I wrote an AI-assisted ABC biography for my 5th great-grandfather John Kemp (1723-1795) in ABC Biography of United Empire Loyalist John Kemp (1723-1795) and His Wife Anna (Van Vorst) Kemp (1732-1789) of New York and Upper Canada based on my genealogical research over 38 years.
I wondered what John Kemp might say in a life memoir told to his grandchildren in 1794.
(AI Google NotebookLM Infographic for John Kemp's memories)
1) I requested Anthropic Claude Sonnet 4.5 to create a memoir told by John Kemp about his life in 1794. The prompt was: "Please write a life memoir for John Kemp. based on the attached biography, as he might tell to his grandchildren in 1794."
2) The AI Anthropic Claude Sonnet 4.5 memoir (edited for accuracy and completeness) is:
My Life Story, as Told to My Grandchildren
By John Kemp, Fredericksburgh, Upper Canada, 1794
My dear grandchildren, gather close to the fire this cold winter
evening. Your grandfather is now past seventy years, and though my
memories of the distant past grow hazy, there are stories I must tell
you before I join your dear grandmother Anna in the churchyard. You
deserve to know where you come from and how we came to this place.
The Early Years: A Life Before Memory
I was born in the year 1723, though I cannot tell you much of my
earliest years with any certainty. The truth is, children, that some
parts of a man's past are like morning mist—present once, but
dissolved by the sun of time. What I can tell you is that by the time
I was a young man, I found myself a soldier in the King's service
during the French and Indian Wars. Those were dangerous times, with
the French and their Indian allies threatening the colonies from the
north and west.
The life of a soldier is hard—constant marching, poor rations,
and the ever-present threat of death in the wilderness. But it was an
honest living, and it taught me discipline and loyalty to my King. It
was this service that eventually brought me to the colony of New
York, to the valley of the Mohawk River, where my true life would
begin.
Finding Home and Love in Schenectady
By 1759 or thereabouts, I had settled in Schenectady, a town along
the Mohawk River where Dutch and English settlers lived side by side.
It was there, children, that I met the woman who would change my life
forever—your grandmother, Anna Van Vorst.
Anna was a widow when we met, having lost her first husband,
Nicolaas Van der Bogart. She came from good Dutch stock, the Van
Vorst family being well-known and respected in Schenectady. Her
father was Jacobus Jillise Van Vorst, and she had been raised in the
Dutch Reformed Church, baptized there as an infant in 1732.
I'll never forget the first time I saw her—a strong woman with
kind eyes and a practical manner about her. She had already known
sorrow, losing her first husband, and perhaps that made her
appreciate the second chance at happiness we found together. We
married around 1759, and though I was an Englishman marrying into a
Dutch family, her relatives welcomed me with surprising warmth.
Anna brought a stepson, Francis Van der Bogart, into our marriage,
and I raised him as my own. Soon enough, we were blessed with
children of our own.
Building a Family
Joseph was born first, in 1761, and we had him baptized at the
First Dutch Reformed Church, as was Anna's custom. I remember how
small he was in my rough soldier's hands, and how I marveled that
Anna and I had created this new life together.
Then came James—we called him Jacobus in the Dutch way to please
Anna's family—in 1763. He was a spirited boy, always getting into
mischief! Rachel followed in 1767, a sweet girl who brought such joy
to our household. And finally, in 1768, we were blessed with two more
children: John, born in March, and Nancy Anna.
Those years in Schenectady were good ones. I worked hard to
provide for my growing family, and we attended both the Anglican and
Reformed churches. The town was a lively place, with farmers bringing
their goods to market, traders heading west toward the frontier, and
always the sound of different languages—Dutch, English, German, and
sometimes the native tongues of the Indians who came to trade.
The Move to Ballston
By 1772, we had moved to Guilford township in the district of
Ballston, in Saratoga County. The land there was good for farming,
and I was able to provide well enough for Anna and our children—eight
souls in all under our roof. The tax collector knew me as "John
Camp"—people had trouble with my name, spelling it different
ways: Kemp, Kempe, Camp, Camps. I answered to them all!
Life was peaceful then. We worked the land, raised our children,
attended church, and lived as loyal subjects of King George III.
