xt737p8tb91c https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt737p8tb91c/data/mets.xml Beauchamp, Jereboam O., 1802-1826. 1854 books b92hv6248b38a318542009 English H.T. Goodsell : Kentucky Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Sharp, Solomon P., 1780-1825. The confession of Jereboam Beauchamp, (written by himself) who was executed at Frankfort, Ky., for the murder of Col. Solomon P. Sharp, a member of the legislature, and late attorney-general of Ky. To which is added some poetical pieces written by Mrs. Ann Beauchamp, who voluntarily put a period to her existence on the day of the execution of her husband, and was buried in the same grave with him. text The confession of Jereboam Beauchamp, (written by himself) who was executed at Frankfort, Ky., for the murder of Col. Solomon P. Sharp, a member of the legislature, and late attorney-general of Ky. To which is added some poetical pieces written by Mrs. Ann Beauchamp, who voluntarily put a period to her existence on the day of the execution of her husband, and was buried in the same grave with him. 1854 2009 true xt737p8tb91c section xt737p8tb91c
"TEUTH IS STRAH&EE THAN FICTION.

b e a u c h a m p's confession

themurdeb

ol. solomon p. sharp.

I have come deputed by her to take yoi:r life."

written bt himsslf,

PUBLISHED BY II. T. GOODSELL, KENTUCKY 1854.

[L'kich 25 cts.

the confession,

0 t

jeeeboam beauchamp.

(written by himself) who was executed at frankfort, kt.

fob the murder

col. solomon p. sharp,

A MEMBER OF THE LEGISLATURE,

and

LATE ATTORNEY-GENERAL OF KY.

TO WHICH IS ADDED

SOME POETICAL PIECES

WRITTEN bit

mrs. ann beauchamp,

WHO VOLUNTARILY PUT A PERIOD TO HER EXISTENCES ON THE DAY OF THE EXECUTION OF HER HUSBAND, aSTD was BURIED IN THE SAME GRAVE WITH Hi *

PUBLISHED BY H. T. GOODSELL,

kentucky,
Entered according to Act of Congress, A.D. 1354, byH. T. Goodseia, in the United States District Court, for the District of Ky.
P R E FAC E,

I am this day condemned to die by my country's laws. My country has extended the limited time first fixed for my existence on earth, in order that I might write an account of the causes, which have led to my death.

The short rime I have to live, together with the multiplied duties I have to perform, toward consolating my family and friends, will unavoidably render the details of facts, which I shall leave for the perusal of my countrymen, greatly disconnected and confused. I shall abandon all studied style; I shall only in laconic language record facts. I do not regret to die. My fate has moved all, who stood allied to me, by either ties of kindred or friendship, moie than it has me. I am satisfied. I die for pursuing, what tlie dictates of my clearest and most deliberate judgment had determined it was, at least justifiable in me to do, if not my duty to do ; and for which, no guilty pang of conscience, has ever yet reproved me, or, the certain prospect of death, made me feel the least regret. And if my death, teaches a respect for the laws of i y country, my example will be not less serviceable, in teaching a respect for those laws of honor, to revenge the violation and outrage of which, I so fieely die. The death of Col. Sharp ac my hands will teach two lessons not altogether uncalled for by the present moral and political state of society in Kentucky. It will teach a certain class of heroes, who make theirglory to consist in triumphs over the virtue and the happiness of worthy unfortunate orphan fomales, to pause sometimes in their mad career, and reflect that though the deluded victim of their villany, may have nc father to proter' or revenue her vet some friendly arm may sooner or

V
g PREFACE.

later be Rerved by her to avenge her blighted prospects. Some great .iren sever think their lame complete, until some Worthy widowed matron, motwns at their hands, the immolation of a favorite daughter; the pride and comfort of her declining years. To such I have spoken, a loud and lasting warning. My example, or rather that of Col. Sharp's, will also teach the unprincipled politician in his career of ambition1, that if his dishonor has driven from society, and buried ki a living grave an unfortunate female who had fallen a victim to his villany, it may be better to lie under the reproach of her seduction, than to hazzard adding further insult to so deep an injury, slander and detraction, to such an outrage upon every human feeling.

