With a Casket and a Curse: George Whitefield and the Town of Bath
The town of Bath, North Carolina is a small, quaint riverside spot steeped in history stretching back before the founding of the United States. In the 1690s this little slice of present day Beaufort County was a place of sanctuary, first being occupied by French Huguenot refugees fleeing Virginia and by 1708 its entire population consisted of fifty people and approximately twelve houses. It is a very humble origin story for a place that over time developed a reputation for its sheer lawlessness.
By the eighteenth-century Bath was a bustling port town catering to hundreds of ships traveling all around the Atlantic and giving them a place to rest, restock, and recharge. Not all of the goings-on were legal, Bath was conveniently located near the many inlets and coves that carve the North Carolina coast and it became a hotbed of activity for pirates who highly appreciated the air of secrecy that enveloped the town. Edward Teach, better known as the infamous Blackbeard, even called Bath home living in the small town after receiving a pardon from the governor. Bath had it all, free-flowing liquor, all-night parties, dancing, and the privacy to do as one pleased. But there was one person who did not want the good time Bath offered and they made it their mission to stomp it out for good.
Map showing the location of Bath, North Carolina. Image via Wikimedia Commons.
In the years before the American Revolution a wave of religious fervor began to sweep through the colonies and one of the superstars of the movement was fanatical evangelist George Whitefield. Ravenous with his message of salvation, Whitefield was not any normal preacher. His arms flailed and his words boomed over the heads of his followers like a dramatic monologue, earning him the reputation of having a voice that could be heard for miles. The drama of his sermons extended beyond his words. Whitefield, cross-eyed and fiery, allegedly traveled from town to town with a casket that he is rumored to have used as a bed, saying it represented that he was ready to accept death and his confidence in his salvation. He was well known in Georgia, New York, and Philadelphia where he was heard by Benjamin Franklin but Whitefield had North Carolina on his mind. He knew it was a godless state that allowed both dancing and drink. He made it his mission to save them.
Portrait of George Whitefield by Joseph Badger circa 1745. Image via wikipedia.com.
Whitefield arrived in the region of Bath in late December 1739 and the reception was immediately as chilly as the weather. The preacher was used to thousands of faces watching him deliver his sermons full of doom, fire, brimstone, and salvation but here he was lucky to find a hundred heads before him. The inhabitants of Bath did not appreciate the venom being spewed from this man condemning everything they took part in. Dancing, drinking, parties, and even their cursing was subject to criticism by the preacher and his message was not welcome. He left Bath and traveled to the surrounding regions, still finding his brand of aggressive religious vitriol unaccepted by the locals. Writing in his journal he lamented that almost ever town had a dancing teacher but not a minister, “In North Carolina there is scarce so much as the Form of Religion. Two Churches were begun for some Time, but neither finish’d. There are several Dancing-masters but scarce one regularly settled Minister.” He left the southern part of the country and headed north, but the thought of the sins of Bath and North Carolina never left him.
Whitefield visited Bath multiple times but in the 1760s he made his last appearance. Aggravated by the minister’s ranting the people of Bath informed him that if he stayed he was going to have a permanent use for the coffin he traveled with. The fanatical minister had had enough. Allegedly Whitefield responded by taking off his shoes, waving them in the air, and shaking the dust off his feet. Then, raising his arms and voice he boomed “I say to the village of Bath, village you shall remain, now and forever, forgotten by men until such time as it pleases God to turn the light of His countenance again upon you.” Then came the words that became infamous, “If a place won't listen to The Word you shake the dust of the town off your feet, and the town shall be cursed. I have put a curse on this town for a hundred years." With this final dramatic declaration he left the town of Bath for the final time.
Some people believe that with enough passion behind them, words can do anything. After cursing the town and leaving Bath with his casket for the final time the inhabitants probably raised a glass in relief and went along with their partying without a second thought. Soon though, people may have started to question the power of Whitefield’s words.
Work entitled Whitfield preaching in Moorfields AD 1743 by Eyre Crowe. Image via victorianweb.org.
The little town of Bath had survived a lot in its short history. Yellow fever, drought, and attacks from Native Americans all came and went leaving Bath still standing on legs strong enough to turn it into the hub of controlled chaos that it became. But then came the town of Washington. Situated on the northern bank of the Pamlico River and only fifteen miles from Bath, seemingly overnight the hustle and bustle of the party town began shifting. Soon Washington became the most prominent local port and the commerce left Bath taking much of its inhabitants and prosperity with it. It is said that Whitefield used Bath as an example, maybe even a warning, saying that he himself finally brought down the sinful town.
Today Bath remains a quiet little hamlet filled with historic sites including North Carolina’s first library, the state’s oldest existing church, and historic markers discussing colonial houses and the residence of Blackbeard. Less discussed is how the picturesque little town was once rife with pirates and how a rabid minister claimed to end the party with a curse.