No Time for a Bath in Bath
Story and Photos by Hilary Kaiser
On our recent trip to the west of England, my English friend, who was born in Bristol but no longer lives there, showed no inclination to drive me, or even accompany me, to the neighboring city of Bath, since, as he said, he’d been there “tens of times.” So, promising to be back by nightfall, I decided to go on my own.
The rapid train ride from Bristol to Bath, which cost a mere £8 round trip, only lasted ten minutes, but as soon as I stepped out of the Bath Spa train station, I felt as if I was in another world.
Now, don’t get me wrong, Bristol is a pleasant enough city and, despite its gray buildings, has some interesting historical landmarks, such as the Clifton suspension bridge with the beautiful Avon gorge below and the S.S.Great Britain steamship. Bath, however, is special.
Nestled in a vale of rolling green hills and boasting natural hot springs, Roman baths, archeological remains, and innovative 18th-century town planning of harmonious, cream-colored Georgian and neoclassical Palladian buildings made from local limestone, Bath has long attracted visitors. For example, during the Roman occupation of Britain, from the 1st to 5th centuries, the Romans built up a huge bath complex, the springs of which were first discovered by the Celts, and used them for public bathing. In the 18th century it was the leading health resort of elegant British society, so vividly described in some of Jane Austen’s novels.
Upon arrival at the Bath train station, I walked for about ten minutes through pedestrian streets to the entrance of the Roman Baths, where I joined a free, pre-booked, 10:30 a.m. walking tour given by the Mayor of Bath’s Corps of Honorary Guides. There were about 30 of us tourists, and the three guides who were there divided us into groups of ten. In my group, a Chinese-American IT engineer from California on a business trip to Bristol and I were the only visitors from outside the U.K., but our guide, T., said that before Covid the people in his groups used to come from all over the world.
We spent almost two and a half hours with T., a witty, native-born Bathonian of 73, who’s been a volunteer guide for 32 years and says he loves doing it. As one of the Mayor’s honorary guides, he and some 85 volunteers aren’t even allowed to accept tips. He was proud to tell us, though, that as appreciation for their work, the Mayor of Bath invites them once a year to an elegant reception at the Grand Pump House, a historic building and restaurant adjacent to the Roman Baths.
As we stood in the courtyard of the Abbey, we learned about the history of the Roman baths and archeological artifacts, the Pump House and the Abbey. Over the years of being a guide, T. has done his research on the City, and we heard some amazing facts. I didn’t take notes, but the UNESCO site on Bath sums up a lot of what he told us. For example, with reference to the Roman baths and museum, it states: “The Roman Baths and temple complex, together with the remains of the city of Aquae Sulis that grew up around them, make a significant contribution to the understanding and appreciation of Roman social and religious society.”
After listening to the introduction to the Baths, which have not been in use since 1978, and its museum, T. encouraged us to come back and visit the site after the tour was over, which I did later in the afternoon. But we were warned not to be disappointed by the putrid green color of the main Roman bath, and later upon seeing it, I understood why. The color of the water would certainly have put me off bathing in it, be it in Roman times or more recently!
Next, we learned about the Pump House, which houses a centuries-old pump where water arrives from the baths’ hot springs. It is now a tea-room and restaurant. On certain days of the week between 12 and 2:30 p.m., while having tea or a meal there, one can ask the waiter to be served a glass of water from the pump’s fountain. But then again we were warned that the water has a terrible taste!
Across the courtyard from the Roman baths and the Pump House stands the Abbey of Bath. Once a Benedictine monastery, it was restored at the initiative of Queen Elizabeth I, following a visit to Bath in 1574, and is impressive because of its size, its 52 windows with most of them being in stained glass, and its fan-vaulting ceiling. I visited it on my own in the afternoon. Today it is an active parish church of the Church of England and offers tours, exhibitions, and concerts.
After about 45 minutes, we left the Abbey courtyard and strolled down a street where we were shown a UNESCO insignia engraved in the cobblestones indicating that Bath has been a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1987.
Passing by the Theatre Royal, which was built in 1805 and is still a working theater — one of the oldest in Britain — we stopped at the site of the modern spa, across from which lies a small structure housing another of Bath’s natural thermal springs, this one with the warm, clear, blue water of the Cross Bath. It has been said that the Bath springs are the warmest geothermal springs found in the U.K., and this is why the city has always been “a spa town.”
Apparently, the modern city once had municipal hot pools, but they were closed in 1978 after a girl died of meningitis due to an infectious organism in the water. The bathing waters of Bath remained closed for 28 years, and it was not until 2006 that a new commercial spa was re-opened.