Little did we know that storm clouds were gathering that would tear
our world apart.
The Coming of the Revolution
You children are too young to remember the years before the war,
but let me tell you—it was neighbor turning against neighbor,
brother against brother. The rebels talked of "liberty" and
"independence," but what they really wanted was to break
their sacred oath to the King and throw the colonies into chaos.
Your grandmother and I talked long into many nights about what we
should do. Some of our neighbors joined the rebel cause. But I had
served the King in my youth, and I had sworn an oath of loyalty. A
man's word is his bond, children. Remember that always. I could not
break my oath, no matter the cost.
When the war came in earnest, I knew our family would have to make
a choice. In 1780, though I was fifty-seven years old—an age when
most men sit by the fire—I enlisted once more in the King's
service. I joined Captain Samuel Hayden's Company of the King's
Rangers under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Robert Rogers.
A Soldier Once More
They measured me when I enlisted: five feet and five inches tall,
which was about average for a man of my generation. I served as a
Private, which suited me fine. I had no ambitions for rank or
glory—only to do my duty.
For two years, I was stationed in and around New York City, which
the King's forces held throughout the war. It was strange to be a
soldier again after so many years, but the old discipline came back.
I did my duty, stood my watches, and thought often of Anna and the
younger children back home.
By January of 1783, we knew that the war was lost. The rebels,
with French help, had defeated the King's armies. But we had kept our
honor and our loyalty intact, and that was worth more than any
victory. I went north to St. John's on the Richelieu River in Quebec.
And there, children, I had the great joy of being reunited with sons
Joseph and James, who had both enlisted in the King's Rangers as
well. My stepson Francis was there too. To see my sons grown into
men, wearing the King's uniform—it filled my heart with both pride
and sorrow. Pride that they had followed their father's example of
loyalty, and sorrow that we lived in times that demanded such
sacrifices.
The Great Exodus
When the King's Rangers disbanded at Cataraqui in October of 1784,
your grandmother and I faced an impossible situation. We could not
return to our home in New York—the rebels had confiscated the lands
of Loyalists, and some of our neighbors would have seen us hanged as
traitors. Everything we had built over twenty-five years was lost.
But King George III, God bless him, did not forget those who had
remained loyal. He granted us land here in Upper Canada and gave us
the honored title of United Empire Loyalists. Each member of our
family received two hundred acres of free land. We were refugees,
children, but we were not abandoned.
Building a New Life in the Wilderness
I'll not lie to you—those first years here in Fredericksburgh
were the hardest of my life. I was over sixty years old, starting
completely anew in the wilderness. We had to clear the land, build a
cabin, plant crops, and somehow survive the brutal Canadian winters.
The government provided us with some supplies—we were on what they
called the Provision List—but mostly we had to rely on our own
strength and the help of our fellow Loyalists.
Your grandmother Anna was a tower of strength during those years.
She never complained, though I know she missed her family and the
comfortable life we had known in Schenectady and Ballston. She worked
alongside me from dawn to dusk, and when I was discouraged, she
reminded me that we still had each other and our children.
Joseph had married Catherine Bovee in 1787, and it did my heart
good to see them starting their own family. We were building
something here, not just farms, but a whole new society based on
loyalty to the Crown and the rule of law.
The Darkest Day
In July of 1789, the worst thing that could happen to a man befell
me. Your grandmother Anna took ill and died. We buried her on the
fifteenth of July, here in Fredericksburgh.
Children, I have faced bullets in battle, I have endured hunger
and cold, I have lost my home and started over in the wilderness, but
nothing—nothing—compared to the pain of losing your grandmother.
She was fifty-six years old, and we had been married for thirty
years. She was the best part of me.
These past five years without her have been lonely ones. I wake
each morning and for a moment forget she's gone, and then the loss
strikes me anew. But I carry on, as she would have wanted. I see her
in your faces, in your father's kindness, in your Aunt Nancy's
practical nature. She lives on in all of you.
The Life I've Built
I've continued farming here on Concession 4, Lot 2, sharing the
land with my neighbor Oliver Church. I've served on the Land Board of
Mecklenburgh in 1790 and again in 1793, trying to help other settlers
get established. I've petitioned for additional land in Richmond
Township—not for myself, for I'm too old to work much more land—but
for you children and grandchildren, so you'll have something to build
on.
