I N T R O D U C T I O N
Whatever goes upon two legs is an enemy24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGmGlDTEjT5
Whatever goes upon four legs, or has wings, is a friend24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvFPMbrLRSL
No animal shall wear clothes24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡi9lQQd0Ni6
No animal shall sleep in a bed with sheets24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJHtY5apm3N
No animal shall drink alcohol to excess
No animal shall kill any other animal without cause24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡly6wsMm3As
All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others
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The days turned like leaves on the trees; weeks bled into weeks, and the calendar completed its twelve-year round — the Year of the Dog had come and gone, and now, as had been the custom from time out of mind, the Year of the Pig had come round.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡj2BTCRn4NR
Twelve years had passed since the animals of Animal Farm, under pig leadership, had thrown off their hated master, Mr Jones. The news of it shook the whole of the South of England — perhaps the whole of England, for all anyone knew — and set the townsfolk and villagers abuzz with speculation: how on earth could such a thing have happened?
Before that revolutionary hour, no one could have imagined that one quiet evening an old boar called Major — a nobody beyond the farm’s borders — would gather the animals round him in the barn and reveal the truth: that all their troubles came from Man, and that if Man were overthrown, life would become beautiful, plentiful, and sweet, for Man is miserable, worthless, greedy and... Major did not speak for long, but every creature in that barn drank in his words like water after a drought and was instantly filled with revolutionary zeal. And the pigs — who else, indeed! — in that historic moment took upon themselves the unbearable burden of leadership and seized the helm of change.
Such was the truth of it. Those who wish to know more may consult the archives of history or the memoirs of the classical chronicler — that eyewitness who carefully set down the whole sequence of events, and who presented, in all its glory and grandeur, the figure of the great Major’s disciple and follower: another boar called Napoleon.
Whether for good or ill, Major died of old age before the whirlwind of events had truly begun. Yet his doctrine — that Man is a blight upon the Earth — remained, beyond all doubt, the one and only truth for years to come. First, naturally, the progressive pigs under Napoleon’s leadership embraced it, and then all the rest followed.
Of course, it would be naive to suppose that among the farm’s inhabitants there were none who doubted the theory of revolutionary struggle. But such is the way of the world that even among raindrops you will find those who ask: “Is it worth falling to the ground? Is any of this right? And who, for heaven’s sake, decided that a drop must fall downwards?”
Rebellion, it must be said, is a trickier business than rain, and some inevitably begin to have second thoughts. There were those convinced that revolutions were harmful, that the blood of the unarmed, the executions of the blameless, and rewards for the clueless were all wrong — and that those who had stirred the animals to revolt should be held to account.
But the renegades were a minority. A truly revolutionary mass is always certain: every pig who leads an uprising is a genius, proof against doubt and unafraid of error. In a revolution, principles — and principles alone — matter! And the supreme principle is the Leader! Without a Leader, no one has a future, and nothing worthwhile will ever be achieved.
In the end, all the animalfarmers came to accept that Napoleon must be loved — it was essential — and that the executions of those who dissented had not been in vain; the ranks had been purged, and nothing now stood in the way of building a new happiness under the wise guidance of their Leader. And time flowed on according to its own laws, ageing one generation and strengthening the next...
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In a couple of years — and here we step beyond the chronicle of the classic eyewitness — Napoleon’s ideas of class struggle had gained such force in the South of England that a similar revolt broke out on the neighbouring farm of Pinchfield. The struggle there proved less bloody than on Animal Farm, and, inspired by their comrades’ example, the Pinchfield animals won their victory too, driving out the hated human farmer, Mr Frederick.
On this occasion, Napoleon, leader of the free swine world, made an official visit to the heroic farm. He presented the Pinchfielders with a cartload of last year’s hay, offered thunderous congratulations and praise at several celebratory meetings, and solemnly cut the ribbon at the opening ceremony of a new barn — named, of course, after himself.
