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American Eloquence, Volume I. (of 4) by Various

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AMERICAN ELOQUENCE

STUDIES IN AMERICAN POLITICAL HISTORY


Edited with Introduction by Alexander Johnston

Reedited by James Albert Woodburn


Volume I (of 4)




CONTENTS.


PREFACE

INTRODUCTORY



I--COLONIALISM.


THE FORMATION OF THE CONSTITUTION

JAMES OTIS

PATRICK HENRY

SAMUEL ADAMS

ALEXANDER HAMILTON

JAMES MADISON



II--CONSTITUTIONAL GOVERNMENT.

ALBERT GALLATIN

FISHER AMES

JOHN NICHOLAS



III.-THE RISE OF DEMOCRACY.

THOMAS JEFFERSON

JOHN RANDOLPH

JOSIAH QUINCY

HENRY CLAY



IV.--THE RISE OF NATIONALITY.

ROBERT Y. HAYNE

DANIEL WEBSTER

JOHN C. CALHOUN

THOMAS H. BENTON





LIST OF PORTRAITS.

VOL. I.

ALEXANDER HAMILTON -- Frontispiece From a painting by COL. J. TRUMBULL.

PATRICK HENRY From a painting by JAMES B. LONGACRE.

SAMUEL ADAMS From a steel engraving.

JAMES MADISON From a painting by GILBERT STUART.

FISHER AMES From a painting by GILBERT STUART.

THOMAS JEFFERSON From a painting by GILBERT STUART.

JOHN RANDOLPH.




PREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION.

In offering to the public a revised edition of Professor Johnston's
American Eloquence, a brief statement may be permitted of the changes
and additions involved in the revision. In consideration of the favor
with which the compilation of Professor Johnston had been received, and
of its value to all who are interested in the study of American history,
the present editor has deemed it wise to make as few omissions as
possible from the former volumes. The changes have been chiefly in the
way of additions. The omission, from the first volume, of Washington's
Inaugural and President Nott's oration on the death of Hamilton is the
result, not of a depreciation of the value of these, but of a desire to
utilize the space with selections and subjects which are deemed more
directly valuable as studies in American political history. Madison's
speech on the adoption of the Constitution, made before the Virginia
Convention, is substituted for one of Patrick Henry's on the same
occasion. Madison's is a much more valuable discussion of the issues and
principles involved, and, besides, the volume has the advantage of
Henry's eloquence when he was at his best, at the opening of the
American Revolution. In compensation for the omissions there are added
selections, one each from Otis, Samuel Adams, Gallatin, and Benton. The
completed first volume, therefore, offers to the student of American
political history chapters from the life and work of sixteen
representative orators and statesmen of America.

In addition to the changes made in the selections, the editor has added
brief biographical sketches, references, and textual and historical
notes which, it is hoped, will add to the educational value of the
volumes, as well as to the interest and intelligence with which the
casual reader may peruse the speeches.

As a teacher of American history, I have found no more luminous texts on
our political history than the speeches of the great men who have been
able, in their discussions of public questions, to place before us a
contemporary record of the history which they themselves were helping to
make. To the careful student the secondary authorities can never supply
the place of the great productions, the messages and speeches, which
historic occasions have called forth. The earnest historical reader will
approach these orations, not with the design of regarding then merely as
specimens of eloquence or as studies in language, but as indicating the
great subjects and occasions of our political history and the spirit and
motives of the great leaders of that history. The orations lead the
student to a review of the great struggles in which the authors were
engaged, and to new interest in the science of government from the
utterances and permanent productions of master participants in great
political controversies. Certainly, there is no text-book in political
science more valuable than the best productions of great statesmen, as
reflecting the ideas of those who have done most to make political
history.

With these ideas in mind, the editor has added rather extensive
historical notes, with the purpose of suggesting the use of the speeches
as the basis of historical study, and of indicating other similar
sources for investigation. These notes, together with explanations of
any obscurities in the text, and other suggestions for study, will serve
to indicate the educational value of the volumes; and it is hoped that
they may lead many teachers and students to see in these orations a text
suitable as a guide to valuable studies in American political history.

The omissions of parts of the speeches, made necessary by the exigencies
of space, consist chiefly of those portions which were but of temporary
interest and importance, and which would not be found essential to an
understanding of the subject in hand. The omissions, however, have
always been indicated so as not to mislead the reader, and in most
instances the substance of the omissions has been indicated in the
notes.

The general division of the work has been retained: 1. Colonialism, to
1789. Constitutional Government, to 1801. 3. The Rise of Democracy, to
1815. 4. The Rise of Nationality, to 1840. 5. The Slavery Struggle, to
1860. 6. Secession and Civil War, to 1865. The extension of the studies
covering these periods, by the addition of much new material has made
necessary the addition of a fourth volume, which embraces the general
subjects, (1) Reconstruction; (2) Free Trade and Protection; (3)
Finance; (4) Civil-Service Reform. Professor Johnston's valuable
introductions to the several sections have been substantially retained.

