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American Prisoners of the Revolution by Danske Dandridge

D >> Danske Dandridge >> American Prisoners of the Revolution

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Produced by Dave Maddock, Charlz Franks
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.





AMERICAN PRISONERS OF THE REVOLUTION

BY

DANSKE DANDRIDGE




Dedication

TO THE MEMORY OF MY GRANDFATHER

Lieutenant Daniel Bedinger, of Bedford, Virginia

"A BOY IN PRISON"

AS REPRESENTATIVE OF ALL THAT WAS BRAVEST AND MOST HONORABLE IN THE
LIFE AND CHARACTER OF THE PATRIOTS OF 1776



PREFACE


The writer of this book has been interested for many years in the
subject of the sufferings of the American prisoners of the
Revolution. Finding the information she sought widely scattered, she
has, for her own use, and for that of all students of the subject,
gathered all the facts she could obtain within the covers of this
volume. There is little that is original in the compilation. The
reader will find that extensive use has been made of such narratives
as that Captain Dring has left us. The accounts could have been given
in the compiler's own words, but they would only, thereby, have lost
in strength. The original narratives are all out of print, very scarce
and hard to obtain, and the writer feels justified in reprinting them
in this collection, for the sake of the general reader interested in
the subject, and not able to search for himself through the mass of
original material, some of which she has only discovered after months
of research. Her work has mainly consisted in abridging these records,
collected from so many different sources.

The writer desires to express her thanks to the courteous librarians
of the Library of Congress and of the War and Navy Departments; to
Dr. Langworthy for permission to publish his able and interesting
paper on the subject of the prisons in New York, and to many others
who have helped her in her task.

DANSKE DANDRIDGE.

_December 6th, 1910._



CONTENTS.


