 102 Metcalfe, Two Native Narratives of the Mutiny in Delhi, 5. 103 Husain, Religion and Ideology of the Rebels of 1857, 8. 104 Metcalf, Land, Land Lords and the British Raj, 31. 105 Watson, The Great Indian Mutiny, 39–43. 106 See Pati, ed., The 1857 Rebellion, Bandyopadhyay, ed., 1857: Essays from Economic and Political Weekly. 107 Education, 28 September 1858, Nos. 7–9, Reid to William Muir, Secretary to the Government of NWP. 108 Ibid. 109 Kaye, A History of the Great Revolt, Vol. II, 230–231, 681. 110 Education, 28 September 1858, Nos. 7–9, From Reid, to Muir. 111 Ibid. 112 Report of A.S. Harrison – 1857–58, 135–139. 113 Ibid, 136. 114 Ibid, 141–154. 115 Education, 4 March 1859, 6–7, Chapman, to W. Gordon Young, 30 November 1858. 116 Report of Harrison 1857–58, 131–132. 117 Harrison to W. Gordon Young, 23 August 1860, Education 23 October 1860, Nos. 5–7. 118 Report on Public Instruction 1858–59, Henry Woodrow, the inspector of schools east Bengal, to W.N. Lees, the officiating DPI, 24 August 1859, 12. 119 Report of the Director of Public Instruction, Bombay 1857–58, Memorandum by G.R. Clerk, 29 March 1858, 15. 120 Ibid, 14.

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121 Ibid, 15. 122 Ibid, 17. 123 Education, 21 January 1859, No. 11–13. 124 Education, 13 January 1860, 1–3 A, Minute by Halliday, 19 November 1858. 125 Education, 5 November 1861, 3–10G.V. Yule, Commissioner to the Government of Bengal, 3 August 1860. 126 Education, 14 May 1858, 16–17. 127 Report of the Director of Public Instruction, Bombay 1857–58, Memorandum by G.R. Clerk, 21–23, 128 Ibid, 18–19. 129 Ibid, 24–28. 130 Ibid, 26. 131 Report of the Director of Public Instruction, Bombay 1857–58, Letter from Lord Ellenborough to the Court of Directors, 28 April 1858, 9–13. 132 Education, 30 July 1858, No. 3–4, Despatch from the Court of Directors, 26 May 1858. 133 Memorandum on the Improvements, 76–79. 134 Returns to the House of Commons 1859Part I, Educational Despatch to India, 7 April 1859, 34. 135 Education, 19 June 1863, Nos. 12–16. 136 Ibid, M. Kempson DPI NWP to the Secretary to Government NWP, 19 November 1862, Metcalf, Land, Landlords, 187. 137 Education, 24 August 1859, No. 5.

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10 CONCLUDING OBSERVATIONS Addressing the myths

If ever there was a case to which the asking for bread and giving a stone is applicable, it is our education policy. – Charles Trevelyan, 18331

A comprehensive analysis of the historical documents shows that the colonial state neither introduced nor imposed English education on Indians. It diverted the funds earmarked for education by the British Parliament. In fact, Indian education came up for discussion and half-hearted efforts were made by the British only at the time of the renewal of the Charter of the East India Company in 1813, 1833, and 1853. The elitist British officials fabricated reports to discredit Indians as ‘uncivilised’ and ‘immoral.’ The British aristocracy argued that only the Brahmins and Muslim elites should be educated because ‘the light must touch the mountain tops before it could pierce to the levels and depths.’2 The Indian Education Commission in 1882 admitted that ‘the theory of downward filtration obtained complete ascendency.’3 Yet the Commission attributed the ‘downward filtration theory’ to people like T.B. Macaulay and Thomas Erskine Perry for their advocacy of English education for all sections of the society.4 This shows that the elites could create and perpetuate the narratives and successfully project them on to their opponents. The narratives of the British aristocracy were effectively countered by the Scotsmen in India. While Cornwallis and Minto declared that Indians were inherently corrupt, Alexander Duncan Campbell testified before the British Parliament that ‘the natives have a very high sense of honour . . . their traders are also most industrious and honourable set of dealers.’5 The archival records clearly show the role of Scottish officers and civilians in promoting modern or English education. The list of those who advocated modern education and helped Indians to acquire it are all Scots beginning with Charles Grant, his two sons Charles and Robert Grant, David Drummond, David Hare, William Fraser, Alexander Duff, Thomas Munro, John

