Ottumwa weekly courier. (Ottumwa, Wapello County, Iowa) 1872-1899, 1878-10-16
THE BEAUCHAMP TRAGEDY.
The Assassination Of Atty.-0en.
Sharpe, Of Kentucky.
From the Clncinnati Commerclal


ii Ho was hanged.
From the Cincinnati Commercial.
Of the many crimes committed O
the sacred soil of Kentucky there new
er has been one for romance of Incl
, dent, chivalry Of motive, tragedy O
ending equal to that of the Beau
champ affair. Though transpirip,
many years ago, its detsils have los
none Of their freshness, and the higl
standing Of the families and thei
persistent efforts to suppress every
thing relating to II, have tended /,
perpetuate it's remembrance, and rem
der 1t . romance thai even at this lat,
day all kentuckians Iowa to talk o
and wonder over. The murderer, o.
infatuated avenger of another
wrongs, wasJ. o. Beauchamp, the sol
of Q respectable farmer, near Bowl
ing Green. He was young law stu
dent Of unusual promise, whose tai
ents and address had attracted ths
favorable notice of the afterward
murdered Solomon P. Sharpe, at tha,
time attorney general Of the State
Young Beauchamp WAS Of ardent
temperament entertained exalted
ideas of woman's purity, and once
upon his vacations chanced to meet
Mise Ann Cooke, . beautiful young
lady, who, during his absence in the
pursuit of his studies had, with wild.
owed mother, taken up her residence
near his fathers farm.
ltwas a case of love at first sight.
Mise Cooke was melancholy ~ q low
er's lutte, lived in great privacy, and
her mysterious movements and inten-
tional withdraw wal from society threw
around her q halo Of mystification
that fired the ardor of the law-stu-
dent and made him willing slave 1T
her feet. He called upon her, actual
ly forced himself into her presence.
and borrowed books Of her, simply to
afford him an excuse to call again
She repelled his advances in a manner
that only lured him on. He persecut-
ed her with kindness and haunted her
with attentions. He proposed, was
rejected; she would never marry
He persisted with an excess of pas
sion and ardor that induced her to
tell him her story, and wrung from
him . promise OF revenge.
She had been betrayed, she said, by
Col. Sharpe. Her case was q pecu-
liarly sad one. Col. Sharpe had been
raised in her fathers family. The ss-
cred rights of hospitality he had re-
paid by filching the daug ghter's virtue.
! And sns like sas msnx a sn0tRef gbecamR
had been famed for her beauty, yet
her disgrace had withered its charms
and crippled Its powers. Her family
had been wealthy, but adversity had
overtaken them. Her father end
male relatives were all dead. There
was no one to avenge her wrongs.
Beauchamp, tied to her fate by the
silken cords Of desperate love ~
well as by the romantic notion Of Q
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 Beauchamp announced
his intention Of calling him out; "he
10 too great q coward" That was in
1921.
The legislature was in session at
Frankfort. Beauchamp readily
found Col. Sharpe at the Mansion
house. The colonel recognized him
cordially. "I've como to Frankfort
to see you on important 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 . nervous manner and eye spark.
ling with anger. "Do you remember
the last words Miss Cooke, whom you
ruined, spoke to you ?"
Sharpe stood as IL tranefiked.
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 re-
ply.
"Will you fight duel with me ?"
/ "My dear friend" J" cringingly spoke
the attOrney-general, ~ cannot fight
you on Miss Cookies account
"Defend yourself, then, coward and
villain that you are," shrieked Beau
champ, drawing an enormous dirk.
II have NO weapon but . penknife." !"
Beauchamp threw him q Spanish
"My dear friend, cannot fight
you," still urged Sharpe.
"You id villain, what do you
mean by that? That she is not
worthy you should fight her friend
and avenger ?"
"My friend, mean that never
can fight the friend Of that worthy,
injured lady. Had her brothers MUIR
dered me, / would mot have raised
my hand to defend myself. And IL
you are her husband, / can never
fight you."
al am not her husband, but her
friend and avenger. She sent me to
take your life. Now, id 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 IL ct your command, but, oh, lei
me livo," he cried.
Beauchamp released his hold, slap
ped Shsrpe's face, and kicked him as
he arose. "Get mp, you coward, I'll
publicly horsewhip you tomorrow
In the street. You internal coward" !"
he said.
Beauchamp meant to be q good %
his word. He procured . horsewhip,
a~N uvoaV,vv, iw ~ khaA 0hH v~n .u-~nuN
ded by his friends, would make q
show Of resistance, provided himself
with pistols, with which to finish
him. Sharpe felt that:
he who fights and runs away.
Nay live 70 Aght anosher day.
So before break Of day he WAS ON his
horse on route for Bowling Green.
Beauchamp returned to his home.
Miss Cooke now resolved to take ven
geance In her own hands. Daily she
practised with pistols, till her aim be-
came deadly. She tried to lure
Sharpe to her house. He avoided
her. Beauchamp refrained from any
further attempt ON 6harpe's life "a
give Miss Cooke the opportunity che
wished for. 1t never came, and thil
desire to kill him herself gave ia
Sharpe many : day Of life. IN June,
1924, Beauchamp and Miss Cooke
were married. And then he claimed
he had the right to assassinate hia
wife's seducer. Sharpe WAS now I
candidate for the Legislature, but hil
treatment Of Miss Cooke added to hil
unpopularity, 90 he announced that
Miss Cookies child was the ofisprine
OF negro. He evcn produced I
forged certificate to substantiate thia
unheard-of villany.
| Beauchamp heard the tale, and re.
solved that Sharpe'a hour had now
come. He repaired to Frankfort
and, unable to obtain lodgings at the
hotels, passed the night with Scott
the keeper Of the penitentiary. HI
retired early, and prepared for hi
murderous deed. Instead Of shoes hl
put on yarn stockings. He concealed
bis face In red bandanna handker