There is a place where heritage and stark, grim reality meet.
All these pretty castles and picturesque stately homes: they grace our land and make it beautiful. They are photogenic calendar fodder.
But defending one’s country against bally invaders requires another kind of heritage all together. This is where the military takes charge. No frills, no spills, no Queen Anne legs or brocade hangings.
The South and East Coasts of England are peppered with examples of this no-nonsense architecture. Their most extreme incarnations are stark, round,virtually windowless towers which glower at the sea from their clifftop vantage points.
They are called Martello Towers.
Their story started when the British were summoned by the Corsican community against the French more than 200 years ago, in 1794. British Naval forces chose as their point of attack Mortella point, on which was built a huge squat round tower used for defensive purposes.
They found the tower quite a challenge. Its shape, and the three great canons mounted on it, gave it certain qualities of invincibility. The first skirmish left six British men dead and 57 wounded.
So they attacked it from land. At a distance of 150 yards four guns battered it for two days. They were getting nowhere, until a chance shot ignited parts of the parapet.
Two things, the Brits did, after they had taken that tower. They demolished it so that only half was left standing; and then they came home and, on the recommendation of Commander-in-Chief of the Mediterranean, Admiral Sir John Jervis, they built 105 of them on the English coastline.
It was all done in considerable haste. The whole lot were built in just seven years: the ones on the South Coast first, from 1805 to 1808, and the ones on the East coast from 1808-1812.
They were all built of brick with a central brick column. Walls on the seaward side were typically four metres thick, and the door was about six metres from the ground, opening onto the first floor. On the ground floor would be a magazine and stores: the first floor would be a garrison, with just two windows in the south coast towers; and on the roof was a gun placement which enabled a canon to swivel 360 degrees to meet any oncoming enemy.
Light was a luxury, decor an insignificance. Walk inside one of these things today, and you are in the land of the military. Make no mistake.
We tourists amble happily along the coast and note the towers wherever we go. It must be possible, we speculate foolishly, to bring a woman’s touch to these bastions of male combat: to do a Doris Day chintzy makeover on these towers of doom.
I fritter long hours imagining taking the roof off and replacing it with glass, putting in a window here, an aga there, filling it with the sound of happy well-entertained guests.
And some have achieved this.But English Heritage – who run so many of our castles like well-oiled machines – control what happens to these great hulking figures on our coasts. They manage their ‘listed status’.
This means that any improvement, no matter how minor, must be run by English Heritage before anything else happens.
And there lies the rub.
Here, in and around Folkestone and neighbouring Sandgate there are several towers in differing states of repair. Artist Sarah McCombie picked one up for a song some years ago – just £50,000 – with dreams of renovating the building. But, as popular Channel 4 series Restoration Man chronicled, the planning laws made progress far from plain sailing.
Nothing, but nothing, could change. The gun placement, which Sarah wanted to convert into a roof terrace, was non-negotiable. And while other tower conversions might have bent that rule, English Heritage were not for turning on this Martello.
The angles inside a Martello are beautiful: but nature has partially claimed so many, and light is a stranger to the interiors once designed for combat. They are not friendly places.
English Heritage insist on keeping the integrity of buildings which, under private ownership, are falling into ever greater states of disrepair.
And so these seaside communities and the tourists that visit them are forced to watch the decay of many of these behemoths.
Sometimes an installation can speak a thousand words.
It is some time since Martello number 4 was open to the public. But as part of the Folkestone Triennial festival, artist Christina Iglesias has built an ‘intervention’ which opens it once more. The tower is swamped with ivy and the wildlife has claimed it for its own: its history is rendered insignificant in the face of the natural world. It’s called “Towards The Sounds of Wilderness.”
Her work is a walkway to a viewpoint: it looks out over the sights and sounds of the natural world which have conquered this tower when nothing else could.
Time is a great healer, they say. Man and his renovations have failed here on the edge of the Channel: but more than 200 years after these great giants were built, they are going back from whence they came.
Kate Shrewsday 
if only all forms of defence were unnecessary forever, imagine a world of only buildings beautifully designed for function and elegance or fun………..
That would be cool, wouldn’t it, Sidey?
Well, lacking second sight, it is hard to know who’s wrong and who’s right. Would they ever be needed again? I doubt it. It is a good idea to preserve some old buildings for posterity, but which of the 105 should they be? Certainly not ALL? Personally I would love to own one and have the wherewithall to renovate it – perhaps in my next life, hahaha…
At £50,000 it’s not beyond the bounds of possibility, Denise: only 47 of the towers exist now, I think, and some are descending into decay quite fast. They do command wonderful views of the coast, for strategic reasons. But they are seriously scary buildings….
We sometimes are so avid in the defense of saving a building that we end up losing it for all time. The town we used to live in had a wonderful old house, a founding father of the town sort of house, gothic and full of history of what it had been used for (now, mind you, this town was not even 200 years old, but, still . . . ). It was bought by a local contractor who rented it out for many years. It became in need of repairs and disability requirements and sprinkler systems and so forth. The renovation would be costly. It went on the market. No one to buy it. Several years past and the good fellow who owned it decided to tear it down. You would not believe the uproar over the razing of the building. No one wanted to buy it, yet, no one wanted it to go. The horrible accusations against the owner were troubling to me. Well, it was finally razed, the owner’s deed soon forgotten for some other headline, and now the lot stands, gravel and ruts, and Christmas trees are sold there, by a local church, each December.
That’s heartbreaking, Penny. Such a beautiful building to be obliterated! These towers have none of that grace to recommend them, but somehow we still value them. I went to see the ivy-covered tower this evening. You can’t even see it: it is totally covered in ivy. The birds and the beasts have reclaimed it utterly.
