Diplomatic Text
Tunbridge Wells
Septr 19: 1779
The real pleasure which your kind letter
my dear Miʃs Hamilton has given me, wou'd alone
be a very powerfull motive for my writing immediately.
but your kindly requesting it as a proof of my
having any affection for you, makes it it impoʃsible
for me to defer one moment. Accept now therefore,
my best thanks for your delightfull letter, and as
I received it only a little while before dinner to
day, I hope you will allow my readineʃs in taking
the pen as a proof of that affection which you so ------ obligingly
allow me to think you value.
Indeed my dear, very few things cou'd give me a
pleasure equal to that I shou'd feel in having you with
me for some comfortable days at Mill Hill. Is the
thing impoʃsible? I think it likely my beloved Mrs
Carter and I may go thither for a few days the beginning
of next month, cou'd you in that case join us? if it was
but for one day & night, I may venture to say it wou'd
make us very happy. If you see the least probability of
this being practicable, pray write directly to ------ me at Deal,
where I intend being in a few days; that if our visit
to Mill Hill takes place, I may inform you of the time
of our going as soon as it is determined, which I can not
do now as it depends on Mrs Carter. I will hope my wishes
wishes may succeed; if they do not, the hope at least is
pleasant, and I will indulge it till forced to give
up. In the mean time I will satisfy the curiosity
you seem to feel concerning Mrs O'Keeffe. Her history
poor thing you will find has been very publick.
indeed I wonder you have never heard it. She is
the daughter of a clergyman in Ireland, who was very
fond of her and endeavoured whilst he lived, to give
her the kind of education which Dr Carter bestowed on
our excellent friend. he cou'd not however proceed far
in his design, as he dyed when she was but thirteen,
& left her and some other children to the care of
a wife, whose whole life was devoted to gaiety, &
amusements, instead of the care of her family.
Indeed she showed little attention to them; as soon
after the death of her husband, she married a
widower with a large family. As Mrs O'Keeffe had
been the favourite of her father, she was almost the object that
of her mothers aversion; no more regard of any sort
was paid to her education, from the time of his
death, and I supect she receiv'd very unkind treatment
from her mother. At sixteen she was addreʃsed by
a very handsome, and accomplished gentleman,
(Capt O'Keeffe) The match was approved of by the
mother, and he visited as a recd lover at the house
for many months. Suddenly however on the mothers
mothers receipt of a letter, which was but too just
a portrait of his character) he was forbid the hous[e]
& Mrs O'Keeffe commanded to have no further communica=
tion with him. T'ill not the early age of sixteen my
dearest Miʃs Hamilton, the never ceasing aʃsiduities
of an amiable lover, to whom her heart had long been
attached by the sanction of parental authority, &
constant ill usage at home, in some measure excuse
the poor girl for the wrong step she took in marrying
contrary to her mothers injunctions. Alas if not, she
has since paid sufficiently dear for her disobedience.
The mother wou'd never see her after her marriage.
this made Ireland so disagreeable to her, that she
very willingly agreed to O'Keeffe's proposal of settling
in England. They lived here nine or ten years, during
which time his extravagance obliged her to the
strictest œconomy, which she practised in a perfectly
recluse life at Black Heath, which he never visited
more than from Saturday to Monday or Tuesday;
the rest of his time being spent in London. He
always paid her every outward mark of attention,
& when absent wrote to her every day. His miʃsing
at last to do so for several days, allarmed her
very much, and with one child in her hand, &
another at her breast, she set out for London to
enquire after him; when she learnt that having
occasioned a riot in a drunken fit at the swan
on Westminster Bridge, he was killedshot there by a
a gentleman whose life he threatned, & lay dead in a
house to which she was directed, where she found a
woman whom he had long kept, in mourning for
him as his widow, and in poʃseʃsion of many things
which he had got from her, on pretence of wanting
the money they cou'd procure. The shock all these
circumstances gave her, threw her into a violent
disorder, and all her little remaining substance was
spent on surgeons & physcians. She was kept however
some time from despair, by flattering hopes of
aʃsistance from a brother of hers in Ireland. He
proved alas too fond of himself to spare any thing
to his sisters distreʃs, and at last told her he cou'd
not, & her mother (to whom before O'Keeffe's death
she had been reconciled by letter) expressed herself
sorry for her misfortune, but too much engaged
with a second young family to give her aʃsistance.
