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All that year the animals worked like slaves. But they were happy
in their work; they grudged no effort or sacrifice, well aware
that everything that they did was for the benefit of themselves
and those of their kind who would come after them, and not for a pack
of idle, thieving human beings.
Throughout the spring and summer they worked a sixty-hour
week, and in August Napoleon announced that there would be work on
Sunday afternoons as well. This work was strictly voluntary, but any
animal who absented himself from it would have his rations reduced
by half. Even so, it was found necessary to leave certain tasks undone.
The harvest was a little less successful than in the previous year, and
two fields which should have been sown with roots in the early
summer were not sown because the ploughing had not been completed
early enough. It was possible to foresee that the coming winter would
be a hard one.
The windmill presented unexpected difficulties. There was a good
quarry of limestone on the farm, and plenty of sand and cement had
been found in one of the outhouses, so that all the materials for
building were at hand. But the problem the animals could not at first
solve was how to break up the stone into pieces of suitable size. There
seemed no way of doing this except with picks and crowbars, which no
animal could use, because no animal could stand on his hind legs. Only
after weeks of vain effort did the right idea occur to somebody-namely,
to utilise the force of gravity. Huge boulders, far too big to be used as
they were, were lying all over the bed of the quarry. The animals lashed
ropes round these, and then all together, cows, horses, sheep, any
animal that could lay hold of the rope even the pigs sometimes
joined in at critical moments they dragged them with desperate
CHAPTER 6
slowness up the slope to the top of the quarry, where they were toppled
over the edge, to shatter to pieces below. Transporting the stone when
it was once broken was comparatively simple. The horses carried it off
in cart-loads, the sheep dragged single blocks, even Muriel and
Benjamin yoked themselves into an old governess-cart and did their
share. By late summer a sufficient store of stone had accumulated, and
then the building began, under the superintendence of the pigs.
But it was a slow, laborious process. Frequently it took a whole
day of exhausting effort to drag a single boulder to the top of the
quarry, and sometimes when it was pushed over the edge it failed to
break. Nothing could have been achieved without Boxer, whose
strength seemed equal to that of all the rest of the animals put
together. When the boulder began to slip and the animals cried out in
despair at finding themselves dragged down the hill, it was always
Boxer who strained himself against the rope and brought the boulder
to a stop. To see him toiling up the slope inch by inch, his breath
coming fast, the tips of his hoofs clawing at the ground, and his great
sides matted with sweat, filled everyone with admiration. Clover
warned him sometimes to be careful not to overstrain himself, but
Boxer would never listen to her. His two slogans, I will work harder
and Napoleon is always right, seemed to him a sufficient answer to
all problems. He had made arrangements with the cockerel to call him
three-quarters of an hour earlier in the mornings instead of half an
hour. And in his spare moments, of which there were not many
nowadays, he would go alone to the quarry, collect a load of broken
stone, and drag it down to the site of the windmill unassisted.
The animals were not badly off throughout that summer, in spite
of the hardness of their work. If they had no more food than they had
had in Joness day, at least they did not have less. The advantage of
only having to feed themselves, and not having to support five
extravagant human beings as well, was so great that it would have
taken a lot of failures to outweigh it. And in many ways the animal
method of doing things was more efficient and saved labour. Such jobs
as weeding, for instance, could be done with a thoroughness
impossible to human beings. And again, since no animal now stole, it
was unnecessary to fence off pasture from arable land, which saved a
lot of labour on the upkeep of hedges and gates. Nevertheless, as the
summer wore on, various unforeseen shortages began to make them
selves felt. There was need of paraffin oil, nails, string, dog biscuits,
and iron for the horses shoes, none of which could be produced on the
farm. Later there would also be need for seeds and artificial manures,
besides various tools and, finally, the machinery for the windmill. How
these were to be procured, no one was able to imagine.
One Sunday morning, when the animals assembled to receive
their orders, Napoleon announced that he had decided upon a new
policy. From now onwards Animal Farm would engage in trade with
the neighbouring farms: not, of course, for any commercial purpose,
but simply in order to obtain certain materials which were urgently
necessary. The needs of the windmill must override everything else, he
said. He was therefore making arrangements to sell a stack of hay and
part of the current years wheat crop, and later on, if more money were
needed, it would have to be made up by the sale of eggs, for which
there was always a market in Willingdon. The hens, said Napoleon,
should welcome this sacrifice as their own special contribution towards
the building of the windmill.
