Soon there
were five buckets of frothing creamy milk at which many of the
animals looked with considerable interest.
were five buckets of frothing creamy milk at which many of the
animals looked with considerable interest.
Orwell - Animal Farm
But it reminded me of something that I had
long forgotten. Many years ago, when I was a little pig, my mother and
the other sows used to sing an old song of which they knew only the
tune and the first three words. I had known that tune in my infancy, but
it had long since passed out of my mind. Last night, however, it came
back to me in my dream. And what is more, the words of the song also
came back-words, I am certain, which were sung by the animals of long
ago and have been lost to memory for generations. I will sing you that
song now, comrades. I am old and my voice is hoarse, but when I have
taught you the tune, you can sing it better for yourselves. It is called
Beasts of England. "
Old Major cleared his throat and began to sing. As he had said, his
voice was hoarse, but he sang well enough, and it was a stirring tune,
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something between Clementine and La Cucaracha. The words ran
Beasts of England, beasts of Ireland,
Beasts of every land and clime,
Hearken to my joyful tidings
Of the golden future time.
Soon or late the day is coming,
Tyrant Man shall be o'erthrown,
And the fruitful fields of England
Shall be trod by beasts alone.
Rings shall vanish from our noses,
And the harness from our back,
Bit and spur shall rust forever,
Cruel whips no more shall crack.
Riches more than mind can picture,
Wheat and barley, oats and hay,
Clover, beans, and mangel-wurzels
Shall be ours upon that day.
Bright will shine the fields of England,
Purer shall its waters be,
Sweeter yet shall blow its breezes
On the day that sets us free.
For that day we all must labour,
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Though we die before it break;
Cows and horses, geese and turkeys,
All must toil for freedom's sake.
Beasts of England, beasts of Ireland,
Beasts of every land and clime,
Hearken well and spread my tidings
Of the golden future time.
The singing of this song threw the animals into the wildest excitement.
Almost before Major had reached the end, they had begun singing it for
themselves. Even the stupidest of them had already picked up the tune
and a few of the words, and as for the clever ones, such as the pigs and
dogs, they had the entire song by heart within a few minutes. And then,
after a few preliminary tries, the whole farm burst out into Beasts of
England in tremendous unison. The cows lowed it, the dogs whined it,
the sheep bleated it, the horses whinnied it, the ducks quacked it. They
were so delighted with the song that they sang it right through five
times in succession, and might have continued singing it all night if
they had not been interrupted.
Unfortunately, the uproar awoke Mr. Jones, who sprang out of bed,
making sure that there was a fox in the yard. He seized the gun which
always stood in a corner of his bedroom, and let fly a charge of number
6 shot into the darkness. The pellets buried themselves in the wall of
the barn and the meeting broke up hurriedly. Everyone fled to his own
sleeping-place. The birds jumped on to their perches, the animals
settled down in the straw, and the whole farm was asleep in a moment.
THREE nights later old Major died peacefully in his sleep. His body
was buried at the foot of the orchard.
This was early in March. During the next three months there was much
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secret activity. Major's speech had given to the more intelligent animals
on the farm a completely new outlook on life. They did not know when
the Rebellion predicted by Major would take place, they had no reason
for thinking that it would be within their own lifetime, but they saw
clearly that it was their duty to prepare for it. The work of teaching and
organising the others fell naturally upon the pigs, who were generally
recognised as being the cleverest of the animals. Pre-eminent among
the pigs were two young boars named Snowball and Napoleon, whom
Mr. Jones was breeding up for sale. Napoleon was a large, rather
fierce-looking Berkshire boar, the only Berkshire on the farm, not much
of a talker, but with a reputation for getting his own way. Snowball was
a more vivacious pig than Napoleon, quicker in speech and more
inventive, but was not considered to have the same depth of character.
All the other male pigs on the farm were porkers. The best known
among them was a small fat pig named Squealer, with very round
cheeks, twinkling eyes, nimble movements, and a shrill voice. He was a
brilliant talker, and when he was arguing some difficult point he had a
way of skipping from side to side and whisking his tail which was
somehow very persuasive. The others said of Squealer that he could
turn black into white.
These three had elaborated old Major's teachings into a complete
system of thought, to which they gave the name of Animalism. Several
nights a week, after Mr. Jones was asleep, they held secret meetings in
the barn and expounded the principles of Animalism to the others. At
the beginning they met with much stupidity and apathy. Some of the
animals talked of the duty of loyalty to Mr. Jones, whom they referred
to as "Master," or made elementary remarks such as "Mr. Jones feeds
us. If he were gone, we should starve to death. " Others asked such
questions as "Why should we care what happens after we are dead? " or
"If this Rebellion is to happen anyway, what difference does it make
whether we work for it or not? ", and the pigs had great difficulty in
making them see that this was contrary to the spirit of Animalism. The
stupidest questions of all were asked by Mollie, the white mare. The
very first question she asked Snowball was: "Will there still be sugar
after the Rebellion? "
"No," said Snowball firmly. "We have no means of making sugar on
this farm. Besides, you do not need sugar. You will have all the oats
and hay you want. "
"And shall I still be allowed to wear ribbons in my mane? " asked
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Mollie.
"Comrade," said Snowball, "those ribbons that you are so devoted to
are the badge of slavery. Can you not understand that liberty is worth
more than ribbons? "
Mollie agreed, but she did not sound very convinced.
The pigs had an even harder struggle to counteract the lies put about by
Moses, the tame raven. Moses, who was Mr. Jones's especial pet, was a
spy and a tale-bearer, but he was also a clever talker. He claimed to
know of the existence of a mysterious country called Sugarcandy
Mountain, to which all animals went when they died. It was situated
somewhere up in the sky, a little distance beyond the clouds, Moses
said. In Sugarcandy Mountain it was Sunday seven days a week, clover
was in season all the year round, and lump sugar and linseed cake grew
on the hedges. The animals hated Moses because he told tales and did
no work, but some of them believed in Sugarcandy Mountain, and the
pigs had to argue very hard to persuade them that there was no such
place.
Their most faithful disciples were the two cart-horses, Boxer and
Clover. These two had great difficulty in thinking anything out for
themselves, but having once accepted the pigs as their teachers, they
absorbed everything that they were told, and passed it on to the other
animals by simple arguments. They were unfailing in their attendance
at the secret meetings in the barn, and led the singing of Beasts of
England, with which the meetings always ended.
Now, as it turned out, the Rebellion was achieved much earlier and
more easily than anyone had expected. In past years Mr. Jones,
although a hard master, had been a capable farmer, but of late he had
fallen on evil days. He had become much disheartened after losing
money in a lawsuit, and had taken to drinking more than was good for
him. For whole days at a time he would lounge in his Windsor chair in
the kitchen, reading the newspapers, drinking, and occasionally feeding
Moses on crusts of bread soaked in beer. His men were idle and
dishonest, the fields were full of weeds, the buildings wanted roofing,
the hedges were neglected, and the animals were underfed.
June came and the hay was almost ready for cutting. On Midsummer's
Eve, which was a Saturday, Mr. Jones went into Willingdon and got so
drunk at the Red Lion that he did not come back till midday on Sunday.