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Malcolm, Robert Shortrede, Alexander Duncan Campbell, Thomas Babington Macaulay, Charles Hay Cameron, Thomas Erskine Perry, John Peter Grant, and Allan Octavian Hume. The only a few non-Scots to support the introduction of modern education were Francis Warden, Charles Trevelyan, and Alexander Arbuthnot. Trevelyan was Cornish and Arbuthnot was Irish, while the roots of Francis Warden are difficult to trace. Without the intervention from these people, modern education and English language would not have been introduced in India. This shows that the powerful colonial state was not a monolithic structure during the first half of the nineteenth century and that Scotsmen and British liberals, though employees of the colonial administration, could effectively challenge it. However, the Scottish aristocrats, such as the Elphinstones, behaved exactly like their English counterparts. The colonial state projected Indians as ‘ignorant and immoral’ and emphasised the need to discipline and civilise them through ‘a dread of the punishments prescribed by their religion.’6 This amounts to racial arrogance. If providing wide access in schools and inclusive classrooms are hallmarks of being civilised, the indigenous vernacular schools which included the low caste and poor students and teachers across India and even untouchable teachers and students in Bengal, were far more progressive than the colonial state that openly opposed the admission of both the poor upper-caste as well as all lower-caste children. The numerous petitions ‘on behalf of the natives of the district’ or the ‘natives of the Presidency’7 show that Indians did not give undue importance to caste or religion in the field of vernacular and English education. We know that they were Brahmins, non-Brahmins, and Muslims from their signatures. None of them mention their caste or religious identity or ask for special favours. This shows that Indians had a sense of civil society as we understand today or that it was at least in the process of being formed and was consciously thwarted by the colonial state, which strictly classified and dealt with Indians only on the basis of caste or religion. The colonial state actively promoted and privileged Brahmins and elite Muslims against all other sections of the Indian population. A widely held myth attributes Indian aspiration for modern education essentially to acquire clerical jobs in the colonial administration. In the government offices, confidential and important information passes through the hands of clerks, and the colonial state did not trust the Indians with such sensitive positions. In fact clerks recruited for the Indian government were all British or Eurasians. Mountstuart Elphinstone admitted before the British Parliamentary Committee that ‘the half castes (Eurasians) are almost universally servants of the company as clerks.’8 After Thomas Munro appointed Indians as civil judges (munsifs) and T.B. Macaulay appointed them as his colleagues in the GCPI, a few Indians came to be appointed as civil judges and deputy collectors. Such positions were very few. Moreover, 238

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except for the governor-general and a few very senior British officials, all others had very high proficiency in at least one Indian language.9 The myth of ‘English educated native clerks’ emerged because of the fact that the pundits and kazis in the courts were referred to as ‘court clerks.’ The assistants to the accountants and revenue officials were also called clerical staff. None of these positions required knowledge of the English language.10 There were always a few exceptions. Some Scottish officers had Indian staff. Francis Warden, too, had Indian staff.11 But in most cases the clerks were either Europeans or Eurasians. How many English-educated Indians actually aspired for the government jobs is another question. Even after Munro and Macaulay began the process of appointing Indians to higher positions which required English fluency, the colonial state was often frustrated by the fact that not many natives opted for government service. In Bombay Presidency, out of 900 boys who passed out of the schools during 1824–1836, only 86, or less than 10 per cent, opted for government employment.12 Even in the Bombay Engineering College, ‘after passing the examination, many of the students refused government appointment.’ The government regretted that it ‘had no legal authority to enforce it.’13 This was the trend across India. Even the Government of India Resolution of 1844 failed to inspire the English-educated Indians to take up government appointments.14 During 1830–1853, not a single boy from the English Department of the Banaras Sanskrit College applied for government jobs.15 This does not mean that no Indian aspired for jobs within the British administration; a few English-educated Indians did join the administration, but their number was small in comparison to the total number of those who aspired for English education. It was the British elites who attributed job motive to Indian’s desire for knowledge. After the end of the Company’s rule the British Crown took over administration in 1858 and began expanding the educational infrastructure. In 1860, Macaulay’s Indian Penal Code was adopted and the judiciary was expanded; the establishment of the universities led to a further increase in job opportunities in higher education. Following this, Indians began to take up jobs as teachers, educational inspectors, lawyers, and judges. Even here, most of the college graduates opted to be either teachers or lawyers, and very few entered direct administration.16 Even if the argument is accepted that Indians aspired for ‘clerical posts’ in the administration, which made them take up English education, why did they not study the simple English and arithmetic that were the requirement for clerical posts, instead of clamouring to study ‘Shakespeare, Milton, Bacon, Euclid, algebra, Differential and Integral calculus, Trigonometry, Astronomy, Political Economy, History and Geography’?17 These were not required for clerkships or any other jobs available to Indians up to 1860. The Indians who aspired for modern education did not aspire for a limited knowledge of the English language but for new knowledge. They clearly 239

