The contrast was too striking to escape our notice; but having climbed a
steep eminence, the eye commanded an almost boundless range of land; and
the faint colour of the hills, retiring in the distance, was beautifully
combined with the mellow green of nearer woods. The counties of
Cheshire, Shropshire, and a considerable part of Wales, were extended,
like a map, for our inspection; the town of Wrexham, rising in the
bottom, animated the scene, with its noble tower, overtopping the
numberless little steeples near it. Close to the road, we observed
several coal and lead mines, and a melting house for forming lead into
pigs; these works belong to Mr. Wilkinson.
The dirty out-skirts of Wrexham, by no means prepossessed us in favor of
the town, but viewing it more leisurely, we can safely affirm, that it is
not only the largest, but the best built town in Wales.
To the kind attentions of a clergyman in the neighbourhood of Wrexham, we
are much indebted, and under his directions, we surveyed the lions with
great advantage. Our friendly Ciceroni first conducted us to the church,
an elegant building of the reign of Henry VII. The tower is an hundred
and forty feet high, and esteemed “a beautiful specimen of the florid, or
reformed Gothic, which prevailed about that time;” all the figures and
ornaments are well designed, and still in high preservation. The inside
is not less elegant; it has lately been neatly repaired, with a good
gallery and organ: the painted altar piece is well executed. On the
left, facing the altar, is a very handsome monument by Roubilliac, to the
memory of Mrs. Mary Middleton; both the design, and execution, reflect
the highest credit on the sculptor; the subject is the last day; at the
sound of the trumpet, a tomb of black marble bursts open, and a beautiful
female figure, clothed in white, appears rising from it, just awoke from
the sleep of death; her form dignified; candour, innocence, and celestial
joy shine in her countenance, and gives it the most feeling and animated
expression: in the back ground, an obelisk, supposed to be erected to her
memory, is rent asunder; above, an angel, enveloped in a cloud, is
pointing to brighter scenes. In this church are two other monuments,
executed by the same celebrated master, in memory of some of the
Middletons; their designs, though striking, cannot be compared to his
last day. Our worthy conductor, perceiving we were great amateurs of
paintings, and careful that nothing of consequence should be passed
unnoticed by us, particularly wished us to examine the performance of a
young artist, then at Wrexham: a copy amongst others, of a painting of
Rembrant’s, taken by Mr. Allen, from a celebrated picture, in the
possession of Lord Craven, was most ingenuously executed; the subject is
an old man, instructing a young boy; the attention of the latter, most
admirably preserved; the head of the former, and the hand particularly,
most highly finished. Without any exaggeration, this painting would do
credit to the most scientific painter, and be esteemed invaluable; it is
therefore to be hoped, from the hands of so young an artist as Mr. Allen,
that this performance will be disposed of, where judges of painting may
view it with a critic’s eye, and recommend its merits to those who can
afford to encourage industry and ingenuity.
Our friend’s invitation to his hospitable parsonage, and agreeable
family, was too kindly urged, possibly to be refused, and in our way to