Thus having spent her little all, deserted by
her family, & - without a friend, was poor Mrs O'Keeff[e]
left in a strange country, with - two little girls to
provide for. If you had ever seen her, you wou'd know
she cou'd not undertake a servants place. At last
she went as governeʃs to Mrs Fitzroys children, where
to support her own, she staid as long as she cou'd
support her ill usage. but being unable at last
to bear it she left her, & when she came to me, had
for some months kept her children & herself
herself from starving, by sowing seams for a
Mantua maker. The Dartreys know her history
very well, and were very good to her in her
distreʃses. I flatter my: self they are now over,
and that I shall be permitted to become the
instrument of comfort to this poor mourner.
She is now settled in my Farm, with her two
daughters, one 6 the other 4 years old, the care of
whom seems the joy of her life. She lives with me,
when I am at Mill Hill, and I find her an amiable,
sensible, & agreeable, companion. I fear her long
story may tire you, but I rather chose to run that
risk, than disappoint your curiosity. With
all her misfortunes of which she has undergone
so many, she is but 29 years old.
As Mrs Carter is not here, I can not ask her opinion
of Tom Jones; as to my own when I read what
book it corresponded with yours.
I thank you very much my dearest Miʃs Hamilton
for your friendly enquiries & injunctions about
my health; it is on the whole better than usual,
and I hope to attend your breakfast table (a
circumstance I think of with much pleasure)
next winter without much head ake, & unstupified
by Opium. As to my emplyoyment here or rather no
no employment, it is as dull as it can be: I am
forbid to do any thing whatever till after dinner
whilst I drink the waters, on account of my
head, so I walk the pantiles till theny & ennui
become synonymous terms. But I am going
from hence to my beloved Mamars Carter; you who do
such ample justice to her lovely character, will
feel the pleasure this prospect must give me
in its full force. I am glad you set so true a
value on her friendship, as I know you poʃseʃs
no small share of it.
Who my dear can do otherwise than lament
the dreadfull calamities of war. I am no
politician, as I do not understand the subject enough
to judge of it, & think it too serious a one to be
amusing; but one must cease to be human if insensible
to the calamities which infinite mnumbers must suffer,
whoever gains the advantage.
My paper seems to warn me of the propriety of
concluding, which I do with your beloved sincerity
when I say I am
Yrs Affectionately
M Sharpe
I rejoyce in the comfortable day you have
spent with the Dartreys. Poor dear Lady D. I am
sorry she is likely to be p[l]agued with the S.[1] --
red text is normalised and/or unformatted in other panel)
Notes
1. If this abbreviation is indeed ‘S’, perhaps it stands for the Streatfeilds (see HAM/1/22/12 p.3).
Normalised Text
Tunbridge Wells
September 19: 1779
The real pleasure which your kind letter
my dear Miss Hamilton has given me, would alone
be a very powerful motive for my writing immediately.
but your kindly requesting it as a proof of my
having any affection for you, makes it impossible
for me to defer one moment. Accept now therefore,
my best thanks for your delightful letter, and as
I received it only a little while before dinner to
day, I hope you will allow my readiness in taking
the pen as a proof of that affection which you so obligingly
allow me to think you value.
Indeed my dear, very few things could give me a
pleasure equal to that I should feel in having you with
me for some comfortable days at Mill Hill. Is the
thing impossible? I think it likely my beloved Mrs
Carter and I may go thither for a few days the beginning
of next month, could you in that case join us? if it was
but for one day & night, I may venture to say it would
make us very happy. If you see the least probability of
this being practicable, pray write directly to me at Deal,
where I intend being in a few days; that if our visit
to Mill Hill takes place, I may inform you of the time
of our going as soon as it is determined, which I can not
do now as it depends on Mrs Carter. I will hope my
wishes may succeed; if they do not, the hope at least is
pleasant, and I will indulge it till forced to give
up. In the mean time I will satisfy the curiosity
you seem to feel concerning Mrs O'Keeffe. Her history
poor thing you will find has been very public.
indeed I wonder you have never heard it. She is
the daughter of a clergyman in Ireland, who was very
fond of her and endeavoured whilst he lived, to give
her the kind of education which Dr Carter bestowed on
our excellent friend. he could not however proceed far
in his design, as he died when she was but thirteen,
& left her and some other children to the care of
a wife, whose whole life was devoted to gaiety, &
amusements, instead of the care of her family.