Once again the animals were conscious of a vague uneasiness.
Never to have any dealings with human beings, never to engage in
trade, never to make use of money had not these been among the
earliest resolutions passed at that first triumphant Meeting after Jones
was expelled? All the animals remembered passing such resolutions: or
at least they thought that they remembered it. The four young pigs who
had protested when Napoleon abolished the Meetings raised their
voices timidly, but they were promptly silenced by a tremendous
growling from the dogs. Then, as usual, the sheep broke into Four legs
good, two legs bad! and the momentary awkwardness was smoothed
over. Finally Napoleon raised his trotter for silence and announced
that he had already made all the arrangements. There would be no
need for any of the animals to come in contact with human beings,
which would clearly be most undesirable. He intended to take the
whole burden upon his own shoulders. A Mr. Whymper, a solicitor
living in Willingdon, had agreed to act as intermediary between
Animal Farm and the outside world, and would visit the farm every
Monday morning to receive his instructions. Napoleon ended his
speech with his usual cry of Long live Animal Farm! and after the
singing of Beasts of England the animals were dismissed.
Afterwards Squealer made a round of the farm and set the
animals minds at rest. He assured them that the resolution against
engaging in trade and using money had never been passed, or even
suggested. It was pure imagination, probably traceable in the
beginning to lies circulated by Snowball. A few animals still felt faintly
doubtful, but Squealer asked them shrewdly, Are you certain that this
is not something that you have dreamed, comrades? Have you any
record of such a resolution? Is it written down anywhere? And since it
was certainly true that nothing of the kind existed in writing, the
animals were satisfied that they had been mistaken.
Every Monday Mr. Whymper visited the farm as had been
arranged. He was a sly-looking little man with side whiskers, a solicitor
in a very small way of business, but sharp enough to have realised
earlier than anyone else that Animal Farm would need a broker and
that the commissions would be worth having. The animals watched his
coming and going with a kind of dread, and avoided him as much as
possible. Nevertheless, the sight of Napoleon, on all fours, delivering
orders to Whymper, who stood on two legs, roused their pride and
partly reconciled them to the new arrangement. Their relations with
the human race were now not quite the same as they had been before.
The human beings did not hate Animal Farm any less now that it was
prospering; indeed, they hated it more than ever. Every human being
held it as an article of faith that the farm would go bankrupt sooner or
later, and, above all, that the windmill would be a failure. They would
meet in the public-houses and prove to one another by means of
diagrams that the windmill was bound to fall down, or that if it did
stand up, then that it would never work. And yet, against their will,
they had developed a certain respect for the efficiency with which the
animals were managing their own affairs. One symptom of this was
that they had begun to call Animal Farm by its proper name and
ceased to pretend that it was called the Manor Farm. They had also
dropped their championship of Jones, who had given up hope of
getting his farm back and gone to live in another part of the county.
Except through Whymper, there was as yet no contact between Animal
Farm and the outside world, but there were constant rumours that
Napoleon was about to enter into a definite business agreement either
with Mr. Pilkington of Foxwood or with Mr. Frederick of Pinchfield
but never, it was noticed, with both simultaneously.
It was about this time that the pigs suddenly moved into the
farmhouse and took up their residence there. Again the animals
seemed to remember that a resolution against this had been passed in
the early days, and again Squealer was able to convince them that this
was not the case. It was absolutely necessary, he said, that the pigs,
who were the brains of the farm, should have a quiet place to work in.
It was also more suited to the dignity of the Leader (for of late he had
taken to speaking of Napoleon under the title of Leader) to live in a
house than in a mere sty. Nevertheless, some of the animals were
disturbed when they heard that the pigs not only took their meals in
the kitchen and used the drawing-room as a recreation room, but also
slept in the beds. Boxer passed it off as usual with Napoleon is always
right!, but Clover, who thought she remembered a definite ruling
against beds, went to the end of the barn and tried to puzzle out the
Seven Commandments which were inscribed there. Finding herself
unable to read more than individual letters, she fetched Muriel.
Muriel, she said, read me the Fourth Commandment. Does it
not say something about never sleeping in a bed?
With some difficulty Muriel spelt it out.
It says, No animal shall sleep in a bed with sheets, she
announced finally.
Curiously enough, Clover had not remembered that the Fourth
Commandment mentioned sheets; but as it was there on the wall, it
must have done so. And Squealer, who happened to be passing at this
moment, attended by two or three dogs, was able to put the whole
matter in its proper perspective.
