Fenchurch to Embankment Great British Railway Journeys

In 1840, one man transformed travel in Britain.

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 the country

to see what of Bradshaw's Britain remains.

I'm now completing my journey from north Norfolk to the heart of London.

My Bradshaw's enthuses that "the sight of our gigantic metropolis is

"the very best that could have been selected for commercial purposes, as it enabled us,

"by means of the Thames, to carry on a water communication with every part of the globe,

"and not even the development of the railway system in England

"has lessened this advantage."

And it might have added

that we also created the greatest financial centre that the world had ever seen.

On my final leg of this journey,

I'll be taking a ride on a secret miniature railway.

Wow.

I'll never complain about The Tube again, this is quite small, isn't it?

Tolling alongside the good burghers of Bow.

Try not to look up, you will get dust in your eyes.

And confusing hapless commuters at Fenchurch Street.

Westcliffe.

'Thorpe Bay and Shoeburyness.'

Oh, I left out the time at the beginning, didn't I? I left out the time.

Starting on the east coast,

this journey has taken me through Norfolk, Suffolk and Essex

on the Great Eastern Railway

which, in Bradshaw's day, opened up

difficult terrain and allowed trade to flourish.

Now, I am headed to the very centre of money itself, the City of London.

My last stretch begins in the east of the city, at Fenchurch Street,

and takes me along the north bank of the Thames,

ending on The Embankment.

The development of our railway system required not only engineers,

but also entrepreneurs, men willing to invest their own money

and, more importantly, to persuade others also to risk their shirts.

I'm arriving at Fenchurch Street, the smallest of the great London city terminals.

Initially constructed in 1841, to bring city workers to the financial heart of London,

it was the first station built inside the City of London.

As the numbers commuting into the city increased vastly in Victorian times,

it was also used by the Great Eastern Railway

as an overflow terminus for Liverpool Street.

From here, I am taking the District line underground, one stop to Monument,

to the heart of the financial district.

It is difficult to believe that

when the District line was first built, it used steam locomotives.

Imagine them belching smoke underground.

Ever since it was built, in 1868, it's been distributing commuters to the counting houses of the city.

Now, the District line carries 700,000 passengers a day.

I've often used the District line to travel from the political centre in the west

to the financial centre in the east, but whether there's more power in Westminster

or in the city, I leave it to you to judge.

'The next station is Monument.'

In the 1800s, the financial heartland of the city witnessed a dramatic boom and bust.

In the huge surge in railway construction, some made fortunes,

but others lost all they had in a flurry of speculation dubbed "railway mania."

My destination is the Royal Exchange,

founded back in 1565 as a centre of commerce for the city,

where I hope to discover more from Professor David Kynaston.

The magnificent Royal Exchange building which, apparently,

in Bradshaw's time, had been newly rebuilt.

Yes, that's right.

The old Royal Exchange was burned down in 1838

and this went up six years later.

A very striking, handsome building

in the city that was still relatively small-scale,

no high rise, this was a major building.

Give me an impression of the mid-19th-century city.

A fantastically bustling place, vigorous place,

fortunes being made, fortunes being lost.

And of global importance?

Absolutely, poised by the mid-19th century, to become, arguably,

the world's most important financial and commercial centre

the world perhaps has ever seen.

While the Royal Exchange concentrated on trading goods,

the temple to speculation, the Stock Exchange, dealt in financial stocks and shares,

providing oxygen and fire for the railways' boom.

And on the Stock Exchange in the mid-19th century,

the most important share issues are railways.

Absolutely, it was astonishing, the railway mania of the 1840s.

Up to that point, the stock market had really grown out of British government securities.

1840, for the railway mania, was something quite different

and, of course, established a permanent railway market in the Stock Exchange.

No fewer than 240 Parliamentary bills to set up new railway companies and routes

were proposed in 1845 alone.

Railways were promoted as a foolproof way to make money

and almost everyone who could rushed in.

As shares in the pioneer companies soared, ever more speculators poured in their money.

Give me an idea of who got caught up in this...what you call mania.

All sorts of people, people of eminent respectability,

curates, widows, and so on.

Even the Bronte sisters got caught up a little bit in it.

Many railway lines were built and the public, for a time, did well out of it.