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The men had milked the cows in the early morning and then had gone
out rabbiting, without bothering to feed the animals. When Mr. Jones
got back he immediately went to sleep on the drawing-room sofa with
the News of the World over his face, so that when evening came, the
animals were still unfed. At last they could stand it no longer. One of
the cows broke in the door of the store-shed with her horn and all the
animals began to help themselves from the bins. It was just then that
Mr. Jones woke up. The next moment he and his four men were in the
store-shed with whips in their hands, lashing out in all directions. This
was more than the hungry animals could bear. With one accord, though
nothing of the kind had been planned beforehand, they flung
themselves upon their tormentors. Jones and his men suddenly found
themselves being butted and kicked from all sides. The situation was
quite out of their control. They had never seen animals behave like this
before, and this sudden uprising of creatures whom they were used to
thrashing and maltreating just as they chose, frightened them almost out
of their wits. After only a moment or two they gave up trying to defend
themselves and took to their heels. A minute later all five of them were
in full flight down the cart-track that led to the main road, with the
animals pursuing them in triumph.
Mrs. Jones looked out of the bedroom window, saw what was
happening, hurriedly flung a few possessions into a carpet bag, and
slipped out of the farm by another way. Moses sprang off his perch and
flapped after her, croaking loudly. Meanwhile the animals had chased
Jones and his men out on to the road and slammed the five-barred gate
behind them. And so, almost before they knew what was happening, the
Rebellion had been successfully carried through: Jones was expelled,
and the Manor Farm was theirs.
For the first few minutes the animals could hardly believe in their good
fortune. Their first act was to gallop in a body right round the
boundaries of the farm, as though to make quite sure that no human
being was hiding anywhere upon it; then they raced back to the farm
buildings to wipe out the last traces of Jones's hated reign. The
harness-room at the end of the stables was broken open; the bits, the
nose-rings, the dog-chains, the cruel knives with which Mr. Jones had
been used to castrate the pigs and lambs, were all flung down the well.
The reins, the halters, the blinkers, the degrading nosebags, were
thrown on to the rubbish fire which was burning in the yard. So were
the whips. All the animals capered with joy when they saw the whips
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going up in flames. Snowball also threw on to the fire the ribbons with
which the horses' manes and tails had usually been decorated on market
days.
"Ribbons," he said, "should be considered as clothes, which are the
mark of a human being. All animals should go naked. "
When Boxer heard this he fetched the small straw hat which he wore in
summer to keep the flies out of his ears, and flung it on to the fire with
the rest.
In a very little while the animals had destroyed everything that
reminded them of Mr. Jones. Napoleon then led them back to the
store-shed and served out a double ration of corn to everybody, with
two biscuits for each dog. Then they sang Beasts of England from end
to end seven times running, and after that they settled down for the
night and slept as they had never slept before.
But they woke at dawn as usual, and suddenly remembering the
glorious thing that had happened, they all raced out into the pasture
together. A little way down the pasture there was a knoll that
commanded a view of most of the farm. The animals rushed to the top
of it and gazed round them in the clear morning light. Yes, it was
theirs-everything that they could see was theirs! In the ecstasy of that
thought they gambolled round and round, they hurled themselves into
the air in great leaps of excitement. They rolled in the dew, they
cropped mouthfuls of the sweet summer grass, they kicked up clods of
the black earth and snuffed its rich scent. Then they made a tour of
inspection of the whole farm and surveyed with speechless admiration
the ploughland, the hayfield, the orchard, the pool, the spinney. It was
as though they had never seen these things before, and even now they
could hardly believe that it was all their own.
Then they filed back to the farm buildings and halted in silence outside
the door of the farmhouse. That was theirs too, but they were frightened
to go inside. After a moment, however, Snowball and Napoleon butted
the door open with their shoulders and the animals entered in single
file, walking with the utmost care for fear of disturbing anything. They
tiptoed from room to room, afraid to speak above a whisper and gazing
with a kind of awe at the unbelievable luxury, at the beds with their
feather mattresses, the looking-glasses, the horsehair sofa, the Brussels
carpet, the lithograph of Queen Victoria over the drawing-room
mantelpiece. They were lust coming down the stairs when Mollie was
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discovered to be missing. Going back, the others found that she had
remained behind in the best bedroom. She had taken a piece of blue
ribbon from Mrs. Jones's dressing-table, and was holding it against her
shoulder and admiring herself in the glass in a very foolish manner. The
others reproached her sharply, and they went outside. Some hams
hanging in the kitchen were taken out for burial, and the barrel of beer
in the scullery was stove in with a kick from Boxer's hoof, -otherwise
nothing in the house was touched. A unanimous resolution was passed
on the spot that the farmhouse should be preserved as a museum. All
were agreed that no animal must ever live there.
The animals had their breakfast, and then Snowball and Napoleon
called them together again.
"Comrades," said Snowball, "it is half-past six and we have a long day
before us. Today we begin the hay harvest. But there is another matter
that must be attended to first. "
The pigs now revealed that during the past three months they had
taught themselves to read and write from an old spelling book which
had belonged to Mr. Jones's children and which had been thrown on the
rubbish heap. Napoleon sent for pots of black and white paint and led
the way down to the five-barred gate that gave on to the main road.
Then Snowball (for it was Snowball who was best at writing) took a
brush between the two knuckles of his trotter, painted out MANOR
FARM from the top bar of the gate and in its place painted ANIMAL
FARM. This was to be the name of the farm from now onwards. After
this they went back to the farm buildings, where Snowball and
Napoleon sent for a ladder which they caused to be set against the end
wall of the big barn. They explained that by their studies of the past
three months the pigs had succeeded in reducing the principles of
Animalism to Seven Commandments. These Seven Commandments
would now be inscribed on the wall; they would form an unalterable
law by which all the animals on Animal Farm must live for ever after.
With some difficulty (for it is not easy for a pig to balance himself on a
ladder) Snowball climbed up and set to work, with Squealer a few
rungs below him holding the paint-pot. The Commandments were
written on the tarred wall in great white letters that could be read thirty
yards away. They ran thus:
THE SEVEN COMMANDMENTS
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1. Whatever goes upon two legs is an enemy.
2. Whatever goes upon four legs, or has wings, is a friend.
3. No animal shall wear clothes.
4. No animal shall sleep in a bed.
5. No animal shall drink alcohol.
6. No animal shall kill any other animal.
7. All animals are equal.
It was very neatly written, and except that "friend" was written "freind"
and one of the "S's" was the wrong way round, the spelling was correct
all the way through. Snowball read it aloud for the benefit of the others.
All the animals nodded in complete agreement, and the cleverer ones at
once began to learn the Commandments by heart.
"Now, comrades," cried Snowball, throwing down the paint-brush, "to
the hayfield! Let us make it a point of honour to get in the harvest more
quickly than Jones and his men could do. "
But at this moment the three cows, who had seemed uneasy for some
time past, set up a loud lowing. They had not been milked for
twenty-four hours, and their udders were almost bursting. After a little
thought, the pigs sent for buckets and milked the cows fairly
successfully, their trotters being well adapted to this task.
Soon there
were five buckets of frothing creamy milk at which many of the
animals looked with considerable interest.
"What is going to happen to all that milk? " said someone.
