But also I knew that I was going to do no such thing. I waited a long time for him to die, but his breathing did not weaken. (George Orwell, opening sentences of "Shooting an Elephant," 1936) was. Feelings like these are the normal by-products of imperialism; ask any Anglo-Indian official, if you can catch him off duty. During colonial times, Moulmein had a substantial Anglo-Burmese population. One could have imagined him thousands of years old. I. was subdivisional police officer of the town, and in an aimless, As a police officer I was an obvious target and was baited This was the rainy season and the ground was soft, and his face had scored a trench a foot deep and a couple of yards long. I had halted on the road. Theoretically – and secretly, of course – I was all for the Burmese and all against their oppressors, the British. At last, after what seemed a long time – it might have been five seconds, I dare say – he sagged flabbily to his knees. The people expected it of me and I had got to do it; I could feel their two thousand wills pressing me forward, irresistibly. He wears a mask, and his face grows to fit it. Shooting an Elephant, by George Orwell. I watched him beating his bunch of grass against his knees, with that preoccupied grandmotherly air that elephants have. I sent back for my small rifle and poured shot after shot into his heart and down his throat. Privacy © 2003-2021 Chegg Inc. All rights reserved. I was a poor shot with a rifle and the ground was soft mud into which one would sink at every step. Finally I fired my two remaining shots into the spot where I thought his heart must be. perspective. His mouth slobbered. And at that distance, peacefully eating, the elephant looked no more dangerous than a cow. Various Burmans stopped me on the way and told me about the elephant's doings. He was lying on his belly with arms crucified and head sharply twisted to one side. He was an officer and Indians resented his European authority over them, In Moulmein, in lower Burma, I was hated by large numbers of people – the only time in my life that I have been important enough for this to happen to me. “In Moulmein, in Lower Burma, I was hated by large numbers of people—the only time in my life that I have been important enough for this to happen to me.” While Kipling only spent 3 days in the city, Orwell had far stronger tie s , with Moulmein being … I rounded the hut and saw a man's dead body sprawling in the mud. chucked up my job and got out of it the better. Moulmein was important for only thirty years, as after the Second Anglo-Burmese War Rangoon became the capital of all Lower Burma. As soon as I saw the elephant I knew with perfect certainty that I ought not to shoot him. 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. whenever it seemed safe to do so. In the end I could not stand it any longer and went away. In Moulmein, in Lower Burma, I was hated by large numbers of The rifle was a beautiful German thing with cross-hair sights. is dying, still less did I know that it is a great deal better than The essay opens with the striking words: “In Moulmein, in Lower Burma, I was hated by large numbers of people—the only time in my life that I have been important enough for this to happen to me.” In Moulmein, in Lower Burma, I was hated by a large number of people. Early one morning the sub-inspector at a police station the other end of the town rang me up on the phone and said that an elephant was ravaging the bazaar. He was an Indian, a black Dravidian coolie, almost naked, and he could not have been dead many minutes. But at that moment I glanced round at the crowd that had followed me. 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. There were several thousands of them in the town and none of them seemed to have anything to do except stand on street corners and jeer at Europeans. Go away this instant!" I was sub-divisional police officer of the town, and in an aimless, petty kind of way anti-European feeling was very bitter. The elephant was standing eight yards from the road, his left side towards us. Buddhist priests were the worst of all. In Moulmein, in lower Burma, I was hated by large numbers of people – the only time in my life that I have been important enough for this to happen to me. It was an immense crowd, two thousand at the least and growing every minute. It seemed dreadful to see the great beast Lying there, powerless to move and yet powerless to die, and not even to be able to finish him. Thereafter Moulmein became a somewhat sleepy provincial town, of economic rather than political importance. As for the job I was doing, I hated it I watched him beating his bunch of grass against his knees, with that preoccupied grandmotherly air that elephants have. I was young and ill-educated, and I had had to think Most of the corpses I have seen looked devilish.) ‘In Moulmein, in lower Burma, I was hated by large numbers of people – the only time in my life that I have been important enough for this to happen to me.’ For a traveller to Myanmar today, surrounded by the smiles and ‘ mingalabar! That was the shot that did for him. The older men said I was right, the younger men said it was a damn shame to shoot an elephant for killing a coolie, because an elephant was worth more than any damn Coringhee coolie. Theoretically—and Infer the type of conflict Orwell is undergoing in the But I could get nothing into that I was stuck between my hatred of the empire I served and my 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. the only time in my life that I have been important … But I could get nothing into perspective. I was sub-divisional police officer of the town, and in an aimless, petty kind of way anti-European feeling was very bitter. He trumpeted, for the first and only time. It had already destroyed somebody's bamboo hut, killed a cow and raided some fruit-stalls and devoured the stock; also it had met the municipal rubbish van and, when the driver jumped out and took to his heels, had turned the van over and inflicted violences upon it. Among