Goes to Ireland - Bray to Dublin Great British Railway Journeys

In 1840, one man transformed travel in Britain and Ireland.

His name was George Bradshaw

and his railway guides inspired the Victorians to take to the tracks.

Stop by stop, he told them where to travel, what to see and where to stay.

Now, 170 years later, I'm making a series of journeys

across the length and breadth of these islands

to see what of Bradshaw's world remains.

My trusty Bradshaw's Guide has already led me

on delightful journeys throughout England, Scotland and Wales.

But now for the first time, I've crossed the Irish sea,

for when Bradshaw's descriptive railway handbook

of Great Britain and Ireland was published in the 1860s,

Britain and Ireland were a single state.

And now I'm set to explore a whole new island of railway stories.

On this leg, I'll be exploring a daring feat of engineering,

built by the father of Irish railways...

So now I see the first of these remarkable tunnels ahead.

We're going to plunge straight through the rock.

..visiting a Victorian prison that played host to railway criminals...

There was a child here of nine years of age

for playing marbles on a train and annoying passengers.

..and hearing how even animals embraced train travel

in the age of steam...

The giraffe was far too tall in its cart to get under each bridge,

so they created a padded sliding roof and as it approached each bridge,

the sliding roof gently closed.

This long journey begins near Dublin,

where this island's railways were born,

then follows their expansion northwards.

Crossing into Northern Ireland,

I'll then explore Belfast's industrial heritage

before experiencing the stunning coast,

finishing up in Derry/Londonderry.

This stretch covers 17 miles,

passing through the rocky outcrop of Bray Head on my way to Dublin

where I'll explore railways that radiate from the city.

I'm starting on a breathtaking line

that skirts the east coast between Wicklow and Dublin.

I'm looking forward to seeing both the Republic and Northern Ireland

through the eyes of a 19th century travel writer.

My Bradshaw's is enthusiastic about the landscape,

saying that "particularly on the sea coast,

"it assumes a splendid variety of scenery,

"not to be surpassed in any part of the island.

"The mountains and rocky elevations are here magnificently bold

"and Brae Head itself commands an extensive view."

But this dramatic topography

presented a formidable challenge to the railway builder.

This line was built to connect Dublin

with the ports on the east coast,

but the proposed route meant traversing the rocky headland of Bray Head,

near the Wicklow mountains.

I'm leaving the train at Greystones station to take a closer look.

I've come to discover more about this beautiful stretch of railway

passing through this infamous terrain

and the remarkable engineer who achieved it.

The best place to get to grips

with the sheer scale of the challenge

is up on the paths that cling to Bray Head's cliffs.

It's where I'm meeting railway historian Brian Mac Aonghusa.

-Hello, Brian.

-Oh, Michael, good morning.

This must be one of the most spectacular pieces of railway line

that I can think of.

I think it is in Ireland. We're very proud of it

because a lot of work went into the building of this.

This hill, called Bray Head, contains Pre-Cambrian rock

and it's one of the hardest rocks to drill through.

And the man who succeeded in doing it

was a very famous builder of Irish railways.

As a matter of fact, he's known as the father of Irish railways, William Dargan.

William Dargan was a self-taught entrepreneur and engineer

who constructed more railway lines in 19th century Ireland

than any other builder.

But he wasn't involved with the Bray Head project at its outset.

When the line was first proposed, it was the English engineer,

Isambard Kingdom Brunel, who took up the gauntlet.

It was designed by Brunel, and Brunel started it in 1847,

but the company could not raise sufficient capital after the famine.

And there was great difficulty in organising men, organising the works.

The great famine began with the failure of the potato harvest in the mid-1840s,

and became so severe that almost an eighth of the population perished.

Making only short visits from England to supervise the works,

and remote from the harsh local realities,

Brunel and his contractor ran into trouble.

By 1848, work had stopped.

But luckily, Ireland's home-grown railway pioneer, William Dargan,

stepped into the breach.

Dargan had achieved great notoriety for his achievements

in building railways all over Ireland by that time.

In the interests of the development of Ireland, the development of the people,

he said he would do it without accepting cash.

He agreed to accept shares or bonds in the company

rather than be paid for the work.

Most unusual for such an astute person.

William Dargan was horrified by the misery wrought by the famine.

He encouraged railway building,

believing that progress offered Ireland the chance of better times.

