The Heritage of Trinity Theatre
Welcome to Trinity’s last 200 years, all in one handy place!
As this section is all about our distant (and not-so-distant) past, shall we start with a historical quote? Here’s one that now has a delicious irony, from 1896’s hot title Reminiscences, Edward Hoare M.A, by R. T. Townsend (Hodder & Stoughton):
‘Two gentlemen were conversing at Sevenoaks Station, just before the train left the platform. One was heard to say to the other, ‘How is it that you have no theatre at Tunbridge Wells? A large town like that should have a theatre.’ ‘Oh,’ responded his companion, ‘it would never pay. Tunbridge Wells is too religious a place for a theatre’.
We can only wonder what the author of this anecdote – by a Reverend of Trinity about the legacy of his legendary predecessor, Canon Hoare – would think if he could see Trinity today. Because, as anyone who has seen the building can’t help but note, Trinity was originally built as a church – and a much needed one at that.
Please read on to explore the past of our beautiful building – and the people who have made it so special over the past two centuries.
You can also explore our heritage in person, by visiting our beautiful Clocktower, made possible by the National Lottery Heritage Fund (in fact, if you’ve ever played the Lottery, you can give yourself a pat on the back for helping to fund this yourself!).
Open seasonally from April to October each year, visitors can climb 118 steps to the roof and take in stunning panoramic views of the town. On the way up (or indeed down), you’ll ‘climb through time’, taking in exhibitions and displays all exploring the history of our town, its people, and of course Trinity: from church to theatre, and all the drama in between!
If climbing’s not for you, worry not! You can also explore from the comfort of your home, or indeed from the ground floor of our Foyer, where we have an interactive experience designed to bring you the best of the Clocktower without the height.
You can watch our documentary – we hope you enjoy it as much as we do.
1820-1837
Our story truly begins in the 1820s, when Tunbridge Wells was experiencing a startling population boom. However, to understand the need for the church at that point, it is important to travel back a further 200 years, to the town’s origin.
In 1606 a young, possibly hungover, nobleman called Lord North ‘discovered’ the Chalybeate spring while riding in the Wealden woodland. The mineral-rich water that Lord North drank appeared to cure him of all his ailments. As rumour spread of its restorative properties, the area began to be frequented by his peers – Royalty and the aristocracy.
As its popularity and reputation grew, visitors graduated from camping on the common to staying in purpose-built houses, and buying their provisions from permanent shops. A settlement therefore grew up around the spring, creating the area we know as The Pantiles today.
It became an increasingly fashionable and popular resort in the 1700s as great numbers of people came to take the waters (and enjoy all sorts of less wholesome pursuits, although that’s another story). To accommodate the visitors, a town (then more of a village) began to slowly spread out as you can see in this wonderful map by Jan Kip. It eventually included the area’s first hamlets such as Mount Sion, Mount Pleasant and Mount Ephraim. However, the town was still a seasonal hotspot.

The Need for a Church
That changed in the early 1800s when sea-bathing became en vogue. Suddenly, the fashionable set moved to seaside towns for the benefits of the saltwater and sea air (and other pursuits, as above), and the demand for the spring dwindled. However, rather than the town fade away, people sought to live permanently in Tunbridge Wells instead, and made their living outside of tourism.
This was so popular that the town’s population soon outstripped its infrastructure, both practically (for example, there was a separate campaign for adequate drainage) and spiritually. There was no Parish church. King Charles the Martyr, then a chapel, was the only public place of worship, and could only accommodate a certain number of people. The Spring that Lord North discovered also lay on the cusp of three ancient – relatively distant – Parishes (of Tonbridge, Frant and Speldhurst) and so the town that now surrounded it did not have its own.
This was a problem. Beyond needing a conveniently local place that was big enough to allow everyone to pray, residents also needed somewhere official to be married, and christen their babies. And in the time of cholera, smallpox and other horrors, they also needed somewhere to bury their dead: for Tunbridge Wells also lacked a cemetery.
The Bigger Picture
These local issues were pressing enough. In addition, the political and spiritual landscape of England, (and indeed Europe and America), was changing. Since the late 18th century, revolutions of monarchies and industry were transforming how people lived. This era arguably saw the greatest intellectual and technological leaps since Ancient Greece. Those developments (along with international trade and colonial exploitation) were about to make England the richest country in the world.