To justify myself before my country, and for the satisfaction of my family, who feel dishonored by my condemnation, I shall submit to the world, a plain unreserved narrative, of the motives and causes, which led me to become am assassin.

And to place in a fair light, all the feelings which hawe led to the assassination of Col. Sharp, I shall be unavoidably led, to give some few abstracted remarks upon what sort of beings both mysetf and my wife are; for this murder is neither imputable to the one or to the other of us, but to both. And as my wife is, I know inflexible in her determination, that as I die for her, she will die with me, I have no motive to conceal the. part which she has acted, the more especially, as she insists to let the world know all the agency she has had, in bringing about a revenge, for the deep indelible wrong, which Col. Sharp bad done her, and her familv.

J. O. BEAUCHAMP
the confession

O F

jereboam beauchamp.

I am the second son of a most worthy and respectable farmer. My parents at an early period of my life, became professors of the Christian religion, and ever after lived quite piously up to its dictates. The early part of my education, which generally nasa lasting impression upon the bent of the mind, was of a most pious and salutary kind. I was much a favorite with my fond father, although of a most wild eccentric and ungovernable temper of mind. But he was nattered by his friends, that I early showed some indications of genius; wherefore, at their solicitation, he determined to give me an education, much beyond his limited fortune; for he was not wealthy, though his enterprise and industry, had made him comfortably independent for the country life.

I was placed quite early in the best schools within his reach. 1 was naturally of a most volatile, idle, and wild disposition. But the great ease with wnich I acquired whatever haining I turned my attention to, enabled me to so far gain the praise of my tutors as to interest my father's friends to advise him, to put me somewhere 'under an able teacher in order to a thorough classical education 5 although his numerous rising family seemed to
JO , B E A U C H A M P' S CONFESSION,

render his ability to complete it hopeless. But fortune placed me under the care of a man of great abilities and learning; to whose paternal affection and attachment to me, I cannot hero withhold this last passing tribute of my gratitude. This was Doct. Benjamin Thurston, than whom I have not found on the earth, one man who approaches nearer the dictates of honor and philosophy.

Under him and some other teachers, although I was several times interrupted irani my course of education, by being taken home, and other casualties, I acquired by the time I was 15 or 16 years of age,, a good English education ; a knowledge of the Latin language,and a respectable acqnaintance witb the Sciences. But feeling for the difficulties under which I saw my father laboring to do equal justice to others of his numerous family, of younger children, who began to claim mora of his exertions for their education, I resolved no longer to burthen him with mine, but to henceforth shift for myself, and as well as I could complete my education by my own exertions.

Reluctant as I was to quit my course of learning, I turned my attention for a time to make a little money by keeping a store. But this soon growing insupportable to me, as it quite took me off from all pursuits of education, I proenred x recommendation from my former tutors, to teach a school myself, although quite too young for such a trust. In this way I made some money, and then again went to farther prose-cute my education. But in a little time, I was invited, by my former friend and benefactor Doct. Thurston, into his school, where I assisted him in his duties, and by the time I was eighteen years old, completed my education, so far as I thought it necessary or important to go, preparatory to the study of the law; which all my friends advised me to pursue. Mingling with my acquaintances of the bar at Glasgow, and those attending the courts there from Bowling-Green, I was about this time attracted by a general burst of generous indignation amongst thorn, toward Col. Solomon P. Sharp, of the bar, from Bowling-Green, for the seduction of Miss Ann Cooke of that place. I was acquainted with -Qql. Sharp personally, and somewhat intimately too, for being greatly delighted with his eloquence, and designing to study . j^e. law myself, I had sought his acquaintance, and had expressed sortie
BEaCCH amp's CONFESSION.

thought of endea-voring to place myself in a situation where I , could study under his direction. I should have mentioned to him (niy wish, but for this very story about Miss Cooke. Now, I was not personally acquainted with Miss Cooke. I knew however the Cooke family by character, and I had heard the gentlemen of the bar of my acquaintance from Bowling-Green, speak often in high and enthusiastic terms of Miss Ann Cooke, for intelligence, etc. And the more especially, when the execrations of Col. Sharp for her seduction, was in the high tone, to which it was at first carried amongst them. But there was a young gentleman from Bowling-Green at that time, a room-mate and bosom friend of mine, who had been intimately acquainted with Miss Cooke, and much devoted to her.

