I Also Noticed When Looking Round That It Was An Interior Rich In
Memorials To The Long Dead - Old Brasses And Stone Tablets On The Walls,
And Some Large Monuments.
By chance the most imposing of the tombs was
so near my seat that with little difficulty I succeeded in reading and
committing to memory the whole contents of the very long inscription
cut in deep letters on the hard white stone.
It was to the memory of
Sir Ranulph Damarell, who died in 1531, and was the head of a family
long settled in those parts, lord of the manor and many other things.
On more than one occasion he raised a troop from his own people and
commanded it himself, fighting for his king and country both in and out
of England. He was, moreover, a friend of the king and his counsellor,
and universally esteemed for his virtues and valour; greatly loved by
all his people, especially by the poor and suffering, on account of his
generosity and kindness of heart.
A very glorious record, and by-and-by I believed every word of it.
For after reading the inscription I began to examine the effigy in
marble of the man himself which surmounted the tomb. He was lying
extended full length, six feet and five inches, his head on a low
pillow, his right hand grasping the handle of his drawn sword. The more
I looked at it, both during and after the service, the more convinced I
became that this was no mere conventional figure made by some lapidary
long after the subject's death, but was the work of an inspired artist,
an exact portrait of the man, even to his stature, and that he had
succeeded in giving to the countenance the very expression of the
living Sir Ranulph.
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