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saw new knowledge as an addition to their existing stock of knowledge. People who had studied various Indian philosophies ranging from atheism to monotheism in indigenous Sanskrit schools could easily show enthusiasm for engaging with modern philosophies of the West, and those who had appreciated Sanskrit, Persian and vernacular literature could easily appreciate Homer and Milton. Similarly, the boys who studied Arithmetic in indigenous vernacular schools could easily appreciate Algebra. The educational reports clearly state that young boys from indigenous schools could master algebra and Euclid within a year of joining modern schools.18 According to Surendranath Banerjea, it was intellectual curiosity that prompted Indians to aspire for modern education: We are essentially intellectual people. Writers and speakers have again and again laid stress upon this trait of our mental constitution. There is, indeed an innate in us, a deep, passionate hankering after knowledge, in whatever shape and in whatever form, it may happen to be presented to us. . . . William Digby has likened this passion of ours to the intense curiosity, characteristic of the Athenians of old times.19 This intellectual curiosity was observed by Baptist missionary Marshman as early as 1819, when he stated that ‘to the mind of a Hindu youth knowledge is as grateful as pleasant food to the palate.’20 Around this time Robert May, too, observed a similar characteristic in his students. He wrote, ‘Did you see their eagerness, when the boys receive a new painted board, to read and learn what is painted, you would indeed rejoice.’21 The perceptions about modern education can also be inferred from students’ essays. An essay written by a 15-year-old boy named Shiva Shuhagar (Sagar) from Banaras College points to a similar conclusion. He had studied in the English section for only five years. The boy was fascinated by steam boats, telescopes, and the microscope but did not limit the definition of education to technological innovations. He included weaving and printing as a part of education. He summed up his feelings in the following way: Education is the grand source of knowledge, and the means which enlightens the human understanding, raise their character, and leads them to form good habits: not only this, but as man is born without ideas, and as all ideas are impressions on the brain from external objects received and communicated by our senses, we are certainly the creatures of education.22 The boy further argued that ‘education has the power to rectify erroneous opinions and secures us from the miserable effects of indolence and

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ignorance.’ His appreciation of modern education did not extend to everything British. He wrote that the English who were at one time a rude and barbarous people, offered human sacrifice, wore skins of beasts for raiment, fed only on such flesh as were procured by the chase, and in short guided entirely by the priestcrafts of Druids, have now through the benign effects of education become the masters of almost all the known world.23 Shuhagar submitted his essay for an annual essay competition. It did not show the British in glowing terms, and the GCPI members opposed giving a prize to it. But Macaulay went ahead and selected it for the first prize and even doubled the prize money from 25 to 50 rupees.24 Even 15 year-old teenage boys were capable of critical thinking and had the courage to point out that power to rule was not inherent among the British; they owed it to modern education, and the same modern education would give India a promising future. These young boys were affected by poverty, misery, and degradation which were prevalent at that time. They were moved by intense patriotism to improve and modernise the country. Another essay, by a student of Delhi College named Umed Singh, clearly demonstrates this: When we look at our own country, how can we avoid being touched with a sensation of regret and pity? While other nations provide foreign countries with innumerable useful things, the inhabitants of India are unable to supply their own wants.25 Umed Singh stressed that ‘education is the art of cultivating the mind and of rectifying the affections of the heart . . . a man without education . . . can do good neither to himself nor to the society he lives in. He can neither be religious nor virtuous.’ It is possible that Umed Singh came from an impoverished background. The following paragraph points out to this conclusion. Education makes us superior to the wealthy as well as to the great, for it is clear that he who is well educated is wise, and a wise man is everywhere appreciated. In the societies of the great and in the assemblies of the people, a wise man is always looked up to; his advice is, heeded, his opinion is asked and he is able to speak even upon some doubtful questions. Indeed it is true that a wealthy man has an upper hand in some pecuniary matters but an educated man is possessed of an inexhaustible treasure of intellectual riches. The former has a purse filled with gold, but the latter has a mind stored with knowledge.26

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Indians aspired for modern or English education for multiple reasons. The leading ones were intellectual curiosity, the desire to reform their society, and the desire to improve their country. There were also a few who aspired for jobs. As a result, all sections of the society, in both urban and remote rural areas, exhibited a ‘morbid craving after English.’27

