There was also "Animal Hero,
Second Class," which was conferred posthumously on the dead sheep.
Second Class," which was conferred posthumously on the dead sheep.
Orwell - Animal Farm
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. All the pigeons, to the number of thirty-five,
flew to and fro over the men's heads and muted upon them from
mid-air; and while the men were dealing with this, the geese, who had
been hiding behind the hedge, rushed out and pecked viciously at the
calves of their legs. However, this was only a light skirmishing
manoeuvre, intended to create a little disorder, and the men easily drove
the geese off with their sticks. Snowball now launched his second line
of attack. Muriel, Benjamin, and all the sheep, with Snowball at the
head of them, rushed forward and prodded and butted the men from
every side, while Benjamin turned around and lashed at them with his
small hoofs. But once again the men, with their sticks and their
hobnailed boots, were too strong for them; and suddenly, at a squeal
from Snowball, which was the signal for retreat, all the animals turned
and fled through the gateway into the yard.
The men gave a shout of triumph. They saw, as they imagined, their
enemies in flight, and they rushed after them in disorder. This was just
what Snowball had intended. As soon as they were well inside the yard,
the three horses, the three cows, and the rest of the pigs, who had been
lying in ambush in the cowshed, suddenly emerged in their rear, cutting
them off. Snowball now gave the signal for the charge. He himself
dashed straight for Jones. Jones saw him coming, raised his gun and
fired. The pellets scored bloody streaks along Snowball's back, and a
sheep dropped dead. Without halting for an instant, Snowball flung his
fifteen stone against Jones's legs. Jones was hurled into a pile of dung
and his gun flew out of his hands. But the most terrifying spectacle of
all was Boxer, rearing up on his hind legs and striking out with his
great iron-shod hoofs like a stallion. His very first blow took a
stable-lad from Foxwood on the skull and stretched him lifeless in the
mud. At the sight, several men dropped their sticks and tried to run.
Panic overtook them, and the next moment all the animals together
were chasing them round and round the yard. They were gored, kicked,
bitten, trampled on. There was not an animal on the farm that did not
take vengeance on them after his own fashion. Even the cat suddenly
leapt off a roof onto a cowman's shoulders and sank her claws in his
neck, at which he yelled horribly. At a moment when the opening was
clear, the men were glad enough to rush out of the yard and make a bolt
for the main road. And so within five minutes of their invasion they
were in ignominious retreat by the same way as they had come, with a
flock of geese hissing after them and pecking at their calves all the way.
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All the men were gone except one. Back in the yard Boxer was pawing
with his hoof at the stable-lad who lay face down in the mud, trying to
turn him over. The boy did not stir.
"He is dead," said Boxer sorrowfully. "I had no intention of doing that.
I forgot that I was wearing iron shoes. Who will believe that I did not
do this on purpose? "
"No sentimentality, comrade! " cried Snowball from whose wounds the
blood was still dripping. "War is war. The only good human being is a
dead one. "
"I have no wish to take life, not even human life," repeated Boxer, and
his eyes were full of tears.
"Where is Mollie? " exclaimed somebody.
Mollie in fact was missing. For a moment there was great alarm; it was
feared that the men might have harmed her in some way, or even
carried her off with them. In the end, however, she was found hiding in
her stall with her head buried among the hay in the manger. She had
taken to flight as soon as the gun went off. And when the others came
back from looking for her, it was to find that the stable-lad, who in fact
was only stunned, had already recovered and made off.
The animals had now reassembled in the wildest excitement, each
recounting his own exploits in the battle at the top of his voice. An
impromptu celebration of the victory was held immediately. The flag
was run up and Beasts of England was sung a number of times, then the
sheep who had been killed was given a solemn funeral, a hawthorn
bush being planted on her grave. At the graveside Snowball made a
little speech, emphasising the need for all animals to be ready to die for
Animal Farm if need be.
The animals decided unanimously to create a military decoration,
"Animal Hero, First Class," which was conferred there and then on
Snowball and Boxer. It consisted of a brass medal (they were really
some old horse-brasses which had been found in the harness-room), to
be worn on Sundays and holidays.
There was also "Animal Hero,
Second Class," which was conferred posthumously on the dead sheep.
There was much discussion as to what the battle should be called. In the
end, it was named the Battle of the Cowshed, since that was where the
ambush had been sprung. Mr. Jones's gun had been found lying in the
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mud, and it was known that there was a supply of cartridges in the
farmhouse. It was decided to set the gun up at the foot of the Flagstaff,
like a piece of artillery, and to fire it twice a year-once on October the
twelfth, the anniversary of the Battle of the Cowshed, and once on
Midsummer Day, the anniversary of the Rebellion.
V
AS WINTER drew on, Mollie became more and more troublesome.