Hearing the high account which lie gave of her character, and the animated representation which an enthusiastic devotee would make of the dishonor to an injured female, to whom he was so much devoted, he much inflamed the indignation so infectious in the youthful bosom, for injuries of this kind, and which had been caught and kindled in my bosom, from those of the profession, with whom I then associated. My friend held Col. Sharp in utter contempt and abhorrence, and from him I imbibed somewhat of my personal dislike, in-so-much, that I felt a disinclination to enter into even those cordial salutations of friendship, which had heretofore characterised our intercourse-. He was a man of the greatest penetration, and I think on one occasion noticed this. For he had learned my design to enter the study of the law, and I suppose had heard some one speak of my thoughts of studying under him. For he asked me once, if I intended to go imaie-diately to the study of the law. I replied, I should in a few months. He said he had learned I intended to go to Bowling-Green, and wished to study with him. I replied with rather more austerity than politeness, I should probably go to Bowling-Green, but I had noi determined to study with him. The manner .in which I spoke this, I saw started some little surprise in his countenance, more from my impoliteness, than anything else. However it passed off with his flattering me with auguring well of ; my success; and by saying, if I should come to Bowling-Green he would be pleased to have it iu his power to facilitate in anyway 1 my prosrress. It mar seem strane-e that I should have been so
12

BEAU CHAMP'S CONFESSION.

easily infected with dislike, toward one 1 had heretofore admired , merely, by the tale of his dishonor toward a female, to whom I was an utter stranger. But such was the enthusiasm of all my passions, that when I had a bosom friend, all his partialities were my partialities, all his antipathies mine. Besides, this was a species of dishonor, which from my earliest recollection, had ever ex-cited my most violent reprobation. I had ever said, I would as soon receive into my friendship, a horse thief, as a man however high his standing, who had dishonored and prostrated the hopes of a respectable and worthy female. And I still say, there is more intrinsic dishonor amd baseness in it, than in stealing a man?s horse, and should be received with less forgiveness or countenance, by society.

Under these habitual feelings and sentiments, it is not so strange, that I should participate in a strong degree, with my friend in his contempt and dislike of Col. Sharp, for his dishonor toward a worthy orphan female, who my friend represented in such high terms. With these prepossessions of sympathy for Miss Cooke, I retired to spend a few months in a country life with my father, previous to my entering the study of the law. This I done to reinstate my health, which had become much impaired by a life of late too sedentary and studious. My father lived in the country in Simpson County, which was one or two counties removed from Glasgow, where I had been going to school. Since my last- visit to my father's, Miss Cooke had retired to a romantic little farm, within a mile of my father's, there to spend in seclusion the remainder of her days, with only her aged mother and a few servants. Immediately on learning that, when I arrived at my father's, I determined to become acquainted with one, I had heard so much talk about. But to my great disappointment and mortification, I learned, she sternly refused to make any acquaintances, or even to receive the society or visits of her former acquaintances. This for some time, prevented my visiting her. But my anxiety and curiosity increased with the accounts I continued to hear of her, until at length I resolved to intrude a visit upon her however unwelcomely I anticipated she would receive it; the more especially, if unaccompanied by an introduction from any friend, or acquaintance of liiers. I however ventured over one evening, and was ushered
BEAUCHA MP'S CONFESSION. ]3

