Woking to Walton-on-Thames Great British Railway Journeys

For Victorian Britons, George Bradshaw was a household name.

At a time when railways were new,

Bradshaw's guidebook inspired them to take to the tracks.

I'm using a Bradshaw's guide to understand how trains

transformed Britain,

its landscape, its industry, society and leisure time.

As I crisscross the country 150 years later, it helps me

to discover the Britain of today.

I'm continuing my journey through Surrey.

Today, I hope to discover how the Victorian middle classes

created beautiful homes and gardens.

And, by the end of the 19th century,

demanded a revolution in personal transport to match that

in public transport represented by the railways.

The pace of change in Victorian Britain altered

everything in life, including death.

Following my Bradshaw's guidebook, I travelled through

the county of Kent and took a route south of London into Surrey.

Passing through the Home Counties, I'll visit racetracks

and royal residences before ending riverside in Henley-on-Thames.

Today, I make a sombre start in Woking.

I then put down some roots in West Byfleet,

before racing through Weybridge

to an intense end in Walton-on-Thames.

I get my hands dirty at Wisley.

You're being quite rough with that. I'd be frightened to do that.

In the long term, this will do the plant no end of good.

-So a bit of rough love?

-Absolutely.

Pitch up to see some early camping kit.

This looks handy.

Probably not when it's full, Michael.

That is actually a washing-up bowl.

THEY LAUGH

And get a fright at the wheel of a vintage racing car.

The throttle's got stuck.

The throttle's got stuck.

No, the throttle's got stuck.

Thank you very much. That was a nasty moment.

I'm passing close to the enormous Brookwood Cemetery,

opened in 1864, the year of my guidebook,

to cope with burials from London.

But towards the end of the 19th century, with the enormous increase

in the metropolitan population,

the ingenious idea of exporting bodies from London

to suburban cemeteries was running out of steam.

And the city was about to lose the plot.

My first stop today is Woking.

A busy interchange station with fast links to London,

as well as mainlines to the South Coast and the South West.

Just west of Woking,

the Brookwood Cemetery is the largest in western Europe.

Built to inter the capital's dead,

it was supplied by trains from Waterloo with corpses and mourners.

A decade after Brookwood opened,

a movement began to promote a controversial alternative to burial.

Professor Hilary Grainger is a member of the Cremation Society.

Hilary, I suppose with cemeteries like Brookwood filling up,

-that would lead to an interest in cremation.

-It did indeed.

And it was not simply a question of space,

but it was also a question of hygiene.

Cremationists in the 1870s became very concerned about the miasma,

the gasses that they believed were being emitted

from overcrowded cemeteries, spreading disease.

So the Cremation Movement was historically secular,

concerned with health and hygiene.

And also, of course, was underpinned by advances in Victorian technology.

Had it not been for Victorian engineering in terms of

furnace developments, then cremation couldn't have taken place.

Cremation had been the most common way

to dispose of corpses during the Roman Empire.

But for almost 2,000 years,

the Christian church had stipulated that they must be buried.

Despite religious opposition,

the movement to promote cremation was established in 1874.

And four years later,

it constructed Britain's first purpose-built crematorium at Woking.

The Cremation Society was founded by Sir Henry Thompson,

who was the surgeon to Queen Victoria.

He, together with 15 like-minded people,

signed a declaration in favour of cremation.

And one of the early advocates made the comment that they were

seeking purification rather than putrefaction.

-So, then, the cremations began?

-Um...no.

Sir Henry Thompson and colleagues cremated a horse,

but that caused a huge uproar in Woking, led by the vicar.

And he, together with a number of residents,

made a deputation to the Home Secretary,

who declared that cremation was not a legal act

until there was some sort of parliamentary authorisation.

A curious court case in 1884 effectively changed the law.

After a Welsh druid, Dr William Price,

had cremated the body of his child,

a judge ruled that it was not criminal if no nuisance was caused.

That made cremations legal.

And they began here at Woking Crematorium in 1885,

with three taking place in the first year.

Given the religious opposition to cremation,

it's quite surprising that this building,

which is clearly 19th century, looks ecclesiastical.

That is because a crematorium posed a real problem for an architect.

It was a new building type,

for which there was no architectural precedent.

And in that sense, rather analogous, I think,

to early Victorian railway stations.

And so architects, I think, in the early years,

designed crematories that looked like churches.

But, of course, they're not churches.