I attend the Anglican Church when I can, and sometimes the
Reformed Church too, for it reminds me of your grandmother. The
community here in Fredericksburgh is growing. We have neighbors now,
other Loyalist families who understand what we sacrificed and why.
Lessons for My Grandchildren
As I sit here in 1794, past seventy years of age, with my joints
aching from the cold and my memories growing dim, I want to leave you
with some wisdom earned through a long and eventful life.
First, keep your word. A man's oath is sacred. I gave my oath to
the King, and though it cost me everything, I kept it. You may not
always be rewarded for your integrity in this life, but you will be
able to look at yourself in the mirror.
Second, marry well. Choose a partner who is strong, kind, and
loyal. Your grandmother Anna was all of these things. A good spouse
makes life's burdens lighter and its joys sweeter.
Third, family is everything. When we lost our home and had to flee
to Canada, we at least had each other. Your father and uncles fought
alongside me in the war. We built this new life together. Blood is
thicker than water, children. Remember that.
Fourth, be willing to start over when necessary. I was sixty years
old when we came here, and I built a new life from nothing. Never
think you're too old to begin again or that circumstances have
defeated you. Where there's life, there's hope.
Fifth, respect the land and work hard. This soil we farm here in
Upper Canada is good soil, but it yields its bounty only to those
willing to labor for it. Nothing worthwhile comes easy.
My Hope for the Future
I don't expect I have much time left in this world. My body is
wearing out, and I'll be honest with you—I'm ready to see your
grandmother again. But before I go, I want you to know how proud I am
of this family.
Look at what we've built here! Joseph has his own farm and family.
James married that lovely girl Phoebe Van Siclen just a few years
ago. John is preparing to marry Mary Dafoe. Nancy is happily married
to Abraham Loucks. Even Rachel, though her health is fragile, brings
joy to everyone around her.
We came here as refugees with nothing but the clothes on our backs
and the King's promise of land. Now we are established settlers,
United Empire Loyalists, founding families of Upper Canada. Our
children and grandchildren will grow up as British subjects in a land
of opportunity and order.
This land we live in—this Upper Canada—will be something great
someday. It's being built by people like us, people who sacrificed
everything for their principles. You should be proud of that
heritage. When people ask who you are, you tell them: "I am a
descendant of John and Anna Kemp, United Empire Loyalists, who gave
up everything to keep their oath to the King."
A Final Word
My dear grandchildren, as the fire burns low and the winter wind
howls outside our cabin, I must bring this story to a close. These
old bones need rest, and there's work to be done come morning—there's
always work to be done.
Remember your grandfather and grandmother not as perfect people,
for we weren't, but as people who tried to do right as we understood
it. We lived through extraordinary times, made difficult choices, and
never gave up hope even when everything seemed lost.
You are the fruit of our labor and our love. You carry within you
the blood of the Van Vorsts of Schenectady and the Kemps of New York.
You are Dutch and English, New Yorkers and Canadians, Americans who
chose to remain British. You are the children of two worlds, and that
makes you strong.
Live good lives. Be honest. Work hard. Love deeply. Keep faith
with God and King. And sometimes, when the winter wind blows cold,
think of your old grandfather and grandmother, and remember that you
come from people who knew how to endure.
May God bless you all, my children. May you prosper in this good
land. And may you never forget where you came from.
Your loving grandfather, John Kemp Fredericksburgh, Upper Canada,
Winter, 1794
John Kemp died the following January, in 1795, at
approximately 72 years of age, and was buried on January 15, 1795,
beside his beloved Anna in Fredericksburgh. Their descendants
continue to this day.
================================
3) The Video Overview of John Kemp's memoir, created by the Google NotebookLM AI tool, is:
5) I edited the Claude memoir text to correct minor inconsistencies and errors. Every large language model (LLM) AI tool writes descriptive text much better than I can write. The AI tools are very perceptive, insightful and create readable text in seconds, including local and national historical events and social history detail when requested.
6) This is historical fiction, based on my own genealogical research. It is what John Kemp might have told his grandchildren.
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