Report card of the East India Company, 1757–1858 After one hundred years of the EIC’s rule, after drafting over one hundred Education Minutes, after making grand announcements and passing the Government of India Resolutions – what was the actual achievement with regard to the introduction of modern education? The following Table 10.1 is a clear indicator. In 1859, the colonial government claimed that it had ‘13 government colleges with 1,909 students, four aided colleges with 878 students, 74 superior government schools with 10,989 students, 209 aided schools of the same or somewhat lower grade with 16,956 scholars, 25 normal schools with 2,241 students, 16 colleges for special subjects with 1154 students.’ Of these, except the 25 normal schools (teacher training schools), and 16 colleges for special subjects, the rest appear to be what Bhudev Mukhopadhyay, the first Indian education inspector, later called ‘mere paper statistics.’28 Terms like ‘superior, higher class, government vernacular, Halkabandi, Tahsili, circle schools’ are ambiguous. Most of them were essentially single-teacher indigenous Pathsalas following indigenous curriculum with attendance registers and a small salary.29 Only the high schools have been taken into consideration as they taught modern sciences, mathematics, and English which enabled the students to aspire for higher education. A critical historical enquiry and analysis of the available educational data show what Alexander Duff accurately observed in the 1830s: that ‘English education was in a manner forced upon the British government; it did not itself spontaneously originate it.’30 The historical data clearly shows that the colonial state had no project of imposing English on India. It can be called an Indian project to acquire English language and master modern subjects to improve and modernise India. The government’s insistence on limiting education to rich upper-caste children and deny access to schools to poor upper-caste and all lower-caste children was not an isolated instance. It was constant, consistant and emphasised virtually in every communication among the officials. The colonial education system during 1780–1860 was guided by three important aspects – the Indian insistence on English education, the Scottish defiance of imperial agenda, and the English obsession with strengthening the Indian caste system and a complete denial of English language and modern education to Indians.

242

2,39,591

1,41,746

1,42,043

Bengal

Madras

Bombay

1 (1835 Macaulay’s Patna High school. Closed in 1838, reopened by C.H. Cameroon in 1844, closed in 1858)

Modern educational institutions established by the government 4 Presidency (1816) Dacca, (1841) Behrampore (1853) Kishnaghur, (1846)* All taken over in 1855 1(1836) 1(1858)

1(1835) 1(1856)

Medical Engineering College College

79 high schools of them 47 Indian 32 Missionary, in addition to numerous primary schools. All together they had 10,000 students 650 primary, 50 missionary secondary schools, 12 Indian secondary schools.

Modern educational institutions Private

(Continued)

19 secondary 84 1 (1845) Attempted to (Estb.1823 closed primary schools shut down by natives, 127 down 1830) all 8 high missionary (Re-estb. 1845 schools, saved schools, most closed down by Thomas 1847, Proposed of them with Erskine Perry secondary again in 1851 classes. but undecided of its location in 1857)

101 Munro Schools (in addition to number of Indian schools)

NA

Private educational No of schools institutions closed down by taken over by government government

0 1(the government 1 Presidency College supported (claimed to have Triplicane been established Madrassa of in 1841, actually the Nawab of began to function Arcot) as a high school in 1853) 4 schools (1853-54) 1 Elphinstone 1 1 College (1835 Poona Sanskrit Poona government established College school. Began as an English by people of Bombay) class at Sanskrit College, later bifurcated.

5 (Calcutta, Bhagalpur Jaunpur, Murshidabad Madrassas, and Calcutta Sanskrit College)

Area Madrasa, conquered Sanskrit colleges in square miles

Provinces

Table 10.1  The Report Card of the EIC 1858–59

8,17,394

Total

10

10

1 Bareilly 3 (Agra 1824, (Macaulay’s Delhi 1825 school 1837, Arabic/Persian saved by Nawab Colleges, of Rampur) Banaras Sanskrit College destroyed by the rebels in 1857 1791) 0 2 (Krishna Rao’s Sagar school estb 1820s, Macaulay’s Jabalpur school 1837) 0 0 0 0

Modern educational institutions established by the government

5

0 0

113

0 0

4

0 0

3

0 0

0

2 Sagar and Jabalpur Schools

0

0

10 8 Macaulay’s 1 (1855) 1 (1846) schools, 2 by Indians

Medical Engineering College College

0

Private educational No of schools institutions closed down by taken over by government government

No data 10 Missionary schools 1,083 + more

2 Nagpur and Jabalpur Missionary schools

27 missionary and 25 Indian schools

Modern educational institutions Private

* The government, after taking over the Behrampur and Krishnaghur colleges to establish the Calcutta University, reduced it along with the Calcutta Sanskrit Colleges into high schools in 1873 and declared that ‘the students of 3 collages after passing the first arts examination will study in Hoogly and Presidency collage.’31

Source: Compiled from various DPI and Collectors reports of 1858–59.

24,060 1,02,007

84,162

Central Provinces

Awadh Punjab

83,785

Area Madrasa, conquered Sanskrit colleges in square miles

NWP

Provinces

Table 10.1 (Continued)

