SURRENDERS are tricky things - just ask the British, who sulked dreadfully after losing the American war of independence. A British general, sent to concede defeat, tried surrendering to a French commander at George Washington's side. The Frenchman politely directed him to the Americans. Good manners could not disguise the brutal lesson being taught. This had not been a routine scrap between colonial powers. Britain had been fighting a new country, born against its wishes, and had now lost. Something of that mood of punitive lesson-giving hangs over budget talks between Barack Obama and congressional Republicans. Soon after Mr Obama's re-election, the speaker of the House of Representatives, John Boehner, offered a hefty concession, as both leaders worked to avoid a "fiscal cliff" of automatic tax rises and spending cuts at the year's end. Mr Boehner said his party would accept a rise in tax revenues (achieved by curbing deductions), if it was paired with spending cuts. Not long ago, some conservatives would have deemed that fiscal treason. But Mr Obama - fortified by opinion polls showing that most voters would blame Republicans if talks fail - is holding out for more. He wants Mr Boehner's party to agree that higher top-tax rates, not just revenues, are needed to fix the public finances. As the president flew to Michigan on December 10th to make his case at a campaign-style rally, a spokesman set explicit terms for a deal: Republican "acknowledgment and acceptance" that top tax rates for the rich are going to rise. That is a hard demand. Like the British at Yorktown, the Republicans are being invited to confront the full extent of their humbling. Since the days of Ronald Reagan, Republicans have told voters that high taxes on wealth-creators kill jobs, and tax cuts unleash growth. Now Mr Obama wants his opponents to acknowledge that soaking the rich is in the economy's interests. Yet Republicans have not walked away. Though Mr Boehner says he still opposes rate rises, a growing band of congress- and businessmen have given him cover for a climb-down, saying that their party should hold its nose and accept tax rises matched by Democratic guarantees to curb spending. Colleagues call the speaker a "dealmaker." He is a Merlot-sipping, golf-loving, heavy-smoking, pro-business Midwesterner, who uses the term "adult" as a high political compliment. Pragmatism puts him out on a limb among today's Republicans. But his troops are quiet. Optimists detect a new realism among Republicans, many of whom expected to take the White House and the Senate too. Instead, they merely held the House with a reduced majority, leaving them facing four more years of compromise. The same optimists point to the relative weakness of Mr Boehner's rivals. The Speaker recently kicked four serial rebels off prized committees. The standing of Eric Cantor - the second-ranked House Republican and a man of dizzying ambition - was diminished by a 2011 stand-off over America's legal debt ceiling, during which Mr Cantor seemed willing to take the country's sovereign credit hostage. That earned Mr Cantor a stinging presidential rebuke and hostile press coverage. As a Republican puts it: "Boehner turned out to be better at the politics of the debt ceiling." Paul Ryan, whose budget expertise and small-government zeal earned him a spot as Mitt Romney's vice-presidential running mate, has been playing what allies call a "deferential" role since returning to his old day job as a member of Congress. Mr Ryan, who remains chairman of the House budget committee, has accepted an invitation to attend the speaker's daily strategy meetings. Along with Mr Cantor he signed up to Mr Boehner's offer on tax revenues, dipping his hands in the same fiscal gore. Mr Ryan could yet speak out against a deal that raises tax rates, and such a verdict would weigh with House colleagues. But even admirers know that Mr Ryan faces new conflicts of interest. Should he shrug off defeat in 2012 and try for the presidency in 2016, his budget votes in the Republican-held House may have real-world fiscal consequences that could haunt him in the primaries. That may force Mr Ryan into the sort of trade-offs spared to his rivals, who enjoy the luxury of opposition in the Democratic-controlled Senate or who serve as state governors. Suddenly, the House's favourite policy wonk risks looking like another calculating politician. As for the rank-and-file, optimists concede that scores of Republicans, hailing from safe districts, are more frightened of primary challenges than the general election, giving them cause to oppose tax rises that core supporters will hate. Yet that does not have to doom the House speaker, it is argued. Lots of Republicans need to vote No to save their skins but would rather not see America fall over a fiscal cliff. If Mr Boehner lets them oppose a budget compromise while allowing a deal to go through with Democratic votes, many would be relieved. Not even insiders know how this will end Pessimists call that analysis too neat. Republican congressmen are a little like wounded animals just now, says one of their number: unpredictable. Do not assume that Mr Boehner could survive a deal opposed by lots of his own. Republicans have also splintered into myriad factions, making them hard to herd. Finally, even pragmatic Republicans think the worst of Mr Obama's push for tax-rate rises, which he says are needed to make deficit-reduction sums add up. They suspect a plot to split their party. Neither side wants blame for wrecking the economy, making a deal logical - if Mr Obama is serious about reforms to spending. But Mr Obama wants to teach Republicans a harsh lesson, making a deal hard. Back in 1781, stunned British troops supposedly played "The World Turned Upside Down" as they surrendered to their former colonial subjects. Republicans know the feeling.