But before this, a small mishap occurred. On the way to Pinchfield, the foolish horses pulling Napoleon’s dogcart suddenly drifted off into a daydream and took a road that led not to Pinchfield but to Foxwood, the farm of the prosperous Mr Pilkington. A few hundred yards on, the dogcart got well and truly stuck in a ditch that, it seemed, had not been there before — at least none of Napoleon’s numerous loyal retinue recalled the ground having broken open so recently. The dogcart was hopelessly lodged, and no matter how hard the Leader’s retinue puffed and sweated, there was no hope of getting it back out. Nothing could be done but to send to Pinchfield for draught horses. These, not without effort, hauled the carriage free, and all breathed a sigh of relief that the business was over... However, the history of world upheavals had other plans — for the ditch, for Foxwood, for everything else — of which the animals had as yet no inkling.
Enraged, Napoleon issued a decree: the ditch was to be filled in, trampled flat, and a tall stele erected upon it to commemorate “the unshakable courage of Napoleon in the fight against Evil.” The funds for it were extracted from the animals of Pinchfield. They, as we have said, were now very free — but, oddly enough, very poor. Yet they did not dare resist Napoleon; they slaughtered almost all their remaining rabbits, and with the proceeds the monument was completed within a month.
To give the devil his due, the stele was the last of Animal Farm’s architectural monuments extolling the wisdom, intelligence, and heroism of the eternal Leader. By then, Napoleon was an old boar. Walking on two legs had become a trial; the suits salvaged from the former master’s house — Mr Jones’s house — pinched him at the sides; and a whole catalogue of old-age complaints, not least a liver pickled by drink, weighed heavily upon him. For these reasons, in his final days, the Leader of the Free World fell back from two legs to four.
It must be noted that this event required careful handling and meticulous preparation of public opinion. Years earlier, the first transition — when the pigs had risen from four legs to two — had been a revolutionary novelty and a source of particular pride, and all the South of England had learnt of it through Napoleon’s personal emissary, the boar most devoted to him: Squealer. But now Squealer himself was already quite old. His tail, which in his youth had spun so briskly with lies, had slackened, and his little eyes had gone from sly porcine slits to fixed, glassy orbs that brooked no contradiction.
Squealer assembled the animals in the barn and brought out the last of the sheep who still remembered the Rebellion, so that they might bleat the ancient revolutionary slogan: “Four legs good, two legs bad!” But the sheep had sunk into such senility that they had forgotten the words altogether. In their shame, they wet themselves and dropped dead on the spot, one by one. This rather spoiled the effect Squealer had been counting on. It seemed to him the animals felt more pity for the sheep than joy at their Leader’s return to four legs. However, the three Rottweilers present at the meeting growled so ferociously that the cows, sheep, horses, and assorted geese broke into delight — the great Leader had, after all, acted wisely!
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A month later, Napoleon too breathed his last. But not all at once, as befitted a great leader. On a rainy summer’s day, he assembled in his bedchamber the five most worthy pigs to address them. As we shall soon see, Fate had assigned each of them an important part in the history still unfolding in the South of England — a turbulent, dramatic, epoch-making history, one might say, in which each would reveal himself from his strongest — and sometimes most unexpected — side.
And so, kneeling before the Leader’s bed — he was covered head to foot with a sheet — four pigs arranged mournful expressions on their snouts and stood quite still. Behind them, with a goose feather in one hoof and a sheet of parchment in the other, sniffled the fifth: Squealer. He was to take down every word in shorthand, so that future generations might repeat and repeat the Leader’s wise thoughts, uttered in this solemn hour.
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Napoleon was weak and spoke very softly:24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNV9KEN8rQ8
“Comrades... I have lived a long life — and, I daresay, a happy one. When I was young, fortune placed me at the head of the great movement to which we were summoned by the immortal vision of our teacher, the greatest boar who ever lived — Major. You all remember how we drove the accursed human from these lands. Through hardship, through hunger, through every deprivation, we began to build — for all of us — a future worthy of our struggle.”24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbLz8zFcqu5
Napoleon paused, licked his lips, and went on in a lower voice:24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiScoqv5jzt
“...for all of us... and for the rest of the sh—” (the word was barely audible).
“For years beyond counting, I have led you on the path of victory and achievement. I would gladly have gone on, but I can feel my strength ebbing, and the hour has come — the hour to pass the torch...”24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7vf0jCA5m0
At this, the five pigs exchanged swift, hungry glances, their heads bobbing in unison.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡq14albiVBa
“...to pass the torch to a worthy successor. More on that presently. But first, I must speak of what has weighed on my mind — above all else — in these final days.”
