Tamar Biographical Sketch

Tamar: A Brief History

Based on available archival documents

A composite of student-produced bios

Tamar was born sometime in the mid-18th century in a region of Africa called Guinea. Different from the current country of Guinea, the area referred to as Guinea in 18th century maps extended eastward from the Atlantic coast of sub-Saharan Africa across to and including parts of present-day central Africa. We believe that Tamar was born in 1744, given that she was 72 years old when she died in 1816 in East Guilford (current-day Madison), Connecticut. We do not know what name Tamar was given by her parents when she was born. The name “Tamar” was given to her by the man who enslaved her once she arrived in Connecticut. There is no record of a surname in any of the archives.

Based on our research, we believe that sometime during her young adulthood Tamar was taken from her family and her home in Guinea and forced onto a ship. We believe she endured the Middle Passage before arriving on the Connecticut shoreline somewhere near East Guilford, where she was enslaved by Rev. Jonathan Todd, second pastor of the First Congregational Church of East Guilford, and his wife, Elizabeth.

On the opening page of his 1876 book of family history, John Todd: The Story of His Life Told Mainly by Himself, author John Todd writes about how his great-uncle, Rev. Todd, became an enslaver. “It so happened that there was a vessel cast ashore near his house, and from the wreck, several Africans, directly from Guinea, emerged,” John Todd writes. “I never knew all the circumstances, but they came into his hands.” He then goes on to describe how Rev. Todd gave these people “Scripture names – Cush, Tamar, and the like.”

We know little about Tamar’s life in the years immediately following her arrival in Connecticut, but the Todd book gives us some clues. According to a particularly dehumanizing passage in his book, John Todd writes that Rev. Todd “made pets of them all,” setting out to educate them with “divers [sic] schemes for their elevation.” The author goes on to say that at some point Reverend Todd appeared to abandon the plan, describing Tamar, Cush, and the others as “full-grown people” who “could not speak a word of English, were immensely stupid, and having never been brought up to work, were anything but industrious.”

In contrast to that description, the next paragraph in the book describes a bond of “affection and fidelity” that grew between Tamar, Cush, and the others and the extended Todd family. “As the old minister had no children,” John Todd writes, his “servants and slaves,” grew attached to the children of his brother, Timothy, who lived nearby, “and many are the stories of their affection and fidelity.” This notion of “affection and fidelity” resurfaces in another anecdote about Tamar later in the book.

Although not mentioned by name, Tamar was presumably among the six enslaved people listed as part of Rev. Todd’s household in the 1790 census, the first-ever federal census in the United States. One year later, she is mentioned by name in Rev. Todd’s will as one of eight enslaved people in his household. At this point Tamar is identified as the mother of a woman named Lettuce (we do not know when or where Lettuce was born) and grandmother of Lettuce’s three children, Sukey, Emma, and Peleg. We do not know where or when they were born either. The will was written shortly before Rev. Todd died on February 24, 1791. Tamar, Lettuce, and Lettuce’s children are all listed without surnames.

Despite the fact that he enslaved as many as eight people at one time (a large number for a Connecticut resident), Rev. Todd writes in his will that he had “long been convinced” that the enslavement of African Americans was a sin and that he was therefore granting them their freedom. “I do Declare my Will in respect to my servants & slaves: I have long been convinced in my own mind, that the Enslaving of the Affricans [sic] brought from Affrica [sic], or those Born in this Country is unjust; is one the sins of the Land, and would Endeavor to free my Estate from the Cry of such a Sin against it," a transcription of the will reads.

In addition to granting Tamar, Lettuce, and the others their liberty (with the proviso that they could afford to take care of themselves and their children without burdening his estate), Rev. Todd also seems to have granted Tamar and Lettuce items that could assist them in their newfound freedom. To both Tamar and Lettuce, he left land “near the Thompson lot,” a cow, household items, and bedding. Unfortunately, no records have been found to indicate that Tamar and Lettuce ever received the land. Rev. Todd also specifically left Tamar a loom with weaving equipment and a brass kettle, moves which suggest that Tamar was both a weaver and a chef.

An anecdote in chapter 2 of the John Todd book sheds light on Tamar’s cooking skills and also speaks to that notion of “affection and fidelity” mentioned in chapter 1. A few pages into chapter 2, John Todd recounts a story about a reunion with a woman named Tamar. At this point ─ we assume about 10 years after Jonathan Todd’s death and the emancipation of his “servants and slaves” ─ Tamar is living in Branford with a man named Prim, identified in the story as her husband. According to the anecdote, Timothy Todd (Rev. Todd’s nephew), now a doctor living in Vermont, was contemplating a move back to Connecticut. He had been injured in a horse and cart accident and was on his journey to East Guilford when, driving through Branford, he found himself near the house where Tamar was now living. He apparently remembered her fondly from his childhood, when she had “carried the doctor around in her arms.”

The book describes a joyful reunion. “The moment that Tamar heard the name she came rushing out, and, climbing into the carriage, took up the doctor, crutches and all, and carried him into the house as if he had been a child as of old, and she a strong young nurse, instead of an old woman of more than seventy years,” John Todd writes. “Having placed him on a chair, she began to dance and caper about him, weeping and laughing at the same time and making the most extravagant demonstrations of joy.” Tamar then prepared a meal, described as “royal,” with her guest declaring he “had never sat down to a better.”

A few paragraphs later, John Todd describes Tamar weeping “bitter tears” when she learned of Timothy Todd’s death. Tamar does not make another appearance in the Todd book, but if we can believe the anecdote about her affection and fidelity toward Timothy Todd, we learn a great deal about the kind of person she was. As one student wrote, “I can’t imagine being kind to someone whose family enslaved me.”

The next archival record we have found is from 1813, when the death of Tamar’s husband, Prim, is reported in Branford church records. After Prim’s death, we assume Tamar moved back to East Guilford, where her daughter and grandchildren were still living, because her death records appear in the East Guilford Congregational Church archives. In July of 1816, at 72 years old, Tamar died.

During her seven decades of life, Tamar endured separation from her family and all she knew. She survived the Middle Passage and many years of enslavement, and yet through it all she appears to have remained resilient, managing to build a life as a free woman, caring for those who mattered to her.

Although there are many missing pieces to her story, we know from our research that Tamar was a caregiver in all senses of the word. She made a difference to those who knew her, and she deserves to be honored and remembered. Her descendants and the stories about her kindness, hospitality, and joy are all part of her legacy. We are proud to help the town of Madison honor Tamar’s memory and her many contributions to our shared history.

Postscript: Last year, when students concluded Searching for Lettuce, they left off with the stories of Lettuce’s sons (Tamar’s grandsons), Eli and Frederick Bailey, who must have been born after the death of Jonathan Todd, when Lettuce had gained her freedom. This year, as we researched Tamar, we continued to seek documents about these two young men, who were in their 20s and recently married when students finished their research a year ago. Shortly before going to press we came across documents pertaining to their lives in their 30s, and we hope these insights might lead us to another generation of Tamar’s and Lettuce's descendants. We will continue to “look over our shoulders” as we restore our collective history and discover how we are all connected. Stay tuned.