I wrote a genealogical sketch for my 9th great-grandparents, Robert and Elizabth (Ballard) Seaver in Robert Seaver (1608-1683) and Elizabeth (Ballard) Seaver (1616-1657) Family of England and Roxbury, Massachusetts Bay Colony, based on the records found that document their lives. There is an AI-assisted biography in ABC Biography of Robert Seaver (1608-1683) and Elizabeth (Ballard) Seaver (1616-1657) of Massachusetts Bay Colony based on the genealogical sketch.
I wondered what Robert Seaver might say in a life memoir to his children and grandchildren.
1) Based on the genealogical sketch, I requested Anthropic Claude Sonnet 4.5 to create a memoir written by Shubael Seaver (1640-1730) summarizing his life in 1729. The prompt was: "Please write a life memoir for Robert Seaver based on the attached genealogical sketch, as he might tell to his children and grandchildren in 1729."
2) The AI Anthropic Claude Sonnet 4.5 memoir (lightly edited for accuracy) is:
The Life and Times of Robert Seaver
A Memoir Told to My Grandchildren in the Winter of 1683
My dear grandchildren, gather close to the fire, for I am an old man now—near seventy-five years upon this earth—and my body grows weary though my mind remains clear by God's grace. I wish to tell you the story of how your family came to be in this place called Roxbury, and what I have witnessed in my long years.
The Old Country
I was born in England in the year 1608, in the time of King James, though I confess the exact date and place have grown dim in my memory after all these years. England was my home, the only world I knew as a boy. I grew to manhood there, learned my trade, and knew the ways of English life -- the villages, the fields, the ancient churches with their bells calling us to prayer.
But England in those days was a troubled place for those of us who wished to worship God according to our conscience. The church and the king demanded conformity, and many godly people felt their souls constrained. We heard tales of a New England across the great ocean, where men might worship freely and build a new society according to God's word.
The Crossing
In the spring of 1634, when I was about twenty-six years old, I made the decision that would shape all the days to come. On the 24th day of March, I stood in London and took the oaths of supremacy and allegiance, pledging my loyalty to the Crown even as I prepared to leave England's shores, perhaps forever.
I boarded the ship "Mary and John," with Robert Sayres as our master. Oh, children, you cannot imagine that crossing unless you have endured it yourself! The great ocean stretched endlessly in all directions, the ship rising and falling upon waves that seemed bent on our destruction. Many were sick, and we all wondered if we would see land again. We prayed daily for God's protection and sang psalms to keep our spirits strong.
But the Lord was merciful, and we reached Boston harbor safely. By June of 1634, I had settled here in Roxbury, a raw new town being carved from the wilderness. There were but a handful of families, and much work to be done.
Your Grandmother Elizabeth
It was in Roxbury that I met your grandmother Elizabeth Ballard—the finest woman I have ever known. She had come to New England in 1633, the year before me, arriving as a maid servant. But do not think less of her for that humble station! The church records say it true: she "led a godly conversation," meaning she lived with such piety and grace that all who knew her saw the light of Christ in her.
Elizabeth joined the church soon after her arrival, and I first noticed her at meeting. She had a quiet strength about her, a steadiness that drew me to her. We were married on the 10th of December, 1634, not six months after my arrival. I was young—barely twenty-six—and she was younger still, perhaps eighteen years old. We stood before the congregation and made our vows, and I thanked God for blessing me with such a helpmeet.
Building Our Home
Those early years were hard, children, harder than you can imagine in these more settled times. We had to clear land, build shelter, plant crops, all while learning to survive in this new country. The winters were fiercer than anything we had known in England, and the summers brought pests and diseases we had never encountered.
In 1635, the General Court declared that no dwelling house should be built more than half a mile from the meetinghouse -- they wanted us all clustered together for safety and fellowship. But I had already built my house further out, along with Jasper Gun, Abraham Howe, John Tatman, and Robert Sary. We petitioned the Court, and on the 23rd of May, 1639, they granted us leave to remain in our homes. I was glad of it, for I had worked hard on that property and it was beginning to feel like home.
By God's grace, I was made a freeman on the 18th of April, 1637. This meant I could vote and hold office, a privilege I have always valued. It meant the community saw me as a man of good character, worthy to have a voice in our governance.
The Children God Gave Us
Your grandmother Elizabeth and I were blessed with seven children, though the Lord saw fit to take two of them back to Himself while they were still tender young ones.
Our first child, Shubael, was born on the 31st of January, 1640. What joy filled our house that winter day! To hold our firstborn son and know that our family would continue in this New World -- it was a moment of pure thanksgiving.
Then came the twins, Caleb and Joshua, born together on the 30th of August, 1641. Two sons in one birth! Your grandmother Elizabeth was strong through that difficult delivery, and we praised God for the double blessing.
Our daughter Elizabeth arrived on the 19th of November, 1643, the only daughter who would live to womanhood. She married Samuel Craft, and I have been pleased with that match.
Nathaniel was born before the 8th of January, 1645, another son to help work the land and carry on the Seaver name.
Then came our first Hannah, born on the 14th of February, 1647. We had her christened that same day. But oh, my children, grief is the price we pay for love. Little Hannah lived only until the 3rd of June, 1648 -- barely one year upon this earth. Your grandmother and I wept bitter tears at her graveside.
We named our next daughter Hannah as well, born on the 13th of October, 1650, hoping perhaps to keep the name alive in our family. She was christened on the 23rd of October. But God's ways are mysterious, and this Hannah too was taken from us on the 3rd of February, 1654, when she was but three years old.
