Freshwater Springs. These are to be found 100yds off the beach at Elberry Cove and about 400yds west of Churston Point. The springs bubble up through the sandy bottom and can be spotted by the saucer-shaped indentations in the sand. The freshwater mixing with sea water produces a shimmering optical effect.
- Dive South Devon: a diver guide, Kendall McDonald, Derek Cockbill. 1990

 

Beyond Goodrington are Broad Sands, beyond which the land is broken into a few small coves, the first of which is Elberry. It will extend our walk too much to visit it by land, and the principal object of attraction can be examined only in a boat. It. must therefore be made a water-excursion, although we have introduced it in this place:—Elberry Cove is a small inlet lying open to the east; on the north it is protected by a ledge called from its appearance the "Honeycomb Rocks," and in the south angle is the Bathing-House of J. B. Y. Buller, Esq. of Lupton. At a short distance from the beach, the surface of the water presents a curious phenomenon. A fresh-water spring, rising of course in some part of the chain of hills above the cove, makes it exit from the sandy bottom, about eight or ten feet below the surface of the sea at low water mark. There is a report that a spring loses itself in the hills above, but we have not been able to prove its accuracy. It ascends perpendicularly with considerable force and forms a smooth circle, four or five feet in diameter, on the surface of, the sea. Two of these circles are occasionally seen, in consequence, perhaps, of the accumulation of sand ; and their size, depth, and distance from each other vary at different times, according as they are influenced by the swell or weather. They are of course best seen at low tide and when the sea is smooth. In April of the present year, we made some experiments in conjunction with Mrs. Griffiths,‡ in order to ascertain the character of the water ejected by this spring. The result was satisfactory, and proved that it was a body of fresh water pouring out of an aperture of large size, and with such strength that the

‡ We beg also to express our acknowledgments for the obliging assistance of Miss Amelia Griffiths on this occasion.

sand disturbed was forced by its power to the surface. The appearances within the circle resembled the effect of oil poured on the water, nor were they much affected by the ripple, which was playing on the waves around it. The temperature could not be accurately determined, but it did not seem to be higher than that of the sea. The volume of fresh water must be considerable as the salt taste of the sea perceptibly diminishes in the neighbourhood of the spring. This phenomenon will be visited by the natural philosopher with much pleasure, and independently of the interest excited by it, Elberry Cove has the honor of being the habitat of Rhodomenia Teedii.
- pp103-104, The Panorama of Torquay (a descriptive and historical sketch of the district comprised between the Dart and Teign), Octavian Blewitt, pub. Simkin, Torquay, 1832 (Internet Archive panoramaoftorqua00blew).

That the recent death of Mr. Griffiths, was caused either by "love or madness," I will not presume to say. From the Orthodox Churchman's Magazine for August, 1802. "The Rev. William Griffiths, vicar of St. Issey, near St. Columb, on Saturday morning the 31st ult. took his horse, and said that he intended to go to Lanherne (a seat of Lord Arundell, ahout two miles from St. Columb) to see the nuns, and that if he did not return to St. Issey to dinner, he should dine at St. Columb, and retnrn home in the evening. On his not returning to St. Issey as expected, Mrs. Griffiths grew very uneasy, and sent several persons in search of him on Saturday night, but in vain; and on Sunday morning his horse was found in a field near the cliff at Mawgan, and his whip was stuck up near the cliff. As he had been seen there riding to and fro several times on Saturday afternoon, it was immediately conjectured that he had fallen over the cliff into the sea. On searching the cliff, his body was discovered under water, and was drawn up by ropes; but though the cliff was very high and rugged, he did not appear to be much bruised by the fall; his spurs were found one in each pocket of his coat, and a gold ring in his coat pocket. The coroner, (Mr. Hamlcy of Bodmin) was sent for immediately, and the jury brought in their verdict "accidental death." He is generally lamented by his parishioners, as well as by every person who knew him in the neighbourhood, and has left a widow and five children to mourn the loss of an affectionate husband and a tender father.
-  The History of Cornwall, Richard Polwhele, 1816

 

Dean Spanley, a dog ("the hell of a dog") in a former incarnation, under the influence of Tokay indulges in reminiscence and discloses the character of a canine Tartarin. A waggish, affectionate interpretation of dog behaviour from the dog-patron's point of view, with some good mock-serious passages.
- The London Mercury - Volume 35 - Page 254, 1936

