The report of Dr. Layton, Chief Commissioner, described the conduct of Battle as “the worst that ever I see in all other places, whereat I see specially the blake sort of dyvellyshe monks.” Their doings, however, had not been so bad as those of establishments subsequently visited, whose sins will scarce bear mention. But the monks of Battle had always been prepared to go considerable lengths for money. In the monastery was hung the famous “Roll of Battle Abbey,” purporting to be the roll-call of the Norman knights on the morning of the Battle of Hastings, to which they answered “Here,” or “Ici,” or “Adsum,” as might be. This historical parchment is reported to have been removed to Cowdray, where it perished in the fire of 1793, but it had, centuries before, been so tampered with by the monks that all its value had been destroyed. It early became a foible among noble or wealthy families to declare that their ancestors “came over with the Conqueror,” and Battle Abbey was always ready to oblige a liberal patron by adding his name to the Roll. In the words of Dugdale: “Such hath been the subtility of some Monks of old, that, finding it acceptable unto most to be reputed descendants to those who were companions with Duke William in that memorable Expedition whereby he became Conqueror of this Realm, as that, to gratify them (but not without their own advantage) they inserted their Names into this antient Catalogue”; and Camden repeats the charge. “Whosoever,” he says, “considers well shall find them always to be forged, and those names inserted which were never mentioned in that authenticated record.” On the surrender of Battle Abbey, it and its lands were granted by the King to Sir Anthony Browne, in 1538. The knight did not come into his property with the good will of the neighbourhood, which, pauperised by and dependent on the monks, with anger saw them thrust forth into the world, and loved to tell how the last of the brethren to issue from the gate turned and cursed him with the doom of the sacrilegious. “By fire and water,” he declared, his line should end. We are not told whether Sir Anthony Browne quailed—as on the stage he certainly would have done—or if he merely laughed; but there can be no doubt that the people of Battle awaited the issue with great interest, and that, when nothing happened, they were disappointed. Instead of Sir Anthony Browne or any of his family being cut off untimely, they flourished exceedingly, and his son became a peer, under the title of Viscount Montagu.