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| {{TextQuality|75%}}{{title | | {{TextQuality|75%}}{{title |
| | title= Animal Farm | | | title = ''Animal Farm'' |
| | author= George Orwell | | | author = George Orwell |
| | notes= 1945. Perhaps the most famous satirical allegory of Soviet totalitarianism, the book reflects events leading up to and during the Stalin era. From Wikipedia article on [[:en.wp:Animal Farm|Animal Farm]]. | | | notes = 1945. Perhaps the most famous satirical allegory of Soviet totalitarianism, the book reflects events leading up to and during the Stalin era. From Wikipedia article on [[:en.wp:Animal Farm|''Animal Farm'']]. |
| }} | | }} |
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| <div class="text"> | | <div class="text"> |
| | *[[Animal Farm/Chapter 1|Chapter 1]] |
| | *[[Animal Farm/Chapter 2|Chapter 2]] |
| | *[[Animal Farm/Chapter 3|Chapter 3]] |
| | *[[Animal Farm/Chapter 4|Chapter 4]] |
| | *[[Animal Farm/Chapter 5|Chapter 5]] |
| | *[[Animal Farm/Chapter 6|Chapter 6]] |
| | *[[Animal Farm/Chapter 7|Chapter 7]] |
| | *[[Animal Farm/Chapter 8|Chapter 8]] |
| | *[[Animal Farm/Chapter 9|Chapter 9]] |
| | *[[Animal Farm/Chapter 10|Chapter 10]] |
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| == Chapter 1 ==
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|
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| Mr. Jones, of the Manor Farm, had locked the hen-houses for the
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| night, but was too drunk to remember to shut the popholes. With the
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| ring of light from his lantern dancing from side to side, he lurched
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| across the yard, kicked off his boots at the back door, drew himself a
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| last glass of beer from the barrel in the scullery, and made his way up to
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| bed, where Mrs. Jones was already snoring.
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|
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| As soon as the light in the bedroom went out there was a stirring and a
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| fluttering all through the farm buildings. Word had gone round during
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| the day that old Major, the prize Middle White boar, had had a strange
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| dream on the previous night and wished to communicate it to the other
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| animals. It had been agreed that they should all meet in the big barn as
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| soon as Mr. Jones was safely out of the way. Old Major (so he was
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| always called, though the name under which he had been exhibited was
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| Willingdon Beauty) was so highly regarded on the farm that everyone
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| was quite ready to lose an hour's sleep in order to hear what he had to
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| say.
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|
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| At one end of the big barn, on a sort of raised platform, Major was
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| already ensconced on his bed of straw, under a lantern which hung from
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| a beam. He was twelve years old and had lately grown rather stout, but
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| he was still a majestic-looking pig, with a wise and benevolent
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| appearance in spite of the fact that his tushes had never been cut.
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| Before long the other animals began to arrive and make themselves
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| comfortable after their different fashions. First came the three dogs,
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| Bluebell, Jessie, and Pincher, and then the pigs, who settled down in the
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| straw immediately in front of the platform. The hens perched
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| themselves on the window-sills, the pigeons fluttered up to the rafters,
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| the sheep and cows lay down behind the pigs and began to chew the
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| cud. The two cart-horses, Boxer and Clover, came in together, walking
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| very slowly and setting down their vast hairy hoofs with great care lest
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| there should be some small animal concealed in the straw.
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| Clover was astout motherly mare approaching middle life,
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| who had never quite got her figure back after her fourth foal.
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| Boxer was an enormous beast,nearly eighteen hands high,
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| and as strong as any two ordinary horses put together.