CHAPTER

PREFACE

I. INTRODUCTORY

II. THE RIFLEMEN OF THE REVOLUTION

III. NAMES OF SOME OF THE PRISONERS OF 1776

IV. THE PRISONERS OF NEW YORK--JONATHAN GILLETT

V. WILLIAM CUNNINGHAM, THE PROVOST MARSHAL

VI. THE CASE OF JABEZ FITCH

VII. THE HOSPITAL DOCTOR--A TORY'S ACCOUNT OF NEW YORK IN
1777--ETHAN ALLEN'S ACCOUNT OF THE PRISONERS

VIII. THE ACCOUNT OF ALEXANDER GRAYDON

IX. A FOUL PAGE OF ENGLISH HISTORY

X. A BOY IN PRISON

XI. THE NEWSPAPERS OF THE REVOLUTION

XII. THE TRUMBULL PAPERS AND OTHER SOURCES OF INFORMATION

XIII. A JOURNAL KEPT IN THE PROVOST

XIV. FURTHER TESTIMONY OF CRUELTIES ENDURED BY AMERICAN PRISONERS

XV. THE OLD SUGAR HOUSE--TRINITY CHURCHYARD

XVI. CASE OF JOHN BLATCHFORD

XVII. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN AND OTHERS ON THE SUBJECT OF AMERICAN
PRISONERS

XVIII. THE ADVENTURES OF ANDREW SHERBURNE

XIX. MORE ABOUT THE ENGLISH PRISONS--MEMOIR OF ELI
BICKFORD--CAPTAIN FANNING

XX. SOME SOUTHERN NAVAL PRISONERS

XXI. EXTRACTS FROM NEWSPAPERS--SOME OF THE PRISON SHIPS--CASE OF
CAPTAIN BIRDSALL

XXII. THE JOURNAL OF DR. ELIAS CORNELIUS--BRITISH PRISONS IN THE
SOUTH

XXIII. A POET ON A PRISON SHIP

XXIV. "THERE WAS A SHIP!"

XXV. A DESCRIPTION OF THE JERSEY

XXVI. THE EXPERIENCE OF EBENEZER FOX

XXVII. THE EXPERIENCE OF EBENEZER FOX (CONTINUED)

XXVIII. THE CASE OF CHRISTOPHER HAWKINS

XXIX. TESTIMONY OF PRISONERS ON BOARD THE JERSEY

XXX. RECOLLECTIONS OF ANDREW SHERBURNE

XXXI. CAPTAIN ROSWELL PALMER

XXXII. THE NARRATIVE OF CAPTAIN ALEXANDER COFFIN

XXXIII. A WONDERFUL DELIVERANCE

XXXIV. THE NARRATIVE OF CAPTAIN DRING

XXXV. THE NARRATIVE OF CAPTAIN DRING (CONTINUED)

XXXVI. THE INTERMENT OF THE DEAD

XXXVII. DAME GRANT AND HER BOAT

XXXVIII. THE SUPPLIES FOR THE PRISONERS

XXXIX. FOURTH OF JULY ON THE JERSEY

XL. AN ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE

XLI. THE MEMORIAL TO GENERAL WASHINGTON

XLII. THE EXCHANGE

XLIII. THE CARTEL--CAPTAIN DRING'S NARRATIVE (CONTINUED)

XLIV. CORRESPONDENCE OF WASHINGTON AND OTHERS

XLV. GENERAL WASHINGTON AND REAR ADMIRAL DIGBY--COMMISSARIES
SPROAT AND SKINNER

XLVI. SOME OF THE PRISONERS ON BOARD THE JERSEY

CONCLUSION

APPENDIX A. LIST OF 8000 MEN WHO WERE PRISONERS ON BOARD THE OLD
JERSEY

APPENDIX B. THE PRISON SHIP MARTYRS OF THE REVOLUTION, AND AN
UNPUBLISHED DIARY OF ONE OF THEM, WILLIAM SLADE, NEW CANAAN, CONN.,
LATER OF CORNWALL, VT.

APPENDIX C. BIBLIOGRAPHY



CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTORY


It is with no desire to excite animosity against a people whose blood
is in our veins that we publish this volume of facts about some of the
Americans, seamen and soldiers, who were so unfortunate as to fall
into the hands of the enemy during the period of the Revolution. We
have concealed nothing of the truth, but we have set nothing down in
malice, or with undue recrimination.

It is for the sake of the martyrs of the prisons themselves that this
work has been executed. It is because we, as a people, ought to know
what was endured; what wretchedness, what relentless torture, even
unto death, was nobly borne by the men who perished by thousands in
British prisons and prison ships of the Revolution; it is because we
are in danger of forgetting the sacrifice they made of their fresh
young lives in the service of their country; because the story has
never been adequately told, that we, however unfit we may feel
ourselves for the task, have made an effort to give the people of
America some account of the manner in which these young heroes, the
flower of the land, in the prime of their vigorous manhood, met their
terrible fate.

Too long have they lain in the ditches where they were thrown, a
cart-full at a time, like dead dogs, by their heartless murderers,
unknown, unwept, unhonored, and unremembered. Who can tell us their
names? What monument has been raised to their memories?

It is true that a beautiful shaft has lately been erected to the
martyrs of the Jersey prison ship, about whom we will have very much
to say. But it is improbable that even the place of interment of the
hundreds of prisoners who perished in the churches, sugar houses, and
other places used as prisons in New York in the early years of the
Revolution, can now be discovered. We know that they were, for the
most part, dumped into ditches dug on the outskirts of the little
city, the New York of 1776. These ditches were dug by American
soldiers, as part of the entrenchments, during Washington's occupation
of Manhattan in the spring of 1776. Little did these young men think
that they were, in some cases, literally digging a grave for
themselves.

More than a hundred and thirty years have passed since the victims of
Cunningham's cruelty and rapacity were starved to death in churches
consecrated to the praise and worship of a God of love. It is a tardy
recognition that we are giving them, and one that is most imperfect,
yet it is all that we can now do. The ditches where they were interred
have long ago been filled up, built over, and intersected by
streets. Who of the multitude that daily pass to and fro over the
ground that should be sacred ever give a thought to the remains of the
brave men beneath their feet, who perished that they might enjoy the
blessings of liberty?

Republics are ungrateful; they have short memories; but it is due to
the martyrs of the Revolution that some attempt should be made to tell
to the generations that succeed them who they were, what they did, and
why they suffered so terribly and died so grimly, without weakening,
and without betraying the cause of that country which was dearer to
them than their lives.

We have, for the most part, limited ourselves to the prisons and
prison ships in the city and on the waters of New York. This is
because such information as we have been able to obtain concerning the
treatment of American prisoners by the British relates, almost
entirely, to that locality.