She was late for work every morning and excused herself by saying that
she had overslept, and she complained of mysterious pains, although
her appetite was excellent. On every kind of pretext she would run
away from work and go to the drinking pool, where she would stand
foolishly gazing at her own reflection in the water. But there were also
rumours of something more serious. One day, as Mollie strolled
blithely into the yard, flirting her long tail and chewing at a stalk of
hay, Clover took her aside.
"Mollie," she said, "I have something very serious to say to you. This
morning I saw you looking over the hedge that divides Animal Farm
from Foxwood. One of Mr. Pilkington's men was standing on the other
side of the hedge. And-I was a long way away, but I am almost certain I
saw this-he was talking to you and you were allowing him to stroke
your nose. What does that mean, Mollie? "
"He didn't! I wasn't! It isn't true! " cried Mollie, beginning to prance
about and paw the ground.
"Mollie! Look me in the face. Do you give me your word of honour
that that man was not stroking your nose? "
"It isn't true! " repeated Mollie, but she could not look Clover in the
face, and the next moment she took to her heels and galloped away into
the field.
A thought struck Clover. Without saying anything to the others, she
went to Mollie's stall and turned over the straw with her hoof. Hidden
under the straw was a little pile of lump sugar and several bunches of
ribbon of different colours.
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Three days later Mollie disappeared. For some weeks nothing was
known of her whereabouts, then the pigeons reported that they had seen
her on the other side of Willingdon. She was between the shafts of a
smart dogcart painted red and black, which was standing outside a
public-house. A fat red-faced man in check breeches and gaiters, who
looked like a publican, was stroking her nose and feeding her with
sugar. Her coat was newly clipped and she wore a scarlet ribbon round
her forelock. She appeared to be enjoying herself, so the pigeons said.
None of the animals ever mentioned Mollie again.
In January there came bitterly hard weather. The earth was like iron,
and nothing could be done in the fields. Many meetings were held in
the big barn, and the pigs occupied themselves with planning out the
work of the coming season. It had come to be accepted that the pigs,
who were manifestly cleverer than the other animals, should decide all
questions of farm policy, though their decisions had to be ratified by a
majority vote. This arrangement would have worked well enough if it
had not been for the disputes between Snowball and Napoleon. These
two disagreed at every point where disagreement was possible. If one
of them suggested sowing a bigger acreage with barley, the other was
certain to demand a bigger acreage of oats, and if one of them said that
such and such a field was just right for cabbages, the other would
declare that it was useless for anything except roots. Each had his own
following, and there were some violent debates. At the Meetings
Snowball often won over the majority by his brilliant speeches, but
Napoleon was better at canvassing support for himself in between
times. He was especially successful with the sheep. Of late the sheep
had taken to bleating "Four legs good, two legs bad" both in and out of
season, and they often interrupted the Meeting with this. It was noticed
that they were especially liable to break into "Four legs good, two legs
bad" at crucial moments in Snowball's speeches. Snowball had made a
close study of some back numbers of the Farmer and Stockbreeder
which he had found in the farmhouse, and was full of plans for
innovations and improvements. He talked learnedly about field drains,
silage, and basic slag, and had worked out a complicated scheme for all
the animals to drop their dung directly in the fields, at a different spot
every day, to save the labour of cartage. Napoleon produced no
schemes of his own, but said quietly that Snowball's would come to
nothing, and seemed to be biding his time. But of all their
controversies, none was so bitter as the one that took place over the
windmill.
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In the long pasture, not far from the farm buildings, there was a small
knoll which was the highest point on the farm. After surveying the
ground, Snowball declared that this was just the place for a windmill,
which could be made to operate a dynamo and supply the farm with
electrical power. This would light the stalls and warm them in winter,
and would also run a circular saw, a chaff-cutter, a mangel-slicer, and
an electric milking machine. The animals had never heard of anything
of this kind before (for the farm was an old-fashioned one and had only
the most primitive machinery), and they listened in astonishment while
Snowball conjured up pictures of fantastic machines which would do
their work for them while they grazed at their ease in the fields or
improved their minds with reading and conversation.
Within a few weeks Snowball's plans for the windmill were fully
worked out. The mechanical details came mostly from three books
which had belonged to Mr. Jones - One Thousand Useful Things to Do
About the House, Every Man His Own Bricklayer, and Electricity for
Beginners. Snowball used as his study a shed which had once been used
for incubators and had a smooth wooden floor, suitable for drawing on.
He was closeted there for hours at a time. With his books held open by
a stone, and with a piece of chalk gripped between the knuckles of his
trotter, he would move rapidly to and fro, drawing in line after line and
uttering little whimpers of excitement. Gradually the plans grew into a
complicated mass of cranks and cog-wheels, covering more than half
the floor, which the other animals found completely unintelligible but
very impressive. All of them came to look at Snowball's drawings at
least once a day. Even the hens and ducks came, and were at pains not
to tread on the chalk marks. Only Napoleon held aloof. He had declared
himself against the windmill from the start. One day, however, he
arrived unexpectedly to examine the plans. He walked heavily round
the shed, looked closely at every detail of the plans and snuffed at them
once or twice, then stood for a little while contemplating them out of
the corner of his eye; then suddenly he lifted his leg, urinated over the
plans, and walked out without uttering a word.