the Europeans opinion was divided. A sahib has got to act like a sahib; he has got to appear resolute, to know his own mind and do definite things. Raj as an unbreakable tyranny, as something clamped down, in His father was a Colonel in British Indian Army. But I had got to act quickly. I ought, therefore, as the elephant was sideways on, to have aimed straight at his ear-hole, actually I aimed several inches in front of this, thinking the brain would be further forward. Besides, there was the beast's owner to be considered. I often wondered whether any of the others grasped that I had done it solely to avoid looking a fool. The protagonist was a symbol of British occupation in India. View desktop site, 1. He becomes a sort of hollow, posing dummy, the conventionalized figure of a sahib. There was only one alternative. ask any Anglo-Indian official, if you can catch him off duty. With one part of my mind I thought of the British Raj as an unbreakable tyranny, as something clamped down, in saecula saeculorum, upon the will of prostrate peoples; with another part I thought that the greatest joy in the world would be to drive a bayonet into a Buddhist priest's guts. For it is the condition of his rule that he shall spend his life in trying to impress the "natives," and so in every crisis he has got to do what the "natives" expect of him. So begins one of Orwell's most famous essays. He began his brilliant short essay “ Shooting an Elephant ” with these words: “In Moulmein, in lower Burma, I was hated by large numbers of people – the only time in my life that I have been important enough for this to happen to me.” already made up, my mind that imperialism was an evil thing and the sooner I What does he mean when he says he was "important enough" to be hated? It was during his time serving as a British imperial police officer in Burma. I often wondered whether any of the others grasped that I had done it solely to avoid looking a fool. But in falling he seemed for a moment to rise, for as his hind legs collapsed beneath him he seemed to tower upward like a huge rock toppling, his trunk reaching skyward like a tree. for this to happen to me. In the first line of "Shooting an Elephant", Orwell answers this question. Never tell me, by the way, that the dead look peaceful. (Never tell me, by the way, that the dead look peaceful. bazaars alone somebody would probably spit betel juice over her Would I please come and do something about it? And suddenly I realized that I should have to shoot the elephant after all. I thought then and I think now that his attack of "must" was already passing off; They were watching me as they would watch a conjurer about to perform a trick. 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. At that age I was not squeamish about killing animals, but I had never shot an elephant and never wanted to. It was perfectly clear to me what I ought to do. I was subdivisional police officer of the town, and in an aimless, petty kind of way anti-European feeling was very bitter. His mouth was wide open – I could see far down into caverns of pale pink throat. "In Moulmein, in Lower Burma, I was hated by large numbers of people—the only time in my life that I have been important enough for this to happen to me." The young Buddhist priests were the worst of all. I was sub-divisional police officer of the town, and in an aimless, petty kind of way anti-European feeling was very bitter. It seemed to me that it would be murder to shoot him. I was young and ill-educated and I had had to think out my problems in the utter silence that is imposed on every Englishman in the East. It was obvious that the elephant would never rise again, but he was not dead. And if that happened it was quite probable that some of them would laugh. He wears a mask, and his face grows to fit it. 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. 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. 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. The Burmese population had no weapons and were quite helpless against it. He was breathing very rhythmically with long rattling gasps, his great mound of a side painfully rising and falling. job impossible. And afterwards I was very glad that the coolie had been killed; it put me legally in the right and it gave me a sufficient pretext for shooting the elephant. 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. An enormous senility seemed to have settled upon him. The crowd grew very still, and a deep, low, happy sigh, as of people who see the theatre curtain go up at last, breathed from innumerable throats. In Moulmein, In Lower Burma, I Was Hated By Large Numbers Of People—the Only Time In My Life That I Have Been Important Enough For This To Happen To Me. It blocked the road for a long distance on either side. When I pulled the trigger I did not hear the bang or feel the kick – one never does when a shot goes home – but I heard the devilish roar of glee that went up from the crowd. It seemed to me that it would be murder to shoot him. It was not, of course, a wild elephant, but a tame one which had gone "must." Most of the corpses I have seen looked devilish. The tortured gasps continued as steadily as the ticking of a clock. 