It is a terrible story that we are about to narrate, and we warn the
lover of pleasant books to lay down our volume at the first page. We
shall see Cunningham, that burly, red-faced ruffian, the Provost
Marshal, wreaking his vengeance upon the defenceless prisoners in his
keeping, for the assault made upon him at the outbreak of the war,
when he and a companion who had made themselves obnoxious to the
republicans were mobbed and beaten in the streets of New York. He was
rescued by some friends of law and order, and locked up in one of the
jails which was soon to be the theatre of his revenge. We shall
narrate the sufferings of the American prisoners taken at the time of
the battle of Long Island, and after the surrender of Fort Washington,
which events occurred, the first in August, the second in November of
the year 1776.

What we have been able to glean from many sources, none of which
contradict each other in any important point, about the prisons and
prison ships in New York, with a few narratives written by those who
were imprisoned in other places, shall fill this volume. Perhaps
others, far better fitted for the task, will make the necessary
researches, in order to lay before the American people a statement of
what took place in the British prisons at Halifax, Charleston,
Philadelphia, the waters off the coast of Florida, and other places,
during the eight years of the war. It is a solemn and affecting duty
that we owe to the dead, and it is in no light spirit that we, for our
part, begin our portion of the task.



CHAPTER II

THE RIFLEMEN OF THE REVOLUTION


We will first endeavor to give the reader some idea of the men who
were imprisoned in New York in the fall and winter of 1776, It was in
the summer of that year that Congress ordered a regiment of riflemen
to be raised in Maryland and Virginia. These, with the so-called
"Flying Camp" of Pennsylvania, made the bulk of the soldiers taken
prisoners at Fort Washington on the fatal 16th of November. Washington
had already proved to his own satisfaction the value of such soldiers;
not only by his experience with them in the French and Indian wars,
but also during the siege of Boston in 1775-6.

These hardy young riflemen were at first called by the British
"regulars," "a rabble in calico petticoats," as a term of
contempt. Their uniform consisted of tow linen or homespun hunting
shirts, buckskin breeches, leggings and moccasins. They wore round
felt hats, looped on one side and ornamented with a buck tail. They
carried long rifles, shot pouches, tomahawks, and scalping knives.

They soon proved themselves of great value for their superior
marksmanship, and the British, who began by scoffing at them, ended by
fearing and hating them as they feared and hated no other troops. The
many accounts of the skill of these riflemen are interesting, and some
of them shall be given here.

One of the first companies that marched to the aid of Washington when
he was at Cambridge in 1775 was that of Captain Michael Cresap, which
was raised partly in Maryland and partly in the western part of
Virginia. This gallant young officer died in New York in the fall of
1775, a year before the surrender of Fort Washington, yet his company
may be taken as a fair sample of what the riflemen of the frontiers of
our country were, and of what they could do. We will therefore give
the words of an eyewitness of their performances. This account is
taken from the _Pennsylvania Journal_ of August 23rd, 1775.

"On Friday evening last arrived at Lancaster, Pa., on their way to the
American camp, Captain Cresap's Company of Riflemen, consisting of one
hundred and thirty active, brave young fellows, many of whom have been
in the late expedition under Lord Dunmore against the Indians. They
bear in their bodies visible marks of their prowess, and show scars
and wounds which would do honour to Homer's Iliad. They show you, to
use the poet's words:

"'Where the gor'd battle bled at ev'ry vein!'

"One of these warriors in particular shows the cicatrices of four
bullet holes through his body.

"These men have been bred in the woods to hardships and dangers since
their infancy. They appear as if they were entirely unacquainted with,
and had never felt the passion of fear. With their rifles in their
hands, they assume a kind of omnipotence over their enemies. One
cannot much wonder at this when we mention a fact which can be fully
attested by several of the reputable persons who were eye-witnesses of
it. Two brothers in the company took a piece of board five inches
broad, and seven inches long, with a bit of white paper, the size of a
dollar, nailed in the centre, and while one of them supported this
board perpendicularly between his knees, the other at the distance of
upwards of sixty yards, and without any kind of rest, shot eight
bullets through it successively, and spared a brother's thigh!

"Another of the company held a barrel stave perpendicularly in his
hands, with one edge close to his side, while one of his comrades, at
the same distance, and in the manner before mentioned, shot several
bullets through it, without any apprehension of danger on either side.