A whimsical book about dogs which ought to rank high among the classics of its kind. It is a rare little joke of a book, a delightful treasure, and a bewitching fable.
- The Reader's Digest - Volumes 30-31, 1937

Lying in shore all day, and getting provisions and water, — which we took without asking, for the people had all fled from the town, — we left as night came on; and daybreak next morning found us inside Exmouth bar, where a couple of ancient forts had been reduced to ruins by a hostile cruiser a few days before. It was a thick, heavy night coming round, and we saw nothing of the ironclads supposed to be beleaguering Plymouth, beyond a stray ship that nearly ran down No. 45, and got torpedoed in return. The Solent was our objective, and Blake did not wish to risk an alarm reaching there for the sake of destroying a few ships off Plymouth that could very well wait till we came back again.

At Exmouth, where we still posed as Russians, Blake and many others of us went ashore, to get such newspapers as were obtainable. As an English-speaking Russian, our commodore interviewed some of the principal residents under a flag of truce ; and, getting hold of one who appeared to be trustworthy, revealed his true identity to him. The latter, who was taken completely by surprise, on his part told Blake that he had sent a messenger to Lympstone, the nearest telegraph office, with instructions to wire to Exeter for troops that must already be on their way. This was an awkward contretemps : we did not wish to shoot down our own countrymen; but, on the other hand, if they once got to hear that we were an English force, the news might reach the enemy, and our great attack prove a failure. Finally, Blake decided to stay where we were under the flag of truce, and when the military arrived, — a company of the Devonshire Regiment Militia and a half battalion of volunteers, — they seemed disposed to go for our small force right away, and were with difficulty restrained. Of course, when Blake explained matters in confidence to Colonel Toppe-Higgins, the officer in command, the latter withdrew his troops, who were given to understand that an armistice was arranged till the evening ; and they spent the rest of the day in putting. up entrenchments on the hill around the church. I do not know how it was that none of them recognised our uniforms, unless it was that all naval uniforms are very similar to each other, and they could hardly be expected to be familiar with the details of the Russian one. Anyway, everybody seemed satisfied as to our foreign origin, and we were congratulating ourselves on a day in harbour without further trouble, when an incident occurred that nearly wrecked all our plans.

The residents, on learning that no fighting was likely to take place for several hours, got over their first terror; and soon we were surrounded by quite a crowd of people, curious to behold the dreaded foe. We, I should explain, were on the beach ; the townsfolk promenaded on the sea-wall to gaze at us; and it was while idly watching the procession that my eye lighted on a figure that seemed familiar to me, a lady dressed in deep mourning. She, or the people she was with, had just stopped to look at the supposed Russians, when she came almost face to face with Blake. For a moment they faced each other in silent astonishment, then, with a cry, ''Edward, my darling — my love ! you are not dead after all ! " she rushed down the steps, and Blake held her in his arms.

He would have been more than human to have been able to keep up the Russian disguise, and a moment later we were known to be English. Cheers rent the air, an enthusiastic crowd fell about us ; we were welcomed as the saviours of a nation. The news spread like wildfire; our carefully-kept secret was ours no longer; it was the property of a thousand tongues.

Then it was that Garron of the Hornet saved us. Realising that, unless immediate measures were taken, the news would soon spread beyond the limits of Exmouth, he hastened to the soldiers and persuaded the colonel to form a cordon round the town. Recognising the importance of this precaution, that officer at once posted his men, with instructions to shoot anyone attempting to force a passage through; nor was he a moment too soon, for several people were captured, some of them after a lengthy chase, who had started for the nearest telegraph office to flash the good news about the country.

- Blake of the "Rattlesnake" (Fred T Jane, Tower Publishing Company, London, 1895, Internet Archive blakerattlesnak00janegoog).

Torpedo attack on the HMS Nelson

I have not sought or attempted in this story to settle any vexed questions of theories or tactics; such matters are no concern of mine. I have tried instead to work into story-form some of the romance that clings thick around the torpedo service, to set forth  some of the poetry latent in torpedo craft. ...
I venture to hope that this attempt to depict modern warfare from the Service point of view will convince the present and the rising generation that scientific advance has not yet eliminated the romance that, let peace-faddists say what they will, clings, and ever has clung around war; and that man — the vir— is not yet supplanted by man — the homo.