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|
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| A white stripe down his nose gave him a somewhat stupid
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| appearance, and in fact he was not of first-rate intelligence, but he was
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| universally respected for his steadiness of character and tremendous
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| powers of work. After the horses came Muriel, the white goat, and
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| Benjamin, the donkey. Benjamin was the oldest animal on the farm,
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| and the worst tempered. He seldom talked, and when he did, it was
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| usually to make some cynical remark-for instance, he would say that
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| God had given him a tail to keep the flies off, but that he would sooner
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| have had no tail and no flies. Alone among the animals on the farm he
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| never laughed. If asked why, he would say that he saw nothing to laugh
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| at. Nevertheless, without openly admitting it, he was devoted to Boxer;
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| the two of them usually spent their Sundays together in the small
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| paddock beyond the orchard, grazing side by side and never speaking.
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|
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| The two horses had just lain down when a brood of ducklings, which
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| had lost their mother, filed into the barn, cheeping feebly and
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| wandering from side to side to find some place where they would not
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| be trodden on. Clover made a sort of wall round them with her great
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| foreleg, and the ducklings nestled down inside it and promptly fell
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| asleep. At the last moment Mollie, the foolish, pretty white mare who
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| drew Mr. Jones's trap, came mincing daintily in, chewing at a lump of
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| sugar. She took a place near the front and began flirting her white
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| mane, hoping to draw attention to the red ribbons it was plaited with.
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| Last of all came the cat, who looked round, as usual, for the warmest
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| place, and finally squeezed herself in between Boxer and Clover; there
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| she purred contentedly throughout Major's speech without listening to a
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| word of what he was saying.
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|
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| All the animals were now present except Moses, the tame raven, who
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| slept on a perch behind the back door. When Major saw that they had
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| all made themselves comfortable and were waiting attentively, he
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| cleared his throat and began,
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|
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| "Comrades, you have heard already about the strange dream that I had
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| last night. But I will come to the dream later. I have something else to
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| say first. I do not think, comrades, that I shall be with you for many
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| months longer, and before I die, I feel it my duty to pass on to you such
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| wisdom as I have acquired. I have had a long life, I have had much time
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| for thought as I lay alone in my stall, and I think I may say that I
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| understand the nature of life on this earth as well as any animal now
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| living. It is about this that I wish to speak to you.
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|
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| "Now, comrades, what is the nature of this life of ours? Let us face it,
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| our lives are miserable, laborious, and short. We are born, we are given
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| just so much food as will keep the breath in our bodies, and those of us
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| who are capable of it are forced to work to the last atom of our strength;
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| and the very instant that our usefulness has come to an end we are
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| slaughtered with hideous cruelty. No animal in England knows the
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| meaning of happiness or leisure after he is a year old. No animal in
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| England is free. The life of an animal is misery and slavery: that is the
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| plain truth.
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|
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| "But is this simply part of the order of nature? Is it because this land of
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| ours is so poor that it cannot afford a decent life to those who dwell
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| upon it? No, comrades, a thousand times no! The soil of England is
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| fertile, its climate is good, it is capable of affording food in abundance
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| to an enormously greater number of animals than now inhabit it. This
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| single farm of ours would support a dozen horses, twenty cows,
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| hundreds of sheep-and all of them living in a comfort and a dignity that
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| are now almost beyond our imagining. Why then do we continue in this
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| miserable condition? Because nearly the whole of the produce of our
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| labour is stolen from us by human beings. There, comrades, is the
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| answer to all our problems. It is summed up in a single word-Man. Man
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| is the only real enemy we have. Remove Man from the scene, and the
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| root cause of hunger and overwork is abolished for ever.
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|
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| "Man is the only creature that consumes without producing. He does
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| not give milk, he does not lay eggs, he is too weak to pull the plough,
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| he cannot run fast enough to catch rabbits. Yet he is lord of all the
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| animals. He sets them to work, he gives back to them the bare
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| minimum that will prevent them from starving, and the rest he keeps
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| for himself. Our labour tills the soil, our dung fertilises it, and yet there
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| is not one of us that owns more than his bare skin. You cows that I see
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| before me, how many thousands of gallons of milk have you given
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| during this last year? And what has happened to that milk which should
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| have been breeding up sturdy calves? Every drop of it has gone down
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| the throats of our enemies.
