xt7w6m332p9b https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7w6m332p9b/data/mets.xml Beauchamp, Jereboam O., 1802-1826. 1826 books b92hv6248b38a318262009 English N/A : Bloomfield, Ky. Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. The confession of Jereboam O. Beauchamp. text The confession of Jereboam O. Beauchamp. 1826 2009 true xt7w6m332p9b section xt7w6m332p9b

JEREBf A?T O. BEAUHHAMP.

TftiQ WAP EXECUTED AT FRANKFORT, K\ o.v the 7tii op-etrLY, T826\ .FOtf T/f MURDER OF

eot. Solomon ^luirj?,

^ written oy himself,

Aid cont&ijpng the only authentic account of theftaurcer, c .d "the c tuses which induced it

TO WHICH 13 ADDED,

SOME POETICAL PIECES

MRS.. ANN BEAUCHAMP

?J ho vphmtarihf put an end to her existence, on the day eputiftnafher husband, and tcas buried in the si grave with -kirn.

BL003IFIELD, KY.

NTED FOR THE" rCBi.l.MH:t

1826
United States of America. j j District oe Kentucky. ) c'

Be it remembered, that heretofore, toivlt. on the ^L. nth day of August, in the year one thousand eight

hundred and twenty-six. and in the 51st year of the independence of the United States, Genii* S. Hammond of the said district has deposited in this office the tit'.o of a book, the right whereof he claims as proprietor in the words and figures following, to wit: "The Confessions of Jeroboam O. Beauchamp, who was executed at Frankfort, Ky. July 7th, 1326, for the murder of Col. Soloman P. Sharp, a member of the Legislature and late Attorney General of Kentucky. Written by himself, and containing the only authentic nc-countofthe murder and the causes which induced it. To which is added some poetical pieces written by Mrs. Ann Beauchamp, who voluntarily put an end to her existence, on the day of the execution of her husband, and was buried in the same grave with him;" in conformity to the act of Congress of the United States, entitled 'an act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of Maps, Chart?, and Books to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned," and also to an act entitled ':an act supplementary to an act entitled an act for the encouragement of learning by ^securing the copies of Maps, Charts a; id Books to the authors and proprietors of such copies during the times therein mentioned and extending the benefits thereof to (he arts of designing, engraving, etching and other prints.

JOHN II. IIANNA.. Cf-h of the District of Kentucky

I
PREFACE

-QfO-

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

The short time I have to live, together with the multiplied duties I have to perform, towards consolating my family and friends, wilt unavoidably render the detail of tacts, which I shail leave for the perusal of my countrymen, greatly disconnected and confused. . I shall abandon all studied.style; I shall only in laconic language record tacts. I do not regard to die. My fate has moved all, who stood allied to me. by either tics cf kindred or friendship, more than it has me. I am satisfied. 1 die for pursuing, what the dictates of jrry_ clearest and most deliberate judgment had detertnitteuTFwasy at least justiciable 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 rejjitt. And if my death, teaches a rc.?j)ect tor the hKvsoi* my country, my example will 1 not feSS serviceable, in tc.telling a respc^ ;" r ilwweiawa of honor, to revenge the violation and outrage of which, 1 so freely die, The death of Col. Sharp at my lu.nds. wiil 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 their glory to consist in triumphs over the virtue and '.he happiness of worthy unfortunate orphan females, to pause sometimes in their mad career, and reflect, that thoughthe deluded victim of their villany, may have no father to protect or revenge her, yet somc^frttii(iLy_^axni--ftttry" sooner or later be nerved by her, to avenge her blighted prospects. Some great men never think their lame complete, till some worthy widowed matron, mourns at their hands, the immolation' of a favourite daughter; the pride and comfort of her dcelinc-ing \ears. To such 1 have spoken, a loud and lusling'warn-ing. My .example, or rather that of Col. Sharp's, will also ,teach the unprincipled politician in his career of ambiticnj that if his dishonor has driven from society, and buried in
living grove an ua fortunate female who had fallen a victim to his villany. it may be better to lie under (he 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, 1 shall submit to the world, a plain unreserved narrative, of the motives and causes, which led me to become an assassin.

