nded at Rye, until the country gentlemen could
assemble and repulse them utterly.

Then followed two peaceful centuries; but afterwards came disaster, for,
in 1558, Thomas Cromwell sent down two commissioners to examine into the
state of the Abbey and report thereon to the zealous Defender of the
Faith. The Commissioners found nineteen books in the library, and
rumours of monkish debauchery without the walls. "So beggary a house,"
wrote one of the officers, "I never see." Battle Abbey was therefore
suppressed and presented to Sir Anthony Browne, upon whom, as we saw in
the first chapter, the "Curse of Cowdray" was pronounced by the last
departing monk.

To catalogue the present features of Battle Abbey is to vulgarise it.
One comes away with confused memories of grey walls embraced by white
clematis and red rose; gloomy underground caverns with double rows of
arches, where the Brothers might not speak; benignant cedars blessing
the turf with extended hands; fragrant limes waving their delicate
leaves; an old rose garden with fantastic beds; a long yew walk where
the Brothers might meditatively pace--turning, perhaps, an epigram,
regretting, perhaps, the world. Nothing now remains of the Refectory,
where, of old, forty monks fed like one, except the walls. It once had a
noble roof of Irish oak, but that was taken to Cowdray and perished in
the fire there, together with the Abbey roll. One of the Abbey's first
charms is the appropriateness of its gardens; they too are old. In the
cloisters, for instance, there are wonderful box borders.

[Illustration: _Battle Abbey. The Refectory._]

[Sidenote: TURNER'S PICTURE]

Turner painted "Battle Abbey: the spot where Harold fell," with a
greyhound pressing hard upon a hare in the foreground, and a Scotch fir
Italianated into a golden bough.

The town of Battle has little interest. In the church is a brass to
Thomas Alfraye and his wife Elizabeth--Thomas Alfraye "whose soul"
according to his epitaph,

In active strength did passe
As nere was found his peere.

One would like to know more of this Samson. The tomb of Sir Anthony
Browne is also here; but it is not so imposing as that of his son, the
first Viscount Montagu, which we saw at Easebourne. In the churchyard is
the grave of Isaac Ingall, the oldest butler on record, who died at the
age of one hundred and twenty, after acting as butler at the Abbey for
ninety-five years.

From Battle one may reach eas