Tucked away across Bristol’s historic streets, hidden markers once defined parish boundaries – and still quietly trace its medieval past. Andrew Swift walks through the heart of the city to reveal these rare remnants, telling tales of ancient rates, civic life and a forgotten system of local governance…
Heading into the city across Bristol Bridge, if you happen to stop partway across to admire the view downstream, you may notice a plate bearing a monogram and a couple of numbers attached to the balustrade. This is not, as you might suppose, a maker’s mark, but a parish boundary marker. Although something of a rarity today, there were once hundreds of these across the Bristol.
They performed an important function, for it was essential for people to know where one parish ended and another started, and with 10 parishes in the old walled city alone this could be very confusing. The reason they needed to know was because householders had to pay rates to the parish in which they lived. These paid for such things as street lighting, parish constables and poor relief. Naturally, people were as reluctant to pay these rates (as they are to pay taxes today) so, to ensure there could be no doubt as to which parish a particular house belonged, boundary markers were placed or carved on a convenient wall – or in this case on a bridge.
Annual perambulations were made, accompanied by beating of the bounds, along with junketings and libations to encourage participation. This ensured not only that parishioners knew where the boundaries lay but also that all the markers – most of which were numbered – were where they should be.
In the 1830s, however, parliamentary reform saw the responsibility for just about everything taken away from parishes, making parish boundary markers obsolete. Today, only a handful survive, in some of the obscurest corners of the city, yet a walk of just over two-thirds of a mile through a warren of medieval alleys – starting at Bristol Bridge – can take in most of them.
On your marks…
The marker on the bridge – SN 42 – marks the boundary of St Nicholas Parish. So it will come as no surprise that the church ahead is that of St Nicholas. If you head up past the church and turn left along St Nicholas Street, you will find another marker – SN 5 – at the bottom of All Saints Lane, to the left of the entrance to the covered market.
Carry on and take the next right up Exchange Avenue, stopping when you come to Brookes Guesthouse on the left. To the right of the entrance is another marker – SN 12 (although the 1 is missing). On the other side of the avenue, a little further along, carved on a keystone over a doorway, is St N 11. To the left of it is the faint outline of another number – 13. This marked the boundary of the adjoining parish of St Werburghs, but any trace of its name has long vanished.
St Nicholas Market extends across three parishes, and if you go into the South Arcade – the entrance to which lies to your right – you will find two sets of markers on the north side indicating the boundaries of St Nicholas, St Werburgh and All Saints parishes. To get an idea how small these parishes were, head back out and continue along Exchange Avenue. When your reach Corn Street, look to the right to see the dome and cupola of All Saints, and then look across to Dirty Martini on the west corner of Small Street, which stands on the site of St Werburghs. It was taken down in 1876 and rebuilt a mile and half away in a newly-built suburb which then became known as St Werburghs.
Head along Small Street, and, towards the end, look to the right to see, just beyond Urban Tandoor, St W carved in stone, with St L, much smaller, carved above it. This marks the boundary of St Werburgh’s and St Leonard’s parishes. Another marker for St Leonard’s, restored and remounted on the wall of a modern building, can be seen across the street.
At the end of Small Street, turn left, and, after passing the White Lion, look for another St Leonard’s marker on the right-hand side of the Milk Thistle. Follow the pavement as it curves left along St Stephen’s Street, and on the former Bristol Times & Mirror Building – now Bristol Backpackers – you’ll find the fragmentary remains of two more St Leonard’s markers – one at either end. Carry on, passing St Stephen’s church on the right, and at the end of the street you come to the site of St Leonard’s church. It was built on the city wall and had a narrow gateway leading through it, so in 1771, when the street was widened, the church had to be demolished.
Turn left here and, after passing Stanford’s bookshop, turn left into an alleyway called Leonard Lane which ran inside the walls. After 50m, on the left, are two markers for St Leonard’s and St Stephen’s. A little further along on the right, just past the entrance to the Centrespace Gallery, is a St Leonard’s marker, whose unpolished style suggests it may be the oldest in the city. A little further on, remounted on a modern building, is yet another St Leonard’s marker.
After going through an archway, cross Small Street and head straight on, following the line of the walls along Bell Lane. A little way along on the left, set into a brick wall and encrusted with paint, is a marker for St Leonard’s alongside one for the Parish of St John the Baptist, whose church, with an archway which led through the city walls, is a little further on. Carry on past St John’s along the line of the walls and follow the lane as it curves past the Rock & Bowl Hostel along Tower Lane. On the right, set into a wall, alongside another marker for St John the Baptist, is one for Christ Church, the church at the top of Broad Street.
If you retrace your steps to the Rock & Bowl Hostel, turn left along John Street and left at the end along Broad Street to Horts, you will see, on the right-hand side of the building, two more Christ Church markers, one carved and one cast in iron.
That is the end of this brief perambulation, but if you want to discover more, head down to King Street to see a metal and a carved St Leonard’s marker on the old library (now the Cathay Rendezvous) and a St Nicholas marker on the corner of the nearby Small Bar. Or head back across Bristol Bridge and turn left along Bath Street to see, towards the end of the Georgian terrace, markers for Temple Parish – whose church is now a gutted shell – and St Thomas – whose church lies in St Thomas Street. More doubtless await discovery, not only lurking in unfrequented corners of the city but also in Bristol’s out parishes, where, as in other rural areas, stones were set up by the roadside. But that, as they say, is another story…
To find out more about Bristol’s medieval parishes, visit bafhs.org.uk, where you’ll find a dedicated section via the ‘resources’ tab. For more of Andrew Swift’s work, visit akemanpress.com
