Two and a half centuries after the American Revolution the United States stands as one of the greatest powers on earth and the undoubted leader of the western hemisphere. This stupendous evolution was far from a foregone conclusion at independence. The conquest of the North American continent required violence, suffering, and bloodshed. It also required the creation of a national government strong enough to go to war against, and acquire territory from, its North American rivals. In A Hercules in the Cradle, Max M. Edling argues that the federal government’s abilities to tax and to borrow money, developed in the early years of the republic, were critical to the young nation’s ability to wage war and expand its territory. He traces the growth of this capacity from the time of the founding to the aftermath of the Civil War, including the funding of the War of 1812 and the Mexican War. Edling maintains that the Founding Fathers clearly understood the connection between public finance and power: a well-managed public debt was a key part of every modern state. Creating a debt would always be a delicate and contentious matter in the American context, however, and statesmen of all persuasions tried to pay down the national debt in times of peace. A Hercules in the Cradle explores the origin and evolution of American public finance and shows how the nation’s rise to great-power status in the nineteenth century rested on its ability to go into debt.

"Olson contends that attention to the visual images created in each of these roles dramatizes fundamental changes in Franklin's sensibility concerning British America. In 1754 Franklin was an American Whig supporter of the British Empire's constitutional monarchy. During the late 1750s and early 1760s he veered toward increasing the power of the Crown over Pennsylvania by changing the colony's form of government before ultimately rejecting constitutional monarchy and advocating republican politics during the 1770s and 1780s. The shifts in Franklin's fundamental political commitments are among the most arresting aspects of his life. Benjamin Franklin's Vision of American Community highlights these changes as it examines his pictorial representations of British America through several decades."--BOOK JACKET.

In this elegant collection, Donald R. Hickey and Connie D. Clark bring together enlightening, important, and amusing selections from Hamilton's speeches, published writings and personal letters. As we come to understand his thoughts on subjects as diverse as the Constitution, love, war, liberty and honor, we find that his words are often as applicable in our own time as they were in his.

George Washington had Alexander Hamilton. Thomas Jefferson had Albert Gallatin. From internationally known tax expert and former Supreme Court law clerk Gregory May comes this long overdue biography of the remarkable immigrant who launched the fiscal policies that shaped the early Republic and the future of American politics. Not Alexander Hamilton---Albert Gallatin. To this day, the fight over fiscal policy lies at the center of American politics. Jefferson's champion in that fight was Albert Gallatin---a Swiss immigrant who served as Treasury Secretary for twelve years because he was the only man in Jefferson's party who understood finance well enough to reform Alexander Hamilton's system. A look at Gallatin's work---repealing internal taxes, restraining government spending, and repaying public debt---puts our current federal fiscal problems in perspective. The Jefferson Administration's enduring achievement was to contain the federal government by restraining its fiscal power. This was Gallatin's work. It set the pattern for federal finance until the Civil War, and it created a culture of fiscal responsibility that survived well into the twentieth century.

An international group of scholars working in early modern English literature and culture have been invited to reflect upon one of the most dynamic dialectics of the period: the opposition between the concept “human, humanist, humanism” versus the concept “barbarous, barbarian, barbarism.” The result is Writing the Other: Humanism versus Barbarism in Tudor England. The essays in this volume range widely across the literary and cultural field mapped out by this opposition, thus revealing a rich multiplicity of voices and approaches to one of the fundamental processes by which self-fashioning and also “other-fashioning” operated during the Tudor reign. The focus moves from England to North Africa, to Hungary and to the New World in its panoramic display of the vast theatre in which identities were forged. The volume as a whole demonstrates how the cultural OtherOther was as much invented as described—“forged” in the sense, perhaps, of “counterfeited” —during the early modern and especially the Tudor period. This invention occasionally led to the demonisation of the object of its gaze, at other times its rehumanisation; sometimes we may detect evidence of a painful act of distortion, and at others we see the purposeful and profitable creation of a self-identityidentity with an eye on the rhetorical, religious, poetic, national expectations of the readers in the new context of print culture. But everywhere we witness the remarkable energy and fertility of the primary opposition which gives this collection its central theme.

Ivan Chonkin is a simple, bumbling peasant who has been drafted into the Red Army. Shortly before the outbreak of World War II, he is sent to an obscure village with one week's ration of canned meat and orders to guard a downed plane. Apparently forgotten by his unit, Chonkin resumes his life as a peasant and passes the war peacefully tending the village postmistress's garden. Just after the German invasion, the secret police discover this mysterious soldier lurking behind the front line. Their pursuit of Chonkin and his determined resistance lead to wild skirmishes and slapstick encounters. Vladimir Voinovich's hilarious satire ridicules everything that was sacred in the Soviet Union, from agricultural reform to the Red Army to Stalin, in a refreshing combination of dissident conscience and universal humor.