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A HORRID TRAGEDY.
[Editorial remarks of the Port Gibson Herald and Correspondent, of September
12, 1851.
]
Never within our recollection has the news of the death of any one so completely astounded a community, as that of the murder of Dr.
Jeremiah Chamberlain,
President of Oakland College, on Friday evening last, at his residence. Long before this the news has reached thousands of those, who praised him for his goodness, reverenced him for his virtues and loved him for wise counsels. Thousands of sad hearts, ere this, have bled at the recital of the melancholy tale, and are now sorrowing that he has gone from among us, no more to appear in that field, where for so many years he has been the theme of the most unqualified praise. As a journalist, we are called on to record the horrid story of the tragic deed. Sincerely do we regret that it has fallen to our lot to register the death of so estimable a man and a divine, effected in such a heart-rending manner. We write the tale as developed by the testimony given before the Jury of Inquest, which sat on Saturday last at the house of the deceased, and from other evidence furnished us.
It appears that George A. Briscoe, on Friday last went to Rodney for some purpose, and while there drank freely of liquors, denounced Dr. Chamberlain, and frequently made use of his name to his discredit. The reason for his attempting to cast odium upon the name of so good a man, cannot be well ascertained, unless it be that Dr. Chamberlain having, in the mildest manner possible, on the 1st instant, refuted a charge appearing in a hand-bill, over the signature of “
Isolus,
” calculated to injure Oakland College, and then George A. Briscoe having been referred to as authority for the charges of “
Isolus,
” hostility may have been engendered towards the worthy man. This, however, does not appear in the testimony before the Jury of Inquest. Meeting a gentleman, whose name we need not mention, at Rodney, remarks of a personal nature were made to Briscoce concerning Dr. C., which, by no means, were intended to reach Dr. C.'s ears, they having been said more in jest than in earnest.
On his way home, Briscoe stopped at Oakland, called Dr. Chamberlain to his gate, and repeated the remarks, which were of an offensive character, the grounds for which were by Dr. C. denied. Briscoe called Dr. C. a “liar,” etc., upon which he was asked if he could prove his assertion. Briscoe then leaped from his carriage, saying, “I know you are a liar and a politician,” and struck him over his head with a carriage whip several times, and knocked him down. In the meantime, the gate came open (whether opened by Briscoe or not witnesses could not say). Dr. Chamberlain, then, in the act of rising, picked up a small piece of wood, and held it up to ward off the blows, when Briscoe drew a bowie knife, with a blade about eight inches in length, and plunged it into the breast of his victim to the handle, piercing the heart. At this moment, W. S. Hyland, son-in-law of Dr. Chamberlain, came running up, and seeing him wounded, placed his arm about him, and inquired if he was hurt. Dr. Chamberlain replied, “he has killed me.” They walked in this way up on the gallery of the house and to the middle of the hall, when Dr. Chamberlain said, “I am killed,” and fell so suddenly, as to bring down with him Mr. Hyland upon his knees. He did not speak again. At one time, as his family were gathering about him, he cast his eyes about upon them, moved his lips, but did not articulate. An eye-witness says: “When it was announced,
there is no hope,
his wife exclaimed ‘
Lord Jesus! receive his spirit.
’ A sudden suffusion of the cheek, an intelligent opening of the eyes, and an inexpressibly happy countenance denoted unmistakably his recognition of the prayer.” He died in about fifteen minutes.
We deem it proper here to remark, that the evidence elicited at the examination of the Coroner's Jury of Inquest, together with the character of Dr. Chamberlain, cannot justify any one, in our opinion, in denominating the transaction which resulted as described above, a
rencontre.
In the mean time, Briscoe wiped his knife upon his handkerchief, got into his carriage, and escaped.
On examination of the head by Dr. R. A. New, several bruises were found—one, very severe contusion upon the neck under the left cheek. The Jury of Inquest gave a verdict in accordance with the facts, in which the following appears: “We further find that the crime is murder, and that the crime was committed in front of his (Dr. C.'s) late residence, at Oakland College, in the county of Claiborne, and State of Mississippi.”
Briscoe went to the house of Rev. Wm. A. Smith, as also the house of J. G. Neely, representing to the latter that he had been struck by Dr. Chamberlain, which was not substantiated by the evidence given at the Inquest, but was, in fact, proven to the contrary.
Thus has gone, too early for the world, one who, for many years, has been an eminently useful man, a most worthy citizen, and a consistent preacher of that gospel, which, in the hour of his sudden death, lighted up his pathway to the grave. Called away from the duties which he was so faithfully performing, he has entered the broad valley in death's domain, and is now, it is believed, enjoying the full fruition of a strong faith and a confident reliance upon the Redeemer of the world—“a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the Heavens.”
There are those who, in a better manner than we can do, will testify to the virtues and exalted character of the deceased; but we cannot forbear expressing our high admiration of him, and his abundant merits. No longer than last Sunday week, we listened to the words of wisdom as they fell from his lips, standing as he did in the sacred desk, and ministering in the name of his Lord and Master. “The earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof; the earth and they that dwell therein.” “Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?” These words teach the lesson and convey the sentiment which should insure the acquiescence of all in this afflicting dispensation. Elijah has ascended to the world of spirits, and has left but his mantle behind. Upon whom shall it fall? Upon no one, we fear, so worthy as the lamented Dr.
Jeremiah Chamberlain.
Oakland's halls must be filled with mourning: every niche, every corner will sigh over the departure of him who was their chief glory—of him who had crowned them with honor. The classic groves will bow their heads in sorrow, and deep lamentation shall be wafted upon the breeze through their waving branches, for him who was accustomed to pass among them in the cheerful discharge of his duties. The sepulchre may cover his mortal remains, the clods of Oakland may rest above his decaying form, but his hallowed memory will be cherished deep in the hearts of Oakland's sons, and be treasured by them in perennial freshness, as long as memory shall last. The heart shall be his cenotaph, his virtues its inscription: a monument more enduring than marble —an inscription more honorable than the emblazoned epitaphs upon the tombs of kings.
President Chamberlain
has gone, but never will be forgotten.