Chippenham to Gloucester 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 go, what to see,

and where to stay.

And now, 170 years later, I'm aboard for a series of rail adventures

across the United Kingdom

to see what of Bradshaw's Britain remains.

I'm now more than halfway through my journey

from Hampshire to Wolverhampton,

and my serpentine route has brought me out west,

where I can presently enjoy the honey-coloured stones of Wiltshire.

Today I'll be discovering more about technology and engineering advances.

On this leg, I discover the origins of Victorian photography.

Talbot made the world's first photographic negative -

-a shot of this window.

-Well, that is a feeling of history.

I visit Britain's longest rail tunnel

and its worrying water feature.

Torrents of water. That is unbelievable!

And I receive Bristol Zoo's seal of approval.

OK, Michael, if you just want to raise your right hand.

And your left hand.

Hey! Well done!

This journey has taken me from Southampton, through Hampshire,

on to Berkshire and into Wiltshire,

from where I'll head west to Bristol, across the Severn

and through the Cotswolds, to finish in Wolverhampton.

Today's leg takes a snapshot in Chippenham,

heads west to Bristol, crosses over to Wales, and ends in Gloucester.

My first stop will be Chippenham.

Bradshaw's tells me it has two tanneries, a foundry,

and a long bridge on 23 arches, which I fear is no longer there.

In the neighbourhood is Lacock Abbey,

seat of Talbot Esquire, the inventor of photography.

In a flash I see how my journey will develop.

I'm alighting at Chippenham

because there's no station at Lacock.

Before his house and the village he owned were given to the nation,

William Henry Fox Talbot MP, refused Isambard Kingdom Brunel

permission to run his railway through his land.

But the man is better known as the father of photography.

The curator of the Fox Talbot Museum, Roger Watson, knows more.

-Roger.

-Michael, very nice to meet you.

The house is absolutely superb. What's its early history?

It starts out 1232, it was founded as an Augustinian convent.

And remained a convent

until the last year of the dissolution of the abbeys,

when it was sold off to one of Henry VIII's friends, William Sherrington.

In the mid-19th century,

the Fox Talbots owned the house.

And in 1840, Henry,

who had a passion for all things scientific,

invented a much-heralded photographic process,

and I want to know just how significant that discovery was.

Is Talbot properly to be credited with

the invention of photography as my Bradshaw's says?

There are two inventors of photography.

Here in England, Talbot was the inventor,

in France, Daguerre was the inventor,

but actually their processes were somewhat different,

they came from different directions.

I think they both actually deserve credit.

This is the South Gallery.

Here in the middle,

this is the latticed window where photographic history was made.

How?

Talbot made the world's first photographic negative,

a shot of this window.

Well, that is a feeling of history. Using these machines?

Well, we've got a couple of things set up here.

One of them is a camera obscura,

which is the pre-photographic type of camera,

and it's basically just a box with a lens on it.

You can have a look though here.

I'm seeing an image of what is outside, the trees,

I can see the green grass,

but that is just a function of light.

That's not giving me an image that I can keep and take away.

No, it's as fleeting as the light is itself.

What was the vital technology in being able to capture the image?

The vital technology was photochemistry.

Light changes the paper, changes it from white to black,

and that's what's important.

I've got a little camera here.

They were the first basic cameras.

He had them made here by a carpenter in the village.

He would put a piece of sensitised paper in the back...

and he would end up with a nice, little, as he called them,

Lilliputian images, postage-stamp size.

Patented in 1841,

Fox Talbot's innovation was the first negative-positive process

used in photographic development.

Treating paper with light-sensitive silver compounds

and other chemicals allowed, for the first time,

the production of an unlimited number of identical prints

from a single negative.

It's the basic chemistry of photography,

which is that silver nitrate,

when it mixes with sodium chloride, or table salt,

it becomes a very sensitive material.

So that's what we try and use on the paper.

This is the printing frame here, it's a proper 19th century one.

Lift the back off...

And we've got a feather inside, which usually makes a nice picture.

Lay your sensitive paper face-down.

Put the backing on.

Turn it over and see how your picture is going to look.

Hmmm. Quite nice.

