No More Learning

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
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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! " skipping round and whisking his tail with
a merry laugh. The animals were not certain what the word meant, but
Squealer spoke so persuasively, and the three dogs who happened to be
with him growled so threateningly, that they accepted his explanation
without further questions.


VI

ALL that year the animals worked like slaves. But they were happy in
their work; they grudged no effort or sacrifice, well aware that
everything that they did was for the benefit of themselves and those of
their kind who would come after them, and not for a pack of idle,
thieving human beings.

Throughout the spring and summer they worked a sixty-hour week, and
in August Napoleon announced that there would be work on Sunday
afternoons as well. This work was strictly voluntary, but any animal
who absented himself from it would have his rations reduced by half.
Even so, it was found necessary to leave certain tasks undone. The
harvest was a little less successful than in the previous year, and two
fields which should have been sown with roots in the early summer
were not sown because the ploughing had not been completed early
enough. It was possible to foresee that the coming winter would be a
hard one.

The windmill presented unexpected difficulties. There was a good
quarry of limestone on the farm, and plenty of sand and cement had
been found in one of the outhouses, so that all the materials for building
were at hand. But the problem the animals could not at first solve was
how to break up the stone into pieces of suitable size. There seemed no
way of doing this except with picks and crowbars, which no animal


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could use, because no animal could stand on his hind legs. Only after
weeks of vain effort did the right idea occur to somebody-namely, to
utilise the force of gravity. Huge boulders, far too big to be used as they
were, were lying all over the bed of the quarry. The animals lashed
ropes round these, and then all together, cows, horses, sheep, any
animal that could lay hold of the rope-even the pigs sometimes joined
in at critical moments-they dragged them with desperate slowness up
the slope to the top of the quarry, where they were toppled over the
edge, to shatter to pieces below. Transporting the stone when it was
once broken was comparatively simple. The horses carried it off in
cart-loads, the sheep dragged single blocks, even Muriel and Benjamin
yoked themselves into an old governess-cart and did their share. By late
summer a sufficient store of stone had accumulated, and then the
building began, under the superintendence of the pigs.

But it was a slow, laborious process. Frequently it took a whole day of
exhausting effort to drag a single boulder to the top of the quarry, and
sometimes when it was pushed over the edge it failed to break. Nothing
could have been achieved without Boxer, whose strength seemed equal
to that of all the rest of the animals put together. When the boulder
began to slip and the animals cried out in despair at finding themselves
dragged down the hill, it was always Boxer who strained himself
against the rope and brought the boulder to a stop. To see him toiling
up the slope inch by inch, his breath coming fast, the tips of his hoofs
clawing at the ground, and his great sides matted with sweat, filled
everyone with admiration. Clover warned him sometimes to be careful
not to overstrain himself, but Boxer would never listen to her. His two
slogans, "I will work harder" and "Napoleon is always right," seemed to
him a sufficient answer to all problems. He had made arrangements
with the cockerel to call him three-quarters of an hour earlier in the
mornings instead of half an hour. And in his spare moments, of which
there were not many nowadays, he would go alone to the quarry, collect
a load of broken stone, and drag it down to the site of the windmill
unassisted.

The animals were not badly off throughout that summer, in spite of the
hardness of their work. If they had no more food than they had had in
Jones's day, at least they did not have less. The advantage of only
having to feed themselves, and not having to support five extravagant
human beings as well, was so great that it would have taken a lot of
failures to outweigh it. And in many ways the animal method of doing


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things was more efficient and saved labour. Such jobs as weeding, for
instance, could be done with a thoroughness impossible to human
beings. And again, since no animal now stole, it was unnecessary to
fence off pasture from arable land, which saved a lot of labour on the
upkeep of hedges and gates. Nevertheless, as the summer wore on,
various unforeseen shortages began to make them selves felt. There was
need of paraffin oil, nails, string, dog biscuits, and iron for the horses'
shoes, none of which could be produced on the farm. Later there would
also be need for seeds and artificial manures, besides various tools and,
finally, the machinery for the windmill. How these were to be procured,
no one was able to imagine.

One Sunday morning, when the animals assembled to receive their
orders, Napoleon announced that he had decided upon a new policy.
From now onwards Animal Farm would engage in trade with the
neighbouring farms: not, of course, for any commercial purpose, but
simply in order to obtain certain materials which were urgently
necessary. The needs of the windmill must override everything else, he
said. He was therefore making arrangements to sell a stack of hay and
part of the current year's wheat crop, and later on, if more money were
needed, it would have to be made up by the sale of eggs, for which
there was always a market in Willingdon. The hens, said Napoleon,
should welcome this sacrifice as their own special contribution towards
the building of the windmill.

