Chapter 1 introduces the reader to the black geographies of New Granada in the eighteenth century, with the structure following the routes of African captives from the Caribbean region across to the mines of the Pacific. It explores how Caribbean New Granada was connected to Antioquia and the Pacific region by the mobilities of people of African descent and thereby offers an alternative geography of colonial Colombia that nuances traditional understandings of region in Colombian history. The chapter outlines the demographics of New Granada’s provinces, demonstrating the central importance of the jurisdiction’s black population to colonial history, and how New Granada was a society governed through slavery. Rivers and slave caravan routes that connected the Caribbean to the interior and the Pacific. Following an analysis of provenance zones of captives arriving in Cartagena de Indias, the chapter sketches the black geographies of the provinces of the Caribbean coastal cities of Cartagena de Indias and Santa Marta and their forested interior before casting its gaze across to the gold mines of southwestern Colombia. Elites ruled the region from temperate cities upon the backs of black and indigenous labourers.

In 1812, the courts were again thrust into the center of international conflict. Decades of resentment over British domination prompted the United States to embark upon what many Americans thought of as the nation’s “second war for independence.” It was one the United States was unprepared to fight. Longstanding distrust of permanent military establishments left the nation unable to counter British armed might, especially on the water. Privateers were a potential solution, but Congress and the Madison administration were unequal to the task of regulating the United States’ private navy. Responsibility fell to the judiciary, even though Jeffersonians had spent the previous decade attacking the courts for their supposed undermining of republican principles. As the revolutionary generation had learned, judicial enforcement of the laws of maritime war was critical to maintaining the nation’s international credibility. And the courts’ disposition of ships and goods captured by American privateers kept the nation’s war machine running. By marrying government authority to private enterprise, judges made it possible for the United States to reassert its standing as a sovereign and independent nation.

In 1788, John Marshall made a prediction that was more prescient than he realized: The federal courts the new Constitution called for would be “the means of preventing disputes with foreign nations.” Marshall could not have known it, but for the next several decades international disputes over persons, ships, and goods caught up in maritime war would wash onto American shores, and into federal courtrooms. The courts’ decisions were essential to the United States’ emergence as a sovereign and independent nation. But preoccupation with Marshall’s famous constitutional rulings has obscured this story of judicial nation-building at sea. And while we have grown accustomed to the idea that “foreign affairs” are the domain of the legislative and executive branches, the political leaders who first tried to solve the puzzle of constitutional governance did not hew to such rigid notions of institutional responsibility. If Marshall’s legacy is the establishment of both judicial and national authority, this book shows that he and his contemporaries did so, first and foremost, at sea.

Joseph Story thought that the United States needed more than courts to vindicate its independence in the War of 1812. The youngest justice on the Supreme Court also believed that the nation needed legal doctrines that would support its aspirations to global power. For decades, American policymakers – and especially the Court under John Marshall – had defended the rights of neutral nations to trade peaceably in wartime. That approach made sense when a militarily weak but commercially vigorous United States sought to profit from trade with European powers embroiled in conflict. But now that the United States itself was at war, Story envisioned a different national future, in which a robust military and strong central government were the foundation of American sovereignty. The split that emerged on the Court over neutral and belligerent rights reflected a generational divide over how to preserve and extend American independence, and it fractured the Marshall Court’s prior unanimity. Despite Marshall’s resistance, Story persuaded his colleagues to adopt doctrines that favored the rights of nations at war, pushing the courts – and the country – to assume a more assertive presence at sea.

The upbringing and professional career of Wu Jian (1462–1506) and his uncle, Wu Cong, shed light on two key issues. First is the gradual transformation of merit nobles within the Ming polity, particularly their role in dynastic defenses. Second is the dynasty’s continued efforts to secure military ability through instituting new practices, including the education and training of young merit nobles and entrusting capable civil officials with substantial military responsibilities. Before turning to Wu Jian’s career, however, we first consider the experiences of his mother and other women, whose abilities both in managing large, complex households and negotiating with the dynastic state, were essential to the fortunes of all merit noble families.

Americans understood the importance of establishing judicial authority over maritime war from the moment they began resisting British hegemony in the 1770s. The states’ unwillingness to prevent American seafarers from violating the rights of foreigners during the American Revolution provoked diplomatic controversies that undermined the drive for independence. After the war, supporters and skeptics of the new Constitution fiercely debated its creation of a federal judiciary. Anti-Federalist critics feared the centralizing and despotic tendencies of life-tenured judges who would be “subject to no control.” But even the “most bigotted idolizers of state authority,” Alexander Hamilton famously wrote in The Federalist, agreed that the federal courts should have exclusive authority over maritime cases. If Americans truly wanted a government that could fulfill the nation’s international obligations and maintain harmony with other sovereigns, they needed a judiciary with the power to resolve disputes arising at sea.

To say that the 1960s were a time of upheaval for Americans is, by now, a cliché. Yet for American Catholics in particular, the disruption was twofold. In addition to all of the profound social and political changes that one associates with “the Sixties,” Catholics found themselves faced with a Church that was undergoing a transformation. The Second Vatican Council, which one church historian has described as the “most significant religious event” in five centuries, begat striking alterations in the ancient Church. It was, according to another, “the defining event of the Catholic Sixties.” In the same year that the Council concluded – 1965 – President Lyndon Johnson decided to commit 200,000 troops to fight the war in Vietnam.

Recounting the experiences of Wu Ruyin and his son, Wu Weiying, who between them held the title of Marquis of Gongshun in succession from 1599 to 1643, this chapter and the preceding one address two overarching issues. First, they explore how institutions and administrators persevere amidst crisis. It may be tempting to caricature late Ming bureaucrats as obdurately clinging to the past, but men like Wu Ruyin and Wu Weiying adapted to new demands by incorporating new technologies and new ways within established frameworks. Few felt the need to abandon the “institutions of the imperial forefathers.” Second, these chapters examine the place of merit nobles in late Ming society. Wu Ruyin and Wu Weiying were not men of the people, but by function of their social circles, they actively engaged in the capital’s broader cultural activities, and by virtue of their jobs as senior military administrators, they commanded surprisingly detailed information about common soldiers and officers, war captives and refugees, and even rumors circulating through Beijing. This chapter first examines Wu Ruyin’s role as the emperor’s representative in ceremony, which included officiating at rituals, offering prayers, and hosting banquets, and second, considers his experiences as a military administrator in a time of acute challenges.