It's Like A Game of Cards
YEARS passed. The seasons came and went, the short animal lives fled by. A time came when there was no one who remembered the old days before the Rebellion, except Clover, Benjamin, Moses the raven, and a number of the pigs.
Spring goes to autumn, year after year. As the years passed, animals with shorter lifespans died one after another. At present, apart from Claver, Benjamin, the crow Moses, and some pigs, none of them can remember the days before the uprising.
Muriel was dead; Bluebell, Jessie, and Pincher were dead. Jones too was dead-he had died in an inebriates' home in another part of the country. Snowball was forgotten. Boxer was forgotten, except by the few who had known him. Clover was an old stout mare now, stiff in the joints and with a tendency to rheumy eyes. She was two years past the retiring age, but in fact no animal had ever actually retired.
Muriel is dead, Brubyl, Jesse, Pincher are dead, Jones is dead, he died in an alcoholic's house elsewhere in the country. Snowboy was forgotten. Bauxer was also forgotten, except that only a few animals that had known each other remembered it. Clover is old now, fat, with stiff joints and a lump of in her eyes. She's been older than two years at retirement age, but in reality, not a single animal has ever actually retired.
The talk of setting aside a corner of the pasture for superannuated animals had long since been dropped. Napoleon was now a mature boar of twenty-four stone. Squealer was so fat that he could with difficulty see out of his eyes. Only old Benjamin was much the same as ever, except for being a little greyer about the muzzle, and, since Boxer's death, more morose and taciturn than ever.
The topic of setting aside a corner of a large ranch for retired animals has long since been set aside. Today Napoleon is a fully fledged male pig weighing more than three hundred pounds. Squilla was so fat that she seemed to find it difficult to even open her eyes and look out. Only old Benjamin, almost as he had in the past, was a little gray around his nose and mouth, and a little more solitary and taciturn since Bowser's death.
There were many more creatures on the farm now, though the increase was not so great as had been expected in earlier years. Many animals had been born to whom the Rebellion was only a dim tradition, passed on by word of mouth, and others had been bought who had never heard mention of such a thing before their arrival.
There are now far more cattle in the estate than before, although the number of increases is not as great as previously foreseen. Many of the animals are born on the estate, while others come from elsewhere. For those animals born in the manor, the uprising was nothing more than a hazy oral legend; for the animals from a foreign land, they had never heard of the uprising before they came to the manor.
The farm possessed three horses now besides Clover. They were fine upstanding beasts, willing workers and good comrades, but very stupid. None of them proved able to learn the alphabet beyond the letter B. They accepted everything that they were told about the Rebellion and the principles of Animalism, especially from Clover, for whom they had an almost filial respect; but it was doubtful whether they understood very much of it.
In the manor now, in addition to Claver, there are three other horses, all of whom are good comrades, all remarkable, all very docile, but unfortunately they are very slow to react. None of them, it seems, could learn the letters after the "B" on the alphabet. They accepted without reservation whatever they could hear about the insurrection and the principles of animalism, especially those that came from Claver's mouth. Their respect for Claver was close to filial piety. However, whether they can understand these truths is still questionable.
The farm was more prosperous now, and better organised: it had even been enlarged by two fields which had been bought from Mr. Pilkington. The windmill had been successfully completed at last, and the farm possessed a threshing machine and a hay elevator of its own, and various new buildings had been added to it. Whymper had bought himself a dogcart. The windmill, however, had not after all been used for generating electrical power. It was used for milling corn, and brought in a handsome money profit.
Now the manor is more prosperous and orderly. Two plots of land were added to the estate, which had been purchased from Mr. Pilkington. The windmill was eventually built successfully, and the estate also had its own threshing machine and forage lift. In addition, many new buildings of various types have been added. Wimpel also bought himself a two-wheeled one-wheeled carriage. In the end, however, the windmills were not used to generate electricity, but to grind millet, and generated considerable profits for the estate.
The animals were hard at work building yet another windmill; when that one was finished, so it was said, the dynamos would be installed. But the luxuries of which Snowball had once taught the animals to dream, the stalls with electric light and hot and cold water, and the three-day week, were no longer talked about. Napoleon had denounced such ideas as contrary to the spirit of Animalism. The truest happiness, he said, lay in working hard and living frugally.