Deck plan of the HMS Rattlesnake

"The attitude bespoke anguish" - from The Graphic (Summer 1883): 19. Scanned image and text Philip V. Allingham, The Victorian Web

It was half-past four o'clock (by the testimony of the land-surveyor, my authority for the particulars of this story, a gentleman with the faintest curve of humour on his lips); it was half-past four o'clock on a May morning in the eighteen forties. A dense white fog hung over the Valley of the Exe, ending against the hills on either side.

But though nothing in the vale could be seen from higher ground, notes of differing kinds gave pretty clear indications that bustling life was going on there. This audible presence and visual absence of an active scene had a peculiar effect above the fog level. Nature had laid a white hand over the creatures ensconced within the vale, as a hand might be laid over a nest of chirping birds.

It would be a wild goose chase to search for any of the background in or near the Exe valley. Some of the original topography is interesting. The yacht which carries the Baron away to sea had waited in a cove which must be Lulworth, from 'the miniature Pillars of Hercules' which form its mouth'. Jim's chase of the Baron and Margery began at the review which was held on a hill outside Casterbridge. This must be Poundbury or 'Pummery' (outside Dorchester).

Still from A Summer Story

Surely there was something familiar about this view, this bit of common, that ribbon of road, the old wall behind him. While they were driving he had not been taking notice—never did; thinking of far things or of nothing—but now he saw! Twenty-six years ago, just at this time of year, from the farmhouse within half a mile of this very spot he had started for that day in Torquay whence it might be said he had never returned. And a sudden ache beset his heart; he had stumbled on just one of those past moments in his life, whose beauty and rapture he had failed to arrest, whose wings had fluttered away into the unknown; he had stumbled on a buried memory, a wild sweet time, swiftly choked and ended. And, turning on his face, he rested his chin on his hands, and stared at the short grass where the little blue milkwort was growing....

And this is what he remembered. 

"To-morrow I'll go to Torquay and get some money, and get you some clothes that won't be noticed, and then we'll steal away. And when we get to London, soon perhaps, if you love me well enough, we'll be married."

The segment filmed on Sidmouth sea front, with Peak Hill beyond

They had walked that day from Brent, intending to make Chagford, but Ashurst's football knee had given out, and according to their map they had still some seven miles to go.

Var's gravestone, Brixham Heritage Museum - photo by permission

A Reminiscence of the Rev. H. F. Lyte.— A correspondent sends us the following : — Being at Brixham lately, we took a walk over some fields on the Parkham estate, on the high level above the Bolton hotel, where my attention was called to a tablet fixed in a cavity on the face of a bold jutting rock, about five feet from the ground, on which was inscribed the following : —

Here lies VAR. lapdog of the Right Hon. Lady Farnham.
Breathe gentle spring, breathe on this grassy mound.
And sing ye birds and bloom ye flowers around,
Ye suns and dews make green the resting place
Of honest VAR, the noblest of his race.
Gentle, yet fearless, active, fond, and true,
He reads, proud man, a lesson here to you.
And bids you (happy might you hear) to be
Guiltless in life and calm in death as he.
Go, and as faithful to YOUR master prove,
As firm in duty and as strong in love.
You will not find this moment here mis-spent
In musing o'er a SPANIEL'S monument.
May, 1826.

It is difficult to conceive why so secluded a spot should have been chosen for fixing so poetic a memorial to a faithful friend. S.S.

Referring to the lines on "Honest Var," which appeared in our paper on Thursday last, we have received from a correspondent the following interesting particulars :— Lady Farnham, to whom "Var" belonged, was the aunt of Mrs. Hogg, of Berry Head house, whose father, the Rev. H. F. Lyte, vicar of Lower Brixham at the time, and author of that well-known hymn "Abide with me,"&c., wrote the poetic epitaph inscribed to "Var's" memory. Lady Farnham and her son, Lord Farnham and his wife, were burned to death in the memorable Abergele railway accident some years ago. She once lived at Burton house, Brixham, which accounts for the memorial being erected where it is — so says our correspondent. Western Times Extract, December l0th, 1888.
- The Western Antiquary; or Devon and Cornwall Note-Book, ed. WHK Wright (Vol. VIII, Jul 1888 - June 1889, page 121, Internet Archive westernantiquar01wriggoog).

