isten to him.
At one end of the big barn, on a raised platform, Major had his bed of straw, under a lantern. The lantern hung from a beam. He was twelve years old and was stout. But he was still a mighty pig, with a wise and benevolent appearance. And he had sharp tushes. Soon the other animals began to arrive and sit. First came the three dogs, Bluebell, Jessie, and Pincher, and then the pigs. They sat down in the straw in front of the platform. The hens sat 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. They walked very slowly with great care. Clover was a stout motherly mare. Boxer was an enormous beast. He was nearly eighteen hands high, and he was as strong as two ordinary horses. A white stripe on his nose gave him a stupid appearance. In fact, he was not very intelligent. But he was steady and hard-working.
After the horses came Muriel with Benjamin. Muriel was a white goat, and Benjamin was a donkey. Benjamin was the oldest animal on the farm. He seldom talked. When he talked, he usually made cynical remarks. For instance, he said:
“God gave him a tail to keep the flies off[4], but I prefer not to have the tail and the flies”.
He never laughed among the animals on the farm. He saw nothing to laugh at. Nevertheless, he was devoted to Boxer. They usually spent their Sundays together in the small paddock beyond the orchard. They grazed side by side and never spoke to each other.
The two horses lay down. After that some ducklings, which lost their mother, came into the barn. They wandered from side to side to find some place. Clover made a wall round them with her great foreleg. So the ducklings sat down inside it and promptly fell asleep.
Soon came Mollie, the foolish, pretty white mare who drew Mr. Jones’s trap. She chewed some of sugar. She took a place near the front and began to flirt her white mane. She wanted to show her red ribbons.
Last of all came the cat. The cat looked round, as usual, for the warmest place. Finally the cat sat down between Boxer and Clover. There she purred contentedly throughout Major’s speech. Actually, she did not listen to a word of his speech.
All the animals were now present except Moses. Moses was the tame raven, who slept on a perch behind the back door. When Major saw that everybody was comfortable, he cleared his throat and began:
“Comrades, you heard already about my strange dream last night. But I will talk about that dream later. I have something else to say first. I do not think, comrades, that I shall be with you long. I shall die one day. And it is my duty to give you some wisdom. My life was long. I had much time to think about different things in my stall, when I was alone. I think I can say that I understand the nature of life on this earth. And I want to talk about it.
Now, comrades, what is the nature of our life? Look: our lives are miserable, laborious, and short. The men give us food only to keep the breath in our bodies. The animals who can work must do it all their lives. When they become weak the men slaughter us with hideous cruelty. Which animal in England knows the meaning of happiness or leisure? Nobody! Which animal in England is free? Nobody! The life of an animal is misery and slavery. This is the plain truth.
But is this the law of nature? Is our land poor and cannot give a decent life to those who dwell upon it? No, comrades, a thousand times no! The soil of England is fertile, its climate is good. It can afford food to many animals, to all of them. Our farm can support a dozen horses, twenty cows, hundreds of sheep-and all of them can live in a comfort and a dignity. But we don’t even imagine it at the moment. Why do we live in this miserable condition? Because men steal the results of our labour. There, comrades, is the answer to all our problems. The key is a single word – Man. Man is the only our real enemy. Remove Man from the scene, and the hunger and overwork will leave away.
Man is the only creature that eats and does not do anything. He does not give milk, he does not lay eggs. He is very weak and cannot pull the plough. He cannot run fast to catch rabbits. Yet he is lord of all the animals. We work for him all the time, and what do we have? The minimum. Just not to die from hunger. He keeps everything for himself. Our labour tills the soil, our dung fertilises it. But who owns more than his bare skin? Nobody. I see cows before me. How many thousands of gallons of milk did the man give you last year? And what happened to that milk which was for the sturdy calves? Every drop of it went away to the throats of our enemies.
I hens too. How many eggs did you produce last year? How many of those eggs became chickens? Nearly all of them went to market to bring in money for Jones and his family. And you, Clover, where are your four foals? Will they be the support and pleasure of your old age? Jones sold them all – you will never see them again! You work for him in the fields all the time, but do you get? Bare rations and a stall?!
And even our miserable lives are not long. As for me, I do not grumble. I am lucky. I am twelve years old. I have four hundred children. But many animals can’t escape the cruel knife.
I see young porkers who sit in front of me. Every one of you will die within a year. We all must come to that horror-cows, pigs, hens, sheep, everyone. Even the horses and the dogs have no better fate., Boxer, when your muscles lose their power, Jones will sell you to the knacker. And the knacker will cut your throat. What about the dogs? When they grow old and toothless, Jones will tie a brick round their necks and drown them in the pond.
It is clear, then, comrades, that all the evils of our life come from the tyranny of men. Only get rid of Man, and the produce of our labour will be our own! We can become rich and free. What then must we do? Why, work night and day, to overthrow of the human race! That is my message to you, comrades. Rebellion! I do not know when the Rebellion will come, in a week or in a hundred years. But I know, that sooner or later justice will be done. Think of it, comrades, throughout the short remainder of your lives! And pass my message to those who come after you. Future generations will fight for freedom, the struggle will be victorious!
And remember, comrades, your resolution must never falter. Don’t go astray. Never listen when they tell you that Man and the animals have a common interest. Never listen when they tell you that that the prosperity of the man is the prosperity of the animals. This is not true. Man serves the interests of himself. All men are enemies. All animals are comrades!”
At this moment there was a tremendous uproar. Four large rats crept out of their holes and sat on their hindquarters. They listened to him. The dogs suddenly saw the rats, and tried to catch them. The rats dashed for their holes very fast and saved their lives.
“Comrades,” Major said, “listen to me. The wild creatures, such as rats and rabbits – are they our friends or our enemies? Let us vote. Let us decide: are rats comrades?”
They voted. The majority said that rats were comrades. Only four animals disagreed: the three dogs and the cat. But afterwards it was discovered that the cat voted on both sides.
Major continued:
“I have something more to say. I merely repeat: remember always your duty of enmity towards Man and all his decisions. He who goes upon two legs is an enemy. He who goes upon four legs, or has wings, is a friend. And remember also that when we fight against Man, we must not resemble him. Even when you conquer him, do not adopt his vices. No animal must 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. We are all brothers – weak or strong, clever or simple. No animal must kill any other animal. All animals are equal.
And now, comrades, I will tell you about my dream. I cannot describe that dream to you. It was a dream of the future earth 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 the words of the song also came back. The animals sang these words many years ago, I am certain. I will sing you that song now, comrades. I am old and my voice is hoarse. But when I teach you, you can sing it better. It is called 'Beasts of England’.”
Old Major cleared his throat and began to sing. He sang well, and it was a wonderful song – something between 'Clementine’ and 'La Cucaracha’. Here are the words:
Beasts