Tales from Two Rivers

Excerpt One

Iron

I followed the footpath around the church and paused near the south entrance. From this vantage point, I observed the many alterations made over time, which had left the whole structure feeling somewhat disjointed. Behind me, I couldn't help but notice an ancient yew tree; its presence was almost primordial. Had it been twilight, I am sure these words would have come to mind: 'Twas brillig and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe.'

From old trees to old family trees, I wandered along narrow paths through the hushed graveyard. Carefully crafted and engraved stone, now weathered, for the ancestors. Fresh earth, delicate cut flowers for the recently departed.

A path led me out of the graveyard and towards an enticing mill pond through which the River Ouse flowed gently. The heavy, measured wingbeats of a pair of swans briefly stirred the air before silence settled once more. I watched as the two elegant birds glided low and effortlessly past the boathouse. What an idyllic place this was.

The river grew agitated as it left the tranquil mill pond, forced to split as it surged through an old mill before entering the grounds of Slaugham Place. One branch rushed vigorously beneath a stone bridge and then cascaded down a series of stone steps, generating a deafening white noise. The other carved its way over and around rock formations before turning and twisting through narrow gullies.

Slaugham Place lay before me in ruins, enclosed within a brick wall and conspicuous ornamental hedging, evoking the charm of a garden folly. Three imposing arches stood defiantly at the centre of the enclosure, perhaps the remnants of the main gateway on the north elevation.  If one were to trace straight lines, then three smaller arches appeared to stand at a right angle to the larger ones. Perhaps they were once part of a colonnade running along the inner east side of the building.  Trees had taken root amongst the ruins.

Slaugham Place, built by Sir Walter Covert around the end of the sixteenth century, would have stood as an imposing mansion in its time. Sir Walter Covert was the son of Richard Covert, who, in turn, was the son of John Covert. In identifying the son, the father, and the grandfather, I have traced three generations to reveal their enduring connection to Slaugham and Slaugham Place.

Upon his death, John Covert, the grandfather, bequeathed a gold chain to his son, Richard Covert, who later became an ironmaster. Historical records note that the Bishop of Chichester described Richard Covert as a 'misliker of religion and godly proceedings.' Upon his death, Richard Covert left his son, Walter Covert, a substantial estate, including a thriving iron business. Walter Covert used his inheritance to build Slaugham Place and followed in his father's footsteps as an ironmaster.

Historian William Camden wrote of Sussex:

'It is full of iron mines... for the casting of which, there are furnaces up and down the country... abundance of wood is yearly spent; many streams are drawn into one channel. A great deal of meadow ground is turned into ponds and pools... driving the mills... which beating with hammers upon the iron, fill the neighbourhood round about, night and day with continual noise.'

Sir Walter Covert passed away without having any children. Grandfather, father, and son were all laid to rest at St. Mary's church in Slaugham, West Sussex.

Eventually, iron manufacturing in West Sussex came to an end, along with mercantilism. The land once again returned to farming and forestry.

Less than a century after its construction, Slaugham Place fell into disrepair, likely due to a lack of liquid capital. Today, its ruins serve as a wedding venue.

As for the gold chain, its fate remains unknown.

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