These lines are Mr. Lyte's own composition, and, as far as I am aware, have never appeared in print before.

I had some difficulty in deciphering them. This genuine relic of a great man is in a sad state of decay.

During his early ministry at Brixham Mr. Lyte resided at Burton House, behind which, in the fields, may be seen a large rock, which forms a picturesque object on a sloping bank, in which there is fixed a tablet bearing a poetical inscription which he wrote in memory of a much-loved dog which belonged to Lady Farnham, with whom the Lyte family were intimately associated.

He had a deep love for animals and birds. At Burton House he kept an eagle, which was generally to be seen chained to a tree.

The Parson and the Clerk

All real old stories of long ago should begin with "Once upon a time," and so, once upon a time there was a Bishop of Exeter who lay very ill at Dawlish, on the South Devon coast, and among those who visited him frequently was the parson of an inland parish who was ambitious enough to hope that, should the good bishop die, he would be chosen to fill his place.

This parson was a man of violent temper, and his continued visits to the sick man did not improve this, for his journey was a long and dreary one, and the bishop, he thought, took an unconscionable time in dying. But he had to maintain his reputation for piety, and so it happened that on a winter night he was riding towards Dawlish through the rain, guided, as was his custom, by his parish clerk.

That particular night the clerk had lost his way, and, long after he and his master should have been in comfortable quarters at Dawlish, they were wandering about on the high rough ground of Haldon, some distance from the village. At last, in anger, the parson turned upon his clerk and rebuked him violently. "You are useless," he said; "I would rather have the devil for a guide than you." The clerk mumbled some excuse, and presently the two came upon a peasant, mounted upon a moor pony, to whom they explained their plight.

The stranger at once offered to guide them, and very soon all three had reached the outskirts of the little coast town. Both parson and clerk were wet through, and when their guide, stopping by an old, tumble-down house, invited them to enter and take some refreshment, both eagerly agreed. They entered the house and found there a large company of wild-looking men engaged in drinking from heavy black-jacks, and singing loud choruses. The parson and his servant made their way to a quiet corner and enjoyed a good meal, then, feeling better, agreed to stay for a while and join their boisterous companions.

But they stayed for a very long while. The drink flowed freely and both grew uproarious, the parson singing songs with the best of the company and shouting the choruses louder than any. In this manner they spent the whole night, and it was not until dawn broke that the priest suggested moving onward. So none too soberly he called for the horses.

At this moment the news arrived that the bishop was dead. This excited the parson, who wished at once to get to work to further his ambitious designs, so he pushed the clerk into the saddle and hastily mounted himself. But the horses would not move. The parson, in a passion, cried, "I believe the devil is in the horses!"

"I believe he is," said the clerk thickly, and with that a roar of unearthly laughter broke out all around them. Then the now terrified men observed that their boisterous friends were dancing about in glee and each had turned into a leering demon. The house in which they had passed the night had completely disappeared, and the road in which they stood was transformed into the sea-shore, upon which huge waves were breaking, some already submerging the clerk.

With a wild cry of terror the parson lashed once more at his horse, but without avail. He felt himself growing stiff and dizzy—and then consciousness passed from him.

Neither he nor his clerk ever returned to their parish, but that morning the people of Dawlish saw two strange red rocks standing off the cliffs, and later, learning this story, they realised that the demons had changed the evil priest and his man into these forms.

Time and weather have wrought many changes in the Parson and Clerk Rocks, not the least curious being to carve upon the Parson Rock the semblance of the two revellers. From certain positions you may see to-day the profiles of both men, the parson as it were in his pulpit, and the clerk at his desk beneath him.

The red cliffs around Dawlish make the place peculiarly attractive at first sight, and the attraction is not lessened by familiarity with the town. It enjoys the best of the famous South Devon climate; warm in winter and ever cooled by the sea breeze in summer, it is an excellent holiday centre. Historic Exeter is close at hand and Dartmoor within afternoon excursion distance.