The whole farm was deeply divided on the subject of the windmill.
Snowball did not deny that to build it would be a difficult business.
Stone would have to be carried and built up into walls, then the sails
would have to be made and after that there would be need for dynamos
and cables. (How these were to be procured, Snowball did not say. ) But
he maintained that it could all be done in a year. And thereafter, he
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declared, so much labour would be saved that the animals would only
need to work three days a week. Napoleon, on the other hand, argued
that the great need of the moment was to increase food production, and
that if they wasted time on the windmill they would all starve to death.
The animals formed themselves into two factions under the slogan,
"Vote for Snowball and the three-day week" and "Vote for Napoleon
and the full manger. " Benjamin was the only animal who did not side
with either faction. He refused to believe either that food would become
more plentiful or that the windmill would save work. Windmill or no
windmill, he said, life would go on as it had always gone on-that is,
badly.
Apart from the disputes over the windmill, there was the question of the
defence of the farm. It was fully realised that though the human beings
had been defeated in the Battle of the Cowshed they might make
another and more determined attempt to recapture the farm and
reinstate Mr. Jones. They had all the more reason for doing so because
the news of their defeat had spread across the countryside and made the
animals on the neighbouring farms more restive than ever. As usual,
Snowball and Napoleon were in disagreement. According to Napoleon,
what the animals must do was to procure firearms and train themselves
in the use of them. According to Snowball, they must send out more
and more pigeons and stir up rebellion among the animals on the other
farms. The one argued that if they could not defend themselves they
were bound to be conquered, the other argued that if rebellions
happened everywhere they would have no need to defend themselves.
The animals listened first to Napoleon, then to Snowball, and could not
make up their minds which was right; indeed, they always found
themselves in agreement with the one who was speaking at the
moment.
At last the day came when Snowball's plans were completed. At the
Meeting on the following Sunday the question of whether or not to
begin work on the windmill was to be put to the vote. When the
animals had assembled in the big barn, Snowball stood up and, though
occasionally interrupted by bleating from the sheep, set forth his
reasons for advocating the building of the windmill. Then Napoleon
stood up to reply. He said very quietly that the windmill was nonsense
and that he advised nobody to vote for it, and promptly sat down again;
he had spoken for barely thirty seconds, and seemed almost indifferent
as to the effect he produced. At this Snowball sprang to his feet, and
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shouting down the sheep, who had begun bleating again, broke into a
passionate appeal in favour of the windmill. Until now the animals had
been about equally divided in their sympathies, but in a moment
Snowball's eloquence had carried them away. In glowing sentences he
painted a picture of Animal Farm as it might be when sordid labour was
lifted from the animals' backs. His imagination had now run far beyond
chaff-cutters and turnip-slicers. Electricity, he said, could operate
threshing machines, ploughs, harrows, rollers, and reapers and binders,
besides supplying every stall with its own electric light, hot and cold
water, and an electric heater. By the time he had finished speaking,
there was no doubt as to which way the vote would go. But just at this
moment Napoleon stood up and, casting a peculiar sidelong look at
Snowball, uttered a high-pitched whimper of a kind no one had ever
heard him utter before.
At this there was a terrible baying sound outside, and nine enormous
dogs wearing brass-studded collars came bounding into the barn. They
dashed straight for Snowball, who only sprang from his place just in
time to escape their snapping jaws. In a moment he was out of the door
and they were after him. Too amazed and frightened to speak, all the
animals crowded through the door to watch the chase. Snowball was
racing across the long pasture that led to the road. He was running as
only a pig can run, but the dogs were close on his heels. Suddenly he
slipped and it seemed certain that they had him. Then he was up again,
running faster than ever, then the dogs were gaining on him again. One
of them all but closed his jaws on Snowball's tail, but Snowball
whisked it free just in time. Then he put on an extra spurt and, with a
few inches to spare, slipped through a hole in the hedge and was seen
no more.
Silent and terrified, the animals crept back into the bam. In a moment
the dogs came bounding back. At first no one had been able to imagine
where these creatures came from, but the problem was soon solved:
they were the puppies whom Napoleon had taken away from their
mothers and reared privately. Though not yet full-grown, they were
huge dogs, and as fierce-looking as wolves. They kept close to
Napoleon. It was noticed that they wagged their tails to him in the same
way as the other dogs had been used to do to Mr. Jones.