Today, the animals are working hard to build another windmill, and it is said that when this one is completed, a generator will be installed. But when talking about windmills, Snowboy guided the animals to imagine the inexhaustible comforts, the shacks with electric lights and hot and cold water, the three-day-a-week workday, which is no longer discussed. Napoleon had long denounced that these ideas were contrary to the spirit of animalism. He said that the purest happiness lies in hard work and frugality.
Somehow it seemed as though the farm had grown richer without making the animals themselves any richer-except, of course, for the pigs and the dogs. Perhaps this was partly because there were so many pigs and so many dogs. It was not that these creatures did not work, after their fashion. There was, as Squealer was never tired of explaining, endless work in the supervision and organisation of the farm. Much of this work was of a kind that the other animals were too ignorant to understand.
I don't know why, anyway, it seems that the manor has become rich, but the animals themselves have not become rich at all, of course, pigs and dogs to be excluded. Perhaps, part of the reason is that there are more pigs and dogs. Animals at their level work in their own way. As Squilla was happy to explain, there was much going on in the overseeing and organizing of the manor, and in this kind there was much work that other animals could not comprehend because of their ignorance.
For example, Squealer told them that the pigs had to expend enormous labours every day upon mysterious things called "files," "reports," "minutes," and "memoranda." These were large sheets of paper which had to be closely covered with writing, and as soon as they were so covered, they were burnt in the furnace. This was of the highest importance for the welfare of the farm, Squealer said. But still, neither pigs nor dogs produced any food by their own labour; and there were very many of them, and their appetites were always good.
For example, Squilla told them that pigs expend a lot of energy every day on mysterious matters such as so-called "documents," "reports," "minutes of meetings," and "memos." Such documents are numerous and must be carefully filled out, and once completed, they must be burned in the furnace. Squilla said it was the most important work done for the well-being of the estate. But so far, neither pigs nor dogs have produced a single grain themselves, and they are still numerous, and their appetite is always very strong.
As for the others, their life, so far as they knew, was as it had always been. They were generally hungry, they slept on straw, they drank from the pool, they laboured in the fields; in winter they were troubled by the cold, and in summer by the flies. Sometimes the older ones among them racked their dim memories and tried to determine whether in the early days of the Rebellion, when Jones's expulsion was still recent, things had been better or worse than now. They could not remember.
As for the other animals, as far as they know, their lives are as good as ever. They are generally starving, sleeping on grass mats, drinking water from ponds, doing field work, trapped by the cold in the winter, and replaced by flies in the summer. Sometimes, the elders among them racked their brains and tried their best to search for clues to memories from those indifferent impressions, trying to infer that the early days after the uprising, just after the expulsion of Jones, were better or worse than they are now, but they could not remember.
There was nothing with which they could compare their present lives: they had nothing to go upon except Squealer's lists of figures, which invariably demonstrated that everything was getting better and better. The animals found the problem insoluble; in any case, they had little time for speculating on such things now. Only old Benjamin professed to remember every detail of his long life and to know that things never had been, nor ever could be much better or much worse-hunger, hardship, and disappointment being, so he said, the unalterable law of life.
Nothing can be compared to life now, they don't have any credentials to compare other than Squilla's series of numbers, and Squilla's numbers always show that everything is getting better and better. The animals found the problem unclear, and in any case, they had little time to think about such things now. Only benjamin Sr. is different, claiming to remember every detail of his long life and saying that he recognizes that things have not been in the past and that there will be no better or worse in the future. Therefore, he said that the reality of hunger, hardship and disappointment is the immutable law of life.
And yet the animals never gave up hope. More, they never lost, even for an instant, their sense of honour and privilege in being members of Animal Farm. They were still the only farm in the whole county-in all England!-owned and operated by animals. Not one of them, not even the youngest, not even the newcomers who had been brought from farms ten or twenty miles away, ever ceased to marvel at that.
Still, the animals have not given up hope. To be precise, as members of Animal Farm, they never lost their sense of honor and superiority, not even for a moment. Their estate remains the only farm in the whole country – of all the British Isles – that is owned and managed by animals. The members of them, even the youngest, and even the new members from the manor ten or twenty miles away, were pleasantly surprised at the thought of this.
And when they heard the gun booming and saw the green flag fluttering at the masthead, their hearts swelled with imperishable pride, and the talk turned always towards the old heroic days, the expulsion of Jones, the writing of the Seven Commandments, the great battles in which the human invaders had been defeated. None of the old dreams had been abandoned.