I rather like the idea of keep one or two on each coast as they were ~ up to date, etc.
And the rest transformed with a “woman’s touch” ~ rooftop terraces, sky lights, wrap around decks, etc.
I don’t suppose I have a vote? 😉
Nancy, English Heritage are as immoveable as a tombstone! Shame: a series of rooftop terrace syndicated cafes might be just what our tourist trade here could do with!
You and I think so alike, Nancy! Just a little loving touch…
I would love to see what you would both make of a Martello of your own…
A fascinating post, Kate. And we run into similar problems here, too, with the heritage people. Better, it seems, to have something go to wrack and ruin than to allow progressive changes that would make an old building more attractive, useful, etc. Preserve history at all costs, even to the detriment of future, or now. It’s a sort of ‘back to the future’, only in reverse…
Strange, isn’t it, Ruth, when time and experience – the hard knocks of life – are what made these buildings what they were in the first place. A little change, a little habitation, and their history could grow to become part of our 21st century…
It’s fascinating that Martello towers were built around the empire- wouldn’t it be interesting to see one that had been allowed to be transformed, and compare that to the ones allowed to decay?
There’s one just down the road in private hands, Speccy; I just need to cadge an invite now…it would be lovely to see if a Martello Tower can become homely, like a hobbit hole.
Even though Britain’s defences have taken a different shape these days, I kind of like to think of the men who built those towers knowing that they did their job well enough that the battlements can simply join the quiet landscape surrounding them.
You put that beautifully, Patti 🙂 I think that’s what’s behind the installation here at Folkestone’s tower number 4. I saw it this evening: your words might have been hanging over the ivy-covered tower.
I’ve often looked at the towers and wondered about the possibilities …
A difficult one for English Heritage. I’m all for allowing them to be converted, provided that they are done well.
After all, when they are done well, they can be truly fantastic. Get a load of this:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/2010/dec/20/martello-tower-conversion
Miff, that’s fantastic! To see a conversion from inside! the natural light, even with that gun deck lit, still seems scarce, though. But at least if they were converted, they would be preserved. It makes sense.
Are you tempted???
now, that works!
That does….with a stunning sea view….when shall we move in?
I am torn on this issue – on one hand I’m very much for preserving out history, considering so much of it has already been destroyed. However, I understand how frustrating it must be for both the owners/renters and the local communities who feel that without renovation the Towers will become a blot on an otherwise picturesque landscape. Having never seen one, I cannot make a fair judgement. Thank you also for your comment on my ‘Transition’ post – I’m glad you enjoyed reading about my views on the coming seasonal changes. Have a lovely weekend!
Thanks, Alexandra, and thanks for coming over to leave such a considered comment. Here, as with you, opinions differ: it is a lovely sea view if you can compromise with the heritage police!
Sometimes trying to preserve things for posterity does, indeed, simply hasten their decay. I think EH should maintain one or two at their expense in pristine order, and let the rest evolve with the times as have so many stately mansions and castles still inhabited. In fact, it is fascinating to go through some of these homes dating the various parts and seeing how they often blend wonderfully into a harmonious whole.
Excellent point, Col: Dover Castle, just down the road, is a fabulous example of different eras, from mediaeval tunnels to ’40s barracks.
Preservation is always a wonderful thing, but not when the laws govern a no win for anyone, not even the said preserved. I oft feel that sometimes we humans hold a bit too tightly to history, both internally and externally. Too bad we cannot have the foresight to see the history to come in the modernization of the past.
You have hit the nail on the head, Angela: sometimes we hang onto the past too tightly as is modernisation is something to avoid…
There’s no one like a zealot for achieving the very thing they don’t want. How listed will these towers be when they lie in ruins?
If they were to be built today it would take seven years to decide who would get the contract. probably the French.
😀
The blogging world is great, you peel away the layers and find something interesting each time. I love visiting other blogs and then the blogs of those who have left comments, all sorts of goodies turn up, and now I have found your lovely blog with beautiful photos.
Ronnie, thanks for coming over: those beautiful sweet peas had me hooked this morning 🙂
What beauty and history! How fortunate to live in such a place! Thanks for stopping by my blog and your well wishes.
Thanks for coming over to take a look, Suzicate. I love your blog: stay safe during the hurricane. My thoughts are with you: we’re watching it anxiously, even on this side of the pond.
I love the idea of this artist and what might be done with these but alas, planning and zoning. It’s a bit like the neighborhood association that is trying to send the gardener to prison, isn’t it? Oddly Kate, I don’t recall these towers – perhaps I was so used to seeing them?
Were you on the coast of the UK then, Tammy? I’ll try to look out a map of the remaining 43 martellos. They are along the South and East coasts and many have tumbled down or become overgrown, but when you see them it’s difficult to miss. the one in the picture is at Folkestone, which has two, and its neighbouring Sandgate has three I think…
Reminded me of a program my husband and I watched about what Earth would be like if all people were gone. It showed how landmarks such as the Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Liberty and even huge skyscrapers would all, eventually, be reclaimed by nature. Very fascinating. And a little chilling. Great post.
You’re right, it is a little chilling. The installation at Folkestone shows a tower completely obliterated by ivy. It’s humbling: but a little unsettling too…
Thanks Minnie 🙂 What we need is a few stout authors to lend their names to our South Coast Martellos…
The link on Miff’s comment is, frankly, all that needs saying about the short-sightedness of English Heritage, Kate
Too true, BB…
More 4 has just repeated the show about this actor’s tower. Did anything ever happen?
Yes she has let a grade 2 classic building rot and should be prosecuted or have it removed fro her care. Silly woman with unrealistic dreams unfortunately. And yes I do know her unfortunately.