Hey there, and welcome back to Animal Farm: The Novelization. This is probably the longest chapter in this story so far, but who knows? There could be a longer chapter on the horizon.

This is when the relative good will be gone and the bad will begin, as all who have read the book and seen the movies already know. Sadly, I also don't know what else to talk about in this beginning note for this chapter.

Uploading Date: October 23, 2021

Enjoy!


Chapter 7: Napoleon's Victory

On one winter afternoon, Sam was out feeling the cold wind ruffle his fur. This day wasn't so cold for animals to be out in, and it wasn't snowing at this moment. For now, they could enjoy this brief break before the bad weather would move in. Not far away, he saw Mollie prancing by herself, looking out to the fields beyond Animal Farm.

Another horse was coming up to them, and Sam perked up, interested. It was Clover, a mare on a mission, and she was striding over towards Mollie.

"Mollie," Clover was saying as she got to the younger mare. "We need to talk."

"Sure," said Mollie, and she swished her tail happily. "What's it about?"

Clover took a deep breath and began. "This morning, I saw you looking over the hedge between Animal Farm and Foxwood. One of Pilkington's men was on the other side of the hedge. And while I was too far away to tell, I was sure that he was talking to you, and you let him stroke your nose." Her eyes seemed to grow dark as she said the last line. "What does that mean?"

When Clover was finished, Mollie now looked as if she was caught stealing food. "He didn't!" she cried, prancing around and pawing the ground. "I wasn't! It isn't true!"

"Mollie!" Clover exclaimed before her face took a more gentle yet no less serious face. "Look me in the face. Do you give me your word of honor that that man was not stroking your nose?"

"I just told you, it isn't true!" repeated Mollie, but she could not look Clover in the face. The next thing they knew, she was galloping away before the older mare could say anything else.

Sam got up from his spot beside the nearest tree stump. He padded up to stand Clover, watching her go. Admittedly, he had also noticed Mollie's attitude through these few months. She had often been late for work and made some excuses like oversleeping or having a pebble in her hoof. She had also complained about stomach bugs, but her appetite was just as good as ever.

Two rumors were going around the farm. The first had Mollie skipping work just to go down to the watering hole and foolishly looking down at her reflection in the water. But the second rumor was taken more seriously. With a concerned snort as if realizing if this rumor was true, Clover started back to the farm with Sam on her heels.

Together, they arrived at Mollie's stall in the barn and pushed the gate open. There in the hay were several lumps of sugar and blue ribbons.

"Oh, Mollie..." Clover murmured with pity. "Oh, you foolish young horse."

"Maybe she just wants to return to humans," replied Sam. "There's no shame in that, right?"

Clover pawed at the ribbons until she could pick them up in her teeth. "She doesn't need the humans anymore, Sam," she said firmly. "This is to help her. We need to take these ribbons and sugar out and get them burned."

A few days after the ribbons were burned, Mollie had disappeared from Animal Farm. No one knew at first what had happened to her. But it was one day when pigeons came to the farm that they finally found out.

"We found Mollie!" exclaimed the head of the pigeons, landing on the platform before Snowball. "She's on the other side of Willington!"

"What on earth is that foolish young mare doing there?" asked Benjamin.

"Pulling a cart," said the head pigeon, which caused gasps to come from the animals. "A man who looks like a publican has decorated her mane with ribbons, and he was feeding her sugar. It looked like she was enjoying herself."

Napoleon had a furious scowl on his snout. "The humans have brainwashed Mollie," he growled.

"I don't think so," Clover spoke up. "After I had talked with her three weeks ago, Sam and I found several items in the stall where she slept. There were several lumps of sugar and ribbons of different colors. She really seemed to miss being with humans."

Then Napoleon turned to the animals. "No animal is to mention Mollie ever again. An animal that does not contribute to Animal Farm and his or her comrades is surely one to be with humans. Any animal that aligns itself with humans will not be considered one of us."

"What about those who used to have an owner?" asked Elijah. "Or lived at a circus or a zoo?"

"Of course, those who did have humans but are willing to work towards the end of the human race are welcome," said Snowball. "But no animal on Animal Farm must have anything to do with humans. To be friends with one is considered treason. This is why for once, I must agree with Napoleon: Mollie must never be remembered or mentioned for as long as this farm stands."

The animals were talking amongst themselves at this. Most of them agreed to never mention Mollie again, for no traitor deserved to be remembered. A few of them had to admit, Mollie didn't do much to be remembered in any way, good or bad.

...

A harsh winter fell upon Animal Farm. The earth had become too hard and iron-like to do any plowing. Snow fell over the fields and woods across the countryside, burying the landscape in white. The animals had to hold meetings in the barn because of the freezing weather, and the pigs kept themselves occupied by planning out work for when spring came. And being the smartest animals on the farm, they had cemented themselves as the leaders and made all decisions about farm policy.