iitto a room by the serva-nts, but after waiting there some time, I yet saw no one but the servants, although as I approached the house, I had seen Miss Cooke in that very room. I was at length served by the servants with some fruits, but Miss Cooke had retired, declining to see me. I sent for her; she came. I introduced myself to her, and told her, that notwithstanding I had learned she was disinclined to make any acquaintances, or to receive the visite of any one, I had been impelled to obtrude a visit upon her. I spoke of her friend and acquaintance of Glasgow, whom I had heard speak very highly of her, and that he had so heightened my anxiety to become acquainted with her, that I had revived to hazzard the mortification which her persisting to decline any acquaintance with me, would give me. I told her that spending my life very lonesomely in the country, without either books or society, I had the more hoped' she would e.'ccr.ce my intrusion, and at least-if she refused me her society, or to become acquainted with my sisters, who wished to visit her, she would favor me with the benefit of her library, whilst I rethaiaed i-a the country, as I had been told she had a very choice selection of books. She replied, that as to her society, she had retired to that secluded spot, never again to mix with the world; that the reason she had left Bowling-Green, was to avoid society, and she must therefore tell me frankly it would be against her wishes to receive company; but, that as to her library, it was quite at my service, and it would give her much pleasure to contribute in any degree, to my amusement or advancement by the loan of any books she had. She then spread her library open to me, and we continued all the evening in my selecting and reading some books of philosophy, which she had pointed out as favo. rites ofhers, and in the conversations to which this led.

On the approach of-night when I spoke of taking my leave, I selected only one book, to take home with me; but she insisted on my taking several. I said I would read the one I had selected) and r&turn for others. I saw from her smile she penetrated my design in that to frame an excuse for-another visit soon. Never, thslesa, I took but one small book, nor scarcely delayed to read that, e'er I returned for another. She declined seeing nv*, hut having the library thrown open to me she sent me some excuse for not seeing me. I read some hours there alone, and left til
14

BEAU CHAMP'S CONFESSION.

house without seeing her. In a few days she had begun to haunt my thoughts and my dreams, in a way that youths, who have felt the like sensations can better imagine, than I describe. I determined to visit her again; butshe again declined to see me; I was vexed at the disappointment.

After reading some hours, I sent a second time, insisting to see her, feigning some especial reason for it. When she came, I entered into a long and urgent remonstrance against her persisting to refuse to see me. I told her, it was not her books which led me there; that it was her and not her books, and used all the ad. dress and persuasion I was master of, to induce her to relax her sternness of purpose not to receive the visit of any one; but to suffer my sisters to be introduced to her. She persisted with much firmness to refuse it; but with not less modesty, entered into a feeling representation why I should not insist on making my sisters acquainted with her. She told me she never could be happy in society again, and as she could not return the visits of my sisters, they would not wish to visit her; but that as to my visits, w:henthey were intended to reap any benefits her library could afford me, it was at my service. I however, soon took my sisters to see her. She received them with much politeness, and entertained us very agreeably. She however, declined their invitation to return their visit, nor did she solicit them to visit her again. I continued to visit her nearly every week after this, and whenever I would go, I would seldom take any denial to see her; till at length, I, by increasing impo^liait^ and- persuasion, pre. vailed with her to receive my visiflTas tho of a friend and acquaintance.

" I told her I would not break in upon her retirement, by presuming to address her as a lover; but that I only besought her society and conversation of an evening, occasionally as a friend. To this she at length so far assented as to meet me on my visits and saend part of the time I was there, in the room with me, and the^fetire to her reading, drawing, painting, or other amusements which employed her time daily. Thus passed as much as three months, during which time, scarce one week together escaped without my seeing her. And meantime, there was enkindled between us, a mutual friendship, such as mortals seldom feel. I called it friendship out of complaisance to.her stoical philosophy,
BEAU CHAMP'S CONFESSION.

