"It is absolutely impossible to picture the scene of desolation revealed at daybreak on the morning of the 10th all round the house. The ground was strewn and literally covered with fallen slates and branches of trees. The appearance of the courtyard, or quadrangle, presented that of a grave-yard, the slates in all shapes, sizes, and forms, standing on end, like grave-stones projecting above the snow.
"Notwithstanding the great number of huge trees levelled all round the house, neither the inmates of Cotehele, nor a single individual outside, once heard the crash of falling timber above the fierce howling of the blast.
"We inside the house, at much risk, and after much labour, managed to find and secure the displaced skylights, and from that time, 7 P.M. till 4 A.M., we were hard at work clearing rooms of the snow and barricading broken windows with whatever material came first to hand, such as packing-cases, door-mats, old books and cardboard, battened firmly into the granite mullions. Many times during the fierce cannonade we feared the whole building would collapse, but beyond shattered windows and roof, the granite walls remain intact, and during the storm fires had to be extinguished, smoke and flames being driven into the room and the occupants driven out.
"A somewhat remarkable incident in reference to this may here be recorded. Perched on the extreme point of an abrupt and precipitous rock, overhanging the river Tamar, stands the venerable old fane, better known as Sir Richard Edgcumbe's Chapel. Right and left of the building, nearly the whole of the timber was levelled, but the Chapel itself and a small clump of sturdy oaks surrounding the spot are, with the building, left intact, save one small insignificant tree whose roots and fangs were clinging to an almost barren piece of rock.
A FALLEN MONARCH, COTEHELE, CALSTOCK.
"On an examination of the Cotehele Woods, the scene presented gives one the idea of an earthquake rather than that of a storm. The majority of the hundreds of trees vary from two to three hundred years and even older, torn up by the roots, and tearing up like so much turf yards of macadamized road and huge blocks of strong stone walls, leaving their ponderous roots standing erect, to which may be seen clinging several tons of huge rock firmly clasped by root and soil, and in many instances, these giants of the forest are found lying athwart each other, shewing the storm to have practised all the antics of a whirlwind." A huge fallen tree, lying prone across a pathway in the woods, may be seen in the above illustration, which is from a photograph taken by Mr. Rowe, public librarian, Devonport.
A description of another scene of melancholy devastation, written in April, some weeks after the storm, said:—
"At Maristowe, the seat of the Right Hon. Sir Massey Lopes, Bart., the storm did irreparable damage on Monday. The grounds presented on Tuesday a scene of terrible desolation, and even now it can be seen that the beauties of Maristowe are all destroyed. Mr. Merson, steward to Sir Massey, states that fifty thousand trees are down, and that the respected owner is much affected by his loss. Nearly all the lime trees in the avenue leading from the croquet and tennis lawns to the garden, and which formed the chief attraction to visitors, are lying in hopeless confusion, and the avenue, considered the most beautiful walk in all Devonshire, is now utterly impassable and destroyed for ever. In the main coach road, from the gamekeeper's lodge to the mansion, fifty beautiful beeches have fallen.