But things would have run smoother if Snowball and Napoleon hadn't kept getting into arguments. These two pigs never seemed to agree with anything; for example, if one suggested sowing oats, the other would suggest barley. If one suggested using the horses to carry loads of crops, the other would suggest using the cows instead. There was also the discussion of defending the farm, for other farms had heard of the Battle of the Cowshed and were starting to become rebellious as well; as usual, though, Snowball and Napoleon argued over it. Napoleon had already gotten support from the sheep, who had taken to bleating "Four legs good, two legs bad" during Snowball's lectures.

Then one day, Snowball decided to build a windmill. He had been in the long pasture, not far from the farm buildings, standing on the small hill that all the animals stood on the first morning of Animal Farm. After surveying the ground, Snowball had said, he decided that this was just the place for an electricity-producing windmill. This would light the stalls and warm them in winter; it would also run a circular saw, a chaff-cutter, a mangel-slicer, and a milking machine. Because Animal Farm was an old-fashioned farm and had simple machinery, the animals had never heard of anything like this, so they listened in awe while Snowball created visions of fantastic machines that would work for them.

But of course, he and Napoleon argued over the windmill as well.

"Comrades," Napoleon said one day during a debate, "don't listen to Snowball! Surely you can see that his windmill idea is nonsense! It will be a waste of our time and labor!"

"It won't be a waste," said Snowball. "Yes, it will require lots of work, and yes, we may have to eat less to make it happen. But once we build this windmill, it will ease our labor, and we will have to work only three days a week. On the other four days, you can all graze in comfort or improve your mind by reading or conversation. Focus on that!"

"What we should be focusing on is getting food for ourselves, obtaining firearms, and learning to use them!" snapped Napoleon. "Jones might come back and get himself reinstated if we don't defend ourselves. If we waste any more time on your windmill, we will starve and be conquered by our enemies."

"Then we can send more pigeons to stir up rebellion everywhere," responded Snowball. "If we did that, then we could focus on the windmill and do not need to keep looking over our shoulders."

Many animals had taken to voting for these two factions; one side went with "Vote for Snowball and the three-day week", while the other side went with "Vote for Napoleon and the full manger". But they never seemed to make up their mind about who to support or how to think for themselves. They simply sided with whoever was talking at the moment.

Benjamin, however, was one of the few animals to not take sides. He had refused to believe that either food would be plentiful or that the windmill would save work. Sam had even heard him say as thus one day while he and Boxer lay in the stall.

"I don't see what is wrong with wanting a windmill," Boxer tried to reason while he nibbled on straw. "It can work. All we have to do is work harder."

"Mark my words, old friend, it won't change a thing," Benjamin replied, showing a polite side usually for Boxer. "Windmill or no windmill, life will go on as it usually does. That is, badly."

Within a few weeks, Snowball had fully worked out his windmill plans. The construction details came from three books that had belonged to Mr. Jones - books about housework, brick-laying, and electricity - and he used an incubator shed as his office; luckily for him, the shed had a smooth wooden floor, suitable for drawing on. He stayed there for hours, holding the books held open by a stone and with a piece of chalk gripped between the knuckles of his trotter, drawing and uttering little excited whimpers. These plans soon grew into a complex mass of cogs and cranks, covering more than half the floor, which the other animals couldn't understand but found amazing. They came to look at Snowball's drawings at least once a day, and even the hens and ducks made great care to not step on the chalk marks.

"Come on, come all to my plans for the windmill," Snowball would greet them, beaming with pride. "Feast your eyes on the plan that will solve our labor."

Napoleon was the only animal to be completely against the windmill. One day, however, Sam did notice him going into the shed and making commenting grunts while he scanned the plans. A bleat from far away made Sam turn towards the noise briefly, but when he turned back, Napoleon was already marching out of the shed. He gave Sam a deep look and a snort, but he marched away without a word.

And when Sam approached the plans, the scent of pig pee was strong on the floor that the plans were drawn on. Something big was going to happen, but Sam couldn't put his paw on what would happen or how it would.

...

Finally, the day of the official announcement for the windmill had come. At the meeting on a Sunday in early February, the animals had gathered in the barn. Snowball stood up and gave his thoughts and reasons for advocating building the windmill, though he was occasionally interrupted by the sheep's bleating.

"Comrades," Snowball went on, patting the blueprints on the wall. "Here is my complete plan for the windmill. All it needs now is your vote. This will require a lot of hard work. And yes, we'll have to eat less than we usually do. But think of the rewards for that. Electricity, for starters, and not to mention a warm barn every winter. Think of that, comrades. With your vote, Animal Farm will become the freest farm in the world!"