But also, many fraudulent railway companies were launched on an unsuspecting public.

Just as with the dotcom boom of the 1990s, inevitably,

there was a price to pay.

Many of the railways were never built,

as the impracticality of proposed routes became clear

and companies collapsed, taking many families' life savings with them.

How bad was the crash, when it came?

It was a pretty bad crash and it affected the big operators,

the big players, as well as the small people.

And there was a herd instinct at play, which is often so powerful in markets

and, arguably, in society generally.

And that, I think, is what happened. And left an amazing legacy.

I mean, money was lost, of course, through ill-advised speculation,

but the permanent legacy was the Victorian railway infrastructure.

The Victorian railway mania and subsequent boom and bust

were clearly disastrous for some.

But had there not been such investment,

we wouldn't have the astonishing railway system that exists today.

And in the heart of the city, surrounded by the huge financial institutions of our age,

the Stock Exchange, the Bank Of England,

I've often wondered, what place morality?

So, where better to go than to that beacon of spirituality,

the most famous church serving the commercial district?

I am now headed for what my Bradshaw's describes as

"one of the masterpieces of Sir Christopher Wren."

St Mary-le-Bow church, which is esteemed to be situated in the heart of the City of London,

and all persons born within the sound of its bells are vulgarly designated Cockneys.

Now, I was born about 15 miles away,

too far to hear those bells.

Bradshaw seems rather shocked that anyone should have the misfortune to be termed a Cockney,

but I wonder whether, in the 21st century,

anyone knows what defines a Cockney.

-Are you a Cockney?

-I'm not a Cockney, I'm sorry.

Do you know what the definition of a Cockney is?

I believe born within a mile of the sound of Bow Bells.

-And do you know where Bow Bells are?

-In the East End of London somewhere.

-Ha!

-Really?

-They are here.

-OK.

I've just made a fool of myself in front of people with a camera.

-No, no, you didn't make a fool of yourself.

-Excellent.

-Excuse me, sir, are you a Cockney?

-Yes, Cockney, yes.

You are, great. So, what is the definition of a Cockney?

Born within the Bow Bells.

Yeah, within the sound of Bow Bells.

-I was born just up the road, City Road.

-Wow.

-So I was in the mile, yeah.

-Are you proud to be a Cockney?

-Oh, yeah.

Are you still a kind of fraternity of Cockneys,

do you still kind of recognise each other?

Yeah, there's still a few of us about.

And what about the rhyming slang, as well, do you ever use that?

Yeah, a monkey is 500 quid, a pony is 25 quid, a cock and hen is a tenner.

And what about apple and stairs?

Apple and pears, up the stairs. Frog and toad, all sorts.

Is St Mary-le-Bow special for Cockneys?

-I don't think many people actually know where it is.

-Yes.

Most people seem to think if you're born within the sound of Bow Bells,

it's literally in East London.

It's actually in Cheapside, so, a lot of people get a bit mixed up

seeing the East Enders and Cockneys, but really, it's like North London.

Today, St Mary-le-Bow is the parish church of the city.

People who work in the financial district come to worship in their lunch hour

and services are held during the week, and not at weekends,

to meet the demands of the business community.

The Rev George Bush is the rector. Father George.

Good to see you.

Good to be here at St Mary-le-Bow,

I suppose one of London's most famous churches.

Indeed, yes, there's been a church on this site since 1080.

It was built at the command of the Conqueror's Archbishop to impress,

probably on the Saxons who were living around,

that not only the King was here to stay, but the Norman church was as well.

And that was the church that was destroyed in the Great Fire Of London?

That was the church destroyed then, yes.

According to my Bradshaw's,

this church was rebuilt by Sir Christopher Wren.

Yes, after the fire, the tower of St Mary-le-Bow was

Christopher Wren's second most ambitious project,

and second most expensive project after St Paul's Cathedral.

Bow Bells are probably the most famous in the world

and, for hundreds of years, have been woven into the folklore of the City of London.

Legend has it that they called Dick Whittington back to London to become Lord Mayor.

They were also rung from the 14th century onwards

at nine each evening,

marking the end of an apprentice's working day.