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. In a job like that you But even then I was not thinking particularly of my own skin, only of the watchful yellow faces behind. And it was at this moment, as I stood there with the rifle in my hands, that I first grasped the hollowness, the futility of the white man's dominion in the East. The Burmese sub-inspector and some Indian constables were waiting for me in the quarter where the elephant had been seen. happened more than once. I did not then know that in shooting an elephant one would shoot to cut an imaginary bar running from ear-hole to ear-hole. & The wretched He was dying, very slowly and in great agony, but in some world remote from me where not even a bullet could damage him further. The short story begins by directly introducing readers to the setting and main character: “In Moulmein, in Lower Burma, I was hated by large numbers of people--the only time in my life that I have been important enough for this to happen to me. out my problems in the utter silence that is imposed on every 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. In that instant, in too short a time, one would have thought, even for the bullet to get there, a mysterious, terrible change had come over the elephant. A white man mustn't be frightened in front of "natives"; and so, in general, he isn't frightened. Moreover, I did not in the least want to shoot him. But I could get nothing into perspective. I did not know what I could do, but I wanted to see what was happening and I got on to a pony and started out. "In Moulmein, in lower Burma, I was hated by large numbers of people–the only time in my life that I have been important enough for this to happen to me. The thick blood welled out of him like red velvet, but still he did not die. He took not the slightest notice of the crowd's approach. All this was perplexing and upsetting. I got up. to drive a bayonet into a Buddhist priest’s guts. Burma and the early novels. In the end the sneering yellow faces of No one had the guts to raise a riot, but if a European woman went through the bazaars alone somebody would probably spit betel juice over her dress. He neither stirred nor fell, but every line of his body had altered. I was at a safe distance, got badly on my nerves. In a job like that you see the dirty work of Empire at close quarters. saecula saeculorum, upon the will of prostrate peoples; with "5 Europeans t A.A. and Ethel Yossem Professor of Legal Ethics, Creighton University School of … No … Binnya U, a deputy of Viceroy Saw Binnya, was one of the notable governors of Mawlamyine in the early history of the city. They did not like me, but with the magical rifle in my hands I was momentarily worth watching. “In Moulmein, in lower Burma, I was hated by large numbers of people – the only time in my life that I have been important enough for this to happen to me.” - George Orwell, Page 81 “For it is the condition of his rule that he shall spend his life trying to impress the ‘natives,’ and so in every crisis he has got to do what the ‘natives’ expect of him… I turned to some experienced-looking Burmans who had been there when we arrived, and asked them how the elephant had been behaving. That would never do. I had got to shoot the elephant. They were watching me as they would watch a conjurer about to perform a trick. I perceived in this moment that when the white man turns tyrant it is his own freedom that he destroys. people—the only time in my life that I have been important enough (Somehow it always seems worse to kill a large animal.) In Orwell: The Road to Airstrip One Ian Slater explains why Orwell was hated in Moulmein and takes us on a fascinating intellectual journey that traces the development of Orwell's political and social criticism. I thought then and I think now that his attack of "must" was already passing off; in which case he would merely wander harmlessly about until the mahout came back and caught him. 1. anything to do except stand on street corners and jeer at It was a bit of fun to them, as it would be to an English crowd; besides they wanted the meat. No one had more bitterly than I can perhaps make clear. another part I thought that the greatest joy in the world would be Some of the people said that the elephant had gone in one direction, some said that he had gone in another, some professed not even to have heard of any elephant. If the elephant charged and I missed him, I should have about as much chance as a toad under a steam-roller. Feelings like And then down he came, his belly towards me, with a crash that seemed to shake the ground even where I lay. But even then I was not thinking particularly of my own skin, only of the watchful yellow faces behind. As I started forward practically the whole population of the quarter flocked out of the houses and followed me. “In Moulmein, in Lower Burma, I was hated by large numbers of people – the only time in my life that I have been important enough for this to happen to me.” “Shooting An Elephant” George Orwell “In Moulmein, in lower Burma, I was hated by large numbers of people” (Orwell). | I heard later that it took him half an hour to die. Mawlamyine is also the setting of George Orwell’s famous 1936 memoir Shooting an Elephant. up on the football field and the referee (another Burman) looked Burmese for their European masters. In Moulmein, in Lower Burma, I was hated by large numbers of people — the only time in my life that I have been important enough for this to happen to me. 2. 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. He looked suddenly stricken, shrunken, immensely old, as though the frightful impact of the bullet had paralysed him without knocking him down. Englishman in the East. I was sub-divisional police officer of the town, and in an aimless, petty kind of way anti-European feeling was very bitter. I remember that it was a cloudy, stuffy morning at the beginning of the rains. You could see the agony of it jolt his whole body and knock the last remnant of strength from his legs. 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. He was tearing up bunches of grass, beating them against his knees to clean them and stuffing them into his mouth. I was sub-divisional police officer of the town, and in an aimless, petty kind of way anti-European feeling was very bitter. When a nimble Burman tripped me up on the football field and the referee (another Burman) looked the other way, the crowd yelled with hideous laughter. previous paragraphs and explain it. Terms Shooting an Elephant By George Orwell In Moulmein, in Lower Burma, I was hated by large numbers of people—the only time in my life that I have been important enough for this to happen to me. I fired a third time. Anglo-Indian official if you can catch him off duty. the other way, the crowd yelled with hideous laughter. Mathew Moody Barbra Jones English 1302-54 19 March 2014 Literary Analysis Literary Analysis- Shooting an Elephant “In Moulmein, in lower Burma, I was hated by large numbers of people — the only time in my life that I have been important enough for this to happen to me. 