Now out into the sunlight.

So, Roger, in a few moments of stepping outside

into the not very bright light today,

the paper has undergone a thorough change of colour.

It's just starting now, it'll continue on

for the next 10 minutes or so and get darker and darker.

At some point it'll be a very dark brown and you'll know that it's done.

Into the dark room next.

So we are going to move it from just a plain water bath

into the salt bath.

He found that a lot of salt would keep it from turning dark.

And so this was one of Talbot's breakthroughs.

How to stop the image just continuing to get darker

-as it was exposed to the light?

-That's it.

40 years before people knew how to get the image there,

they just didn't know how to stop it.

How quickly did the Victorians take to photography?

It was almost immediate and at all levels.

The day that Queen Victoria proposed to Albert,

she also bought him a photograph at an exhibition in London.

When do you think it begins to change society?

It changes society in a couple of areas.

One is the Crimean War, certainly.

Images coming back from that,

people saw the battlefields for the first time.

But also just the fact that people living in faraway places

could see their monarch.

It brought the world closer, it made the world available to everybody.

Thank you so much for this snapshot of the early days of photography.

It's a pleasure.

In 1944, Matilda Talbot, William's granddaughter,

gave the Abbey and Lacock village to the National Trust.

Strict rules mean residents' properties remain unchanged,

maintaining the medieval feel of the place and its popularity today.

Every house in Lacock is exquisite,

it is the most beautifully preserved village.

And although I am a great fan of the railways,

I shudder to think what would have happened if Isambard Kingdom Brunel

had been able to bring his Weymouth extension through the Lacock estate,

cutting dangerously close to this lovely village

Why do you come to Lacock?

Because we love the place, there's a lovely atmosphere.

Very friendly place to come to, beautiful buildings, lovely history.

It's extraordinarily well preserved, isn't it?

Yes, it's beautiful.

-Hello.

-Hello.

-How do you do?

-It's so nice to see you.

I was thinking, you live in such a charming village

but you besieged by tourists. Are they ever a bit of a nuisance?

No, on the whole they're extremely nice.

-How long have you been here?

-26 years.

I still get pleasure from the village

-because it really is beautiful.

-It is lovely,

and I'm sorry that this tourist has come and disturbed you.

-Not at all.

-I'll be on my way.

Would you like to come in and have drink or anything?

-You're so kind.

-Or are you busy?

-We must be on our way.

What typical Lacock hospitality. Thank you very much indeed. Bye-bye.

Back to Chippenham Station,

where I've spotted an irresistible piece

of Victorian engineering history.

Here at Chippenham Station, this little plaque tells me

that this was the site office used by Isambard Kingdom Brunel

during the construction of the Great Western Railway.

I think nowadays a site office would be Portakabin,

but in Brunel's time even the site office was beautiful.

I'd like to see what's going on inside today.

And Gareth Jones is going to show me around.

This is the room that we believe most of the work took place

when Brunel was designing.

These are the original flagstones.

In the basement most of the ceiling

is supported by these pieces of railway line,

which have come off the Great Western Railway itself.

They jolly well have. That's a rail.

Wow, wow!

And what you do from this office now?

We look after the car parking for First Great Western.

I'm on my way now to Bristol Temple Meads,

where I shall change toward Avonmouth.

I shall be leaving the train at Clifton Down.

Bradshaw's is enthusiastic about Clifton,

calling it "a beautiful watering place".

"The highly romantic and picturesque country

"in the midst of which it is situated

"provides on every side

"the most varied and extensive prospects."

And in the 19th century they added zoological gardens

which, according to Bradshaw's, is, "near Cook's Folly on Durdham Down."

With Iron Age hill forts overlooking its gorge,

Clifton is much older than Bristol.

The area first prospered thanks to its medicinal hot springs.

And the upmarket suburb was already firmly on the 19th century map,

even before Brunel's magnificent suspension bridge opened in 1864.

Victorian zoos were about much more than animals.

They were places suitable for promenading and entertainment.

At Bristol Zoo, which opened in 1836,

I'm meeting Sarah Joy Maddeaux.

-Hello, Sarah.

-Hi.