Once again the animals were conscious of a vague uneasiness. Never to
have any dealings with human beings, never to engage in trade, never
to make use of money-had not these been among the earliest resolutions
passed at that first triumphant Meeting after Jones was expelled? All
the animals remembered passing such resolutions: or at least they
thought that they remembered it. The four young pigs who had
protested when Napoleon abolished the Meetings raised their voices
timidly, but they were promptly silenced by a tremendous growling
from the dogs. Then, as usual, the sheep broke into "Four legs good,
two legs bad! " and the momentary awkwardness was smoothed over.
Finally Napoleon raised his trotter for silence and announced that he
had already made all the arrangements. There would be no need for any
of the animals to come in contact with human beings, which would
clearly be most undesirable. He intended to take the whole burden upon
his own shoulders. A Mr. Whymper, a solicitor living in Willingdon,
had agreed to act as intermediary between Animal Farm and the outside


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world, and would visit the farm every Monday morning to receive his
instructions. Napoleon ended his speech with his usual cry of "Long
live Animal Farm! " and after the singing of Beasts of England the
animals were dismissed.

Afterwards Squealer made a round of the farm and set the animals'
minds at rest. He assured them that the resolution against engaging in
trade and using money had never been passed, or even suggested. It
was pure imagination, probably traceable in the beginning to lies
circulated by Snowball. A few animals still felt faintly doubtful, but
Squealer asked them shrewdly, "Are you certain that this is not
something that you have dreamed, comrades? Have you any record of
such a resolution? Is it written down anywhere? " And since it was
certainly true that nothing of the kind existed in writing, the animals
were satisfied that they had been mistaken.

Every Monday Mr. Whymper visited the farm as had been arranged. He
was a sly-looking little man with side whiskers, a solicitor in a very
small way of business, but sharp enough to have realised earlier than
anyone else that Animal Farm would need a broker and that the
commissions would be worth having. The animals watched his coming
and going with a kind of dread, and avoided him as much as possible.
Nevertheless, the sight of Napoleon, on all fours, delivering orders to
Whymper, who stood on two legs, roused their pride and partly
reconciled them to the new arrangement. Their relations with the
human race were now not quite the same as they had been before. The
human beings did not hate Animal Farm any less now that it was
prospering; indeed, they hated it more than ever. Every human being
held it as an article of faith that the farm would go bankrupt sooner or
later, and, above all, that the windmill would be a failure. They would
meet in the public-houses and prove to one another by means of
diagrams that the windmill was bound to fall down, or that if it did
stand up, then that it would never work. And yet, against their will, they
had developed a certain respect for the efficiency with which the
animals were managing their own affairs. One symptom of this was that
they had begun to call Animal Farm by its proper name and ceased to
pretend that it was called the Manor Farm. They had also dropped their
championship of Jones, who had given up hope of getting his farm back
and gone to live in another part of the county. Except through
Whymper, there was as yet no contact between Animal Farm and the
outside world, but there were constant rumours that Napoleon was


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about to enter into a definite business agreement either with Mr.
Pilkington of Foxwood or with Mr. Frederick of Pinchfield-but never, it
was noticed, with both simultaneously.

It was about this time that the pigs suddenly moved into the farmhouse
and took up their residence there. Again the animals seemed to
remember that a resolution against this had been passed in the early
days, and again Squealer was able to convince them that this was not
the case. It was absolutely necessary, he said, that the pigs, who were
the brains of the farm, should have a quiet place to work in. It was also
more suited to the dignity of the Leader (for of late he had taken to
speaking of Napoleon under the title of "Leader") to live in a house
than in a mere sty. Nevertheless, some of the animals were disturbed
when they heard that the pigs not only took their meals in the kitchen
and used the drawing-room as a recreation room, but also slept in the
beds. Boxer passed it off as usual with "Napoleon is always right! ", but
Clover, who thought she remembered a definite ruling against beds,
went to the end of the bam and tried to puzzle out the Seven
Commandments which were inscribed there. Finding herself unable to
read more than individual letters, she fetched Muriel.

"Muriel," she said, "read me the Fourth Commandment. Does it not say
something about never sleeping in a bed?
"

With some difficulty Muriel spelt it out.

"It says, 'No animal shall sleep in a bed with sheets,"’ she announced
finally.

Curiously enough, Clover had not remembered that the Fourth
Commandment mentioned sheets; but as it was there on the wall, it
must have done so. And Squealer, who happened to be passing at this
moment, attended by two or three dogs, was able to put the whole
matter in its proper perspective.