By the revision, the volumes will be confined entirely to political
oratory. Literature and religion have, each in its place, called forth
worthy utterances in American oratory. These, certainly, have an
important place in the study of our national life. But it has been
deemed advisable to limit the scope of these volumes to that field of
history which Mr. Freeman has called "past politics,"--to the process by
which Americans, past and present, have built and conducted their state.
The study of the state, its rise, its organization, and its development,
is, after all, the richest field for the student and reader of history.
"History." says Professor Seeley, "may be defined as the biography of
states. To study history thus is to study politics at the same time. If
history is not merely eloquent writing, but a serious scientific
investigation, and if we are to consider that it is not mere
anthropology or sociology, but a science of states, then the study of
history is absolutely the study of politics." It is into this great
field of history that these volumes would direct the reader.

No American scholar had done more, before his untimely death, than the
original editor of these orations, to cultivate among Americans an
intelligent study of our politics and political history. These volumes,
which he designed, are a worthy memorial of his appreciation of the
value to American students of the best specimens of our political
oratory.

J. A. W.




INTRODUCTORY.

All authorities are agreed that the political history of the United
States, beyond much that is feeble or poor in quality, has given to the
English language very many of its most finished and most persuasive
specimens of oratory. It is natural that oratory should be a power in a
republic; but, in the American republic, the force of institutions has
been reinforced by that of a language which is peculiarly adapted to the
display of eloquence. Collections of American orations have been
numerous and useful, but the copiousness of the material has always
proved a source of embarrassment. Where the supply is so abundant, it is
exceedingly difficult to make selections on any exact system, and yet
impossible to include all that has a fair claim to the distinctive stamp
of oratory. The results have been that our collections of public
speeches have proved either unsatisfactory or unreasonably voluminous.

The design which has controlled the present collection has been to make
such selections from the great orations of American history as shall
show most clearly the spirit and motives which have actuated its
leaders, and to connect them by a thread of commentary which shall
convey the practical results of the conflicts of opinion revealed in the
selections. In the execution of such a work much must be allowed for
personal limitations; that which would seem representative to one would
not seem at all representative to others. It will not be difficult to
mark omissions, some of which may seem to mar the completeness of the
work very materially; the only claim advanced is that the work has been
done with a consistent desire to show the best side of all lines of
thought which have seriously modified the course of American history.
Some great names will be missed from the list of orators, and some great
addresses from the list of orations; the apology for their omission is
that they have not seemed to be so closely related to the current of
American history or so operative upon its course as to demand their
insertion. Any errors under this head have occurred in spite of careful
consideration and anxious desire to be scrupulously impartial.

Very many of the orations selected have been condensed by the omission
of portions which had no relevancy to the purpose in hand, or were of
only a temporary interest and importance. Such omissions have been
indicated, so that the reader need not be misled, while the effort has
been made to so manage the omissions as to maintain a complete logical
connection among the parts which have been put to use. A tempting method
of preserving such a connection is, of course, the insertion of words or
sentences which the speaker might have used, though he did not; but such
a method seemed too dangerous and possibly too misleading, and it has
been carefully avoided. None of the selections contain a word of foreign
matter, with the exception of one of Randolph's speeches and Mr.
Beecher's Liverpool speech, where the matter inserted has been taken
from the only available report, and is not likely to mislead the reader.
For very much the same reason, footnotes have been avoided, and the
speakers have been left to speak for themselves.

Such a process of omission will reveal to any one who undertakes it an
underlying characteristic of our later, as distinguished from our
earlier, oratory. The careful elaboration of the parts, the restraint of
each topic treated to its appropriate part, and the systematic
development of the parts into a symmetrical whole, are as markedly
present in the latter as they are absent in the former. The process of
selection has therefore been progressively more difficult as the
subject-matter has approached contemporary times. In our earlier
orations, the distinction and separate treatment of the parts is so
carefully observed that it has been comparatively an easy task to seize
and appropriate the parts especially desirable. In our later orations,
with some exceptions, there is an evidently decreasing attention to
system. The whole is often a collection of _disjecta membra_ of
arguments, so interdependent that omissions of any sort are exceedingly
dangerous to the meaning of the speaker. To do justice to his meaning,
and give the whole oration, would be an impossible strain on the space
available; to omit any portion is usually to lose one or more buttresses
of some essential feature in his argument. The distinction is submitted
without any desire to explain it on theory, but only as a suggestion of
a practical difficulty in a satisfactory execution of the work.

The general division of the work has been into (1) Colonialism, to 1789;
(2) Constitutional Government, to 1801; (5) the Rise of Democracy, to
1815; (4) the Rise of Nationality, to 1840; (5) the Slavery struggle, to
1860; (6) Secession and Reconstruction, to 1876; (7) Free Trade and
Protection. In such a division, it has been found necessary to include,
in a few cases, orations which have not been strictly within the time
limits of the topic, but have had a close logical connection with it. It
is hoped, however, that all such cases will show their own necessity too
clearly for any need of further ex-planation or excuse.




I.


COLONIALISM.


THE FORMATION OF THE CONSTITUTION.


It has been said by an excellent authority that the Constitution was
"extorted from the grinding necessities of a reluctant people." The
truth of the statement is very quickly recognized by even the most
surface student of American politics. The struggle which began in 1774-5
was the direct outcome of the spirit of independence. Rather than submit
to a degrading government by the arbitrary will of a foreign Parliament,
the Massachusetts people chose to enter upon an almost unprecedented war
of a colony against the mother country. Rather than admit the precedent
of the oppression of a sister colony, the other colonies chose to
support Massachusetts in her resistance. Resistance to Parliament
involved resistance to the Crown, the only power which had hitherto
claimed the loyalty of the colonists; and one evil feature of the
Revolution was that the spirit of loyalty disappeared for a time from
American politics. There were, without doubt, many individual cases of
loyalty to "Continental interests"; but the mass of the people had
merely unlearned their loyalty to the Crown, and had learned no other
loyalty to take its place. Their nominal allegiance to the individual
colony was weakened by their underlying consciousness that they really
were a part of a greater nation; their national allegiance had never
been claimed by any power.

