I wrote a genealogical sketch for my 8th great-grandparents, Shubael and Hannah (Wilson) Seaver in Genealogical Sketch of the Shubael Seaver and Hannah (Wilson) Seaver Family of Roxbury, Massachusetts Bay Colony, based on the records found that document their lives. There is an AI-assisted biography in ABC Biography of Shubael Seaver (1640-1730) and Hannah (Wilson) Seaver (1646-1722) of Massachusetts based on the genealogical sketch.
I wondered what Shubael 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 Shubael 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:
A Memoir for My Grandchildren
As told by Shubael Seaver, Wheelwright of Roxbury
Winter, 1729
My dear grandchildren,
I am now in my ninetieth year, and as I sit by this fire in the house I have called home for so many years, I find my thoughts turning to the long road I have traveled. Your grandmother Hannah has been gone these eight years now, and I miss her companionship daily. You young ones who never knew her—she was a woman of remarkable patience and steady faith, and I was blessed beyond measure to have her by my side for fifty-three years.
I tell you these things now so that when I am gone, you will know something of where you came from and the world your grandfather knew.
The Early Years
I was born on the last day of January in the year 1640, here in Roxbury, when this settlement was barely ten years old. My father, Robert Seaver, had come from England, seeking to build a new life in this land where a man might worship God according to his conscience and own land of his own. He met my mother Elizabeth Ballard here,
I was their first child, and I can still remember my father's calloused hands teaching me to work wood, showing me how to read the grain, how to know which timber would hold and which would split. Six more children followed me—my brothers Caleb and Joshua, my sister Elizabeth, my brother Nathaniel, and two little sisters both named Hannah who the Lord took back to himself when they were yet small. Those losses marked my mother deeply, as you can well imagine.
Growing up in Roxbury in those days was different from the town you know now. There were far fewer houses, more forest, and the threat of Indian troubles was ever present in our minds. We children played in the woods but never strayed too far from home. We worked hard—there was no choice in that—but there was joy too. I remember the satisfaction of helping my father split rails, the taste of my mother's hasty pudding after a long day's work, the sound of psalm-singing on the Sabbath.
Learning My Trade
When I was but fourteen or fifteen years old, I was apprenticed to learn the wheelwright's trade. It was 1654 or thereabouts, and I spent my days learning to shape hubs and spokes, to set rims, to understand the mathematics of a wheel—for you see, children, a wheel must be perfectly round and perfectly balanced, or it will not roll true. A wagon wheel that is poorly made will break on the rocky roads, and a man whose wheel fails far from home may find himself in grave difficulty.
I learned to select the right wood for each purpose—white oak for the spokes, elm for the hubs where strength and resistance to splitting is needed, ash for the felloes that form the rim. I learned to heat and bend the iron tire that holds it all together, to shrink it onto the wheel while it is still hot so that it grips tight as it cools. It is exacting work, and I have bent my back over many a wheel these seventy-some years.
By the time I was seventeen, I was skilled enough that the town called upon me to help run the boundary lines between Roxbury and Boston, Cambridge, and Dedham. This was in January of 1657, and though it was cold work tramping through the snow, I was proud to be trusted with such responsibility. You see, in those days, every rod and perch of land had to be carefully measured and marked, for the boundaries determined which town would collect taxes and which would bear responsibilities.
When I was twenty-one, I received my first payment from the town for wheels—sixteen shillings. I remember that day well, for it meant I was truly established in my trade.
Marriage and Building a Life
In 1668, when I was twenty-eight years old, I married your grandmother Hannah Wilson. She was about twenty-one, a fine woman from a good Roxbury family. Her father Nathaniel Wilson was well-respected in the town, and her mother was Hannah Craft, from the Craft family that had been here since the early days.
The town had granted me land to build a shop for my work, near my father's property, and later another piece of land on the west side of Stony River near John Craft's dwelling. This second grant came in 1675, and I built my shop there and established my business properly. The town required that I build the shop within two years and relinquish my earlier land grants—everything had to be accounted for in those days, you understand.
Hannah and I were blessed with six children, though we had our sorrows too. Our firstborn was Robert, born in 1670. He was christened when he was nearly two years old, and I remember holding him in church that day, thinking what a fine strong boy he would grow to be. But Robert is not with us now, he died as a young man. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.
