Jane Austen herself reflects

My dearest readers,  

Bath Abbey - the building is as largely it was in my day whilst the people are dressed very differently

Pray, permit me to share my musings as I wander through the streets of modern Bath, a city I once knew so intimately. It has been some 250 years since my birth (how remarkable to be commemorated thus!), and I find myself returned to this Georgian jewel to observe the changes that time, and progress, have wrought upon its genteel façades and bustling inhabitants.  

I dare say, Bath has retained much of her beauty. The grand crescents, those architectural triumphs of symmetry and grace, stand as proud as ever. The Royal Crescent and The Circus, which I admired during my stays here, remain a testament to the timeless elegance of Georgian design. How delighted I am to see them so lovingly preserved! Indeed, I feel as though I might encounter Miss Elizabeth Bennet herself strolling by, her bonnet held just so against the wind.  

The Kings Circus, designed by John Wood The Elder and completed by his son also John Wood (The Younger)

But alas, the streets are filled with such curious modern contraptions! The gentle rumble of carriages has been replaced by motorcars, which are swift but lack the romance of a well-appointed barouche. And what are these infernal devices in the hands of every passerby? They call them "mobile phones," I believe, and they seem to hold the undivided attention of their users. I must admit, I find them a distraction from the charm of human conversation.  

The customs of socialising, too, have transformed. Instead of assembly rooms filled with music and dance, Bath now abounds with coffee shops, where individuals linger over steaming cups, sometimes alone, sometimes in groups, as they engage in lively chatter or gaze at their "screens." I confess, the coffee itself is rather delightful—rich, bold, and invigorating—but the solitude of so many patrons strikes me as strange. Whatever happened to the art of making introductions?  

And the cocktail bars! Oh, how very modern. The names of their concoctions—“Espresso Martini,” “Gin Bramble,” and something called a “Mocktail” for the abstemious—are most amusing. I ventured to sample one (strictly for research, you understand) and found it quite delicious, though I daresay Mr. Darcy would frown upon such frivolity. Or perhaps he would not? How intriguing it would be to meet a modern Mr. Darcy, here in Bath. Would he be seated in a coffee shop, brooding over his latte, or at a cocktail bar, raising an eyebrow as I sip something pink and sparkling?  

The people of Bath remain its greatest spectacle. The modern fashions are strikingly immodest compared to the elegant gowns of my day, yet there is a liveliness to their expressions, a cheerfulness in their manner that I cannot fault. I do wonder what has become of courtship in this era. Do gentlemen still write letters with such eloquence, or do they rely upon those glowing devices for their declarations of love? If I could but find a modern Darcy amidst this whirl of novelty, I might be tempted to discover the answer for myself!  

As I conclude my stroll through these familiar-yet-strange streets, I must commend Bath for her steadfast charm. Though the customs and pace of life have altered, the spirit of the city endures. She remains a place of beauty, of lively society, and of quiet nooks where one might sit to observe and reflect.  

To those who celebrate this 250th year of my birth, I thank you for your kind remembrance. And to all who visit Bath, I urge you to tread her streets with an open heart, for she has much to offer, both old and new.  

Yours most affectionately,  

Jane Austen