SOME EARLY ALLEGANY COUNTY HISTORY
MOSES VAN CAMPEN
RUNNING THE GAUNTLET
A bolder at Caneadea, N. Y. marks the one spot in Allegany County, which played an important part in the American Revolution; and it also commemorates the life and patriotic work
of Major Moses Van Campen. It recalls to those who forgot the life history of that fearless fighter, some of his many experiences. The boulder was erected and unveiled by the Catherine
Schuyler chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution and its base plate bears the following inscription:
“Here in 1782, Major Moses Van Campen, a soldier
of the revolution, captured by the Seneca’s, keeper
of the western door of the Iroquois confederacy,
ran the gauntlet thirty rods west to their ancient
council house, which is now preserved in
Letchworth Park.
No more fearless Indian fighter ever lived than Moses Van Campen. Born in New Jersey, January 21, 1757, he was part and parcel of the stirring times before and during the
revolution and lived to see his country a great nation. His father was a wealthy farmer and was deeply religious as was also his mother. From the latter he imbibed those sterling
qualities, which stood him so well in later life. Soon after the birth of Moses, the family moved to Northampton county, Pa., and he spent his childhood there. The first time he fired a
gun he brought down twenty pigeons and his next two shots killed two deer. He was much with the Indians, who, at that time we were friendly with.
When England began her system of oppression in the early seventies young Van Campen, though but a youth, was fired with patriotism and when his father was asked to join an
expedition against the Indians the boy begged to be allowed to take his place and permission was accorded. From that time on his life was one of adventure. The Indians who previously had
been his friends feared him, although after peace was declared, they again became his friends.
Boulder Stands Where Indians Lived
The boulder stands within the limits of an ancient Indian village, which was one of the most important of the chief town of the Senecas, the most powerful and warlike of
the Six Nations which composed that wonderful “Iroquois Confederacy,” or “League of the Iroquois,” which has challenged the attention, and won the admiration of historians, who have given
its people post-humus fame, by calling them “The Romans of the West.”
The power of the confederacy was felt and dreaded, from the Hudson to the Mississippi, and from the great lakes, to the Gulf of Mexico.
At the beginning of the revolution, Ga_o_za_de_o, as the village was called, was, and for some time had been, the Western Door” of the “Long House” of the league. At this place
their chiefs were required to reside. Over the hills to the north west, ran a main trail through parts of Rushford, Centerville, Freedom, Arcade, and on to Buffalo Creek, and Fort
Niagara. To the east ran the “Canisteo path,” through Allen, Birdsall and Almond, to the head waters of the Susquehanna, while down the river, a trail led to O_wa_is_ki, Gardean, Little
Beards town and Canawagus. Up the river was a path leading to the divide between the waters of the Genesee and the Pennsylvania streams, and on and on. With the exception of the Oneidas
and part of the Tuscroras, the Six Nations espoused the cause of Great Britain. Close students of Indian revolutionary history, aver that right here were matured the plans for, and the
last council was held before the descent upon Wyoming.
Fought at the Battle of Newton
When in 1779, Sullivan’s army was sent into the country of the Six Nations to punish the Indians, and lay waste their town and cornfields, a young man barely twenty-two
years of age, accompanied the expedition in the capacity of quartermaster. His name was Moses Van Campen. At the battle of Newtown, near Elmira, the young quarter-master, though not
required to, took part in the fray, and engaged with an Indian in a sort of a duel from trees. Succeeding in drawing the fire of the Indian without harm to him-self, Van Campen had
nothing more to fear from that particular tree till the Indian could reload his piece, doing which he exposed a part of his person (butt), easily guessed by those familiar with old time
firelocks. Drawing the sights close to the marks, Moses pulled the trigger. A wild shriek followed and Mr. Indian disappeared! Some forty years later, Van Campen related the incident at
Newton, when to his surprise, Shongo exclaimed, “ I same Indian, I same Indian, I same Indian,” and to prove it removed his breechcloth and showed the scar!
Van Campen Slew Five With Tomahawk
In 1780, Van Campen and others were captured at Shawnese flats, by a party of nine Indians from here, commanded by John Mohawk and his father and younger brother were
killed. In the night they effected their escape by killing all but the leader, who engaged with Van Campen in a terrific struggle, after the latter had killed five of them with his own
hand, wielding a tomahawk which he had stolen from his adversary. The Mohawk succeeded in getting away, but with a gash on his neck or left shoulder, which it required several months to
heal. He ever after carried his head to one side. The historic weapon used on that interesting occasion is now to be seen in the Genesee Valley Museum in Letchworth Park
Long year after, when Van Campen was living in Dansville, Horatio Jones met Mohawk. Somewhere in that neighborhood, and persuaded the scarred old chief to visit his old time
adversary. The chief first declined, saying: “Van Campen will not want to see me.” “Yes he will,” said Jones, “Van Campen is a warrior. It is peace now. He will be glad to see you.”
