Combpyne Rousdon Church of St Mary Description
- A lovely ancient mainly 13th century church
- A distinctive saddleback roofed tower
- A well preserved interior
- Apotropaic graffiti inside
- A 15th century wall painting of a ship
- Some 17th century scripture wall paintings
- A very nice old sanctuary with medieval wall plate bosses
- A powerful 19th century Last Supper painting
- A gorgeous survival of a small country church
Combpyne Rousdon Church of St Mary
Combpyne Rousdon Church, an eye-catching tower roof and an ancient structure in a pretty valley…things are looking good.
Saddleback roofs on medieval church towers are rare enough anywhere in England, here in Devon only this one exists; they are more popular in continental Europe. Taste, snow shedding, tradition, all these are potential explanations, with snow shedding (look at its steep pitch) likely inching ahead in some areas, but here… ?
It is very near two major medieval ports, Axmouth and Lyme Regis, so maybe a traveller brought the style back…?
A poor parish
The parish itself was landlocked until the twentieth century when it merged with coastal Rousdon to the south; it was also very small and very poor.
The Parishioners consist—with the exception of two Farmers—solely of Poor Labourers…
Western Times: 02/021877
Ultimately it was probably cheaper to roof the tower the same as the nave and chancel, though that steep saddleback gives extra height to what is, to be fair, quite a short and rough tower.
The whole church is small and farmer built, rough, honest, solid, probably on a Saxon footprint, and dating from the 1200s. There was a dispute about the ownership of the church living back in 1185 which Pope Urban III got involved in; this place has history.
The Coffin family owned it back in 1166, when it was known as Combe Coffin, and then in 1278 Sir Thomas de Pyn took over the manor which led to the present name change, ‘combe’ being Devon for valley.
Apart from the bonniness of its ragamuffin structure, the chancel and nave (the chancel is at the front here) probably show the pattern that most churches in the county had before they expanded and adapted to taste and liturgies.
That East Window, triple lancet as we say in the trade, seems very original…
A medieval window
Whilst this darling was probably punched through the chancel wall in the fifteenth century, that carved top being a giveaway.
Why? Well, more light seems an obvious reason to us moderns, but more light equalled less heat (glazing, if there was any, being very not windproof), and really light is only better if you have things to look at that need light. Books, for example.
Clergy were starting to be more literate and were being told they had to possess certain books, and then there were music books too, chanting really taking off in England by this time.
‘Better literate’ does not mean they were illiterate before, but there were (and still are) different degrees of literacy: functional, the very basic necessities; technical, reading jargon as in medical or priesting; scholarly, or totally rocking it to a degree where most folks’ eyes glaze over.
And country priests were rising up the scale from functional to technical, especially as books became more and more available and the church authorities themselves were demanding the clergy to upskill.
There was even a youth opportunity scheme where they gave a parish to a promising lad, not yet ordained, and the parish tithes were used to pay for that same lad to attend Oxford University for five to seven years; the lad had to rise through the ranks of clergy, from sub-deacon to deacon to priest, as he studied.
And the evidence shows that this worked; it produced many more educated priests fit for the modern age.
Inside Combpyne Rousdon Church
Some of whom ended up here, in this elegantly simple interior, with that gorgeously curved chancel arch framing the altar so well.
Seventeenth century painted texts on the walls as well, and more…
Mystery and meaning
Near the font, inside the tower, this.
The age of this graffiti is not sure, but most likely was put here with when original tower was built in the thirteenth century. There is another similar sign on the north doorway and a couple of pentacles above the north and south doors on the outside.
‘Graffiti’ here is used in its pure meaning, designs drawn or scratched onto surfaces by individuals. It comes from the Italian word ‘graffiato’ meaning scratched.