When they heard the firing of guns and saw the green flag flying on the flagpole, their hearts were filled with immortal pride, and as soon as the topic turned, they often mentioned the epic past, as well as the great battles to drive out Jones, engrave the "Seven Commandments", and repel human invaders. None of those old dreams were abandoned.
The Republic of the Animals which Major had foretold, when the green fields of England should be untrodden by human feet, was still believed in. Some day it was coming: it might not be soon, it might not be with in the lifetime of any animal now living, but still it was coming. Even the tune of Beasts of England was perhaps hummed secretly here and there: at any rate, it was a fact that every animal on the farm knew it, though no one would have dared to sing it aloud.
Think of the "animal republic" predicted by Magier, and the era when there were no more human footprints on the green fields of England, which is still their faith. They still believe that one day that time will come, that maybe it will not come right away, maybe it will not come in the lifetime of any animal that is now alive, but it will come eventually. And to this day, perhaps even the song of the "Beast of England" is still being secretly hummed everywhere, but in fact, every animal in the manor knows it, although no one dares to sing it loudly.
It might be that their lives were hard and that not all of their hopes had been fulfilled; but they were conscious that they were not as other animals. If they went hungry, it was not from feeding tyrannical human beings; if they worked hard, at least they worked for themselves. No creature among them went upon two legs. No creature called any other creature "Master." All animals were equal.
Perhaps, their lives were difficult; perhaps, their hopes were not all fulfilled, but they knew very well that they were different from other animals. If they haven't eaten enough, then it's not because they're feeding it to tyrannical humans; if they're working hard, then at least they're toiling for themselves. Among them, no one walks on two legs, no one calls anyone "Lord", and all animals are equal.
One day in early summer Squealer ordered the sheep to follow him, and led them out to a piece of waste ground at the other end of the farm, which had become overgrown with birch saplings. The sheep spent the whole day there browsing at the leaves under Squealer's supervision. In the evening he returned to the farmhouse himself, but, as it was warm weather, told the sheep to stay where they were. It ended by their remaining there for a whole week, during which time the other animals saw nothing of them. Squealer was with them for the greater part of every day. He was, he said, teaching them to sing a new song, for which privacy was needed.
One day in early summer, Squilla asked the sheep to follow him out, and he led them to the other end of the manor, a wasteland full of birch saplings. Under Squilla's supervision, the sheep ate leaves there for a whole day, and in the evening, Squilla told the sheep that since the weather was warm, they would stay there. Then he returned to the main courtyard himself. The sheep stayed there for a whole week. During this time, the other animals did not see even a trace of their shadow. Squilla spends a lot of time with them every day. He explained that he was teaching them a new song and therefore needed silence.
It was just after the sheep had returned, on a pleasant evening when the animals had finished work and were making their way back to the farm buildings, that the terrified neighing of a horse sounded from the yard. Startled, the animals stopped in their tracks. It was Clover's voice. She neighed again, and all the animals broke into a gallop and rushed into the yard. Then they saw what Clover had seen.
It was a hearty evening and the sheep were back. At that time, the animals had just finished their work and were on their way back to the shack. Suddenly, from the compound came the mournful cry of a horse, and the animals were startled, and all stopped at once. It was Claver's voice, and she hissed again. So all the animals ran and rushed into the compound. At this moment, they saw what Claver saw.
It was a pig walking on his hind legs. Yes, it was Squealer. A little awkwardly, as though not quite used to supporting his considerable bulk in that position, but with perfect balance, he was strolling across the yard. And a moment later, out from the door of the farmhouse came a long file of pigs, all walking on their hind legs.
It was a pig walking on its hind legs. Yes, it was Squilla. He was still a little clumsy as if he was not accustomed to supporting his huge body in this position, but he was able to walk in the yard with skillful balance. After a while, a long line of pigs came out of the gate of the main courtyard, all walking on their hind legs.
Some did it better than others, one or two were even a trifle unsteady and looked as though they would have liked the support of a stick, but every one of them made his way right round the yard successfully. And finally there was a tremendous baying of dogs and a shrill crowing from the black cockerel, and out came Napoleon himself, majestically upright, casting haughty glances from side to side, and with his dogs gambolling round him.