That was when Napoleon came in, snorting and casting Snowball a very ugly look. "Dreams, dreams," he grumbled. "It's all a lie."

All the animals spun around to face him. "What do you mean by that?" asked a goose.

"What I meant is that Snowball's ideas for a windmill are nonsense," Napoleon explained. "Nobody should vote for it, and Snowball would do well to keep quiet."

At this, he promptly sat down. He seemed indifferent to how his words had affected the animals. But once he had sitten down, the sheep began bleating "Four legs good, two legs bad" for perhaps the hundredth time this day. Some of the animals remarked that Napoleon didn't put up much of an argument, but since the sheep were already chanting, they knew that he hadn't needed to.

"It CAN work!" Snowball yelled, shouting down the sheep. "Think, comrades, think! Think more of what a windmill would do for all of us!"

"They don't need to think," snapped Napoleon. "I'm warning you, Snowball. You need to shut up."

Snowball gave Napoleon an equally ugly look. "No, I will not shut up," he retorted before turning back to the crowd. "The labors would be lifted off of our shoulders! Would we need chaff-cutters and turnip-slicers anymore? The electricity generated by the windmill can operate threshing machines, plows, harrows, rollers, reapers, and binders! Adding to that will be every stall having its own electric light, hot and cold water, and an electric heater! A vote for the windmill is a vote for a more beautiful life!"

By the time Snowball had finished speaking, the animals were now rooting for the windmill. There was no doubt as to who the vote was going to go for. Except for Napoleon, only Benjamin didn't cheer in, neither being for nor against the windmill.

"Very well," said Napoleon with all the venom he could muster in his voice. "If that's the game you want to play, Snowball, on your head be it."

With that said, Napoleon took a deep breath and let out a high-pitched squeal that no one had ever heard him use before.

Suddenly, wild barking sounded outside, and nine large dogs were bounding into the barn; they were led by Pinscher. They wore fur of varying colors ranging from black to brown to tan and even some splashes of white; studded collars were fitted around their necks. They lunged right for Snowball, who squealed and sprang up from his spot just in time to avoid the snapping teeth and quickly ran out of the barn.

"Are those...?" Bluebell gasped, sitting beside Jessie and Sam. "It can't be our puppies...can they?"

"They are, Bluebell," answered Jessie, shock and sorrow in her voice. "They are."

Snowball was now speeding across the field that led to the road. He ran as fast as any pig could run, but the dogs were faster and hot on his heels. At one point, Snowball slid over the snow, and it looked like the dogs would pounce on him. But he picked himself up and kept running faster, and the dogs were catching up again. One dog nearly clamped its jaws down onto Snowball's tail, but the Landrace whisked it free just in time. Then he put on an extra burst of speed and slipped through a hole in the hedges just before the dogs could catch him. He had gotten away and wasn't seen again.

Quiet but scared, the animals crept back into the barn. After they did, the ten dogs had loped back into the barn, reporting to Napoleon about their success. Sam noticed that these dogs wagged their tails for Napoleon just as some of the dogs had once wagged their tails for Mr. Jones. Said pig then marched over to the loft where Old Major had been during his speech that night, Squealer and Pinscher joining him.

"Comrades!" Napoleon cried out with a fierce squeal. "Snowball has failed to live up to what is best for Animal Farm. So it is with pride for Animalism in my heart that a new chapter in the history of the farm can begin, with me as its author. Our first order of business: From now on, there will be no Sunday meetings."

That caused a shocked uproar to sweep through the animals. Clover was the first to demand, "Why? What harm can these meetings do?"

"They're unnecessary," replied Napoleon, "and they waste time. So from now on, I will protect your best interests, and I will make your decisions for you."

Sam's fur bristled when he heard this. What kind of being would do that, making someone's decisions for another and not letting them choose? Indeed, some of the animals began to protest, only to be answered by Napoleon's dogs barking at them.

"I'm not finished." With those three words from Napoleon, the animals quieted down some. "You will still assemble here on Sundays for the orders of the week. But there will be no more debates. In the future, all questions relating to works on the farm will be settled by a committee of pigs, headed by myself."

"And a very good arrangement too!" added Squealer. "Think of all the brain work that will save you, comrades. You won't need to think for yourselves anymore."

Boxer shook his mane and pawed at the straw beneath his large hooves. While he wasn't the smartest animal on the farm, he did look troubled over what was just said. But four young porkers beside him weren't as quiet about their disagreement.

"Comrade Napoleon, I protest!" one pig demanded, standing up.

This evoked a growl from one of the dogs and a smirk from Napoleon. "You protest, you say?" he asked, noticing the pig looking scared from the dog growling. "Go on. Protest some more."