And to place in a fair light, all the feelings which have led to the assassination of Col. Sharp, 1 shall b unavoidably led, to give some few abstracted remarks, upon what sort of heingsboth myself and m}' wife aie: for this murder is neither imputable.to the one or the other of us, but to both. An* as my wife is, I know inflexible in her determination, that as 1 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 had done her. and her family.

J. O. BEAUCIIA.^

Mat 22,1326,
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 fex its dictates. The early part of my education, which generally has a lasting impression upon the bent of the mind, was of a most pious and salutary kind. I was much a favourite with my fond father, although of a most wild eccentric and ungovernable temper of mind. But he was flattered by his friends, that I early shewed 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 schooUs within his -:6e-ach. 1 was naturally of a most volatile, idle, and wild disposition. But the great ease with which I acquired whatever learning 1 turned my attention to, enabled me to so fur gain the praise of my tutors, as to interest my fathers friends, to advise him, to put me somewhere under an able teacher in order to a thorough classical education; although his numerous rising family seemed to render his a-bility 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 hare withhold this last passing tribute of my gratitude. This L A 2 -* '-
was Doct. Benjamin Thurston, than whom 1 have not fi jul vn tlie earth, one man who approaches nearer the dictates of honor and philosophy.

Lnder him and some other teachers, although 1 was several times, interrupted from my course of education, by being tfikcu home, and other casualties, J 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 acquaintance with the Sciences, But feeling for the- difficulties under which I saw my father Labouring to do equal justice to others of his numerous family, of younger children, who now began to claim more of his exertions for their education, I resolved no longer to burthen him with mine, but to thenceforth shift for myself, and as well as I could, complete my education, by my own exertions..

Reluctant as 1 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 pursuit of education, I piqcuied a recommendation from my former tutors, .to teach a school myself, although quite loo young for such a trust. In this way I made some money, and then again went to farther prosecute my education. But in,a little time, I was invited by my former friend and.benefactor Doct. Thurston, into his school, where 1 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 ibose attending the couris there from Bowlinggreen, I was about this time attracted by a general burst of generous indignation amongst them, towards Col. Solomon P. Sharp,-o;
the1 ar. from Bowliag-Gi ecu. for the seduction of Miss Arm Cooke of that place', i was ac [unrated with Col. Sharp per-

somilly. and spijiewhat intimately too, for being greatly delighted with his eloquence, and designing to study the law nivself, 1 had sought his acquaintance! and had expressed some thought of endeavouring to place myself in a situation, wliL're I could study under his direction. I should have . mentioned to him my wish, but for this very story about Miss Cooke. Now. I was not personally acquainted with 3Ii> Cooke. I knew however the Cook family by character, and I had heard the gentlemen of the bar of my acquaintance froui Bow ling-Green, speak often in high and enthusiastic terras of Miss Ann Cooke, for intelligence &.c. And the more especially, when the execrations of Col. Sharp for her self duction, was in the high tone, to which it was at iirst carried

|fe 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 he gave of her charad ter, 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 somewhatofmy personal dislike, in-so-muuh, that I felt a disinclination to enter into even those cordial salutations of friendship, which" had heretofore characterized our intercourse. Jle was a man of the greatest penetration, and I think on one occasion, noticed this. For he had learned my design to enter the
6

ftidy- of the law. and 1 suppose had heard someone,speak of my thoughts of studying under him. For he asked me once, if I intended logo immediately to the study of the law. 1 replied, 1 should in a few months, lie said he had learned 1 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 Bpwliug-Green, but 1 had no* determined to study with him. The manner in tvhich I apoke this, I saw startled some little surprise in his countenance, more from my impoliteness, than an> thing else. However, it passed oft'with his flattering me with auguring well of my success: and by saying, if 1 should come to Bow-ling-Green. he would be pleased to have it in his power to facilitate in any way, my progress. It may seem strange, that {should have been so easily infected with dislike, towards one ] had heretofore admired; merely, by the tale of his dishonour towards a female, to whom 1 was an utter stranger. But such was-the enthusiasm of all my passions, that when 1 had a bosom friend, all his partialities were my partialities, all his antipathies mine. Besides, this was a species of dishonour, which, from my earliest recollection, had ever excited my most violent reprobation. I had trrer said, I would as soon receive into my friendship, an horse thief, as a man, however high hfs standing, who had dishonoured and prostrated the hopes of a respectable and worthy female. And J-atili say, there .is mora intrinsic dishonour and 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 towards a worthy orphan female, .whom my friend
represented in such bidr terms. With these prepossessions >f 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 ;iid studious. My father lived in the country in Pimpsori 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 fathers, there to spend in seclusion the remainder of her day. ; with ooly her aged mother and a few servant's. Immediately on learning that, when 1 arrived at my father's, I determined *o become acquainted with one, 1 had heard so much talk about. But to my great- disappointment and mortification. 1 learned, she sternly refused io 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 Jo-hear of her, till at length 1 resolved to intrude a visit upon her. however un-welcomely 1 anticipated she would receive it; the .more espe ciallv.il uiiaccommpanied by an introduction from any liienj, r acquaintance of hers. 1 however ventured over one evening-, and was ushered into a room by the servants, but after-waiting there some time. I yet saw no one but the servants^ although as I approached the house, 1 had seen Miss Cooke in that very loom. I was at length served by the servants with some fiuits, but Miss Cooke had retired, declining to see me. 1 sent for her; She came. I introduced inj self to her. and told her. that notwithstanding I had learned she was disinclined to make any acquaintances, or to receive t!i v(fit; of any one, I had been impelled to obtrude a visit upon
10