Churches tend to have a fair amount, only recently studied and not yet fully understood. It is so common that modern scholars suspect it was actively encouraged to some extent, often having a devotional or ritual meaning. A scratched foot might be part of prayer to cure lameness, a saint’s symbol as a request for intercession, a personal name or initials as part of a dedication or petition…
This one is a tad cross-like, so some folk claim that it is one of the original consecration crosses; these were placed on the church walls as part of the consecration ceremony, the setting aside of the space as belonging to the Divine, by the bishop.
That does not necessarily mean that they come from the time it was built. At the Council of London in 1237 it was announced…
We find many churches, and even cathedrals which, though long since built, have never been consecrated with the sacred oil.
And so folk were told to get it done pronto, which they kind of did though pronto was not a word well understood out in the boondocks.
But another, probably more likely, reason for this mark and the others was to ward off evil, they were apotropaic to use jargon; both this design, known as a Daisy Wheel, and pentacles, or variations thereof, were a ritual symbol to stop or distract the Powers of Evil.
Folk accepted the reality of these powers, and nowadays we might think ‘superstition’ but this was many centuries before Sir Francis Bacon sharpened his quill and codified the scientific method; the world was a very different place. Very different.
These marks were, in a very wonderful way, expressions of a deeply held view of reality, a prayer for protection from the naughty bits… Emotionally deep, a heartfelt petition, trust in a Higher Power.
An ancient ship wall painting
A later deeply meaningful image is in the nave, a probable fifteenth century wall painting of a three masted ship with some details that are too faded to make out.
Probable fifteenth century because three masted ships only turned up early in the 1400s.
But a ship in landlocked Combpyne? A well respected historian, Harry Fox, makes a very good case that medieval Devonians crewed trading ships or fishing boats to supplement their income from other work, especially during the off season for farm work. There seems to have been thriving medieval gig economy.
So many of the parishioners would have been part time seafarers.
A votive offering?
The painting is approximately a metre square and might well have been part of a larger image; church walls back in the day were covered in devotional paintings.
This one might have been ‘votive’, an offering by a regular seaman or captain in gratitude for a safe trip or being rescued from a disaster at sea, or it might be looking to a future voyage and thus a prayer for a safe trip.
Another alternative (there are many, ask ten church historians for their opinions and you will get thirty back) is that it was part of a wall painting dedicated to St Nicholas, who by a total non-coincidence was known for looking after seafarers and saving them from ocean disaster.
As in this awesome beauty…
St Nicholas caring for sailors
A 1457 painting by Giovanni di Paolo showing St Nicholas saving a crew from a shipwreck. Not coincidentally, this used to be part of an altarpiece dedicated to St Nicholas in Montepulciano, Italy.
There are some folk who reckon this is of higher quality than our own dear Devon daubings, and they might have a point, just… But we have cider and the Italians only have wine, the poor souls. One-nil to Devon, I venture.
So our ship could well have been dedicated to St Nicholas, with a little altar beneath, endowed by the local sailors; this kind of set up is known in other parish churches.
Even more interestingly, in the church service for St Nick’s medieval feast day there are references to his rescuing of sailors in storms.
We cannot be totally sure of the wall painting’s purpose, but like the previous Daisy Wheel it was deeply meaningful, intensified very likely by the Mass celebrated at its altar.
This was connected to the sacred all around, God beside us everywhere.
Later wall paintings
By the time of the later wall paintings, seventeenth century and uncovered in 1882, what was devotional, what was sacred, had changed dramatically; no more saints, no more Romish folderols, just the Holy Scripture for us stalwart English protestants.
Or something like that. Political conformity might have come somewhere on the list too. Big boys have big guns.
But at the core of the new English church was this reverence for the very Word of God, as the bible was thought too be, and whilst these words replaced older saint paintings, they served a very similar purpose.
Because it is not the actual words that were important, but how they connected the congregation to the Divine. Just as it was not the actual ship drawings nor the actual Daisy Wheel scratchings that mattered, it was their revelation of God working in the parish and the wider community.
All flesh is grass
And here is part of a couple well-known verses from I Peter, and by well-known I mean folk would have known the verses by heart.
After all, it sums up the whole reason for these kind of images, and the driving force of the English church of that age.