I've just come through Clifton,

which is beautiful and beautifully preserved.

It must have been quite a place in the 19th century.

What activities were there here?

There was the spa at Hotwells,

but then the zoo was founded in 1836 as one of the really key attractions.

It is the oldest provincial zoo in the world.

For £25 you could purchase a share in the society,

and that enabled you to come into the gardens whenever you wanted.

In fact, Isambard Kingdom Brunel was one of the first shareholders

I've just come on the railway.

-Does that play any part in the zoo's development?

-It does, yes.

Once Clifton Downs station opened in 1874,

it was key to opening access to the zoo.

So people coming by railway to the zoo, any animals?

We know that in 1894 the zoo sent a tiger to London by train.

We also know that they acquired a polar bear from Dundee,

which travelled by train.

I don't think I'd wish to share a compartment

with a polar bear or a tiger!

Modern zoos concern themselves very much with animal conservation,

and I'm keen to find out how far that was the case in Bradshaw's day.

Were the Victorians interested in animal welfare?

Yes, this was a period when you have the foundation

of the Royal Society For The Prevention Of Cruelty To Animals,

and The Royal Society For The Protection Of Birds,

and campaigns against bear-baiting and other blood sports.

But generally they were happy to come to zoos

and see animals from across the globe, from across the Empire,

in order to learn about them.

Now, from across the Empire, so was there a feeling of Imperial pride

that these animals came from parts of the map that were painted red?

Yes, I think that was very much a key

to the founding of zoos in the Victorian period.

Animal welfare has come a long way

since Bristol Zoo's Victorian beginnings.

And I'm meeting keeper Rob Goodchild to find out more.

Hello, Rob. Just admiring your seals, they're wonderful creatures.

Zoos have had to change a lot, haven't they?

How's Bristol doing in that regard?

Nowadays it's more about sustainable breeding programmes,

mental stimulus for the animals.

We've got a seal here, seems to be expecting something.

Yes, he knows he's going to get some reward now.

OK, Michael, if you just want to raise your right hand.

And your left hand.

Hey! Well done!

Now that enables you to have a good look under there

and make sure everything is all right?

Yes, if he didn't raise them for us

it would be almost impossible for me to check under his flippers,

because he's not likely to do it just out of pure kindness.

A simple spin around allows me to see

that he's using all the muscles in his body.

Fantastic. He is a really healthy-looking specimen.

Atari is a brilliant specimen.

He's also a fantastic father,

so his bloodline is extremely well represented in captivity.

Just a mile away, Clifton's grand terraces are another of its charms.

This is truly spectacular.

Bradshaw's says, "The range of buildings known as York Crescent

"affords an agreeable southern aspect, but the elevated situation

"leaves the houses much exposed to high winds."

Of course Bradshaw had never heard of double glazing.

Clifton is probably most famous for Brunel's suspension bridge.

Here I'm meeting Peter Davey, chairman of a group

which looks after a slightly less well-known

piece of Victorian engineering.

-Peter.

-Michael.

-A glorious view, isn't it?

-Absolutely amazing.

-A wonderful piece of engineering.

I've come here in pursuit of a railway, because there used to be a rocks railway, didn't there?

That's right. The Clifton Rocks Railway,

for getting people up and down, Hot Wells to Clifton.

And on the first day, they arranged to have medallions

issued to the people who travelled on the opening day,

11th March, 1893.

What a treasure.

Absolutely delightful.

Victorian publisher and funicular-railway entrepreneur

Sir George Newnes built the railway.

It took two years because local conservationists

insisted it be hidden in a tunnel,

rather than scar the cliff face.

It closed in 1934

and although evidence of its railway past remains,

the tunnel was more recently used

as a Second World War air-raid shelter.

This is shelter number one, Michael.

You can see down here where the people slept on those slabs.

And how many people might have been in here?

On this particular one, probably 100,

but the two other ones are bigger,

so they reckon about 300 could have slept in here.

-You bring your own bedding with you?

-Bring your own bedding,

your own food, your Thermos flask,

as long as you had a ticket.

There you are, look. This one was to a Mr Wade.

So, this was a member of the public

and he gets this pass and that means he could come in here and sleep.