“Just think of it — what would have become of Animal Farm without us? Without us pigs? What if someone else had taken up the class struggle that raged so fiercely? What if we had faltered, even for an instant, in that historic confrontation with Jones? What if our hand had not been firm — no, merciless — in dealing with traitors?24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeVTLQhMK23
We have come a long way, comrades. A long and glorious way. Pinchfield followed our lead, and I have no doubt that every farm in the South of England will in due course do the same.”
The only sound to accompany Napoleon’s insinuating voice was the scratch of Squealer’s quill as he moved it across the parchment.
“But what about the other farms?” the Leader went on. “Take Foxwood, for example. As we know, it is run by a certain Mr Pilkington. He is beyond us. He does not wish to be friends with us and — more to the point — we do not know whether he shares our values. Here in the South of England, everyone has already understood this: only the rule of pigs can change the world for the better. Everything we do, we do right, and we make no mistakes. And yet I hear no approval from Foxwood, no admiration — no admiration for us, for our achievements... There, no one believes the order established on Animal Farm to be the only possible one. And does anyone disagree? How strange. For whoever disagrees with this must, in the end, agree! One way or another. And whoever does not agree shall agree all the same.”
At this, the assembly exchanged puzzled looks, but, as if suddenly enlightened, they all nodded in approval once more. Napoleon fixed his gaze on Squealer and, having made sure he was noting everything down, continued...
“Now let me ask you this: who else but us would be interested in spreading these values? How can Mr Pilkington be so blind to what is obvious? We, in defending what is right, have shed our own blood...” — the Leader faltered for a moment, but quickly recovered — “...shed blood on the battlefield. We lost our finest comrades so that every animal might live by the ideals of the pigs. And our greatest ideal is freedom! And now, for our animals, it has arrived! Now they are free to do as they please; no need to worry about the future. That burden is ours, pigs — the architects of supreme justice. We, and we alone, have brought them happiness and given them true swineocracy. And we ask you: do you not believe us? Then look here! Take our flock of sheep, for example. They graze; they are cheerful. Cheerful and happy, because they can roam the lawn, nibble the grass, and gaze at the clouds above... We do not forbid them this! More than that, we go further and say: every sheep is not only free, but an individual, and its desires are permissible. On the lawn, any desire is permissible. And even if a sheep decides it is no longer a sheep, but, say, a goat — that is its right. That is what our values are! That is what our freedom is! And no one will harm a single sheep who, by its faith, has become a goat. In this lies the greatest achievement of swineocracy!”
Here Napoleon noticed a tear rolling down Billy’s cheek, the oldest boar after Napoleon himself:24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIY47Ryd9iJ
“Billy, you have a big heart! But please do not forget,” — and to some, the Leader’s tone seemed suddenly to shift — “the lawn has its limits; one must not go beyond them... And every evening, one must leave the lawn. Above all, those sheep who suddenly, for no reason, decide that they are now pigs — those sheep must leave first. That is how it is... Leave the lawn,” — Napoleon added meaningfully. “And to help you, I have my friends,” — the Leader cast a glance at the two huge Rottweilers guarding the entrance to his chambers. — “Order, gentlemen — order is the foundation of universal happiness. Order, the lawn, in the evening — back to the barn. That is true freedom!”
“But let us return to Foxwood. Why, I ask, is it not as we are? Has he lost his mind? Or is man simply incapable of grasping a pig’s wisdom? No, I tell you — incapable. Pilkington is a foolish coward. He wants no change, no progress. He rejects our ideals — and that, as everyone here can plainly see, is an obstacle! Pinchfield is no obstacle, is it? Everything is fine there. Pinchfield adores us. We gave them revolution. We gave them our values... And they gave us their beetroot field. Fair enough. Everyone is happy. But Foxwood? The richest potato field in all of England — and what do we get from it? Nothing. Pilkington does not care that our numbers are swelling, that we are squeezed for room, that we are not as well fed as we once were. Think about this. Think harder. Think faster. The more values we bring to Foxwood, the sooner that field will be ours! We must live at the expense of others — we can live at our own expense later. Throw into the class struggle every ounce of piggishness I have taught you. Remember: man is beneath you. Pigs are above men — history bears witness to that... And it falls to you to make sure everyone learns it.”
