Chapter I
Mr. Jones, of the Manor Farm, had locked the hen-houses
for the night, but was too drunk to remember to shut the
pop-holes. With the ring of light from his lantern dancing
from side to side, he lurched across the yard, kicked off
his boots at the back door, drew himself a last glass of
beer from the barrel in the scullery, and made his way
up to bed, where Mrs. Jones was already snoring.
As soon as the light in the bedroom went out there was
a stirring and a fluttering all through the farm buildings.
Word had gone round during the day that old Major, the
prize Middle White boar, had had a strange dream on the
previous night and wished to communicate it to the other
animals. It had been agreed that they should all meet
in the big barn as soon as Mr. Jones was safely out of
the way. Old Major (so he was always called, though the
name under which he had been exhibited was Willingdon
Beauty) was so highly regarded on the farm that everyone
was quite ready to lose an hour’s sleep in order to hear
what he had to say.
At one end of the big barn, on a sort of raised plat-
form, Major was already ensconced on his bed of straw,
under a lantern which hung from a beam. He was twelve
years old and had lately grown rather stout, but he was
still a majestic-looking pig, with a wise and benevolent
appearance in spite of the fact that his tushes had never
been cut. Before long the other animals began to arrive
and make themselves comfortable after their different
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Chapter I
fashions. First came the three dogs, Bluebell, Jessie, and
Pincher, and then the pigs, who settled down in the straw
immediately in front of the platform. The hens perched
themselves on the window-sills, the pigeons fluttered up
to the rafters, the sheep and cows lay down behind the
pigs and began to chew the cud. The two cart-horses,
Boxer and Clover, came in together, walking very slowly
and setting down their vast hairy hoofs with great care
lest there should be some small animal concealed in the
straw. Clover was a stout motherly mare approaching
middle life, who had never quite got her figure back after
her fourth foal. Boxer was an enormous beast, nearly
eighteen hands high, and as strong as any two ordinary
horses put together. A white stripe down his nose gave
him a somewhat stupid appearance, and in fact he was
not of first-rate intelligence, but he was universally re-
spected for his steadiness of character and tremendous
powers of work. After the horses came Muriel, the white
goat, and Benjamin, the donkey. Benjamin was the oldest
animal on the farm, and the worst tempered. He seldom
talked, and when he did, it was usually to make some
cynical remark—for instance, he would say that God had
given him a tail to keep the flies off, but that he would
sooner have had no tail and no flies. Alone among the
animals on the farm he never laughed. If asked why, he
would say that he saw nothing to laugh at. Nevertheless,
without openly admitting it, he was devoted to Boxer; the
two of them usually spent their Sundays together in the
small paddock beyond the orchard, grazing side by side
and never speaking.
The two horses had just lain down when a brood of
ducklings, which had lost their mother, filed into the barn,
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Chapter I
cheeping feebly and wandering from side to side to find
some place where they would not be trodden on. Clover
made a sort of wall round them with her great foreleg,
and the ducklings nestled down inside it and promptly
fell asleep. At the last moment Mollie, the foolish, pretty
white mare who drew Mr. Jones’s trap, came mincing
daintily in, chewing at a lump of sugar. She took a place
near the front and began flirting her white mane, hoping
to draw attention to the red ribbons it was plaited with.
Last of all came the cat, who looked round, as usual,
for the warmest place, and finally squeezed herself in
between Boxer and Clover; there she purred contentedly
throughout Major’s speech without listening to a word of
what he was saying.
All the animals were now present except Moses, the
tame raven, who slept on a perch behind the back door.
When Major saw that they had all made themselves com-
fortable and were waiting attentively, he cleared his throat
and began:
“Comrades, you have heard already about the strange
dream that I had last night. But I will come to the dream
later. I have something else to say first. I do not think,
comrades, that I shall be with you for many months
longer, and before I die, I feel it my duty to pass on to you
such wisdom as I have acquired. I have had a long life,
I have had much time for thought as I lay alone in my
stall, and I think I may say that I understand the nature
of life on this earth as well as any animal now living. It is
about this that I wish to speak to you.
“Now, comrades, what is the nature of this life of ours?
Let us face it: our lives are miserable, laborious, and
short. We are born, we are given just so much food as
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Chapter I
will keep the breath in our bodies, and those of us who
are capable of it are forced to work to the last atom of our
strength; and the very instant that our usefulness has
come to an end we are slaughtered with hideous cruelty.
No animal in England knows the meaning of happiness
or leisure after he is a year old. No animal in England is
free. The life of an animal is misery and slavery: that is
the plain truth.
“But is this simply part of the order of nature? Is it
because this land of ours is so poor that it cannot afford
a decent life to those who dwell upon it? No, comrades, a
thousand times no! The soil of England is fertile, its cli-
mate is good, it is capable of affording food in abundance
to an enormously greater number of animals than now
inhabit it. This single farm of ours would support a dozen
horses, twenty cows, hundreds of sheep—and all of them
living in a comfort and a dignity that are now almost
beyond our imagining. Why then do we continue in this
miserable condition? Because nearly the whole of the
produce of our labour is stolen from us by human beings.
There, comrades, is the answer to all our problems. It is
summed up in a single word—Man. Man is the only real
enemy we have. Remove Man from the scene, and the
root cause of hunger and overwork is abolished for ever.