"The spectators appearing to be amazed at these feats, were told that
there were upwards of fifty persons in the same company who could do
the same thing; that there was not one who could not 'plug nineteen
bullets out of twenty,' as they termed it, within an inch of the head
of a ten-penny nail.

"In short, to evince the confidence they possessed in these kind of
arms, some of them proposed to stand with apples on their heads, while
others at the same distance undertook to shoot them off, but the
people who saw the other experiments declined to be witnesses of this.

"At night a great fire was kindled around a pole planted in the Court
House Square, where the company with the Captain at their head, all
naked to the waist and painted like savages (except the Captain, who
was in an Indian shirt), indulged a vast concourse of people with a
perfect exhibition of a war-dance and all the manoeuvres of Indians;
holding council, going to war; circumventing their enemies by defiles;
ambuscades; attacking; scalping, etc. It is said by those who are
judges that no representation could possibly come nearer the
original. The Captain's expertness and agility, in particular, in
these experiments, astonished every beholder. This morning they will
set out on their march for Cambridge."

From the _Virginia Gazette_ of July 22nd, 1775, we make the
following extract: "A correspondent informs us that one of the
gentlemen appointed to command a company of riflemen to be raised in
one of the frontier counties of Pennsylvania had so many applications
from the people in his neighborhood, to be enrolled in the service,
that a greater number presented themselves than his instructions
permitted him to engage, and being unwilling to give offence to any he
thought of the following expedient: He, with a piece of chalk, drew on
a board the figure of a nose of the common size, which he placed at
the distance of 150 yards, declaring that those who came nearest the
mark should be enlisted. Sixty odd hit the object.--General Gage, take
care of your nose!"

From the _Pennsylvania Journal_, July 25th, 1775: "Captain Dowdle
with his company of riflemen from Yorktown, Pa., arrived at Cambridge
about one o'clock today, and since has made proposals to General
Washington to attack the transport stationed at Charles River. He will
engage to take her with thirty men. The General thinks it best to
decline at present, but at the same time commends the spirit of
Captain Dowdle and his brave men, who, though they just came a very
long march, offered to execute the plan immediately."

In the third volume of American Archives, is an extract from a letter
to a gentleman in Philadelphia, dated Frederick Town, Maryland, August
1st, 1775, which speaks of the same company of riflemen whose
wonderful marksmanship we have already noted. The writer says:

"Notwithstanding the urgency of my business I have been detained here
three days by a circumstance truly agreeable. I have had the happiness
of seeing Captain Michael Cresap marching at the head of a formidable
company of upwards of one hundred and thirty men from the mountains
and backwoods; painted like Indians; armed with tomahawks and rifles;
dressed in hunting shirts and moccasins; and, tho' some of them had
travelled hundreds of miles from the banks of the Ohio, they seemed to
walk light and easy, and not with less spirit than at the first hour
of their march.

"I was favored by being constantly in Captain Cresap's company, and
watched the behavior of his men and the manner in which he treated
them, for is seems that all who go out to war under him do not only
pay the most willing obedience to him as their commander, but in every
instance of distress look up to him as their friend and father. A
great part of his time was spent in listening to and relieving their
wants, without any apparent sense of fatigue and trouble. When
complaints were before him he determined with kindness and spirit, and
on every occasion condescended to please without losing dignity.

"Yesterday, July 31st, the company were supplied with a small quantity
of powder, from the magazine, which wanted airing, and was not in good
order for rifles: in the evening, however, they were drawn out to show
the gentlemen of the town their dexterity in shooting. A clap board
with a mark the size of a dollar was put up; they began to fire
offhand, and the bystanders were surprised. Few shots were made that
were not close to, or into, the paper. When they had shot some time in
this way, some lay on their backs, some on their breasts or sides,
others ran twenty or thirty steps, and, firing as they ran, appeared
to be equally certain of the mark. With this performance the company
were more than satisfied, when a young man took up the board in his
hand, and not by the end, but by the side, and, holding it up, his
brother walked to the distance, and coolly shot into the white. Laying
down his rifle he took the board, and holding it as it was held
before, the second brother shot as the former had done.