He recruited the men he wanted and if they were undernourished,

he would pay them one week's wages in advance

and tell them to come back working when they had built up their strength.

Now, this went down extremely well with people.

They admired him for that and also, if people were in distress,

he was inclined to help them with a little cash.

And he became known as "The man with his hand in his pocket."

At Bray head, Dargan continued to work closely with Brunel

and by the mid 1850s had finished the job.

It took 500 men to tunnel through the Pre-Cambrian rock.

But looking at the project today,

one of the tunnels appears to be disused.

That was the original tunnel.

The original tunnel, which when the line was first built by Dargan,

along this stretch of coast.

And he built that tunnel as well as five others between here and Greystones.

And why are they disused now, then?

Because the line had to be moved inland

because of erosion and the collapse of original wooden bridges

which traversed the gorges here.

But after about 60 years, it had to be abandoned,

and a new line had to be bored, as you can see from the other tunnel.

The line has since become known as Brunel's Folly

and it's certainly had its fair share of problems.

These days, high-tech equipment guards against rock falls

and cliff defences have been built to prevent erosion.

Despite all the expense and effort involved,

I'm very glad that the line still follows the same course,

providing passengers with a magnificent view,

which I'm about to see from a fresh perspective.

Now, what I have here is one of my favourite things in the world.

This is a cab pass. This entitles me to ride with the driver.

As long as I don't disturb him too much, of course!

This is one of the intercity trains that ply this line,

and it's whisking me towards Dublin.

It's a very, very smooth ride.

-And you're allowed to go how fast along here?

-60 miles an hour.

60 miles an hour? So even though it's an ancient bit of track,

through very challenging geography and battered by storms,

you can still go at a good speed.

We're allowed 60 up to here

and once we enter the first tunnel, it's 40 miles an hour.

So now I see the first of these remarkable tunnels ahead.

We're going to plunge straight through this head of land.

Straight through the rock. Any idea how long this tunnel is, Robbie?

It's about three-quarters of a mile.

Three-quarters of a mile, the first one. Dropping your speed down.

Passing through in one of these modern trains takes just a few seconds,

but digging out this rock with the most rudimentary equipment

must have been an epic task.

So this brief moment of daylight between one tunnel and the next,

this is what I was looking down on before

when I was up there on Bray Head.

And back into the tunnel we go!

HORN BEEPS

What the passenger sees on this railway

is the most stunningly beautiful view of mountain and of sea.

And what I think of is the fantastic engineering achievement

and how this formidable topography had to be dominated

to build this railway line.

I'm now taking a back seat again to continue my journey.

My beautiful intercity train is now entering Dublin

and my Bradshaw's tells me that it's the capital of Ireland

and the second city of the British islands, on the River Liffey.

And Dublin Bay, he says,

"Unfolds one of the finest land and sea prospects ever beheld.

"Rendered extremely picturesque

"by the bays and creeks into which it is broken."

My chief interest in Dublin is as the origin,

the birthplace of the railways in Ireland.

My train terminates at one of the city's fine Victorian stations.

Connolly Station in Dublin. I've been looking forward to seeing this

because I've been told it's a thing of beauty.

The main station opened in 1846,

and is an imposing Italianate building in white granite.

As the railway network rapidly expanded, more capacity was needed,

and this magnificent extension was added in 1876.

And here it is, a glorious structure with beautiful arches

in iron and in brick, and this impressive roof of glass.

A station worthy of a capital city.

I'm now exploring Dublin with the help of my 19th century guide.

It tells me,

"The appearance of Dublin is very much improved of late years.

"Streets have been widened, new squares skilfully laid out

"and many public monuments freed from buildings

"which concealed their beauties."

But amid that apparent prosperity there was also deprivation.

Huge numbers of people arrived in the city fleeing the famine.

And levels of poverty were among the worst in Europe.

My Bradshaw's Guide holds a clue to the social problems that ensued.

I am often surprised by the places that Bradshaw's mentions

as being of possible interest to the tourist.

Here in Dublin, of course, it mentions bridges and churches

and fine public buildings, but also Kilmainham Jail.

Crime and punishment were much debated in 19th-century society

and when my guide book was published,

this prison had just been transformed

to bring it into line with Victorian penal philosophy.

I'm taking a tour with expert Niall Bergin.

-Michael.