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|
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| And you hens, how many eggs have you laid
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| in this last year, and how many of those eggs ever hatched into
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| chickens? The rest have all gone to market to bring in money for Jones
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| and his men. And you, Clover, where are those four foals you bore,
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| who should have been the support and pleasure of your old age? Each
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| was sold at a year old-you will never see one of them again. In return
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| for your four confinements and all your labour in the fields, what have
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| you ever had except your bare rations and a stall?
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|
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| "And even the miserable lives we lead are not allowed to reach their
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| natural span. For myself I do not grumble, for I am one of the lucky
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| ones. I am twelve years old and have had over four hundred children.
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| Such is the natural life of a pig. But no animal escapes the cruel knife in
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| the end. You young porkers who are sitting in front of me, every one of
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| you will scream your lives out at the block within a year. To that horror
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| we all must come-cows, pigs, hens, sheep, everyone. Even the horses
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| and the dogs have no better fate. You, Boxer, the very day that those
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| great muscles of yours lose their power, Jones will sell you to the
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| knacker, who will cut your throat and boil you down for the foxhounds.
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| As for the dogs, when they grow old and toothless, Jones ties a brick
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| round their necks and drowns them in the nearest pond.
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|
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| "Is it not crystal clear, then, comrades, that all the evils of this life of
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| ours spring from the tyranny of human beings? Only get rid of Man,
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| and the produce of our labour would be our own. A1most overnight we
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| could become rich and free. What then must we do? Why, work night
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| and day, body and soul, for the overthrow of the human race! That is
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| my message to you, comrades: Rebellion! I do not know when that
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| Rebellion will come, it might be in a week or in a hundred years, but I
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| know, as surely as I see this straw beneath my feet, that sooner or later
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| justice will be done. Fix your eyes on that, comrades, throughout the
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| short remainder of your lives! And above all, pass on this message of
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| mine to those who come after you, so that future generations shall carry
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| on the struggle until it is victorious.
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|
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| "And remember, comrades, your resolution must never falter. No
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| argument must lead you astray. Never listen when they tell you that
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| Man and the animals have a common interest, that the prosperity of the
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| one is the prosperity of the others. It is all lies. Man serves the interests
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| of no creature except himself. And among us animals let there be
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| perfect unity, perfect comradeship in the struggle. All men are enemies.
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| All animals are comrades."
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|
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| At this moment there was a tremendous uproar. While Major was
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| speaking four large rats had crept out of their holes and were sitting on
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| their hindquarters, listening to him. The dogs had suddenly caught sight
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| of them, and it was only by a swift dash for their holes that the rats
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| saved their lives. Major raised his trotter for silence.
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| "Comrades," he said, "here is a point that must be settled. The wild
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| creatures, such as rats and rabbits-are they our friends or our enemies?
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| Let us put it to the vote. I propose this question to the meeting: Are rats
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| comrades?"
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|
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| The vote was taken at once, and it was agreed by an overwhelming
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| majority that rats were comrades. There were only four dissentients, the
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| three dogs and the cat, who was afterwards discovered to have voted on
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| both sides. Major continued:
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| "I have little more to say. I merely repeat, remember always your duty
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| of enmity towards Man and all his ways. Whatever goes upon two legs
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| is an enemy. Whatever goes upon four legs, or has wings, is a friend.
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| And remember also that in fighting against Man, we must not come to
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| resemble him. Even when you have conquered him, do not adopt his
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| vices. No animal must ever live in a house, or sleep in a bed, or wear
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| clothes, or drink alcohol, or smoke tobacco, or touch money, or engage
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| in trade. All the habits of Man are evil. And, above all, no animal must
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| ever tyrannise over his own kind. Weak or strong, clever or simple, we
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| are all brothers. No animal must ever kill any other animal. All animals
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| are equal.