"By this exhibition I was more astonished than pleased, but will you
believe me when I tell you that one of the men took the board, and
placing it between his legs, stood with his back to a tree, while
another drove the centre?

"What would a regular army of considerable strength in the forests of
America do with one thousand of these men, who want nothing to
preserve their health but water from the spring; with a little parched
corn (with what they can easily procure by hunting); and who, wrapped
in their blankets in the dead of night, would choose the shade of a
tree for their covering, and the earth for their bed?"

The descriptions we have quoted apply to the rifle companies of 1775,
but they are a good general description of the abilities of the
riflemen raised in the succeeding years of the war, many indeed being
the same men who first volunteered in 1775. In the possession of one
of his descendants is a letter from one of these men written many
years after the Revolution to the son of an old comrade in arms,
giving an account of that comrade's experiences during a part of the
war. The letter was written by Major Henry Bedinger of Berkeley
County, Virginia, to a son of General Samuel Finley.

Henry Bedinger was descended from an old German family. His
grandfather had emigrated to America from Alsace in 1737 to escape
persecution for his religious beliefs. The highest rank that Bedinger
attained in the War of the Revolution was that of captain. He was a
Knight of the Order of the Cincinnati, and he was, after the war, a
major of the militia of Berkeley County. The document in possession of
one of his descendants is undated, and appears to have been a rough
copy or draught of the original, which may now be in the keeping of
some one of the descendants of General Finley. We will give it almost
entire. Such family letters are, we need scarcely say, of great value
to all who are interested in historical research, supplying, as they
do, the necessary details which fill out and amplify the bare facts of
history, giving us a living picture of the times and events that they
describe.


PART OF A LETTER FROM MAJOR HENRY BEDINGER TO A SON OF GENERAL SAMUEL
FINLEY

"Some time in 1774 the late Gen'l Sam'l Finley Came to Martinsburg,
Berkeley County, Virginia, and engaged with the late Col'o John Morrow
to assist his brother, Charles Morrow, in the business of a retail
store.

"Mr. Finley continued in that employment until the spring of 1775, when
Congress called on the State of Virginia for two Complete Independent
Volunteer Companies of Riflemen of l00 Men each, to assist Gen'l
Washington in the Siege of Boston & to serve one year. Captains Hugh
Stephenson of Berkeley, & Daniel Morgan of Frederick were selected to
raise and command those companies, they being the first Regular troops
required to be raised in the State of Virginia for Continental
service.

"Captain Hugh Stephenson's rendezvous was Shepherd's Town (not
Martinsburg) and Captain Morgan's was Winchester. Great exertions were
made by each Captain to complete his company first, that merit might
be claimed on that account. Volunteers presented themselves in every
direction in the Vicinity of these Towns, none were received but young
men of Character, and of sufficient property to Clothe themselves
completely, find their own arms, and accoutrements, that is, an
approved Rifle, handsome shot pouch, and powder horn, blanket,
knapsack, with such decent clothing as should be prescribed, but which
was at first ordered to be only a Hunting shirt and pantaloons,
fringed on every edge and in Various ways.

"Our Company was raised in less than a week. Morgan had equal
success.--It was never decided which Company was first filled--

"These Companies being thus unexpectedly called for it was a difficult
task to obtain rifles of the quality required & we were detained at
Shepherds Town nearly six weeks before we could obtain such. Your
Father and some of his Bosom Companions were among the first
enrolled. My Brother, G. M. B., and myself, with many of our
Companions, soon joined to the amount of 100--no more could be
received. The Committee of Safety had appointed Wm Henshaw as 1st
Lieut., George Scott 2nd, and Thomas Hite as 3rd Lieut to this
Company, this latter however, declined accepting, and Abraham Shepherd
succeeded as 3d Lieut--all the rest Stood on an equal footing as
_Volunteers_--We remained at Shepherds Town untill the 16th July
before we could be Completely armed, notwithstanding the utmost
exertions. In the mean time your Father obtained from the gunsmith a
remarkable neat light rifle, the stock inlaid and ornamented with
silver, which he held, untill Compelled, as were all of us--to ground
our arms and surrender to the enemy on the evening of the 16th day of
November 1776.

