Tetcott Church of the Holy Cross Description
- A beautiful example of an estate church
- Origins going back at least to the Early Medieval
- Present building is mainly 13/14th century
- Some fine medieval granite windows
- Quirky 16th century bench ends
- Some fine wood carving from later centuries
- Good memorials
- Beautifully situated in the West Devon countryside
Tetcott Church of the Holy Cross
Over in Devon’s far west there is a series of little parishes nestling up against the river Tamar, all pretty as pretty can be and near all perfect examples of estate churches.
Tetcott church is one of these, a very clear one indeed. Just to the North is Tetcott manor and not much else, no village, just manor and church, its original state of being; estate churches are so named because they were built by the local manor for their community, family and peasants. Many probably date from Saxon times so, tragically, slaves might have been included too.
Over time the estates were divided and separate farms came into being, sometimes sold, sometimes leased. The estate boundaries might become the parish boundaries and hamlets might spring up. In Devon a fair few parishes never developed villages, and we just find farmsteads and hamlets with a central church, probably next to the original estate manor.
Welcome to the Wild West… Devon’s that is…
That is not say there was not community, there was, strongly, meeting weekly or so at the church, taking part in the worship and all the greetings and gossip before and after, probably during as well.
Here in Tetcott, parking in the farmyard and walking down to the church, we can glimpse the beginning of these cute parishes and sweet churches, beautifully situated in our gorgeous Devon countryside.
An ancient beginning
The core of the present Tetcott Church, the nave and chancel, are probably from the 1200s, which is the date of this little lancet window on the left of the porch.
There were likely previous places of worship here, Saxon or even pre-Saxon Brittonic Celtic, when saints and holy men wandered between Ireland, South Wales, Devon and Cornwall, and Brittany.
There was a consecration of this church in 1338 by the Bishop of Waterford acting on instructions from the Bishop of Exeter. This might have been a sign of rebuilding, or just as likely the first consecration ever; the Lateran Council of 1215 made plain that many churches had never been actively consecrated and they better get it done pronto… pronto being a mutable concept in these parts.
There is a puzzler here though, the Bish of Waterford also consecrated a cemetery for Tetcott Church, which he would not have done without orders from Exeter, yet Bishop Brantingham of Exeter reverse ferreted hard and fast in March of 1339
In a long and wordy Latin letter he announces that he had had no intention of making a cemetery there, the Waterford Bish had got it all wrong, it was not Exeter’s fault, and all burials were cancelled.
And if, perhaps, since the time when the said Church was lately dedicated by the said Father, some bodies have been buried there in the Cemetery, those, under the penalty of excommunication, shall be exhumed within forty days, and buried in the Cemetery of the said Church of Clautone [Clawton] Canonice
Register of Bishop Grandson, Vol 2, translated from the Latin
The clue here is that Clawton, the adjoining parish north, probably had some relationship with Tetcott and was the marriage/baptism/burial place for the two, if not others. It was also owned by the very small priory of Cornworthy in South Devon, a house of so very not wealthy nuns.
The income they received from Clawton would have been important, not for the love of moolah but for doing their Christian duties, their care of the sick and education of the folk, and they likely had a word or twenty in the Bishop’s ear, mighty loud words at that.
Thus the change of heart, and a little window into life back then.
A granite window
Later, after things had calmed down, the south transept was added in the fourteenth century with this lovely granite window included in the bargain, rough and beautiful as it is.
And a later granite doorway
While the tower was added in the fifteenth century with this fine granite doorway included, very nice indeed.
Inside Tetcott Church of the Holy Cross
Inside Tetcott church is a lovely simplicity, the nave and chancel still here after eight hundred years or so, evidenced by the thickness of some of the walls. As ever, from this simplicity beauty comes tumbling to our attention.
The Norman font
Such as this lovely Norman font, rough and weathered after many centuries with fading heads at some of the base corners.
The font bowl
The bulbous bowl is a delight, big enough to dunk a baby or two, with its carved frieze whispering mysterious meanings quietly through the centuries.
Medieval bench ends
Whilst these bench ends from 1500-1530 (thank you MarhamChurch Antiques) are another mystery; usually bench ends of this age have either religion or at least Renaissance style symbols, here not so much.
Powerful carvings
Though as so often, the meanings, if any, are lost to time.
Speculatively though, the right hand one here and in the previous image could be a representation of the Tree of Life, a deeply meaningful concept. It first appears in the Garden of the Eden, at the beginning of the bible, where it gives eternal life to us humans. Adam and Eve totally messed that one up when they got themselves blacklisted from the club, thus death.
It also appears again in the last chapter of the last book of the bible, Revelation, where once more it gives life and is part of the panoply of that magnificent book describing the eternal to come.
Connecting the two is Christ, who revealed of the promise of eternal life, and the cross. So Christ was seen as the Tree of Life, as well as the cross.
Whether the carver intended this as a symbol of that tree the question is open, but Late Medieval Christianity was lush with eloquent symbolism and folk saw sumptuous meanings all around.