"Jones used sometimes to mix some of it in our mash," said one of the
hens.
"Never mind the milk, comrades! " cried Napoleon, placing himself in
front of the buckets. "That will be attended to. The harvest is more
important. Comrade Snowball will lead the way. I shall follow in a few
minutes. Forward, comrades! The hay is waiting. "
So the animals trooped down to the hayfield to begin the harvest, and
when they came back in the evening it was noticed that the milk had
disappeared.
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HOW they toiled and sweated to get the hay in! But their efforts were
rewarded, for the harvest was an even bigger success than they had
hoped.
Sometimes the work was hard; the implements had been designed for
human beings and not for animals, and it was a great drawback that no
animal was able to use any tool that involved standing on his hind legs.
But the pigs were so clever that they could think of a way round every
difficulty. As for the horses, they knew every inch of the field, and in
fact understood the business of mowing and raking far better than Jones
and his men had ever done. The pigs did not actually work, but directed
and supervised the others. With their superior knowledge it was natural
that they should assume the leadership. Boxer and Clover would
harness themselves to the cutter or the horse-rake (no bits or reins were
needed in these days, of course) and tramp steadily round and round the
field with a pig walking behind and calling out "Gee up, comrade! " or
"Whoa back, comrade! " as the case might be. And every animal down
to the humblest worked at turning the hay and gathering it. Even the
ducks and hens toiled to and fro all day in the sun, carrying tiny wisps
of hay in their beaks. In the end they finished the harvest in two days'
less time than it had usually taken Jones and his men. Moreover, it was
the biggest harvest that the farm had ever seen. There was no wastage
whatever; the hens and ducks with their sharp eyes had gathered up the
very last stalk. And not an animal on the farm had stolen so much as a
mouthful.
All through that summer the work of the farm went like clockwork. The
animals were happy as they had never conceived it possible to be.
Every mouthful of food was an acute positive pleasure, now that it was
truly their own food, produced by themselves and for themselves, not
doled out to them by a grudging master. With the worthless parasitical
human beings gone, there was more for everyone to eat. There was
more leisure too, inexperienced though the animals were. They met
with many difficulties-for instance, later in the year, when they
harvested the corn, they had to tread it out in the ancient style and blow
away the chaff with their breath, since the farm possessed no threshing
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machine-but the pigs with their cleverness and Boxer with his
tremendous muscles always pulled them through. Boxer was the
admiration of everybody. He had been a hard worker even in Jones's
time, but now he seemed more like three horses than one; there were
days when the entire work of the farm seemed to rest on his mighty
shoulders. From morning to night he was pushing and pulling, always
at the spot where the work was hardest. He had made an arrangement
with one of the cockerels to call him in the mornings half an hour
earlier than anyone else, and would put in some volunteer labour at
whatever seemed to be most needed, before the regular day's work
began. His answer to every problem, every setback, was "I will work
harder ["-which he had adopted as his personal motto.
But everyone worked according to his capacity The hens and ducks, for
instance, saved five bushels of corn at the harvest by gathering up the
stray grains. Nobody stole, nobody grumbled over his rations, the
quarrelling and biting and jealousy which had been normal features of
life in the old days had almost disappeared. Nobody shirked-or almost
nobody. Mollie, it was true, was not good at getting up in the mornings,
and had a way of leaving work early on the ground that there was a
stone in her hoof. And the behaviour of the cat was somewhat peculiar.
It was soon noticed that when there was work to be done the cat could
never be found. She would vanish for hours on end, and then reappear
at meal-times, or in the evening after work was over, as though nothing
had happened. But she always made such excellent excuses, and purred
so affectionately, that it was impossible not to believe in her good
intentions. Old Benjamin, the donkey, seemed quite unchanged since
the Rebellion. He did his work in the same slow obstinate way as he
had done it in Jones's time, never shirking and never volunteering for
extra work either. About the Rebellion and its results he would express
no opinion. When asked whether he was not happier now that Jones
was gone, he would say only "Donkeys live a long time. None of you
has ever seen a dead donkey," and the others had to be content with this
cryptic answer.
On Sundays there was no work. Breakfast was an hour later than usual,
and after breakfast there was a ceremony which was observed every
week without fail. First came the hoisting of the flag. Snowball had
found in the harness-room an old green tablecloth of Mrs. Jones's and
had painted on it a hoof and a horn in white. This was run up the
flagstaff in the farmhouse garden every Sunday 8, morning. The flag
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was green, Snowball explained, to represent the green fields of
England, while the hoof and horn signified the future Republic of the
Animals which would arise when the human race had been finally
overthrown. After the hoisting of the flag all the animals trooped into
the big barn for a general assembly which was known as the Meeting.
Here the work of the coming week was planned out and resolutions
were put forward and debated. It was always the pigs who put forward
the resolutions. The other animals understood how to vote, but could
never think of any resolutions of their own. Snowball and Napoleon
were by far the most active in the debates. But it was noticed that these
two were never in agreement: whatever suggestion either of them made,
the other could be counted on to oppose it. Even when it was resolved-a
thing no one could object to in itself-to set aside the small paddock
behind the orchard as a home of rest for animals who were past work,
there was a stormy debate over the correct retiring age for each class of
animal. The Meeting always ended with the singing of Beasts of
England, and the afternoon was given up to recreation.
The pigs had set aside the harness-room as a headquarters for
themselves. Here, in the evenings, they studied blacksmithing,
carpentering, and other necessary arts from books which they had
brought out of the farmhouse. Snowball also busied himself with
organising the other animals into what he called Animal Committees.
He was indefatigable at this. He formed the Egg Production Committee
for the hens, the Clean Tails League for the cows, the Wild Comrades'
Re-education Committee (the object of this was to tame the rats and
rabbits), the Whiter Wool Movement for the sheep, and various others,
besides instituting classes in reading and writing. On the whole, these
projects were a failure. The attempt to tame the wild creatures, for
instance, broke down almost immediately. They continued to behave
very much as before, and when treated with generosity, simply took
advantage of it. The cat joined the Re-education Committee and was
very active in it for some days. She was seen one day sitting on a roof
and talking to some sparrows who were just out of her reach. She was
telling them that all animals were now comrades and that any sparrow
who chose could come and perch on her paw; but the sparrows kept
their distance.
The reading and writing classes, however, were a great success. By the
autumn almost every animal on the farm was literate in some degree.
As for the pigs, they could already read and write perfectly. The dogs
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learned to read fairly well, but were not interested in reading anything
except the Seven Commandments. Muriel, the goat, could read
somewhat better than the dogs, and sometimes used to read to the
others in the evenings from scraps of newspaper which she found on
the rubbish heap. Benjamin could read as well as any pig, but never
exercised his faculty. So far as he knew, he said, there was nothing
worth reading. Clover learnt the whole alphabet, but could not put
words together. Boxer could not get beyond the letter D. He would
trace out A, B, C, D, in the dust with his great hoof, and then would
stand staring at the letters with his ears back, sometimes shaking his
forelock, trying with all his might to remember what came next and
never succeeding. On several occasions, indeed, he did learn E, F, G, H,
but by the time he knew them, it was always discovered that he had
forgotten A, B, C, and D. Finally he decided to be content with the first
four letters, and used to write them out once or twice every day to
refresh his memory. Mollie refused to learn any but the six letters
which spelt her own name. She would form these very neatly out of
pieces of twig, and would then decorate them with a flower or two and
walk round them admiring them.
