Dear Reader,
As any Jane Austen fan knows, it is a truth universally acknowledged that a visitor in possession of some free time is in want of a day out in Bath.
Strolling around this UNESCO World Heritage Centre’s dandy, Georgian streets, it’s tempting to describe Bath as if it were a character in one of Austen’s novels.
Bath is clothed in honey-coloured limestone whose complexion radiates even on a grey wintry day, and its healing waters that attract visitors from far and wide still flow through its veins today.
Its buildings create a fascinating cast, and one of its leading characters is Royal Crescent. This stretches for five hundred feet in one semi-elliptical curve. It is stylishly flamboyant, with an air of sophistication.
Comprising thirty individual properties, John Wood, the Younger designed and built Royal Crescent between 1767 and 1774.
Set high on one of Bath’s many hills, the grand lawn before Royal Crescent drapes steeply away like a chiffon dress, ensuring fine views across the city. Wood wanted residents to enjoy the benefits of city living, while feeling as if they were staying in one of their grand open-country estates.
Just a few steps away, stage right, I stumble across another of Bath’s architectural characters, designed by John Wood’s father, John Wood the Elder. The Circus is a perfect circle of three curved terraces and took fourteen years to complete.
Circus means ring, or circle, in Latin, and John Wood the Elder took inspiration from another nearby circle, Stonehenge. The outer earth bank surrounding Stonehenge has a diameter of 325 feet. The Circus is only slightly smaller at 318 feet.
The three curved buildings that make up the Circus also draw inspiration from Rome’s Colosseum, because they use three different column styles. Doric columns support the ground floor, Ionic columns support the first floor, and Corinthian columns support the top storey, mirroring the Colosseum.
Three roads lead off The Circus, one of which is Gay Street, and it’s along here that I pass The Jane Austen Centre.
“Good day to you, sir!” declares a pristinely dressed gentleman by the door, doffing his magnificent hat.
If I’m not mistaken, it’s Mr Knightley from Austen’s novel, Emma.
He gestures inside. “Please avail yourself of this fine establishment.”
Well, when put so politely, it would be rude not to!
My entrance ticket includes a short introductory talk and Mrs Bennet begins by explaining how Jane was one of eight children, six of whom were brothers.
Although Jane was born in Hampshire, her parents married in Bath and visited frequently before they moved here in 1801. During a six-week visit in 1799, Jane stayed at 13 Queen Square, which is where historians believe she finished writing Northanger Abbey.
When her father retired in 1801, they first moved into Sydney Place, then later Green Park Buildings East. However, after her father’s death in 1805, they had to find cheaper accommodation and moved to Gay Street.
“Unfortunately,” Mrs Bennet continues, “not the building we’re sitting in now, but number 25 further up the road, which is now a dental surgery!”
After the introductory talk, we’re led into a large exhibition area, with several paintings of Jane adorning the wall, several of which I remember from my school days. But a life-size model of what historians believe to be the closest ever likeness of Jane Austen looms large in one alcove.
Using eyewitness accounts and forensic techniques, it took three years to produce, and looks very different to the image many of us would recognise from the back of an English ten-pound note.
The next chapter in my Bath visit takes me to a place Jane would vaguely recognise. Bath Abbey dominates the city centre, although the building towering above me today is not the first draft, but one that has been through several edits.
The first building was a monastery to St Peter, dating from about 757AD. This was given to the Bishop of Wells in 1088, who decided Bath needed a large cathedral instead, and so knocked it down. By the end of the fifteenth century, that cathedral had fallen into disrepair, prompting the construction of a new one.
This was later closed during King Henry VIII’s reign and fell into ruin. In 1572, the remains were granted to the people of Bath to use it as their parish church, and it was fully restored by 1620.
Further restoration took place in 1833, some sixteen years after Jane’s death, so she wouldn’t recognise the huge flying buttresses that now adorn the outside walls.
Stepping inside, I’m torn between staring at the vast, stained-glass East Window or the magnificent vaulted ceiling. The window’s sheer beauty belies its turbulent history. It was badly damaged during the 1942 Bath Blitz and many glaziers declared it unrepairable.
But a father-and-son glazing team thought otherwise and in October 1954 the window was back to its former glory. Volunteers salvaged sixty per cent of the original glass, which was reused in the restoration.