Indeed she showed little attention to them; as soon
after the death of her husband, she married a
widower with a large family. As Mrs O'Keeffe had
been the favourite of her father, she was almost the object
of her mothers aversion; no more regard of any sort
was paid to her education, from the time of his
death, and I suspect she received very unkind treatment
from her mother. At sixteen she was addressed by
a very handsome, and accomplished gentleman,
(Captain O'Keeffe) The match was approved of by the
mother, and he visited as a received lover at the house
for many months. Suddenly however on the
mothers receipt of a letter, which was but too just
a portrait of his character) he was forbidden the house
& Mrs O'Keeffe commanded to have no further communication
with him. Till not the early age of sixteen my
dearest Miss Hamilton, the never ceasing assiduities
of an amiable lover, to whom her heart had long been
attached by the sanction of parental authority, &
constant ill usage at home, in some measure excuse
the poor girl for the wrong step she took in marrying
contrary to her mothers injunctions. Alas if not, she
has since paid sufficiently dear for her disobedience.
The mother would never see her after her marriage.
this made Ireland so disagreeable to her, that she
very willingly agreed to O'Keeffe's proposal of settling
in England. They lived here nine or ten years, during
which time his extravagance obliged her to the
strictest economy, which she practised in a perfectly
recluse life at Black Heath, which he never visited
more than from Saturday to Monday or Tuesday;
the rest of his time being spent in London. He
always paid her every outward mark of attention,
& when absent wrote to her every day. His missing
at last to do so for several days, alarmed her
very much, and with one child in her hand, &
another at her breast, she set out for London to
enquire after him; when she learnt that having
occasioned a riot in a drunken fit at the swan
on Westminster Bridge, he was shot there by
a gentleman whose life he threatened, & lay dead in a
house to which she was directed, where she found a
woman whom he had long kept, in mourning for
him as his widow, and in possession of many things
which he had got from her, on pretence of wanting
the money they could procure. The shock all these
circumstances gave her, threw her into a violent
disorder, and all her little remaining substance was
spent on surgeons & physicians. She was kept however
some time from despair, by flattering hopes of
assistance from a brother of hers in Ireland. He
proved alas too fond of himself to spare any thing
to his sisters distress, and at last told her he could
not, & her mother (to whom before O'Keeffe's death
she had been reconciled by letter) expressed herself
sorry for her misfortune, but too much engaged
with a second young family to give her assistance.
Thus having spent her little all, deserted by
her family, & without a friend, was poor Mrs O'Keeffe
left in a strange country, with two little girls to
provide for. If you had ever seen her, you would know
she could not undertake a servants place. At last
she went as governess to Mrs Fitzroys children, where
to support her own, she stayed as long as she could
support her ill usage. but being unable at last
to bear it she left her, & when she came to me, had
for some months kept her children &
herself from starving, by sewing seams for a
Mantua maker. The Dartreys know her history
very well, and were very good to her in her
distresses. I flatter my: self they are now over,
and that I shall be permitted to become the
instrument of comfort to this poor mourner.
She is now settled in my Farm, with her two
daughters, one 6 the other 4 years old, the care of
whom seems the joy of her life. She lives with me,
when I am at Mill Hill, and I find her an amiable,
sensible, & agreeable, companion. I fear her long
story may tire you, but I rather chose to run that
risk, than disappoint your curiosity. With
all her misfortunes of which she has undergone
so many, she is but 29 years old.
As Mrs Carter is not here, I can not ask her opinion
of Tom Jones; as to my own when I read what
book it corresponded with yours.
I thank you very much my dearest Miss Hamilton
for your friendly enquiries & injunctions about
my health; it is on the whole better than usual,
and I hope to attend your breakfast table (a
circumstance I think of with much pleasure)
next winter without much head ache, & unstupefied
by Opium. As to my employment here or rather
no employment, it is as dull as it can be: I am
forbidden to do any thing whatever till after dinner
whilst I drink the waters, on account of my
head, so I walk the pantiles till they & ennui
become synonymous terms. But I am going
from hence to my beloved Mrs Carter; you who do
such ample justice to her lovely character, will
feel the pleasure this prospect must give me
in its full force. I am glad you set so true a
value on her friendship, as I know you possess
no small share of it.
Who my dear can do otherwise than lament
the dreadful calamities of war. I am no
politician, as I do not understand the subject enough
to judge of it, & think it too serious a one to be
amusing; but one must cease to be human if insensible
to the calamities which infinite numbers must suffer,
whoever gains the advantage.