The weakness of the confederation was apparent even before its complete
ratification. The Articles of Confederation were proposed by the
Continental Congress, Nov. 15, 1777. They were ratified by eleven States
during the year 1778, and Delaware ratified in 1779. Maryland alone held
out and refused to ratify for two years longer. Her long refusal was due
to her demand for a national control of the Western territory, which
many of the States were trying to appropriate. It was not until there
was positive evidence that the Western territory was to be national
property that Maryland acceded to the articles, and they went into
operation. The interval had given time for study of them, and their
defects were so patent that there was no great expectation among
thinking men of any other result than that which followed. The national
power which the confederation sought to create was an entire nonentity.
There was no executive power, except committees of Congress, and these
had no powers to execute. Congress had practically only the power to
recommend to the States. It had no power to tax, to support armies or
navies, to provide for the interest or payment of the public debt, to
regulate commerce or internal affairs, or to perform any other function
of an efficient national government. It was merely a convenient
instrument of repudiation for the States; Congress was to borrow money
and incur debts, which the States could refuse or neglect to provide
for. Under this system affairs steadily drifted from bad to worse for
some six years after the formal ratification of the articles. There
seemed to be no remedy in the forms of law, for the articles expressly
provided that no alteration was to be made except by the assent of every
State. Congress proposed alterations, such as the temporary grant to
Congress of power to levy duties on imports; but these proposals were
always vetoed by one or more states.

In 1780, in a private letter, Hamilton had suggested a convention of the
States to revise the articles, and as affairs grew worse the proposition
was renewed by others. The first attempt to hold such a convention, on
the call of Virginia, was a failure; but five States sent delegates to
Annapolis, and these wisely contented themselves with recommending
another convention in the following year. Congress was persuaded to
endorse this summons; twelve of the States chose delegates, and the
convention met at Philadelphia, May, 14, 1787. A quorum was obtained,
May 25th, and the deliberations of the convention lasted until Sept.
28th, when the Constitution was reported to Congress.

The difficulties which met the convention were mainly the results of the
division of the States into large and small States. Massachusetts,
Connecticut, Virginia, North Carolina, and Georgia, the States which
claimed to extend to the Mississippi on the west and cherished
indefinite expectations of future growth, were the "large" States. They
desired to give as much power as possible to the new national
government, on condition that the government should be so framed that
they should have control of it. The remaining States were properly
"small" states, and desired to form a government which would leave as
much power as possible to the States. Circumstances worked strongly in
favor of a reasonable result. There never were more than eleven States
in the convention. Rhode Island, a small State, sent no delegates. The
New Hampshire delegates did not appear until the New York delegates
(except Hamilton) had lost patience and retired from the convention.
Pennsylvania was usually neutral. The convention was thus composed of
five large, five small, and one neutral State; and almost all its
decisions were the outcome of judicious compromise.

The large States at first proposed a Congress in both of whose Houses
the State representation should be proportional. They would thus have
had a clear majority in both Houses, and, as Congress was to elect the
President, and other officers, the government would thus have been a
large State government. When "the little States gained their point," by
forcing through the equal representation of the States in the Senate,
the unsubstantial nature of the "national" pretensions of the large
States at once became apparent. The opposition to the whole scheme
centred in the large States, with very considerable assistance from New
York, which was not satisfied with the concessions which the small
States had obtained in the convention. The difficulty of ratification
may be estimated from the final votes in the following State
conventions: Massachusetts, 187 to 163; New Hampshire, 57 to 46;
Virginia, 89 to 79, and New York, 30 to 27. It should also be noted that
the last two ratifications were only made after the ninth State (New
Hampshire) had ratified, and when it was certain that the Constitution
would go into effect with or with-out the ratification of Virginia or
New York. North Carolina did not ratify until 1789, and Rhode Island not
until 1790.

The division between North and South also appeared in the convention. In
order to carry over the Southern States to the support of the final
compromise, it was necessary to insert a guarantee of the slave trade
for twenty years, and a provision that three fifths of the slaves should
be counted in estimating the population for State representation in
Congress. But these provisions, so far as we can judge from the debates
of the time, had no influence against the ratification of the
Constitution; the struggle turned on the differences between the
national leaders, aided by the satisfied small States, on one side, and
the leaders of the State party, aided by the dissatisfied States, large
and small, on the other. The former, the Federalists, were successful,
though by very narrow majorities in several of the States. Washington
was unanimously elected the first President of the Republic; and the new
government was inaugurated at New York, March 4, 1789.

The speech of Henry in the Virginia House of Delegates has been chosen
as perhaps the best representative of the spirit which impelled and
guided the American Revolution. It is fortunate that the ablest of the
national leaders was placed in the very focus of opposition to the
Constitution, so that we may take Hamilton's argument in the New York
convention and Madison's in the Virginia convention, as the most
carefully stated conclusions of the master-minds of the National party.




