Combeinteignhead Church of All Saints Description
- Lovely red stone church set in a pretty hillside churchyard
- Impressive Norman font
- Well carved late 15th century rood screen
- Fantabulous Late Medieval bench ends with saints on the sides and animals on top
- An impressive 19th century chancel
- A very rare, and very nice, 17th century clay tomb
- Some good stained glass
Combeinteignhead Parish
Lying at the head of a combe (Celtic meaning steep valley) running down to the Teign Estuary it seems a no-brainer that the name Combeinteignhead refers to that river.
It is not. It comes from the Saxon age, Combe Ten Hide, as this area (along with neighbouring Stokeinteignhead) was classified as having ten hides of land. A hide was enough land to support a household for a year, the actual size was undetermined depending on the type and quality of the land.
Nowadays it seems a sweet rural place, but appearances do not tell the real story. Access to that estuary was access to trade (most trade being by water until relatively recently), both in and out; lime stone for burning in the kilns lining the shoreline was one major inward trade, spread on the fields for major fertility.
Fish went out, amongst other products, a trade growing dramatically in the Late Medieval as European markets opened up with their demand for salted and smoked fish, a major source of protein for those without the lush green pastures of glorious Devon.
Folk would fish part time, a bit of farming, a bit of fishing, a bit of this, a bit of that, and they kept their gear in shoreline shacks called cellars; where this combe reaches the estuary is a pub called Coombe Cellars, one of the old fishing sheds.
With the water trade, in 1292 this was a relatively wealthy parish, assessed as due to pay the twenty-sixth highest taxes in the region.
Combeinteignhead Church
And the church certainly lives up to its parish, a right beauty snuggled into its hillside churchyard, built from the local Devon red stone, probably mainly thirteenth century with the aisles added in the fifteenth and the tower somewhere in between.
The west door
With a fine medieval doorway and…
Massive oak double doors, the bold wrought ironwork for which is by Mr. J. H. Bartord, the famed smith of Maidenhead, who made the metal grills at each side of the reredos [altar back] in Exeter Cathedral.
Teignmouth Post and Gazette: 17/02/1888
All praise to Mr Barford indeed.
Inside Combeinteignhead Church
Inside a calm light, still, undisturbed by the outside world, with colours to match; reds and browns and whites, a restful blanket of muted pastels.
Imagine living in a county with no red stone, a whole wondrous palette of colours whipped out of existence!
The most excellent Norman font
Though just to buck the trend, this Norman font goes for the greys, possibly Caen stone from Northern France or grey Salcombe stone from East Devon; either way its a definite statement… Most Norman fonts hereabouts are that local red stone.
Unsurprisingly, it would have been delivered by sea, ready cut or uncut is an open question.
Some say it is original, some say it has been recut in the nineteenth century, I say look at the shape; it really is very good, that gentle bowl flowering upwards from the chunky cabling cinching in the flared plinth.
Then that decoration, more understated finery.
Combeinteignhead Rood Screen
Then there is this rood screen, another fine ancient pleasingness, late fifteenth century most likely.
Graceful for sure, those uprights flowing into the vaulting with that intricate cornice carving above, a finery worth a fair few moments to admire and take into our souls.
It was not ever so, whitewashed and painted as it was after the Reformation, and then Harry Hems sauntered up to the wicket…
The screen in its entirety is almost altogether old, very little new work being added. The delicate of restoring it was entrusted to Mr. Harry Hems, the well-known sculptor of Exeter…
Innumerable coats of whitewash and paint have been removed with the result that the very setting. out and the ” scribing ” of lines by the original workers, nearly 450 years ago, may readily be traced to-day upon the old screen.
Teignmouth Post and Gazette, 17/02/1888
The bays are somewhat narrower than many another rood screen here in Devon, more sharply pointed arches at the top too, which makes the whole appear taller than it actually is and gives a rather attractive stretched out elegance. A fine design I am thinking.
Above the screen there used to be a gallery, an eighteenth century one to accommodate… well, we do not who exactly. A choir? A private area for gentry? Children? It was very rare for a gallery to be placed here, though way before that there was the rood loft.
Beautifully carved bench ends
Another fine design is this critter, part of a small collection of fifteenth or early sixteenth century bench ends in the north transept that are most delicious.