That's it. For the whole war or for one night.

With its stunning view, the Avon Gorge Hotel

is the perfect place for me to end my day

and I love Brunel's suspension bridge.

Tomorrow, I'll go in search of other engineering wonders.

ANNOUNCER: 'The service to Cardiff Central...'

The day has dawned bright and sunny,

but I will shortly head off to the dark and damp

in pursuit of railway engineering heritage.

To reach it, I'm back at Bristol Temple Meads

to catch the First Great Western towards Cardiff,

a much quicker journey today than it was in the 1860s

when my Bradshaw's was written.

During the early decades of the railways,

the only way from Bristol to South Wales

was a huge detour via Gloucester or by ferry.

Then in 1886, the Severn railway tunnel was built.

It was more than four miles long

and remained the longest tunnel in the United Kingdom

for more than a century.

It was an enormous engineering feat to build it,

but another one is to keep it dry

and that remains the case to the present day.

Passengers may appreciate the shorter journey time,

but this tunnel wasn't built for that reason.

This extraordinary piece of Victorian engineering

was driven by the enormous profit

that the Great Western Railway foresaw

in the transportation of coal

from the Welsh Valleys to industrial England.

I've emerged in Wales at Severn Tunnel Junction

to meet Dai Fuller,

who's worked at the tunnel's original pumping station

for 27 years.

Great to see you. Very elegant pump house you have here.

Why is it necessary to pump water out of the Severn Tunnel?

Under the construction of the actual tunnel itself,

an underground river broke through, a fresh-water river.

Are we talking about a lot of water?

If you go back years ago to Victorian days,

they would have been pumping

about 32 to 36 million gallons of water a day.

Do you think people going through on the train have any idea

that you're pumping out millions and millions of gallons a day

-to keep them safe?

-I don't think so.

Passing underwater for over two miles,

the project cost £1.8 million.

The chief engineer Charles Richardson

designed the tunnel 50ft at its deepest,

26ft wide and with a roof up to 3ft thick.

But even such an enormous structure couldn't be engineered

to keep the surrounding water at bay.

How did the Victorians pump the water out?

Cornish beams were operating the pumps to draw the water up.

I can remember, as a schoolchild,

fascinated by looking across here

and hearing the noises coming from this building.

Back in '62, that ceased.

That's when it went over to electric.

A new railway delivered almost 80 million bricks and other materials

for the tunnel and for the new village of Sudbrook

where labourers were housed.

Miraculously, the eight-year construction was completed

without a single fatality,

even when Richardson's men breached an unexpected water source

dubbed "The Great Spring".

-So, what is this cosy space?

-This was actually built

to cope with the underground river that broke through.

If I lift this board up now,

you can see the volume of water that we're actually standing above.

Torrents of water! That is unbelievable.

You're looking at somewhere in the region between

4 to 5ft of water there, going past us.

-4 or 5ft deep?

-Yes.

That is a mighty flow.

Confident in the pump's ability to keep the tunnel dry,

I'm keen to get track-side to catch sight

of one of the eight trains per hour which pass through.

I just heard my ears go,

so I think we're going to witness a train going past shortly.

Feel that wind. It's got a little bit colder, I think.

Here it comes. Here it comes.

And a great gust of wind as it goes past.

That was very exciting.

That's an HST 125 InterCity, off to London.

This train will take me to Gloucester

and I shall remember on the way that that is the route

that many passengers would have had to take

before the Severn Tunnel was built.

And there they would have changed trains

to go down the other side of the Severn

to continue their journey in England.

Ranked the 10th wealthiest town of Medieval England,

Gloucester grew rich on the trade in woven Cotswold wool.

And when the railways arrived in 1840,

my guide book tells me that Gloucester regained its place

amongst the elite of English cities.

I'm meeting local historian Phillip Moss to find out why.

Phil! Hello.

Gloucester, according to Bradshaw's,

is now the central point of communication

between the north and the south,

the east and west of the kingdom.

From Plymouth, there's an uninterrupted run

through Bristol and Gloucester

into the furthest points of the north

where the Iron Road has pierced its way.