C O N C L U D I N G O B S E RVAT I O N S

Notes 1 Minute by Trevelyan, 13 June 1833, GCPIC, Vol. 4. The Vazir of Ajmer handed over a sum of money to governor-general Hastings to establish a modern school. Hastings sent Jabez Carey, son of Baptist missionary William Carey, to establish an indigenous school on the Lancastern model. People were unhappy and sent Carey back. Trevelyan was commenting on this episode. 2 Arbuthnot, Selections from the Records, 47. 3 The Report of the Indian Education Commission, 88–89. 4 Ibid, 13, 184. 5 Reports from the Committees: East India Company’s Affairs, Vol. IX, 1831–32, 173. 6 Appendix to the Report, 1832, Minute by Minto, 6 March 1811, 325–326, Fisher’s Memoir, 216. 7 General Department, 48 of 1821–23, Petition from Noormuhammad Ibrahim Parkar and Vinayak Parshuram Divanji and others to Elphinstone, 28 January 1823, Board Collection, no 79199, Public address to the governor of Madras, 11 November 1839, signed by 70,000 persons. 8 Appendix to Report, 1832, 55. 9 Education, 1871, Nos. 2–3, Rules for passing native languages. 10 Minute by J.P. Willoughby, 12 January 1850, Report of the Board of Education, 1850, 134–192. 11 Education Department, Vol. 2, Minute by Warden, 26 June 1826. 12 Board Collections, No. 81607, J.A. Dunlop, Bombay Government, 21 July 1836. 13 General Department, 121 of 1829, George Jervis to Goodfellow, 1 December 1829. 14 Bengal General, Government of India to the Court of Directors, 12 May 1847. 15 The government of the NWP to the local Committee at Benares, 24 November 1853, Richey, Educational Records, 270. 16 Education Proceedings, 1871, 512. 17 Report of the GCPI, 1841, 1–20. 18 Reid, Report on Indigenous Education in the NWP, 1851, 98–99. 19 Speeches and Writings of Surendranath Banerjea, 88. William Digby (1849– 1904) was a liberal journalist who was deeply involved in famine relief in Deccan during the famine of 1876–1878. He opposed the colonial policies and was involved in the Indian National Congress. 20 Laird, Missionaries and Education, 84. 21 Ibid, 118–119. 22 GCPIC, ‘On Education’ essay by Siva Suhagur, 1836, 82–85. 23 Ibid, 84. 24 Woodrow, Macaulay’s Minute on Education, Minute, 11 February 1836, 65. 25 GCPIC, On the Advantages of Education, essay by Umed Singh, Delhi College, 1836, 88. 26 Ibid, 89. 27 Report of the Public Instruction Madras 1856–57, 25. 28 Report by Bhudev Mukherjee, Education, 10 October 1868, B Nos. 23–25. 29 For instance, see The Report of the Indian Education Commission, 43–45. 30 Education Proceedings, January–June 1873, Government Resolution dated 31 January 1873. 31 B.P. Majumdar, First Fruits of English, 1.

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255

INDEX

Adam, Frederick 131, 133 – 135 Adam, John governor-general 91 – 92 Adam, William 14 – 15, 21 – 24, 26, 28, 30 – 31, 34 – 37, 40 – 43, 56, 68 – 69, 90, 92, 94, 169, 181, 183, 249 Aldrich, Richard 6, 12, 92, 94, 248 Alee, Zamin 228 Alexander, G. M. 222 Ali, Imdad 194 Ali, Mohammad 105 – 106 Ali, Syed Latif 229 Amherst governor-general 82 – 83, 92 Anderson, G. W. 132 Appaji, Rowji 55 Arbuthnot, Alexander J. 66, 144, 146 – 148, 220, 238, 245, 247 – 248 Arnold, Thomas 215 Arnold, William 3 – 4, 25, 42, 214 – 215, 220, 233 Atkinson, W. S. 165 Auckland governor-general 86, 91, 93, 135, 181 – 183, 165, 179, 202 – 204, 248, 254 Bachman, W. H. 190, 205 Balmokund 168 – 169, 177 Banerjea, Surendranath 75, 91, 173, 240, 245, 248 Banerjee, Tarashankar 178, 248 Baur, Siegfried 5 Bayley, W. B. 65, 69, 82, 93, 145, 183 Bell, Andrew 61, 122, 145, 249 Bentinck, William governor-general 3, 21, 80, 82, 87 – 88, 92 – 93, 129, 133 – 134, 150 – 151, 157 – 159, 164 – 165, 174, 176 – 177, 249, 254 Bethune, J. E. D. 165, 202 – 203, 207 Bhagwant, Amrutrao 16

Bhai, Narayan 201 Binduram, Lalla 177 Bird, James 111, 120, 234 Bird, William Wilberforce 78, 88 – 89, 94, 158 Blackburn, John 147 Boutros, Felix 10 Briggs, John 102, 118 Brookes, William 104 – 105 Brown, David 55 Bushby, George Alexander 158 – 159 Bysack, Gorachand 90 Cameron, Charles Hay 186, 216, 218, 234, 238, 249 Campbell, Alexander Duncan 15, 18, 20 – 21, 28 – 29, 41 – 42, 125, 128 – 130, 146, 237 – 238 Candy, Thomas 115 – 116, 121, 206 Captain Best 137 Captain Murray 86 Carey, Jabez 245 Carey, William 54, 59 – 60, 62, 65, 77, 245 Chand, Mool 228 Chand, Tara 226 Chaplain, William 63 Chaplin, William M. 36, 40 – 41, 43, 99, 101 Chapman, R. B. 186, 204, 235 Chase, T. A. N. 139 Chetty, Gazulu Lakshminarasu 135 Chiranjiv, Master 228 Choudree, Nursing 85 Choudhury, Bykoonthanath 90 Choudhury, Roy Kalinath 90, 203 Clerk, G. R. 186 – 188, 190, 198, 204, 206, 229 – 231, 235 – 236