None of the other animals on the farm could get further than the letter
A. It was also found that the stupider animals, such as the sheep, hens,
and ducks, were unable to learn the Seven Commandments by heart.
After much thought Snowball declared that the Seven Commandments
could in effect be reduced to a single maxim, namely: "Four legs good,
two legs bad. " This, he said, contained the essential principle of
Animalism. Whoever had thoroughly grasped it would be safe from
human influences. The birds at first objected, since it seemed to them
that they also had two legs, but Snowball proved to them that this was
not so.
"A bird's wing, comrades," he said, "is an organ of propulsion and not
of manipulation. It should therefore be regarded as a leg. The
distinguishing mark of man is the hand, the instrument with which he
does all his mischief. "
The birds did not understand Snowball's long words, but they accepted
his explanation, and all the humbler animals set to work to learn the
new maxim by heart. FOUR FEGS GOOD, TWO FEGS BAD, was
inscribed on the end wall of the barn, above the Seven Commandments
and in bigger letters When they had once got it by heart, the sheep
developed a great liking for this maxim, and often as they lay in the
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field they would all start bleating "Four legs good, two legs bad! Four
legs good, two legs bad! " and keep it up for hours on end, never
growing tired of it.
Napoleon took no interest in Snowball's committees. He said that the
education of the young was more important than anything that could be
done for those who were already grown up. It happened that Jessie and
Bluebell had both whelped soon after the hay harvest, giving birth
between them to nine sturdy puppies. As soon as they were weaned,
Napoleon took them away from their mothers, saying that he would
make himself responsible for their education. He took them up into a
loft which could only be reached by a ladder from the harness-room,
and there kept them in such seclusion that the rest of the farm soon
forgot their existence.
The mystery of where the milk went to was soon cleared up. It was
mixed every day into the pigs' mash. The early apples were now
ripening, and the grass of the orchard was littered with windfalls. The
animals had assumed as a matter of course that these would be shared
out equally; one day, however, the order went forth that all the
windfalls were to be collected and brought to the harness-room for the
use of the pigs. At this some of the other animals murmured, but it was
no use. All the pigs were in full agreement on this point, even Snowball
and Napoleon. Squealer was sent to make the necessary explanations to
the others.
"Comrades! " he cried. "You do not imagine, I hope, that we pigs are
doing this in a spirit of selfishness and privilege? Many of us actually
dislike milk and apples. I dislike them myself. Our sole object in taking
these things is to preserve our health. Milk and apples (this has been
proved by Science, comrades) contain substances absolutely necessary
to the well-being of a pig. We pigs are brainworkers. The whole
management and organisation of this farm depend on us. Day and night
we are watching over your welfare. It is for your sake that we drink that
milk and eat those apples. Do you know what would happen if we pigs
failed in our duty? Jones would come back! Yes, Jones would come
back! Surely, comrades," cried Squealer almost pleadingly, skipping
from side to side and whisking his tail, "surely there is no one among
you who wants to see Jones come back? "
Now if there was one thing that the animals were completely certain of,
it was that they did not want Jones back. When it was put to them in
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this light, they had no more to say. The importance of keeping the pigs
in good health was all too obvious. So it was agreed without further
argument that the milk and the windfall apples (and also the main crop
of apples when they ripened) should be reserved for the pigs alone.
IV
BY THE late summer the news of what had happened on Animal Farm
had spread across half the county. Every day Snowball and Napoleon
sent out flights of pigeons whose instructions were to mingle with the
animals on neighbouring farms, tell them the story of the Rebellion,
and teach them the tune of Beasts of England.
Most of this time Mr. Jones had spent sitting in the taproom of the Red
Lion at Willingdon, complaining to anyone who would listen of the
monstrous injustice he had suffered in being turned out of his property
by a pack of good-for-nothing animals. The other farmers sympathised
in principle, but they did not at first give him much help. At heart, each
of them was secretly wondering whether he could not somehow turn
Jones's misfortune to his own advantage. It was lucky that the owners
of the two farms which adjoined Animal Farm were on permanently
bad terms. One of them, which was named Foxwood, was a large,
neglected, old-fashioned farm, much overgrown by woodland, with all
its pastures worn out and its hedges in a disgraceful condition. Its
owner, Mr. Pilkington, was an easy-going gentleman farmer who spent
most of his time in fishing or hunting according to the season. The
other farm, which was called Pinchfield, was smaller and better kept.
Its owner was a Mr. Frederick, a tough, shrewd man, perpetually
involved in lawsuits and with a name for driving hard bargains. These
two disliked each other so much that it was difficult for them to come
to any agreement, even in defence of their own interests.
Nevertheless, they were both thoroughly frightened by the rebellion on
Animal Farm, and very anxious to prevent their own animals from
learning too much about it. At first they pretended to laugh to scorn the
idea of animals managing a farm for themselves. The whole thing
would be over in a fortnight, they said. They put it about that the
animals on the Manor Farm (they insisted on calling it the Manor Farm;
they would not tolerate the name "Animal Farm") were perpetually
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fighting among themselves and were also rapidly starving to death.
When time passed and the animals had evidently not starved to death,
Frederick and Pilkington changed their tune and began to talk of the
terrible wickedness that now flourished on Animal Farm. It was given
out that the animals there practised cannibalism, tortured one another
with red-hot horseshoes, and had their females in common. This was
what came of rebelling against the laws of Nature, Frederick and
Pilkington said.
However, these stories were never fully believed. Rumours of a
wonderful farm, where the human beings had been turned out and the
animals managed their own affairs, continued to circulate in vague and
distorted forms, and throughout that year a wave of rebelliousness ran
through the countryside. Bulls which had always been tractable
suddenly turned savage, sheep broke down hedges and devoured the
clover, cows kicked the pail over, hunters refused their fences and shot
their riders on to the other side. Above all, the tune and even the words
of Beasts of England were known everywhere. It had spread with
astonishing speed. The human beings could not contain their rage when
they heard this song, though they pretended to think it merely
ridiculous. They could not understand, they said, how even animals
could bring themselves to sing such contemptible rubbish. Any animal
caught singing it was given a flogging on the spot. And yet the song
was irrepressible. The blackbirds whistled it in the hedges, the pigeons
cooed it in the elms, it got into the din of the smithies and the tune of
the church bells. And when the human beings listened to it, they
secretly trembled, hearing in it a prophecy of their future doom.
Early in October, when the corn was cut and stacked and some of it was
already threshed, a flight of pigeons came whirling through the air and
alighted in the yard of Animal Farm in the wildest excitement. Jones
and all his men, with half a dozen others from Foxwood and Pinchfield,
had entered the five-barred gate and were coming up the cart-track that
led to the farm. They were all carrying sticks, except Jones, who was
marching ahead with a gun in his hands. Obviously they were going to
attempt the recapture of the farm.
This had long been expected, and all preparations had been made.
Snowball, who had studied an old book of Julius Caesar's campaigns
which he had found in the farmhouse, was in charge of the defensive
operations. He gave his orders quickly, and in a couple of minutes
every animal was at his post.