and because I had by special agreement, settled it as a preliminary to our acquaintance, that I was not to speak to her of love. But call it what we might, I was conscious there was kindled in my heart, a feeling and a flame, I had never felt before. In short, I was in love; and that with all the ardor of a youth, of ardent passions and feelings, when he first feels the buddings of that sweetest of all passions, which reciprocated happily, turns Earth into a Heaven ; and although I never once ventured to name this to Mis? Cooke, yet to the fair sex, I need not say, there is a language in the eye of the lover, which they will much sooner depend upon, than that of the tongue. And although when I did tell Miss Cooke of -niy passion, she remonstrated against anything, upon that subject; yet I could see in despite of all her stoicism, she was at least not very violently displeased at me, for mentioning the subject. But she firmly persisted for some time, to decline hearing anything of love from me. But being now almost daily associated with her; on terms of the most intimate reciprocal friendship, I became satisfied, she also felt something more than friendship for me. We now frequently conversed, and freely, upon the subject of love; but she always held out, there was an insuperable barrier to her encouraging in me or in herself any feelings of that sort. At length I formally solicited her hand in marriage. She refused it, but with such a burst of feeling as would have rendered her persisting in that refusal, tenfold more painful. But she told me there was an insuperable objection within hei own bosom to marriage, but that her heart did not find that objection in me. In this, she long persisted, but would never tell me what that fatal barrier to my happiness was. At length, I resolved to take no denial, but to know this secret objection. She then told me, with a firmness, which spoke that it was the voice of fate, that the hand which should receive hers, would have to revenge the injury a villain had done her. She said her heart could never cease to ache, till Col. Sharp should die through her instrumentality ; that he had blighted all her happiness; and while he lived, she would feel unworthy of my love. But she said, she would kiss the hand, and adore the person who would revenge her ; but that no one else, savfe myself should do it. > No conditions, 'nor any earthly proposition she could have made~me could have filled me witn so much/delight. Whenever
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BEAUCH AMP'S CONFESSIONS.

I had contemplated a marriage with her, I had always esteemed the death of Col. Sharp a necessary consequence. I never for a moment could suffer a villain to live, who had been the seducer of one I pressed to my bosom as a wife. And to hear her thus require, what I had so much calculated on and desired was peculiarly pleasing t-o me indeed. These feelings I expressed to her and told her it had been my firm purpose to take Col. Sharp's life, if I married her. She then consented to becomo my wife, and in my ardor I determined to fight Col. Sharp before our marriage. He was at that time at Frankfort. I resolved to go immediately in quest of him. She remonstrated against that; for she said Col. Sharp was a coward and would not fight m'e a duel; and being at Frankfort surrounded by his friends, and I a stranger, he would have every advantage over me. But that if I would delay till I could catch him in Bowling-Green, her friends would support me in any revenge I chose to take upon him. But as the office of Attorney General was about this time tendered him I learned he would remain at Frankfort and send for hi's family to reside there : wherefore I prepared to go immediately to Frankfort. I did not feel that as a stranger unallied to Miss Cooke, I could justify myself before the world to kill Col. Sharp on his refusal to fight me. My determination therefore, was to force him if possible to fight me, or if not, I had given avow and solemn oath to her for whom I intended to kill him, that I would do it in such a manner as might least endanger my own life. When I took my leave of Miss Cooke, my sister was present. Sh>j-burst into tears at parting, and invoked the protecting arm of Heaven to be my defense and my shield. This quite astonished my sister, and not less, old Mrs. Cooke, when she heard of it. It seevmed also a mystery and a matter of concern to my parents and all the family, when I next day set off to be gone from home some time without telling any one where I was going, or on what business; nor do my parents or any of my family, or any one else, sai-v-e Col. Sharp, my wife and myself, know to this day, what brought me to Frankfort, at the time of which I now speak. It has been a perfect mystery to every body. \

I arrived in Frankfort, about the commencement of the session of the Legislature, in 1821, I think it was. I got to town on Sunday after dinner. In the evening, I met Col. Sharp upon
HEATJCH AMP'S CONFESSION. 17'

Mansion-house pavement. 1 had not seen one man in town, save himself, whom I knew. He met me in the most cordial manner of friendship. I then took him by the arm, telling him I had come to Frankfort to see him on business of great importance, ana asked him to walk with me. He readily complied, and we continued our walk down the river till we had gotten to a retired place quite out of the town; we then halted as the bells were by that time ringing for supper. I then asked Col. Sharp if he recollected the last words which the injured Miss Cooke had spoker to him? He turnod pale as a corpse and stood motionless as a atatne-of stone.