256

INDEX

Cobbe, Richard 63 Cockburn, M. D. 20, 41, 43 Colebrooke, Edward 152, 253 Colebrooke, Henry Thomas 73, 91, 152, 159 Colvin, Auckland 226, 235, 249 Colvin, John Russell 89, 93 – 94, 158, 175, 226, 235, 249 Compton, Herbert 110, 120 Cooper, George 225, 235 Cornwallis Governor-general 46 – 50, 129, 237 Corrie, Daniel 62, 69, 252 Cowasjee, Framjee 109 Crawley, A. 130 Croker, John Wilson 171, 174, 178, 255 Dalhousie, governor-general 196, 206, 226 Dasa, Jagannatha 40 Dass, Bhogilal Pranvulub 111 Day, Lal Behari 162, 250 Deb, Radhakant 65, 77, 80, 150, 162, 165, 176 Derozio, Henry 68, 79, 180 – 181, 203, 249 – 250 Deshmukh, Gopal Hari 103 DeVitre, J. D. 18, 41 Dhunjee, Sorabjee 105 – 106 Divanji, Vinayak Parshuram 97 – 98, 117, 245 Drummond, David 57, 181, 237 Duff, Alexander 10, 13, 42, 66, 89 – 90, 94, 176, 204, 216, 237, 242, 248, 250, 254 Duncan, Jonathan 48, 73 Dutt, Russomoy 165 Edwards, Michael 45, 66, 250 Eliott, Daniel 141 – 144, 217 Ellenborough governor-general 179, 187, 230 – 231, 234, 236 Elliot, Walter 140 Ellis, Francis Whyte 72, 124 Elphinstone, John 75 – 76, 134 – 138, 142 – 143, 147, 210 – 211, 238 Elphinstone, Mountsuart 14, 16, 32, 39, 54, 56, 68, 75 – 76, 91, 95 – 109, 114, 117 – 121, 134, 209, 211, 238, 245, 246, 249, 255 Elphinstone, W. F. 75 – 76

Erskine, Claudius James 211, 220, 232 Escombe, W. 201, 206 Everest, George 114 Falkland, Lucius Cary 198, 201, 209 – 211, 232 Farish, James 40 – 41, 43, 99, 108, 114, 118 – 119, 121, 197 Fisher’s Memoir 62 – 63, 69, 91, 117, 245 Fitzgibbon, John 107, 119 Forbs, Gordon 60 – 61, 69 Fraser, William 84 – 85, 93, 237 Furdoonjee, Nowrojee 111 Gandhi, M. K. 3 Ghosal, Colli Sunkar 62, 85 Ghose, Debunarayun 190 Ghose, Rasiklal 79 Ghosh, Kashi Prasad 79, 150 Goodfellow, Samuel 105 – 106, 119, 245 Goodwin, R. S. 101, 118 Govinde, Sadashiv Ballal 208, 211 Graeme, Henry 128 – 129 Grant, Charles 40, 50 – 53, 59, 67, 74, 151, 217, 237, 247, 251, 247, 253 Grant, Charles Jr. 40, 151, 174, 237 Grant, John Peter 221, 234, 238 Grant, Patrick 227 Grant, Robert 110 – 111, 114 – 115, 120 – 121, 151, 155, 237 Griffith, R. T. H. 194, 228 Haldar, Somsundar 60 Hall, Fitzedward 194 Halliday, Frederick James 213, 221, 230, 234, 236 Hardinge governor-general 183 – 184, 186 – 187, 204, 234 Hare, David 77, 79, 91, 173, 237, 252 Harkness, John 110, 206 Harrington, J. H. 78, 83, 92 Harris, George 144 Harrison, A. S. 228 – 229, 235 Hastings, Warren governor-general 48, 67, 73, 89, 135, 250, 252 Hastings Education Minute 76, 91, 193 Hastings (Moira) governor-general 47, 60 – 61, 71, 75, 79, 245 Hay, George 137, 139, 143, 148 Hoosein, Mahomed 191, 228 Hormasjee, Bomanjee 109