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As the human beings approached the farm buildings, Snowball
launched his first attack.
long forgotten. Many years ago, when I was a little pig, my mother and
the other sows used to sing an old song of which they knew only the
tune and the first three words. I had known that tune in my infancy, but
it had long since passed out of my mind. Last night, however, it came
back to me in my dream. And what is more, the words of the song also
came back-words, I am certain, which were sung by the animals of long
ago and have been lost to memory for generations. I will sing you that
song now, comrades. I am old and my voice is hoarse, but when I have
taught you the tune, you can sing it better for yourselves. It is called
Beasts of England. "
Old Major cleared his throat and began to sing. As he had said, his
voice was hoarse, but he sang well enough, and it was a stirring tune,
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something between Clementine and La Cucaracha. The words ran
Beasts of England, beasts of Ireland,
Beasts of every land and clime,
Hearken to my joyful tidings
Of the golden future time.
Soon or late the day is coming,
Tyrant Man shall be o'erthrown,
And the fruitful fields of England
Shall be trod by beasts alone.
Rings shall vanish from our noses,
And the harness from our back,
Bit and spur shall rust forever,
Cruel whips no more shall crack.
Riches more than mind can picture,
Wheat and barley, oats and hay,
Clover, beans, and mangel-wurzels
Shall be ours upon that day.
Bright will shine the fields of England,
Purer shall its waters be,
Sweeter yet shall blow its breezes
On the day that sets us free.
For that day we all must labour,
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Though we die before it break;
Cows and horses, geese and turkeys,
All must toil for freedom's sake.
Beasts of England, beasts of Ireland,
Beasts of every land and clime,
Hearken well and spread my tidings
Of the golden future time.
The singing of this song threw the animals into the wildest excitement.
Almost before Major had reached the end, they had begun singing it for
themselves. Even the stupidest of them had already picked up the tune
and a few of the words, and as for the clever ones, such as the pigs and
dogs, they had the entire song by heart within a few minutes. And then,
after a few preliminary tries, the whole farm burst out into Beasts of
England in tremendous unison. The cows lowed it, the dogs whined it,
the sheep bleated it, the horses whinnied it, the ducks quacked it. They
were so delighted with the song that they sang it right through five
times in succession, and might have continued singing it all night if
they had not been interrupted.
Unfortunately, the uproar awoke Mr. Jones, who sprang out of bed,
making sure that there was a fox in the yard. He seized the gun which
always stood in a corner of his bedroom, and let fly a charge of number
6 shot into the darkness. The pellets buried themselves in the wall of
the barn and the meeting broke up hurriedly. Everyone fled to his own
sleeping-place. The birds jumped on to their perches, the animals
settled down in the straw, and the whole farm was asleep in a moment.
THREE nights later old Major died peacefully in his sleep. His body
was buried at the foot of the orchard.
This was early in March. During the next three months there was much
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secret activity. Major's speech had given to the more intelligent animals
on the farm a completely new outlook on life. They did not know when
the Rebellion predicted by Major would take place, they had no reason
for thinking that it would be within their own lifetime, but they saw
clearly that it was their duty to prepare for it. The work of teaching and
organising the others fell naturally upon the pigs, who were generally
recognised as being the cleverest of the animals. Pre-eminent among
the pigs were two young boars named Snowball and Napoleon, whom
Mr. Jones was breeding up for sale. Napoleon was a large, rather
fierce-looking Berkshire boar, the only Berkshire on the farm, not much
of a talker, but with a reputation for getting his own way. Snowball was
a more vivacious pig than Napoleon, quicker in speech and more
inventive, but was not considered to have the same depth of character.
All the other male pigs on the farm were porkers. The best known
among them was a small fat pig named Squealer, with very round
cheeks, twinkling eyes, nimble movements, and a shrill voice. He was a
brilliant talker, and when he was arguing some difficult point he had a
way of skipping from side to side and whisking his tail which was
somehow very persuasive. The others said of Squealer that he could
turn black into white.
These three had elaborated old Major's teachings into a complete
system of thought, to which they gave the name of Animalism. Several
nights a week, after Mr. Jones was asleep, they held secret meetings in
the barn and expounded the principles of Animalism to the others. At
the beginning they met with much stupidity and apathy. Some of the
animals talked of the duty of loyalty to Mr. Jones, whom they referred
to as "Master," or made elementary remarks such as "Mr. Jones feeds
us. If he were gone, we should starve to death. " Others asked such
questions as "Why should we care what happens after we are dead? " or
"If this Rebellion is to happen anyway, what difference does it make
whether we work for it or not? ", and the pigs had great difficulty in
making them see that this was contrary to the spirit of Animalism. The
stupidest questions of all were asked by Mollie, the white mare. The
very first question she asked Snowball was: "Will there still be sugar
after the Rebellion? "
"No," said Snowball firmly. "We have no means of making sugar on
this farm. Besides, you do not need sugar. You will have all the oats
and hay you want. "
"And shall I still be allowed to wear ribbons in my mane? " asked
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Mollie.
"Comrade," said Snowball, "those ribbons that you are so devoted to
are the badge of slavery. Can you not understand that liberty is worth
more than ribbons? "
Mollie agreed, but she did not sound very convinced.
The pigs had an even harder struggle to counteract the lies put about by
Moses, the tame raven. Moses, who was Mr. Jones's especial pet, was a
spy and a tale-bearer, but he was also a clever talker. He claimed to
know of the existence of a mysterious country called Sugarcandy
Mountain, to which all animals went when they died. It was situated
somewhere up in the sky, a little distance beyond the clouds, Moses
said. In Sugarcandy Mountain it was Sunday seven days a week, clover
was in season all the year round, and lump sugar and linseed cake grew
on the hedges. The animals hated Moses because he told tales and did
no work, but some of them believed in Sugarcandy Mountain, and the
pigs had to argue very hard to persuade them that there was no such
place.
Their most faithful disciples were the two cart-horses, Boxer and
Clover. These two had great difficulty in thinking anything out for
themselves, but having once accepted the pigs as their teachers, they
absorbed everything that they were told, and passed it on to the other
animals by simple arguments. They were unfailing in their attendance
at the secret meetings in the barn, and led the singing of Beasts of
England, with which the meetings always ended.
Now, as it turned out, the Rebellion was achieved much earlier and
more easily than anyone had expected. In past years Mr. Jones,
although a hard master, had been a capable farmer, but of late he had
fallen on evil days. He had become much disheartened after losing
money in a lawsuit, and had taken to drinking more than was good for
him. For whole days at a time he would lounge in his Windsor chair in
the kitchen, reading the newspapers, drinking, and occasionally feeding
Moses on crusts of bread soaked in beer. His men were idle and
dishonest, the fields were full of weeds, the buildings wanted roofing,
the hedges were neglected, and the animals were underfed.
June came and the hay was almost ready for cutting. On Midsummer's
Eve, which was a Saturday, Mr. Jones went into Willingdon and got so
drunk at the Red Lion that he did not come back till midday on Sunday.
