Postcard from Bath

BATH, ENGLAND – There is only one way to gain the immersive feeling one has of strolling into one of Jane Austen’s novels, and that is to enter by way of Bath. Bath, named after the baths of Roman times one can take in the vicinity, is a countryside where a myriad of possible activities abound. It is the last waning days of summer, and folks seem apprised of the vestiges of good weather.

A famous story of Bath, of unsubstantiated precedence, is that of a king’s son, returned from Greece having contracted leprosy. When he escaped imprisonment, he came to this region to raise pigs. In discovering pigs that had fallen into mud recovered from skin disease, he doused himself with the substance and found himself to recover from the outlook of leprosy.

This we heard tell as we entered the quaint region of Cotswold. The houses on either side of dirt road made famous from such movies as Sense and Sensibility, small flower wind its way up the terraces. The lined fields give indication of days past when land distribution was still largely feudal. From atop the hill, the white tiled cottages stretched across the valley. In the opposite direction, the waters from the shores of England could be seen.

The Jane Austen Centre, where she lived briefly, is now home to a recreated version of what it must have been like for her and her sister Cassandra to dwell and to think and to be a part of their society. Quotes scattered throughout the tour lead one to recognize Austen’s sardonic sense of humor, her otherness from this propriety.

Bath was integral to Jane Austen’s family. Her parents were married in this town, home to the abbey where kings of past were crowned, and she lived there for a stint in her late twenties. Walking through the town center in late summer, the warm sunlight bounces off the Roman edifices, and history remarkably scales back for the here and now. A late summer’s farmer’s market is being held in the park square, and warm cider and bratwurst are to be had. Everywhere you look, there are folks seated eating and chatting. It is not difficult to imagine Jane Austen making this quiet countryside nook her home.