Kentish Gazette Canterbury & District
The legendary tales of Thomas Ingoldsby
Although he has a pub in the city named after him, ‘Thomas Ingoldsby’ never existed, as John Nurden explains...
Thomas Ingoldsby was the pen name of a vicar called the Rev Richard Harris Barham. Amateur history expert Roger Betts, who helps run Minster Abbey Gatehouse Museum, says Barham was born in on December 6, 1788, at 61 Burgate, Canterbury. “His father, also called Richard Harris, was a magistrate and known to have been rather rotund, reputedly over 20 stones,” said Mr Betts. “Nevertheless, he managed a relationship with his housekeeper and the outcome was Richard junior.” Sadly Richard senior died when the young Richard was only seven so he was sent off to boarding school at St Paul’s Cathedral.
With this academic background, and his father’s family wealth, he had no problem entering Oxford University in 1802 to study law and attained a BA despite throwing himself into a rather wild student existence which included a lot of drink and a great deal of gambling. Mr Betts said: “As the
Barham family wealth was tied up in land, and with gambling debts growing at an alarming rate, Richard turned to family friend Lord Rokebury for assistance. “Lord Rokebury refused to pay Richard’s debts but magnanimously gave him the money for him to pay the debts off himself.
“This act of generosity made a big impression on Richard and made him tone down his wild student lifestyle.”
In 1813 after a bad bout of illness, coupled with the death of his mother, Richard made up his mind to totally re-evaluate his life and as a result gave up law and turned to the ministry. Richard was ordained in 1817 and became the curate of Warehorne on Romney Marsh. The area at that time was known to be popular with smugglers. It was considered shady but necessary so residents learned to “turn one’s back while the gentlemen went by”. Which is how we understand illicit contraband ended up in the church belfry. Richard’s mode of transport was a pony and trap or ‘gig’ as it was known.
One day on his travels he had an accident and broke his leg. So to cope with the boredom of inactivity he turned his mind to writing.
Old school friend Richard Bentley had started a publishing business and needed writers so the budding author decided to help his former chum out.
During discussions with friends he was introduced to a Mrs Hughes who was an intelligent and quick-witted lady and the pair soon became friends.
During one of their chats Richard confided that although he didn’t lack imagination he wasn’t very good at thinking up original story lines.
He told her: “Give me a story and I can tell it in my own way. But I cannot invent one.” She suggested he begin by putting Kent’s own stories and folklore to paper.
Mr Betts said: “Barham was worried his church elders would frown upon his forays into the world of literature so, to be on the safe side, he plumped on the name of Tom Ingoldsby.
“His first story, The Spectre of Tappington Hall based on his own family home, was sent to Bentley who by then was producing a periodical called Bentley’s Miscellany. He had already picked one young writer to be his editor called Charles Dickens.”
Tom Ingoldsby’s stories grew in popularity and people were keen to know more about the writer. But Dickens kept the
mystery alive by insisting he didn’t know who Ingoldsby was. Eventually, the stories were all bound together under one title The Ingoldsby Legends.
The legends include the Grey Dolphin; The Nurse’s Story: the Hand of Glory; Patty Morgan the Milkmaid’s Story: Look at the Clock!; The Ghost; The Leech of Folkestone: Mrs Botherby’s Story; The Legend of Hamilton Tighe; The Witches’ Frolic; Nell Cook: a legend of the Dark Entry - the King’s Scholar’s story; Aunt Fanny: a legend of a shirt and Misadventures at Margate: a legend of Jarvis’s Jetty. Richard Barham died following a long illness on June 17, 1845. A memorial bronze was unveiled in his honour by the Dean of St Paul’s at the Guildhall, Canterbury, on September 25, 1930.
During the Second World War Barham’s first home at 61 Burgate Street was hit by a German bomb. The building which replaced it has a plaque to Barham’s memory on its front - and opposite is a Wetherspoon pub appropriately named the Thomas Ingoldsby.
‘Give me a story and I can tell it in my own way. But I cannot invent one’