But then came Joseph in 1672 -- your grandfather, for many of you -- a good son who has made his home in Framingham and married Mary Read. He has been a blessing to me. Then Hannah in 1674, who waited these many years before marrying Patrick Gregory just five years ago. She was a dutiful daughter and remained at home to help care for us in our old age. Then Abigail in 1677, who married Edmund Cole the cordwainer -- they live nearby and have been good to us. Then young Shubael in 1679, who followed my trade and married Abigail Twelves. And finally Thankful in 1684, who married Richard Mowear.
It pleased me greatly when Abigail and Thankful both married on the same day in March of 1705—a double wedding! Your grandmother and I felt rich indeed to see two daughters well settled on the same day.
The Work of My Hands
For more than seventy years I have worked as a wheelwright here in Roxbury. I have made wheels beyond counting -- wheels for farm carts and gentlemen's carriages, wheels to carry grain to market and families to meeting. Each one must be made with care, for a man's life may depend upon it.
But I have done other work besides. In 1678, the town chose me as one of three men to make coffins for the year following. It is solemn work, making a coffin, knowing it will be someone's final resting place. I made coffins for Eliezer May and his wife and child in 1688 -- I was paid fifteen shillings, I recall. And in 1694, the town paid me for mending the country bridges. A wheelwright learns many skills with wood, you see, and the community calls upon us as needed.
For a time, from 1698 to 1700, I kept Sarah Parker in my home -- the town paid me about a pound per quarter for her maintenance and clothing. This was Christian duty, caring for those who cannot care for themselves. Your grandmother was patient with this arrangement, though it meant extra work for her.
The Business of Land
Throughout my life, I have bought and sold land as opportunity and necessity dictated. When my father died in 1683, I inherited the salt marsh -- good land that I have kept all these years and will leave to Joseph and young Shubael. But I have bought and sold many other parcels.
I once held land in Woodstock in Connecticut Colony -- forty acres in the third range. Many Roxbury men took up land there, hoping to expand our opportunities. But in time I sold it, for I found my heart and my business were here in Roxbury, and I had no desire to move at my age.
Some of the sales were necessary to raise money for this or that -- to help set up a son in business, to pay debts, to make improvements. In 1687, Hannah and I sold six acres called "Boston Field" to John Parker for sixteen pounds. In 1689, I sold twenty acres of pasture near Stony Brook for thirty pounds. In 1690, I sold the house I was dwelling in at that time to George Clark for twenty-five pounds -- we moved to another property, where we have remained these many years.
I have been careful in my dealings and honest in my measures. A man's word must be his bond, and a handshake must mean something. I have tried to live so that when my name is spoken in Roxbury after I am gone, men will say, "Old Shubael Seaver was an honest man."
Faith and Community
In 1674, my brother Caleb and I were admitted into membership of the First Church of Roxbury. Your grandmother had joined in 1671. This was an important step, for church membership meant full participation in the community of believers. We examined our hearts and gave testimony of our faith before the congregation. It is a day I remember well.
The Sabbath has always been sacred in our household. No work is done from Saturday evening until Monday morning, save what is necessary. We attend both the morning and afternoon services, and your grandmother -- God rest her soul -- was faithful in teaching the children their catechism.
I have seen much in my ninety years. I remember King Philip's War in the 1670s when we feared the Indians would overrun all the settlements. I remember the witch troubles in Salem in 1692 -- a dark time when fear ran wild and innocent people suffered. I remember when we lost our charter and when we gained a new one. Through it all, we have tried to keep faith and trust in God's providence.
Witness to History
Let me tell you something of what I witnessed in 1714, for it shows how we who are old serve as the memory of our community. I was seventy-five years old, and I was called to give testimony about a certain meadow in Dorchester -- Mather's meadow, it was called. I testified that upwards of fifty-five years before -- which would have been about 1659 when I was but nineteen -- I had mowed and made hay in that meadow on the north side of the Naponset River. I remembered it well, for I had done it in the three divisions there, and I remembered that William Curtis and William Hopkins of Roxbury possessed it then, and later Edward Morris.
You see, children, we old ones are the books in which the history of our towns is written. When disputes arise about who owned what land fifty or sixty years ago, it is we who remember. Guard your memories well, for someday you too will be called upon to witness what you have seen.
The Sorrow of Widowhood
In February of 1722, your grandmother Hannah died. She was seventy-three years old. We had been married for fifty-three years -- more than half a century! She was buried at the Eliot Burying Ground by our church, where I will soon lie beside her.
The house has been quiet without her. Oh, your Aunt Hannah has been here, and your parents visit, but it is not the same. When you have lived with someone for so long, their absence is like missing your right hand. I would wake in the night and reach for her, forgetting for a moment that she was gone. I would think of something to tell her and turn to speak, and find only emptiness.
