Play as Quiz Flashcard. Questions and Answers. What attitude does Orwell's description express? What effect do the words have? They underscore the tension between imperialist forces and native population. What can be inferred from the statement?
Which detail discredits the steroetype that Burmese are unable to give precise information? What irony is expressed in the statement," A sahib has got to act like a sahib; he has got to appear resolute, to know his own mind and do definite things Although he knows his own mind, Orwell cannot do what he thinks he should. When he states that it, "would never do" to have the Burmese laugh at him, Orwell reveals his.
What is ironic about the description, "thick blood welled out of him like red velvet The elephant's thick rough skin contrasts with the smoothness of velvet. The luxurious image contrasts with the brutal reality of the elephant's dying.
In his description of the dying elephant, what tone does Orwell create by repeating the word "tortured"? Which type of irony is used in the following:a comparison of a rifle to something beautiful? Which type of irony is used in the following:the dangerous elephant is grandmotherly? They had seen the rifle and were all shouting excitedly that I was going to shoot the elephant.
They had not shown much interest in the elephant when he was merely ravaging their homes, but it was different now that he was going to be shot. It was a bit of fun to them, as it would be to an English crowd; besides they wanted the meat. It made me vaguely uneasy. I had no intention of shooting the elephant — I had merely sent for the rifle to defend myself if necessary — and it is always unnerving to have a crowd following you. I marched down the hill, looking and feeling a fool, with the rifle over my shoulder and an ever-growing army of people jostling at my heels.
At the bottom, when you got away from the huts, there was a metalled road and beyond that a miry waste of paddy fields a thousand yards across, not yet ploughed but soggy from the first rains and dotted with coarse grass. The elephant was standing eight yards from the road, his left side towards us. He was tearing up bunches of grass, beating them against his knees to clean them and stuffing them into his mouth.
I had halted on the road. As soon as I saw the elephant I knew with perfect certainty that I ought not to shoot him. It is a serious matter to shoot a working elephant — it is comparable to destroying a huge and costly piece of machinery — and obviously one ought not to do it if it can possibly be avoided. And at that distance, peacefully eating, the elephant looked no more dangerous than a cow.
Moreover, I did not in the least want to shoot him. I decided that I would watch him for a little while to make sure that he did not turn savage again, and then go home. But at that moment I glanced round at the crowd that had followed me. It was an immense crowd, two thousand at the least and growing every minute. It blocked the road for a long distance on either side. I looked at the sea of yellow faces above the garish clothes-faces all happy and excited over this bit of fun, all certain that the elephant was going to be shot.
They were watching me as they would watch a conjurer about to perform a trick. They did not like me, but with the magical rifle in my hands I was momentarily worth watching. And suddenly I realized that I should have to shoot the elephant after all.
The people expected it of me and I had got to do it; I could feel their two thousand wills pressing me forward, irresistibly. Here was I, the white man with his gun, standing in front of the unarmed native crowd — seemingly the leading actor of the piece; but in reality I was only an absurd puppet pushed to and fro by the will of those yellow faces behind. I perceived in this moment that when the white man turns tyrant it is his own freedom that he destroys.
He becomes a sort of hollow, posing dummy, the conventionalized figure of a sahib. He wears a mask, and his face grows to fit it. I had got to shoot the elephant. I had committed myself to doing it when I sent for the rifle.
A sahib has got to act like a sahib; he has got to appear resolute, to know his own mind and do definite things. To come all that way, rifle in hand, with two thousand people marching at my heels, and then to trail feebly away, having done nothing — no, that was impossible.
The crowd would laugh at me. But I did not want to shoot the elephant. I watched him beating his bunch of grass against his knees, with that preoccupied grandmotherly air that elephants have. It seemed to me that it would be murder to shoot him. At that age I was not squeamish about killing animals, but I had never shot an elephant and never wanted to.
Somehow it always seems worse to kill a large animal. Alive, the elephant was worth at least a hundred pounds; dead, he would only be worth the value of his tusks, five pounds, possibly. But I had got to act quickly. I turned to some experienced-looking Burmans who had been there when we arrived, and asked them how the elephant had been behaving.
They all said the same thing: he took no notice of you if you left him alone, but he might charge if you went too close to him. It was perfectly clear to me what I ought to do.
I ought to walk up to within, say, twenty-five yards of the elephant and test his behavior. If he charged, I could shoot; if he took no notice of me, it would be safe to leave him until the mahout came back. But also I knew that I was going to do no such thing. I was a poor shot with a rifle and the ground was soft mud into which one would sink at every step. If the elephant charged and I missed him, I should have about as much chance as a toad under a steam-roller. But even then I was not thinking particularly of my own skin, only of the watchful yellow faces behind.
For at that moment, with the crowd watching me, I was not afraid in the ordinary sense, as I would have been if I had been alone. The sole thought in my mind was that if anything went wrong those two thousand Burmans would see me pursued, caught, trampled on and reduced to a grinning corpse like that Indian up the hill.
George Orwell realizes that everyone is watching him, and becomes vert self-conscious. George Orwell's Shooting an Elephant as an Attack on Colonialism and Imperialism The glorious days of the imperial giants have passed, marking the death of the infamous and grandiose era of imperialism. George Orwell's essay, Shooting an Elephant, deals with the evils of imperialism. The unjust shooting of an elephant in Orwell's story is the central focus from which Orwell builds his argument through the two dominant characters, the elephant and its executioner.
The British officer, the executioner. Published in , the events of the essay take place in Burma during the British era of imperialism. Orwell Many important themes are present in Shooting an Elephant.
Using his own personal experience, he establishes an essay that was and is a mind changing piece. The essay expresses to modern day readers how imperialism effected the world we now live in.
Orwell applies the dead native coolie to represent sacrifice. While writing about a serious issue in his essay, George takes a less formal approach to this particular piece of writing; reflecting on past events in a form of a personal memoir. It is within his memoir, Orwell explores the cruelty of the human race and the actions people, including himself, take to prevent further ridicule.
He communicates in detail how he disagrees with the concept of imperialism but likewise dislikes the taunting Burmese community. Orwell goes on to recount the time an elephant rampages the village and how enlightening of an experience it was. Symbolism is a heavy orchestrator in this essay, with Orwell relating the concept of imperialism. Open Document. Essay Sample Check Writing Quality.
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