Many people made a fortune, making luxury accessible not just to those who inherited their wealth, but to those who had triumphed through entrepreneurship. However, at the same time, poverty was rife, and many traditional ways to make a living were being undermined by machinery.
Uprisings and demand for social reform followed the victory of the Napoleonic Wars – and England’s monarchy and government did not want a return to the Turbulence of the Interregnum years. Religion was seen as the antidote to revolution, leading to the Prince Regent (later George IV) to declare in 1818 the need for more churches. This in turn led to the first Church Building Act being passed in Parliament the same year, making money available for exactly that.
The Building Committee
This convergence of national and local interest therefore saw, on 25th August 1824, the great and the good of the town come together in a public meeting to discuss the need for a new church. From this meeting a ‘Building Committee’ was formed.
You might recognise the names of some of its members today, who left a mark which is still easy to spot, such as The Marquess Camden and The Earl of Abergavenny. Others might not sound instantly familiar, but have a legacy which is central to Trinity and other parts of the town. These include the landowner John Ward (who was the proprietor of Calverley Estate among lots of other areas) and Dr Thomas Thomson, who sold the land for the church to be built on.
A Commissioner’s Church
The Committee also set about fundraising from the community – the first example of many since Trinity’s existence! Books of subscription were opened at the libraries on the Pantiles. The Committee also went to the Church Building Commission (the administrative body for the Church Building Act mentioned above) for exchequer funds, who supplied the majority of the budget for the work (£8,059 of £10,591). Due to this, Holy Trinity (or ‘the New Church’ as it was imaginatively first known) is part of a group of churches nationally known as ‘Commissioners Churches’.
The Architect
With money in hand, the Building Committee then needed an architect to realise their vision. They chose (and the Church Commission duly appointed) wunderkind Decimus Burton. Decimus (1800 – 1881) was barely 24 at the time of his appointment, but he had already achieved great things since his practice began in 1821. Some of his public works included the Wellington Arch, the Ionic Screen at Hyde Park Corner, some of the layout of London Zoo and the Athenaeum Club. You can read more about him in the coming weeks on our ‘People of Trinity’ page.
Decimus was also fairly local, having grown up at Mabledon House, near Tonbridge. He was probably known to the Committee because he designed a mansion for John Ward the year before. John would later also commission him to design the ground-breaking Calverley New Town plan, which began in 1828 and made a huge impact on the look and feel of Tunbridge Wells forever more.

Trinity was not an official part of Decimus’s Calverley New Town vision, but its proximity and its style have always made it an essential component of the estate’s concept. Viewed in this way, it is doubly interesting. As the famous architectural historian Sir Nikolaus Pevsner put it, Trinity is ‘of exceptional importance both from the point of view of its sitting with the Calverley Estate and also in respect of its architect Decimus Burton.’ You can’t argue with that…

The Architecture
Like many of his peers, Decimus drew inspiration from a variety of architectural styles throughout his career. Some of his work was inspired by ancient Greek and Roman architecture. Others, like Trinity, were drawn from the increasingly fashionable revival of interest in the gothic architecture of the medieval era. This style is often referred to as ‘Georgian Gothick’.
Many of the most interesting points of Trinity’s design, from its window arches to its sculpted heads, are very similar to examples shown in a seminal architectural text on ‘Gothick’: Augustus Charles Pugin’s Specimens of Gothic Architecture (1822). Pugin’s examples came from various 13th and 14th century buildings including Westminster Abbey. Due to their similarities, it’s very likely that this book was a point of reference. You can read more about it in Dr. Philip Whitbourn’s excellent monograph, available at Trinity.
Burton’s design for the church was exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1827 (and again in 1829), showcasing the elements that we can admire today. We believe that the below watercolour, of Holy Trinity Church, was actually by Decimus Burton himself. It not only looks like his work, but contains details that were designed but never built such as the additional part of the Priory.
It’s worth noting that while it was celebrated at the time, Decimus’s style fell out of favour for a period, when Gothick became unpopular. Luckily those days are long past, and the building is respected and enjoyed again as an excellent example of Burton’s work and an important part of the town’s architecture.