"In our Company were many young men of Considerable fortune, & who
generally entered from patriotic motives ... Our time of service being
about to expire Captain Hugh Stephenson was commissioned a Colonel;
Moses Rawlings a Lieutenant Colonel, and Otho Williams Major, to raise
a Rifle Regiment for three years: four companies to be raised in
Virginia and four in Maryland.

"Henshaw and Scott chose to return home. Abraham Shepherd was
commissioned Captain, Sam'l Finley First Lieutenant, William Kelly
Second Lieutenant, and myself 3rd Lieutenant. The Commissions of the
Field Officers were dated the 8th July, 1776, & those of our Company
the 9th of the same month. Shepherd, Finley and myself were
dispatched to Berkeley to recruit and refill the old Company, which we
performed in about five weeks. Col'o Stephenson also returned to
Virginia to facilitate the raising the additional Companies. While
actively employed in August, 1776, he was taken sick, and in four days
died. The command of the Regiment devolved on Lieutenant Colonel Moses
Rawlings, a Very worthy and brave officer.

"Our Company being filled we Marched early in September to our
Rendezvous at Bergen. So soon as the Regiment was formed it was
ordered up the North River to the English Neighborhood, & in a short
time ordered to cross the River and assist in the defence of Fort
Washington, where were about three thousand men under the command of
Col'o Magaw, on New York Island. The enemy in the mean time possessed
New York, and had followed General Washington to the White Plains,
from whence, after several partial actions, he returned, and
approached us by the way of King's bridge, with a force of from 8 to
12000 Men. Several frigates ran up the Hudson from New York to cut off
our intercourse with Fort Lee, a fort on the opposite bank of the
North River: and by regular approaches invested us on all sides.

"On the 15th November, 1776, the British General Pattison appeared
with a flag near our Guards, demanding a surrender of Fort Washington
and the Garrison. Col'o Magaw replied he should defend it to the last
extremity. Pattison declared all was ready to storm the lines and
fort, we of course prepared for the Pending contest.

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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

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


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For Ralph Miliband governments could never tame capitalism. New Labour thought otherwise – and then came the financial crisis. But what will David or Ed do if they gain the leadership? By John Gray

Viewed from one angle Ralph Miliband was a theorist of revolution who failed to notice the radical transformations going on around him. A lifelong Marxist, he never doubted that the future would be shaped by the struggle against capitalism. In fact it was capitalism that proved to be the revolutionary force in the late 20th century, consigning socialism to the memory hole. By the time Miliband died in May 1994, the Soviet system had been replaced by a type of resource-based authoritarian capitalism, while China's Communist party was overseeing the development of an unbridled market of a kind that Milton Friedman could only dream about.

In Britain in the 1980s Miliband managed to convince himself that Labour, which he had always bitterly attacked, might, under the influence of Tony Benn, turn into a genuinely socialist party. In fact Labour split, which more than any other single factor enabled the continuing dominance of Thatcher. Probably only the battles fought by Neil Kinnock prevented Labour disintegrating altogether. When John Smith became leader, the party began the "prawn cocktail offensive", a rapprochement with the financial sector pursued through private lunches with leading City figures, which formed the prelude to New Labour. Only weeks after Smith died (in the same month as Miliband) the party would start burying any trace of its socialist past.

When he gave the Bennite wing his intellectual support, Miliband was colluding in the politics of make-believe. Yet in one vital respect this intractably oppositional Jewish refugee from nazism had a firmer grip on reality than the social democrats who eventually prevailed in Labour's internecine conflicts, and when he ridiculed Anthony Crosland's vision of a domesticated and pacified capitalism, he left the party with a dilemma it has not been able to resolve. Like Marx, Miliband understood that states and governments are never autonomous actors; their options are shaped, and often foreclosed, by the distribution of power and resources. This was the central theme of Miliband's The State in Capitalist Society (1969), a penetrating assault on social-democratic thinking in which he developed and extended the argument against revisionism of his earlier Parliamentary Socialism: A Study of the Politics of Labour (1961).

In The Future of Socialism (1956), Crosland had argued that Labour must distinguish between means and ends (a theme pursued later by Blair). Capitalism had changed fundamentally, and rather than opposing it Labour should use the market to advance socialist values. Properly managed to ensure steady economic growth, free markets could be used to promote an egalitarian society in which everyone could live the good life. Against this rosy vision, Miliband urged – rightly, I've always thought – that the world had not changed as much as Crosland and his fellow-revisionists imagined. Capitalism remained an unruly beast, and the idea that governments had learnt how to tame it was just an illusion.