"This is very undemocratic. What harm can debates do?" More dogs growled, and the lead porker was starting to lose his nerve. "At least, this is somewhat undemocratic, that is to say, but..." Some more growling later, and the porker finally lost all nerve. "No. Banning debates is very democratic. But if we may say - "

"It's democratic! You heard the porkers say so!" Napoleon cried as he cut off their protest. "Our revolution continues. And all of our actions will be looked upon by the founder of our beliefs. Everyone follow me outside," he added. "I have something to show you."

So the animals followed him out into the farmyard, to the barn where the Seven Commandments were written. The green hoof-and-horn flag was hoisted on its pole as usual, but there was a white sheet resting over something. Once the animals' eyes were on the new object, Napoleon trotted over to lift the sheet and reveal the object. Sam felt bile rise into the back of his throat when he saw what was under the flag.

It was the skull of Old Major.

Yes, it was the old boar's skull - clean of flesh and with several teeth missing, flies buzzing around it. It must have been dug up from the orchard and set up on a stump at the foot of the flagstaff, beside the gun. Next to Sam, the sheep bleated in fright and stepped away.

"Only criminals would be afraid of Old Major's presence!" growled Napoleon. "Are you afraid of Old Major?"

At this, the sheep came back forward. That was when Napoleon gave the orders of the week to the animals and promptly ended the meeting with a round of "Beasts of England".

After the meeting, Squealer was sent round the farm to explain the new arrangement to the others.

"Comrades, I hope everyone understands the sacrifice that Comrade Napoleon has made in taking over," he said. "But leadership isn't as easygoing as they say it is. Leadership is a deep and heavy responsibility. Out of all animals, Comrade Napoleon is the most firm in believing that all animals are equal. He would even gladly let you make your own decisions. But comrades, what if you make the wrong decisions? Where would we be, eh? One of those wrong decisions would be following Snowball and his moonshine of windmills. You would be following a traitor and a criminal to your graves!"

"But Snowball fought bravely at the Battle of the Cowshed," said Sam. "You can't deny that."

"Bravery is not enough," replied Squealer, waving him off with a dismissive trotter. "Loyalty and obedience are more important than bravery. As for the Battle of the Cowshed, you will soon discover that Snowball's part in it was exaggerated and even falsified. The word of the day, comrades, is discipline. If we make one false step, our enemies would wipe us out. Surely, comrades," he concluded as he skipped from side to side, "surely none of you wants to see Jones come back?"

The animals shook their heads. They certainly did not want Jones to come back, so most of them decided that if debates brought Jones back, then they had to stop. Sam, however, wasn't keen on letting debates disappear and opened his mouth to speak, until one of the sheep beside him bleated, "Four legs good, two legs bad!"

Boxer, who had time to think it all over, nodded and voiced his thoughts on the matter. "If Comrade Napoleon says it, it must be right." It was also from that day on forward, Boxer would put in a new maxim alongside his wish to work harder: "Napoleon is always right."

...

So that was what life on the farm had become. Every Sunday morning, the animals gathered in the barn to receive their orders for the week. The flag would be raised, and the animals had to march past Old Major's skull in respect before entering the barn. They didn't sit together anymore, standing and facing the pigs in the main body of the barn with spots chosen for them. Napoleon, Squealer, and a poetic pig named Minimus sat together on the front of the raised platform; they were surrounded in a semi-circle by Napoleon's nine dogs, while the rest of the pigs sat behind the dogs. Then Napoleon would read out the week's orders, and they would sing "Beasts of England" one time before being dismissed.

Three weeks after Snowball's exile, it was announced that the windmill would be built after all. All of the animals couldn't help but feel surprised. Hadn't Napoleon been against the windmill?

But Squealer set forth later in the evening to set the animals straight. "You have heard, comrades," he said, "that the windmill is to be built after all, even after Comrade Napoleon had argued against Snowball about it. The truth is, he was never against the windmill. On the contrary, it was Comrade Napoleon's idea all along to build the windmill. For you see, the plan which Snowball had written on the floor of the shed has been stolen from among Napoleon's papers."

"Then why did he speak so firmly against it?" asked Muriel.

Here, Squealer looked very sly. "Ah", he said with a smirk, "now that's a good question, Comrade Muriel. That there is Comrade Napoleon's cunning. He had seemed to oppose the windmill, simply as a way to oust Snowball for the traitor that he was and chase him out. Now that Snowball is out of the way, the plan can proceed as planned. What he had employed are tactics. Tactics, comrades!" he cried out, skipping from side to side. "Tactics! That is the word for today."

The animals exchanged glances, most not sure what the word meant. But Squealer spoke so persuasively - that, and the sheep broke into a round of "Four legs good, two legs bad!" - that the animals dropped the argument.

To be continued...