Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Living with Ghosts
Part of the fun of doing one's family genealogy, is that you never know what you'll turn up. Like they say, it could be gold or ghosts.
In my case, it's a little of both. And no one exemplifies that very human contrast more than my grandmother's grandfather's grandfather, Arthur O'Neal--born in 1765 in Northern Ireland, and raised in a community of Irish immigrants around Belfast Township, South Carolina, where his father Shane ran an import/export shipping business from the docks in Georgetown.
Nine years after landing as a three-year-old child in Charleston, Arthur's first American adventure was as a scout for the French volunteers coming to the aid of the Revolutionary Army. In fact, his very first exploit was to assist a French vessel--anchored off his father's dock for supplies--in finding a safe landing. It was on this vessel that Arthur was to meet the now renowned Lafayette, who was soon after appointed Major-General by the Continental Congress, fighting alongside George Washington.
Shortly before the colonies were to become the United States, Arthur's father set up a trading post near Darlington, where he hired a Cherokee to instruct Arthur in their language. At age eighteen, Arthur struck out on his own to establish a post at Ross' Landing, Tennessee--deep in the heart of the southern Appalachias, where he lived and conducted trade with the Cherokee for several years.
After marrying and having a son, Arthur and Hannah moved back to South Carolina, had another son, and then headed out to Georgia, Alabama, and finally southern Mississippi where they remained. All the while, though, Arthur carried on his trade routes and business in the Cumberland and Blue Ridge and Smoky mountains, eventually becoming fluent in Creek and Choctaw, as well as his third tongue, Cherokee. Later--after supplying Andrew Jackson's troops in the War of 1812--Arthur was severely distraught by the ensuing Indian Wars in which many of his long-time Native American friends perished.
Without making Arthur a saint, for he--like many Southerners at the time--had African American slaves, it's still possible for me to admire his spirit of adventure, determination, and magnanimity toward the indigenous cultures he encountered in becoming an American.
It would take three more generations for the abominable institution to be eradicated, and many argue convincingly today that we've yet to make amends with the blacks and Native Americans for what transpired before, during, and after Arthur's life, but I like to think that were Arthur alive today, he would be at the forefront of a movement for meaningful reconciliation. And that's a ghost I can live with.
In my case, it's a little of both. And no one exemplifies that very human contrast more than my grandmother's grandfather's grandfather, Arthur O'Neal--born in 1765 in Northern Ireland, and raised in a community of Irish immigrants around Belfast Township, South Carolina, where his father Shane ran an import/export shipping business from the docks in Georgetown.
Nine years after landing as a three-year-old child in Charleston, Arthur's first American adventure was as a scout for the French volunteers coming to the aid of the Revolutionary Army. In fact, his very first exploit was to assist a French vessel--anchored off his father's dock for supplies--in finding a safe landing. It was on this vessel that Arthur was to meet the now renowned Lafayette, who was soon after appointed Major-General by the Continental Congress, fighting alongside George Washington.
Shortly before the colonies were to become the United States, Arthur's father set up a trading post near Darlington, where he hired a Cherokee to instruct Arthur in their language. At age eighteen, Arthur struck out on his own to establish a post at Ross' Landing, Tennessee--deep in the heart of the southern Appalachias, where he lived and conducted trade with the Cherokee for several years.
After marrying and having a son, Arthur and Hannah moved back to South Carolina, had another son, and then headed out to Georgia, Alabama, and finally southern Mississippi where they remained. All the while, though, Arthur carried on his trade routes and business in the Cumberland and Blue Ridge and Smoky mountains, eventually becoming fluent in Creek and Choctaw, as well as his third tongue, Cherokee. Later--after supplying Andrew Jackson's troops in the War of 1812--Arthur was severely distraught by the ensuing Indian Wars in which many of his long-time Native American friends perished.
Without making Arthur a saint, for he--like many Southerners at the time--had African American slaves, it's still possible for me to admire his spirit of adventure, determination, and magnanimity toward the indigenous cultures he encountered in becoming an American.
It would take three more generations for the abominable institution to be eradicated, and many argue convincingly today that we've yet to make amends with the blacks and Native Americans for what transpired before, during, and after Arthur's life, but I like to think that were Arthur alive today, he would be at the forefront of a movement for meaningful reconciliation. And that's a ghost I can live with.