JAMES OTIS

OF MASSACHUSETTS. (BORN 1725, DIED 1783.)


ON THE WRITS OF ASSISTANCE--BEFORE THE SUPERIOR COURT OF MASSACHUSETTS,
FEBRUARY, 1761.


MAY IT PLEASE YOUR HONORS: I was desired by one of the court to look
into the books, and consider the question now before them concerning
Writs of Assistance. I have accordingly considered it, and now appear
not only in obedience to your order, but likewise in behalf of the
inhabitants of this town, who have presented another petition, and out
of regard to the liberties of the subject. And I take this opportunity
to declare, that whether under a fee or not (for in such a cause as this
I despise a fee), I will to my dying day oppose with all the powers and
faculties God has given me, all such instruments of slavery on the one
hand, and villainy on the other, as this writ of assistance is.

It appears to me the worst instrument of arbitrary power, the most
destructive of English liberty and the fundamental principles of law,
that ever was found in an English law-book. I must therefore beg your
honors' patience and attention to the whole range of an argument, that
may perhaps appear uncommon in many things, as well as to points of
learning that are more remote and unusual: that the whole tendency of my
design may the more easily be perceived, the conclusions better descend,
and the force of them be better felt. I shall not think much of my pains
in this cause, as I engaged in it from principle. I was solicited to
argue this cause as Advocate-General; and because I would not, I have
been charged with desertion from my office. To this charge I can give a
very sufficient answer. I renounced that office, and I argue this cause
from the same principle; and I argue it with the greater pleasure, as it
is in favor of British liberty, at a time when we hear the greatest
monarch upon earth declaring from his throne that he glories in the name
of Briton, and that the privileges of his people are dearer to him than
the most valuable prerogatives of his crown; and as it is in opposition
to a kind of power, the exercise of which in former periods of history
cost one king of England his head, and another his throne. I have taken
more pains in this cause than I ever will take again, although my
engaging in this and another popular cause has raised much resentment.
But I think I can sincerely, declare, that I cheerfully submit myself to
every odious name for conscience' sake; and from my soul I despise all
those whose guilt, malice, or folly has made them my foes. Let the
consequences be what they will, I am determined to proceed. The only
principles of public conduct, that are worthy of a gentleman or a man,
are to sacrifice estate, ease, health, and applause, and even life, to
the sacred calls of his country.

These manly sentiments, in private life, make the good citizens; in
public life, the patriot and the hero. I do not say that, when brought
to the test, I shall be invincible. I pray God I may never be brought to
the melancholy trial, but if ever I should, it will be then known how
far I can reduce to practice principles which I know to be founded in
truth. In the meantime I will proceed to the subject of this writ.

Your honors will find in the old books concerning the office of a
justice of the peace, precedents of general warrants to search suspected
houses. But in more modern books, you will find only special warrants to
search such and such houses, specially named, in which the complainant
has before sworn that he suspects his goods are concealed; and will find
it adjudged, that special warrants only are legal. In the same manner I
rely on it, that the writ prayed for in this petition, being general, is
illegal. It is a power that places the liberty of every man in the hands
of every petty officer. I say I admit that special writs of assistance,
to search special places, may be granted to certain persons on oath; but
I deny that the writ now prayed for can be granted, for I beg leave to
make some observations on the writ itself, before I proceed to other
acts of Parliament. In the first place, the writ is universal, being
directed "to all and singular justices, sheriffs, constables, and all
other officers and subjects"; so that, in short, it is directed to every
subject in the king's dominions. Every one with this writ may be a
tyrant; if this commission be legal, a tyrant in a legal manner, also,
may control, imprison, or murder anyone within the realm. In the next
place, it is perpetual, there is no return. A man is accountable to no
person for his doings. Every man may reign secure in his petty tyranny,
and spread terror and desolation around him, until the trump of the
archangel shall excite different emotions in his soul. In the third
place, a person with this writ, in the daytime, may enter all houses,
shops, etc., at will, and command all to assist him. Fourthly, by this
writ, not only deputies, etc., but even their menial servants, are
allowed to lord it over us. What is this but to have the curse of Canaan
with a witness on us: to be the servant of servants, the most despicable
of God's creation? Now one of the most essential branches of English
liberty is the freedom of one's house. A man's house is his castle; and
whilst he is quiet, he is as well guarded as a prince in his castle.
This writ, if it should be declared legal, would totally annihilate this
privilege. Custom-house officers may enter our houses when they please;
we are commanded to permit their entry. Their menial servants may enter,
may break locks, bars, and everything in their way; and whether they
break through malice or revenge, no man, no court can inquire. Bare
suspicion without oath is sufficient. This wanton exercise of this power
is not a chimerical suggestion of a heated brain. I will mention some
facts. Mr. Pew had one of these writs, and when Mr. Ware succeeded him,
he endorsed this writ over to Mr. Ware; so that these writs are
negotiable from one officer to another; and so your honors have no
opportunity of judging the persons to whom this vast power is delegated.
Another instance is this: Mr. Justice Walley had called this same Mr.
Ware before him, by a constable, to answer for a breach of the
Sabbath-day acts, or that of profane swearing. As soon as he had
finished, Mr. Ware asked him if he had done. He replied, "Yes." "Well
then," said Mr. Ware, "I will show you a little of my power. I command
you to permit me to search your house for uncustomed goods"; and went on
to search the house from the garret to the cellar; and then served the
constable in the same manner! But to show another absurdity in this
writ: if it should be established, I insist upon it every person, by the
14th Charles Second, has this power as well as the custom-house
officers. The words are: "it shall be lawful for any person or persons
authorized," etc. What a scene does this open! Every man prompted by
revenge, ill-humor, or wantonness to inspect the inside of his
neighbor's house, may get a writ of assistance. Others will ask it from
self-defence; one arbitrary exertion will provoke another, until society
be involved in tumult and in blood:

Pages:
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Copyright (c) 2007. bestextbooks.com. All rights reserved.

