creatures, such as rats and rabbits – are they our friends or our enemies? Let us put it to the vote. I propose this question to the meeting: Are rats comrades?»
They voted. It was agreed by an overwhelming majority that rats were comrades. There were only four dissentients, the three dogs and the cat. Afterwards it was discovered that the cat voted on both sides.
Major continued:
«I have little more to say. I merely repeat, remember always your duty of enmity towards Man and all his decisions. Whatever goes upon two legs is an enemy. Whatever goes upon four legs, or has wings, is a friend. And remember also that in fighting against Man, we must not come to resemble him. Even when you conquer him, do not adopt his vices. No animal must ever live in a house, or sleep in a bed, or wear clothes, or drink alcohol, or smoke tobacco, or touch money, or engage in trade. All the habits of Man are evil. And, above all, no animal must ever tyrannise animals. Weak or strong, clever or simple, we are all brothers. No animal must ever kill any other animal. All animals are equal.
And now, comrades, I will tell you about my dream of last night. I cannot describe that dream to you. It was a dream of the earth as it will be when Man vanishes. But it reminded me of something. Many years ago, when I was a little pig, my mother and the other sows sang an old song. Last night, it came back to me in my dream. And what is more, the words of the song also came back. The animals of long ago sang these words, I am certain. I will sing you that song now, comrades. I am old and my voice is hoarse. But when I teach you the tune, you can sing it better for yourselves. It is called ‘Beasts of England’.»
Old Major cleared his throat and began to sing. He sang well enough, and it was a wonderful tune, something between ‘Clementine’ and ‘La Cucaracha’. The words ran:
ppp
Beasts of England, beasts of Ireland,
Beasts of every land and clime,
Hearken to my joyful tidings
Of the golden future time.
Soon or late the day is coming,
Tyrant Man will be overthrown,
And the fruitful fields of England
Will be trod by beasts alone.
Rings will vanish from our noses,
And the harness from our back,
Bit and spur will rust forever,
Cruel whips no more will crack.
Riches more than mind can picture,
Wheat and barley, oats and hay,
Clover, beans, and mangel-wurzels[6]
Will be ours upon that day.
Bright will shine the fields of England,
Purer will its waters be,
Sweeter yet will blow its breezes
On the day that sets us free.
For that day we all must labour,
Though we die before it break;
Cows and horses, geese and turkeys,
All must toil for freedom’s sake.
Beasts of England, beasts of Ireland,
Beasts of every land and clime,
Hearken well and spread my tidings
Of the golden future time!
The singing of this song threw the animals into the wildest excitement. Almost before Major reached the end, they began to sing it for themselves. Even the stupidest of them picked up the tune and few words, and as for the clever ones, such as the pigs and dogs, they had the entire song by heart within a few minutes. And then, after a few preliminary tries, the whole farm burst out into ‘Beasts of England’ in tremendous unison. The cows lowed it, the dogs whined it, the sheep bleated it, the horses whinnied it, the ducks quacked it. They were so delighted with the song that they sang it five times in succession.
Unfortunately, the uproar awoke Mr. Jones, who sprang out of bed. He was sure that there was a fox in the yard. He seized the gun which always stood in a corner of his bedroom, and shot six times into the darkness. The pellets buried themselves in the wall of the barn and the meeting broke up hurriedly. Everyone fled to his own sleeping-place. The birds jumped on to their perches, the animals settled down in the straw, and the whole farm was asleep in a moment.
Chapter II
Three nights later old Major died peacefully in his sleep. His body was buried at the foot of the orchard.
This was early in March. During the next three months there was much secret activity. Major’s speech gave to the more intelligent animals on the farm a completely new outlook on life. They did not know when the Rebellion predicted by Major would take place. They had no reason to think that it would be within their own lifetime. But they saw clearly that it was their duty to prepare for it. The work of teaching and organizing the others fell naturally upon the pigs, who were the cleverest of the animals. Pre-eminent among the pigs were two young boars named Snowball and Napoleon. Mr. Jones was breeding them up for sale.
Napoleon was a large, fierce-looking Berkshire boar, the only Berkshire on the farm, not a talker, but with a reputation. Snowball was a more vivacious pig than Napoleon, quicker in speech and more inventive, but did not have the same depth of character. All the other male pigs on the farm were porkers. The best known among them was a small fat pig named Squealer[7], with very round cheeks, twinkling eyes, nimble movements, and a shrill voice. He was a brilliant talker. When he was arguing some difficult point he was skipping from side to side and whisking his tail which was very persuasive. They said that Squealer could turn black into white.
These three elaborated old Major’s teachings into a complete system of thought, to which they gave the name of Animalism. Several nights a week, after Mr. Jones was asleep, they held secret meetings in the barn and expounded the principles of Animalism to the others. At the beginning they met with much stupidity and apathy. Some of the animals talked of the duty of loyalty to Mr. Jones, whom they referred to as «Master». They made elementary remarks such as «Mr. Jones feeds us. If he is gone, we shall starve to death[8]».
Others asked such questions as «Why should we care what happens after we are dead?» or «If this Rebellion happens anyway, what difference does it make whether we work for it or not?» The pigs had great difficulty in making them see that this was contrary to the spirit of Animalism. Mollie, the white mare asked the stupidest questions of all. The very first question she asked Snowball was:
«Will there still be sugar after the Rebellion?»
«No,» said Snowball firmly. «We can’t make sugar on this farm. Besides, you do not need sugar. You will have all the oats and hay you want.»
«And
mangel-wurzels – кормовая свёкла
Squealer – Визгун
we shall starve to death – мы умрём с голоду