257

INDEX

Hossein, Syed Zainoodin 228 Hossyn, Curreem 65, 80 Howard, E. I. 212 Hudleston, J. B. 18, 41 Humeed, Ubdool 65, 80 Hunter, W. W. 40, 65 – 66, 70, 196, 251 Hurjeevundass, Davidass 109 Hutteman, Master 57 Ironside, E. 111, 120 Jambhekar, Bal Shastri 208 Jejeebhoy, Jumsetjee 109 Jervis, George Reisto 97, 99, 100 – 110, 112, 114, 117 – 120, 142, 197 – 201, 206 – 207 Jervis, Thomas Best 15 – 16, 36 – 37, 40 – 43, 69, 97, 99, 100, 117, 245 Johnstone, Alexander 14 Jones, E. C. 210, 232 Jones, William 48, 54, 71 – 72 Kashmiri, Mohanlal 10, 174, 250 Kelkar, Naro Madhav 115 Kempson, M. 232, 236 Khan, Faizullah 228 Khan, Nasir 228 Koolkunnee, Balajee Crustna 55 – 56 Lakshmi Bai 227 Lal, Chunnee 228 Lal, Heera 228 Lal, Kanhiya 228 Lal, Manu 228 Lal, Shunker 228 Larkins, J. P. 82 Leitner, Gottlieb Wilhelm 10 Ludlow, Lieutenant 137 Lushington, Stephen Rumbold 44, 129, 131 Macaulay, Thomas Babington 12, 40, 58, 67, 82 – 83, 87, 158 – 160, 165, 171 – 174, 175, 179, 185, 197 – 198, 203, 217, 237 – 238, 239, 246 – 250, 252 – 255; against corporal punishment 167; Charter Act of 1833 40, 71, 74 – 77, 81 – 82, 90, 156, 161, 173, 250; Education Minute of 1835 2, 73, 133, 160 – 164, 176, 182; egalitarianism 154 – 157, 165 – 169, 179 – 181; equal access 167 – 169;

Indian Penal Code 156 – 157, 171, 239; Indian students 154, 167, 175, 177 – 178, 241, 245; Indian teachers 37, 170 – 171; legal protection to natives 151, 157 – 158; rural education 86, 163,166, 177, 187, 188 – 193, 244; secularism 153, 154, 156, 166; teacher’s salaries 37, 44, 87, 93; vernacular education 149, 165, 169 – 170 Macaulay, Zachary 74, 153, 173 Mackenzie, Holt 80 – 82, 91 – 92 Macnaughten, W. H. 158, 164 Makha, Mohammad Ibrahim 109 Malcolm, John 46, 53, 66, 106 – 108, 119, 123, 238, 251 Marathe, Baji Pant 16 Mariott, Seville 96, 102, 117, 197 Marshall, Peter J. 46 – 47, 66, 174, 252 Marshman, John 216, 218 Marshman, Joshua 59, 62, 240 Martin, W. B. 82 Maude, T. I. 219, 234 May, Robert 60 – 61, 240 McLeod, Donald Friell 214, 221, 233 Metcalf, Charles 67, 93, 164 – 165, 235, 252 Metcalfe, Charles Theophilus 226, 235 Mill, James 154 Minto governor-general 30, 71, 73, 76, 81, 90 – 91, 159, 164, 206, 237, 245 Misr, Prasad Mathura 228 Mitchell, Murray 208 Mitra, Tarini Charan 65, 80 Montgomery, H. C. 134, 140, 147 Montgomery, Robert 214, 221, 233 Morehead, W. A. 140, 206 Morojee, Nanabhai 198 Moroji, Nana 210 – 211, 232 – 233 Mouat, F. J. 196, 206 Mukhopadhyay, Bhudev 242 Munro, Thomas 11 – 12, 15, 18, 27, 37, 41 – 42, 44, 46, 49, 53, 66 – 67, 124 – 130, 133 – 136, 143 – 146, 210, 217, 237 – 239, 243, 248, 251, 254 Mutaliyar, Subbaraya 72, 91 Nadkarni, Sadashiv Crustna 198 Nag, Radhika Prasad 190 Naidoo, L. Vencatakristnamah 145 Naidoo, P. T. Ramanjooloo 140 Naidoo, Vencatesem 145

258

INDEX

Roy, Rammohan 3, 9, 15, 21, 77  –   8 0, 82  –   8 3, 90, 92, 95, 150 –  1 51, 154, 161, 163, 173, 175, 181, 255 Runchoddas, Mandoodass 109