Booker prize shortlist drops early frontrunners
Latest news and features from guardian.co.uk, the world's leading liberal voice

Extract: The Whales by Evie Wyld

Christos Tsiolkas and David Mitchell, both much-tipped when they appeared on the award longlist, have been overlooked in the six finalists

Listen to Claire Armitstead and Sarah Crown discuss the Booker shortlist on a special edition of the Guardian Books Podcast

It headed the most controversial Man Booker prize longlist in years, but Christos Tsiolkas's The Slap has failed to make the final cut for the literary award, as has David Mitchell's much-tipped fifth novel, The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet.

Judges overlooked Australian novelist Tsiolkas's tale of the consequences when a child is slapped at a suburban barbecue – which is either "unbelievably misogynistic" or "riveting from beginning to end", depending on who's asked – and Mitchell, twice shortlisted for the prize in the past, to select a shortlist which ranges from two-time former winner Peter Carey's Parrot and Olivier in America to Emma Donoghue. The Irish writer has also stirred up debate with her Josel Fritzl-inspired Room, the story of a boy and his mother imprisoned in a tiny room for years.

Orange prize winner Andrea Levy's The Long Song, about the last years of slavery in Jamaica; Howard Jacobson's The Finkler Question, a cerebral comedy about grief and Anglo-Jewishness; experimental novelist Tom McCarthy's C, which tells the story of Serge Carrefax, a first world war radio operator who escapes from a German prison camp; and South African writer Damon Galgut's tale of a young man travelling through Greece, India and Africa, In a Strange Room, complete the six-strong shortlist for the £50,000 prize, announced this morning.

"It's been a great privilege and an exciting challenge for us to reduce our longlist of 13 to this shortlist of six outstandingly good novels," said chair of judges Andrew Motion, the former poet laureate. "In doing so, we feel sure we've chosen books which demonstrate a rich variety of styles and themes – while in every case providing deep individual pleasures."

The panel of judges had previously read 138 books to select the 13 titles for their longlist, with Martin Amis's new novel The Pregnant Widow and Ian McEwan's venture into comic fiction Solar both overlooked and Carey the only previous Booker winner on the longlist.

His inclusion on the shortlist today for Parrot and Olivier in America, a reimagining of Democracy in America author Alexis de Tocqueville's visit to the New World, gives him the chance of becoming the first ever writer to win the Booker three times, having previously taken it in 1988 for Oscar and Lucinda and 2001 for True History of the Kelly Gang.

"The omission of both David Mitchell and Christos Tsiolkas from the shortlist is a real shock. While both writers might rightly feel aggrieved at being overlooked, I imagine it took some wrangling amongst the judges to reduce one of the best longlists in years to six," said Jonathan Ruppin at independent book chain Foyles, who, while praising all six books for their "lightness of touch which means the reader doesn't get bogged down in something worthy or dull", predicted that Room was the most likely title to go on to win the award.

Waterstone's tipped C to take the prize, with fiction buying manager Simon Burke calling it "a challenging yet dazzling novel". "The news that David Mitchell has not made the shortlist will cause great wailing and gnashing of teeth across the bookworld, but perhaps is a useful reminder of the independence and unpredictability of the Booker," he said. "But this is still a hugely varied and exciting list, worthy of the Booker brand. Carey and Levy have to be strong contenders, but our money is on Tom McCarthy. The more people that read [C] the better."

The bookies agreed, with William Hill immediately installing McCarthy as 2/1 favourite to win the prize. "There has been a considerable media buzz around all of the books on the shortlist, and literary punters have staked more money in total on Tom McCarthy to win than any of the other authors, so he is a worthy favourite," said spokesman Graham Sharpe. Donoghue and Galgut came in second at the bookmaker, both at 3/1, with one customer so sure that In A Strange Room would win that they placed £400 on Galgut at 7/1, the largest single bet on the prize "for a few years", said Sharpe.

Carey came in fourth, at 5/1, with Levy at 7/1 and Jacobson the 8/1 outside to take the prize.

The opinion-splitting novels picked for this year's longlist have helped make it the most popular since 2001, with Tsiolkas's novel selling the most copies, followed by Donoghue's. The winner, who will join a roster of former winners including Margaret Atwood, Roddy Doyle and JM Coetzee, will be announced on 12 October. Last year's winner Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel is the fastest-selling Booker winner ever, with sales of around half-a-million copies to date.

The Man Booker shortlist in full:

Peter Carey's Parrot and Olivier in America

Emma Donoghue's Room

Damon Galgut's In a Strange Room

Howard Jacobson's The Finkler Question

Andrea Levy's The Long Song

Tom McCarthy's C

To buy all six Booker shortlisted titles for only £65 (save £37.94) with free UK p&p visit the Guardian Bookshop or call 0330 333 6846.