The oil shocks of the 70s were an early warning of the fragility of the postwar order. The shocks were not fatal, and capitalism survived the crisis (as it will survive the present crisis, in one form or another). But it was already becoming apparent that while governments could withstand upheavals in the global economy, the state was not the directing agency social democrats imagined it to be. As Miliband saw it, the state was a servant of these forces rather than their potential master. Of course he exaggerated. The interests of capitalists are often at odds, and in any case politics is driven by far more than class conflict. Even so, Miliband's view that the state is constrained, reactive and hemmed in by market forces has become increasingly plausible with the passage of time. But if this is so, what role can there be for a party that aims to make capitalism a force for the collective good? Can a future Labour government succeed where past governments have failed and harness capitalism to a vision of social improvement? Or should Labour accept that it is capitalism itself that must be changed?

These are precisely the questions that face Miliband's sons as they contend for the Labour leadership. The clash between the two has an undeniable drama, and it is not just a matter of sibling rivalry. It occurs at a time when the world economy is in a crisis the founders of New Labour believed to be impossible. Lacking the Marxian insight that capitalism is inherently volatile and constantly mutating, they never doubted that the deregulated finance-capitalism that developed in the US towards the end of the past century would last. The left had to overcome its suspicion of the free market, and accept that only by exploiting its productivity could government improve society: social democracy and neo-liberal economics were actually complementary.

Just like Crosland, though without his Keynesian grasp of the dangers of recurring boom and bust, New Labour believed capitalism had been tamed. But as Ralph Miliband suspected and events have confirmed, the anarchic energy of the free market is not so easily controlled. The fall of communism was celebrated as a triumph of capitalism, which now became practically world-wide; but the effect was to make capitalism more unstable, as disturbances in one part of the system were rapidly transmitted to all the rest. The fragmented world of the cold war was more resilient to shocks, and also more hospitable to social democracy, than the world that ensued. Governments found that few of the levers they used to control the economy worked as they had before. New Labour did not want to control the market. A feature of the understanding it reached with the City was that financial markets would continue to be deregulated. In part this was accepted as the price for power, but it also reflected New Labour's Fukuyama-like faith that market capitalism was the final stage of economic development; the future lay with the self-regulating market.

As could be foreseen, things turned out rather differently. With regulatory controls relaxed or scrapped the financial institutions whose support Labour had wooed became predatory, raking in vast profits from strategies whose risks they did not understand. Inevitably this hubris led to their downfall, and the financial system imploded. The market millennium lasted hardly more than a decade, leaving a legacy of unsustainable debt.

The happy conjunction of neo-liberal economics with social democracy on which New Labour was founded is now history. This is the truth evaded in Tony Blair's autohagiography. If New Labour is obsolete it is not because of the personal defects of Gordon Brown, Blair's delusional moral certainty and incessant war-mongering or even the dysfunctional relationship between the two leaders. It is because American finance-capitalism, the model for virtually everything that New Labour ever did, has blown itself up.

The problem with the debate between the Milibands is not that it risks turning into a public family feud. It is that neither of the two contenders has come to terms with the bankruptcy of the New Labour project in which each of them was involved. Neither has acknowledged, or perhaps fully understood, the implications of the financial crisis for a future Labour government. It can only mean an erosion of the very foundations of Britain's social democratic inheritance. Yet in different ways, each of the Miliband brothers still sees government as capable of controlling market forces – the illusion their father presciently exposed.

In his Keir Hardie lecture in July, David Miliband spoke eloquently of moving away from state paternalism and reviving Labour traditions of mutualism. The state can no longer be the centre of knowledge and initiative – its function is rather that of empowering society. Top-down Fabian control must be replaced by open democratic relationships. No doubt these are desirable goals, if very much in the spirit of the prevailing conventional wisdom and perhaps not so different from Cameron's fluffy "big society". The larger difficulty is that Miliband is harking back to Crosland (whom he recently cited as his political hero) at a time when Crosland's thinking is no longer applicable.