-Good to see you.

-Welcome to Kilmainham Jail.

-A kind of chilling place I find it, actually.

-A very impressive space.

-What's the history?

The jail dates back to 1796,

when it opened as the new county jail for Dublin

and it closed in 1924, some incredible history here.

Interestingly, as the building stands today, just two wings,

the west wing and the east wing which we are in at the moment,

which is a late addition,

classic Victorian and dates to the 1861, 1862 period.

As cities rapidly expanded in the 19th century, crime soared.

But modern thinkers regarded punishments like transportation

and execution - except for murder - as barbaric.

The answer - to expand the number of prisons.

And between 1842 and 1877, 90 were built or extended.

Why did the Victorians build it in this shape?

This is the classic panoptic design.

It is an all-seeing eye and it comes from the Greek "panopticon".

When the prison staff were here, they could virtually see all the cells.

It is all about observation and surveillance.

Also the Victorians were great believers in the healing power of light,

and all Victorian prisons, be it in London,

Britain or Ireland, all have massive canopy skylights.

They contradict themselves in a sense,

because punishment was all about denying them light,

and all the punishment cells are right below us.

What sort of crimes were people here for?

I found a number of instances of railway connected crime,

so things like not paying their fare

or travelling on a train without proper tickets.

There is a brilliant incident of a gentleman travelling on a buffer

and he got two weeks' imprisonment for his crime.

There was a child here of nine years of age

for playing marbles on a train and annoying passengers.

Really interesting stuff.

The Victorian east wing provided the jail

with an additional 96 cells of 9ft by 6ft each.

Visiting today,

I am trying to imagine what life was like for the prisoners.

So here we come across an open Victorian cell.

How many prisoners were meant to be in here?

All cells are for one person, but very rarely did that happen.

There are records of up to two, three, four people per room.

Prisoners could have spent up to 22 hours per day in these cells

without running water or toilets,

leaving only for exercise or hard labour.

This actually is a photograph of a typical cell.

You can see the bed, something like a wooden board, a mattress,

but during the day it was placed against a wall,

just for more room for the prisoner to move around.

Also the rules and regulations are up there for the prisoner here.

You can see the vents to let air in. Table and chair. Very basic.

A chamber pot. Very, very basic.

The windows are very highly placed

so the prisoners are looking up towards heaven.

The whole redemption thing again.

It's a fascinating insight into Victorian penal practice.

But Kilmainham Jail is remembered today

for its role in the story of Irish nationalism.

Rebels against British rule were imprisoned here

throughout the jail's life.

But it was a 20th-century event

that secured its place in Irish history.

This yard, this space,

this is the scene where the leaders of the 1916 uprising were executed.

So this is the Easter Rising, this is where there's a huge rebellion,

they seized many government buildings.

Obviously the rebellion failed

and that failure led to the executions of 14...

Well, actually, 16 men were executed,

but 14 in Kilmainham Jail by firing squad.

As you look around the yard, you see the crosses at either end,

and the crosses are marking the spots where the men were shot.

During the rising, some 1,600 rebels

held Dublin city centre for six days.

Around 450 people were killed, many of them civilians.

At first, public opinion was largely hostile to the rebels.

But the crackdown that followed

created sympathy for the Republican cause.

These days the Easter Rising is seen as a turning point

in the history of Irish nationalism.

Kilmainham is one of the busiest heritage sites in Ireland today,

and if we were to ask even the visitors today,

"Why are you here, what do you want to know?"

They want to learn about the political history of Ireland

and see the spot where these men were executed.

Now it's back to Connolly Station.

Because I'm in search of a bed for the night,

and I've a rather special hotel in mind.

It's just outside Dublin, in the coastal resort

of Dun Loaghaire, or Dunleary.

And to get there I am taking a service

known to Dubliners as the Dart.

On my travels I've often found that the earliest railways

were built for freight, not for passengers,

but that's not true of this particular line.

I'm travelling along tracks that were laid in 1834 by William Dargan

specifically for commuters.

In fact the Irish claim it is the world's oldest commuter railway.

It's still doing the same job today as it was in the 1830s,

and today it is part of the Dublin area rapid transit.

To my excitement,

this was also 19th-century Ireland's first railway.

The route was chosen because a smart new harbour

had been built at Dunleary, making it a fashionable place to live.