You have heard then, comrades, he said, that we pigs now sleep
in the beds of the farmhouse? And why not? You did not suppose,
surely, that there was ever a ruling against beds? A bed merely means a
place to sleep in. A pile of straw in a stall is a bed, properly regarded.
The rule was against sheets, which are a human invention. We have
removed the sheets from the farmhouse beds, and sleep between
blankets. And very comfortable beds they are too! But not more
comfortable than we need, I can tell you, comrades, with all the
brainwork we have to do nowadays. You would not rob us of our
repose, would you, comrades? You would not have us too tired to carry
out our duties? Surely none of you wishes to see Jones back?
The animals reassured him on this point immediately, and no
more was said about the pigs sleeping in the farmhouse beds. And
when, some days afterwards, it was announced that from now on the
pigs would get up an hour later in the mornings than the other
animals, no complaint was made about that either.
By the autumn the animals were tired but happy. They had had a
hard year, and after the sale of part of the hay and corn, the stores of
food for the winter were none too plentiful, but the windmill
compensated for everything. It was almost half built now. After the
harvest there was a stretch of clear dry weather, and the animals toiled
harder than ever, thinking it well worth while to plod to and fro all day
with blocks of stone if by doing so they could raise the walls another
foot. Boxer would even come out at nights and work for an hour or two
on his own by the light of the harvest moon. In their spare moments
the animals would walk round and round the half-finished mill,
admiring the strength and perpendicularity of its walls and marvelling
that they should ever have been able to build anything so imposing.
Only old Benjamin refused to grow enthusiastic about the windmill,
though, as usual, he would utter nothing beyond the cryptic remark
that donkeys live a long time.
November came, with raging south-west winds. Building had to
stop because it was now too wet to mix the cement. Finally there came
a night when the gale was so violent that the farm buildings rocked on
their foundations and several tiles were blown off the roof of the barn.
The hens woke up squawking with terror because they had all dreamed
simultaneously of hearing a gun go off in the distance. In the morning
the animals came out of their stalls to find that the flagstaff had been
blown down and an elm tree at the foot of the orchard had been
plucked up like a radish. They had just noticed this when a cry of
despair broke from every animals throat. A terrible sight had met their
eyes. The windmill was in ruins.
With one accord they dashed down to the spot. Napoleon, who
seldom moved out of a walk, raced ahead of them all. Yes, there it lay,
the fruit of all their struggles, levelled to its foundations, the stones
they had broken and carried so laboriously scattered all around.
Unable at first to speak, they stood gazing mournfully at the litter of
fallen stone. Napoleon paced to and fro in silence, occasionally
snuffing at the ground. His tail had grown rigid and twitched sharply
from side to side, a sign in him of intense mental activity. Suddenly he
halted as though his mind were made up.
Comrades, he said quietly, do you know who is responsible for
this? Do you know the enemy who has come in the night and
overthrown our windmill? SNOWBALL! he suddenly roared in a voice
of thunder. Snowball has done this thing! In sheer malignity, thinking
to set back our plans and avenge himself for his ignominious
expulsion, this traitor has crept here under cover of night and
destroyed our work of nearly a year. Comrades, here and now I
pronounce the death sentence upon Snowball. Animal Hero, Second
Class, and half a bushel of apples to any animal who brings him to
justice. A full bushel to anyone who captures him alive!
The animals were shocked beyond measure to learn that even
Snowball could be guilty of such an action. There was a cry of
indignation, and everyone began thinking out ways of catching
Snowball if he should ever come back. Almost immediately the
footprints of a pig were discovered in the grass at a little distance from
the knoll. They could only be traced for a few yards, but appeared to
lead to a hole in the hedge. Napoleon snuffed deeply at them and
pronounced them to be Snowballs. He gave it as his opinion that
Snowball had probably come from the direction of Foxwood Farm.
No more delays, comrades! cried Napoleon when the footprints
had been examined. There is work to be done. This very morning we
begin rebuilding the windmill, and we will build all through the winter,
rain or shine. We will teach this miserable traitor that he cannot undo
our work so easily. Remember, comrades, there must be no alteration
in our plans: they shall be carried out to the day. Forward, comrades!
Long live the windmill! Long live Animal Farm!. De tekst moet geschreven zijn op het niveau van de Middelbare school. De tekst moet geschreven zijn in de Engelse taal. De tekst moet in onbeperkt aantal woorden geschreven zijn. De stijl van de tekst moet zijn: informeel.

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