Because it was in the centre of the city, that sounding of the bell

was then taken up at the gates and it became, as it were,

a sort of curfew bell and the gates were closed.

Not to you and me coming and going, but to traffic coming through,

providing a measure of quietude and a measure of peace at night.

What happened to the church in World War II?

The very last night of the Blitz,

which was also the worst night of the Blitz for the City of London,

10th May 1941,

the church was almost completely destroyed by incendiary devices.

There was nothing other than these four walls of this current building here.

The tower became a furnace, and after the war, the church had to be taken down in stages

and then it was rebuilt in concrete.

Although, of course, the exterior stonework of Wren was then replaced.

So, you see it pretty much as Wren knew it

but, in fact, it's built of something rather more modern.

Were the famous bells destroyed in World War II?

Yes, they came crashing to the ground.

I think some of the bell metal may have been rescued

and may be in some of the bells that are there now.

A recording of the bells, made in 1926, was used throughout the Second World War

on the BBC's World Service,

a sound of liberty and hope for the people of Europe.

After perishing in the Blitz, the 12 bells were recast at the Whitechapel Bell foundry

and the full peal was rung for the first time in 1961.

BELLS RING

Today, the Bells of Bow are rung frequently

by a group of bell ringers living in or near the city.

The steeple keeper is Simon Meyer.

-Simon, great to see you.

-And you.

BELL TOLLS

Is that the great bell of Bow?

That was the great bell of Bow, yes, they didn't quite all stop at the end.

So, I mean, these bells are relatively new, aren't they?

-They are post-Second World War?

-That's right.

Do they sound as good as the old ones?

Well, the old ones were a very special ring, by Gilletts, and they were 1933.

But they were lost in the war, and they were a very sad ring to lose in the war,

because everyone felt that they were absolutely wonderful bells.

These are very special as well, because they're a modern ring of bells,

they've got the modern tuning and also the metals that we have in the bells.

People understand much more about the right alloys to use.

So, they have got a lovely resonance

and they're a great voice of London.

Novices are rarely allowed to go near these national treasures,

but Simon's very kindly allowed me to participate in a Bow Peal, under his firm guidance.

Pull it straight back down.

Doesn't actually take much pulling.

So, no ritual humiliation.

Try not to look up, you'll get dust in your eyes. It doesn't help.

I feel, Simon, you are doing all the work.

Let me have a go on my own.

OK.

A bit slow that time.

A little bit too slow, yes.

Would you like to have a go with a few people ringing round you?

Oh, what fun, yes.

BELLS RING

-Brilliant.

-Congratulations.

-Gosh, that was fun.

This is not easy, I can tell you.

That is one of those really traditional English sort of folk arts,

but it does take time to get the skill.

When I came up here, I thought, "Why do these people do it?"

Then as soon as I joined in, I found out why you do it.

-It's wonderful teamwork, isn't it?

-It is wonderful.

-Terrific.

Thank you all very much indeed.

I find it strangely comforting to know that despite everything,

wars, railway mania and boom and bust, Bow Bells have consistently proclaimed

the church's presence in the heart of the City of London.

Before I find my bed for the night, I'm popping back to Fenchurch Street

to meet a very special person who has just come on shift.

One of the nice things about Fenchurch Street Station is

that the announcements are made by a human voice, not by an automated system.

And I believe that the lady who does it recently won the MBE,

and I'd like to put the face to the voice.

'Calling at Limehouse, West Ham, Barking, Upminster...'

Thank you very much.

I'm meeting Sue Gibbs, tucked away in her cubby hole just off the concourse.

'..East Tilbury and Stanford-le-Hope.'

Hello, it's Sue, isn't it?

-Hello, it is.

-I'm Michael, how lovely to see you.

-And you.

Do you think that passengers appreciate having a human voice?

I think they do, it's more personal, it's something they're used to every day.

Because the thing with the automated ones is that the tones are always wrong, aren't they?

They are always sort of leaping up and down. "The train now on platform...four!"

-Occasionally, yes.

-But in Bradshaw's day,

there was no Sue and her dulcet tones.

No digital displays, just a simple board

and a bell that was rung five minutes before a train was due to depart.

