SMOKING-ROOM.
THE WITCHES ROUND THE CAULDRON.BEING PORTRAITS OF LADY MELBOURNE, THE DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE, AND MRS. DAWSON DAMER.By Anne Seymour Dawson Damer.
THE WITCHES ROUND THE CAULDRON.BEING PORTRAITS OF LADY MELBOURNE, THE DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE, AND MRS. DAWSON DAMER.By Anne Seymour Dawson Damer.
THE WITCHES ROUND THE CAULDRON.
BEING PORTRAITS OF LADY MELBOURNE, THE DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE, AND MRS. DAWSON DAMER.
By Anne Seymour Dawson Damer.
IN the notice of Lady Melbourne we have alluded to that lady’s taste for private theatricals,tableaux vivants, and other dramatic entertainments, and to the merry meetings on those festive occasions. This sketch is an interesting record of one such. Lady Melbourne knew where to select talent and beauty: the Duchess of Devonshire, daughter of the first Earl Spencer, by Georgina, daughter of Stephen Poyntz, Esq. of Midgham, near Newbury, was a beauty, a wit, and, above all, a politician. A tribute was once paid to her charms, to our mind, better worth remembering than the widespread story, so often told, so often delineated, in the caricatures of the day, of how her Grace bartered a kiss to a butcher, in exchange for his vote in favour of the fair Whig’s political idol, Charles James Fox. The anecdote to which we give the preference is as follows: One day, when proceeding to the poll, the crowd was so dense, and the mob pressed so heavily against the coach panels, that her Grace, usually so fearless, becamealarmed, and, stretching out her fair head, she requested a rough and shabby member of the community to keep back a little, and induce the others to do the same. The man, an undoubted Irishman, stared at the charming vision for a moment, with his short pipe suspended between his fingers, and then burst forth, ‘God bless yer, and that I shall, and anything else in life, so as I may light my pipe at your eyes.’
Lady Melbourne was also a beauty, as her many portraits show, without the testimony of posthumous fame, and her features were decidedly more regular than those of her captivating friend. Mrs. Damer was also much admired, and in such circumstances we can easily imagine what prettily turned compliments were paid, what flattering contrasts drawn, between these three bewitching witches, who met, and met again, not on a ‘blasted heath,’ but in the sylvan shades of Brocket, and the midnight hags whom Shakespeare drew, ‘so wizen, and so wild in their attire’!
The artist, Anne Seymour, was the daughter of the Hon. Hugh Seymour Conway, brother of the Marquis of Hertford. She married, in 1767, the Hon. John Damer, eldest son of the first Lord Milton. The union was far from happy, and in 1776 the eccentric and restless-minded husband shot himself. Mrs. Damer, who had no children to engross her time and thoughts, now gave herself up to the study and enjoyment of art, for which purpose she travelled in Italy, France, and Spain, mastering the languages of the countries through which she passed; and, benefiting by the treasures of painting and sculpture which they afforded her, she became a proficient with her brush and her chisel, and executed many admirable works, too numerous to be mentioned, being a frequent exhibitor at the Royal Academy. In politics Mrs. Damer emulated her friends, Lady Melbourne and the Duchess of Devonshire, being a staunch Whig, while on the boards of Brocket and White Hall she displayed much talent as anactress. When her cousin and friend, Lord Orford, died, he bequeathed Strawberry Hill to her, with a handsome annual sum for its maintenance, and there she lived for some years. In 1828 she died at her house in Upper Brook Street, and, by her own desire, was buried at Sundridge. Her sculptor’s tools and apron, together with the ashes of a favourite dog, were placed with her in her coffin.
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