The Milan exchange. (Milan, Gibson County, Tenn.) 1874-1978, 1878-09-05
THE BEAUCHAMP TRAGEDY.
What Might Have Happened i'm Venice, but
Did Happen in kentucky-The AssaSsina-
ton of AttOrDsy-General Sharpe-A Be-
trayed Girls Vengeance.


trayed Girls Vengeance.
From the Cincinnati Commercially
OF the many crimes committed on tn
sacred soil of Kentucky there never ha
been one for romance of incident, chival
~ of motive, tragedy of ending, equal t.
that of the Beauchamp affair. Though
/ TRANSPORTING many years ago, its details
/ have lost none of their freshness, anC
the high standing of the families anC
their persistent efforts to suppress every
thing relating TO it, have tended to per
/ petuate its remembrance, and render i
a romance that even at this late day al
Kentuckians love to talk of and wonder
over. The murderer, or infatuated
avenger of another's wrong, was j. o.
Beauchamp, the son of a respectable
farmer near Bowling Green. He was a
young law student of unusual promise,
whose talents and address had attracted
the favorable notice of the afterward
murdered Solomon p. Sharpe, at thai
time ACKNOWLEDGEMENT of the State.
Young Beauchamp was of ardent tenn
permanent, entertained exalted ideas OF
woman's purity, and once upon his va
cations CHANGED TO meet Miss Ann
Cooke, a beautiful young lady, who,
during his absence in the pursuit of his
studies had, with a widowed mother,
taken up her residence near his fathers
farm.
1t was a case of love at first sight
Miss Cooke was melancholy as a lovers
Lutte, lived in great privacy, and her
,,,to .l
withdrawal from sociery threw around
her halo of mystifcation that fired the
ardor of the law-student and made him
a willing slave at her feet. He called
upon her, actually forced himself into her
presence, and borrowed books of her,
simply to afford him an excuse to call
again. She repealed his advances in q
manner that only lured him on. He
prosecuted her with kindness and haunt
ed her with attentions. He proposed,
was rejected; she would never marry.
He persisted with an excess of passion
and ardor that induced her to tell him
her story and wrung from him a prom
Use of revenge.
She had been betrayed, she said, by
Col. Sharpe. Her case was peculiarly
sad one. Col. Sharpe had been raised
in her fathers family. The sacred
rites of hospitality he had repaid by
filching the daughters virtue. And she,
like many another, became a mother
ere she was a wife. She had been fam
ed for her beauty, yet her disgrace had
withered its charms and crippled its
powers. Her family had been wealthy,
but adyersity had overtaken them. Her
father and male relatives were all dead.
There was 40 one to avenge her wrongs.
Beauchamp, tied to her fate by the silk
en- cords of desperate love, as well rs
by the romantic notion of a chivalric
temperament that urged him to wash
out by assassination or challenge the
wrong done, readily took an oath to
hurl Sharpe to the doom he deserved.
" Sharpe will not fight" said Miss
Cooke, when Beauchsmp announced his
intention of calling him out; " he is too
great a coward" That was in 1921.
The Legislature was in session at
Frankfort. Beduchamp readily found
Col. Sharpe at the Mansion House. The
Colonel recognized him cordially. 1--WE
come to Frankfort to see you on import
ant business" and BeauchamP took him
by the arm saying, "Let's take walk"
They went to retired spot by the
river side. The bell at the Mansion
House rang for supper.
Beauchamp turned upon Sharpe with
a nervous manner and eye sparkling
with anger. "Do you remember the
last words Miss Cooke, whom you
spoke to you?"
Sharpe stood as if transfxed.
81 am the avenger whom in the
spirit of prophecy, she, the last time
you ever saw her, warned you would
right her wrongs
Sharpe stood still, deigning no reply.
CIVIL you fight a duel with me?"
"My dear FRIEND" cringingly spoke
the Attorney General, 81 can not fight
you on Miss Cooks account"
Defend yourself, then, coward and
villain that you are," shrieked Beau
champ, drawing an enormous dirk.
"I have no weapon but a penknife."
Beauchamp threw him a Spanish
knife.
"My dear friend, I can no! Fl ght you, "
still urged Sharpe.
"You - villain, what do you mean
by that? That she is not worthy you
should fight her friend and ayenger?"
"My friend, meant that never can
fight the friend of that worthy, injured
Young lady. Had her brothers muir
dered me, would not have raised my
hand to defend myself And if you are
her husband, can never fight you"
81 am not her husband, but her friend
and avenger. She sent me to take your
life. Now, - villain, you shall die"
He raised his dagger Sharpe ran.
Beauchamp seized him by the collar.
Sharpe fell upon his knees and begged
for his life.
"Take my property, my whole es-
tate is at your command, but, oh, let
me liye," he cried.
Beauchamp released his hold, slapped
Sharpe's face, and kicked him rs he
arose. sect up, you coward. III pub
licly horsewhip you to morrow in the
street, you Internal coward" he said.
Beauchamp meant to be as good rs
his word. He procured a horsewhip,
and presuming that Sharpe, surrounds
6O Dy MS UICIlIts, NOu1I Iudh6 y SHVW
of resistance, provided himself with pis-
tolls, with which to finish him. Sharpe
felt that: q n
He who fights and runs away,
May live to fight another day.
So before break of day he was on his
horse en- route for Bowling Green.
Beauchamp returned to his home. Miss
Cooke now resolved to take vengeance
in her own hands. Daily she practised
with pistols till her aim became deadly.
She tried to lure Sharpe to her house
He avoided her. Beauchamp RETAINED
from any further attempt on Sharpe's
life to give Miss Cooke the opportunity
she wished for. 1t never came, and
this desire to kill him herself gave to
Sharpe many day of life In June,
1924, Beauchamp and Miss Cooke were
married And then he claimed he had
the right to assassinate his wife's Sc
Queer. Sharpe was now candidate
for the Legislature, but his treatment of
Miss Cooke added to his unpopularitv,
so he announced that Miss Cookies child
xvac tho nffSnrinn of n napro Ha ax-oy,