History is an uncertain science, at best.

Much of it is outright lies and balderdash. For example, Napoleon looked at history as “a set of lies agreed upon.” Does it matter that he stole most of that line from Voltaire, who suggested, “History is a lie commonly agreed upon?”

George Santayana harbored significant doubts about the entire field, telling friends, “History is a pack of lies about events that never happened told by people who weren’t there.”

Too much of history rests on the memories of old men, old men whose minds have grown soft. Even the best men have doubts and question themselves as time goes by. They question the history books.

Fifty years after signing the Declaration of Independence, John Adams wrote Thomas Jefferson, wondering, “Who shall write the history of the American Revolution? Who can write it? Who will ever be able to write it?”

Take, for example, the Declaration of Independence. The proceedings of congress were held behind closed doors. No records were kept. With the death of each member of congress, more of the story was lost. And the recollections that surfaced were suspect.

John Adams thought the published version of John Dickinson’s speech against the Declaration was entirely unlike the one he heard that day. Thomas Jefferson questioned the claim that Samuel Chase was the first to suggest independence. He asked Adams, “do you remember anything of this? I do not.”

If the two leading committee members tasked to oversee the Declaration of Independence questioned how it came about, how much of its history can we believe?