Crosland's vision was based above all on economic growth – steady, continuing and robust. Following Keynes, he believed that wise economic management could create a society of abundance. But the effect of the financial crisis has been to curtail growth, at least in developed economies. Even if the economy recovers, governments will not have the largesse he assumed would be available. Bailing out the banks has passed the burden of debt on to the state, and no British government can expect to avoid large-scale cut-backs in borrowing and spending. Instead of the market generating wealth that could be used by governments for collective purposes, the resources of government have been pre-empted for the repayment of debts incurred by the market's excesses. Against this background, the post-paternalist state is likely to mean higher unemployment and cash-starved public services.

Unlike his brother, Ed Miliband has chosen to define his candidacy explicitly in terms of New Labour's failings and argues forcefully for the need to remodel capitalism. "Britain's big question of the next decade," he has written, "is whether we head towards an increasingly US-style capitalism – more unequal, more brutish, more unjust – or whether we can build a different model, a capitalism that works for people and not the other way around". Once again these are noble aspirations but far removed from reality. Globalisation is an idea that has been greatly over-hyped, yet governments' freedom of action has without question been reduced as capital has become more mobile. Even the US may soon find it difficult to fund its ballooning federal debt. But if American capitalism is entering a crisis zone, Britain will not have the luxury of forging a new economic model; it will have trouble just staying afloat. Ralph Miliband's pessimistic assessment of the future of social democracy could well be vindicated.

If one of the Miliband brothers wins the Labour leadership and becomes prime minister he will confront in an acute form the constraints on the power of the state his father astutely identified. Rather than controlling or reshaping capitalism, a Miliband government would find itself struggling to preserve Britain's social democratic inheritance in the face of capitalism's renewed disorder. Ralph Miliband seems never to have lost the Marxist faith that history would eventually open the way to a truly socialist society. He would surely have appreciated the curious dialectic through which it has fallen to his sons to defend the social democracy he so fiercely attacked.


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Booktrust teenage prize shortlist spans time, space and genre

It's the start of another school year and I'm dreaming of new pencil cases, satchels and the books I read in class. But what are the books you remember from your own school days?

Fourteen years after I finished school, there's still something about September which feels like the start of the year, and I'm nostalgic this morning for new pencils and felt tips, satchels and packed lunches. As the hope of the nation barrels back into classrooms, I'm also thinking back to the books I read in school.

I was away last weekend and talking about how we all read William Golding's Lord of the Flies (and no, the weekend wasn't that bad, it's just that one of my friends is currently making her way through his complete works, to settle a bet). I was 14, and I think there couldn't have been a more perfect book to pick for kids of that age – if you're not going to be hooked by Ralph and Piggy and Simon and Jack, and "kill the pig, cut his throat, spill his blood", then you're not going to be hooked by anything. This was the edition we had – just looking at it casts me back to yellow highlighters and doodling and the horrors of reading aloud.

Anyway, the shocking gloriousness of Lord of the Flies made me hungry for more Golding. Our school library was pretty small, but it did, impressively, have a copy of Pincher Martin. I am quite sure I failed to get any allegorical, existential meaning from the book, but it successfully terrified me, burning an image of Martin clinging to his lonely rock into my brain. In typically disorganised fashion, I promptly lost the book for about a month and was subsequently banned from the school library for giving it back so late – obviously as a sop to all those Golding fans clamouring for more of his work.

Golding and my thieving tendencies aside, Jane Eyre bored me, King Lear enthralled me, and I described Romeo and Juliet in my mock GSCE as a novel – so something clearly went wrong there (thankfully I'd got the right end of the stick by the time the real thing came around). But the other book which really stands out in my memory from schooldays is Wuthering Heights. I was on to A-levels by then, but for some reason we were still going through the purgatory of reading (droning) aloud in class – possibly one of the best ways to make a group of teenagers lose interest in a novel. I was lazy, more interested in messing around than working, but I was so caught up in the melodramas of Cathy and Heathcliff ("Do not leave me in this abyss where I cannot find you! Oh God! It is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!") that I'd be pages ahead when it came to my turn to read and would get in trouble for not concentrating. And I distinctly remember spending a break time racing to the end.

The rest of it, though, the years of English classes and essays, revising and exams, has largely faded into oblivion, which is rather worrying. But how about you? Indulge my nostalgia and tell me what you remember of your own literary school days.


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