They walked well and badly, and one or two pigs were still a little unsteady, and it looked as if they would have been better suited to finding a stick to support them. However, each pig walked around the yard quite successfully. Finally, in a very loud dog bark and the shrill cry of the black rooster, Napoleon himself stepped out, standing upright in a big way, his eyes glancing at him slightly. His dogs were bouncing around him alive.
He carried a whip in his trotter. There was a deadly silence. Amazed, terrified, huddling together, the animals watched the long line of pigs march slowly round the yard. It was as though the world had turned upside-down. Then there came a moment when the first shock had worn off and when, in spite of everything-in spite of their terror of the dogs, and of the habit, developed through long years, of never complaining, never criticising, no matter what happened-they might have uttered some word of protest. But just at that moment, as though at a signal, all the sheep burst out into a tremendous bleating of-"Four legs good, two legs better! Four legs good, two legs better! Four legs good, two legs better!"
He had a whip in his hoof. A dead silence. Surprised and frightened animals huddled in a pile, watching the long pig walk slowly around the yard. It was as if the world had been completely turned upside down. Then, as they eased up a little from the shock, for a moment they could not care about anything—their fear of dogs, their habit of never complaining or criticizing over the years—that they were about to protest loudly, but at this moment, as if provoked by a signal, all the sheep erupted into a loud roar—"Four legs are better, two legs are better!" Four legs are better, two legs are better! Four legs are better, two legs are better! ”
It went on for five minutes without stopping. And by the time the sheep had quieted down, the chance to utter any protest had passed, for the pigs had marched back into the farmhouse.
The shouting continued for five minutes without interruption. By the time the sheep had quieted down, they had missed any opportunity to protest, for the pigs had lined up to walk back to the main courtyard.
Benjamin felt a nose nuzzling at his shoulder. He looked round. It was Clover. Her old eyes looked dimmer than ever. Without saying anything, she tugged gently at his mane and led him round to the end of the big barn, where the Seven Commandments were written. For a minute or two they stood gazing at the tatted wall with its white lettering.
Benjamin felt a nose rubbing against his shoulder. Looking back, it was Claver. I saw that her tired eyes were even darker than ever. Without saying a word, she gently tugged at his mane and led him to the end of the great barn, where the "Seven Commandments" were written. They stood there staring at the tarmac wall in white lettering for a minute or two.
"My sight is failing," she said finally. "Even when I was young I could not have read what was written there. But it appears to me that that wall looks different. Are the Seven Commandments the same as they used to be, Benjamin?"
"My eyes are gone," she said at last, "even when I was young, I couldn't recognize what was written on it. But today, how can I see this wall differently than before. Are the 'Seven Commandments' still the same as they used to be? Benjamin? ”
For once Benjamin consented to break his rule, and he read out to her what was written on the wall. There was nothing there now except a single Commandment. It ran: ALL ANIMALS ARE EQUAL BUT SOME ANIMALS ARE MORE EQUAL THAN OTHERS.
Only this time, Benjamin promised to make an exception, and he read to her what was written on the wall, and now there was nothing else on it, only a commandment, which was written like this: All animals are equal in one case, but some animals are more equal than others.
After that it did not seem strange when next day the pigs who were supervising the work of the farm all carried whips in their trotters. It did not seem strange to learn that the pigs had bought themselves a wireless set, were arranging to install a telephone, and had taken out subscriptions to John Bull, TitBits, and the Daily Mirror.
From then on, nothing seemed to be unusual: it was not unusual for all the pigs to hold a whip on their hooves while the manor overseers were working the next day; it was not unusual for the pigs to buy themselves a radio and were preparing to install a telephone; to learn that they had subscribed to John The Cow, the Rare News, and the Daily Mirror.
It did not seem strange when Napoleon was seen strolling in the farmhouse garden with a pipe in his mouth-no, not even when the pigs took Mr. Jones's clothes out of the wardrobes and put them on, Napoleon himself appearing in a black coat, ratcatcher breeches, and leather leggings, while his favourite sow appeared in the watered silk dress which Mrs. Jones had been used to wear on Sundays.
It was not unusual; it was not unusual to see Napoleon walking in the garden of the main courtyard with a pipe in his mouth. Yes, no need to make any more fuss. Even if the pig took Mr. Jones's clothes out of the closet and put them on, there was nothing. Today, Napoleon himself wears a black coat and a special pair of breeches, as well as leather leggings, while his beloved sow wears a corrugated skirt that Mrs. Jones used to wear on Sundays.
