MR. JONES, of the Manor Farm, had locked the hen-houses for the
night, but was too drunk to remember to shut the popholes. With the
ring of light from his lantern dancing from side to side, he lurched
across the yard, kicked off his boots at the back door, drew himself a
last glass of beer from the barrel in the scullery, and made his way up to
bed, where Mrs. Jones was already snoring.
As soon as the light in the bedroom went out there was a stirring and a
fluttering all through the farm buildings. Word had gone round during
the day that old Major, the prize Middle White boar, had had a strange
dream on the previous night and wished to communicate it to the other
animals. It had been agreed that they should all meet in the big barn as
soon as Mr. Jones was safely out of the way. Old Major (so he was
always called, though the name under which he had been exhibited was
Willingdon Beauty) was so highly regarded on the farm that everyone
was quite ready to lose an hour’s sleep in order to hear what he had to
say.
At one end of the big barn, on a sort of raised platform, Major was
already ensconced on his bed of straw, under a lantern which hung from
a beam. He was twelve years old and had lately grown rather stout, but
he was still a majestic-looking pig, with a wise and benevolent
appearance in spite of the fact that his tushes had never been cut.
Before long the other animals began to arrive and make themselves
comfortable after their different fashions. First came the three dogs,
Bluebell, Jessie, and Pincher, and then the pigs, who settled down in the
straw immediately in front of the platform. The hens perched
themselves 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, walking
very slowly and setting down their vast hairy hoofs with great care lest
there should be some small animal concealed in the straw. Clover was a
stout motherly mare approaching middle life, who had never quite got
her figure back after her fourth foal. Boxer was an enormous beast,
nearly eighteen hands high, and as strong as any two ordinary horses
put together. A white stripe down his nose gave him a somewhat stupid
appearance, and in fact he was not of first-rate intelligence, but he was
universally respected for his steadiness of character and tremendous
powers of work. After the horses came Muriel, the white goat, and
Benjamin, the donkey. Benjamin was the oldest animal on the farm,
and the worst tempered. He seldom talked, and when he did, it was
usually to make some cynical remark-for instance, he would say that
God had given him a tail to keep the flies off, but that he would sooner
have had no tail and no flies. Alone among the animals on the farm he
never laughed. If asked why, he would say that he saw nothing to laugh
at. Nevertheless, without openly admitting it, he was devoted to Boxer;
the two of them usually spent their Sundays together in the small
paddock beyond the orchard, grazing side by side and never speaking.
The two horses had just lain down when a brood of ducklings, which
had lost their mother, filed into the barn, cheeping feebly and
wandering from side to side to find some place where they would not
be trodden on. Clover made a sort of wall round them with her great
foreleg, and the ducklings nestled down inside it and promptly fell
asleep. At the last moment Mollie, the foolish, pretty white mare who
drew Mr. Jones’s trap, came mincing daintily in, chewing at a lump of
sugar. She took a place near the front and began flirting her white
mane, hoping to draw attention to the red ribbons it was plaited with.
Last of all came the cat, who looked round, as usual, for the warmest
place, and finally squeezed herself in between Boxer and Clover; there
she purred contentedly throughout Major’s speech without listening to a
word of what he was saying.
All the animals were now present except Moses, the tame raven, who
slept on a perch behind the back door. When Major saw that they had
all made themselves comfortable and were waiting attentively, he
cleared his throat and began:
“Comrades, you have heard already about the strange dream that I had
last night. But I will come to the dream later. I have something else to
say first. I do not think, comrades, that I shall be with you for many