Wealthy Dublin businessmen soon embraced the commute,

which thousands of people still make each day.

-How are you?

-Hello, Michael.

-Have you heard of William Dargan?

Yes, I have.

-Who was he?

-I don't know, but I've heard the name.

He was the engineer who built this railway line.

Look how beautiful it is here. Isn't that fantastic?

Have you been on this railway before?

No, I've never been on this railway.

Is it mentioned in your trusty guide?

Absolutely, it's mentioned my trusty guide.

But this is supposedly the first commuter railway in the world,

opened in 1834.

5,000 passengers on the first day. Isn't that a thought?

-Well, I hope you have a wonderful time.

-Thank you.

-Goodbye.

-Enjoy your trip.

So, Dunleary.

The last thing I saw from the train as I came into the station

was the harbour, right by the waterside, a beautiful spot.

Luckily for me, Dunleary's 19th-century gentrification

included the building of a luxurious new hotel.

And on the first day of my Irish railway journey I've developed

an intense admiration for William Dargan.

He wasn't just a railway engineer.

He was also in the business of supplying hotels.

And so for my first night in the Republic,

I've decided to stay in one of his finest.

The Royal Marine Hotel, built between 1863 and 1865,

even played host to Queen Victoria herself.

A fitting spot for me and my Bradshaw's Guide to pass the night.

Day two of my journey, and it's back on the Dart for me

to take a fuller look at the Irish capital.

From Dunleary I'm headed once more to the heart of Dublin,

a city of which I have many memories,

and of which I'm very fond.

And I shall be exploring it using my Bradshaw's and the tips it gives me,

starting with this handy map of the city from the mid-1860s.

It's wonderful to have my Victorian map,

but when it comes to Dublin, it's of limited use.

Although the layout of the city has not changed too much,

many of the street names have,

reflecting Ireland's turbulent history.

Bradshaw's greatly admired what was Sackville Street, with its monument,

splendid hotels and the column erected in honour of Horatio Nelson.

But in this building here, the Post Office,

the Easter Rising of 1916 reached its climax and the column of Nelson

was blown up in 1966, and a spire erected in its place.

And this is now O'Connell Street,

so whilst the generous proportions of this boulevard have not altered,

the names commemorated here have changed completely.

The spire's official name is the Monument of Light.

Made of stainless steel, it reaches 120 metres into the sky.

-How are you?

-Very well. May I ask, are you from Dublin?

-I'm from Cork.

-And you're visiting today?

-No, I live here now.

-This spire, what do you think of that?

-Opinion is divided about this.

Some people feel it wasn't the best use of resources,

but it is actually astonishing to look at.

There's no doubt it has a magnetic pull about it. It's beautiful.

-So you might be one of its fans, I think.

-I wouldn't go that far.

But yes, it is nice to look at.

To reach my last stop on this leg of the journey,

I'm using another feature of modern Dublin, the tram.

-MACHINE:

-Please select a ticket type.

'The Luas light rail system opened in 2004,

'and carries 80,000 passengers per day around the city.'

I do love trams, they add such personality to cities.

I'm so sorry that so many British cities have lost theirs.

But I'm pleased too that some of them have got them back.

These ones in Dublin are really smart and new.

Dublin got its first tramway in the 1870s, initially horse-drawn,

but later using electrical power.

That original system was phased out in the 1940s,

and now the city is proud of its new network.

Hello. Well, it is. It is my first time on the tram.

-Do you use it much yourself?

-Only when I'm visiting my sister.

Don't you think there is something more romantic about a tram

than a bus?

-It's very modern. Not like the old trams.

-They were good, weren't they?

You preferred the old trams to these lovely modern ones?

-Why would you do that?

-Well, I'm old-fashioned.

Tell me about the old ones. What were the sounds?

-Did it have a bell?

-Yes, it would go "Ding!"

I've left the tram at Heuston Station,

built in 1846 and recently restored.

It's one of three main line stations in Dublin

which in Bradshaw's day became the transport hub

for the whole of Ireland.

Soon the trains were bringing visitors to a famous park

for a new and educational experience.

My Bradshaw's tells me that Dublin's famous Phoenix Park

is seven miles around and contains barracks and zoological gardens.

Today, Dublin Zoo is one of the city's most popular attractions.

And in the early days, the railways helped to get it started.