But I do not complain. We were blessed with a long life together, with children who survived to adulthood and gave us grandchildren. Many couples are not so fortunate. I thank God for every year He gave us together.
My Final Arrangements
I am now making my final arrangements, as a prudent man should. I have no wish to leave confusion or conflict behind me. I have asked Edmund Weld Junior to hold my lands in trust, and after I am gone, he will help divide my estate among my children.
Joseph, as my eldest son, will receive a double portion, as is right and proper. He will have the dwelling house and part of the orchard, the barn across the highway, and half of the salt marsh. Hannah will have the rest of the orchard land -- she has earned it by her faithful care of her mother and me these many years. Abigail will have part of the pasture land by Whortleberry Hill. Young Shubael and Thankful will share the rest of the pasture land between them, and Shubael will have the other half of the salt marsh.
The personal estate -- my tools, the household goods, what little money there may be -- I am leaving to Hannah, for she has sacrificed much to care for us. My other children are well established and will not begrudge her this.
I have tried to be fair. I have tried to leave things in good order. A man should not burden his children with disorder and disputes.
Words for the Future
My dear grandchildren, I hope you will remember a few things your old grandfather has learned in his ninety years:
Work honestly. Whether you are a wheelwright or a farmer, a merchant or a minister, do your work well and honestly. A wheel poorly made is a danger; a trade dishonestly conducted is a shame. Let your work be something you can be proud of.
Keep faith. Trust in God's providence even when times are hard. We have seen wars and losses, sickness and death, but God has sustained us through it all. Keep the Sabbath holy. Teach your children their catechism. Be faithful in your church attendance.
Honor your parents. I have tried to honor my father's memory by living honestly and working hard. Honor your parents while they live, and honor their memory when they are gone. The fifth commandment promises long life to those who honor their father and mother, and I can testify that God has been faithful in this promise to me.
Be careful with land, but do not love it too much. Land provides for a family, but it can also divide families when greed enters in. I have bought and sold land as needed, but I have tried never to cheat anyone or grasp for more than was rightfully mine.
Care for one another. When Sarah Parker needed a home, we took her in. When your grandmother grew old and frail, your Aunt Hannah cared for her. When Edmund Cole needed land to establish himself, we helped him. We are all part of one body, and when one suffers, all suffer. Be generous when you can.
Remember where you came from. Your great-grandfather Robert came from England to build a new life in this wilderness. Your grandparents and your parents built homes and businesses and raised families in a rough new land. You have inherited their hard work and their faith. Honor that inheritance by living well and passing something good to your own children.
A Final Word
I am weary now, children. My hands, which have shaped so many wheels and built so many things, are stiff with age. My eyes, which once could see the tiniest flaw in a piece of wood, are dim. My back, bent over the workbench for seventy years, aches in the cold weather.
But I am content. I have lived a long life -- far longer than most men are granted. I have done honest work. I have raised a family. I have seen my children and grandchildren prosper. I have tried to serve my community and my God faithfully.
Soon I will lie beside your grandmother in the burying ground by the church. The same hands that made coffins for others have been measured for their own. But I do not fear death. It is but a doorway to the next life, where I trust through God's mercy to see your grandmother again, and my parents, and the children we lost along the way.
Remember your grandfather kindly. Remember that he tried to live honestly and work hard. And when you use the roads I helped maintain, or see a well-made wheel rolling past, think of old Shubael Seaver, wheelwright of Roxbury, who lived in this town for ninety years and tried to do his part.
May God bless and keep you all.
Your loving grandfather, Shubael Seaver
In my ninetieth year, in Roxbury, Massachusetts Bay Colony, in the winter of 1729, as I prepare to join those who have gone before.
3) The Google NotebookLM Video discussing Shubael Seaver's memoir is below:
4) I think that these relatively short memoirs are poignant and will be interesting to his descendants, and especially to me. This format provides a different perspective than a biography, doesn't it?
It is historical fiction, but many of the historical facts from the genealogical sketch are included and it rings true to me. These are thoughts and words that Shubael Seaver might have said late in his life if his children and grandchildren had asked him to reminisce. I hope that they did ask him at some point. Unfortunately, no stories about his life were passed down to me except for what can be gleaned from the records described in the genealogical sketch.
I will write more of these AI-assisted memoirs or life memories as told by my ancestors as time goes on. This is great genealogy fun for me!
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