months longer, and before I die, I feel it my duty to pass on to you such
wisdom as I have acquired. I have had a long life, I have had much time
for thought as I lay alone in my stall, and I think I may say that I
understand the nature of life on this earth as well as any animal now
living. It is about this that I wish to speak to you.
“Now, comrades, what is the nature of this life of ours? Let us face it:
our lives are miserable, laborious, and short. We are born, we are given
just so much food as will keep the breath in our bodies, and those of us
who are capable of it are forced to work to the last atom of our strength;
and the very instant that our usefulness has come to an end we are
slaughtered with hideous cruelty. No animal in England knows the
meaning of happiness or leisure after he is a year old. No animal in
England is free. The life of an animal is misery and slavery: that is the
plain truth.
“But is this simply part of the order of nature? Is it because this land of
ours is so poor that it cannot afford 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 is capable of affording food in abundance
to an enormously greater number of animals than now inhabit it. This
single farm of ours would support a dozen horses, twenty cows,
hundreds of sheep-and all of them living in a comfort and a dignity that
are now almost beyond our imagining. Why then do we continue in this
miserable condition? Because nearly the whole of the produce of our
labour is stolen from us by human beings. There, comrades, is the
answer to all our problems. It is summed up in a single word-Man. Man
is the only real enemy we have. Remove Man from the scene, and the
root cause of hunger and overwork is abolished for ever.
“Man is the only creature that consumes without producing. He does
not give milk, he does not lay eggs, he is too weak to pull the plough,
he cannot run fast enough to catch rabbits. Yet he is lord of all the
animals. He sets them to work, he gives back to them the bare
minimum that will prevent them from starving, and the rest he keeps
for himself. Our labour tills the soil, our dung fertilises it, and yet there
is not one of us that owns more than his bare skin. You cows that I see
before me, how many thousands of gallons of milk have you given
during this last year? And what has happened to that milk which should
have been breeding up sturdy calves? Every drop of it has gone down
the throats of our enemies. And you hens, how many eggs have you laid
in this last year, and how many of those eggs ever hatched into

chickens? The rest have all gone to market to bring in money for Jones
and his men. And you, Clover, where are those four foals you bore,
who should have been the support and pleasure of your old age? Each
was sold at a year old-you will never see one of them again. In return
for your four confinements and all your labour in the fields, what have
you ever had except your bare rations and a stall?
“And even the miserable lives we lead are not allowed to reach their
natural span. For myself I do not grumble, for I am one of the lucky
ones. I am twelve years old and have had over four hundred children.
Such is the natural life of a pig. But no animal escapes the cruel knife in
the end. You young porkers who are sitting in front of me, every one of
you will scream your lives out at the block within a year. To that horror
we all must come-cows, pigs, hens, sheep, everyone. Even the horses
and the dogs have no better fate. You, Boxer, the very day that those
great muscles of yours lose their power, Jones will sell you to the
knacker, who will cut your throat and boil you down for the foxhounds.
As for the dogs, when they grow old and toothless, Jones ties a brick
round their necks and drowns them in the nearest pond.
“Is it not crystal clear, then, comrades, that all the evils of this life of
ours spring from the tyranny of human beings? Only get rid of Man,
and the produce of our labour would be our own. A1most overnight we
could become rich and free. What then must we do? Why, work night
and day, body and soul, for the overthrow of the human race! That is
my message to you, comrades: Rebellion! I do not know when that
Rebellion will come, it might be in a week or in a hundred years, but I
know, as surely as I see this straw beneath my feet, that sooner or later
justice will be done. Fix your eyes on that, comrades, throughout the
short remainder of your lives! And above all, pass on this message of
mine to those who come after you, so that future generations shall carry
on the struggle until it is victorious.
“And remember, comrades, your resolution must never falter. No
argument must lead you astray. Never listen when they tell you that
Man and the animals have a common interest, that the prosperity of the
one is the prosperity of the others. It is all lies. Man serves the interests
of no creature except himself. And among us animals let there be
perfect unity, perfect comradeship in the struggle. All men are enemies.
All animals are comrades.”
At this moment there was a tremendous uproar. While Major was

speaking four large rats had crept out of their holes and were sitting on
their hindquarters, listening to him. The dogs had suddenly caught sight
of them, and it was only by a swift dash for their holes that the rats
saved their lives. Major raised his trotter for silence.
“Comrades,” he said, “here is a point that must be settled. The wild
creatures, such as rats and rabbits-are they our friends or our enemies?
Let us put it to the vote. I propose this question to the meeting: Are rats
comrades?”
The vote was taken at once, and it was agreed by an overwhelming
majority that rats were comrades. There were only four dissentients, the
three dogs and the cat, who was afterwards discovered to have voted on
both sides. Major continued:
“I have little more to say. I merely repeat, remember always your duty
of enmity towards Man and all his ways. Whatever goes upon two legs
is an enemy. Whatever goes upon four legs, or has wings, is a friend.
And remember also that in fighting against Man, we must not come to
resemble him. Even when you have conquered him, do not adopt his
vices. No animal must ever 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 over his own kind. Weak or strong, clever or simple, we
are all brothers. No animal must ever kill any other animal. All animals
are equal.
“And now, comrades, I will tell you about my dream of last night. I
cannot describe that dream to you. It was a dream of the earth as it will
be when Man has vanished. But it reminded me of something that I had
long forgotten. Many years ago, when I was a little pig, my mother and
the other sows used to sing an old song of which they knew only the
tune and the first three words. I had known that tune in my infancy, but
it had long since passed out of my mind. Last night, however, it came
back to me in my dream. And what is more, the words of the song also
came back-words, I am certain, which were sung by the animals of long
ago and have been lost to memory for generations. I will sing you that
song now, comrades. I am old and my voice is hoarse, but when I have
taught you the tune, you can sing it better for yourselves. It is called
Beasts of England.”
Old Major cleared his throat and began to sing. As he had said, his
voice was hoarse, but he sang well enough, and it was a stirring tune,