My paper seems to warn me of the propriety of
concluding, which I do with your beloved sincerity
when I say I am
Yours Affectionately
Mary Sharpe
I rejoice in the comfortable day you have
spent with the Dartreys. Poor dear Lady Dartrey I am
sorry she is likely to be plagued with the S. --
quotations, spellings, uncorrected forms, split words, abbreviations, formatting)
Notes
Metadata
Library References
Repository: John Rylands Research Institute and Library, University of Manchester
Archive: Mary Hamilton Papers
Item title: Letter from Mary Sharpe (later Beauvoir) to Mary Hamilton
Shelfmark: HAM/1/22/13
Correspondence Details
Sender: Mary Beauvoir (née Sharpe, later Douglas)
Place sent: Tunbridge Wells
Addressee: Mary Hamilton
Place received: to be determined
Date sent: 19 September 1779
Letter Description
Summary: Letter from Mary Sharpe to Mary Hamilton. The letter relates to the history of a Mrs O'Keefe, who had suffered at the hands of her husband. Sharpe wishes that Hamilton could spend a few days at Mill Hill with her and asks if it would be possible. It is likely that she and Mrs Carter will go there for a few days at the beginning of October, and she invites Hamilton to stay with them, even if only for one day and night. Sharpe also writes about the poor situation of Mrs O'Keefe, which Hamilton has been curious about. Mrs O'Keefe's background has been made public and Sharpe is surprised that Hamilton is not aware of it. She is the daughter of a clergyman in Ireland who, whilst he was alive, attempted to provide her with a good education similar to that which Dr Carter gave his daughter, Elizabeth. The father died when she was thirteen, leaving her and his other children under the care of his wife, 'whose whole life was devoted to gaiety, & amusements'. She paid little attention to her family and married a widower shortly after her husband's death. Sharpe notes that as Mrs O'Keefe was her father's favourite child, her mother treated her poorly. At the age of sixteen she was 'addressed' by a Captain O'Keefe, and the match was approved of by her mother. He visited for a number of months before her mother received information about his poor character. He was refused entry to the house, but she nevertheless married him without her mother's permission and she has since paid dearly for her disobedience. They moved to England where her husband's 'extravegance' forced her to live very economically in Black Heath. Mr O'Keefe was very often in London. Mrs O'Keefe travelled to London with her children in search of him and was informed that he had 'occasioned a riot in a drunken fit at the swan on Westminster Bridge' and been shot and killed by a man whose life he had threatened. She also found in London a woman 'who he had long kept', who was in mourning for him. The letter continues on Mrs O'Keefe's history, which Sharpe notes the Dartreys (see HAM/1/11) know well, and she now lives on Sharpe's farm with her children.
Hamilton has asked for Sharpe's opinion of Fielding's
Tom Jones, and she writes that it is the same as Hamilton's, but as Mrs Carter is not with her she is not able to ask her opinion of it, but she is to visit her directly after she leaves Tunbridge Wells. Sharpe writes on the 'calamities of war'. She does not understand politics but believes that 'one must cease to be human if insensitive to the calamities which infinite numbers must suffer'.
Dated at Tunbridge Wells, [Kent].
Length: 2 sheets, 1445 words
Transliteration Information
Editorial declaration: First edited in the project 'Unlocking the Mary Hamilton Papers' (Hannah Barker, Sophie Coulombeau, David Denison, Tino Oudesluijs, Cassandra Ulph, Christine Wallis & Nuria Yáñez-Bouza, 2019-2023).
All quotation marks are retained in the text and are represented by appropriate Unicode characters. Words split across two lines may have a hyphen on the first, the second or both fragments (reco-|ver, imperfect|-ly, satisfacti-|-on); or a double hyphen (pur=|port, dan|=ger, qua=|=litys); or none (respect|ing). Any point in abbreviations with superscripted letter(s) is placed last, regardless of relative left-right orientation in the original. Thus, Mrs. or Mrs may occur, but M.rs or Mr.s do not.
Acknowledgements: XML version first created without transcription as part of project 'Unlocking the Mary Hamilton Papers', funded by the Arts & Humanities Research Council under grant AH/S007121/1. Transcription added after the funded period under the supervision of David Denison and Nuria Yáñez-Bouza.
Transliterator: Pete Morris, Artificial Intelligence and Ideas Adoption (AIIA), The University of Manchester Library (Plain text transliteration submitted 22 May 2025)
Cataloguer: Lisa Crawley, Archivist, The John Rylands Library
Cataloguer: John Hodgson, Head of Special Collections, John Rylands Research Institute and Library
Copyright: Transcriptions, notes and TEI/XML © the editors
Revision date: 7 April 2026