Decimus’s Design
The church was designed to seat 1,500 people, with 800 of those seats being free. The rest were paid for by wealthier patrons.
The church’s layout was relatively simple: a rectangular body with a small projection on the Eastern side for an altar, with porches on either side, and a western tower between two vestibules.
In addition to the many examples of Decimus’s architectural flair in its details listed above, the building’s showstoppers include its spectacular stained glass window by Joseph Hale Miller. This can be found on the Eastern Wall (and was actually added in 1839) and is a rare example of the artist’s work.
The other landmark is, of course, our magnificent tower, now restored thanks to the generosity of The National Lottery Heritage Fund (and all lottery players)! Interestingly, it looks as though the clocktower was originally an uncertain addition to Burton’s plans. Records from the time show that the Church Commission agreed it could be built, but wouldn’t fund it. As such, when the Building Committee sent out tenders for the building work they provided two figures – one with and one without the tower. (The ‘terminal cross’, which tops the Eastern side of the building, was also an extra).
However – spoiler alert – as the eagle-eyed may have noticed, the money was found and the tower was funded! Its ‘battlemented’ pinnacle has been a Tunbridge Wells landmark for almost two centuries. Visitors are now able to see the tower up close and to climb and enjoy the tower’s view for the first time.
Finally, the church was completed by its much-needed graveyard. Burial plots flanked it on all sides except the South, which had a big sweeping driveway to let the carriages deliver the wealthy to church. Unfortunately, the churchyard was soon full – but we’ll come to that later.
More than just bricks and mortar
And on the subject of the brick, or rather, stone – the stone that the church is built in was also sourced locally. It came from John Ward’s Calverley Quarry – and the same stone was used to build the Calverley Estate. The stone would originally have been a creamy colour, but weathers to the shade that it is today. The quarry was where Quarry Road is now – so if you live there, you should know that our building and many others came from right under your feet!
The builders were a local firm – Messrs Barrett and Sons – which consisted of Henry and Aaron Barrett, with Aaron leading the charge. Aaron worshipped in Holy Trinity, which we know because, tragically, his two children are buried here.
And finally! A Church is Born
On the Duchess of Kent’s birthday, 17th August 1827, Trinity’s foundation stone was laid. We know that The Duchess and the Princess Victoria (later Queen) were in Tunbridge Wells that summer, and while we don’t know if they attended this ceremony, the stone was laid in the Duchess’ honour.
This royal link was continued in future years as Victoria and her mother worshipped at Trinity several times during a visit to Tunbridge Wells between August and October 1834. As you can see from the below picture, the Royal standard flew whenever the royal party was in town.

Holy Trinity Church opened to the public two years later, on 3rd September 1829. In what was definitely Trinity’s first ticketed event (though not the last), the Bishop of Rochester consecrated the building. Trinity’s first vicar, Henry Woodgate, was in attendance, along with all of the town’s most respectable families.
The building was soon put to good use. The first baby, Charles Seamer, was christened on 11th April 1830. Less joyfully, the first burial soon followed. Fourteen-year-old Elizabeth Coxhead was interred on 30th April 1830, followed just days later by her brother.
The ‘New Church’ soon found itself at the heart of Tunbridge Wells life, especially as Decimus Burton’s ‘New Town’ suburb rose up next to it. Many more new buildings – and in the 1840s, the town’s first train station – would follow. With them came the whole spectrum of life and livelihoods that made up society at that time.
Like Britain around it, Trinity would peak in power within the next few years. Please read our next section to find out more!
1837-1900
Just eight years after Holy Trinity formally opened its doors, Queen Victoria acceded to the throne. She would reign from 1837 (just three years after her Trinity visits) until her death in January 1901.
Her time as Queen oversaw an astonishing period of British history. Building on the boom in industry and technology from the century before, England was (briefly) the richest country in the world.
Alongside homegrown achievements, the country was also accruing staggering wealth by pillaging colonised countries of their treasures and labour. Through modern eyes, the expansion of the Empire is a morally troubling chapter. However, its impact has undeniably shaped a huge portion of the world.
Victorian administration was also transformative, with regulations and organisation imposed, and information collected en mass. Enterprise was flying, and the middle class was established – further reinforcing a society governed by social status.