He went. It was just dusk and Van Campen was sick and in his bed. A daughter answered the call, and told her father there was an Indian at the door, whom she thought was
Mohawk. “Tell him to come in,” said the major. “But are you not afraid?” said the daughter. “No. Tell him to come in,” said the father. The Indian came in and they met in this way.
Said Van Campen: “Are you John Mohawk?” “Yes, said Mohawk. Come here,” said the major. He came to the bedside and Van Campen placing his hand on his neck and running it down
under the clothing, felt the scar quite plainly, exclaimed: “Yes you are John Mohawk. That is my mark,”
Mohawk carried a butter ladle and gave it to a daughter of Van Campen as a token of friendship. The ladle is in the museum at Glen Iris.
Taken Prisoner by English Troops
On April 16, 1782, on Bald Eagle Creek, Pa., Van Campen, with a company of twenty-five men, was attacked by eighty-five Indians under Hudson and Shongo, assisted by Lieutenant
Nellis and a platoon of Butler’s Rangers. Nine of Van Campen’s men were killed, three escaped and the rest, with Van Campen, surrendered. The party, with their prisoners, at once set out
for Caneadea. At the Pigeon Woods, not far from the state line, they met an outgoing party, with whom was Horatio Jones, who had become an expert interpreter.
The exploit with Mohawk had advertised Van Campen quite extensively, and the Indians were on the watch for him. With the outgoing party was a Dutchman named Houser, a dull,
honest kind of a fellow, who in the mix-up with the new prisoners, had met Lish Hunt, one of Van Campen’s men, with whom he was formerly acquainted who told him Van Campen was one of the
party. Houser told this to Jones, who at once took in the situation, and with most consummate tact managed to speak with hunt, Houser having pointed him out, after Jones had sealed his
lips as to Van Campen. Cautiously in a low voice he told him of the situation, enjoined secrecy as to their leader, threatening to kill him if he disclosed his name and made him promise
to tell the rest of the prisoners and enjoin secrecy.
Finds a Friend Among His Enemies
Van Campen had been pointed out to him in some way, and he watched for the opportunity, and made himself known to him, quickly, told him of the situation and what he had done,
and finished by saying: “Do not be discouraged. I, too, am a prisoner, and a white man in blood and sympathy. You can rest assured of my silence and friendship.” In a subdued voice
almost a whisper, Van Campen said: “Those are the sweetest words I ever heard spoken,” and they parted.
The party soon resumed the march to Caneadea to be welcomed by the entire stay-at-home population, with every token of joy and exultation. Preparation was soon made for the
gauntlet running. Van Campen was one of the first to pass the ordeal. The course was about forty rods long, the goal the council house, and the laughable and ludicrous finish of his
race, wherein he became so mixed up with the two young squaws who sought to impede, or prevent his getting through, so convulsed the crowd with laughter, and so filled them with mirth and
good feeling, as to make the run quite easy for his comrades. They flocked around him, and patted him on the shoulder, exclaiming: “Shenawana!” “Cajena!” “Brave man. Good fellow,” and
at once he was the hero of the day. Lieutenant Nellis introduced him to his father, Captain Nellis, commending him for his bravery, saying: “He fought me manfully, and if he had been
equally manned, would have beaten me, but as my party was the strongest, I overcame him. Since he has been a prisoner, he has conducted himself like a gentleman, and I wish him treated as
one.”
Dances With a Pretty Young Squaw
The war dance and the turtle dance were gone through with. In the latter a warrior brought a beautiful young squaw to Van Campen for a partner. Dancing and festivity were kept
up for two or three days; then the party passed on with their prisoners to Fort Niagara where they were surrendered to the commandant, and the Indians received their pay.
Jones’s directions to “lie like the deuce and stick to it if quizzed as to Van Campen,” had been carried out to the letter, and he had slipped through their hands undiscovered.
In a short time, however, they learned the facts. A fierce row ensued, and the demand was made that he be given up. The demand was refused. Then they offered to give fourteen other
prisoners for him, but to no avail. The prisoners were soon on board ship bound for Montreal, from which place they were in due time exchanged.
Major Van Campen lived long after the colonies achieved independence. He died in 1849, at the ripe old age of ninety-two years.
Samuel R. and John R. Van Campen, in Elmira, are his descendants.