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The men had milked the cows in the early morning and then had gone
out rabbiting, without bothering to feed the animals. When Mr. Jones
got back he immediately went to sleep on the drawing-room sofa with
the News of the World over his face, so that when evening came, the
animals were still unfed. At last they could stand it no longer. One of
the cows broke in the door of the store-shed with her horn and all the
animals began to help themselves from the bins. It was just then that
Mr. Jones woke up. The next moment he and his four men were in the
store-shed with whips in their hands, lashing out in all directions. This
was more than the hungry animals could bear. With one accord, though
nothing of the kind had been planned beforehand, they flung
themselves upon their tormentors. Jones and his men suddenly found
themselves being butted and kicked from all sides. The situation was
quite out of their control. They had never seen animals behave like this
before, and this sudden uprising of creatures whom they were used to
thrashing and maltreating just as they chose, frightened them almost out
of their wits. After only a moment or two they gave up trying to defend
themselves and took to their heels. A minute later all five of them were
in full flight down the cart-track that led to the main road, with the
animals pursuing them in triumph.
Mrs. Jones looked out of the bedroom window, saw what was
happening, hurriedly flung a few possessions into a carpet bag, and
slipped out of the farm by another way. Moses sprang off his perch and
flapped after her, croaking loudly. Meanwhile the animals had chased
Jones and his men out on to the road and slammed the five-barred gate
behind them. And so, almost before they knew what was happening, the
Rebellion had been successfully carried through: Jones was expelled,
and the Manor Farm was theirs.
For the first few minutes the animals could hardly believe in their good
fortune. Their first act was to gallop in a body right round the
boundaries of the farm, as though to make quite sure that no human
being was hiding anywhere upon it; then they raced back to the farm
buildings to wipe out the last traces of Jones's hated reign. The
harness-room at the end of the stables was broken open; the bits, the
nose-rings, the dog-chains, the cruel knives with which Mr. Jones had
been used to castrate the pigs and lambs, were all flung down the well.
The reins, the halters, the blinkers, the degrading nosebags, were
thrown on to the rubbish fire which was burning in the yard. So were
the whips. All the animals capered with joy when they saw the whips
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going up in flames. Snowball also threw on to the fire the ribbons with
which the horses' manes and tails had usually been decorated on market
days.
"Ribbons," he said, "should be considered as clothes, which are the
mark of a human being. All animals should go naked. "
When Boxer heard this he fetched the small straw hat which he wore in
summer to keep the flies out of his ears, and flung it on to the fire with
the rest.
In a very little while the animals had destroyed everything that
reminded them of Mr. Jones. Napoleon then led them back to the
store-shed and served out a double ration of corn to everybody, with
two biscuits for each dog. Then they sang Beasts of England from end
to end seven times running, and after that they settled down for the
night and slept as they had never slept before.
But they woke at dawn as usual, and suddenly remembering the
glorious thing that had happened, they all raced out into the pasture
together. A little way down the pasture there was a knoll that
commanded a view of most of the farm. The animals rushed to the top
of it and gazed round them in the clear morning light. Yes, it was
theirs-everything that they could see was theirs! In the ecstasy of that
thought they gambolled round and round, they hurled themselves into
the air in great leaps of excitement. They rolled in the dew, they
cropped mouthfuls of the sweet summer grass, they kicked up clods of
the black earth and snuffed its rich scent. Then they made a tour of
inspection of the whole farm and surveyed with speechless admiration
the ploughland, the hayfield, the orchard, the pool, the spinney. It was
as though they had never seen these things before, and even now they
could hardly believe that it was all their own.
Then they filed back to the farm buildings and halted in silence outside
the door of the farmhouse. That was theirs too, but they were frightened
to go inside. After a moment, however, Snowball and Napoleon butted
the door open with their shoulders and the animals entered in single
file, walking with the utmost care for fear of disturbing anything. They
tiptoed from room to room, afraid to speak above a whisper and gazing
with a kind of awe at the unbelievable luxury, at the beds with their
feather mattresses, the looking-glasses, the horsehair sofa, the Brussels
carpet, the lithograph of Queen Victoria over the drawing-room
mantelpiece. They were lust coming down the stairs when Mollie was
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discovered to be missing. Going back, the others found that she had
remained behind in the best bedroom. She had taken a piece of blue
ribbon from Mrs. Jones's dressing-table, and was holding it against her
shoulder and admiring herself in the glass in a very foolish manner. The
others reproached her sharply, and they went outside. Some hams
hanging in the kitchen were taken out for burial, and the barrel of beer
in the scullery was stove in with a kick from Boxer's hoof, -otherwise
nothing in the house was touched. A unanimous resolution was passed
on the spot that the farmhouse should be preserved as a museum. All
were agreed that no animal must ever live there.
The animals had their breakfast, and then Snowball and Napoleon
called them together again.
"Comrades," said Snowball, "it is half-past six and we have a long day
before us. Today we begin the hay harvest. But there is another matter
that must be attended to first. "
The pigs now revealed that during the past three months they had
taught themselves to read and write from an old spelling book which
had belonged to Mr. Jones's children and which had been thrown on the
rubbish heap. Napoleon sent for pots of black and white paint and led
the way down to the five-barred gate that gave on to the main road.
Then Snowball (for it was Snowball who was best at writing) took a
brush between the two knuckles of his trotter, painted out MANOR
FARM from the top bar of the gate and in its place painted ANIMAL
FARM. This was to be the name of the farm from now onwards. After
this they went back to the farm buildings, where Snowball and
Napoleon sent for a ladder which they caused to be set against the end
wall of the big barn. They explained that by their studies of the past
three months the pigs had succeeded in reducing the principles of
Animalism to Seven Commandments. These Seven Commandments
would now be inscribed on the wall; they would form an unalterable
law by which all the animals on Animal Farm must live for ever after.
With some difficulty (for it is not easy for a pig to balance himself on a
ladder) Snowball climbed up and set to work, with Squealer a few
rungs below him holding the paint-pot. The Commandments were
written on the tarred wall in great white letters that could be read thirty
yards away. They ran thus:
THE SEVEN COMMANDMENTS
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1. Whatever goes upon two legs is an enemy.
2. Whatever goes upon four legs, or has wings, is a friend.
3. No animal shall wear clothes.
4. No animal shall sleep in a bed.
5. No animal shall drink alcohol.
6. No animal shall kill any other animal.
7. All animals are equal.
It was very neatly written, and except that "friend" was written "freind"
and one of the "S's" was the wrong way round, the spelling was correct
all the way through. Snowball read it aloud for the benefit of the others.
All the animals nodded in complete agreement, and the cleverer ones at
once began to learn the Commandments by heart.
"Now, comrades," cried Snowball, throwing down the paint-brush, "to
the hayfield! Let us make it a point of honour to get in the harvest more
quickly than Jones and his men could do. "
But at this moment the three cows, who had seemed uneasy for some
time past, set up a loud lowing. They had not been milked for
twenty-four hours, and their udders were almost bursting. After a little
thought, the pigs sent for buckets and milked the cows fairly
successfully, their trotters being well adapted to this task.
Soon there
were five buckets of frothing creamy milk at which many of the
animals looked with considerable interest.
"What is going to happen to all that milk? " said someone.
"Jones used sometimes to mix some of it in our mash," said one of the
hens.