However, poverty was also rife. Such is the popularity of the work of Charles Dickens – perhaps the best-known author and social commentator of this time – that it’s easy for most people to picture the sharp contrasts of Britain then. His novels reflect the chasm between street urchins and their jewellery-laden targets; between upright moral guardians and a shady underworld.
The highs and lows of this era – the morals, perspectives, and opportunities – are reflected just as clearly in Trinity’s own records. Who was at Trinity during the 19th century, and why, also gives us a glimpse into other societal shifts – of new ways to make money, to spend leisure time, and of the hardships and illnesses that plagued this era, too.
Victorian bureaucracy (thank you, census!), means that this period is one of the most well-documented in our history. And, despite the many changes to the building, the impact of the people who were involved with Trinity in this era very clearly remain.
So, who were they?
The Upper Echelons
We’ve all heard the phrase ‘if only walls could talk’. Well, here’s the good news – Trinity’s can! Or rather, the memorial tablets placed there do. Often exquisitely carved, these love letters to the dead were set austerely in granite and marble to ensure that their message of remembrance would last.
And boy, have they. Some have even managed to remain in their original position, despite the world and building changing drastically around them. Of course, others have been moved completely. Please check back in our News section in the near future for details on these and what we plan to do for them.
We’ll also be regularly posting on our ‘People of Trinity’ series on our News pages about the people memorialised. We promise it’ll be worth the wait to read about our arctic explorers, fallen heroes, dissolute poets, strong women, and – sadly inevitably in this time – tiny babies.
In a time when many people left at best a fragile paper footprint, these memorials are valuable clues about the lives of Trinity’s wealthier congregants. They also reflect the spectrum of people that made up local high society.
Many people still came to Tunbridge Wells for their health and were just travelling through; otherwise lived here permanently. Others died abroad, seeking a fortune in the East Indies or other colonial hotspots, leaving family here to remember them.
Lots of the wealthy in ‘new’ Tunbridge Wells were not aristocracy but people who had made their fortune through trade or profession. For example, many of the residents of the flagship ‘suburb’ of Calverley Park were self-made merchants and doctors. We know that many of them worshipped here, including John Newton, the father of Charles Newton and the commissioner of his memorial.
Artistic Merit
The memorial tablets can also be admired in terms of their sculptors. We’re lucky enough to showcase work by Richard Westmacott the Younger (Lieutenant Charles Newton) and William Behnes (Maria Thomas), whose own lives are fascinating in themselves and just as revealing as their subjects’. Will we be writing more about this soon? How did you guess?
Patrons and Power
How eminent the sculptor was also gives a sense of the power of the family that commissioned them. For example, Maria Thomas came from the distinguished Woodgate family (her brother Henry was the first vicar here, and her father owned Summerhill and Tonbridge Castle).
But Trinity was not just for the wealthy, as its quota of free seats indicates. All kinds of people worshiped within its walls. Those with the most money and power left the biggest mark. As well as the memorials, outdoors the largest tombs indicate the most noteworthy individuals. These include that of Major General Elias Walker Durnford (the designer of the citadel at Quebec), the poet and author Horatio Horace Smith, and the Beeching family’s tomb. The Beechings founded the bank that is now Lloyds TSB, then called Beeching’s Bank (taking a marketing tip from Ronseal there).
However, our surviving graves plus the parish records give a glimpse of the cross-section of Tunbridge Wells society during those times, and reveal all kinds of lives. For example, this beautifully written marriage Banns record shows Baronets marrying next to basket makers.
The Churchyard
We cannot see Trinity’s cemetery as it was then, but we know from plans like the below that thousands were buried, all vying for space long before the car park was built.
Graveyard plan here: A graveyard plan from the 19th century, showing the volume of burials at Holy Trinity Church
This scale of burials contained in this map really underlines the extent to which Trinity was also filled with local working families. Professionals, tradespeople, servants and the poor all rubbed shoulders (or crinolines) with the elite. These included the makers of the much sought-after Tunbridge Ware, and the founder of the M Saltmarsh art shop (which still thrives today). All of their lives were just as intrinsic to the fabric of the town.

What Lies Beneath
In a society shaped by class and wealth, what we can read on the headstones today varies greatly according to how much the deceased person’s family could afford. How much was written, and what stone it was carved upon, both have an impact.
