Free Miracles and Massacres by Glenn Beck

everyone that their governor was the damnable crowned prince of chameleons. Instead, he sat stoically, refusing to give Randolph the satisfaction of seeing his anger and sense of betrayal.
    Across the room, a disheartened George Mason, Henry’s greatest ally in the hall, could not even bear to look at Randolph. A young Benedict Arnold , he thought, a young Arnold . The sixty-year-old Mason roused himself from his gloom to take the floor. Struggling to gather his thoughts, he ran his bony fingers through his long white hair.
    Mason was truly angry at Randolph, but he knew that personal attacks would get them nowhere right now. Instead, he aimed his fire onone of the Constitution’s more controversial new powers: the ability of the federal government to directly tax the people. “This power of laying direct taxes entirely changes the confederation into a consolidated government,” he said slowly and with near perfect enunciation. “Converting a confederation into a consolidated government is totally subversive of every principle which has heretofore governed us. It annihilates the state governments. Will the people submit to taxation by two different and distinct powers? The one will destroy the other: the states must give way to the general government.”
    Mason conceded that the Constitution had many fine points, but he told his fellow delegates that it required fine tuning—a Declaration of Rights, very much like the one Mason had authored for Virginia itself in June 1776. He felt these amendments were essential to the Constitution and he wanted them adopted before Virginia ratified, even if it meant risking the whole process being sent back to square one.
    Freedom, thought Mason, was worth spending the time to get right.
    Richmond, Virginia
    The Swan
    North side of Broad Street
    Evening of June 4, 1788
    James Madison had barely spoken during the day’s session, but the excitement had left him exhausted anyway. We are winning; that much was clear to him. Getting Randolph as an ally—even if he was in favor for amendments after ratification—was a huge coup for the Federalists.
    Madison retreated to his lodgings at the Swan, one of little Richmond’s better hostelries. Quarters were close so he had to be careful. The walls had ears, and worse, so did his fellow delegates.
    Some daylight remained as Madison picked up a quill pen and began drafting a letter to George Washington at Mount Vernon. He’d promised Washington that he would keep him updated on the proceedings. After a great first day, Madison was excited to relay the news. “Randolph has thrown himself fully into our scale,” he wrote. “Mason and Henry take different and awkward ground, and we are in the best spirits.”
    James Madison went to bed that night a very tired and very happy little man.
    Richmond, Virginia
    Theatre Square (“The New Academy”)
    Broad Street, between Twelfth and Fourteenth Streets
    June 5, 1788
    Patrick Henry did not know about Madison’s exuberant letter to Washington. If he had, he probably would have smiled, knowing that overconfidence and bravado were the anti-Federalists’ best friends. Henry, to paraphrase a phrase not yet uttered, had only just begun to fight.
    For now, however, it was still the Federalists’ turn. Judge Pendleton, the convention’s unanimously elected chairman, roused himself onto his crutches and made his way to the floor. Despite his judge’s wig, Pendleton didn’t look like much. Fast approaching sixty-seven, he coughed and gasped for air. But Pendleton was smart and respected, and Henry knew he was a worthy adversary.
    That opinion, however, did not appear to be mutual. Pendleton, his voice dripping with sarcasm, began by addressing Henry as his “worthy friend,” before curtly informing him that no natural enmity existed between constitutional government and liberty. “The former is the shield and protector