"You have heard then, comrades," he said, "that we pigs now sleep in
the beds of the farmhouse? And why not? You did not suppose, surely,
that there was ever a ruling against beds? A bed merely means a place
to sleep in. A pile of straw in a stall is a bed, properly regarded. The
rule was against sheets, which are a human invention. We have
removed the sheets from the farmhouse beds, and sleep between
blankets. And very comfortable beds they are too! But not more
comfortable than we need, I can tell you, comrades, with all the


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brainwork we have to do nowadays. You would not rob us of our
repose, would you, comrades? You would not have us too tired to carry
out our duties? Surely none of you wishes to see Jones back? "

The animals reassured him on this point immediately, and no more was
said about the pigs sleeping in the farmhouse beds. And when, some
days afterwards, it was announced that from now on the pigs would get
up an hour later in the mornings than the other animals, no complaint
was made about that either.

By the autumn the animals were tired but happy. They had had a hard
year, and after the sale of part of the hay and corn, the stores of food for
the winter were none too plentiful, but the windmill compensated for
everything. It was almost half built now. After the harvest there was a
stretch of clear dry weather, and the animals toiled harder than ever,
thinking it well worth while to plod to and fro all day with blocks of
stone if by doing so they could raise the walls another foot. Boxer
would even come out at nights and work for an hour or two on his own
by the light of the harvest moon. In their spare moments the animals
would walk round and round the half-finished mill, admiring the
strength and perpendicularity of its walls and marvelling that they
should ever have been able to build anything so imposing. Only old
Benjamin refused to grow enthusiastic about the windmill, though, as
usual, he would utter nothing beyond the cryptic remark that donkeys
live a long time.

November came, with raging south-west winds. Building had to stop
because it was now too wet to mix the cement. Finally there came a
night when the gale was so violent that the farm buildings rocked on
their foundations and several tiles were blown off the roof of the barn.
The hens woke up squawking with terror because they had all dreamed
simultaneously of hearing a gun go off in the distance. In the morning
the animals came out of their stalls to find that the flagstaff had been
blown down and an elm tree at the foot of the orchard had been plucked
up like a radish. They had just noticed this when a cry of despair broke
from every animal's throat. A terrible sight had met their eyes. The
windmill was in ruins.

With one accord they dashed down to the spot. Napoleon, who seldom
moved out of a walk, raced ahead of them all. Yes, there it lay, the fruit
of all their struggles, levelled to its foundations, the stones they had
broken and carried so laboriously scattered all around. Unable at first to


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speak, they stood gazing mournfully at the litter of fallen stone
Napoleon paced to and fro in silence, occasionally snuffing at the
ground. His tail had grown rigid and twitched sharply from side to side,
a sign in him of intense mental activity. Suddenly he halted as though
his mind were made up.

"Comrades," he said quietly, "do you know who is responsible for this?
Do you know the enemy who has come in the night and overthrown our
windmill? SNOWBALL! " he suddenly roared in a voice of thunder.
"Snowball has done this thing! In sheer malignity, thinking to set back
our plans and avenge himself for his ignominious expulsion, this traitor
has crept here under cover of night and destroyed our work of nearly a
year. Comrades, here and now I pronounce the death sentence upon
Snowball. 'Animal Hero, Second Class,' and half a bushel of apples to
any animal who brings him to justice. A full bushel to anyone who
captures him alive! "

The animals were shocked beyond measure to learn that even Snowball
could be guilty of such an action. There was a cry of indignation, and
everyone began thinking out ways of catching Snowball if he should
ever come back. Almost immediately the footprints of a pig were
discovered in the grass at a little distance from the knoll. They could
only be traced for a few yards, but appeared to lead to a hole in the
hedge. Napoleon snuffed deeply at them and pronounced them to be
Snowball's. He gave it as his opinion that Snowball had probably come
from the direction of Foxwood Farm.

"No more delays, comrades! " cried Napoleon when the footprints had
been examined. "There is work to be done. This very morning we begin
rebuilding the windmill, and we will build all through the winter, rain
or shine. We will teach this miserable traitor that he cannot undo our
work so easily. Remember, comrades, there must be no alteration in our
plans: they shall be carried out to the day. Forward, comrades! Long
live the windmill! Long live Animal Farm! "


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VII


IT WAS a bitter winter. The stormy weather was followed by sleet and
snow, and then by a hard frost which did not break till well into
February. The animals carried on as best they could with the rebuilding
of the windmill, well knowing that the outside world was watching
them and that the envious human beings would rejoice and triumph if
the mill were not finished on time.