If you wander around you can make out many of the faded inscriptions – with the largest tombs mostly in the best condition. Changes to the building and the plot in the 20th Century have meant that many headstones were moved and placed against the walls. Along with physical grave restoration one of our key future projects will be to move some of these stones to look at what’s behind them and add to our knowledge of who is buried where.
It’s impossible to decipher the paupers’ graves, many of whom would have come from the workhouse at Pembury. These were unmarked to begin with, and now lie deep beneath our car-park. It’s another (huge and potentially impossible) future project to try to identify those buried here. However, their stories are just as important, however unhappy.
As of 2022, in conjunction with Friends of Trinity Cemetery (who have an excellent website with information on lots of our graves and memorials) we’re also looking to uncover the stories of the many lives that intertwined with this building. You can read more about them in the coming months – especially in the clocktower, when opened. However, even with what we know now, markers of the dead give a fascinating cross-section of Tunbridge Wells society.
Some people buried at Trinity have descendants still living in the area today. If you are one, please let us know! Some we know about already, including the actor Benedict Cumberbatch, whose great-grandfather is buried in the churchyard. Did your ancestor rub shoulders with him?
Last But By No Means Least
We haven’t yet addressed one utterly central type of person involved with Trinity: those running the church itself! The Reverends and Curates all guided and assisted their ever-growing Parish. Yet one man would elevate this role to incredible proportions, and have an impact on the town we can still feel today. Prepare to meet Canon Edward Hoare. SWOON!
Tunbridge Wells’ Spiritual Heart(throb)
Outside Trinity one Sunday, you join crowd of hundreds who have been queuing for hours to enter the building. You’d be forgiven for thinking that a member of rock, Hollywood or traditional Royalty was visiting (or that Johnny Depp had pre-publicised a follow-up visit to Folly Wildlife Rescue). However, between the years 1853 and 1894, you would in fact have been jostling to listen to the sermons of Canon Hoare.
You might recognise Canon Hoare’s name from the quote that began our Heritage section, which showed the depth of his influence upon the town. As we’ve discussed, Trinity was built as part of a wider campaign to boost religion to prevent revolution. It enjoyed some excellent vicars – all of whom played an admirable part in making Trinity a successful Parish and in banishing the looser morals of former centuries (well, at least on the surface).

However, it was Edward Hoare, appointed at the peak of Victorian piety, who became the most outstanding Anglican pin-up – the John Lennon to the rest of the Beatles if you will – or, in Victorian speak, the ‘Protestant Pontiff’ of the town.
As well as multiple testimonies from his contemporaries and peers, Canon Hoare’s memoirs and letters give a fascinating insight to what made the man so special. He is not completely exempt from some of the now outdated social views of his time – and be warned that he was not a fan of the ‘Church of Rome’. However, his gentleness, humbleness, empathy and humour shine clearly from each page. They create a picture of warmth and dedication that transcends any era.
It has been said that if Decimus Burton influenced the design of Tunbridge Wells, Edward Hoare shaped its character. Canon Hoare deserves (and will get) a blog post all to himself. Suffice to say that this cricket-loving, single-parenting, pro-abolition, sermon-smashing, highly philanthropic individual is well worth a read.
Some of the local achievements made by Canon Hoare included the building of new churches, the building of the girls’ school (which he also taught at), and the founding of a women’s Bible study group. He also did a lot of fundraising for those less fortunate than himself. Philanthropy was in his blood, as the nephew of Elizabeth Fry, the famous prison reformer. He touched thousands of lives, and the outpouring of grief at his funeral was immense.
He is not buried at Trinity (by that time the popularity of the town had ensured the churchyard was already full) but in the nearby Woodbury Park Cemetery. You can also view his memorial on St. John’s Road.
Here’s the Canon’s summary of his time at Tunbridge Wells – which also neatly describes Holy Trinity in the second half of the 19th century:
‘I can scarcely imagine a better sphere for the ministry than that which I have been permitted to occupy for nearly thirty-six years. I have had a large Parish, which, after four parochial districts have been taken from it, still contains more than six thousands persons, the population consisting of a well-proportioned mixture of gentry, tradesmen, and poor.