"Never mind the milk, comrades! " cried Napoleon, placing himself in
front of the buckets. "That will be attended to. The harvest is more
important. Comrade Snowball will lead the way. I shall follow in a few
minutes. Forward, comrades! The hay is waiting. "
So the animals trooped down to the hayfield to begin the harvest, and
when they came back in the evening it was noticed that the milk had
disappeared.
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HOW they toiled and sweated to get the hay in! But their efforts were
rewarded, for the harvest was an even bigger success than they had
hoped.
Sometimes the work was hard; the implements had been designed for
human beings and not for animals, and it was a great drawback that no
animal was able to use any tool that involved standing on his hind legs.
But the pigs were so clever that they could think of a way round every
difficulty. As for the horses, they knew every inch of the field, and in
fact understood the business of mowing and raking far better than Jones
and his men had ever done. The pigs did not actually work, but directed
and supervised the others. With their superior knowledge it was natural
that they should assume the leadership. Boxer and Clover would
harness themselves to the cutter or the horse-rake (no bits or reins were
needed in these days, of course) and tramp steadily round and round the
field with a pig walking behind and calling out "Gee up, comrade! " or
"Whoa back, comrade! " as the case might be. And every animal down
to the humblest worked at turning the hay and gathering it. Even the
ducks and hens toiled to and fro all day in the sun, carrying tiny wisps
of hay in their beaks. In the end they finished the harvest in two days'
less time than it had usually taken Jones and his men. Moreover, it was
the biggest harvest that the farm had ever seen. There was no wastage
whatever; the hens and ducks with their sharp eyes had gathered up the
very last stalk. And not an animal on the farm had stolen so much as a
mouthful.
All through that summer the work of the farm went like clockwork. The
animals were happy as they had never conceived it possible to be.
Every mouthful of food was an acute positive pleasure, now that it was
truly their own food, produced by themselves and for themselves, not
doled out to them by a grudging master. With the worthless parasitical
human beings gone, there was more for everyone to eat. There was
more leisure too, inexperienced though the animals were. They met
with many difficulties-for instance, later in the year, when they
harvested the corn, they had to tread it out in the ancient style and blow
away the chaff with their breath, since the farm possessed no threshing
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machine-but the pigs with their cleverness and Boxer with his
tremendous muscles always pulled them through. Boxer was the
admiration of everybody. He had been a hard worker even in Jones's
time, but now he seemed more like three horses than one; there were
days when the entire work of the farm seemed to rest on his mighty
shoulders. From morning to night he was pushing and pulling, always
at the spot where the work was hardest. He had made an arrangement
with one of the cockerels to call him in the mornings half an hour
earlier than anyone else, and would put in some volunteer labour at
whatever seemed to be most needed, before the regular day's work
began. His answer to every problem, every setback, was "I will work
harder ["-which he had adopted as his personal motto.
But everyone worked according to his capacity The hens and ducks, for
instance, saved five bushels of corn at the harvest by gathering up the
stray grains. Nobody stole, nobody grumbled over his rations, the
quarrelling and biting and jealousy which had been normal features of
life in the old days had almost disappeared. Nobody shirked-or almost
nobody. Mollie, it was true, was not good at getting up in the mornings,
and had a way of leaving work early on the ground that there was a
stone in her hoof. And the behaviour of the cat was somewhat peculiar.
It was soon noticed that when there was work to be done the cat could
never be found. She would vanish for hours on end, and then reappear
at meal-times, or in the evening after work was over, as though nothing
had happened. But she always made such excellent excuses, and purred
so affectionately, that it was impossible not to believe in her good
intentions. Old Benjamin, the donkey, seemed quite unchanged since
the Rebellion. He did his work in the same slow obstinate way as he
had done it in Jones's time, never shirking and never volunteering for
extra work either. About the Rebellion and its results he would express
no opinion. When asked whether he was not happier now that Jones
was gone, he would say only "Donkeys live a long time. None of you
has ever seen a dead donkey," and the others had to be content with this
cryptic answer.
On Sundays there was no work. Breakfast was an hour later than usual,
and after breakfast there was a ceremony which was observed every
week without fail. First came the hoisting of the flag. Snowball had
found in the harness-room an old green tablecloth of Mrs. Jones's and
had painted on it a hoof and a horn in white. This was run up the
flagstaff in the farmhouse garden every Sunday 8, morning. The flag
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was green, Snowball explained, to represent the green fields of
England, while the hoof and horn signified the future Republic of the
Animals which would arise when the human race had been finally
overthrown. After the hoisting of the flag all the animals trooped into
the big barn for a general assembly which was known as the Meeting.
Here the work of the coming week was planned out and resolutions
were put forward and debated. It was always the pigs who put forward
the resolutions. The other animals understood how to vote, but could
never think of any resolutions of their own. Snowball and Napoleon
were by far the most active in the debates. But it was noticed that these
two were never in agreement: whatever suggestion either of them made,
the other could be counted on to oppose it. Even when it was resolved-a
thing no one could object to in itself-to set aside the small paddock
behind the orchard as a home of rest for animals who were past work,
there was a stormy debate over the correct retiring age for each class of
animal. The Meeting always ended with the singing of Beasts of
England, and the afternoon was given up to recreation.
The pigs had set aside the harness-room as a headquarters for
themselves. Here, in the evenings, they studied blacksmithing,
carpentering, and other necessary arts from books which they had
brought out of the farmhouse. Snowball also busied himself with
organising the other animals into what he called Animal Committees.
He was indefatigable at this. He formed the Egg Production Committee
for the hens, the Clean Tails League for the cows, the Wild Comrades'
Re-education Committee (the object of this was to tame the rats and
rabbits), the Whiter Wool Movement for the sheep, and various others,
besides instituting classes in reading and writing. On the whole, these
projects were a failure. The attempt to tame the wild creatures, for
instance, broke down almost immediately. They continued to behave
very much as before, and when treated with generosity, simply took
advantage of it. The cat joined the Re-education Committee and was
very active in it for some days. She was seen one day sitting on a roof
and talking to some sparrows who were just out of her reach. She was
telling them that all animals were now comrades and that any sparrow
who chose could come and perch on her paw; but the sparrows kept
their distance.
The reading and writing classes, however, were a great success. By the
autumn almost every animal on the farm was literate in some degree.
As for the pigs, they could already read and write perfectly. The dogs
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learned to read fairly well, but were not interested in reading anything
except the Seven Commandments. Muriel, the goat, could read
somewhat better than the dogs, and sometimes used to read to the
others in the evenings from scraps of newspaper which she found on
the rubbish heap. Benjamin could read as well as any pig, but never
exercised his faculty. So far as he knew, he said, there was nothing
worth reading. Clover learnt the whole alphabet, but could not put
words together. Boxer could not get beyond the letter D. He would
trace out A, B, C, D, in the dust with his great hoof, and then would
stand staring at the letters with his ears back, sometimes shaking his
forelock, trying with all his might to remember what came next and
never succeeding. On several occasions, indeed, he did learn E, F, G, H,
but by the time he knew them, it was always discovered that he had
forgotten A, B, C, and D. Finally he decided to be content with the first
four letters, and used to write them out once or twice every day to
refresh his memory. Mollie refused to learn any but the six letters
which spelt her own name. She would form these very neatly out of
pieces of twig, and would then decorate them with a flower or two and
walk round them admiring them.
