Chapter VI
All that year the animals worked like slaves. But they
were happy in their work; they grudged no effort or sacri-
fice, 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 could use, because no animal
could stand on his hind legs. Only after weeks of vain
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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
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Chapter VI
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 sum-
mer, 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 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 unfore-
seen 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 Ani-
mal Farm would engage in trade with the neighbouring
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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 over-
ride everything else, he said. He was therefore making
arrangements to sell a stack of hay and part of the cur-
rent 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 un-
easiness. 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. Whym-
per, a solicitor living in Willingdon, had agreed to act
as intermediary between Animal Farm and the outside
world, and would visit the farm every Monday morning to
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Chapter VI
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
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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 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
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right!”, but Clover, who thought she remembered a defi-
nite ruling against beds, went to the end of the barn 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 Command-
ment. 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 inven-
tion. 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 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?”
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Chapter VI
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. Build-
ing 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 foun-
dations 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
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Chapter VI
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 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 re-
sponsible 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 expul-
sion, 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.
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Chapter VI
There was a cry of indignation, and everyone began think-
ing 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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