… I have had an excellent church, which, though I do not suppose it would satisfy the ecclesiologist, I have found to be the most commodious for the worship of God. There are three things in it quite at variance with modern fashion: instead of an open roof to generate cold in winter, heat in summer, and echo at all times, we have had a flat ceiling to protect us from the climate; and instead of having the people spread far and wide on the ground floor, there are deep galleries along three sides of the church, containing nearly six hundred persons, all within ear-shot; and instead of a low pulpit scarcely raising the preacher above the heads of his hearers there is an old-fashioned “three decker” of sufficient height to enable the preacher to see the whole of his congregation.’

Canon Hoare only retired from preaching two months before his death, by which time he was severely ill and blind. By the time of his death he’d left a profound legacy, not in the least the enthusiasm of his successor. Beneath him Trinity had thrived so much, and Tunbridge Wells’ population increased so much, that he had instigated and overseen the development of new parishes.
Surely, in this position of power as the nineteenth century drew to a close, nothing could go possibly go wrong.
Could it?
Was that a distant thunderclap we heard? Gulp!
1901 – 1970
Ah, just as it was going so well. As if it knew we’d one day present it as a play, history felt the need to inject some dramatic tension in the story of our hero, Trinity. After all, since its incarnation, Trinity had experienced almost no adversity whatsoever. Enter stage right: the Twentieth Century.
It must be said that Holy Trinity Church wasn’t the only thing that was about to experience a seismic upheaval as the world said goodbye to the 1800s. And right from the start, events didn’t bode well.
On a national level, the century started with a significant death: Queen Victoria died in January 1901. Her son succeeded her, continuing one of the few European monarchies that would last the next 70 years. But change was coming none the less.
On the home front, people were demanding change. Men wanted equality in voting, so that the ‘common’ man would have as much say as the gentry. And women, well….women were throwing themselves under horses and refusing to eat, just to that they could have any say at all. Suffragism and other union demands put pressure on the government and began to change the shape of society: how families looked and how people worked.
On the international stage power was shifting, too. Revolutions occurred. And then from 1914 everything changed forever. The First World War and its aftermath changed how everyone worked and lived. The roaring twenties were a brief respite before the Great Depression hit…and then not long after that, there was World War II.
As people rebuilt their lives, domestic life in the UK looked radically different to the way it had at the turn of the century. Women worked. People divorced. Technology boomed. As Henry Elwig’s slim but precious volume Holy Trinity Church: A Centenary History (which can be found in the library at The Amelia) puts it quite wonderfully:
‘These past one hundred years! A mere atom of time so far as count in history is concerned. Yet the period! More pregnant, more potent than a decade of past centuries! A period during which Crowns and Thrones have perished, Dynasties have changed, Continents have been explored, countries have been discovered and new Colonies founded. Great men of Science, Art, Literature and inventive genius have lived, moved, and had their being and passed on. Forces of Nature previously hidden from knowledge have been discovered and brought to light. And Steam, Electricity and other Generants have been harnessed and controlled to labour for the benefit of Man.’
And that was only 1929 (when, we should note, feminism and attitudes to Colonialism still had a long way to come). In 1929, Britain was only one World War down, and despite the inventions mentioned, not yet at the stage where every household would have a telephone, let alone a television or washing machine.
Likewise, whereas Church had previously held a position in the community that served a social function (as a parade of civility and moral uprightness) and as a way to carve some respite from daily life, by the 1930s people had so many music halls, theatres and cinemas to go to that they could find relief and distraction very easily elsewhere.
The strict Victorian morality had also shifted: no person who had lived through either war could fail to realise that life was short, and precious. As a result (and also, later, due to progress with contraception) people were more relaxed in their attitudes to former social traditions. That included listening to someone preaching on a Sunday.
The other factor was the creation of the welfare state, later in the century. The Church had always been a safety net of sorts for those congregants on the most difficult economic footing. However, with the State now able to provide the equivalent of ‘Poor Relief’, one more function of the church became redundant.
We get the picture. What about Trinity?
Holy Trinity weathered the earliest shocks of the century fairly well. These changes were all counted over by the new clock, installed by Smiths of Derby in 1914.
As the official church of the town, Trinity still landed – at least for the first third of the century – the biggest ‘shows’. For example, it was always the destination church at the end of each Mayoral procession.
