Like Ralph Allen, Beau Nash and John Wood – both father and son – in Bath, Frome can claim its own visionary in the shape of solicitor turned philanthropist Thomas Bunn.
At one time, Frome was wealthier and more prosperous than its neighbour, Bunn liked to regale, and made it his life’s mission to restore the town to its former glory.
But even if his achievements are ultimately overshadowed by the likes of Prior Park, the Assembly Rooms and the Royal Crescent, his passion can never be diminished.
Thomas Bunn was born in Frome, in 1767, but part of his schooling was undertaken almost a dozen miles away in the opulent Georgian City of Bath.
And it was while there he became entranced by the architecture and grandeur of the former medieval town, which by then, had elevated itself to premier spa resort.
After leaving school he trained as a solicitor but being financially independent – his affluent father had died when Thomas was eight – he had no need to practice.
Instead, he was able to devote himself to improving the aesthetics of his native town and the lives of those less fortunate than himself who lived within it.
It is said that when he used to leave his residence in Cork Street – Monmouth House – he would walk along the road with his hands clasped behind his back.
He would then drop the coins he was holding in them onto the pavement, so that the poor and destitute waiting nearby could rush and gather them up.
The reason he kept his back turned though, at least in his own mind, was so that the people remained unseen by him and therefore retained at least part of their dignity.
He also became involved in everything that promoted the town and its population, from its buildings and education, to better roads and the welfare of its citizens.
While the likes of North Parade and Bath Street attest to the success he achieved, there are also reminders of grand schemes that proved fruitless and came to nothing.
One of these was for the design of a magnificent crescent, equal to anything erected over in Bath, and which would have been the crowning glory of his vision.
All that was completed, however, were two pillars – end markers for this proposed structure – that still reside today Ozymandias-like on Christchurch Street West.
His participation in other aspects of Frome life are too numerous to mention, but one gets a sense of them through the diary (covering 1836-1850) he left behind.
Edited by Derek Gill and published as ‘Experiences of a 19th Century Gentleman’, it not only gives an insight into the man, but a snapshot of mid-nineteenth century Frome.
If the entries reflect a town during reform and transition, their author is revealed as a person rock solid in determination, with a symbolic FROME running throughout.
Thomas Bunn died in 1853 and is buried in Christ Church graveyard, with his railing-encircled resting place being cared for by members of Frome Society for Local Studies.
In terms of his legacy, perhaps the fate of his will – which promised so much for the town and its people – reflects the sad postscript to his lifetime of intention.
The immense document – stretching to 85 pages long – was meticulously drawn up by Bunn with the sole purpose of benefiting Frome after his death.
But the details involved in creating the Bunn Trust proved so complex and difficult to interpret, the bulk of his estate finally ended up going to distant relatives.
Yet the final word on his life should perhaps be given over to his epitaph: ‘Blessed is he that considereth the poor and needy.’
Mick Davis and David Lassman