We regret to learn of the recent death of Mr. G. Basil Barham, who was editor of the Contract Journal from 1924 to 1941. In his earlier days he was an electrical engineer and was associated with the Edison & Swan Electric Light Co.

BARHAM, G. Basil, C.E. Ed. Contract Jl. Special Commissioner for important overseas jls., etc. Au. of The Girl of the Friary; Hist, of the Electric Lamp; The Oldest Road; Legend Land of Lyonesse; Blue Stone Roads; Heart of the Midlands. C. Times, Dy. Teleg., Morn. Post, Dy. Mail, M/c Guard., New York Sun., Sydney Her., etc, TAPPINGTON, 3. PERRYN ROAD, EAST ACTON, W.3.

Volume 1 - Project Gutenberg #20170

The Mermaid of Zennor
The Stone Men of St. Cleer
How St. Piran Came to Cornwall
The Lost Child of St. Allen
The Giants who Built the Mount
The Tasks of Tregeagle
The Lady of Llyn-y-Fan Fach
St. David and His Mother
The Vengeance of the Fairies
The Old Woman who Fooled the Devil
The Women Soldiers of Fishguard
How Bala Lake Began
The Furry Day Song (Supplement)

Volume 2 - Project Gutenberg #20249

The Church the Devil Stole
The Parson and the Clerk
The Weaver of Dean Combe
The Demon Who Helped Drake
The Samson of Tavistock
The Midnight Hunter of the Moor
The Lost Land of Lyonesse
The Piskie's Funeral
The Spectre Coach
St. Neot, the Pigmy Saint
The Old Man of Cury
The Hooting Carn
The Padstow May Day Songs (Supplement)

Ware Cliffs are a short distance west of the town. Chimney Rock (which takes its name from a near resemblance to a house with a chimney on it) appears to the right, projecting from the cliff, and is covered with ivy and mistletoe of the most luxuriant growth. Parties, in their rambles, frequently call in at the dairy-house to take syllabubs, &c.
- The History of Lyme-Regis, Dorset, from the Earliest Periods to the Present Day, George Roberts, Langdon and Harker, 1823, p143.

Walking along some lovely fertile surfaces of pasturage, with rocks and mounds on either side of you, another favourite eminence presents itself, and the several beaten tracks leading up to it from the undercliff, through green bushes and bowers of clematis, afford unmistakable evidence that the Chimney Rock, a ponderous crag jutting out from the cliff, arouses the curiosity of visitors. Looking at it from a distance, it resembles a weather-beaten old castle—the abode of wicked giants, perhaps, before Jack, the hero of our nursery tales, was sent into the world to climb up his beanstalk and slay them. Ivy and other trailing plants cling affectionately around its grey solid walls, and the grounds around the "castle" seem to give you the idea that the giants at one time had splendid gardens there—gardens which are now overgrown with luxurious thickets, in which, during the gladsome spring, the "wakeful nightingale" descants her amorous song in a delirium of delight. The view from this eminence is particularly delightful. The true character of the great undercliff presents itself at a glance—its chaotic mass of mounds and boulders, of steep banks and crags, and of pretty woodland scenes of untiring variety. The deep blue sea, with white-winged craft floating gracefully upon its bosom, is sparkling in the sunshine, and in the distance can be seen the undulating hills of Dorset, rolling up towards those rocky barriers.
- Seaton, Beer, and neighbourhood: Across the landslip and out of the gates of Devon. The valley of the Axe, with brief allusions to Axmouth, Colyton, Shute, Musbury, and Ford Abbey. George Frederick Munford, The Western Gazette &c. Co., Beer, 1890.