Tetcott sanctuary
Taking about meanings there was right hoo ha here in back in 1857, long before this elegant early twentieth century sanctuary was so carefully created… The Rev Temple West, installed in 1854, was not Mr Popular, very not so.
For one thing folk were writing to a newspaper screaming blue murder about the presence of candlesticks (with lit candles no less!) and a cross on the altar… ! Triple conniptions all round, so it seems…
Apparently
… people flock there [Tetcott church] in great numbers from different parishes round almost every Sunday to laugh and jeer each other about the Puseyitical tomfooleries
Western Times: Saturday 07 February 1857
Admittedly this probably seems seems all a storm in teacup from our modern vantage, when candlesticks and crosses on altars are almost de rigeur and priests even face the congregation when celebrating Mass (something which on on the whole I venture is a mistake) but it is easy to think that us moderns are better and wiser than our forebears.
We are not, very totally most definitely not.
The problem here was that the new Tractarian Movement, of which Rev West was a follower, introduced or reintroduced devotional rituals into Anglican services and dramatically increased the importance of the Eucharist Celebration. Meanwhile, back in rural Devon, most priests had been deeply Evangelical along with their congregations, heavily influenced by the simple and powerful preaching of John Wesley who split off from the Church of England to form Methodism, very reluctantly.
So Temple West was vilified and roasted for his newfangled habits, and this went on at least until 1866. How real the general feeling was against him is hard to tell, Victorian social media, like today’s, being prone to fake truths and embellishments.
Though ‘Puseyitical tomfooleries’… is not that just the bee’s knees of insults? Plus it hits out at Edward Pusey, a leader of the Tractarian Movement, in the same breath. An insult in stereo, dead classy that.
Poppyheads in the chancel
That is Even Mr Grumpy here seems to be joining the general crotchety mood, though at least he has reason with plants growing out his mouth. A fun piece of Victorian carving, a poppyhead in the chancel.
A Flemish beauty
Whilst this carving is equally enjoyable in a very different way.
Flemish, possibly cresting for the top of a pulpit, starting to get close to the Baroque in style therefore late seventeenth century circa 1700.
Shaw Edwards, Shaw Edwards Antiques
In the middle are the initials IHS (the H is elongated sideways) for the first three letters of the name of Jesus (ΙΗΣΟΥΣ, iota-eta-sigma, or ΙΗΣ) with the cross and Holy Sprit above and the Sacred heart below, and on either side putti, or cherubs, holding a skull and an hourglass for death and life’s fleetingness.
A lovely piece of work for sure.
Victoria’s coat of arms
More vernacular this one and an absolute corker with it, the coat of arms of Queen Victoria, somewhat coloured, hugely charming.
It is so full of local history too, probably made by a local carpenter and painted by a parishioner.
The carving is more heartfelt than full of expertise and surely that is what makes so wonderful and so important, the parish folk speaking to us down the centuries.
John Northcott’s pulpit
While here is an 1894 creation, deceptively understated but a lovely piece of work.
It is probably by John Northcott of Ashwater whose work appears as far away as Newcastle. Here his carving is crisp and very well balanced, and he understands the original Medieval Gothic so well; each little boss on the frieze at the top is different, each pair of quatrefoils at the bottom has a different centre, each boss on the lower frieze is different again… Mr Northcott has combined repetition and change in a way that the Medieval adored.
And he has done it with masterful expertise.
Goodly memorials
For a change, there is some lush stone carving in the south transept, from a memorial to the Arscott family who moved up the social scale around nearby Holsworthy and one of whose junior members rocked up in Tetcott in 1550 and built the still-surviving manor house.
The Arscotts were here until 1783 and certainly marked their territory in the church. They also built a Queen Anne mansion in the early eighteenth century which as since been demolished.
This detail from the late seventeenth century is a dandy.
Birds squabbling
Becoming even better with that ornery eagle bullying a mighty fed up seagull (well, it looks like one to me!), poor thing.
A pastel beauty
Though this enchantment is surely a true grace, with its pastel colours, floral carving and excellent calligraphy.
It is as if colour has been washed out of the world for the grief-stricken parents by the death of their fifteen year old son Arthur, yet the world’s beauty remains, still there, still around them, still reminding them that there is hope and love in this world.
One from the heart
Here an earlier memorial, much simpler, much less sentimental, equally powerful in a different way, as if John Arscott could not bear to say more about his wives in case he broke hard.
Care in the church
The south transept is now muted, its ownership by the Arscotts long ended, family faded into history, stone enchantments softly singing their eulogies just as the very rocks of the church hum the memories of their builders and the woodwork murmurs the skills of the carvers.
More than that, this beautiful church carries the memories of the parishioners peacefully misting of its marvels, and the wonders of the care lavished on it by today’s folk… Not only because it carries them back to the depths of their ancestries but also because its presence is woven into the fabric of their modern lives.
And long may that last.
