Mansion House: Riots, riches and the story behind Bristol’s most prestigious address

Clifton Manor is the official residence of the Lord Mayor, a place where visiting dignitaries are entertained. It is a grand Victorian edifice which is also available for hire for conferences, private events and as a wedding venue.

It wasn’t always like that. The mayor of Bristol has never had an official residence, although – in the old local tradition of talking but not doing – the idea was first mooted in 1658.

In that year Oliver Cromwell had died, and although the Lord Protector was supposed to preside over a republic, his office fell to his son Richard, as if he were heir. Richard Cromwell would prove ineffective, lacking the authority and ruthlessness of his father, but despite being called “Queen Dick” behind his back, he went through the motions of being in charge.

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A planned visit to Bath had the fathers of Bristol falling over themselves to keep pace with the new regime and prove their loyalty to the new Protector. As he would be nearby, he was also invited to visit Bristol, although Bristol was still suffering from the ravages of civil war and the Corporation was heavily in debt.

It was, however, decided to provide a fine house to entertain the great guest and his retinue, but also to be used for “the future reception of dignitaries, judges, &c.” Unfortunately, this original idea for what was to become the Mansion House proved unaffordable and instead the Corporation demonstrated its love for Cromwell Jr with four cases of wine and about a hundred loaves of bread, which were passed on at Bath and presented with a letter of invitation. , which was accepted.

The visit took place on July 3rd, on which day “the most illustrious gentleman … was met, about three miles from the town, by the sheriffs and about 300 gentlemen on horseback, and conducted, amid many salutes of artillery, to Tolzey , where the mayor and the Council were present to honor him.”

Cromwell was lodged at the house of Colonel Aldworth, the town clerk, in Broad Street, and the next day, after making a tour of the town on horseback, sat down to a “noble dinner, for which a supply of wine (costing no less than £140) had been supplied.”

In keeping with the style of Cromwell’s father’s Puritan regime, this was not the kind of rowdy affair the city fathers had hosted before (and even more so after). A sign of the times was that among the expenses of the Protector’s visit was £13 4s – think of that as several thousand today – paid to Mr Ralph Farmer, minister of St Nicholas, for ‘prayers and grace’.

Bristol might not have gone so far as to buy a great house, but Richard Cromwell’s visit was quite expensive, and whatever he thought of Bristol, he would have plenty of time to do us some favour. In less than two years “Tumbledown Dick” had been deposed, and his place taken by Charles II.

The idea of ​​a Manor would not be discussed again for more than a century. In the late 1770s the Corporation considered buying a house in St James Barton belonging to Sir Abraham Elton, but for some reason this plan was abandoned. The problem became more pressing in the days of the “old corruption”.

Not only was a manor house needed as a symbol of Bristol’s civic grandeur. No, the real problem was that the rich men who ran Bristol refused to serve as mayor because the trappings of the office weren’t big enough.

In addition, they did not like to entertain visiting dignitaries and other civic guests in their own homes. It was too expensive and too disruptive. So it was that a corner house at the east end—on the north row—of Queen Square was purchased, fitted up and furnished at enormous expense.

Costs included £4 for a ‘large turtle tube’, turtles being much in favor as a delicacy at the grand functions enjoyed by the local elite at the time. All was ready by 1786, and at last the mayor had a residence which his colleagues felt adequately reflected the grandeur and opulence of the city, and indeed one which they themselves might look forward to occupying if they would be elected for mayor at a future date. .

Unfortunately, it was not to last. Following the Queen’s Square riots of 1831, an official wrote to the mayor, Charles Pinney, that there had been “a dreadful destruction by fire of property”, including “the town hall house with all the furniture and other valuable effects therein”. (We’d imagine the mayor was already well aware of this.)

A committee was formed to consider the options and decided in favor of fitting out a house in Great George Street which had been purchased some years before. Now this too would be decorated and furnished in appropriate style.

Despite the great expense, this house was only used for a short time, as the spirit of the Reformation prevailed. The Municipal Corporations Act of 1835 removed many old abuses, and local elites across the country found their former privileges of local office severely curtailed.

The New Manor was closed and its furniture and wine cellar put up for auction. The auctioneer’s ad gives us an idea of ​​how well the local elders did before the crackdown.

The wines, it was said, were chosen “with the best care and judgment, by order of the late Corporation of this city for civic hospitality, without a thought that any change in our municipal institutions would be the means of making a stock so splendidly. distributed to the public with the hammer.”

There were 278 dozen bottles of “the choicest port in excellent condition,” 124 dozen of “Capital sherry,” and 128 dozen of Old East India Madeira, and many others. In total, the sale raised over £1,500 – impossible to translate accurately into modern terms, but at the time it would have taken a skilled worker two or three lifetimes to earn that much.

For the next 38 years, the mayor of Bristol had no official residence. Visiting dignitaries were entertained at whatever suitable building was available – quite often it was at Merchant’s Hall – the building of the Merchant Venturers’ Society – at the end of King Street. (It was lost in the Blitz, and the Merchants’ Hall is now in Clifton, a few doors away from the present Mansion House.)

Then, 150 years ago, Alderman Thomas Proctor (1812-76), made a very generous bequest to the town. He gave his own house to Bristol for the mayor’s residence. He could afford it, of course, but still, it was just one of the many gifts he gave.

Proctor, who was probably born in the Midlands, came to Bristol in the 1830s to run the family’s “rags and bones” business. It wasn’t quite as low as it sounds – although Proctor himself often joked about being “a man of rags and bones” – the bones were used as fertilizer. Proctor kept abreast of all the latest scientific developments in the field of fertilizers and turned it into a successful business.

In the 1860s he also branched out into property, building houses in Clifton and Redland during the building boom of Victorian Bristol. Proctor did well and was quick to share his fortune. He gave large sums – in secret – to the restoration of St Mary Redcliffe Church.

In 1875 he donated land he owned in the Fish Ponds for children’s outings. He paid for a large (wooden?) shed to be built with some basic catering facilities and there were swings in the gardens. The idea here was to provide a place for school and Sunday school outings in what was, at the time, effectively the countryside.

By this time Proctor had long been one of Bristol’s leading citizens. Elected to the Council, he had been made a councilor and was also a magistrate. He had been High Sheriff and would no doubt have been Mayor, though his ill health and death prevented it.

In 1865 he bought land in one of the most luxurious parts of Clifton, The Promenade, and commissioned local architects George and Henry Godwin to build a house. The Elmdale House, as it would be called, had 22 rooms, including a large drawing room and a billiards room. Here he lived with his wife Mary and daughter Mary Eveline in appropriate style. The 1871 census tells us that they had six live-in servants.

In 1874, Proctor gave it to the city for use as the new mansion house. In fact, he apparently commissioned architects to design the house with this specific intention in mind, although it would remain secret until it was handed over, along with a sum of money for repairs, fit-outs and decorations.

His gift had the effect (as he almost certainly anticipated!) of causing the other fathers of the town to compete with each other to make gifts for his new residence, including a valuable set of china, as well as some of the paintings which still hangs on the walls today.

Whether or not Proctor would have approved of people getting married there, rather than in a church, is another matter. But it certainly would have been okay if the place earned its keep.

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