I tell you truly, there is no pain quite like burying your children. You expect that parents should die before their offspring, that this is the natural order of things. When it happens otherwise, a part of your heart is buried with them.
The Loss of Elizabeth
The year 1657 brought sorrow beyond measure. Your grandmother Elizabeth, my dear wife and the mother of my children, was taken ill. Despite our prayers and the physician's efforts, she died in the 4th month. I was forty-nine years old, and my Elizabeth was perhaps forty-one. We had been married for twenty-three years.
The church recorded her passing: "Sister Seaver, ye wife of Robert Seaver." Such simple words for such a profound loss. She had been my companion through all the struggles of building our life here, had borne seven children, had kept our home and raised our little ones. The house felt empty without her.
Your uncles Shubael, Caleb, and Joshua were grown by then, but Nathaniel was still young, and Elizabeth was only thirteen. I did my best to care for them, but a household needs a woman's hand.
Later Years and Marriages
In 1662, I married Sarah Burrell, a widow who had lost her own husband John. Sarah was a good woman, though she never could replace your grandmother Elizabeth in my heart. We had no children together. Sadly, Sarah died on the 18th of December, 1669, at fifty-nine years of age. I laid another wife to rest.
Some years later, I married again—a man grows lonely, and a household needs tending. My current wife has been a comfort in these latter years, though I will not burden you with comparisons. Each season of life brings its own blessings.
My Work in the Community
I have tried to serve Roxbury faithfully across these many years. In 1655, I served as constable, collecting the country rates—thirty-four pounds, eleven shillings, and threepence, which I accounted for properly. In 1663, I was chosen as a bayly, receiving my orders from the selectmen. And in 1665, I had the honor of being elected as one of five selectmen of Roxbury—a responsibility I took most seriously.
I have maintained the bridges to Dedham and Cambridge, hauled supplies for the town, provided wood for the military watch during times of danger. These may seem like small things, but a community is built through such daily faithfulness.
Over the years, I have accumulated a fair amount of property—my house and lot here, various parcels of land totaling more than sixty acres, salt marsh for hay, pasture land including that spot we call Huckleberry Hill. In 1651, I joined with others to purchase marsh land from Captain Hugh Pritchard's estate, good land that will serve this family well.
Trials by Fire
I must tell you of two fires that tested our family, for you should know that God sometimes refines us through tribulation.
On the 28th of October, 1667, just before dawn broke, thunder and lightning struck during a fierce storm. A great bolt hit one of my haycocks—four loads of hay, carefully stacked—and set it ablaze. We watched helplessly as months of labor burned. But we thanked God that the fire spread no further.
Then, on the 7th of October, 1673—a date I shall not forget—disaster struck closer. It was about seven o'clock at night. A maid went up to the chamber to tend the cheeses we had stored there. Somehow, her candle lit the thatch of the roof. Before we knew what was happening, flames were spreading across the top of the house.
We rushed to save what we could. Neighbors came running at our shouts. By God's mercy and the quick action of many hands, we saved much of our belongings, and the barn was spared. But the house—the house I had lived in for so many years, where your grandmother Elizabeth had kept our home, where our children had been born -- burned to the ground.
I was sixty-five years old when I had to rebuild. Many men my age would have given up or moved in with their children. But I was not ready to surrender. We built again, and here I sit today in that rebuilt house, telling you this story.
King Philip's War and Nathaniel
The mid-1670s brought war to New England—what men are calling King Philip's War, after the Wampanoag sachem Metacomet, whom the English called Philip. It was a terrible conflict, with attacks on settlements throughout the colony. Many good men took up arms to defend their homes and families.
Though I was nearly seventy years old, I joined others in the colony's defense. Old bones or no, when your community needs you, you stand up. But the war cost our family dearly.
Your uncle Nathaniel, my son -- a good man, strong and faithful -- was killed by Indians at Sudbury on the 21st of April, 1676. I received the news like a blow to my chest. A father should not outlive his children, yet I have buried three of my seven.
Nathaniel left behind his widow Sarah and a young son, John -- your cousin. I have remembered John in my will, for the boy lost his father too young, and I would see him provided for when he comes to marry.
I tell you this not to make you fearful, but so you understand the cost of building this new land. Freedom and safety are bought with sacrifice.
Looking Back, Looking Forward
Children, I am old now. My body aches, and I tire easily. I have recently written my will, for I know my time grows short and I would leave my affairs in order. I have provided for my wife and divided my property among your parents -- Shubael, Caleb, Joshua, and Elizabeth -- as fairly as I know how.
When I think back over my seventy-five years, I am struck by how different my life has been from what I might have imagined as a boy in England. I crossed an ocean, built a home in wilderness, raised children, buried loved ones, served my community, survived fires and wars.
But I would not change my choice to come to this New England. Here, we have worshiped God according to our conscience. Here, we have built a community of faith. Here, your parents have thrived and you children are growing up with opportunities we never had in the old country.
This land is in your blood now, children. You are not English in the way I was—you are something new, shaped by this wilderness and by the faith that brought us here. When I am gone, remember that your roots cross the ocean, but your future is here in this New World.
Work hard. Serve your community. Keep your faith. Be kind to your neighbors. Honor your parents. And when you are old and gray like your grandfather, gather your own grandchildren and tell them the story of how we came here, so that they will know from whence they came.
May God bless you and keep you all the days of your lives.
Your grandfather, Robert Seaver Roxbury, Massachusetts Bay Colony Winter, 1683
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Links to my blog posts about using Artificial Intelligence are on my Randy's AI and Genealogy page. Links to AI information and articles about Artificial Intelligence in Genealogy by other genealogists are on my AI and Genealogy Compendium page.
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