Ware House

• The History of Lyme Regis, Langdon and Harker, Sherborne, 1823, Internet Archive historylymeregi00robegoog.
• A Guide descriptive of the Beauties of Lyme Regis, with a Description of the Great Storm [of 23 Nov.] 1824, already published in the Sherborne Mercury, and issued separately, 1830, Google Books ID pJ5YAAAAcAAJ.
• History and Antiquities of the Borough of Lyme Regis and Charmouth, S. Bagster and W. Pickering, Charmouth, 1834, Google Books ID T_kVAAAAYAAJ. "Two editions were issued, one of them with a tract on The Municipal Government of Lyme Regis and an Account of the Corporation, which was also issued separately".
• Etymological and Explanatory Dictionary of the Terms and Language of Geology, Longman, London, 1839, Internet Archive anetymologicala00robegoog.
• Account of the Mighty Landslip at Dowlands and Bindon, near Lyme Regis, on 25 Dec. 1839, Daniel Dunster, Lyme, 1840. British Library, System number 014796344."This tract went through five editions that year".
• Terms and Language of Trade and Commerce, Longman, London, 1841, Internet Archive termsandlanguag00robegoog.
• Life, Progresses, and Rebellion of James, Duke of Monmouth, with a full Account of the Bloody Assize, 1844, 2 vols. Volume 1: Internet Archive lifeprogressesre01robeuoft / Volume 2: Internet Archive lifeprogressesre02robeuoft
• Diary of Walter Yonge, (editor), Camden Society, 1848, Internet Archive diaryofwalteryon00yongrich.
• The Social History of the People of the Southern Counties of England in Past Centuries,’ Longman, London, 1856, Internet Archive socialhistoryofp00robeuoft - "dedicated to Macaulay, and mainly based on the archives of Lyme Regis and Weymouth, the proceedings of the Dorset County Sessions, 1625–37, and the proceedings before the Dorchester magistrates, 1654–1661".

Lyme Regis Museum © Copyright Chris Talbot, licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence. I used this one because I couldn't get a clear shot without someone pithering about to park a car, and I didn't have all day.

... and, above all, Pinny, with its green chasms between romantic rocks, where the scattered forest trees and orchards of luxuriant growth, declare that many a generation must have passed away since the first partial falling of the cliff prepared the ground for such a state, where a scene so wonderful and so lovely is exhibited, as may more than equal any of the resembling scenes of the far-famed Isle of Wight: these places must be visited, and visited again, to make the worth of Lyme understood.
- Jane Austen, Persuasion

"The Umble Rock near Lyme Regis" - Coplestone Warre Bampfylde See V&A record for better image.

It may be said that here a struggle seems to take place between the genius of the mountain, and that of the vale.—Here is met with fertility,—there the rugged cliff,—there the majestically towering White Chapel rocks, bidding proud defiance,—here gently swelling hills, studded with trees of luxuriant growth :— a happy combination of Alpine scenery, and Italian landscape.
...
Under the cliffs, another path leads to some detached rocks, venerably mantled with ivy and moss, which are the building places for thousands‘of Daws, that are frequently disturbed by the hilarity of Pic nic, and Gipsying Parties;—a deviation from the path, in order to obtain different points of view, exposes one to irregularities of a fatiguing character; but what! if the fair Gipsy (like a lamb rushing through a thicket) should leave a tribute of her dress on the surrounding briars? What! if her garments be soiled and torn? What! though her path be through brambles, her feet pierced by thorns? What! 'though she lose her way, and wander, twilight approaching, farther, and still further from her pic nic camp? Is not every step on romantic ground? Do not new embellishments, features, and combinations continually rise into view, causing a rapture that renders one insensible to pain or fatigue?
- A Descriptive Sketch of Sidmouth, Theodore Hands Mogridge, J. Harvey, 1838, p138

Steamers bring parties from Weymouth, Torquay and other western watering-places. Two Ashantee princes, and many distinguished persons, have visited the spot. A thousand tickets were issued in one day in August. Persons coming from Torquay paid five shillings for the trip there and back.

Contemporary poster for the fete at the slip site (photographed at Lyme Museum)

William Dawson's classic 1841 Undercliff Model - see Lyme Regis Museum paper by Thea Hawksworth

William Dawson's View of the Great Chasm of the Axmouth Landslip

Title page of Ricardo Linter's The Landslip Quadrille The History of the Study of Landforms: Quaternary and recent processes and forms (1890-1965) and the mid-century revolutions comments that this is "the only geomorphological event, other than the Noachian Deluge, or Flood, to be celebrated by a piece of music".