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And now, to the main point. I have long considered what is needed to ensure that the ideals of the Revolution do not perish. And I have decided: you will form the Swine Council, which will lead our righteous cause and guide all the animals of England! You, and you alone, here in this room, will carry on the work of our heroes!
At these last words, Napoleon was seized by a violent coughing fit, closed his eyes, and fell still. The kneeling pigs exchanged bewildered glances... The Leader’s speech was stirring, no doubt — but rumours of the Council had already swept across the farm. Who would lead it? Had they rehearsed their expressions of porcine grief all night for nothing?
“And now...” — Napoleon gave a sudden grunt and revived — “I shall name my successor. You all agree that he must be the worthiest! And if that is so — then he shall be...”24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoRvJ2m6TUR
The tension in the room reached its peak. Billy — big-hearted Billy — unable to contain himself, let out an anxious fart.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtc7pzwLyxV
“Pooh...” — Napoleon wrinkled his snout, sighed heavily...24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuD2RMA99er
And passed away.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqvvD29c8WQ
“Poo?!” — with crushing disappointment, the four loyal pigs gasped as one and stared at the fifth — a grizzled boar whose name, among them, alone began with “Poo...” — “Poond?!” (that was how the perpetually drunk Mr Jones always pronounced the fine old English word “Pound”).
The boar, stunned by this stroke of luck, grinned foolishly, shook his head, and grunted his thanks:24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4q7tUigJ0R
“Thank you all, thank you! Glory to the great Napoleon!”24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtFKCB1hvsh
“Glory... to the great... Napoleon...” — the remaining members of the Swine Council muttered under their breath as they filed out of the bedchamber, steeped in the deepest disappointment.
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On Animal Farm, half a year of mourning was declared. Squealer once again assembled the animals to announce that the Swine Council — as the ruling body was now called — would build a pyramid to house the remains of Napoleon and his teacher Major, as an inspiration to all animalfarmers.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡssA3ZOEOqL
He then read out the verses he had composed overnight in honour of the departed Napoleon. The animals formed a circle and sang them three times:
We suffered for ages,24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjMHzdN7UwN
Without him — no sun!24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFlOoXJqhuq
Our battles all won!24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrRydn7Tty4
O, Napoleon!
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The skies are all grey,24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBWUJcOqmgn
He blows grey away,24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6hejdlJ1Yc
He broke dark alone!24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡL8Ph6w5tRk
O, Napoleon!
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The swine wisdom brings you24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡF8ODHl7MTl
Abundance in life —24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQlKdfrA9in
Without it, we're nothing,24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5hHarDEJ9S
No joy, only strife!
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If fields all around24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaJ4Am19kz6
Are vast and unbound,24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUEdsQxW3bM
Our enemies owe them —24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNqZsAYlHSf
And there is no doubt!
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Arranging a lawn24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTtaVR9zJpP
For a sheep to turn goat24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAzVrnpde9w
Is our main dream,24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgPLWsiQPLc
It's a glorious theme!
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No nonsense, no doubt,24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9S33JC6m8T
A pig is a saint,24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXZpWgm1VSU
This truth we must shout24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXU9QCvV3Ei
Without a complaint!
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The world will uphold us —24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ37QQHjKein
That's the rule all must learn!24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtWxJJgKouA
Together we'll sing:24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyP3RGaPXmt
O, adored Napoleon!
“Well... there we are...” — Squealer grunted contentedly as the singing died away.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡx7tRp9zGNO
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Two months later, in the very centre of the farm, stood a tall pyramid of the finest pressed hay. Above its entrance — in true pyramid fashion — were inscribed the four commandments Squealer had distilled from Napoleon’s deathbed speech:24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSG9BdI6tlz
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The Pig is always right.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpbdgVWUOwm
To live on your own is wrong.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxCdLqbNSdz
He who disagrees with the Pig, still agrees.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCOZWSXgJQ7
On the lawn, every sheep is his own person — even if he is a goat.
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...and the entrance was guarded day and night by the two fiercest Rottweilers.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQ2Plu72Mdr
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That is all. From here begins the Newest History of Animal Farm — and its first epochal event will be the Exodus.
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and then Add to home screen.