Napoleon, with the dogs following him, now mounted on to the raised
portion of the floor where Major had previously stood to deliver his
speech. He announced that from now on the Sunday-morning Meetings
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would come to an end. They were unnecessary, he said, and wasted
time. In future all questions relating to the working of the farm would
be settled by a special committee of pigs, presided over by himself.
These would meet in private and afterwards communicate their
decisions to the others. The animals would still assemble on Sunday
mornings to salute the flag, sing Beasts of England, and receive their
orders for the week; but there would be no more debates.
In spite of the shock that Snowball's expulsion had given them, the
animals were dismayed by this announcement. Several of them would
have protested if they could have found the right arguments. Even
Boxer was vaguely troubled. He set his ears back, shook his forelock
several times, and tried hard to marshal his thoughts; but in the end he
could not think of anything to say. Some of the pigs themselves,
however, were more articulate. Four young porkers in the front row
uttered shrill squeals of disapproval, and all four of them sprang to their
feet and began speaking at once. But suddenly the dogs sitting round
Napoleon let out deep, menacing growls, and the pigs fell silent and sat
down again. Then the sheep broke out into a tremendous bleating of
"Four legs good, two legs bad! " which went on for nearly a quarter of
an hour and put an end to any chance of discussion.
Afterwards Squealer was sent round the farm to explain the new
arrangement to the others.
"Comrades," he said, "I trust that every animal here appreciates the
sacrifice that Comrade Napoleon has made in taking this extra labour
upon himself. Do not imagine, comrades, that leadership is a pleasure!
On the contrary, it is a deep and heavy responsibility. No one believes
more firmly than Comrade Napoleon that all animals are equal. He
would be only too happy to let you make your decisions for yourselves.
But sometimes you might make the wrong decisions, comrades, and
then where should we be? Suppose you had decided to follow
Snowball, with his moonshine of windmills-Snowball, who, as we now
know, was no better than a criminal? "
"He fought bravely at the Battle of the Cowshed," said somebody.
"Bravery is not enough," said Squealer. "Loyalty and obedience are
more important. And as to the Battle of the Cowshed, I believe the time
will come when we shall find that Snowball’s part in it was much
exaggerated. Discipline, comrades, iron discipline! That is the
watchword for today. One false step, and our enemies would be upon
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us. Surely, comrades, you do not want Jones back? "
Once again this argument was unanswerable. Certainly the animals did
not want Jones back; if the holding of debates on Sunday mornings was
liable to bring him back, then the debates must stop. Boxer, who had
now had time to think things over, voiced the general feeling by saying:
"If Comrade Napoleon says it, it must be right. " And from then on he
adopted the maxim, "Napoleon is always right," in addition to his
private motto of "I will work harder. "
By this time the weather had broken and the spring ploughing had
begun. The shed where Snowball had drawn his plans of the windmill
had been shut up and it was assumed that the plans had been rubbed off
the floor. Every Sunday morning at ten o'clock the animals assembled
in the big barn to receive their orders for the week. The skull of old
Major, now clean of flesh, had been disinterred from the orchard and
set up on a stump at the foot of the flagstaff, beside the gun. After the
hoisting of the flag, the animals were required to file past the skull in a
reverent manner before entering the barn. Nowadays they did not sit all
together as they had done in the past. Napoleon, with Squealer and
another pig named Minimus, who had a remarkable gift for composing
songs and poems, sat on the front of the raised platform, with the nine
young dogs forming a semicircle round them, and the other pigs sitting
behind. The rest of the animals sat facing them in the main body of the
barn. Napoleon read out the orders for the week in a gruff soldierly
style, and after a single singing of Beasts of England, all the animals
dispersed.
On the third Sunday after Snowball's expulsion, the animals were
somewhat surprised to hear Napoleon announce that the windmill was
to be built after all. He did not give any reason for having changed his
mind, but merely warned the animals that this extra task would mean
very hard work, it might even be necessary to reduce their rations. The
plans, however, had all been prepared, down to the last detail. A special
committee of pigs had been at work upon them for the past three weeks.
The building of the windmill, with various other improvements, was
expected to take two years.
That evening Squealer explained privately to the other animals that
Napoleon had never in reality been opposed to the windmill. On the
contrary, it was he who had advocated it in the beginning, and the plan
which Snowball had drawn on the floor of the incubator shed had
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actually been stolen from among Napoleon's papers. The windmill was,
in fact, Napoleon's own creation. Why, then, asked somebody, had he
spoken so strongly against it? Here Squealer looked very sly. That, he
said, was Comrade Napoleon's cunning. He had seemed to oppose the
windmill, simply as a manoeuvre to get rid of Snowball, who was a
dangerous character and a bad influence. Now that Snowball was out of
the way, the plan could go forward without his interference. This, said
Squealer, was something called tactics. He repeated a number of times,
"Tactics, comrades, tactics!