A week later, in the afternoon, a number of dogcarts drove up to the farm. A deputation of neighbouring farmers had been invited to make a tour of inspection. They were shown all over the farm, and expressed great admiration for everything they saw, especially the windmill. The animals were weeding the turnip field. They worked diligently hardly raising their faces from the ground, and not knowing whether to be more frightened of the pigs or of the human visitors.
One afternoon a week later, a two-wheeled one-wheeled carriage drove into the manor. A delegation of neighbouring lords of the manor has accepted an invitation to visit the area. They toured the entire estate and raved about everything they saw, especially to the windmills. At that time, the animals were weeding in the turnip field, and they did it carefully, rarely raising their faces, and it was not clear whether they were more afraid of pigs or more afraid of the people who came to visit.
That evening loud laughter and bursts of singing came from the farmhouse. And suddenly, at the sound of the mingled voices, the animals were stricken with curiosity. What could be happening in there, now that for the first time animals and human beings were meeting on terms of equality? With one accord they began to creep as quietly as possible into the farmhouse garden.
That night, there was a burst of laughter and singing from the main courtyard. The animals were suddenly captivated by the mixed sounds. They wondered what would happen there, since this was the first time that animals and humans had come together in an equal relationship. So they climbed into the garden of the main courtyard without making any noise.
At the gate they paused, half frightened to go on but Clover led the way in. They tiptoed up to the house, and such animals as were tall enough peered in at the dining-room window. There, round the long table, sat half a dozen farmers and half a dozen of the more eminent pigs, Napoleon himself occupying the seat of honour at the head of the table. The pigs appeared completely at ease in their chairs The company had been enjoying a game of cards but had broken off for the moment, evidently in order to drink a toast. A large jug was circulating, and the mugs were being refilled with beer. No one noticed the wondering faces of the animals that gazed in at the window.
At the door they stopped again, probably too frightened to go any further, but Claver took the lead and went in, and they tiptoed their hooves to the house, and the tall animals looked in from the dining room window. Inside the house, around the long table sat the six lords of the manor and the six most famous pigs, and Napoleon himself sat in the chair of the host at the head of the table, and the pig appeared comfortable in the chair. The host and guest had been playing poker with relish, but paused for a moment in between, apparently to prepare for a toast. There was a large jar that was passing among them, and the cup was filled with beer. None of them noticed that there were a lot of surprised faces staring inside the window.
Mr. Pilkington, of Foxwood, had stood up, his mug in his hand. In a moment, he said, he would ask the present company to drink a toast. But before doing so, there were a few words that he felt it incumbent upon him to say.
Mr. Pilkington of Foxwood Manor stood up with his cup raised. He said, wait a moment, he wants to toast all the people present. Before that, he felt that there were a few words that needed to be said first.
It was a source of great satisfaction to him, he said-and, he was sure, to all others present-to feel that a long period of mistrust and misunderstanding had now come to an end. There had been a time-not that he, or any of the present company, had shared such sentiments-but there had been a time when the respected proprietors of Animal Farm had been regarded, he would not say with hostility, but perhaps with a certain measure of misgiving, by their human neighbours. Unfortunate incidents had occurred, mistaken ideas had been current. It had been felt that the existence of a farm owned and operated by pigs was somehow abnormal and was liable to have an unsettling effect in the neighbourhood.
He said he believed that he and all those present were delighted that the long-standing era of suspicion and misunderstanding was over. There was a time when neither he himself nor the princes here felt the same way he does today, when the venerable owners of animal farms, who had received the attention of their human neighbors, preferred to say that much of this concern was motivated by a certain degree of anxiety rather than with hostility. Unfortunate events have happened, and misconceptions have prevailed. A manor owned by and managed by pigs has also felt somewhat ill-gotten and has the potential to disrupt neighboring estates.
Too many farmers had assumed, without due enquiry, that on such a farm a spirit of licence and indiscipline would prevail. They had been nervous about the effects upon their own animals, or even upon their human employees. But all such doubts were now dispelled. Today he and his friends had visited Animal Farm and inspected every inch of it with their own eyes, and what did they find? Not only the most up-to-date methods, but a discipline and an orderliness which should be an example to all farmers everywhere. He believed that he was right in saying that the lower animals on Animal Farm did more work and received less food than any animals in the county. Indeed, he and his fellow-visitors today had observed many features which they intended to introduce on their own farms immediately.