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The Marxist Miliband

Evie Wyld, whose debut novel After the Fire, a Still Small Voice won the 2009 John Llewellyn Rhys prize, has written a short story, The Whales, exclusively for Booktrust, where she is currently writer-in-residence. Here we join Jimmy, Elaine, Terry and Yvonne, deep in the bush after five days of walking. The conclusion will appear on the Booktrust website tomorrow

There are four of them footslogging single file along the trail. They sweat and wave their sticks at the flies, spitting the salt off their lips and feeling the rub of their backpacks, hot on their shoulders. A storm bird knows about them from miles off and lets out a wop-wop-wop, getting higher and louder as it goes. Jimmy watches Elaine look up at the gum-treed sky. He follows her gaze. No, he thinks. The bird is wrong; overhead is blue without a wash of cloud.

The crack of dry bark, the whistle of whip birds and sometimes a thundering in the undergrowth – a wombat, a pademelon – it all makes Jimmy feel younger. He can feel the muscles in his thighs working, can feel them thank him for not being stood at the assembly line six hours a day.

Five days of walking and now they are deep in the bush. In another day, they'll turn east, head for the sea, where if they make good time, they'll see the humpbacks heading south towards the Antarctic, their new calves in tow. There'll be a party that night, between the four of them. Terry the young bow-legged one from further down the line with a touch of the idiot about him, Yvonne his frizz-plaited, heavy cousin who runs accounts and her friend Elaine who is nothing to do with the factory and who returns his glances, smiling. Not a bad lot really, especially the girls.

Three days down the coast and they'll arrive home about ready for that soft bed and the meal without char-grit from the campfire, or the dog food pong of tinned meat. It's been good so far. He thinks of what was waiting for him if he hadn't gone bush this week – all those monkey-wrenches wanting to be set. It's been time to move on for a while, he sees that now. Only he'll wait and see what comes of Elaine and the damp hair that ringlets at the back of her neck.

Later in the day he spots a bower bird's chapel. Even this far in, the bird has found a blue toothbrush and bits of turquoise plastic to frame its humpy. He takes a photo, so that the side of Elaine's brown leg slides up the view finder.

'They only collect blue stuff', he says, mainly to Elaine. He feels the roots of his fingers strain as he reigns himself in, his stiff hands reminding him not to overdo it. Steady on.

Chances are, Elaine already knows more than him about bower birds – she told him she's walked the bush for six years, since she left varsity, this last two with Yvonne for company and he only knows from camping out when money gets bad. But he wants to show something to her. Elaine squats next to him and traces an arc with one finger in the dirt, looking at the toothbrush. She is smiling with her eyebrows pulled in.

'It's to impress the female – then she'll come down and he'll do a sexy dance.' As he explains, he wiggles his tail a little in a sexy dance and Elaine smiles wider.

Terry who has been leaning over them to get a look, gyrates around his walking stick. What his mating dance lacks in accuracy it makes up for in energy and the other three look on in silence while he makes the noise of a boombox with his lips pressed together. Jimmy's fingers stretch out towards the ground in embarrassment as he keeps his bad eye – the eye that he thinks of as his secret eye – on Elaine.

'You're a disgustin' specimen, Terry', says the stone-buttocked Yvonne. Terry quickens his hips and points, wiggling himself towards her.

Yvonne stands stiff and still like a wary buffalo. 'Never been the brightest crayon in the box', she says and they all push past him, smiles held down. Jimmy looks back to see him finish in a bunny squat and a flick of his head.

'Yeah!' says Terry loudly, arms raised and both thumbs up to the tops of the trees like they are his audience.

'Yeah' and he finds a cigarette in his back pocket, lights it and considers its glowing end before following on.

There'd been a night of heavy breathing when Elaine and Jimmy faced each other in their swags. They hadn't touched but they'd looked hard in the dark, seeing the glints of each other's tongues, teeth and eyes. There is a luxury in not touching, Jimmy thinks, in not just going with your gut; they don't have all the time in the world but they have this time, which won't end for another few days.

He looks forward to it, imagines the beach in an old film kind of a way. The last night when they will open the wine they've lugged all this way – they'll cool the bottles in a rock pool for a couple of hours, while they see what the beach has for them. He's a beach person at heart, it's where his childhood is at and he can't wait to show off about it. Terry's brought along his spearfishing gear and says he reckons on a good spot up at the point. Jimmy imagines striding into camp, a jewfish slung over one shoulder, a clutch of softly ticking crays hung from their whiskers in his other fist. When the moon's up and the salty wine is drunk, their fingers warm and sticky with sand and cray brains, he'll rub his foot over hers. He'll put his wrists either side of her jaw, so as not to touch her with his prawny fingers and he'll plant a long warm kiss on her mouth, one that shows them both that this is the start of things. He could think about staying on at the factory, him who hasn't stayed in one spot for more than six months at a time since he was 16. Or else, Elaine could come with him, go feral together up the coast. He gets the feeling there's not much holding her to the city anymore. He looks down at himself and he speaks softly to his hands You're orright you bung-eyed bastard. You're an okay sort after all.