I'm meeting zoo archivist Catherine de Courcy to hear the story.

I believe Dublin Zoo dates all the way back to 1831.

-Was Dublin in the vanguard of zoological gardens?

-It was.

London Zoo was opened in 1828, and that was really the first

purpose-built zoo, and a lot of the modern zoos

were modelled on London Zoo.

The Dublin people, in 1830, founded a society specifically

to create a zoo like London Zoo in Dublin.

These early zoos weren't for entertainment,

but for serious study.

The Victorians were fascinated by the natural world,

and seeing exotic animals in the flesh was superior

to reading about them in books.

London Zoo was happy to spread the movement to Dublin,

and sent a batch of animals to help the new zoo on its way.

When we talk about animals being sent to Dublin Zoo,

I've never thought about it, but how did they make the journey?

They arrived in a variety of different ways.

Many of the more exotic animals through the 19th century

would have arrived by ship, directly from Liverpool.

A lot of animals sent by people from Ireland came by train to Dublin.

And they often travelled free of charge

in the care of the train staff.

For example, in the 1880s, a Reverend Brett sent us

a crocodile from Wexford and somebody sent us a macaque monkey from Sligo.

I think if I was a ticket collector and came across a crocodile

on the train I probably wouldn't seek to extract the fare.

Now, these tall fellows behind us, I don't think they travelled by train.

We did receive one that came on a long train journey

to Dublin Zoo in 1902.

We were given a present of a fully-grown giraffe by an Irishman

living in the Sudan.

It went on a train to Cairo and had to go under six bridges.

The giraffe was far too tall in its car to get under each bridge,

so they created a sliding roof, and as it approached each bridge

the sliding roof gently closed and the giraffe's head dropped down.

It went under the bridge,

and the roof was opened again and he had air once more.

When zoos were first founded, they were private societies,

aimed squarely at wealthy amateur naturalists.

But while London Zoo remained exclusive until 1847,

Dublin offered public entrance for sixpence right from the start.

Then, in 1840, the zoo launched penny tickets on Sundays.

During the 19th century

when the masses could come here quite cheaply,

I would love to think they came by train. Did they?

Initially, it was largely for Dubliners.

It was a local facility,

but then we see, in the 1870s and 1880s particularly,

a whole movement of people coming to Dublin for a day out,

for a brief period, excursionists, tourists, to come to the zoo,

and that was clearly evident in the fact that the zoo,

which had no money, put a lot of money into advertising.

And in the 1870s they would place every year, for a number of years,

framed advertisements with lions and tigers

in 20 railway stations around the country.

It was no coincidence that lions

were chosen as the zoo's poster boys.

In the 19th century, Dublin's lions were renowned,

as might be judged from the grand former lion house.

Our lions were so famous that American visitors were known

to disembark in Cork on the way through to Europe

and come up by train, by the Great Southern Railway, up to Dublin

specifically to visit our lions.

American tourists were mostly headed for London or Liverpool,

so stopping in Dublin was quite a detour.

One especially big beast even attracted VIPs.

In 1878, the zoo's secretary, Samuel Horton,

showed the lions, including a huge one called Charlie,

to former US President Ulysses S Grant.

He lit up a cigar and contemplated Charlie, the extra-large lion,

and at that point Horton decided to break the ice a bit

and told the President that, in fact, the lions had been

responsible for a 2% rise in the value

of the Great Southern Railway,

specifically because American tourists

came to Dublin to have a look at our famous lions.

Travelling with my guide book is always full of surprises.

But I never thought that a trip to the zoo would uncover

quite so much railway history.

What a joy it's been for me to revisit Dublin's fair city.

And I'm delighted to discover that two characters helped

the development of railways in Ireland,

to whom train passengers should give thanks -

the engineer, William Dargan, and a lion called Charlie.

On the next stretch of my journey I'll be discovering

an industrial railway built on inhospitable bogs...

What scale of rail operation do you have here?

Well, in total, we have 600 kilometres of permanent rail line.

..admiring a marvel of Victorian railway engineering...

Brendan, it's certainly worth seeing the viaduct from here, isn't it?

It soars above the town and is a wonderful combination

of iron and stone.

..and unearthing extraordinary underground secrets.

-So now we're at the sharp end.

-Yes, this is where it all happens.

Just mind your footing. Just follow me is probably the best thing.

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