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. All the pigeons, to the number of thirty-five,
flew to and fro over the men's heads and muted upon them from
mid-air; and while the men were dealing with this, the geese, who had
been hiding behind the hedge, rushed out and pecked viciously at the
calves of their legs. However, this was only a light skirmishing
manoeuvre, intended to create a little disorder, and the men easily drove
the geese off with their sticks. Snowball now launched his second line
of attack. Muriel, Benjamin, and all the sheep, with Snowball at the
head of them, rushed forward and prodded and butted the men from
every side, while Benjamin turned around and lashed at them with his
small hoofs. But once again the men, with their sticks and their
hobnailed boots, were too strong for them; and suddenly, at a squeal
from Snowball, which was the signal for retreat, all the animals turned
and fled through the gateway into the yard.
The men gave a shout of triumph. They saw, as they imagined, their
enemies in flight, and they rushed after them in disorder. This was just
what Snowball had intended. As soon as they were well inside the yard,
the three horses, the three cows, and the rest of the pigs, who had been
lying in ambush in the cowshed, suddenly emerged in their rear, cutting
them off. Snowball now gave the signal for the charge. He himself
dashed straight for Jones. Jones saw him coming, raised his gun and
fired. The pellets scored bloody streaks along Snowball's back, and a
sheep dropped dead. Without halting for an instant, Snowball flung his
fifteen stone against Jones's legs. Jones was hurled into a pile of dung
and his gun flew out of his hands. But the most terrifying spectacle of
all was Boxer, rearing up on his hind legs and striking out with his
great iron-shod hoofs like a stallion. His very first blow took a
stable-lad from Foxwood on the skull and stretched him lifeless in the
mud. At the sight, several men dropped their sticks and tried to run.
Panic overtook them, and the next moment all the animals together
were chasing them round and round the yard. They were gored, kicked,
bitten, trampled on. There was not an animal on the farm that did not
take vengeance on them after his own fashion. Even the cat suddenly
leapt off a roof onto a cowman's shoulders and sank her claws in his
neck, at which he yelled horribly. At a moment when the opening was
clear, the men were glad enough to rush out of the yard and make a bolt
for the main road. And so within five minutes of their invasion they
were in ignominious retreat by the same way as they had come, with a
flock of geese hissing after them and pecking at their calves all the way.
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All the men were gone except one. Back in the yard Boxer was pawing
with his hoof at the stable-lad who lay face down in the mud, trying to
turn him over. The boy did not stir.
"He is dead," said Boxer sorrowfully. "I had no intention of doing that.
I forgot that I was wearing iron shoes. Who will believe that I did not
do this on purpose? "
"No sentimentality, comrade! " cried Snowball from whose wounds the
blood was still dripping. "War is war. The only good human being is a
dead one. "
"I have no wish to take life, not even human life," repeated Boxer, and
his eyes were full of tears.
"Where is Mollie? " exclaimed somebody.
Mollie in fact was missing. For a moment there was great alarm; it was
feared that the men might have harmed her in some way, or even
carried her off with them. In the end, however, she was found hiding in
her stall with her head buried among the hay in the manger. She had
taken to flight as soon as the gun went off. And when the others came
back from looking for her, it was to find that the stable-lad, who in fact
was only stunned, had already recovered and made off.
The animals had now reassembled in the wildest excitement, each
recounting his own exploits in the battle at the top of his voice. An
impromptu celebration of the victory was held immediately. The flag
was run up and Beasts of England was sung a number of times, then the
sheep who had been killed was given a solemn funeral, a hawthorn
bush being planted on her grave. At the graveside Snowball made a
little speech, emphasising the need for all animals to be ready to die for
Animal Farm if need be.
The animals decided unanimously to create a military decoration,
"Animal Hero, First Class," which was conferred there and then on
Snowball and Boxer. It consisted of a brass medal (they were really
some old horse-brasses which had been found in the harness-room), to
be worn on Sundays and holidays.
There was also "Animal Hero,
Second Class," which was conferred posthumously on the dead sheep.
There was much discussion as to what the battle should be called. In the
end, it was named the Battle of the Cowshed, since that was where the
ambush had been sprung. Mr. Jones's gun had been found lying in the
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mud, and it was known that there was a supply of cartridges in the
farmhouse. It was decided to set the gun up at the foot of the Flagstaff,
like a piece of artillery, and to fire it twice a year-once on October the
twelfth, the anniversary of the Battle of the Cowshed, and once on
Midsummer Day, the anniversary of the Rebellion.
V
AS WINTER drew on, Mollie became more and more troublesome.
She was late for work every morning and excused herself by saying that
she had overslept, and she complained of mysterious pains, although
her appetite was excellent. On every kind of pretext she would run
away from work and go to the drinking pool, where she would stand
foolishly gazing at her own reflection in the water. But there were also
rumours of something more serious. One day, as Mollie strolled
blithely into the yard, flirting her long tail and chewing at a stalk of
hay, Clover took her aside.
