The train from London to Bath takes less than 90 minutes—and whisks you 300 years back in time. The UNESCO World Heritage city’s honey-hued crescents and colonnades immediately make you feel as if you’ve stepped onto a period drama set. (Indeed, Bridgerton, three adaptations of Persuasion, and The Duchess were all filmed here.)
Jane Austen lived in Bath from 1801 to 1806, when the town was already losing its sheen as a fashionable spa resort. She didn’t write much during her years there, but the city became her muse: all six novels reference Bath, and two—Northanger Abbey and Persuasion—are set amid its social whirl.
“She definitely was inspired by Bath,” says Gabrielle Malcom, PhD, creative director of events at Strictly Jane Austen Tours and the author of two books about Austen. “The city was known for its social life and as a marriage market. And also as a place where people really did get ruined quite quickly.” Gossip pages relished the spectacle. “It was a bit like the reality television of its day,” Malcom notes, “that kind of schadenfreude that people take in seeing the downfall of people who are fashionable and successful.”
Today, Bath is the epicenter of Austen fandom, with a 10-day Jane Austen Festival each September. This year, from September 12 to 21, expect sold-out promenades, balls, and bonneted fanfare culminating in the world’s largest Regency costume parade. And for her 250th birthday in December, the city is leaning all the way in: exhibitions, dances, and a birthday ball.
The best way to experience Bath through Austen’s eyes? On foot—with a few 21st-century flourishes. Over the summer, I retraced her steps: sipping tea, promenading through pleasure gardens, and climbing the same hills she once walked.
Step into Austenland
A stroll away from her second residence on Gay Street (now a dental office), The Jane Austen Centre offers a playful immersion into her life. Visits begin with a costumed guide before leading into interactive exhibits where fans can don Regency dress, pen a love letter with quill and ink, and pose beside a mannequin Mr. Darcy. It sounds gimmicky until you’re in front of the costume racks—at which point the spirit of Lizzie Bennet tends to win out.
The Centre also organizes September’s Jane Austen Festival. And on December 13, they’ll host a Yuletide Jane Austen Birthday Ball—a costume-required finale to the year’s celebrations.
Take the Waters
The Pump Room was where visitors came to “take the waters”—drinking glasses of mineral-rich spring water, believed to have healing properties. The water was also pumped into hospitals for bathing, Malcom says. In a letter to her sister, Austen describes accompanying her uncle to take his prescribed second glass of the day for his gout. (It was also a place to see and be seen: In Northanger Abbey, Catherine Morland meets her love interest, Henry Tilney, here.)
The Pump Room still offers a dose of theatre. You can sip the same steaming spring water (sulfur-tinged, but not unpleasant) while listening to a pianist and indulging in high tea overlooking the Roman Baths. Then walk a block and trade petticoats for a swimsuit: Thermae Bath Spa’s rooftop pool is one of the few places left in town where you can still take a dip in water pumped up from the hot springs, with sweeping views of the city’s limestone skyline.
Promenade in a Pleasure Garden
A discreet plaque at 4 Sydney Place marks Austen’s first Bath residence, directly across from Sydney Gardens. (Think: a Regency-era amusement park.) In Austen’s day, the venue hosted fireworks, breakfasts, concerts, and even re-enacted sea battles. It was these gardens, where she could spend several hours by herself, that Austen was happiest in Bath, according to historian Diana White. Being on her own allowed her to think about her writing. She wrote to her sister Cassandra: “It would be very pleasant to be near Sydney Gardens! We might go into the Labyrinth every day.”
Sydney Gardens is England’s last surviving Georgian pleasure garden. It’s since been converted to a public park, with lush, wild, native fauna. The labyrinth is gone, but the leafy grounds are still a respite. I found myself on a shaded bench, watching cricket on the lawn while jotting down notes—imagining Austen doing the same. When thirst struck, I wandered to the Holburne Museum Café (formerly the Sydney Hotel, once the official entrance) for a glass of wine in the sun-dappled courtyard. Bridgerton fans may recognize the museum façade as Lady Danbury’s residence.
The Kennet Avon Canal still cuts through the gardens. Follow it under arched bridges and into neighboring towns, just as Austen once did.
Shopping, Then and Now
Austen’s daily life revolved around Milsom Street, where she shopped for fruit, fabric, and stationery. At No. 43, look up to see the faded sign for a post office and circulating library. “That’s where [Austen] went to get novels,” says Malcom. Catherine Morland, heroine of Northanger Abbey, was also a member.
If she were still around, Austen might like shopping at Persephone Books. This rare bookseller reprints neglected works, mostly by women writers, around the corner from Milsom Street. Malcolm also recommends Topping Company Booksellers, which regularly hosts events with authors like Zadie Smith, Ocean Vuong, and Ian McEwan.
For a sharper view of Austen’s complicated Bath years, head to No. 1 Royal Crescent’s exhibition “The Most Tiresome Place in the World: Jane Austen Bath” (through November). On display: first editions, her letters, and the rare manuscript of her abandoned novel The Watsons. It was in Bath that her parents married, her father died, her family’s finances collapsed, and her aunt was arrested for shoplifting (and later acquitted), notes Malcom. Bath was where she accepted—then rejected—a marriage proposal overnight. The scandals and shallowness of the city honed her famously scathing pen.
A Walk to Beechen Cliff
Austen was, by all accounts, “quite the sturdy walker,” Malcom says. Her favorite trek was up Beechen Cliff, the noble hill overlooking Bath, immortalized in Northanger Abbey.
You can reach the summit via a 10-minute walk up a woodland path, steep steps, or a short drive to Alexandra Park. When I arrived on a drizzly morning, only a handful of others shared the overlook: a tourist couple with a telephoto lens, a woman walking her dog, and an elderly hiker. Below stretched the entire city in its limestone glow, framed by the dark green Avon Valley.
In Austen’s day, pollution would have clouded the view. “You have to also understand how obscured it would be because of all the smoke,” Malcom notes. Now scrubbed to its golden brilliance, Bath lay gleaming at my feet. I lingered a moment longer before heading back into town—one more stroll, one more bite, before catching the train to London.