BRING THE JUBILEE by Ward Moore
INTRODUCTION
It is a never-ending source of entertaining discussion among those who are fascinated by the great events of history: "What if . . . ?" Throughout time, and the great events of Man, it has often been said that what has occurred was determined by the Fates. Or perhaps each decision that resulted in some great achievement, heroic and everlasting, in fact hinged on plain dumb luck.
Students of the Civil War often notice these peculiar and intriguing occurrences more readily than the historians from whom they learn, possibly because it is the job of the historian to ignore the "what if" and focus instead on what _was_. And often, the more endearing charms of history are pushed aside by these very students, in pursuit of a higher test score.
There have been countless debates on the outcome of significant events: What if . . . Stonewall Jackson had lived? Would his presence at Gettysburg have turned the tide in Lee's favor? Even those who were there at the time felt his absence. What of the "lost orders" of Lee, found by chance by scavenging Federal soldiers, who surely valued the cigars around which the papers were wrapped more than the papers themselves? Yet, at least one of them had the wisdom to show the papers to an officer, who in turn went to General McClellan. Thus was the Battle of Antietam fought at all.
But these are documented, discussed, and debated because the events were monumental, the results clear and defined. For each of these, how many were never discovered at all, never noticed in the mundane day-to-day lives of the anonymous soldiers and civilians? Even those, the insignificant events that no one ever sees, determine history. There is no sense of fate, or even luck, for the character who lives in the time, or perhaps well after the time; who exists in a world that has been made for him, in circumstances decided by others, and by events of long ago. That person simply lives in the world around him, absorbing what is there, what courses are open to him, what opportunities there may, or may not, be. For him or her, dwelling on what might have been is an exercise in frustration, because what _is_ was decided long ago, by events long forgotten, or long misunderstood.
Hodgins McCormick Backmaker is as unlikely a protagonist as you can find. He is born into a dismal time and a dismal place, created by the historical decisions of two generations prior. He lives in a world far different from our own, an age shaped by the outcome years earlier of the War of Southron Independence.
And the South _is_ independent. They won the war. And thus, the Southern states have prospered; a great many "what ifs" have gone their way. Hodge Backmaker spends his youth in the dismal decay of the North, a land void of prosperity, opportunity, and joy. And in this land, Hodge is clearly not a man who has exhibited great capacity, or even the inclination, to change his own fate. But to his credit, he will try to move beyond what has been decided _for_ him, to make some effort to seek something in a world in which he does not seem to fit.
If we believe we are here for a purpose, that each of us possesses a duty to perform in one certain way, one certain task, then how are we to understand what that task is? Are we ever to be aware if we have succeeded? And, if we do _not_ succeed, will anyone suffer but ourselves? Or, is the failure a success? Perhaps your grand purpose is _not_ to succeed. Churn these questions through your mind and find, as does our hero, that the answers are elusive at best, that the questions themselves may become destructive.
As we follow young Mr. Backmaker along his journey, we may learn that our curiosity, our attempt to understand our own path, may only be satisfied when the path is already behind us, when the deed is done. And what follows is a new path, one that may reach far beyond ourselves. It may be a path that changes all things, all history, and the lives of everyone yet to come.
Confusing? Possibly. But this is not a story of history; it is the personal tale of one young man, who may yet learn that the question is not "What if . . . ?" but "What if _I_ . . ."
Jeff Shaara
August 1996