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|
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| "And now, comrades, I will tell you about my dream of last night. I
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| cannot describe that dream to you. It was a dream of the earth as it will
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| be when Man has vanished. But it reminded me of something that I had
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| long forgotten. Many years ago, when I was a little pig, my mother and
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| the other sows used to sing an old song of which they knew only the
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| tune and the first three words. I had known that tune in my infancy, but
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| it had long since passed out of my mind. Last night, however, it came
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| back to me in my dream. And what is more, the words of the song also
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| came back-words, I am certain, which were sung by the animals of long
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| ago and have been lost to memory for generations. I will sing you that
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| song now, comrades. I am old and my voice is hoarse, but when I have
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| taught you the tune, you can sing it better for yourselves. It is called
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| Beasts of England."
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|
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| Old Major cleared his throat and began to sing. As he had said, his
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| voice was hoarse, but he sang well enough, and it was a stirring tune,
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| something between Clementine and La Cucaracha. The words ran:
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|
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|
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| ''Beasts of England, beasts of Ireland,''
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|
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| ''Beasts of every land and clime,''
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|
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| ''Hearken to my joyful tidings''
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|
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| ''Of the golden future time.''
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|
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|
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| ''Soon or late the day is coming,''
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|
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| ''Tyrant Man shall be o'erthrown,''
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|
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| ''And the fruitful fields of England''
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|
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| ''Shall be trod by beasts alone.''
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|
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|
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| ''Rings shall vanish from our noses,''
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|
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| ''And the harness from our back,''
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|
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| ''Bit and spur shall rust forever,''
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|
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| ''Cruel whips no more shall crack.''
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|
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|
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| ''Riches more than mind can picture,''
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|
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| ''Wheat and barley, oats and hay,''
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|
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| ''Clover, beans, and mangel-wurzels''
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|
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| ''Shall be ours upon that day.''
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|
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|
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| ''Bright will shine the fields of England,''
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|
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| ''Purer shall its waters be,''
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|
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| ''Sweeter yet shall blow its breezes''
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|
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| ''On the day that sets us free.''
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|
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|
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| ''For that day we all must labour,
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|
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| ''Though we die before it break;''
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|
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| ''Cows and horses, geese and turkeys,''
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|
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| ''All must toil for freedom's sake.''
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|
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|
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| ''Beasts of England, beasts of Ireland,''
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|
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| ''Beasts of every land and clime,''
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|
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| ''Hearken well and spread my tidings''
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|
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| ''Of the golden future time.''
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|
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|
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| The singing of this song threw the animals into the wildest excitement.
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| Almost before Major had reached the end, they had begun singing it for
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| themselves. Even the stupidest of them had already picked up the tune
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| and a few of the words, and as for the clever ones, such as the pigs and
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| dogs, they had the entire song by heart within a few minutes. And then,
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| after a few preliminary tries, the whole farm burst out into Beasts of
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| England in tremendous unison. The cows lowed it, the dogs whined it,
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| the sheep bleated it, the horses whinnied it, the ducks quacked it. They
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| were so delighted with the song that they sang it right through five
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| times in succession, and might have continued singing it all night if
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| they had not been interrupted.
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|
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| Unfortunately, the uproar awoke Mr. Jones, who sprang out of bed,
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| making sure that there was a fox in the yard. He seized the gun which
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| always stood in a corner of his bedroom, and let fly a charge of number
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| 6 shot into the darkness. The pellets buried themselves in the wall of
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| the barn and the meeting broke up hurriedly. Everyone fled to his own
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| sleeping-place. The birds jumped on to their perches, the animals
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| settled down in the straw, and the whole farm was asleep in a moment.
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| </div> | | </div> |
| | | {{DISPLAYTITLE:''Animal Farm''}} |
| [[Category:English]] | | [[Category:English]] |
| [[Category:Novels]] | | [[Category:George Orwell novels]] |
| | [[Category:Fairy tales]] |
| | {{PD-pma|1950}} |
