A Search For The Origins of Colonial
Deuels In Their Name, Life and Country
Colonial Deuels - Part 2
"A story by Madam Sarah Kremble Knight about Joseph2 Deuell, on a visit to the Devil's Habitat"
On the topic of colonial Deuells, there was a Deuell/Devol who is mentioned in a prominent piece of early
American literature, the Journal of Madam Sarah Kemble Knight. She was a schoolteacher (among her students
was Benjamin Franklin) who left a journal of a trip she made from Boston to New York City in 1704. I was
surprised how many references there are to her on the web, she was a more significant author than I realized.
Joseph2 Deuell, who we last met taking the freemen's oath in Dartmouth in 1666 as Josepth Deuell, later had a
grist mill in Westerly, RI (in that part that is now Charlestown) and also ran an inn along the Post Road (now
Rt. 1). He was probably a Sabbatarian (what we would call a Seventh Day Adventist) like his father (I'll cover
that topic another time), as there was a sizeable Sabbatarian community in Westerly at the time, including
Hugh1 Mosher, who had many Quaker descendants in Dutchess.
"Wednesday, October 4 (1704)
"About four in the morning we set out for Kingston (for so was the town called) with a French doctor in our
company. He and the Post [i.e. post rider] put on very furiously, so that I could not keep up with them, only as
now and then they'd stop until they saw me. This road was poorly furnished with accomodations for travellers,
so that we were forced to ride 22 miles by the post's account, but nearer thirty by mine, before we could bait
so much as our horses, which I exceedingly complained of.
"But the post encouraged me by saying we should be well accommodated anon at Mr. Devill's a few miles
further. But I questioned whether we ought to go to the Devil to be helped out of our affliction. However, like
the rest of deluded souls who post to the infernal den, we made all possible speed to this Devil's Habitat where
alighting in good assurance in accomodation, we were going in.
"But meeting his two daughters --- as I supposed, twins --- they so nearly resembled each other, both in
features and habit, and looked as old as the Devil himself, and quite as ugly. We desired entertainment, but
could hardly get a word out of them till with our importunity telling them of our necessity, etc., the called the
Old Sophister, who was as sparing of his words as his daughters had been, and "no" and "none" were the
replies he made to our demands.
"I thought it proper to warn poor travellers to endeavor to avoid falling into circumstances like ours, which at
our next stage I sat down and did as followeth:
"May all that dread the cruel fiend of the night,
Keep on and not at this cursed Mansion light.
'Tis Hell; 'tis Hell, and Devills here do dwell.
Here dwells the Devill --- surely this is Hell.
Nothing but wants: a drop to cool your tongue
Can't be procured these cruel fiends among.
Plenty of horrid grins, and looks severe,
Hunger and thirst, but pity's banished here.
The right hand keep, if Hell on Earth you fear!"
Okay, so maybe the Old Sophister Joseph2 wasn't exactly Conrad Hilton, but I bet he was good at his other job
grinding johnnycake meal. I was looking at a history of Westerly, there was no mention of Joseph Deuell
except among a list of early settlers ("Joseph Davell") but an interesting story about a person who lived nearby,
a Widow Mott. It makes for a good Halloween story. It seems the widow, whose husband must have been a
distant cousin of mine, was babysitting for two young boys in the early 1700s who suspected she was a witch.
On a dare from the other, one of them stuck an awl in a chair she was sitting in, knitting. I've never heard of
this method of testing for withcraft, but upon sticking the awl in the chair leg she immediately froze in place,
and stayed that way for several hours until they pulled out the awl and she resumed her knitting as if nothing
had happened. This is a nonintrusive and less messy diagnostic tool than the usual method of weighting them
down with stones then seeing if they still float.
One of her neighbors named Potter was bothered when a flock of guinea hens she kept went into his barnyard.
He shooed them away, but one of the birds, bolder than the others, flew around his face and pecked at him. He
was so annoyed that he took his gun and shot the bird, but it seemed to have no effect. A few days later the
flock came back and the bold one again pecked at him. Reaching for his gun, he realized that he had powder
but no bullets. Frustrated, he pulled a silver button off his coat and loaded it in the gun. Upon being hit by this
the hen gave an unearthly screech and flew off in great distress.
The next morning the shades were pulled down at Widow Mott's. It was said that her daughter would
not call the local doctor to attend to her, fearing that he would find the wound in her side and
the silver button within.
Rick Gifford
October 27, 2002