Naidu, C. Narayanaswami 135 Nana, Saheb 227 Narain, Jai 62 Narayan, Sheu 227 Nath, Deena 226 Nawab Etimad ud Daula 85 Norton, George 137 – 140, 142, 147 – 148, 183 Orlebar, Arthur Bedford 110 – 111, 120, 206 Paine, Thomas 154, 180 – 181 Pandit, Gangadhar 84, 158 Panwelkar, Syyud Buydrrodeen 55, 97 Paranjape, Sakharam Yeshwant 92, 208 Parkar, Noormuhammad Ibrahim 97 – 98, 117, 245 Parkar, Mohammad Ebrahim 198 Paton, James 86 Perry, James 198, 206, 248 Perry, Thomas Erskine 120, 142, 198 – 207, 237 – 238, 243, 246, 253 Phule, Jotirao 104, 208, 210 – 211, 253 Pillay, Ramaswami 125, 138 Pillay, Sreenevassa C. 135, 140 Plutschau, Heinrich 10 Pollack, C. R. 225, 235 Pottinger, Henry 41 – 42, 139 – 143, 148, 202 Prasad, Kesho 228 Prinsep, H. T. 72, 80, 82, 88 – 89,134, 150 – 151, 158 – 159, 161 – 164, 169, 171, 174 – 178, 181, 202 Prinsep, James 92 – 93, 159, 164, 176 Raee, Badyanath 85 Raee, Harrinath 85 Raee, Shib Chunder 85 Raja, Pratapaditya 90 Ram, Salig 237 Rani, Bhavani 31 – 32 Rao, Krishna 86 – 87, 192 Rasheed, Mohamad 65, 80 Reid, Henry Stuart 7 – 8, 24, 41 – 43, 195, 202, 204 – 206, 217, 220, 222 – 225, 234 – 235, 245, 247 Rogay, Mahamud Ally 109 Rollo, W. 55 Rowlandson 130 – 131, 133 – 134, 144, 146 – 147 Roy, Radha Prasad 90

Sarma, Pandit Kashinatha 48 Schwartz, Christian Friedrich 63 – 64 Scott, Walter 114 Sen, Ram Komul 65, 80 Serfoji King 64 Sewell, R. B. 125 Shakespeare, Henry 82, 158 – 159, 175 Shastri, Bal Gangadhar 111, 114, 120, 206 Shastri, Jagannath 105 Sherbourne Master 56 Shortrede, Robert 114 – 116, 238 Shuhagar, Shiva 240 – 241 Sindia, Madhav Rao 84 Singh, Kalyan 227 – 228 Singh, Rao Deonarain 228 Singh, Shiv Shankar 228 Singh, Umed 241, 245 Smalley, E. 20, 41 – 43 Smith, M. 42, 86, 93 Smith, Robert Percy 75 Sprenger, Aloys 10 Sterling, Andrew 22, 82, 92 Stubbs, W. 68, 97, 117 Sueed, Mohammad 65, 80 Sullivan, John 42 – 43, 49 – 50, 122, 133 Sunkarsett, Jugonnath 109 Survabhauma, Srinatha 31 Sutherland, J. C. C. 82, 84, 92 – 93, 158 – 159, 164, 176 – 177 Sutherland, James 111, 120 Sykes, W. H. 103 – 104, 118, 183 Tagore, Dwarkanath 82, 150, 158 Tagore, Hara Coomar 56 Tagore, Prasanna Coomar 56 Tagore, Wamanundun 65, 80 Tarkhadkar, Atmaram Pandurang 103, 208 Tarkhadkar, Dadoba Pandurang 103, 199, 208 Taylor, Joseph 64 Taylor, J. H. 86, 227 Thomas, I. J. 122, 141, 144 – 145, 148 Thomas, Lewis 57 Thomas, William 171, 178 Thomason, James 8, 187 – 189, 191 – 194, 205 – 206, 214, 217, 231

259

INDEX

Thompson, E. P. 136, 147 Trevelyan, Charles 1, 12, 78, 80, 86, 92, 150, 152 – 154, 158 – 160, 163 – 164, 174, 176, 179 – 180, 203, 216, 237 – 238, 245, 255 Trevelyan, George 152 Trimbuck, Waman Rao 111 Tuljaji, King 64 Tytler, John 152, 159 – 160, 174, 176 Ulee, Hyder 65, 80 Vachaspati, Kalinatha 31 Valavekar, Moro Vitthal 208, 210 – 211, 232 Vidyalankar, Mritunjay 60 Vidyasagar, Ishwarchandra 80, 251 Ward, William 59, 62, 65 Warden, Francis 15 – 16, 50, 95 – 96, 98 – 107, 109 – 110, 117 – 120,155, 183, 238 – 239, 245 – 246

Wathen, W. H. 108, 110 – 111, 120 Webbe, W. 123 Wedderburn, John 110, 234 – 235 Wellesley governor-general 9, 48, 53 – 54, 60, 68, 74, 129, 150, 165 West, Edward 110 Wilcox, J. T. 192 Wilkins, Charles 48, 52 Willoughby, J. P. 12, 174, 202, 207, 245 Wilson, Horace Hayman 69, 72 – 73, 77 – 84, 86, 88, 91, 93, 145, 150 – 152, 164, 176, 202, 216 Wood, Charles 137, 208, 216 – 217, 219, 220 – 222, 225, 232 – 234, 252 Woodrow, Henry 93, 165, 174 – 177, 203, 235, 245, 255 Young, W. Gordon 165, 204, 220, 235

Ziegenbalg, Bartholomaus 10, 28, 42, 249

260