Elaine breaks off from the group to take a pee in the scrub. She squats behind a paperbark and laughs. She's been hip deep in croc water, has woken up feeling a huntsman, as big as both of her hands put together, tangling with her feet in her swag. But the idea that the group might hear the sound of her pissing makes it so that she can't go. Eventually, she manages and makes a wet stain on the gum leaves. She pulls her shorts back up and a twig cracks not far up ahead. Shadows rise and fall as something heavy moves away. She catches up with the others at a jog.

Jimmy, that trunk of a man with his duff eye and his bear hands and her pal Yvonne are arguing about a fish. The argument is snapper versus flathead, but in what capacity Elaine is not sure. Terry is unusually quiet for a conversation involving food and he walks a little way from Jimmy and Yvonne.

'Stone lighter?' he asks quietly.

'It was a pee', she says, but her face flushes anyway.

'Right', says Terry and he smiles a weird smile. Elaine accidentally catches his eye.

By five o'clock they reach a small billabong. They strip down to their underwear and jump in like kids, laughing, drowning each other with splashing. Terry tries to duck the girls under, Jimmy dives for yabbies and opens his eyes in the bourbon-coloured water. The white legs of the other three bicycle in the open water. When he comes up for air, he can see that Yvonne is pleased with her breasts and bobs them gently up and down making small waves to the bank.

Jimmy looks a long time at Elaine and she looks back. There is a water level smile between them. He is aware of the ripples that come from his heartbeat and he sees how Elaine's canines creep over her bottom lip. Her hair is dark now, but in the light you can see into it. Where the sun hasn't caught her, her skin is like the damp underside of a leaf.

Elaine thinks she's some wonderful creature. The water holds her in on all sides, she feels good in her skin. The billabong is black from the tea trees that line the bank and when she flicks her legs to the surface she's a pale fish. She pauses before she puts her head under – a brief worry about spluttering and snotting in front of Jimmy, but then she thinks of the beach and the sea to come and she duck dives.

The dark water lifts her hair up and spreads it out, it pushes around her cheeks and taps on her eyelids as she reaches out for the leafy mud of the billabong floor, but even though she goes deep, her hands touch nothing. She kicks up for air and sends a flume of mist from her mouth. She smiles widely at Jimmy who floats on his back like an otter, hands clasped over his chest, dreaming of something.

Frogs and magpies are loud and someone finds a leech and then another and another and there's shrill laughing.

Terry shouts, 'It's eatin' the fuckin' kidneys out of me!' then, 'You girls want me to check under your bras?'

Even though everyone has had a leech before and every person has treated that leech with salt or the tip of a cigarette, quietly, without fear, they all pretend this is the first time they've been bitten and they wallow in the hysteria, enjoying it like gobble-mouthed kids.

Out of the water, damp shirts wrapped around them like towels, Jimmy burns a fat one off Elaine's shoulder. She looks at him sideways and curls a bit of paper bark around her finger.

'Ta', she says, as Jimmy passes her the cigarette which they share puffs from. He looks at her with his good eye. It creases in the corner.

The four of them set up camp a little way from the water hole, away from the leeches. Terry makes a small tepee out of kindling and rings stones around it to stop the fire spreading. Once it's lit they hang over a billy and drink tea while they watch the bats turning circles in the creeping darkness. Yvonne stirs up a thick damper and they bake it in a pan over the fire, to be eaten with a warmed tin of bean stew and rice pudding for afters. The birds are mostly quiet and the cicadas and frogs rev themselves up, as everyone slaps on Rid against the mosquitoes.

'Reckon we'll beat those whales, the way we're moving', Terry says cleaning his bowl with a licked finger.

'Fuckin' A.' Yvonne brings out a flask of bourbon to swill down the pudding with. She takes a long unflinching pull of it before passing it round and beginning a murder story.

'There's this girl went missing not far from Tully – all the kids hitchhike out there…' The dark gets deeper and everyone settles in, enjoying the creep of it. Elaine thinks that there's nothing you can't fix by putting your cheek to the land and feeling it settle. She studies the landscape of Jimmy's face. He is unashamedly enthralled by Yvonne's story. His funny eye looks directly at Elaine but doesn't see her. The lines on his forehead have dirt ground in. He's older than Elaine and she wonders what it is he's been doing all the time he's been alive.

In the silence, after Yvonne's concluding remark 'They only ever found her thumb', Terry farts, a loud one and everyone groans.

'Well, that's put that to bed', he says and they all unroll their swags around the fire and climb in for the night. Jimmy feels the hot weight of Elaine's foot on his and his fingers twitch on their own. Elaine sees Terry's wet eyes, tangerine from the fire and spreads her toes out. She stays awake for as long as possible, making up script after script of how it will go with Jimmy once they reach the sea. She replays the swim at waterhole until she's unsure if she's made parts of it up. She finally falls asleep with her heartbeat high in her chest.

Jimmy wakes long before dawn with a pressure like a stone on his bladder. He swears quietly and rolls out of his swag to ease the ache against a tree. In the undergrowth to his right, something scrabbles. He catches a strong scent and sees a wet snout or eye in the dark. A rumble in the brush and it's gone. Probably a pig or a dingo, but he's glad to get back to the group, where the coals in the fire are still orange. He checks each sleeper. Terry is spread at a diagonal, mouth open, not snoring but making noise. Yvonne sleeps on her front clutching the loose material of her swag, not letting it get away. Elaine is on her side and a brown arm has slithered free. Her hair makes a perfect ring around her ear. As he watches she produces a little noise, a tiny pop from her lips as they're opened with breath. Sleep speaking, thinks Jimmy as he burrows back into his swag, careful not to jog her feet with his, but careful also that they are touching.

