Miracles and Massacres by Glenn Beck

wrote. “The business is in the most ticklish state that can be imagined. The majority will certainly be small, on whatever side it may finally lie; and I dare not encourage much expectation that it will be on the favorable side.”
    James Madison sealed the letter and collapsed into bed. He was exhausted, but sleep came only in fits and starts. When he did drift away, he dreamt only of defeat.
    Theatre Square (“The New Academy”)
    Broad Street, between Twelfth and Fourteenth Streets
    Richmond, Virginia
    June 24, 1788
    A thousand sweating, jostling spectators crammed the galleries. One way or another they would soon witness history being made. The time for talk was drawing to a close; the time for voting was drawing near.
    First, however, Patrick Henry was about to drop another bombshell onto the convention. He rose and surprised everyone by presenting a series of amendments. He’d gone from opposing the entire Constitution and arguing against nearly every facet of it in great detail, to now suddenly accepting George Mason’s position: ratification, but with amendments and a Bill of Rights. Some delegates wondered if that had, in fact, been Henry’s position all along. Had he and Mason merely been playing a clever, protracted game of “Good Constable, Bad Constable”?
    James Madison, who had been oddly quiet for the last few days, now rose in an effort to reframe their duty as one of world-changing significance. “Nothing has excited more admiration in the world,” he began, “than the manner in which free governments have been established in America.” But there was more work to be done. State governmentswere one thing, but if America could craft a well-functioning federal system then they would turn even more heads.
    Turning to the debate at hand—the issue of amending the Constitution before or after ratification—Madison appealed to both common sense and fear. He explained that if the anti-Federalists were to win, the other nine states that had already ratified would have to reopen their conventions to address the new amendments. Anything could happen at those new conventions—from new amendments proposed to votes being changed. The entire process, Madison told them, could be derailed by Virginia’s stubbornness.
    Then, perhaps playing a game of “Good Constable, Bad Constable” himself, Madison offered an olive branch to Patrick Henry. “His proposed amendments could be subsequently recommended,” he told the crowd, “not because they are necessary, but because they can produce no possible danger, and may gratify some Gentlemen’s wishes. But I can never consent to his previous amendments because they are pregnant with awful dangers.”
    Henry fumed. These amendments aren’t necessary? he thought, his face crimson with rage. Freedom of religion is not necessary? Trial by jury is not necessary? The right to bear arms is not necessary? If a Declaration of Rights is necessary in enlightened Virginia, how much more vital is it in the mighty consolidated government these Federalists have cooked up for us?
    â€œMadison,” he bellowed, his voice drawing out the name into three very distinct syllables, “tells you of the important blessings which he imagines will result to us and to mankind from this system. I see the awful immensity of the dangers with which it is pregnant. I see it. I feel it.” Henry’s voice rose higher and higher. “I see beings of a higher order anxious concerning our decision. We have it in our power to secure the happiness of one half of the human race. Its adoption may involve the misery of the other hemisphere.”
    And, suddenly, those “higher beings” seemed to personally invade the debate. A distant thunder drew near, and then cracked close by. The skies grew black, then bright white as lightning streaked through overhead. The storm seemed to want to sever the