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. As soon as I saw the dead man I sent an orderly to a friend's house nearby to borrow an elephant rifle. The essay opens with the striking words: “In Moulmein, in Lower Burma, I was hated by large numbers of people—the only time in my life that I have been important enough for this to happen to me.” petty kind of way anti-European feeling was very bitter. Europeans. There were several cowed faces of the long-term convicts, the scarred buttocks of the They did not like me, but with the magical rifle in my hands I was momentarily worth watching. In Moulmein, in lower Burma, I was hated by large numbers of people – the only time in my life that I have been important enough for this to happen to me. I had almost made up my mind that the whole story was a pack of lies, when we heard yells a little distance away. I was sub-divisional police officer of the town, and in an aimless, petty kind of way anti-European feeling was very … This happened more than once. In Moulmein he ran a brutal prison. Most of the great Scots' commercial houses relocated to Rangoon, leaving branch offices in Moulmein. All I knew was that I was stuck between my hatred of the empire I served and my rage against the evil-spirited little beasts who tried to make my job impossible. It was a tiny incident in itself, but it gave me a better glimpse than I had had before of the real nature of imperialism – the real motives for which despotic governments act. One day something happened which in a roundabout way was enlightening. and an old woman with a switch in her hand came round the corner of a hut, violently shooing away a crowd of naked children. Burmans were bringing dash and baskets even before I left, and I was told they had stripped his body almost to the bones by the afternoon. rage against the evil-spirited little beasts who tried to make my When a nimble Burman tripped me up on the football field and the referee (another Burman) looked the other way, the crowd yelled with hideous laughter. This Orwell at the Police Training School in Mandalay, Burma, 1923. ' We began questioning the people as to where the elephant had gone and, as usual, failed to get any definite information. 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. They were going to have their bit of fun after all. "In Moulmein, in Lower Burma, I was hated by large numbers of people-the only time in my life that I have been important enough for this to happen to me. It made me vaguely uneasy. The people said that the elephant had come suddenly upon him round the corner of the hut, caught him with its trunk, put its foot on his back and ground him into the earth. That is invariably the case in the East; a story always sounds clear enough at a distance, but the nearer you get to the scene of events the vaguer it becomes. It had been chained up, as tame elephants always are when their attack of "must" is due, but on the previous night it had broken its chain and escaped. I shoved the cartridges into the magazine and lay down on the road to get a better aim. When a nimble Burman tripped me The first sentence of this paragraph is "In Moulmein, in lower Burma, I was hated by large numbers of people- the only time in my life that I have been important enough for this to happen to me." an intolerable sense of guilt. Summarize the experiences Orwell describes in lines 1–14. 2. Mawlamyine is the setting of George Orwell's famous 1936 memoir Shooting an Elephant. prisoners huddling in the stinking cages of the lock-ups, the gray, All this was perplexing and upsetting. Afterwards, of course, there were endless discussions about the shooting of the elephant. Mawlamyine is the setting of George Orwell’s famous 1936 memoir Shooting an Elephant. “Shooting An Elephant” George Orwell Eric Arthur Blair known better to the world as ‘George Orwell’ was born at Midnapur (India) on 25th June 1903. No one had the guts to raise a riot, but if a European woman went through the bazaars alone somebody would probably spit. In Moulmein, in Lower Burma,1 I was hated by large numbers of people—the only time in my life that I have been important enough for this to happen to me. They seemed to make no impression. In moulmein in lower burma i was hated by large numbers essay by George Orwell Shooting the ElephantCover of the first anthology publicationAuthorGe OrwellCountryUnited KingdomGenre(s)Unknown Fiction or Non-Fiction[1]Published in the New Written Publication1936 Shooting Elephant is an essay by the British writer George Orwell, First published in the literary … The friction of the great beast's foot had stripped the skin from his back as neatly as one skins a rabbit. Burma and the early novels GeorgeOrwell.org. I ought to walk up to within, say, twenty-five yards of the elephant and test his behavior. At the second shot he did not collapse but climbed with desperate slowness to his feet and stood weakly upright, with legs sagging and head drooping. I had already sent back the pony, not wanting it to go mad with fright and throw me if it smelt the elephant. The owner was furious, but he was only an Indian and could do nothing. I took my rifle, an old 44 Winchester and much too small to kill an elephant, but I thought the noise might be useful in terrorem. What effect did these experiences have on him? The Burmans were already racing past me across the mud. myine A city of southern Myanmar on the Andaman Sea east of Yangon. oppressors, the British. Burman – Largest native ethnic group in Burma Sahib – Arabic word meaning ^Holder, master or holder AND a term of address for a European man in colonial India Shooting an Elephant by George Orwell In Moulmein, in Lower Burma, I was hated by large numbers of people — …
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