Golden Cap

General view of hall, looking toward Worshipful Master's Chair and canopy The central object is the altar, which stands on a chequered mosaic carpet, whose white and black squares represent the goods and evils of life

DEVONSHIRE.
Topsham.
Provincial Grand Lodge And Consecration Of Brent Lodge (no. 1,284).
The consecration of this lodge was fixed and took place on Tuesday, the 31st ult., Bro. Col. Brent, of Woodbury, being the W.M. Designate.
A somewhat novel feature in the establishing of a new lodge was here introduced, the ceremony of consecration taking place simultaneously with the dedication of a new hall, or lodge-room, which stands on a plot of ground adjoining the Globe Hotel. Its position in connection with the adjacent buildings is such that no attempt has been made to give the structure an imposing appearance on the outside, but it has a tasteful, beautiful, and costly interior. The hall is 50 feet long by 25 feet wide, and 20 feet high. At the east or upper end of the room are the W.M.'s chair, dais, and canopy. The chair and canopy is a handsome piece of work, said to have cost £50. The back is finely curved, and adorned with a representation of "the All-Seeing Eye," and the usual Masonic emblems. The seat is of crimson leather. The canopy is supported on square fluted columns in white and gold, with Corinthian capitals, and over the canopy, on a crimson panel, are placed the Brent Arms, with the motto, "Metuenda corolla draconis." At the west end of the room is the S.W.'s seat, and on the south side is that of the J.W., each fronted with a small triangular table representing white marble, and standing on a pedestal of three steps covered with chequered cloth to correspond with the carpet. On the north side of the room is a handsome chimney-piece of Beer stone, finely carved, surmounted by the Brent Arms. The room is well lighted by brilliant gilt gas burners, suspended from tasteful bosses on the panels of the ceiling, while corresponding bosses

Globe Hall (left), the original venue for Brent Lodge

adorn the line of cornice round the spring of the roof. The windows, which are Roman shaped, are partly filled with crimson, purple, and violet glass. The "tracing-boards," representing some of the inner and outer scenes of a Masonic lodge, are considered to be among the finest in Devonshire. There are ante rooms and an entrance hall fitted up with equal regard to appearance and taste. The architect of this building is Mr Harbottle; to whom also the credit is due for much of the admirable decoration; the builder is Mr. John Moass, of Exeter, who also supplied the seats and other moveables. The Grand Master's chair and canopy were designed and carved by Mr Sendell, of Castle-streot, Exeter, who has also executed all the wood-carving of the ceiling, and supplies the oak chairs provided for the S.W., J.W., P.M., Secretary, and Treasurer, as well as the table; a prettily-toned harmonium with which the room is. furnished was supplied by Mr Godolphin. The warrant frame has been made by the Messrs. Rowden from an old piece of oak, taken from the destroyed tower of St. Mary Major's Church, Exeter.
-The Freemasons' Magazine and Masonic Mirror, June 4, 1870, page 453

Worshipful Master's Chair and canopy

"Arms: Gules a wyvern argent. Crest: A wyvern's head between two wings expanded argent"
- Virginia Heraldica, 1908

Worshipful Master's Chair (detail) - the All-Seeing Eye at centre.

Worshipful Master's Chair, warrant frame behind

Symbolic stonemasonry tools

Senior Warden's chair: the suspended stone in the tripod is held by a Lewis, which is symbolic as well as practical

Colonel Robert Brent - "This portrait was presented to Brent Lodge 1284 by Mrs Brent Spencer in memory of her husband Colonel Robert Brent, one of the founders and first Worshipful Master of the Lodge, September 1902" (The portrait is distinctly glamourised: Brent headed an administrative brigade).

Two pillars topped with globes flank the symbolic west end of the hall. The pillars represent those of Solomon's Temple; the globes are a historical embellishment whose origin and meaning are unclear (see Ars Quatuor Coronatorum).

Junior Warden's chair

The north side: Masonic symbolism mingled with Brent heraldry. This appears to be the carved chimney-piece of Beer stone from the original premises at Globe Hall.

Regalia

Regalia

Peter Capaldi embarks upon a personal journey to discover the shocking history of the stars of north London's famous film studios. Including clips from rarely seen films and interviews with Marcia Warren and Terry Gilliam.