Just to the left of the East Window is another smaller, but historically important, window. It depicts the coronation of King Edgar in 973. Edgar was the first King of all England, and the coronation happened here in Bath, in the original monastery. It was this event that laid the foundations for every monarch’s coronation service ever since.
Looking up at the Abbey’s impressive vaulted ceilings reminds me I’m booked onto the Tower Tour at twelve noon. There are eight of us climbing the 200 steps all the way to the top.
Thankfully, we don’t have to do it all in one climb, as we pause for breath in the bell ringing room. Dating from 1700, the Abbey’s bells are the same ones Jane Austen would have heard when living here.
Emily, our guide, explains that the bells’ sound travels for over three miles. This allowed people in the city and surrounding villages to keep track of the time. However, it’s only when bell-ringers ring them that the bells are this loud. Bell-ringing involves swinging the bells in the huge wooden frames, almost full-circle, allowing the clapper to hit the outer rim forcefully.
Another way to sound the bells is to chime them. Chiming is when a small hammer hits the outside of the stationary bell.
“Who’d like to have a go at chiming the bells?” Emily asks. She points to a selection of eight thinner ropes attached to the wall. “Pick three, and pull each one relatively hard,” she instructs.
We all have a go, each of us ringing three different bells, creating an unusual tune!
“It’s okay,” says Emily. “When you chime the bell, the sound only travels a few hundred yards.”
Phew! At least we’re only annoying the shoppers in the streets below with our chiming.
From here, it’s another tight spiral staircase up to the tower top, with its amazing views of Bath. It’s like being an omniscient narrator in a novel, being able to see what all the characters are doing.
Looking east, I can make out the rooftop Thermae Bath Spa, where people are relaxing in Bath’s naturally heated spring water. Down to my left are the Roman Baths. Now there’s a character I want to know more about.
It’s a quick step across the precinct to the Roman Baths. Bath, or Aquae Sulis, as the Romans called it, was not a garrison town like many Roman fortresses around Britain, but a place of relaxation and recreation.
This is because they used Britain’s only naturally heated spring for bathing and curative purposes. These underground springs release over one million litres of warm water every day. Typically, the water emerges from underground at a temperature of about 46 degrees Celsius.
The Great Bath was once undercover, but today it’s open to the elements. It has two levels. The water lever is actually four metres below street level, and Roman statues line the upper level. These statues are not Roman, though. They’re Victorian!
The museum complex is vast and fascinating, with a variety of artefacts and finds. It’s amazing what some Romans dropped in the water while they were bathing, including coins and jewellery. As I wander round to the Sacred Spring, I can see the steam rising off the water into the cool, winter air.
The nearby River Avon is not so warm as it cascades over Pulteney Weir. This vast crescent weir was built in 1795 to maintain river levels and help provide energy for the city’s textile mills that once thrived here.
Behind it stands another of Bath’s fascinating characters, Pulteney Bridge. This unusual bridge is the only historic bridge, apart from Florence’s Ponte Vecchio, to have shops built into it.
As a closing scene to my Bath experience, it’s a pretty dramatic one!
I have several favourite novels that I enjoy re-reading time and time again. Bath is like one of those novels. You could say, dear reader, I fell in love with the place.
Factfile
- Bath Abbey’s East Window comprises 864 square feet of glass.
- Bath’s hot springs are fed by rain that fell on the Mendip Hills over 10,000 years ago.
- On 2nd May 1840, the first Penny Black postage stamp was sent from 8 Broad Street, Bath.
- Bath is popular with television and film producers. It’s been a setting for Bridgerton, Poldark, Sherlock, The Remains of the Day, Wonka, and Les Miserables.
- Mary Shelley wrote most of Frankenstein while lodging in Bath in 1816.
Getting There
By Road: Bath is 10 miles from Junction 18 of the M4, and 12 mile south-east of Bristol on the A4.
By Rail: Regular services connect Bath Spa station with London Paddington (90 minutes) and Bristol (15 minutes).
By Bus: First Bus operates services connecting Bath with Warminster, Bradford-on-Avon, Trowbridge, Frome, and Bristol
Want To Know More?
www.visitbath.co.uk