A curtain wall connects the gateway with a tower called St Margaret's Tower, of which merely the shell remains, smothered in overhanging ivy, brambles, long grass, and a tapestry of plants, and beneath the tower is a small, dark dungeon. To the left, across the quadrangle and along the western wall, are a number of rooms more or less imperfect that belonged to the Pomeroys' castle. They lead one into another, and contain enormous fireplaces and chimneys. Opposite the gateway the ruins are much more broken down, in parts hardly more than fragments and tall trees peer over a low wall, the crowning point of a very steep ascent.
Just inside the gateway, on the right, is the skeleton of the splendid west front, due to Sir Edward Seymour. The inner buildings, which rose in Tudor days, are of a character entirely different from that of the older remains, and the Seymours' spacious ideas were reflected in the magnificence of their castle. The windows and traces of fireplaces in the walls show that it must have been four stories high and held a maze of rooms. One becomes confused wandering through enclosed spaces, cell-like, for the great height, unbroken by floor or ceiling, gives an impression that the rooms are small. Over all is an uncomfortable sense of desertion, and the high empty windows, with stone mullions and square labels, somehow give a skull-like appearance to the frame of the west front. There is not the feeling of repose that there is about some ruins, which seem to disown their debt to man, and to be bent on pretending that they are as entirely a work of Nature as any lichen-covered boulder lying near them. I do not know if Berry Pomeroy is said to be haunted, but it awakens an uneasy sensation that it is itself a ghost--the ghost of an unsatisfied ambition, the creation of many minds who planned and toiled, soared and fell.
As a matter of fact, the Seymours' castle was never finished, and it is curious that, as it was destroyed in comparatively recent times, there should be no account of such an important event. The theory most usually accepted is that it was burned by lightning; but there is no absolute proof that this was the case.
Of the Pomeroys of Berry Pomeroy few records of much importance remain. Ralph de la Pomerai was so 'greatly assistant to William the Conqueror' in subduing this kingdom, that no less than fifty-eight lordships in Devonshire were awarded him. Henry de Pomeroy, in the reign of King John, was a powerful and rebellious noble, who must have been a terror to his weaker neighbours. Occasional glimpses of this family are given by old deeds and papers, as, for instance, in 1267, when a 'Pardon' was granted by 'Edward, eldest son of the king, to Sir Henry de la Pomeroy, who was against the king in the late disturbances in the kingdom.' About the same date is a grant by Sir Henry, 'for the health of his soul,' of the Manor of Canonteign, the advowsons of four churches, and 'other possessions to the Prior and Convent of the Blessed Mary of Martin ... by ordinance of Walter, Bishop of Exeter.'