Today, standing on the historic site, the Thermae Bath Spa is housed in a contemporary building and has an open-air swimming pool on its roof. Since most of us were gazing with envy at the bathers up there in their white robes, T. encouraged us to return later on in the day to the Spa, where, he said, we could have a two-hour spa session and swim for only £37.
Continuing our tour, we walked through Royal Victoria Park up to the Royal Crescent, which is truly a jewel of Georgian architecture. Designed by John Wood the Younger, the Royal Crescent was built between 1767 and 1774.
How to describe it? Thirty terraced houses made of honey-colored stone and Ionic columns arranged in a huge crescent giving the impression of a single curved building on an emerald green lawn, in the middle of which, said T., pointing to a strange-looking half-hidden wall, is a “ha-ha.
The Brits on the tour all seemed to know what a ha-ha meant and nodded their heads. My American compatriot and I had never heard the word used in that way before. For us, “ha-ha” meant an expression of laughter, so we each Googled it on our phones.
I discovered the following: “A ha-ha is a type of sunken fence that was commonly used in landscaped gardens and parks in the eighteenth century. It formed a boundary to a park or garden without interrupting the view. It involved digging a deep, dry ditch, the inner side of which would be built up to the level of the surrounding turf with either a dry-stone or brick wall. By this means the formal garden of a (usually) grand house was separated invisibly from the park where livestock (cattle, deer, and sheep) grazed…Ha-ha is mentioned in chapters 9 and 10 of Mansfield Park.” Judging from the length of the ha-ha of the Royal Crescent, I can just imagine the size of the properties of 18th C. wealthy people who built ha-has in their gardens. And if you tried crossing their meadow or field, just like the animals, you fell into a ditch!
As we oohed and aahed at the magnificent structure, we learned that most of the houses in the Royal Crescent have now been converted into apartments. One townhouse, however, is a museum and another is The Royal Crescent Hotel and Spa; the few single-family townhouses that still exist in the Crescent rarely come up for sale. When my American compatriot boldly asked T. how much one would cost, he replied, “About £4 million.”
After our visit to the Royal Crescent, we walked over to “The Circus”, which is a 360° ring of 30 townhouses, divided into groups of 10, encircling a plot of land with huge trees in the middle. Designed by architect John Wood, the Elder, The Bath Circus was built between 1754 and 1768 and is regarded as another significant example of Palladian architecture. As in the 18th century, owning a house today on The Circus means you live at a very posh address. Here’s a bit of trivia: Supposedly, even though the owner of a certain house in The Circus wishes to remain anonymous, it is common knowledge that it belongs to Hollywood star Nicholas Cage.
Our final destination was The Assembly Rooms, designed and built by John Wood, the Younger. Reigned over by Master of Ceremonies Richard (“Beau”) Nash, they were often referred to as the most elegant cultural center in the country. Fashionable Georgian society gathered in The Rooms for concerts and other forms of entertainment, as well as for balls, which were held twice a week. To find out about the atmosphere of the time, we were advised to re-read some of Jane Austen’s novels. Apparently, the author lived in Bath with her parents and sister from 1801 to 1805, and in both Northanger Abbey and Persuasion The Assembly Rooms are mentioned.
T. ended the tour at The Rooms. As we all “elbowed” goodbyes, he thanked us for coming to Bath, and we thanked him for a great two and a half hours packed with interesting information.
By this time, I was starving, and having just 20 minutes before my reservation at the Roman Baths, I found a food stand and ordered a take-away meal. What did I buy? A British dish I’d never had before: “bubble and squeak” with chicken. Created in the 18th century and referred to in Jane Austen’s novels, “bubble and squeak” apparently originally owed its name to the sound it made in the frying pan. My modern-day version of the dish, which also included pieces of chicken, was made with mashed potatoes, Brussels sprouts, onions, and shredded cabbage. It was delicious, and the portion was so big I even had enough left over to eat for dinner.
After lunch, I spent about an hour and a half wandering around the Roman Baths and the exhibits of the museum taking photos. While I did this I listened to the very instructive audio-guide included in my entrance ticket and admired hologram images of ancient Romans being projected on the walls in various rooms. By the time I’d visited the Baths, the archaeological museum, and the Abbey church, it was already 3 p.m. and would be dark by about 4, so I returned on foot to the train station to catch my train back to Bristol, where my friend would be waiting for me.
Had I had more time in Bath, I’d have indulged in a session and gone for a swim at the Thermae Bath Spa, had tea and sampled the fountain water at The Pump Room, relished a Sally Lunn bun in her famous home (now a tea room and restaurant), visited the Jane Austen Museum, and walked along the River Avon. There’s so much to see in Bath, and five hours definitely was not enough. But even though I had only a few hours there, I loved my visit to this golden-colored city and really hope to return someday — maybe even “tens of times”!