It is necessary for a carriage to go round the head of the valley by Slade, in order to reach Weston House, the ruins of which are seen at a distance. This mansion, when the property of Stuckey Bartlett, Esq., was consumed by fire, and has never been rebuilt. The author went over with some school-fellows the next day, and burnt the soles of his shoes among the still smouldering ruins. He brought back a mass of lead, which had run off the roof in a moulten state, and had formed itself into a heap on the ground, where the drops had cooled as they fell. The marble mantel pieces, burnt into lime, could be easily broken with the hands, like a biscuit.
-  p.89, A new guide to Sidmouth and the neighbourhood, Peter Orlando Hutchinson, 1857

 

Sacred to the Memory of / John Stuckey of Weston Esqr - / the only surviving issue of Robert Stuckey Esqr - and Mary his excellent wife / the sole daughter and heiress of William Bartlett of Hole in this Parish Gent. / His Superior Talents, elegant accomplishments / and many estimable Qualities, amply fitted him for the most refined Society, and his knowledge in the Laws of his Country ; highly qualified him for the very important Duties of a Magistrate, which he discharged / with the greatest independence and integrity, and with consummate Ability, and though advanced Years / and their Infirmities, occasioned his retirement from the World / yet he preserved to the last, those active Powers of Mind and Memory, for which he had been so eminently / conspicuous through Life. / He died unmarried on the 26 th day of January 1810, aged 91 years. /

This Monument was erected by Barnaby John Stuckey Bartlett his Relation and sole executor, / In Testimony of the most grateful and affectionate Regard for his Memory. /

He died possessed of vast worldly property which, after he had long possessed without enjoying and without using, he was at length constrained to leave to others. Buried 3 February.
- Thomas Puddicombe, Brancombe parish burials register, quoted in A Guide to the Church of Saint Winifred, Branscombe, Ronald Branscombe, 1996 

In a letter written in 1801, by John Stuckey, of Weston, to his cousin, Thomas Langdon, my great grandfather, he is then spoken of, "Our Methodist raving, ranting preacher, Puddicombe, is become the most intolerable scoundrel that ever a parish was cursed with”
- FEW Langdon, Devon Notes & Queries, Vol. II, Jan 1902 - Oct 1903, page 37

John Stuckey, esq. 95. He has left the bulk of his fortune, above 6000l. per annual, to his relative, B. Bartlett, esq. of the General Post-office, nephew to Mr. Palmer, of Bath. Mr. Stuckey has likewise left 3000l. per annum to Vincent Stuckey, esq. of the Treasury … Mr. Latouch and Mr. Stuckey, of Weston house, near Sidmouth, who died on the same day, are said to have possessed property to the amount of nearly a million sterling.
- The Monthly Magazine, Apr 1, 1810

Mr. Stuckey built a handsome Grecian villa; but being destroyed by fire, many years ago, and never renewed, it now exhibits a solitary ruin.
- The Beauties of the Shore; Or, A Guide to the Watering-places on the South-east Coast of Devon, DM Stirling, Roberts, 1838, pages 105-106

J. Stuckey, Esq. erected a handsome mansion, in the Grecian style, which was bequeathed to the present possessor, J. Bartlett Stuckey; a few years since it was completely gutted by fire, and nought save the bare walls remain, which yet appear in a good state of preservation. Desolation seems to reign over the place, the court-yard is overgrown with weeds; altogether it forcibly reminds one of the beautiful and pathetic lines of Ossian.
“I have seen the walls of Balclutha; but they are
“desolate.—The fire hath resounded within the walls,
“and the voice of the people is now heard no more.—
“ The stream of Clutha is removed from its place by the
“fall of the walls—The fox looked out of the window;
“the rank grass waved round his head. Desolate is the
“dwelling of Moina; silence is in the house of her
“fathers.”
- A Descriptive Sketch of Sidmouth, Theodore Hands Mogridge, J. Harvey, 1838, page 130

In the next combe is a monument of past ambition in the burnt ruins of Weston House, which if it had remained Weston Farm would doubtless have been rebuilt and flourishing. In that remote spot the owner, some two centuries ago, rebuilt his ancient home in the strictest form of Italian art, though on a modest scale (for large houses did not form part of the ambition of the old knights of Devon). He added a mansion to his farm, in a place so remote that he alone and his household could have enjoyed the sight of it on most days of the year. It now stands roofless and burnt, its fine piers without gates, and its Grecian mouldings injured.
- Seaside Farms, The Spectator, 28 January, 1905