His great-grandsons were the famous Shirley brothers, whose adventures were so wonderful that their deeds were acted in a contemporary play. One went to Persia to convert the Shah and bring him in on the side of the Christian nations against the Ottomans. On the way he discovered coffee! His younger brother, who accompanied him, remained in Persia and married a Circassian princess. The elder, after being taken prisoner by the Turks, was liberated by the efforts of James I and then imprisoned in the Tower by the same King for his interference in the Levant trade. Ruined in pocket and with a broken heart he sold Wiston and retired to the Isle of Wight. The estates soon afterwards passed to the Gorings, who still own them.
Wiston church, which stands in the park and close to the house, contains several monuments to the Shirleys and one of a child, possibly a son of Sir John de Braose; a splendid brass of the latter lies on the floor of the south chapel; it is covered with the words 'Jesu Mercy.' There are a number of dilapidated monuments and pieces of sculpture remaining in the church, which has been spoilt, and some of the details and monuments actually destroyed, by ignorant and careless "restoration."
To the north-west of Wiston Park is Buncton Chapel, a little old building in which services are occasionally held. The walls show unmistakable Roman tiles.
Chanctonbury (locally "Chinkerbury"), one of the most commanding and dignified of the Down summits, rises 783 feet on the west of Wiston; the climb may be made easier by taking the winding road opposite the church. The "ring" which is such a bold landmark for so many miles around makes a view from the actual top difficult to obtain. The whole of the Weald is in sight and also the far-off line of the North Downs broken by the summits of Holmbury and Leith Hill with Blackdown to the left. In the middle distance is St. Leonard's Forest, and away to the right Ashdown Forest with the unmistakable weird clump of firs at Wych Cross. But it is the immediate foreground of the view which will be most appreciated. The prehistoric entrenchment is filled with the beeches planted by Mr. Charles Goring of Wiston when a youth (about 1760). In his old age (1828) Mr. Goring wrote the following:—
"How oft around thy Ring, sweet Hill,
A Boy, I used to play,
And form my plans to plant thy top
On some auspicious day.
How oft among thy broken turf
With what delight I trod,
With what delight I placed those twigs
Beneath thy maiden sod.
And then an almost hopeless wish
Would creep within my breast,
Oh! could I live to see thy top
In all its beauty dress'd.
That time's arrived; I've had my wish,
And lived to eighty-five;
I'll thank my God who gave such grace
As long as e'er I live.
Still when the morning sun in Spring,
Whilst I enjoy my sight,
Shall gild thy new-clothed Beech and sides,
I'll view thee with delight."
Chanctonbury must have had an overpowering effect on our ancestors; the correspondent quoted below perhaps saw the hill through one of the mists which come in from the sea and render every object monstrous or mysterious.
"Chanckbury, the Wrekin or Cenis of the South Downs, is said to be 1,000 perpendicular yards above the level of the sea; on the summum jugum, or vertex, is a ring of trees planted by Mr. Goring of Whiston, and if they were arrived at maturity, would form no indifferent imitation of an ancient Druidical grove." (Gentleman's Magazine, 1819.)
The descent from the ring is made past a pond whose origin is unknown; judging by its appearance it may well have supplied the men who first occupied the fortifications on the hill top. The white path below eventually leads, by a narrow and steep gully, very slippery after rain, directly to the village of Washington on the Horsham-Worthing high road. The church stands above the village in a picturesque situation, but is of little interest. With the exception of the tower, it was rebuilt in 1866. Here is a sixteenth-century tomb of John Byne from the old building, and in the churchyard may be seen the grave of Charles Goring. Hillaire Belloc has immortalized the village inn thus:—
"They sell good beer at Haslemere
And under Guildford Hill;
At little Cowfold, as I've been told,
A beggar may drink his fill.
There is good brew at Amberley too.
And by the bridge also;
But the swipes they takes in at the Washington Inn
Is the very best beer I know."
A great find of silver coins of the time of the last Saxon Kings was made in 1866 on Chancton Farm; a ploughman turning up an urn containing over three thousand. This was an effective rebuke to those who laugh at "old wives' tales," for a local tradition of buried treasure must have been in existence for eight hundred years.