Before she had seriously determined to attempt the realization of her dreams, she was brought to a decision by a caustic remark of the historian, Hume.  Miss Conway was one day walking with him when they met an Italian boy with plaster vases and figures to sell.  Hume examined the wares and talked with the boy.  Not long after, in the presence of several other people, Miss Conway ridiculed Hume’s taste in art; he answered her sarcastically and intimated that no woman could display as much science and genius as had entered into the making of the plaster casts she so scorned.

This decided her to test herself, and, obtaining wax and the proper tools, she worked industriously until she had made a head that she was willing to show to others.  She then presented it to Hume; it has been said that it was his own portrait, but we do not know if this is true.  At all events, Hume was forced to commend her work, and added that modelling in wax was very easy, but to chisel in marble was quite another task.  Piqued by this scant praise she worked on courageously, and before long showed her critic a copy of the wax head done in marble.

Though Hume genuinely admired certain portions of this work, it is not surprising that he also found defects in it.  Doubtless his critical attitude stimulated the young sculptress to industry; but the true art-impulse was awakened, and her friends soon observed that Miss Conway was no longer interested in their usual pursuits.  When the whole truth was known, it caused much comment.  Of course ladies had painted, but to work with the hands in wet clay and be covered with marble dust—­to say the least, Miss Conway was eccentric.

She at once began the study of anatomy under Cruikshanks, modelling with Cerrachi, and the handling of marble in the studio of Bacon.

Unfortunately for her art, she was married at nineteen to John Darner, eldest son of Lord Milton, a fop and spendthrift, who had run through a large fortune.  He committed suicide nine years after his marriage.  It is said that Harrington, in Miss Burney’s novel of “Cecilia,” was drawn from John Damer, and that his wardrobe was sold for $75,000—­about half its original cost!

Mrs. Damer was childless, and very soon after her husband’s death she travelled in Europe and renewed her study and practice of sculpture with enthusiasm.  By some of her friends her work was greatly admired, but Walpole so exaggerated his praise of her that one can but think that he wrote out of his cousinly affection for the artist, rather than from a judicial estimate of her talent.  He bequeathed to her, for her life, his villa of Strawberry Hill, with all its valuables, and L2,000 a year for its maintenance.