" Col. Sharp," said I, "I have come deputed and sent by her, to take your life." I am the man of whom, in the spirit of prophecy, she spoke to you, when she forbade you her presence. She says you will not fight me. Will you sir, or not ? He paused some minutes motionless. I continued: answer me, Col Sharp! Will you fight me a duel ? He replied, "my dear friend I cannot fight you, on account of Miss Cooke." I then drew my dirk and stood back from him, and bid him defend himself. Said he, upon my honor, Sir, I have not a weapon, but a small pen-knife. I took from ray pocket a Spanish knife and said to him (holding out that and my dirk,) choose one of these sir, and I will throw it to you. My dear friend, said he, I cannot, fight you on Miss Cooke's account. I threw him then the knife, and said to him, advancing and raising my dagger, you damn'd villain what do you intend by that ? that she is not worthy you, should fight her friend and avenger. My friend, said he, I did not mean that. I never can fight the friend of that worth} injured lady. If her brothers had murdered me, I never could have had the heart to raise my hand to defend myself. And if you, my friend, are her husband I will never raise my hand against you. I replied, I am not her husband sir; .but I am her^ friend and avenger. She has sent me to take your life. Now, sir, tell me will you fight me a duel, (again raising my dagger.) He then stepped back a stepj and I thought from the turn of his eye was preparing to run. I sprang forward and caught him by the breast of his coat, and said, now you damn'd villain you shall die. He then fell on his knees and said, my life ia in your hands, my friend I beg my life. Spare it for mercy's sake. I
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B E A UC H AMP'S CONFESSION.

let go his coat and slapped him in the face, so hard as to tilt him back on his hands. I then said get up you coward, and, go till I meet you in the street to-morrow ; and as he arose, I gav kim a kick; now said I go ami yourself, for to-morrow I shall horsewhip you in the streets, and repeat it daily until you fight me a duel. He then began to beg; called me his dear friend in every sentence: told me how miserable he was for his conduct; said his whole estate was at our command, and anything we ckofcc to require at his hands, if I would let him live, for bis wife and child's sake, and then advanced, again to kneel to me. I told him to stand off you villain, or I will take your life for the insult of offering me your estate. He said he did not mean tn insult me, but anything under Heaven, he would do which I would require if I would spare his life. I told him it WS6 unnecessary to multiply words, for he would have to kill roe or I would him, so that he had better at once consent to fijrht and that I would give him any advantage he chose, as to th manner of fighting; but fight he must or die. Why said he, my dear friend, if you were to take a dirk and I had a swool, I could not raise it against you. He then affected to weep, and said, my friend, if John Cooke had beaten me to death, with a stick, and I had had a sword I would never have raised it againsv him. Very good, said I Col. Sharp, you are about such a whining coward, as I was told you were. But sir, it will only give me the more prolonged pleasure in killing you. For ?f I dont bent you in the streets daily until I make you fight me, or until I beat you to death, one or the other I will certainly do. So now go sleep upon that, until I meet you to-morrow in the street.

I then turned about to hunt the knife I had thrown him. He began again to whine out some flattery and adulation, to prevail with me not to kill him. Oh, said he, you are the favored possessor of that great and worthy woman's love? Be it so then Here take my life. I deserve it. But do not disgrace me in the streets. I bade him begone from me, or I would abide his offer in a moment, (starting toward him.)

He then started off toward town and after I hunted some time for my knife, and could not find it, as it wts now grown something dark, in the river bottom, I also started back to my lodgings. This knife had J. O. B.plainly engraven on the blade

BEAUCHAMP.'S CONFESSION'

end possibly some one may have found it who will When I got these letters being on it. Next morning I bough-ays, on his heavy horsewhip, and after breakfast paraded in