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 outskirts of Wrexham by no means prepossessed us in favour 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.
A friendly clergyman conducted us to the church, an elegant building of
the reign of King Henry the Seventh, and called one of the seven wonders
of Wales. 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 give 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.
The altar-piece was brought from Rome by Elihu Yale, Esq. whose tomb
bears the following inscription:—
Born in America, in Europe bred,
In Afric travell’d, and in Asia wed:
Where long he lived and thrived—in London died.
Much good, some ill he did, so hope all’s even,
And that his soul, through mercy, ’s gone to heav’n!
You that survive and read this tale, take care
For this most certain exit to prepare.
When blest in peace, the actions of the just
Smell sweet, and blossom in the silent dust.
Our worthy conductor, perceiving we were great amateurs of painting, 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 Rembrandt’s, taken
by Mr. Allen from a celebrated picture, in the possession of Lord Craven,
was most ingeniously 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