Precautionary supports and fisherman’s pulpit, transported from Galilee after a dream.

Between a Bomb, Some Rock, and a Hard Place

The following article by Merlin Betts appeared in Hastings Independent Press (February 27, 2023) and is reposted here with kind permission of the author.

St Leonards Church hasn’t had the easiest history. From the destruction of its namesake in medieval times, it took hundreds of years to be built on its current site – within the cliffs – as a place of worship for James Burton’s wealthy settlers. It was regularly attended by Princess Victoria (the one who would be Queen) in 1834-35, and then a couple of years later it was crushed in a landslide. No engineer or planning officer seems to have taken the hint since.

But surely there’s something about struggle and challenge that really gives a church building its meaning, whether you’re religious or not. Each church is an early statement of that human desire to reach for the stars and change our world – do something remarkable. Many friends of St Leonards church have definitely thought so over the last two centuries, maintaining it against harsh opposition from land, sea and wind.

The interior of St Leonards Church, facing the altar. Pulpit left.

In 1944 a damaged V1 bomb hit just outside its doors, causing the structure to entirely collapse. In its wisdom the War Damage Commission wanted the church rebuilt on the same site, despite its chequered past of rock falls and subsidence. Landslips put the church at risk again in 1987 and 1994, and proximity to the sea continually wears away at its structure. After various attempts to find the funds needed to keep the building and its surrounding site safe and well maintained, it was closed to the public in 2018.

St Leonards is perhaps still the only church on England’s South Coast that looks directly out to the sea, with its external pulpit almost shouting out a challenge to the storm gods. Inside, the prow of a Galilean fishing boat forms the main pulpit, with the binnacle of the ship that brought it here as its lectern.

The building is grade II listed, which is rare for anything constructed post-1945. Its turbulent history and unusual features give it a mystical character, and since the collapse of Sussex Steps, the footpath next to it is now the only cut-through from West Hill Road to the seafront. The church is now a tenuous but somehow unique and alluring link between two sections of the town that bears its name.

Since the 2018 closure, at least one significant attempt has been made to gather the funds needed to shore up the cliffs and secure the church. Hastings Urban Design Group and allies tried to acquire Town Deal funding for ‘Science-on-Sea’, a project that would’ve seen the church become a satellite of London’s Science Museum in St Leonards. Sound exciting? Well, the project was rejected by the Town Deal board with minimal explanation given.

The cliffs aren’t just a threat to this historic building but any attempts to develop housing on nearby land – you might have noticed the concrete skeleton next to it on Undercliff. The cliffs will likely need a lot of funding to be properly stabilised, money that Hastings Borough Council (HBC) doesn’t have. And, if HBC did have it, they’d be more likely to spend it on cliffs that threaten the Old Town and other densely populated or more tourist-friendly hotspots.

Despite this seemingly bleak situation for the church, a new organisation is forming to take charge of it from the Diocese, and build a strategy for how to go forward. A stakeholder group of conservationists, architects and other interested specialists is steadily becoming the St Leonards Church Charitable Trust. It’s stated aim is: “to protect, renovate, preserve and maintain for the benefit of the community the disused Grade II listed St Leonards Parish Church and its surrounds, including the listed Burton family tomb.”

Cracked retaining wall behind St Leonards Church.

Although the retaining wall holding back the cliffs has clearly failed – and will need major repairs – St Leonards church itself seems to be in relatively good condition. Despite menacing ramparts placed against one of its internal walls, its structure is solid; these internal defences are precautionary, for now. The roof and ceiling are slightly damaged, which could be another expensive job, but doesn’t immediately put the building at risk. Some stained-glass windows have been broken, but most of the intricate glasswork remains. Otherwise the place mainly needs a tidy and a good dusting.

A web of local and national organisations have some level of involvement with (or responsibility for) the site. Parts are East Sussex County Council, parts are HBC, parts are Crown Land. Elsewhere the Environment Agency has been convinced to fund cliff stabilisation projects. Our MP could lobby Westminster for some money, though Sally Ann Hart doesn’t seem hugely popular up there at the minute.

Proposed members of the St Leonards Church Charitable Trust seem well qualified in working with historic buildings, and are optimistic about proceeding, despite the obvious challenges. But more legal experts and money managers would be helpful. Former chair of the Burton St Leonards Society, and current vice-chair of the Hastings & St Leonards Society, Dr Chris Joyce, is playing a key organisational role. Following a visit to the site on Friday 17 February, Dr Joyce said “Everyone emerged surprisingly upbeat. I think we’re looking at the biggest project to have arisen in Hastings since Duke William arrived on nearby shores 957 years ago!”

Cracked turret of retaining wall behind St Leonards Church.

If worst comes to worst, the Trust’s job will be to ensure the safe demolition of the church, and – if the cliffs remain dangerous – the site would presumably remain unusable. At Birling Gap homes are being left to fall into the sea, and the nearby National Trust visitor centre simply plans to pull further back from the cliff face. There’s a serious question here about whether we want the battle with nature to continue, or to just get out of its way.

If, on the other hand, funding is acquired and the cliff stabilised, the church would likely be transformed into a community and creative centre for a much-neglected stretch of seafront that desperately needs something to rally around, and rocks to stop falling on it.

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