"Mollie," she said, "I have something very serious to say to you. This
morning I saw you looking over the hedge that divides Animal Farm
from Foxwood. One of Mr. Pilkington's men was standing on the other
side of the hedge. And-I was a long way away, but I am almost certain I
saw this-he was talking to you and you were allowing him to stroke
your nose. What does that mean, Mollie? "
"He didn't! I wasn't! It isn't true! " cried Mollie, beginning to prance
about and paw the ground.
"Mollie! Look me in the face. Do you give me your word of honour
that that man was not stroking your nose? "
"It isn't true! " repeated Mollie, but she could not look Clover in the
face, and the next moment she took to her heels and galloped away into
the field.
A thought struck Clover. Without saying anything to the others, she
went to Mollie's stall and turned over the straw with her hoof. Hidden
under the straw was a little pile of lump sugar and several bunches of
ribbon of different colours.
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Three days later Mollie disappeared. For some weeks nothing was
known of her whereabouts, then the pigeons reported that they had seen
her on the other side of Willingdon. She was between the shafts of a
smart dogcart painted red and black, which was standing outside a
public-house. A fat red-faced man in check breeches and gaiters, who
looked like a publican, was stroking her nose and feeding her with
sugar. Her coat was newly clipped and she wore a scarlet ribbon round
her forelock. She appeared to be enjoying herself, so the pigeons said.
None of the animals ever mentioned Mollie again.
In January there came bitterly hard weather. The earth was like iron,
and nothing could be done in the fields. Many meetings were held in
the big barn, and the pigs occupied themselves with planning out the
work of the coming season. It had come to be accepted that the pigs,
who were manifestly cleverer than the other animals, should decide all
questions of farm policy, though their decisions had to be ratified by a
majority vote. This arrangement would have worked well enough if it
had not been for the disputes between Snowball and Napoleon. These
two disagreed at every point where disagreement was possible. If one
of them suggested sowing a bigger acreage with barley, the other was
certain to demand a bigger acreage of oats, and if one of them said that
such and such a field was just right for cabbages, the other would
declare that it was useless for anything except roots. Each had his own
following, and there were some violent debates. At the Meetings
Snowball often won over the majority by his brilliant speeches, but
Napoleon was better at canvassing support for himself in between
times. He was especially successful with the sheep. Of late the sheep
had taken to bleating "Four legs good, two legs bad" both in and out of
season, and they often interrupted the Meeting with this. It was noticed
that they were especially liable to break into "Four legs good, two legs
bad" at crucial moments in Snowball's speeches. Snowball had made a
close study of some back numbers of the Farmer and Stockbreeder
which he had found in the farmhouse, and was full of plans for
innovations and improvements. He talked learnedly about field drains,
silage, and basic slag, and had worked out a complicated scheme for all
the animals to drop their dung directly in the fields, at a different spot
every day, to save the labour of cartage. Napoleon produced no
schemes of his own, but said quietly that Snowball's would come to
nothing, and seemed to be biding his time. But of all their
controversies, none was so bitter as the one that took place over the
windmill.
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Animal Farm by George Orwell
In the long pasture, not far from the farm buildings, there was a small
knoll which was the highest point on the farm. After surveying the
ground, Snowball declared that this was just the place for a windmill,
which could be made to operate a dynamo and supply the farm with
electrical power. This would light the stalls and warm them in winter,
and would also run a circular saw, a chaff-cutter, a mangel-slicer, and
an electric milking machine. The animals had never heard of anything
of this kind before (for the farm was an old-fashioned one and had only
the most primitive machinery), and they listened in astonishment while
Snowball conjured up pictures of fantastic machines which would do
their work for them while they grazed at their ease in the fields or
improved their minds with reading and conversation.
Within a few weeks Snowball's plans for the windmill were fully
worked out. The mechanical details came mostly from three books
which had belonged to Mr. Jones - One Thousand Useful Things to Do
About the House, Every Man His Own Bricklayer, and Electricity for
Beginners. Snowball used as his study a shed which had once been used
for incubators and had a smooth wooden floor, suitable for drawing on.
He was closeted there for hours at a time. With his books held open by
a stone, and with a piece of chalk gripped between the knuckles of his
trotter, he would move rapidly to and fro, drawing in line after line and
uttering little whimpers of excitement. Gradually the plans grew into a
complicated mass of cranks and cog-wheels, covering more than half
the floor, which the other animals found completely unintelligible but
very impressive. All of them came to look at Snowball's drawings at
least once a day. Even the hens and ducks came, and were at pains not
to tread on the chalk marks. Only Napoleon held aloof. He had declared
himself against the windmill from the start. One day, however, he
arrived unexpectedly to examine the plans. He walked heavily round
the shed, looked closely at every detail of the plans and snuffed at them
once or twice, then stood for a little while contemplating them out of
the corner of his eye; then suddenly he lifted his leg, urinated over the
plans, and walked out without uttering a word.