“Man is the only creature that consumes without pro-
ducing. He does not give milk, he does not lay eggs, he is
too weak to pull the plough, he cannot run fast enough
to catch rabbits. Yet he is lord of all the animals. He
sets them to work, he gives back to them the bare mini-
mum that will prevent them from starving, and the rest
he keeps for himself. Our labour tills the soil, our dung
fertilises it, and yet there is not one of us that owns more
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Chapter I
than his bare skin. You cows that I see before me, how
many thousands of gallons of milk have you given during
this last year? And what has happened to that milk which
should have been breeding up sturdy calves? Every drop
of it has gone down the throats of our enemies. And
you hens, how many eggs have you laid in this last year,
and how many of those eggs ever hatched into chickens?
The rest have all gone to market to bring in money for
Jones and his men. And you, Clover, where are those
four foals you bore, who should have been the support
and pleasure of your old age? Each was sold at a year
old—you will never see one of them again. In return for
your four confinements and all your labour in the fields,
what have you ever had except your bare rations and a
stall?
“And even the miserable lives we lead are not allowed
to reach their natural span. For myself I do not grumble,
for I am one of the lucky ones. I am twelve years old and
have had over four hundred children. Such is the natural
life of a pig. But no animal escapes the cruel knife in the
end. You young porkers who are sitting in front of me,
every one of you will scream your lives out at the block
within a year. To that horror we all must come—cows,
pigs, hens, sheep, everyone. Even the horses and the
dogs have no better fate. You, Boxer, the very day that
those great muscles of yours lose their power, Jones will
sell you to the knacker, who will cut your throat and boil
you down for the foxhounds. As for the dogs, when they
grow old and toothless, Jones ties a brick round their
necks and drowns them in the nearest pond.
“Is it not crystal clear, then, comrades, that all the
evils of this life of ours spring from the tyranny of human
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Chapter I
beings? Only get rid of Man, and the produce of our
labour would be our own. Almost overnight we could
become rich and free. What then must we do? Why,
work night and day, body and soul, for the overthrow of
the human race! That is my message to you, comrades:
Rebellion! I do not know when that Rebellion will come, it
might be in a week or in a hundred years, but I know, as
surely as I see this straw beneath my feet, that sooner or
later justice will be done. Fix your eyes on that, comrades,
throughout the short remainder of your lives! And above
all, pass on this message of mine to those who come after
you, so that future generations shall carry on the struggle
until it is victorious.
“And remember, comrades, your resolution must never
falter. No argument must lead you astray. Never listen
when they tell you that Man and the animals have a
common interest, that the prosperity of the one is the
prosperity of the others. It is all lies. Man serves the
interests of no creature except himself. And among us
animals let there be perfect unity, perfect comradeship
in the struggle. All men are enemies. All animals are
comrades.”
At this moment there was a tremendous uproar. While
Major was speaking four large rats had crept out of their
holes and were sitting on their hindquarters, listening to
him. The dogs had suddenly caught sight of them, and
it was only by a swift dash for their holes that the rats
saved their lives. Major raised his trotter for silence.
“Comrades,” he said, “here is a point that must be
settled. The wild creatures, such as rats and rabbits—are
they our friends or our enemies? Let us put it to the
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Chapter I
vote. I propose this question to the meeting: Are rats
comrades?”
The vote was taken at once, and it was agreed by an
overwhelming majority that rats were comrades. There
were only four dissentients, the three dogs and the cat,
who was afterwards discovered to have 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 ways.
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 have conquered 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 over his own kind. 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 has
vanished. But it reminded me of something that I had
long forgotten. Many years ago, when I was a little pig,
my mother and the other sows used to sing an old song of
which they knew only the tune and the first three words.
I had known that tune in my infancy, but it had long
since passed out of my mind. Last night, however, it
came back to me in my dream. And what is more, the
words of the song also came back—words, I am certain,
which were sung by the animals of long ago and have
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Chapter I
been lost to memory for generations. I will sing you that
song now, comrades. I am old and my voice is hoarse,
but when I have taught you the tune, you can sing it
better for yourselves. It is called Beasts of England.”
Old Major cleared his throat and began to sing. As he
had said, his voice was hoarse, but he sang well enough,
and it was a stirring tune, something between Clementine
and La Cucaracha. The words ran:
Beasts of England, beasts of Ireland,
Beasts of every land and clime,
Hearken to my joyful tidings
Of the golden future time.
Soon or late the day is coming,
Tyrant Man shall be o’erthrown,
And the fruitful fields of England
Shall be trod by beasts alone.
Rings shall vanish from our noses,
And the harness from our back,
Bit and spur shall rust forever,
Cruel whips no more shall crack.
Riches more than mind can picture,
Wheat and barley, oats and hay,
Clover, beans, and mangel-wurzels
Shall be ours upon that day.
Bright will shine the fields of England,
Purer shall its waters be,
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Chapter I
Sweeter yet shall 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 had reached
the end, they had begun singing it for themselves. Even
the stupidest of them had already picked up the tune
and a few of the words, and as for the clever ones, such
as the pigs and dogs, they had the entire song by heart
within a few minutes. And then, after a few preliminary
tries, the whole farm burst out into Beasts of England in
tremendous unison. The cows lowed it, the dogs whined
it, the sheep bleated it, the horses whinnied it, the ducks
quacked it. They were so delighted with the song that
they sang it right through five times in succession, and
might have continued singing it all night if they had not
been interrupted.
Unfortunately, the uproar awoke Mr. Jones, who
sprang out of bed, sure that there was a fox in the yard.
He seized the gun which always stood in a corner of his
bedroom, and let fly a charge of number 6 shot into the
darkness. The pellets buried themselves in the wall of
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Chapter I
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.
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