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 resolved to hazzartl 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 epantrv, without cither books or society, I had the more hoped she would excuse 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 favour me with the benefit of her library, whilst i remained in 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 scclu.-ded spot, never again to jnix with the world; that the reason she had left Eowling-fireen, 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 pleasuj rtp contribute in any degree, to my amusement or advancement, by the loan of any books she had. She (hen 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 favourites of hers, and in the conversations to which this led.

On the approach of night when I spoke of taking my lirave, I selected.only one book, to take home with me; .but she jusisted on my taking several. 1 said 1 would read the "one I had selected, and return for others. I saw from bcr smile she penetrated my design in that, to frame an excuse for another visit soon. Nevertheless. I took but one small book, ncr scarcely delayed to read that, e'er I returned for another. She declined seeing me. but having the library thrown open
'ton?? ser>' me some excuse for rot seeing me. I read some ! u s there alone, and left the house without seeing-jn a lew days she had begun to haunt my thoughts and my dreams, inn way that youths, who have felt the like sen' sations can better imagine, than I describe. I determined to visit her again; but she again declined to sec me; 1 was vexed at the disappointment.

After reading some hours, I sent a second time, insisting io sec her, feigning some especial reason for it. When she came" I entered into a long and urgent remonstrance against her per. fisting to refuse to sec me. I told iier, it was not her hooks which led me there; that it was her and not her books, and used all the address and persuasion I was master of, to induce ker 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 frrmncss to refuse it; but with not less modesty, .entered into a-feeTIiig'-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, thev would no: wish to visit her; but that as to my visits, when they 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, 1, by increasing importunity nnd persuasion, prevailed with her to receive my visits as those of a> friend and acquaintance.

I told her I wculd not break in upon her retirement, by pro
IS!

Vuining to address her as alover; but that I only besought he.* society and conversation of an evening, occasionally as a friend. To this she at length so far assented as to meet me or. iy visits and spend part of the time I was there, in the room with me, and then retipc to her reading, drawing, painting, r other amusements which employed her time daily. Thus passed as much as three months, during which time, scarce ne week together escaped, without my seeing her. tod 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, 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. Hut call it what we might, 1 was conscious there was kindled in my heart, a feeling and a tin me, 1 had never felt before. Iu short, 1 was in love; and that with all-the ardour of a youth, of ardent passions and feelings, when he first feels the buddings of that sweetest fall passions, which reciprocated, hapily turns Earth into a Heaven. And although 1 had never once ventured to name this to Miss Cooke, yet to the fair sex, I need not say, there is a language in the eye of the lov-er, which they will much sooner depend upon, than that of she tongue. And although when I did tell Miss Cooke of my passion, she remonstrated against any thing, 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 de, cline hearing any thing of love from me. But being now a!: most daily associated with her, on terms of the most intimate reciprocal friendship. I became satisfied, she also felt some thing more than friendship for me. We now frequently con versed, ^d freely, upon the subject of love; but she (Sway?
'jjcld out, there was an in-upersible'larritr. io her encpiirage fhg in me, or in herself, any feeling-: 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 thatTelusa!. tenfold more painful. But she told me there was an insuperable objection wiihin-herown bosom to marriage, but that her heart did not find that objection in "me. Tn this, she long persisted, but would never tell me what that fatal harrier to my happiness was. At length, 1 resolved to take no denial, but to know this secret objection. Ska then tol' at " '.Ling under Heaven, he would do which I would rc; iVuire ifl would spare his. life. I told him it was unneccssa i v to multiply words, for he would have to kill me or I would ,',im. so (hat he had better at once consent to fight me; and that I would give him any advantage, he chose, as to the man-:; ) 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 sword, I -mild not raise it against you. He then affected to weep,and said, my friend, if John Cooke had beaten mc to death? with a stick, audi had had a sword I would never have

