After 1780, she produced several fine specimens of sculpture, both in marble and terra-cotta. She made a group of sleeping dogs, in marble, for the Duke of Richmond, her brother-in-law, and another for Queen Charlotte. She presented a bust of herself, in 1778, to the Florentine Gallery, and executed several of her titled lady relatives, which were esteemed as works of great merit, and still adorn the galleries of noble connoisseurs. Two colossal heads of her workmanship, representing Thames and Isis, were designed for the keystones of the bridge at Henley. Envy was busy, as it generally is, in disputing the claims of this noble lady to the entire authorship of her celebrated productions; but, though they exhibit a varied character, there was no proof that she availed herself of more assistance than is usual for all sculptors, both in modeling and marble-work. Subordinate hands are always employed in preparing the model and removing the superfluous material. Mrs. Damer complied with the fancy of the day in idealizing the portraits of some of her friends into muses and deities. To please her fast friend, Horace Walpole, she presented him with two kittens in marble, wrought by herself, as an addition to the curiosities of his villa. Still more endearing than their relationship was her agreement with him in political opinions. She had lost her father at the time she went abroad in 1779. The seas were filled with the armed vessels of France, America, and Great Britain, and there was some danger in crossing the Channel. The sculptress was protected, it is true, by her sympathy with the Transatlantic “rebels” and by her character of artist. However, the vessel in which she sailed encountered a French man-of-war, with which a running fight was kept up for four hours. But “the heroic daughter of a hero” manifested both sense and coolness. The French prevailed; the packet struck its colors within sight of Ostend; but Mrs. Damer was not detained in captivity. She now devoted herself more assiduously to the study of classic authors, with the view of entering more fully into the feeling and character of antique sculpture. She kept notes of her reflections as she contemplated the works of art in Italy, with the remarks of critics. She was bent on accomplishing some great work, the glory of which should eclipse the lustre of her hereditary dignity. She had more ambition to become distinguished as a sculptor than as the descendant of the high aristocracy of Britain. Returning from Italy and Spain, she took part in the election that terminated in the triumph of Charles Fox. Mrs. Crewe and the lovely Duchess of Devonshire joined her in canvassing for their favorite, the Whig candidate, “rustling their silks in the lowest sinks of sin and misery, and, in return for the electors’ ‘most sweet voices,’ submitting, it is said, their own sweet cheeks to the salutes of butchers and barge-men.”