Out of spite, the human beings pretended not to believe that it was
Snowball who had destroyer the windmill: they said that it had fallen
down because the walls were too thin. The animals knew that this was
not the case. Still, it had been decided to build the walls three feet thick
this time instead of eighteen inches as before, which meant collecting
much larger quantities of stone. For a long i. ne the quarry was full of
snowdrifts and nothing could be done. Some progress was made in the
dry frosty weather that followed, but it was cruel work, and the animals
could not feel so hopeful about it as they had felt before. They were
always cold, and usually hungry as well. Only Boxer and Clover never
lost heart. Squealer made excellent speeches on the joy of service and
the dignity of labour, but the other animals found more inspiration in
Boxer's strength and his never-failing cry of "I will work harder! "

In January food fell short. The corn ration was drastically reduced, and
it was announced that an extra potato ration would be issued to make up
for it. Then it was discovered that the greater part of the potato crop had
been frosted in the clamps, which had not been covered thickly enough.
The potatoes had become soft and discoloured, and only a few were
edible. For days at a time the animals had nothing to eat but chaff and
mangels. Starvation seemed to stare them in the face.

It was vitally necessary to conceal this fact from the outside world.
Emboldened by the collapse of the windmill, the human beings were
inventing fresh lies about Animal Farm. Once again it was being put
about that all the animals were dying of famine and disease, and that
they were continually fighting among themselves and had resorted to
cannibalism and infanticide. Napoleon was well aware of the bad
results that might follow if the real facts of the food situation were
known, and he decided to make use of Mr. Whymper to spread a
contrary impression. Hitherto the animals had had little or no contact
with Whymper on his weekly visits: now, however, a few selected
animals, mostly sheep, were instructed to remark casually in his hearing


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that rations had been increased. In addition, Napoleon ordered the
almost empty bins in the store-shed to be filled nearly to the brim with
sand, which was then covered up with what remained of the grain and
meal. On some suitable pretext Whymper was led through the
store-shed and allowed to catch a glimpse of the bins. He was deceived,
and continued to report to the outside world that there was no food
shortage on Animal Farm.

Nevertheless, towards the end of January it became obvious that it
would be necessary to procure some more grain from somewhere. In
these days Napoleon rarely appeared in public, but spent all his time in
the farmhouse, which was guarded at each door by fierce-looking dogs.
When he did emerge, it was in a ceremonial manner, with an escort of
six dogs who closely surrounded him and growled if anyone came too
near. Frequently he did not even appear on Sunday mornings, but
issued his orders through one of the other pigs, usually Squealer.

One Sunday morning Squealer announced that the hens, who had just
come in to lay again, must surrender their eggs. Napoleon had accepted,
through Whymper, a contract for four hundred eggs a week. The price
of these would pay for enough grain and meal to keep the farm going
till summer came on and conditions were easier.

When the hens heard this, they raised a terrible outcry. They had been
warned earlier that this sacrifice might be necessary, but had not
believed that it would really happen. They were just getting their
clutches ready for the spring sitting, and they protested that to take the
eggs away now was murder. For the first time since the expulsion of
Jones, there was something resembling a rebellion. Led by three young
Black Minorca pullets, the hens made a determined effort to thwart
Napoleon's wishes. Their method was to fly up to the rafters and there
lay their eggs, which smashed to pieces on the floor. Napoleon acted
swiftly and ruthlessly. He ordered the hens’ rations to be stopped, and
decreed that any animal giving so much as a grain of corn to a hen
should be punished by death. The dogs saw to it that these orders were
carried out. For five days the hens held out, then they capitulated and
went back to their nesting boxes. Nine hens had died in the meantime.
Their bodies were buried in the orchard, and it was given out that they
had died of coccidiosis. Whymper heard nothing of this affair, and the
eggs were duly delivered, a grocer's van driving up to the farm once a
week to take them away.


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Animal Farm by George Orwell


All this while no more had been seen of Snowball. He was rumoured to
be hiding on one of the neighbouring farms, either Foxwood or
Pinchfield. Napoleon was by this time on slightly better terms with the
other farmers than before. It happened that there was in the yard a pile
of timber which had been stacked there ten years earlier when a beech
spinney was cleared. It was well seasoned, and Whymper had advised
Napoleon to sell it; both Mr. Pilkington and Mr. Frederick were
anxious to buy it. Napoleon was hesitating between the two, unable to
make up his mind. It was noticed that whenever he seemed on the point
of coming to an agreement with Frederick, Snowball was declared to be
in hiding at Foxwood, while, when he inclined toward Pilkington,
Snowball was said to be at Pinchfield.