In this prestigious guise, it also held the Thanksgiving service for the end of WWI in 1918 (and another for the signing of The Treaty of Versailles in 1919).
As mentioned earlier, Holy Trinity’s graveyard had long since been filled, but the church carried on with services, marriages and christenings in the usual run of things.
There’s lots of evidence too that the church and its vicars and wardens moved with the times and engaged with their congregants. For example, the enterprising vicar in charge in 1921 decided to use technology to reach his congregation when he oversaw the installation of telephones in some of the pews – allowing the hard of hearing to participate in the services.
As the century progressed, huge crowds still occasionally came – such as at the service of remembrance for King George VI in February 1952, when the church was so full that the sermons and hymns (including the late King’s favourite, Abide with Me) had to be played out to those gathered outside on loudspeaker.
However, these moments were increasingly rare, and despite the best efforts of all involved, Trinity’s core congregation had dwindled.
Rivals
As well as declining church attendance, Holy Trinity was also under threat from another source. In a cruel irony to the good works of Canon Hoare, and in sharp contrast to Trinity’s birth 150 years before, Tunbridge Wells now had more churches than it knew what to do with.
Canon Hoare (and others) had ensured that many more churches were built in Tunbridge Wells in the 19th century to enable everyone to come and worship. As well as St James, St. Peters and St. Johns mentioned above, there was also Christ Church on the High Street, and King Charles the Martyr had also became a parish in 1889.
But that was at a time when Tunbridge Wells, like the country around it, held church-going at the centre of its social life. Not only was life different now, but people had many different ways to ease their worries and lift their spirits.
Spiritual supply hugely outstripped demand.
Of the many churches in Tunbridge Wells, Holy Trinity became most at risk. Once surrounded almost solely by the homes of its congregants, it was now in the hub of commercial premises, and sharing an ‘audience’ with Christchurch.
The Threat of Demolition
In 1972, the church held its last religious service, and in 1973 The Diocese of Rochester declared that the ‘mother church’ was now considered pastorally redundant.
But if Trinity had then thought to itself that it had hit rock bottom, it would have been wrong. Worse was yet to come.
In 1975 a redundancy scheme was published, suggesting that Trinity was demolished and its parish combined with that of Christ Church.
Thunderclap. Fade to black. Curtain falls.
But… wait. Is that a car? Is it a plane? Is it….is it someone wearing flares?
1970s to Present
But they did presumably wear some very questionable items of fashion – because Trinity had a team of local superheroes come together to save it in the 1970s.
Their valiant and passionate protest meant that although Holy Trinity Church was lost, the building was given a reprieve.
So who were these men and women of steel? And how on earth did they change the mind of the Church Commission and the Diocese – who had already been presented with some potentially lucrative plans to sell the land to residential developers?
Flared Crusaders
When demolition called, the Civic Society answered. Formed in 1959, this local organisation’s mission is to develop and preserve the town for the good of all.
And so, when the local landmark was threatened, members of the society sprung into action. Their campaign – and involvement with other community groups – saw widespread local opposition grow. In response to this outcry the Church Commissioners granted a reprieve. On 14th October 1975, they gave the Civic Society just over year (the deadline was 1st November 1976) to come up with a viable scheme to use the building. Oh, and one more condition – they had to fund it, too.
If the sheer scale of this condition conjures an image of our 70s superheroes being tied up in the path of a Kryptonite-fuelled laser: don’t worry, you’re not alone.
But relax. What do most superhero stories have? That’s right: implausibly happy endings.
In our own case, luckily the Civic Society (and the Tunbridge Wells Drama Club, who it joined forces with to create the Appeal Committee) were not going to let a seemingly impossible task defeat them.
Echoing the efforts 150 years before, this group of men and women came together to create a much-needed addition to the community. And this is how they did it. Enter….
Operation Tireless
Okay, it wasn’t called that, but it should have been.
In a meeting much like that of 1824, it was decided that what the community needed was a venue for its musical and theatrical groups, and so the idea for Trinity Theatre and Arts Centre was born. With this vision in mind, the members of the Appeal Committee, Chaired by Lord Evans of Hungershall, canvassed, flyered – and held many civilised meetings – to curry public favour and enlist support.