raised it against him. Very good, said I Col. Sharp, you are i.bts.'.it such a wiimfig coward, as I was told vou were. Biv sir it will only give me the more prolonged pleasure in kii'-.-
17

mg you. For if I don't beat you in the streets daily, till * make you fight me, or till I beat you to death, one or fheoth er 1 will certainly do. So now go sleep upoh that, till I mee-you to-morrow in the streets.

1 then tarned 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 wornans' love -Be'it so then. Here take my life. I deserve it. But do no1 disgrace me in the streets. I bade him begone from me, or would abide his offer in one moment, (starting towards him..'

He theu started off towards town, and after I hunted sometime for my knife, and could not find it, as it was now grown something dark, in the river bottom, I also started back to my lodgings. This knife had J. 0. B. plainly engraven on the blade, and possibly someone may have found it who wi now recollect these letters being on it. Next morning I bought me a very heavy horsewhip, and after breakfast pa--radcd in the streets armed'at all'points for battle. For I ex-' gected the Col. would surround himself by friends and take advantage of the law, to shoot me asl approached to assault him. But I also had pistols and intended to menace the at tack, at a distance, by approaching him without saying a word to him, and if he fired at me lalso would draw and fire at. a distance, as I knew I would have an advantage therein, as I was well practiced with the pistol; which I knew he was not..

I made several sallies round the town that day, but no Col, Sharp appeared. I imagined he had kept his room that day with the hope.that I would leave town. Next day I patrolled the streets for him till dinner. 1 then began to inquire for-him, when lo! I was told, he had the day before set off atdav* light, for Bowling Green to bring his family to Frankfort. I

mounted my horse and started immediately, after him, Lat

B2'
i supposed he was too much ahead of me. for me to ovcrtake-ium,.I rode quite leisurely, and took a route by my uiieies, Col. Beauchannrs, which was out .of my way. Besides, nothing could have pleased me. so well as the idea of encountering him in Howling Green. But behold, when I got to Bowling Green I found 1 had been .deceived. Col. Sharp was nor there, nor was he expected there for some considerable time; I was much enraged, it is true but really 1 could not help being Somewhat diverted at the trick which had.been played upon me.

We then determined to delay marrying till Col. Sharp should come to settle up his business .in Bowling Green, and then lure him to the retirement, where Miss Cooke lived,ancj

there kill him.

At length he came to Bowling Green. I was there when he came, and. went immediately to retirement, to concert a scheme.to lure him there. Miss Cooke wrote him a iqng lettei-j telling him that notwithstanding the feelings she had manifested towards him, when last she saw him, and the sternness with which she had forbid him never to see her-again, these had not been the feelings of her heart, but only the momentary effusions of delirium. She told him he need not be surprised that the wild cliivalrous notions of an ethusi.. astic devotee, of a youth of Mr. Eeauchamp's age should have made him hope to ingratiate himself with her by fighting a duel on her account. She told him it was true, she had been something pleased with Mr. Beauchamp's mind, and might have, by her expressions to that effect, encouraged his hopes; but, owing to the course he had told her he had taken towards Col. Sharp, she had entirely broken off his visits). She said she expected to leave, the state very soon, and either go. to Virginia of Mississippi, and that as he had conjured
her by letter, that if she should ever consent, under any conditions, to suffer him to see her, she had thought before she left the state, she would like to give him his letters, and if he had retained any of her's, get them from him. She requested that he would be there certainly, on such an evening, and that he would apprise her, by the servant who bore that letter, whether or not he would do so.

Col. Sharp received this letter, and immediately he read it asked the servant whether Mr. Beauchamp was