A considerable number of manor owners, without proper investigation, have inferred that in such manors, there must be a kind of debauchery and evil atmosphere spreading everywhere. They worry that the condition will affect their own animals and even their employees. But now, all that skepticism has vanished. Today, he and his friends visited Animal Farm, observing every corner of the farm with their own eyes. What did they find? Not only are there state-of-the-art methods here, but they are also disciplined and methodical, which should be an example for manor owners everywhere to follow. He believed, and he was sure, that the subordinate animals of Animal Farm did more work and ate less than any animal in the country. Indeed, he and the members of his delegation saw much of what was special today, and they were ready to introduce them immediately into their respective estates.
He would end his remarks, he said, by emphasising once again the friendly feelings that subsisted, and ought to subsist, between Animal Farm and its neighbours. Between pigs and human beings there was not, and there need not be, any clash of interests whatever. Their struggles and their difficulties were one. Was not the labour problem the same everywhere? Here it became apparent that Mr. Pilkington was about to spring some carefully prepared witticism on the company, but for a moment he was too overcome by amusement to be able to utter it. After much choking, during which his various chins turned purple, he managed to get it out: "If you have your lower animals to contend with," he said, "we have our lower classes!" This bon mot set the table in a roar.
He said that he would like to conclude his statement by reaffirming once again the friendship that has been established and should be established between Animal Farm and its neighbours. There is no conflict of interest between pigs and people, and there should be no conflict of interest in any sense. Their goals and difficulties are consistent. Aren't labor issues the same everywhere? At this point, it is evident that Mr. Pilkington wanted to suddenly utter a well-thought-out phrase, but he was so happy for a moment that he could not speak, and he tried to suppress it, and his jaw was purple, and finally he popped out: "If you have your lower animals against you," he said, "We have our lower class!" This timeless sentence caused a burst of laughter.
Mr. Pilkington once again congratulated the pigs on the low rations, the long working hours, and the general absence of pampering which he had observed on Animal Farm. And now, he said finally, he would ask the company to rise to their feet and make certain that their glasses were full. "Gentlemen," concluded Mr. Pilkington, "gentlemen, I give you a toast: To the prosperity of Animal Farm!"
Mr. Pilkington once again congratulated the pigs on the low feed supply, the long working hours and the widespread lack of pampering at animal farms. He finally said that at this point, he would ask everyone to stand up and fill the glass with reality. "Gentlemen," said Mr. Pilkington at the end, "I toast you, gentlemen: a toast to the prosperity of Animal Farm!" ”
There was enthusiastic cheering and stamping of feet. Napoleon was so gratified that he left his place and came round the table to clink his mug against Mr. Pilkington's before emptying it. When the cheering had died down, Napoleon, who had remained on his feet, intimated that he too had a few words to say.
A loud cheer and stomping sounded. Napoleon was overjoyed, he left his seat, walked around the table to Mr. Pirkington, touched a cup with him and drank it dry, and as soon as the cheers subsided, Napoleon, who was still standing on his hind legs, signaled that he also had a few words to say.
Like all of Napoleon's speeches, it was short and to the point. He too, he said, was happy that the period of misunderstanding was at an end. For a long time there had been rumours-circulated, he had reason to think, by some malignant enemy-that there was something subversive and even revolutionary in the outlook of himself and his colleagues. They had been credited with attempting to stir up rebellion among the animals on neighbouring farms. Nothing could be further from the truth! Their sole wish, now and in the past, was to live at peace and in normal business relations with their neighbours.
This speech, like all of Napoleon's speeches, was concise and to the point. He said he was also happy for the end of that era of misunderstanding. For a long time there were rumors circulating, and he had reason to think that they were spread by some sinister enemy, that in his and his colleagues's ideas there was something subversive, even fundamentally destructive. They have been seen as an attempt to incite the animals of the neighboring estates to rebel. However, the truth is that no rumor can hide it. Their only wish, in the past and now, is to coexist peacefully with their neighbours and to maintain normal trade relations.