What kind of critter is it? Very much open to question that. Some say a bear, some a pig, some a monkey, the important point being, I suggest, is that it wears a friar’s cowl, that hooded headdress; if not a friar’s, then a member of the clergy at the very least.
And this is the whole point. Taken in context with the other figures on top of the bench ends (discussed below), it is a warning against false preaching; friars themselves were wandering preachers who had a reputation of being somewhat radical in their sermonising.
Though this is not throwing shade on actual friars, that would be the church eating itself, it is warning against false demons in human dress, clergy vestments if you will, and here the enlarged hands and what seem to be hands-for-feet accentuate the grasping and greedy nature of the demon.
Alongside this the English church was terrified of various heresies that had arisen in the century of two previously, and worked hard to protect the folk against them.
Reynard the Fox
Another group of figures here underlines and intensifies this theme of the trickster preaching false words, a fox stealing a goose chased by a dog.
And what an absorbing little scenario it is too for the parishioners who lived on what they could produce from the land and sea, always aware that there was a ‘hungry gap’ of late Winter and early Spring coming up when nothing grew and they had to have have a store of food ready to last… Not even taking account the climate back then, it is not called the the Medieval ‘Little Ice Age’ for nothing.
The loss of a goose hit hard, not be replaced by a trip to the local supermarket, this was an emotionally absorbing carving.
A fox’s story
Allied with this is the reputation of the fox, who appears in a very popular group of Medieval tales as Reynard, a cunning animal full of craft to capture his unwary prey and not to be trusted an inch.
Here is just how popular the tales of Reynard were: The original French word for fox was ‘goupil’ but it changed in the High to Late medieval ages to ‘renard’, still meaning ‘fox’ today.
The fox often represents the cunning of the Devil who ensnares the unwary. Here the goose represents the unwary… the gullible, the easily tempted and deceived…
… Be on your guard, be vigilant, or you will be deceived by the Devil and come to an unhappy end.
Reynard the Fox, Kenneth Varty, 1967
And if this was the only carving here then the interpretation would be less sure, but with that other very suspicious animal/demon with a cowl in the same bunch then the interpretation becomes much more solid.
Even more solidly there are various other carvings in English churches showing the cunning fox preaching to geese. This was a well-recognised symbol.
Stealing a Goose
Whilst here, just in case it is difficult to interpret, is the goose (outlined in orange) slung over the back of the fox (the head in red) whilst the chancy little devil is making his getaway.
Medieval geese were about half the size of modern ganders, and even now foxes have been observed running away with their booty in the same manner.
This was painful, this was distressing, maybe somewhat similar to a street thief running off with your wallet of cash or your smart phone only probably more so, we are talking about food on the table or money from market in a much more precarious life.
Pursued by a hound
Chased by a hound, the word ‘dog’ being confined to the male of the species in those days, not yet a generic name for the whole animal, and hounds used only for work except for the super rich and their status symbols.
This was no fox hunting jolly either, with red-coated folk bellowing ‘tally-ho’ while bouncing over the landscape, that would not start until the eighteenth century. Foxes were killed by the parish folk who blocked up their holes when found, leaving one exit to flush them out and then hacking them to pieces.
A lion joins in the fun
And the final animal here is a lion, which considering the other carvings might well be another comment on the dangers of the world.
Also, considering the slope of the bench end, this may well have been one side of a prayer desk, since repurposed.
Saints on the bench ends
Meanwhile, on the sides below those animals, saints hang out, the good lads and lasses for sure, wreathed in the garlands of the natural world, God’s creation. Imagine if you will worshippers pausing to kneel and have a little word with their favourite, a little meditation on how the passion and dedication of their chosen saint could be brought into their own personal life.
Here Saints George, Agnes, Hubert and Genesius on the left with Mary Magdalen on the right.
More saints
Whilst here Catherine on the left and Peter, Paul and two woodwoses on the right.
A woodwose and St Genesius
Woodwoses are normally found in Norfolk, very rare indeed to meet them in a Devon church, they are usually defined as ‘wild men’, and Saint Genesius (on the right) was a comic actor who was converted while performing in a play mocking Christianity.
Sadly the main man in the audience was the Roman emperor du jour who took a mighty dim view of this sudden change of theatrical direction and Genesius lost his head very soon afterwards.