The whole farm was deeply divided on the subject of the windmill.
Snowball did not deny that to build it would be a difficult business.
Stone would have to be carried and built up into walls, then the sails
would have to be made and after that there would be need for dynamos
and cables. (How these were to be procured, Snowball did not say. ) But
he maintained that it could all be done in a year. And thereafter, he
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Animal Farm by George Orwell
declared, so much labour would be saved that the animals would only
need to work three days a week. Napoleon, on the other hand, argued
that the great need of the moment was to increase food production, and
that if they wasted time on the windmill they would all starve to death.
The animals formed themselves into two factions under the slogan,
"Vote for Snowball and the three-day week" and "Vote for Napoleon
and the full manger. " Benjamin was the only animal who did not side
with either faction. He refused to believe either that food would become
more plentiful or that the windmill would save work. Windmill or no
windmill, he said, life would go on as it had always gone on-that is,
badly.
Apart from the disputes over the windmill, there was the question of the
defence of the farm. It was fully realised that though the human beings
had been defeated in the Battle of the Cowshed they might make
another and more determined attempt to recapture the farm and
reinstate Mr. Jones. They had all the more reason for doing so because
the news of their defeat had spread across the countryside and made the
animals on the neighbouring farms more restive than ever. As usual,
Snowball and Napoleon were in disagreement. According to Napoleon,
what the animals must do was to procure firearms and train themselves
in the use of them. According to Snowball, they must send out more
and more pigeons and stir up rebellion among the animals on the other
farms. The one argued that if they could not defend themselves they
were bound to be conquered, the other argued that if rebellions
happened everywhere they would have no need to defend themselves.
The animals listened first to Napoleon, then to Snowball, and could not
make up their minds which was right; indeed, they always found
themselves in agreement with the one who was speaking at the
moment.
At last the day came when Snowball's plans were completed. At the
Meeting on the following Sunday the question of whether or not to
begin work on the windmill was to be put to the vote. When the
animals had assembled in the big barn, Snowball stood up and, though
occasionally interrupted by bleating from the sheep, set forth his
reasons for advocating the building of the windmill. Then Napoleon
stood up to reply. He said very quietly that the windmill was nonsense
and that he advised nobody to vote for it, and promptly sat down again;
he had spoken for barely thirty seconds, and seemed almost indifferent
as to the effect he produced. At this Snowball sprang to his feet, and
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Animal Farm by George Orwell
shouting down the sheep, who had begun bleating again, broke into a
passionate appeal in favour of the windmill. Until now the animals had
been about equally divided in their sympathies, but in a moment
Snowball's eloquence had carried them away. In glowing sentences he
painted a picture of Animal Farm as it might be when sordid labour was
lifted from the animals' backs. His imagination had now run far beyond
chaff-cutters and turnip-slicers. Electricity, he said, could operate
threshing machines, ploughs, harrows, rollers, and reapers and binders,
besides supplying every stall with its own electric light, hot and cold
water, and an electric heater. By the time he had finished speaking,
there was no doubt as to which way the vote would go. But just at this
moment Napoleon stood up and, casting a peculiar sidelong look at
Snowball, uttered a high-pitched whimper of a kind no one had ever
heard him utter before.
At this there was a terrible baying sound outside, and nine enormous
dogs wearing brass-studded collars came bounding into the barn. They
dashed straight for Snowball, who only sprang from his place just in
time to escape their snapping jaws. In a moment he was out of the door
and they were after him. Too amazed and frightened to speak, all the
animals crowded through the door to watch the chase. Snowball was
racing across the long pasture that led to the road. He was running as
only a pig can run, but the dogs were close on his heels. Suddenly he
slipped and it seemed certain that they had him. Then he was up again,
running faster than ever, then the dogs were gaining on him again. One
of them all but closed his jaws on Snowball's tail, but Snowball
whisked it free just in time. Then he put on an extra spurt and, with a
few inches to spare, slipped through a hole in the hedge and was seen
no more.
Silent and terrified, the animals crept back into the bam. In a moment
the dogs came bounding back. At first no one had been able to imagine
where these creatures came from, but the problem was soon solved:
they were the puppies whom Napoleon had taken away from their
mothers and reared privately. Though not yet full-grown, they were
huge dogs, and as fierce-looking as wolves. They kept close to
Napoleon. It was noticed that they wagged their tails to him in the same
way as the other dogs had been used to do to Mr. Jones.
