Pigs get milk and apples

Shortly after the Rebellion, the animals noticed that the milk produced each day was no longer shared. It was mixed into the pigs' mash. Then an order went forth that all windfall apples were to be collected and brought to the harness-room for the pigs. Some animals murmured, but the pigs unanimously supported this, even Snowball and Napoleon. Squealer was sent to explain. He declared that the pigs were not acting from selfishness; many of them, he claimed, actually disliked milk and apples. Their sole object was to preserve their health, because milk and apples contained substances absolutely necessary to the well-being of a pig. The pigs were brainworkers upon whom the whole organisation of the farm depended. If the pigs failed in their duty, Jones would come back. The animals, who dreaded Jones's return above all, accepted the explanation and agreed that the milk and windfall apples—and later the main crop of apples—should be reserved for the pigs alone.

By late February of the following year, a warm, appetising scent wafted from the disused brew-house, which had been idle since Jones's time. The animals sniffed the air, hoping for a warm mash. Instead, on the following Sunday, it was announced that all barley would henceforth be reserved for the pigs. The field beyond the orchard had already been sown with barley. Soon it leaked out that every pig was receiving a daily ration of a pint of beer, with half a gallon for Napoleon himself, served in the Crown Derby soup tureen.

These privileges directly contradicted the principles Old Major had laid down. In his speech, Major had forbidden alcohol, tobacco, money, trade, and the wearing of clothes, and had insisted that no animal should tyrannise over others. But the pigs had long since taken control of the farm's ideology. During the secret meetings before the Rebellion, Snowball, Napoleon, and Squealer had elaborated Major's teachings into a system called Animalism, which they expounded to the other animals. After the Rebellion, the pigs taught themselves to read and write from an old spelling book, and Snowball reduced the Seven Commandments to a single maxim—'Four legs good, two legs bad'—which the sheep could be made to chant at critical moments. When the animals later questioned the pigs' sleeping in beds, the Fourth Commandment was found to read 'No animal shall sleep in a bed with sheets,' and when the pigs drank alcohol, the Fifth Commandment became 'No animal shall drink alcohol to excess.' The pigs' monopoly on literacy and their control of the farm's ideology made any challenge to their privileges nearly impossible.

Ultimately, the pigs' transformation was complete. One evening, the animals saw Squealer walking across the yard on his hind legs, awkwardly but with perfect balance. Then a long file of pigs followed, all walking upright. Finally Napoleon emerged, majestically upright, with a whip in his trotter and his dogs gambolling around him. The sheep immediately burst out with a new slogan: 'Four legs good, two legs better!' Later, when neighbouring farmers were entertained at the farmhouse, the animals peered through the window and saw the pigs and men playing cards and drinking together. Quarrels broke out, and twelve voices shouted in anger—but the animals could no longer tell which were pigs and which were men. The pigs had become indistinguishable from the humans they had overthrown.

Throughout this period, the material conditions of the other animals steadily deteriorated. Old Major had once described their lives as miserable, laborious, and short, and the Rebellion had promised to change that. In the first flush of victory, the animals had destroyed the whips, bits, and knives that symbolised Jones's tyranny. For a time they worked happily, believing their labour was for themselves. But as the years passed, the pigs and dogs grew fat while the rest toiled on short rations. The farm became more prosperous—it acquired new fields, a threshing machine, and a hay elevator—but the extra wealth did not reach the common animals. Squealer read out statistics proving that food production had increased by hundreds of per cent, yet the animals were often hungry. They worked longer hours than ever, and the annual rations were repeatedly reduced. The pigs and dogs, meanwhile, had plenty. The farm had grown richer without making the animals themselves any richer—except, of course, for the pigs and the dogs.