Combeinteignhead Church Sanctuary
The sanctuary is a very pleasant change of pace, tidied up by Victorians in a most delicious way; they did like sliding a tiled and carved module in this position, and in Devon they often left the rest of the church full of original old work.
Two reasons for this, I suggest: One, they just wanted a nice clean place to offer Communion, and secondly the taking of Communion with all the alongside ritual was rocketing in importance.
But there is something else going on here as well, not easy to spot unless you have had the fortune of reading The Ecclesiological Movement and its Antecedents in Devon, Richard Parker, 2019.
While most of this design seems to come from the 1851 restoration there is one major difference: The stone altar railing once ran straight across without a gap; the newer edging can still be identified. This unbroken run can be be seen in an old photo in the church guide.
There was once a door (under the left wall carvings) into the sanctuary from the vestry, and another door from behind the pulpit into the vestry. Richard’s suggestion is that this allowed the priest to pop into the vestry to change his preaching gown for a surplice in order to celebrate the Holy Communion in the appropriate gear.
Back then, the priest glamming up for the Eucharist and the accompanying rituals was a huge breach of tradition, not welcomed at all by many folk, so possibly a piece of subtlety for the sake of of the feelings of some of the congregation.
The Ascension in the East Window
The East Window is another beauty in itself, the Ascension by Drake of Exeter, a three-generation stained glass workshop from about 1865 to1957.
This window dates from 1905.
A clay monument
Whilst in the north transept there is this rarity, a clay tomb, early seventeenth century… and by rarity I mean really, really rare. There is no other in Devon, and very unlikely in the rest of the country.
So why clay? Nobody knows is the simple answer. It is very well moulded, lots of skill here, so saving money is likely off the table; my best guess is that the supply of good quality stone or skilled masons had been interrupted, lots of shenanigans going on in the early seventeenth century… One of them being pirates in the channel, boatloads upon boatloads from North Africa who were attacking shipping and coastal villages, taking crews and locals back as slaves.
They were, in truth, more slavers than our normal vision of pirates as booty hunters.
James I (reigned 1603 – 1625) was getting a lot of flack as he had a rubbish navy and these pirates operated with near impunity; considering the good stone would have needed to come from Beer downalong the coast by sea… well, maybe there is a connection here.
Or maybe not. As I said, nobody knows for sure.
A family crest in clay
What we do know is that it incorporates a ledger stone as the tomb table top, an inscribed flagstone marking an in-church burial, to Gregory Hockmore who died in 1571, and the brass on the wall is to his wife Alice who died in 1613 and is set in Purbeck stone, not clay like everything else.
It is also very old fashioned for a seventeenth century monument, very; the arch for one, the wreath pattern for another.
It was commissioned by Alice’s son, Philip, and it likely came from a decision
… to re-join his parents and “elevate’ his father’s ledger to a position of greater prestige than the floor of the church…
…it may well be that he wished to give the impression… that the monument was more contemporary with is father’s date of death than his mother’s, or at least to give it an antiquated feel – a well known practice.
Church Monuments and Commemoration in Devon c.1530-c.1640, Christine Faunch, Phd thesis, 1998
Likely enough it was coloured too, though near all traces of that have gone, and it has has been moved; now it stands in front of a filled-in window in the north transept, before it was likely in the aisle or the chancel.
Chunky moulding
The mouldings are chunkier than a stone-carved tomb but showing a deal of talent for all that, probably made by an artisan plasterer; around this time there was an explosion of quality plasterwork in the richer Devon houses.
It is also made of Bovey clay from Bovey Tracey, one of the few sources of china clay in Europe and quality clay for other work, as here.
A beautiful crest
Later Hockmores also have their memorials here, here a slate ledger stone with some of the original colouring left, another rarity.
This one is to Gregory Hockmore who died in 1653.
Bright beauty
There are also some little bits of Victorian stained glass around in the foliage style they did so well, a sequence of small delights.
Just as this marvellous Devon Red church has it own sequence of delights, big and small, whilst snugly tucked behind the village houses in its enveloping combe as it is; now resting quietly after many a parish lifetime of farming, fishing and trading.
Outside and inside, past and present, delights to feed the soul for sure.