This farm which he had the honour to control, he added, was a co-operative enterprise. The title-deeds, which were in his own possession, were owned by the pigs jointly. He did not believe, he said, that any of the old suspicions still lingered, but certain changes had been made recently in the routine of the farm which should have the effect of promoting confidence stiff further.
He added that the estate he was fortunate to manage was a joint venture. The title deed in his own hand belongs to the pig. He said he believed any old suspicions would not continue. This confidence has been further enhanced by the recent revision of the practice of the estate.
Hitherto the animals on the farm had had a rather foolish custom of addressing one another as "Comrade." This was to be suppressed. There had also been a very strange custom, whose origin was unknown, of marching every Sunday morning past a boar's skull which was nailed to a post in the garden. This, too, would be suppressed, and the skull had already been buried. His visitors might have observed, too, the green flag which flew from the masthead. If so, they would perhaps have noted that the white hoof and horn with which it had previously been marked had now been removed. It would be a plain green flag from now onwards.
For a long time, the animals in the manor also had a rather stupid habit of referring to each other as "comrades". This is to be canceled. Another strange, unclear way of coming from, was to march through the garden every Sunday morning through a male pig's skull nailed to a stake. This one is also going to be canceled. The skull has been buried. His visitors may have seen the green flag flying on the flagpole. If so, they may have noticed that the white hooves and horns painted on the flag in the past are now gone. From now on that flag will be all-green.
He had only one criticism, he said, to make of Mr. Pilkington's excellent and neighbourly speech. Mr. Pilkington had referred throughout to "Animal Farm." He could not of course know-for he, Napoleon, was only now for the first time announcing it-that the name "Animal Farm" had been abolished. Henceforward the farm was to be known as "The Manor Farm"-which, he believed, was its correct and original name.
He said that Mr. Pirkinton's brilliant and friendly speech had only one point to make a supplementary correction. Mr. Pilkington kept mentioning "Animal Farm", of course he did not know, because even napoleon had only declared for the first time that the name "Animal Farm" was invalidated. In the future, the name of the manor will be "Manna Manor", and he believes that this name is its real name and original name.
"Gentlemen," concluded Napoleon, "I will give you the same toast as before, but in a different form. Fill your glasses to the brim. Gentlemen, here is my toast: To the prosperity of The Manor Farm! "
"Gentlemen," he concluded, "I will give you the same greeting, but in a different form, please fill this cup. Gentlemen, this is my message: a toast to the prosperity of Manna Manor! ”
There was the same hearty cheering as before, and the mugs were emptied to the dregs. But as the animals outside gazed at the scene, it seemed to them that some strange thing was happening. What was it that had altered in the faces of the pigs? Clover's old dim eyes flitted from one face to another. Some of them had five chins, some had four, some had three. But what was it that seemed to be melting and changing? Then, the applause having come to an end, the company took up their cards and continued the game that had been interrupted, and the animals crept silently away.
An equally warm and sincere cheer sounded, and the wine was drunk. But as the animals outside watched the scene intently, they seemed to see that something strange was happening. What happened to the pig's face? Claver's aging, dazed eyes swept over one face after another. Some of them have five chins, some have four, some have three, but something seems to be melting away and changing. Then, the warm applause ended, they picked up the playing cards again, continued the game that had just been interrupted, and the animals outside quietly left.
But they had not gone twenty yards when they stopped short. An uproar of voices was coming from the farmhouse. They rushed back and looked through the window again. Yes, a violent quarrel was in progress. There were shoutings, bangings on the table, sharp suspicious glances, furious denials. The source of the trouble appeared to be that Napoleon and Mr. Pilkington had each played an ace of spades simultaneously.
But before they could get out twenty yards, they suddenly stopped again. There was a loud noise coming from the main courtyard. They ran back and looked in through the window again. Yes, there's a lot of noise going on inside. There were shouters and pounding tables; on one side were the sharp eyes of the suspicious ghosts, and on the other side were roaring in denial. The cause of the unrest seems to be because Napoleon and Mr. Pirkington played an A of Spades at the same time.
Twelve voices were shouting in anger, and they were all alike. No question, now, what had happened to the faces of the pigs. The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which.
Twelve voices screamed in unison, how similar they were to Nell! Now, there's no need to ask what's changed on the pig's face. The spirits of the beings outside see man from the pig, from the man to the pig, and from the pig to man; but they can no longer tell who is the pig and who is the man.