Quite often, novice travellers were thrown into utter confusion,

and chaos reigned as they ran hell for leather along the platform,

tumbling over everything and everybody,

in their eagerness to catch a train which they believed was about to leave without them.

-Could I have a go?

-Of course you could.

I'd find it really thrilling.

-I will have to put my specs on.

-Of course.

You have to keep your finger on the press-to-talk button after you've done that.

There's a ding dong first.

The next train from platform one...

'is the semi-fast service to Shoeburyness,

'calling at West Ham, Barking, Upminster, Laindon, Basildon,'

Benfleet, Leigh-on-Sea, Chalkwell, Westcliff,

'Southend East, Thorpe Bay and Shoeburyness.'

Ooh, I left out the time at the beginning, didn't I?

-I left out the time.

-No, that's fine.

I'm sure they'd give you a job, if you ever needed one.

Well, I might well, you know!

Hopefully, my announcements haven't befuddled the commuters too much.

And now, after a glorious day,

it's time to head for my hotel right here in the city.

Bradshaw's says that "the metropolis contains the largest mass of human life, arts, science, wealth,

"power and architectural splendour that exists."

Where better to find a hotel than in a wonderful former bank building in Threadneedle Street?

I love the thought that today, I can still walk into the building

that housed the London City and Midland Banks headquarters,

just as the Victorian railway wheelers and dealers would have done in the 19th century.

Manager Julian Payne is waiting to greet me

in this magnificent banking hall.

This was clearly once a bank. When does it date back to?

-It goes back to 1856. It used to be City Bank.

-As in London City Bank?

As in Bank of the City Of London.

And that's replicated in the glass dome which we have up here. CB.

And it is a 120 hand-painted glass panel dome.

What a great survivor, isn't it?

It is, well, it survived two world wars. So, still here.

That's amazing.

Any other signs around the hotel that it was a bank?

-Yes, if you'd like to follow me in the bar, I can show you something else.

-Thank you.

This was the original banking counter, which is now the bar counter.

This was in the main lobby. Beautiful.

I can completely imagine that.

A fine old carved bank counter. I love all the ironwork on your window. What's the story of that?

That was an outstanding creditor to the bank.

He went into administration

and then, to pay off his debts, he donated the cast iron to the bank.

So, we have prepared something very special for you.

I hear you might be partial to a spot of whisky.

So Brian, our head barman, has concocted the Bradshaw cocktail. Enjoy.

-The Bradshaw?

-The Bradshaw.

A cocktail named after George. Cheers, Julian, thank you very much indeed.

Most welcome.

-How is it?

-Wow!

What a fabulous view.

Christopher Wren's gracious masterpiece, St Paul's,

and closer by, my own personal alarm clock.

BELL RINGS

Woken punctually, I'm catching the Central line to Liverpool Street Station,

the magnificent Victorian terminus for the Great Eastern Railway.

Now, I am going to visit a London railway which, as a Londoner,

I've never travelled on.

I've never even seen a photograph of it. It's that mysterious.

In addition to the tube and subterranean mainline services,

London is home to another railway whose existence few even know of.

Deep under the hustle and bustle of London's streets, a unique electric train system

winds inbetween the underground network.

The rail mail,

a secret system of tunnels, railway lines and platforms,

was built by the Post Office for one very special reason,

to deliver the capital's post.

I've been granted access to this private world,

deep in the bowels of the Earth.

It's just like a miniature Tube line, isn't it?

Narrow gauge, but obviously electrified.

It's always a very special moment for me, I must say, walking along an electric railway line.

'Curator of the British Postal Museum and Archive, Chris Taft is my guide.'

What's the history of underground railways and the Post Office?

The origin of the underground railway and the Post Office connection

goes back to the 1860s, to 1861, in fact.

They trialled the idea of using airpower to push,

like a giant peashooter, pushing these cars and rails through tunnels

to move mail between stations.

It did the job they wanted it to do,

it was able to move the mail underground.

It bewilders me that the Victorians devised

such an advanced technology.

Literally to blow and suck trains of post and parcels

through tunnels at a speed of 30 mph.

Despite that astonishing triumph of Victorian engineering,

the Post Office was never enthusiastic and the scheme folded.

But two events coincided which forced the Royal Mail to think again.