So, Gloucester was very important.

It was indeed, but in the early years

the journey was very far from being uninterrupted.

It was here at Gloucester where we had the great change of gauge.

From 1840, the Birmingham-Gloucester Railway

came with a standard gauge to Gloucester.

1844, the Bristol and Gloucester Railway came with the broad gauge.

The Birmingham train came in on the southernmost platform

and the train to Bristol left from the northernmost platform,

so consequently, everybody had to decamp from the train.

They carried far more luggage in those days than we do today

and it was absolute chaos. It has been said that

when anything got lost on the railway system anywhere,

people said, "Oh, it was lost at Gloucester."

So, there was a campaign, really,

to reduce the numbers of gauges to one.

-Is that the point?

-That's right. About 1892, the whole rail system

was one standard gauge.

Back in 1327, King Edward II was buried at Gloucester Cathedral

and, guided by my Bradshaw's, that's where I'm headed next.

Here is the fine East Window which is commended by Bradshaw's.

79ft long, it tells me.

35ft wide.

It is extraordinary. It's an entire wall of glass

with these beautiful figures.

Very, very elegant. Very unusual.

Spectacular.

Commissioned around 1350 by King Edward's son Edward III,

as a tribute to his father,

this was once the largest stained glass window in the world

and, incredibly, 70% of the original remains.

The Victorians left their mark on Gloucester Cathedral, too.

The railways meant that they could easily transport heavy stone

from both York and Bath

for painstaking restoration work,

craftsmanship that master mason Pascal Mychalysin continues today.

How long have you been working as a stonemason on Gloucester Cathedral?

23 years, Michael.

I started on the tower,

then we went to,, I think, the west end

and then we went to the choir

and then...

Well, pretty much all around. MICHAEL CHUCKLES

This door, did you work on that?

Yes, we did the canopies. Otherwise, all what you see here

is Victorian, actually.

Do you recognise the stone, Michael, at the lower stage?

If you're putting it that way,

-it's probably the stone that's used in Parliament.

-Yep.

Yep, exactly. It comes from Anston in Yorkshire, near Rotherham.

It was bought here with the railway.

Gloucester's master mason is French,

and these days the stone that he works so expertly

is sourced from France as well.

And who is this?

She is the first abbess of Gloucester Abbey, the Saxon Abbey,

and she was the sister of King Osric.

And where will she end up?

Inside the church, at the end of the south aisle,

-just before the south transept.

-And what are you working on right now?

This canopy here, in effect, it could go over the head of the statue here.

Yes. What tools do you use for this?

Well, we use practically the same tools as medieval masons were using.

Old chisels or mallets. I can show you.

For example, I am working with a pickaxe here.

Doing the vaulting of the canopy.

So, I'm removing the waste...

with the pickaxe.

And how long would it take you to have done what you've done there?

A full month of work

and there will be another three weeks full-time.

You must be incredibly patient.

To be a mason, you have to be patient.

You have to be Zen. Would you like to have a go?

What, and ruin your beautiful canopy?

Well, I'm sure I can trust you. You are going to be careful.

I'll be very careful. I'll do exactly what you tell me.

OK. Put your hand a bit higher, to have better control.

-Yep.

-Is that OK?

Not bad. You need another seven years and I'm sure you will do good.

I've enjoyed that, Pascal, but I really am scared

of touching such a beautiful thing

on which you've spent so many weeks already.

This stone is not needed, so you could have a wild go, if you want.

Whenever I go to Bristol, I find myself surrounded

by reminders of Isambard Kingdom Brunel,

including his elegant Clifton Suspension Bridge.

But partly we remember him because of that iconic image

with top hat and cigar.

The Victorians will live forever because of photography

and for that invention, we thank William Fox Talbot of Lacock Abbey.

'On the next leg, I drive a car

'powered by the technology of the Victorians...'

This is real motoring.

This is the way it was.

'..I visit the castle of the King of Salt...'

It's as though a French chateau

had landed in the Worcestershire countryside.

You've got to take it with a pinch of salt.

'..and I fight a losing battle in the Wars Of The Roses...'

Ready for the slaughter.

Harder. Come on!