Richmond County GA Communities
Bath

BATH, GA
Summer retreat for Augustans
By Leslie Nelson

Malaria was the summertime curse of the South just a short time back - say 60 years ago.  Since the average man couldn't afford a fast train north to escape the mosquito that sent him to bed with chills and fever, he had to roll with the punches - even if they got the best of him.  But Augustans were luckier than most when it came to malaria.  The first sign of summer sent them scurrying south away from the threat of the "three-day chill and fever.  They didn't have to go far.  In fact, they didn't have to leave the county. In their high hats and swishing skirts they hightailed it 15 miles down the road, took a right at the sign and they were safe in the village of Bath.  A short walk down a dusty road took them to the bathhouse built around a pool fed by pure spring water, reputed to be a cure-all. There the women, decked out in bloomer bathing suits, perfected their dog paddle, and the men - separately, of course - swam "au naturel."

Years before - no one knows exactly when - Bath was a refuge for William Whitehead's descendants who left Burke County to escape the scourge of the malarial mosquito.  They set up housekeeping on the sandy hills of Bath and harnessed the pure water.  Soon other wealthy planters were lured to the village where they built elegant summer homes - 18 in all - in the colonial style.  Entertaining for days on end, these "agricultural aristocrats" transformed Bath into a social center where houseguest sometimes numbered in the thirties.  When the need arose for a church, they hired Pennsylvania craftsmen to erect a simple frame building.  Bath Presbyterian Church, at the bend in the road.  Behind the church they buried their dead, often marking the graves with ornate headstones, By the turn of the century, shrewd businessmen, enticed by the prospect of making a dollar, set their sights on Bath.  An ad in the Augusta Herald in the summer of 1812 announced that "A convenient four wheel carriage will start from the City Hotel at 3 p.m. every Friday and Saturday for Richmond Bath, and return every Monday and Friday, the fare being $1.25 each way."

When the promoters of the Georgia Railroad to Atlanta suggested a route running by Bath, old-time residents put up a fight and the track ran elsewhere.  Members of the peaceful community wanted no part of the smoke and snort of the iron horse.   Talk about Bath today and only the old-timers remember the high-class swimming hole.  The grand plantations have long since yielded to fire, and the curious must look closely for rows of trees and open fields where the houses once stood.  Freshly painted and still standing like a sentinel at the bend in the road is the Presbyterian Church, boasting a sign that the
building was constructed in 1784, an indication that the settlers of Bath arrived some years before.  Inside, a slave gallery looks down on the original pews now painted white and sporting fancy red cushions.  There is an old story that one of the early ministers of the church officiated at a lavish wedding ceremony uniting two slaves - Maria and Henry - in matrimony.  Although not held in the church, the event caused a flurry of excitement when Maria's mistress ordered a costly wedding supper, brought numerous gifts and invited all the servants in the neighborhood. 

And then there was the Rev. Frank B. Goulding who delivered sermons from the church's pulpit for eight years.  With the strange combination of literary and mechanical talents, the Rev. Goulding just missed making Bath an historical shrine - just barley.  Story has it that the minister, in addition to having written several books, also invented the sewing machine.  But, alas, fate stood in his way, and Elias Howe beat him to the patent office.  On his way to Washington in the 1840s with his newfangled machine, the Rev. Goulding ran into bad weather.  Washed-out roads and floods were too much for his gig which broke down halfway.  Finally making it to Washington, the minister was unable to negotiate the patent because he'd spent nearly all his funds repairing the waterlogged gig.  A persistent man, the Rev. Goulding returned during fairer weather, only to learn that Howe had beaten him to the patent office by only three days.
    Heartbroken, the pastor returned to Bath and wrote "The Young Marooners," an adventure story that became his best known book.  But even from the beginning, residents of Bath, especially the women, were suspicious of the minister's invention.  To end their unkind snickers, the Rev. Goulding generously volunteered to make a dress for any woman in the community who would put up the material.  Besides being a scandalous offer, satin and taffeta were
expensive and the womenfolk, afraid to take a chance, politely declined.     No one, not even his wife, wanted to risk precious material to prove that the Rev. Goulding's machine was not just the contrivance of a dreamer - even if he was the minister. In desperation, the Rev. Goulding whipped up a homespun garment for one of his servants. The dress, of course, was a success, but the minister died in obscurity in Roswell in 1881. 

The Presbyterian Church, however, is not the only existing remnant of bygone days.  Not far from the entrance to Bath off U. S. 1 is the summer home of Alonzo Boardman, who remembers that as a boy his parents often packed him off to Bath in the summer to escape the wrath of the malarial mosquito.     Boardman, an Augustan now retired, brought the house and surrounding land 10 years ago and restored the little cottage, probably slave quarters before the nearby plantation burned years age.  He painted the house a sunny yellow and planted the rolling hills with dogwood, juniper and azaleas.  Recalling the cool spring he swam in as a youth, Boardman channeled the precarious waters into pools and added a lodge in the valley for guest.  A few steps down the road is the one-time residence of Miss Rosa Green, who managed a tearoom at the turn of the century. "Miss Rosa" was often hostess to such drop-in guest as John D. Rockerfeller and President Taft, who wintered at the old Bon - Air Hotel in Augusta.  Now the residence of Maj. (Ret.) Robert E. Galloway and his family, the two story house with it's winding staircase and eight fireplaces is said to have been built in the 18th century.  But Bath has seen it's heyday.  The malarial mosquito is practically extinct, sunbathers have discovered Florida and the bathhouse is tumbling down.  Nowadays only a few daffodils leftover from grander times return year after year.