Napoleon, with the dogs following him, now mounted on to the raised
portion of the floor where Major had previously stood to deliver his
speech. He announced that from now on the Sunday-morning Meetings
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Animal Farm by George Orwell
would come to an end. They were unnecessary, he said, and wasted
time. In future all questions relating to the working of the farm would
be settled by a special committee of pigs, presided over by himself.
These would meet in private and afterwards communicate their
decisions to the others. The animals would still assemble on Sunday
mornings to salute the flag, sing Beasts of England, and receive their
orders for the week; but there would be no more debates.
In spite of the shock that Snowball's expulsion had given them, the
animals were dismayed by this announcement. Several of them would
have protested if they could have found the right arguments. Even
Boxer was vaguely troubled. He set his ears back, shook his forelock
several times, and tried hard to marshal his thoughts; but in the end he
could not think of anything to say. Some of the pigs themselves,
however, were more articulate. Four young porkers in the front row
uttered shrill squeals of disapproval, and all four of them sprang to their
feet and began speaking at once. But suddenly the dogs sitting round
Napoleon let out deep, menacing growls, and the pigs fell silent and sat
down again. Then the sheep broke out into a tremendous bleating of
"Four legs good, two legs bad! " which went on for nearly a quarter of
an hour and put an end to any chance of discussion.
Afterwards Squealer was sent round the farm to explain the new
arrangement to the others.
"Comrades," he said, "I trust that every animal here appreciates the
sacrifice that Comrade Napoleon has made in taking this extra labour
upon himself. Do not imagine, comrades, that leadership is a pleasure!
On the contrary, it is a deep and heavy responsibility. No one believes
more firmly than Comrade Napoleon that all animals are equal. He
would be only too happy to let you make your decisions for yourselves.
But sometimes you might make the wrong decisions, comrades, and
then where should we be? Suppose you had decided to follow
Snowball, with his moonshine of windmills-Snowball, who, as we now
know, was no better than a criminal? "
"He fought bravely at the Battle of the Cowshed," said somebody.
"Bravery is not enough," said Squealer. "Loyalty and obedience are
more important. And as to the Battle of the Cowshed, I believe the time
will come when we shall find that Snowball’s part in it was much
exaggerated. Discipline, comrades, iron discipline! That is the
watchword for today. One false step, and our enemies would be upon
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Animal Farm by George Orwell
us. Surely, comrades, you do not want Jones back? "
Once again this argument was unanswerable. Certainly the animals did
not want Jones back; if the holding of debates on Sunday mornings was
liable to bring him back, then the debates must stop. Boxer, who had
now had time to think things over, voiced the general feeling by saying:
"If Comrade Napoleon says it, it must be right. " And from then on he
adopted the maxim, "Napoleon is always right," in addition to his
private motto of "I will work harder. "
By this time the weather had broken and the spring ploughing had
begun. The shed where Snowball had drawn his plans of the windmill
had been shut up and it was assumed that the plans had been rubbed off
the floor. Every Sunday morning at ten o'clock the animals assembled
in the big barn to receive their orders for the week. The skull of old
Major, now clean of flesh, had been disinterred from the orchard and
set up on a stump at the foot of the flagstaff, beside the gun. After the
hoisting of the flag, the animals were required to file past the skull in a
reverent manner before entering the barn. Nowadays they did not sit all
together as they had done in the past. Napoleon, with Squealer and
another pig named Minimus, who had a remarkable gift for composing
songs and poems, sat on the front of the raised platform, with the nine
young dogs forming a semicircle round them, and the other pigs sitting
behind. The rest of the animals sat facing them in the main body of the
barn. Napoleon read out the orders for the week in a gruff soldierly
style, and after a single singing of Beasts of England, all the animals
dispersed.
On the third Sunday after Snowball's expulsion, the animals were
somewhat surprised to hear Napoleon announce that the windmill was
to be built after all. He did not give any reason for having changed his
mind, but merely warned the animals that this extra task would mean
very hard work, it might even be necessary to reduce their rations. The
plans, however, had all been prepared, down to the last detail. A special
committee of pigs had been at work upon them for the past three weeks.
The building of the windmill, with various other improvements, was
expected to take two years.
That evening Squealer explained privately to the other animals that
Napoleon had never in reality been opposed to the windmill. On the
contrary, it was he who had advocated it in the beginning, and the plan
which Snowball had drawn on the floor of the incubator shed had
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Animal Farm by George Orwell
actually been stolen from among Napoleon's papers. The windmill was,
in fact, Napoleon's own creation. Why, then, asked somebody, had he
spoken so strongly against it? Here Squealer looked very sly. That, he
said, was Comrade Napoleon's cunning. He had seemed to oppose the
windmill, simply as a manoeuvre to get rid of Snowball, who was a
dangerous character and a bad influence. Now that Snowball was out of
the way, the plan could go forward without his interference. This, said
Squealer, was something called tactics. He repeated a number of times,
"Tactics, comrades, tactics!