The morning is hot and blue from the outset. After tea and a tidy up, they set off, aiming to reach the sea before sunset. Jimmy looks forward to a swim in the bubbling salt, a proper clean down with no bloodsuckers. Terry starts to talk about food almost immediately,

'Lamb chops.' He says confidently to Yvonne. 'That's gotta be the best type of food; lamb chops with the whole grill piece; onions, mushrooms, boiled spuds – no tomatoes though, I'm so over tomatoes.' Yvonne rolls her eyes at him.

'Couldn't give a rat's ring, Terry,' but she hands him a date and a piece of chocolate. Elaine enjoys her feeling of emptiness. Her spit tastes of eucalyptus, she feels new, like the air and blood in her has been filtered out and changed for something better.

After midday, there's a yell from Terry up ahead.

'Get a look at this!' The other three catch up to find him crouching in a small clearing surrounded by stay-a-while and they peer over his shoulder. There's a dead butcher bird on the ground and following the line of Terry's finger into one of the thorny bushes, they see its larder. A small mouse impaled through the neck, stiff and dry, missing parts of its hind quarters, a large Christmas beetle, upside down with the thorn square through the middle and last, still twitching, its legs up and angry, barely impaled through its leaking abdomen, a mouse spider.

'Christssake' whispers Jimmy stepping back.

'How the poor bastard got it up here, I can't figure,' Terry says, pushing the bird with his foot to reveal the green ants starting on its wing. The mouse spider's fangs, black and thick and shiny are up and ready to strike. It waves its legs in the air. Terry picks up a twig to poke it with, but Yvonne knocks it out of his hand.

'Don't be a bum, Terry. I'm not carrying yer fat dead lump out of here if you get bitten. You can count on that.' Jimmy takes a photograph, in which Terry insists on including his own hand, so as get the scale of the thing.

They start to walk on, but Elaine stays behind a beat or two looking at the spider; its fangs reaching for her, legs pointing.

'The sky is falling, the sky is falling!' Yvonne shrieks in a chicken voice as thunder mumbles in the distance. Elaine looks again at the sky, but it's still clear. The thunder is a long way off, but you can smell it in the air, which is heavy and hot. The tips of the trees sway in the sky, but there's no breeze down on the bush floor.

A goanna clings to a Moreton Bay fig above them but nobody sees it.

Jimmy touches the side of Elaine's hand with his little finger and as he does, the leaves to the side of her snaffle and a striped snake comes streaking out of the ground, hitting her on the boot. She barks loudly and kicks trying to get her foot away. The snake's fangs are deeply embedded in the leather of her boot and she shakes her leg hard while around her the others dip and weave and try to help and point their sticks. Jimmy thinks he has control of the situation when he holds Elaine's arm and beats at the snake with his walking stick, accidentally cracking her on the shin. The snake is dislodged, but instead of bolting back into the undergrowth, it turns again and bites Elaine, once, twice, three times and a fourth; calf, back of the knee, thigh, deeply, deeply again on her inner thigh. It's snap-quick and Jimmy doesn't have time to understand and still has Elaine by the arm so she doesn't get away. Finally, Terry gets it – a blow to the eye – and it's stunned. He stomps on the head, but it still twitches, so he beats it with his stick, smashing, till it changes colour, loses its stripes. It is still, but the bush crackles and carries on.

Elaine is tight-lipped and white. Yvonne cries softly into her cupped hands, the small beeps of a bird. Terry shoes leaves over the corpse of the snake and Jimmy still holds Elaine's arm, his grip hard from not knowing what to do, from doing the wrong thing. There is blood, Elaine thinks how it looks like she's got her period and then thinks she'd love a piece of liquorice from her backpack. She starts to turn around, to take her pack off, but her legs have lost their hardness and she is sliding back into Jimmy who is stiff and still.

'Jesus H Christ,' whispers Terry. He looks at the snake and away, prodding it rhythmically with his stick. 'Jimmy,' he says. 'Jesus, Jimmy.'

'S'just a nip,' says Elaine.

As she slides to the ground with the help of Jimmy who has become flesh again, Elaine thinks about the liquorice and then about how it was a tiger. A big dose of tiger and she's starting to feel it now, it feels like it bit her in the artery of her groin. The big one. The one where all the blood lives.

Yvonne straightens herself. She helps Elaine's pack off her back and slides it behind her back to prop her up. She pulls out her poncho and arranges it over Elaine's wounded leg, to keep it out of sight and then snaps the men into action.

'Hot water - get a fire on. Get the first aid.' She looks at the two men who are twisting their fingers. 'C'mon s'only a fuckin' snake bite, let's get it sorted and get on with it.' She's right and Jimmy says so. He says, 'Only a snake bite.' Smiling at Elaine, but what they all think, Jimmy, Terry, Yvonne and Elaine is but it's tiger. And we are deep in. Deep.

• To read the conclusion of the story, visit the Booktrust website from Tuesday 7 September.

• Evie Wyld works in the independent Review Bookshop in Peckham. She is taking part in a live-streamed book club Q&A from the shop at 7.30pm on Thursday 9 September. To find out how to submit questions for the event, visit the Booktrust website


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