For All flesh is as grass, And all the glory of man as the flower of grass. The grass withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away: But the word of the Lord endureth for ever. And this is the word which by the gospel is preached unto you.
1 Peter 1:24-25
The frailty of life and the permanence of God, once shown in images and carvings, now in well-lettered words.
A cute angel
Plus angels. Everybody loves angels. Angels are cool. They slipped those past the censors because they are messengers and carry the word of God.
But really angels are such cuties, how could anybody resist these sweeties!
The elegant chancel arch
Just as resistance is futile with this chancel arch; when masons get curves right they so definitely get them totes au point, especially when they frame an altar as enchantingly as here.
It is from the nineteenth century restoration, the original arch was about three metres higher which allowed plenty of space for a rood loft rood screen, and a painting or statue of Christ on the cross above.
Combpyne Rousdon sanctuary
Inside the chancel the Sanctuary is a mighty peaceful area, made more so by the age of its surroundings, the original triple lancet East Window and the piscina of the same age on the right hand wall.
Symbols around the sanctuary
Along the chancel wall plates are these carvings, the bottom two are Instruments of the Passion, top left an old symbol for Christ and top right the Shield of the Resurrection.
Their ages are indeterminate, especially owing to the later colouring. Best guess is that the bottom are Late Medieval originals owing to the punch marks on their shields while the top ones are later, but only a speculation.
Mary and the child Jesus
Whilst this charming stained glass window, Madonna and Child, is Victorian and worth every penny. I love Little Jesus’s far away stare and hand gestures… Planning something big, kid?
The old altar back
Looking back down the nave, the thirteenth century tower arch takes a bow and something else, on the back wall, something very interesting.
The Last Supper
The old Victorian altar back, reredos as it is called, painted in 1878 for the newly restored church by Elizabeth Campbell Collingridge.
It shows the Last Supper, a suitable subject for a reredos and it is rather good; a strong sense of story with characterful figures and a good use of colour all help create a powerful image.
Elizabeth Collinridge was one of the many bourgeois Victorian ladies whose talents would probably have blossomed hugely if she had had access to the training and artistic milieus that her fellow male artists did; ladies from lower down the social scales had a snowball in hell’s chance of getting anywhere, let alone in art, but Lizzie was able to make a start, restricted as it was.
She ended up specialising in the decorative arts, fictile art as it was called, on moveable objects, furniture being one of her canvases; interior decoration might be her chosen profession today, though who knows what avenues she would have excelled at if they had been open.
This talent of hers is shown by her design of the background of the scene, not just a bunch of vines but a real life cloth screen hanging from a realistic wooden structure with vines behind, the cloth hanging realistically.
Christ looking at us
It is the little touches that reveal her talent, those tiny nosegays placed at each point where the cloth fastens to the screen, a classy detail that.
Her figurative painting is naive, the story is strong. Here Christ is announcing that one of his disciples will betray him, and Peter on the left is leaning forward in a ‘not moi!’ pose. Lizzie is no simpleton though, Christ’s staring eyes are not looking at the disciples but straight into our own souls… Oh dear, oh dear, he is referring to all of us.
Which is one of the tropes of the gospels, when we harm others, another Child of God, we are betraying Christ.
Judas
Off to the right side some disciples are playing ‘Guess the Traitor’ while yellow-robed Judas, hunched with shame, is trying desperately to hide the bag of dosh he got for grassing up his rabbi.
Two saints
The whole reredos has two figures on either side, presumably saints but not ones I can identify. There is a little known story about St Patrick and a goat, but that seems a bit of reach.
As for the lass making a cocktail… Zilch, nada, not a sausage, moi. Is there a patron saint of cocktail shakers? If not, can we have one, pleeeeaaase…?
The whole is a charm, painted with passion and faith.
Rural peace
Just as this ancient church is a charm, full of age and faith with fascinating glimpses of people and their lives as they changed through the ages, a little church containing the world.
A wonder that, and an absolute delight.
