In Bath

February 9th - 11th, 2019

Even more so than in Bristol, the first thing you notice in Bath is the pale yellow, Cotswolds limestone used for its walls and towers. Most of the city seems to have been built in the Hanoverians' heyday, the 18th century, and those that are more modern imitate that Regency style, the classic columns framing doorways, tall, arched windows, terraces and crescents, or are at least deliberately built from the same kind of stone so that the city has a uniform look to it. On Sunday morning we walked up to the Royal Crescent, like Park Crescent at Regent's Park in London, but on a hill above a park (the Royal Victoria Park), so more imposing.

Pulteney Bridge and the flooded River Avon

When it finally stopped teaming with rain, after I'd festooned our damp clothes over the whole room  where we were staying, we ventured out and saw that the River Avon had overflowed its banks. A pale sunset lit up the clearing sky, but more rain fell that night. By Saturday morning, the weir below Pulteney Bridge had became so full of water that its curves had practically disappeared. The Parade Gardens gave us a good view of it. We walked past the bridge to stop at the café above the Waitrose supermarket by the Central Library, a surprisingly comfortable, quiet and uncrowded haven in the city that swarms with tourists at all times of year. At lunch hours or supper time it is quite difficult to find places a table for four without a prior reservation. We managed to find one at Las Iguanas on Friday, where we could choose from a menu of Mexican, Brazilian, or Peruvian dishes, at an impressive Bengali restaurant (the Indian Eye on Quiet Street, sited in a splendid upstairs assembly hall), a whole male rugby team (we guessed) dining at the adjacent tables, on Saturday, and at an equally splendid but considerably quieter Thai restaurant on Sunday. For breakfast we chose a corner coffee shop, offering coffee ground and roasted by the owner, near our hotel.

It is well known that he Romans called the place Aquae Sulis, but not so well known that King Bladud, King of the Britons in 1000 years before the Roman invasion, dedicated the healing power of its springs to the Celtic goddess Sul. Bladud couldn't inherit his throne, at first, because he had leprosy. Banished from the palace he became a swineherd, roaming over the country with his herd of pigs, he came to this area, where the pigs, rolling around in the mud warmed by the hot springs were cured of scurvy and other skin complaints. Bladud did the same, and was cured himself. On becoming king he founded a city at Bath. There is a pig sculpture in the Parade Gardens to commemorate this.

Homeless people were sleeping on the stone seats under the columns. Part of the gardens were a small cemetery for pets, complete with Latin inscriptions on their gravestones, e.g.: "My Nookie. February 13 1924. Age 14 Years. Sempre Muitas Saudadas." (Now that I've had a chance to look it up I see that means Always many greetings, in Portuguese. I shall refrain from commenting.)

On the other bank, the city is called Bathwick. There's a bridge to this district, crossing the Avon, with shops on it; we walked as far as Laura Place and back.

Bath Abbey, with the Roman Baths (aka Kings and Queens Baths where 18th and 19th century people used to wallow in the warm water) behind it, developed from an 8th century Benedictine monastery, is worth seeing from the inside, with a lovely, fan-vaulted ceiling, some of it built in the 16th century, the same era as Kings College, Cambridge, the rest tastefully copied from that style in the 19th century.We didn't get the full effect because they were renovating the choir end of the Abbey and had it sealed off. At the side of the nave were memorial stones, some carved with touching or tragic stories like this one:

In memory of Lt. Colonel Joseph Maycock who died at the Cape of Good Hope in 1860, aged 41, from the effects of exposure during the Indian mutiny [...] while serving on the staff of Sir Henry Havelock... 

The story sadly continues,

...And in memory of his children Francis William Mellowes, who died at Kurrachee, Scinde, Feby 19th, 1849, aged 1 year, Mabel Ross, who died at sea, May 17th, 1860, aged 15 months, Maud Mary, who died at sea June 14th 1860, aged 3 years and 4 months, Mabel Maud, who died at Merther, Cornwall, November 30th 1860, aged 4 months. This tablet is erected by the afflicted widow and mother.

On Saturday Emma sent us messages to say that she, Peter, Alex and Tom had managed to catch a train to come and spend a few hours with us in Bath; we duly met them at Bath Spa station, shared lunch at a nearby restaurant, the boys very well behaved during the wait for our food, and then we all visited the Roman Baths together. Thomas (aged 7) used an audio-guide: according to his mother, the first time he'd taken a real interest in information from a museum.

Alex, Rob, Thomas, Emma, amused by the Ancient Roman

Imagine discovering a gold-plated head, when you are digging a hole to make a sewer! — that's exactly what happened in 1727. It is the head of the goddess Minerva (her Latin name), the goddess of the hot spring. The Celts who lived here before the Romans had called her Sul, as I mentioned above when speaking of Bladud. The statue to which Minerva's head was once attached must have been very large indeed! As we continued our tour towards the other end of the central bath, an Ancient Roman (an actor, that is) kept us entertained. He showed us "an Apple Tablet" — an ancient slate for writing on, made from apple wood! The boys thought that was very funny.

We didn't go to the modern "Thermae Bath Spa" during our stay in Bath. It would have been a marvellous wallow, but is too expensive, £40 each for two hours. Nor did we ever saw the Victoria Art Gallery, the Assembly Rooms or the Jane Austen Centre. Next time?

Model of the 40ft telescope

On Sunday, after walking to the Royal Crescent, we circled back into town through the pleasant Royal Victoria Park, along a hillside, then visited William and Caroline Herschel's house, now the small but well laid out Herschel Museum of Astronomy. We learned that those famous sibling astronomers, employed as musicians in those days, had lived next door to Lord Nelson. For half a century, the 40 ft (12.9 m) telescope, made by William Herschel in the 1780s and situated in Slough near Windsor, where the King lived, was the biggest telescope in the world. It rotated on its base and had a 48 inch (122 cm) mirror. The observation platform was at the top. We saw a replica of the workshop where Herschel made his own lenses at home; he and his sister spent many hours grinding and polishing them. He discovered what came to be known as the infrared wavelength on the  spectrum of electromagnetic radiation. Caroline was an extraordinary person herself, tiny, only 130cm tall (the museum has a model of her wearing her dress) but with a tough constitution. She had a frustrating childhood in Germany, full of ill health and drudgery, and seems to have been so grateful to escape from it by becoming her brother's housekeeper and general assistant that she utterly dedicated herself to him, although she did complain of being "much hindered in my practice by my help being continually wanted in the execution of [his] various astronomical contrivances." In the early days, she performed the soprano solo part in Handel's Messiah. On her 96th birthday (in 1846), the King of Prussia presented her with a gold medal for her achievements; she lived another two years after that, in Hanover.

Another walk we did with our friends Rob and Sally was along the towpath by the Avon downstream from the railway station, seeing the old warehouses by the river now renovated and converted to other purposes. We followed the river upstream to Bath Deep Lock at Widcombe on the opposite bank, where the Kennet and Avon Canal emerges.