Suddenly, early in the spring, an alarming thing was discovered.
Snowball was secretly frequenting the farm by night! The animals were
so disturbed that they could hardly sleep in their stalls. Every night, it
was said, he came creeping in under cover of darkness and performed
all kinds of mischief. He stole the corn, he upset the milk-pails, he
broke the eggs, he trampled the seedbeds, he gnawed the bark off the
fruit trees. Whenever anything went wrong it became usual to attribute
it to Snowball. If a window was broken or a drain was blocked up,
someone was certain to say that Snowball had come in the night and
done it, and when the key of the store- shed was lost, the whole farm
was convinced that Snowball had thrown it down the well. Curiously
enough, they went on believing this even after the mislaid key was
found under a sack of meal. The cows declared unanimously that
Snowball crept into their stalls and milked them in their sleep. The rats,
which had been troublesome that winter, were also said to be in league
with Snowball.

Napoleon decreed that there should be a full investigation into
Snowball's activities. With his dogs in attendance he set out and made a
careful tour of inspection of the farm buildings, the other animals
following at a respectful distance. At every few steps Napoleon stopped
and snuffed the ground for traces of Snowball's footsteps, which, he
said, he could detect by the smell. He snuffed in every corner, in the
barn, in the cow-shed, in the henhouses, in the vegetable garden, and
found traces of Snowball almost everywhere. He would put his snout to
the ground, give several deep sniffs, ad exclaim in a terrible voice,
"Snowball! He has been here! I can smell him distinctly! " and at the
word "Snowball" all the dogs let out blood-curdling growls and showed


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Animal Farm by George Orwell


their side teeth.

The animals were thoroughly frightened. It seemed to them as though
Snowball were some kind of invisible influence, pervading the air about
them and menacing them with all kinds of dangers. In the evening
Squealer called them together, and with an alarmed expression on his
face told them that he had some serious news to report.

"Comrades! " cried Squealer, making little nervous skips, "a most
terrible thing has been discovered. Snowball has sold himself to
Frederick of Pinchfield Farm, who is even now plotting to attack us and
take our farm away from us ! Snowball is to act as his guide when the
attack begins. But there is worse than that. We had thought that
Snowball's rebellion was caused simply by his vanity and ambition. But
we were wrong, comrades. Do you know what the real reason was?
Snowball was in league with Jones from the very start! He was Jones's
secret agent all the time. It has all been proved by documents which he
left behind him and which we have only just discovered. To my mind
this explains a great deal, comrades. Did we not see for ourselves how
he attempted-fortunately without success-to get us defeated and
destroyed at the Battle of the Cowshed? "

The animals were stupefied. This was a wickedness far outdoing
Snowball's destruction of the windmill. But it was some minutes before
they could fully take it in. They all remembered, or thought they
remembered, how they had seen Snowball charging ahead of them at
the Battle of the Cowshed, how he had rallied and encouraged them at
every turn, and how he had not paused for an instant even when the
pellets from Jones's gun had wounded his back. At first it was a little
difficult to see how this fitted in with his being on Jones's side. Even
Boxer, who seldom asked questions, was puzzled. He lay down, tucked
his fore hoofs beneath him, shut his eyes, and with a hard effort
managed to formulate his thoughts.

"I do not believe that," he said. "Snowball fought bravely at the Battle
of the Cowshed. I saw him myself. Did we not give him 'Animal Hero,
first Class,' immediately afterwards? "

"That was our mistake, comrade. For we know now-it is all written
down in the secret documents that we have found-that in reality he was
trying to lure us to our doom. "

"But he was wounded," said Boxer. "We all saw him running with


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Animal Farm by George Orwell


blood. ”

"That was part of the arrangement! ” cried Squealer. "Jones's shot only
grazed him. I could show you this in his own writing, if you were able
to read it. The plot was for Snowball, at the critical moment, to give the
signal for flight and leave the field to the enemy. And he very nearly
succeeded-I will even say, comrades, he would have succeeded if it had
not been for our heroic Leader, Comrade Napoleon. Do you not
remember how, just at the moment when Jones and his men had got
inside the yard, Snowball suddenly turned and fled, and many animals
followed him? And do you not remember, too, that it was just at that
moment, when panic was spreading and all seemed lost, that Comrade
Napoleon sprang forward with a cry of 'Death to Humanity! ’ and sank
his teeth in Jones's leg? Surely you remember that, comrades? "
exclaimed Squealer, frisking from side to side.

Now when Squealer described the scene so graphically, it seemed to the
animals that they did remember it.