What Washington knew

"1776," McCullough writes, "was a year of all too few victories, of sustained suffering, disease, hunger, desertion, cowardice, disillusionment, defeat, terrible discouragement, and fear, ... but also of phenomenal courage, and bedrock devotion to country."

Since McCullough's appeal as a historian and writer is so widespread, it is a certainty that more Americans will read this book than were alive in 1776. [Ed. note: fewer than 4 million.] Indeed, is there anyone interested in our nation's history who has not heard his voice or read "John Adams," "Truman," "The Path Between The Seas," "Mornings on Horseback," etc.?

McCullough's writings dominate American history. Why?

In great measure it is because of his commitment to thorough research. Original sources are at the heart of all his books. He consistently reaches deep into archives and uses these sources to take us as close to the original events as we are ever likely to get.

His phenomenal success is also due to his skill as a writer. Some academics may whine as they see his books flying off the shelves of Barnes and Noble, when they can't even get space, but his grace and eloquence put their stale prose to shame.

Research and style are important, but there is something else.

What is truly remarkable about David McCullough is his eagerness as an author to allow the actors in the drama of history to speak for themselves. Too often historians are wont to write long paragraphs explaining what was said or written when the original words of the participants convey the historical experience far more directly and eloquently than any modern voice.

But to let documents speak, the historian must step back. This requires an act of modesty and humility often lacking.

During his research in the archives of the Massachusetts Historical Society, McCullough found a poignant letter. It is only one of many remarkable documents he unearthed during his research in more than two dozen libraries and archives.

On Christmas Eve, the very nadir of 1776, William "Billy" Tudor, an officer who had been with Washington since Boston, wrote to his wife to explain why in this dark hour he remained with the commander in chief:

"I cannot desert a man (and it would certainly be desertion in a court of honor) who has deserted everything to defend his country, and whose chief misfortune, among ten thousand others, is that a large part of it wants spirit to defend itself."

McCullough let Billy Tudor speak for himself.

Tudor's is only one of the many voices in this book that, thanks to McCullough, we can now hear. We should also listen, and take encouragement from the example of the soldiers who followed Washington in the year 1776.

• William M. Fowler Jr. is director of the Massachusetts Historical Society.

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