something between Clementine and La Cucaracha. The words ran:
Beasts of England, beasts of Ireland,
Beasts of every land and clime,
Hearken to my joyful tidings
Of the golden future time.
Soon or late the day is coming,
Tyrant Man shall be o’erthrown,
And the fruitful fields of England
Shall be trod by beasts alone.
Rings shall vanish from our noses,
And the harness from our back,
Bit and spur shall rust forever,
Cruel whips no more shall crack.
Riches more than mind can picture,
Wheat and barley, oats and hay,
Clover, beans, and mangel-wurzels
Shall be ours upon that day.
Bright will shine the fields of England,
Purer shall its waters be,
Sweeter yet shall blow its breezes
On the day that sets us free.
For that day we all must labour,

Though we die before it break;
Cows and horses, geese and turkeys,
All must toil for freedom’s sake.
Beasts of England, beasts of Ireland,
Beasts of every land and clime,
Hearken well and spread my tidings
Of the golden future time.
The singing of this song threw the animals into the wildest excitement.
Almost before Major had reached the end, they had begun singing it for
themselves. Even the stupidest of them had already picked up the tune
and a few of the words, and as for the clever ones, such as the pigs and
dogs, they had the entire song by heart within a few minutes. And then,
after a few preliminary tries, the whole farm burst out into Beasts of
England in tremendous unison. The cows lowed it, the dogs whined it,
the sheep bleated it, the horses whinnied it, the ducks quacked it. They
were so delighted with the song that they sang it right through five
times in succession, and might have continued singing it all night if
they had not been interrupted.
Unfortunately, the uproar awoke Mr. Jones, who sprang out of bed,
making sure that there was a fox in the yard. He seized the gun which
always stood in a corner of his bedroom, and let fly a charge of number
6 shot into the darkness. The pellets buried themselves in the wall of
the barn and the meeting broke up hurriedly. Everyone fled to his own
sleeping-place. The birds jumped on to their perches, the animals
settled down in the straw, and the whole farm was asleep in a moment.

In Chapter 1 of “Animal Farm,” written by George Orwell, several conflicts arise that set the stage for the story’s development. These conflicts revolve around the oppressive rule of Mr. Jones, the human farmer, and the animals’ desire for freedom and equality.

One of the main conflicts in Chapter 1 is between the animals and Mr. Jones, their neglectful and oppressive human owner. Mr. Jones represents the human oppressors who exploit the animals for their labor and deny them basic rights and dignity. He fails to properly care for the animals, leaving them vulnerable to predators and neglecting their needs. This conflict highlights the animals’ struggle against human tyranny and their desire to break free from oppression.

Another conflict arises within the animal community itself, as different species grapple with their relationships and allegiances. Old Major, the wise and respected boar, urges the animals to unite against their common enemy: humans. He calls for solidarity among all creatures with four legs or wings, emphasizing the importance of overcoming divisions and working together towards liberation. However, not all animals fully embrace this message, as evidenced by the dissenting votes of some dogs and a cat during Old Major’s speech. This internal conflict reflects the challenges of achieving unity and cooperation among diverse groups with different interests and perspectives.

Furthermore, there is a conflict between the animals’ aspirations for freedom and the harsh realities of their current existence. Despite Old Major’s inspiring vision of a utopian future where animals live without human oppression, the animals still face immediate challenges and dangers under Mr. Jones’s rule. Their desire for freedom clashes with the fear of retaliation and uncertainty about how to achieve their goals. This conflict underscores the complexities of pursuing liberation in the face of adversity and the sacrifices that may be required along the way.

Overall, Chapter 1 of “Animal Farm” introduces several conflicts that drive the narrative forward and shape the characters’ actions and decisions. These conflicts highlight the themes of oppression, unity, and resistance that are central to the story’s exploration of power and injustice. As the animals grapple with their desire for freedom and equality, they must confront internal and external obstacles that test their resolve and determination to create a better future for themselves.