'The Mad Monk of Lidwell Chapel' -
TNC on-the-ground investigation.
Published on 12 March 2005 | Source: Jacqueline Nichols
The Mad Monk
The rolling hills of Devon are steeped in mystery and intrigue with numerous strange myths and legends stretching back down through the centuries. None is so gruesome however as the tale of the murderous monk who inflicted carnage on the secluded valley where his chapel was situated. Even more disturbing however is the revelation that there is more than an element of truth in the story. So much so that it is probable that this Devonian man of the cloth is England's first documented serial killer.
Lidwell Chapel (©2002 Dawlish Guide)
On the slopes of Haldon Hill lie the remains of Lidwell Chapel, the site of one of Devon's more macabre tales. The name, Lidwell, is actually a corruption of "Lady's Well" and the chapel is dedicated to St. Mary Magdalene. Like so many other churches and chapels, it was built on what was formerly a pagan place of worship, a sacred well, probably dedicated to the goddess of spring. There is, too, evidence of the original well and this can be seen in a corner of the grounds.
This isolated ruin, adjacent to farmland and situated to the northwest of Teignmouth, was, in medieval times, the focal point of a small settlement and leper sanctuary where the monks could provide care for the sufferers, all of whom would be compelled to live outside their community. The legend concerns one monk in particular, a hermit or recluse who lived at Lidwell during the early part of the fourteenth century. This man is said to have lured passing travellers into the chapel where he would rob them, murder them and dispose of their bodies by throwing them down the well.
In support of the legend, the Bishop's register of the year 1329 contains an entry relating to the execution of a Hermit Monk who had been convicted of murder. Intrigued by what we had unearthed and wanting to know more about this curio, we felt that the next logical step would be to visit the "scene of crime" so a team of five members of TNC arranged to go and look the place over as soon as we could.
On a Sunday morning, early in the spring of 2002, we set out for Lidwell. The chapel and the well are reached by a footpath that leads east from the B3192, which runs along the crest of Little Haldon Hill between Telegraph Hill and Teignmouth. It's a steep descent which had us tripping and stumbling over the flints and stones which were scattered along the pathway. The meandering nature of the path and its bed of shingle suggested to us that we were walking along the bed of a river that had long since dried up.
As scenes of crime go, this isn't the easiest to reach but there are fewer that are set in more attractive surroundings.
Our route took us under the cover of a smattering of trees, ancient and soundless, unmoved by the breeze that swept down the hillside and combed its way through the long grass. We passed through an elderly gate; huge and unyielding, it creaked slowly open, resisting our progress. From there, the path dropped steeply into a coombe and there we could catch a glimpse of the chapel, set among trees and surrounded by iron railings.
The area still generates an eerie atmosphere, brooding and malevolent, and nothing grows within the chapel walls. On approaching our destination, two of our team members refused to go any further, claiming that they sensed something gloomy and ominous surrounding the chapel. The remainder of us didn't dispute that but we carried on regardless, as we had come all this way to capture what we could of the place on camera and this led to our own mysterious experience of Lidwell.
The walls of the chapel survive up to the eaves, but even with the place open to the vast sky overhead, we were, all three of us, still aware of an uncomfortable feeling of entrapment. Just inside the entrance, we located the remains of the well and, with the cloying mud sucking at our boots, we hurriedly took our photographs, close-ups of the chapel, some of the spiked railings that surrounded us and another series of shots of the well from a different angle.
We continued taking photos as we retraced our steps along the route to the main road. Then we headed back to the office to download the images and that is when we experienced our own mystery.
None of the photographs of the well appeared!
Despite being taken, with a range of camera settings and positions, at various intervals and interspersed with other shots, all of which were downloaded successfully, all pictures of the well had, inexplicably, ceased to exist.
We aren't the first to have experienced this phenomenon either. During the 1970s, a photographer from Bristol took some shots of the ruins and was profoundly shocked when he developed his film. However, his experience was very different to ours: His photos showed the chapel no longer in ruins but intact, looking as it would have done during the fourteenth century.
Having set out simply to examine a scene of crime from medieval times, we had had this unusual and mysterious experience thrown in free of charge. Not bad value for money, I'll agree, but it provided even greater desire to know more about the person behind the story, the monk himself.
The chapel was built during the late thirteenth century by Bishop Grandisson of Exeter. Early in the fourteenth century it was inhabited by a hermit monk by the name of Robert de Middlecote who would hear the confessions of travellers who crossed the heath. A pious monk by day, Brother Robert became a robber and murderer when night descended on that lonely place.
Precisely what was it that turned a man of the cloth into a serial killer? According to local accounts, he had apparently gone to Lidwell willingly but the solitude gradually took its toll on his sanity. However, that isn't the entire picture. Research shows that he had already demonstrated a proclivity for this type of crime, committing several offences at a previous chapel. These had gone unpunished. In all probability, the chapel in question is La Wallen at Gidleigh where, it is said, he had attempted to murder Agnes, the daughter of the local miller and her child, in 1328. He also faced three charges of robbery, which he claimed to have been carried out for the benefit of the ecclesiastical community. In any event, there is a reference, in the Bishop's register, dated 15th May, 1329, referring to the "purgation of Robert de Middlecote."
Vehemently denying his guilt, de Middlecote was relocated to the tiny chapel of Lidwell. During the daytime, he maintained a superficial dedication to his task, but as nightfall loomed he went in search of lonely travellers who, exhausted and hungry, would gratefully take up his offer of hospitality. Brother Robert ensured that the chapel was well illuminated and easily visible to those journeying from the busy port of Teignmouth.
After his guest had eaten a hot meal, to which had been added a narcotic, the traveller would quickly be rendered semi-conscious. At this point, Robert would draw his knife and stab the victim to death before stripping the body of valuables and dropping it down the well that was just behind the door of the chapel.
The hospitable monk maintained this way of life for several years until nemesis arrived in the shape of a sailor. Attracted by the welcoming light in the chapel window, the mariner had accepted the hospitality on offer. However, while he was praying in the chapel, Brother Robert made to stab him. Fortunately for the sailor, he was distracted from his prayer in time to see the monk preparing to pounce. A scuffle ensued, during which Robert was pushed down the well.
Shocked, the sailor sought help from a nearby farm. Surprisingly, the monk had survived the drop into the well but died minutes after being hauled up to the surface.
That is where the local legend and the official account part company for, according to the records, Robert de Middlecote was hanged in Exeter in 1329.
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