The growth in Britain's postal traffic,

a staggering 5.9 billion items annually by the eve of the First World War.

And a need to avoid London's congested streets, where vehicles were moving at just 10mph.

So, work started again,

on a railway system 21 metres below the surface, which opened in 1928.

It ran from East London, from the Eastern District Office, through

to an office and railway station at Paddington in West London.

So 6.5 miles, and there's something like 22 miles of track.

Presumably, it carried a lot of mail?

It did, at its peak, it was operating 22 hours a day, operating every day.

It operated continually throughout the Second World War as well.

So the volumes of mail were huge that were being transported by the network.

Amazingly, this system ran until 2003,

carrying 30,000 mailbags per day at its peak.

It took 26 minutes to travel seven miles under the streets of London,

stopping for a minute at each station.

OK, Michael, I'm going to introduce you to Ray,

one of the engineers.

-Hello.

-Hello, Ray. At last, we come across a train.

Yes, this is one of our 1930s trains.

There are two trains coupled together here.

These can hold four containers of mail,

and there are two DC motors on either end.

Where was the driver?

There was no driver, it was fully automatic, controlled by relays in a room under the platform.

That absolutely amazes me,

that a system introduced in the 1920s had driverless trains.

Very advanced.

It was, it was the first automatic mail railway.

-When did it close?

-It closed in 2003.

Now, that's remarkable, isn't it?

I expect many people don't know this railway exists

and certainly would be surprised to know it was operating until 2003.

It's really quite a secret railway, isn't it?

Yes, it was sort of called, amongst our own people,

one of the best kept secrets of the Royal Mail.

Indeed, I think London's best kept secret, probably.

Many people know about The Tube itself, the classic Tube,

and other railway lines, but not this one.

The advent of the Internet and e-mail sounded the death knell for the mail rail,

as far fewer items are now sent by traditional post.

Now all the mail in London is transported by road.

The majority of the system no longer works, but I have the unique chance to experience,

just for one moment, what it was like to be a parcel on the mail rail.

Wow! I'll never complain about The Tube again.

This is quite small, isn't it?

I keep thinking it's a waste not to use this line.

That it ought to be brought back into service. But, let's face it,

with these dimensions, it's not going to catch on with passengers, is it?

I'm coming to the end of this journey on the Great Eastern Railway

having passed through, and indeed under the City of London,

my last destination is very significant to Bradshaw's,

but not because of a reference in the guide book.

The answer to that riddle lies underneath Cleopatra's Needle,

on the north bank of the Thames.

John Graves, of the Maritime Museum, will reveal all.

I suppose most Londoners don't give it a look,

but it is actually extremely ancient, isn't it?

It's very old, 2400 BC. And although it is called Cleopatra's Needle,

it has nothing to do with Cleopatra at all.

The Obelisk was already 1,000 years old by the time Cleopatra was Queen of Egypt.

I understand when they erected it, they put a time capsule in the base.

I thought that was a 20th-century idea, I didn't realise they did it in the 19th century.

What did they choose to put inside it?

Well, as you can see from that huge plinth up there,

it's a big time capsule

and it includes a set of 12 photographs of the most attractive ladies in England.

There is also a photograph of Queen Victoria and,

of course, there's a copy of Bradshaw's railway guide.

And so nice for me to know that George Bradshaw resides,

in eternity, with the 12 most beautiful women of the age.

A 19th-century guide book has brought me through Norfolk, Suffolk and Essex

to my home city of London and one of my favourite monuments, Cleopatra's Needle.

Here, I find, buried in the plinth,

a copy of Bradshaw's railway guide, because the railways made 19th-century Britain

and they were synonymous with a single name,

the man who compiled the timetables, George Bradshaw.

My next journey starts in Royal Windsor,

then takes me south-west, exploring the beautiful rural counties of Hampshire and Dorset,

on my way to the dramatic Jurassic Coast.

What a view, what a day.

Along the way, I'll be testing a Victorian invention that revolutionised the mail.

Learning why Victorian tourists loved the Isle of Wight.

I have this amazing plunge down to the beach. Whoa!

You have to have a head for heights here.

And admiring a castle catapulted to fame by the railways.

Wow, that is fantastic.

The most romantic ruin.

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd

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