The extraordinary and humbling dedication that these individuals gave – and in some cases continue to give – as well as their unfailing time, enthusiasm and energy was the recipe for success. By January 1976 the Church Commission approved their idea for a community theatre and arts centre, pending its economic viability.
Cue a LOT of fundraising, and by the deadline of 1st November the team had succeeded. In January 1977 the Diocese had officially granted their wishes – and a lease to the building!

The first bit seemed easy
The first battle was won, but the fight was far from over. It was now time to find the funds, time and energy to make the actual conversion happen, and turn a church into a working theatre. The campaigners formed an official organisation to take the project to the next level: the Trinity Theatre and Arts Association. Herbert Story became the Association’s first General Manager (a post he held for a decade), and through him – and the actions of the legions of incredible volunteers working alongside him – the Herculean task began.

It saw many years of work, energy and creative thinking (including using Kent College bricklaying students to build the auditorium while learning their craft!), but what was a shell of a building, in huge amounts of disrepair gradually became a functioning Theatre and Arts Centre.

From Spiritual to Cultural Heart of the Town
This effort was rewarded in 1982 with the first shows that summer. After that, Tunbridge Wells Borough Council became involved, giving a grant to enable heating to be installed. From there, numerous Grants, Awards and legacies followed (alongside an unfailing amount of dedication and work from volunteers, and, eventually, employees). This resulted in new seating, a new kitchen and bar area, and a computerised box office, all of which can be seen and enjoyed today.
For the theatre itself, there have been over 1,000 shows performed since that first, miniature run forty years ago.

Other important developments – in a narrative of rebirth and new life – was the formation of Trinity Youth Theatre in 1989, which underlines the organisation’s commitment to young people. Other important uses of Trinity today include its resident community groups, from art groups to Arts Society lectures, from toddlers and parents here to play, to seniors here to sing.

Finally, the churchyard is also now a garden – a precious green sanctuary to enjoy right in the heart of the town, and a home to the wildlife that we’re committed to nurturing and encouraging.
In 2022 we planted more trees, to honour the Queen’s Green canopy scheme, and our gardening volunteers have ensured that all sorts of plants and flowers are in abundance. We hope to attract a range of insects and other birds and animals in the garden. Our particular hope is to help swifts – a species in decline – by giving them a perfect nesting site within our Clocktower. In consultation with the High Weald Swifts group, we have installed four swift nestboxes, and play swift song each summer to help attract new pairs. As of 2024 swift sightings around the Clocktower had increased, so we’re keeping our fingers firmly crossed that 2025 might be our year!
Our Heritage Highlight in 2024
Thanks to the National Lottery Heritage Fund (and the lottery players who make it possible) and other sponsors, 2024 saw the realisation of a five year project: the opening of our historic Clocktower to the public. From spring to autumn each year, visitors can now explore this special space – and the unique views of the town – for the first time in Trinity’s history.
Highlights include our beautiful clock (which has been restored by the same company who installed it), plus visual, audio and interactive exhibitions and information about Tunbridge Wells’ history and Trinity’s past. Please visit our What’s On page for how to book (please note that while booking is essential – the space is for everyone and is completely free. All we ask is a donation from those who feel able to, to let us keep sharing our heritage in this way).
For those who don’t like heights (or wish to climb 118 steps) there is a fully accessible, interactive kiosk on the ground floor which provides a fully interactive Clocktower experience, step free! The kiosk is available whenever the Foyer is open.

Beyond 2025
You might assume that with the theatre established and the Clocktower open, the curtains can now close on our story.
However, unusually for a theatre, we don’t believe in final acts.
The reality is that work is still ongoing. The building will always need further repairs, and ongoing oodles of TLC to keep it safe, warm, and watertight.
The good news is that we’re passionate about the opportunities for conservation, and finding new ways to understand our local history that are accessible and open to all. Taking our inspiration from the community here over the past 200 years, we will continue to campaign tirelessly for more funds to complete more work, giving back to this regal building and uncovering more of its secrets.
We’re always looking for people to join us on this adventure, too, so please do come on in and visit in any way that suits you: from enjoying a performance to volunteering, to a coffee at our Cafe & Bar or taking part in our workshops.