None of the other animals on the farm could get further than the letter
A. It was also found that the stupider animals, such as the sheep, hens,
and ducks, were unable to learn the Seven Commandments by heart.
After much thought Snowball declared that the Seven Commandments
could in effect be reduced to a single maxim, namely: "Four legs good,
two legs bad. " This, he said, contained the essential principle of
Animalism. Whoever had thoroughly grasped it would be safe from
human influences. The birds at first objected, since it seemed to them
that they also had two legs, but Snowball proved to them that this was
not so.
"A bird's wing, comrades," he said, "is an organ of propulsion and not
of manipulation. It should therefore be regarded as a leg. The
distinguishing mark of man is the hand, the instrument with which he
does all his mischief. "
The birds did not understand Snowball's long words, but they accepted
his explanation, and all the humbler animals set to work to learn the
new maxim by heart. FOUR FEGS GOOD, TWO FEGS BAD, was
inscribed on the end wall of the barn, above the Seven Commandments
and in bigger letters When they had once got it by heart, the sheep
developed a great liking for this maxim, and often as they lay in the
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field they would all start bleating "Four legs good, two legs bad! Four
legs good, two legs bad! " and keep it up for hours on end, never
growing tired of it.
Napoleon took no interest in Snowball's committees. He said that the
education of the young was more important than anything that could be
done for those who were already grown up. It happened that Jessie and
Bluebell had both whelped soon after the hay harvest, giving birth
between them to nine sturdy puppies. As soon as they were weaned,
Napoleon took them away from their mothers, saying that he would
make himself responsible for their education. He took them up into a
loft which could only be reached by a ladder from the harness-room,
and there kept them in such seclusion that the rest of the farm soon
forgot their existence.
The mystery of where the milk went to was soon cleared up. It was
mixed every day into the pigs' mash. The early apples were now
ripening, and the grass of the orchard was littered with windfalls. The
animals had assumed as a matter of course that these would be shared
out equally; one day, however, the order went forth that all the
windfalls were to be collected and brought to the harness-room for the
use of the pigs. At this some of the other animals murmured, but it was
no use. All the pigs were in full agreement on this point, even Snowball
and Napoleon. Squealer was sent to make the necessary explanations to
the others.
"Comrades! " he cried. "You do not imagine, I hope, that we pigs are
doing this in a spirit of selfishness and privilege? Many of us actually
dislike milk and apples. I dislike them myself. Our sole object in taking
these things is to preserve our health. Milk and apples (this has been
proved by Science, comrades) contain substances absolutely necessary
to the well-being of a pig. We pigs are brainworkers. The whole
management and organisation of this farm depend on us. Day and night
we are watching over your welfare. It is for your sake that we drink that
milk and eat those apples. Do you know what would happen if we pigs
failed in our duty? Jones would come back! Yes, Jones would come
back! Surely, comrades," cried Squealer almost pleadingly, skipping
from side to side and whisking his tail, "surely there is no one among
you who wants to see Jones come back? "
Now if there was one thing that the animals were completely certain of,
it was that they did not want Jones back. When it was put to them in
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this light, they had no more to say. The importance of keeping the pigs
in good health was all too obvious. So it was agreed without further
argument that the milk and the windfall apples (and also the main crop
of apples when they ripened) should be reserved for the pigs alone.
IV
BY THE late summer the news of what had happened on Animal Farm
had spread across half the county. Every day Snowball and Napoleon
sent out flights of pigeons whose instructions were to mingle with the
animals on neighbouring farms, tell them the story of the Rebellion,
and teach them the tune of Beasts of England.
Most of this time Mr. Jones had spent sitting in the taproom of the Red
Lion at Willingdon, complaining to anyone who would listen of the
monstrous injustice he had suffered in being turned out of his property
by a pack of good-for-nothing animals. The other farmers sympathised
in principle, but they did not at first give him much help. At heart, each
of them was secretly wondering whether he could not somehow turn
Jones's misfortune to his own advantage. It was lucky that the owners
of the two farms which adjoined Animal Farm were on permanently
bad terms. One of them, which was named Foxwood, was a large,
neglected, old-fashioned farm, much overgrown by woodland, with all
its pastures worn out and its hedges in a disgraceful condition. Its
owner, Mr. Pilkington, was an easy-going gentleman farmer who spent
most of his time in fishing or hunting according to the season. The
other farm, which was called Pinchfield, was smaller and better kept.
Its owner was a Mr. Frederick, a tough, shrewd man, perpetually
involved in lawsuits and with a name for driving hard bargains. These
two disliked each other so much that it was difficult for them to come
to any agreement, even in defence of their own interests.
Nevertheless, they were both thoroughly frightened by the rebellion on
Animal Farm, and very anxious to prevent their own animals from
learning too much about it. At first they pretended to laugh to scorn the
idea of animals managing a farm for themselves. The whole thing
would be over in a fortnight, they said. They put it about that the
animals on the Manor Farm (they insisted on calling it the Manor Farm;
they would not tolerate the name "Animal Farm") were perpetually
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fighting among themselves and were also rapidly starving to death.
When time passed and the animals had evidently not starved to death,
Frederick and Pilkington changed their tune and began to talk of the
terrible wickedness that now flourished on Animal Farm. It was given
out that the animals there practised cannibalism, tortured one another
with red-hot horseshoes, and had their females in common. This was
what came of rebelling against the laws of Nature, Frederick and
Pilkington said.
However, these stories were never fully believed. Rumours of a
wonderful farm, where the human beings had been turned out and the
animals managed their own affairs, continued to circulate in vague and
distorted forms, and throughout that year a wave of rebelliousness ran
through the countryside. Bulls which had always been tractable
suddenly turned savage, sheep broke down hedges and devoured the
clover, cows kicked the pail over, hunters refused their fences and shot
their riders on to the other side. Above all, the tune and even the words
of Beasts of England were known everywhere. It had spread with
astonishing speed. The human beings could not contain their rage when
they heard this song, though they pretended to think it merely
ridiculous. They could not understand, they said, how even animals
could bring themselves to sing such contemptible rubbish. Any animal
caught singing it was given a flogging on the spot. And yet the song
was irrepressible. The blackbirds whistled it in the hedges, the pigeons
cooed it in the elms, it got into the din of the smithies and the tune of
the church bells. And when the human beings listened to it, they
secretly trembled, hearing in it a prophecy of their future doom.
Early in October, when the corn was cut and stacked and some of it was
already threshed, a flight of pigeons came whirling through the air and
alighted in the yard of Animal Farm in the wildest excitement. Jones
and all his men, with half a dozen others from Foxwood and Pinchfield,
had entered the five-barred gate and were coming up the cart-track that
led to the farm. They were all carrying sticks, except Jones, who was
marching ahead with a gun in his hands. Obviously they were going to
attempt the recapture of the farm.
This had long been expected, and all preparations had been made.
Snowball, who had studied an old book of Julius Caesar's campaigns
which he had found in the farmhouse, was in charge of the defensive
operations. He gave his orders quickly, and in a couple of minutes
every animal was at his post.
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As the human beings approached the farm buildings, Snowball
launched his first attack.