And many people find it surprising

that they're not consecrated buildings.

Since cremation was regarded as unconventional,

the building was designed to be reassuringly traditional.

So now we've come inside, we find this splendid catafalque.

Again, lots of religious symbolism.

Indeed, the catafalque is not only the structure upon which

the coffin sits, but it's also the means by which it's removed

mechanically and horizontally through to the cremator room.

In many early crematoria, coffins descended in an imitation of burial.

The early adopters of cremation

were typically drawn from the realms of science, medicine,

arts and literature.

Here we have Thomas Hardy, the novelist, who was cremated,

and his ashes were taken to Westminster Abbey for internment.

Very striking. He's come all the way from Dorchester, that's a long way.

It is, but you have to remember there were very few crematoria

built at this time.

Well, I'm just the far side of the catafalque,

and on the other side is that beautiful brass door.

Here, it's just plain wood, and what a contrast,

this is a stainless steel table,

and here's the handle that winds the coffin through.

-Hello, Phil.

-Hello, Michael.

So, this is where the cremation actually takes place?

Yes, this is what we call a cremator.

What is the process that goes on in there?

The process is basically the lighting of the coffin

from the heat of the chamber, and from then on it's combustion.

And then all that matter is reduced.

How long does that process take?

Approximately 90 minutes.

It wasn't until 1968 that the number of cremations began to exceed burials

and today, cremations make up well over 70% of funerals.

What looks like a graveyard but is not a graveyard?

This.

In the early days of cremation,

Victorians and Edwardians clung to the idea of burying ashes.

It was as though they could not let go of an ancient ritual

in an age that prided itself on its rationalism.

Back at Woking Station, I'm taking a London-bound train.

But I won't be going anywhere near the capital,

as this leg of the journey takes me just three miles along the tracks.

I'm now passing through what Bradshaw

describes as "a succession of picturesque views

"which will delight the traveller,

"affording pleasing specimens of English forest scenery."

In the 19th century, the middle classes wanted to bring nature

closer to their homes, to their gardens,

and they did so with Victorian earnestness,

and they benefitted from an explosion in the number of available specimens.

I'm alighting at West Byfleet, which is the station closest

to the Royal Horticultural Society's garden at Wisley.

Across its 240 acres of decorative flowerbeds,

glasshouses,

laboratories and an arboretum,

it displays species from around the world.

Throughout the 19th century,

the RHS educated the Victorian gardener

as interest in horticulture bloomed.

I'm meeting the director of horticulture, Tim Upson.

I believe the origins of the Royal Horticultural Society

go back to the beginnings of the 19th century.

What was going on in that period

to make people want to found such an organisation?

We were founded in 1804.

Seven gentlemen proposing a new horticultural society,

really just to understand this vast wealth of new plants

which were coming in from around the world.

And to promote the practice,

science and art of horticulture is really what we're still about today.

These people were, I take it, gentlemen with substantial estates?

Yes, John Wedgewood of the Wedgewood pottery family,

Sir Joseph Banks, one of our great scientists, and an explorer.

What's the history of this particular site at Wisley?

This was actually the estate of George Fergusson Wilson.

He was a chemist by profession,

but what he wanted to do was to experiment

about how to grow some of these new plants

which were being brought into the country.

And this site offered the opportunity, as he described,

to grow some of these new plants in half a dozen different conditions.

So, it's about experimenting

and trying to understand what these new plants needed.

A successful Victorian businessman,

Wilson sowed the seeds of today's experimental gardens,

which passed to the RHS in 1903 upon his death.

We've met in the rockery,

which strikes me as a particularly Victorian sort of garden.

Yes, very much of that era.

In fact, they used a light railway to move these big Sussex sandstone

boulders around the slopes here,

and it's one of the fabulous features of this garden.

Do you think the British today are more or less passionate

than the Victorians were about their gardens?

There's still a lot of passion. We're a great gardening country.

I think we're beginning to realise how important horticulture

and green spaces are to our general lives.

It makes you feel better.

Get a bit of soil under your nails.

That's right, that's what it's all about really.

The gardens were initially only open to RHS members,

of which there are now 440,000, but today Wisley is open to all.

What brings you to Wisley?

-A walk.

-It's a very pleasant morning.

-Is it a good place for a family day out?

-Fantastic. We come here a lot.

What do you enjoy about it?

They love being in the big green house.

And they like building the dens.

Why do you think the British are so crazy about gardens?

Very therapeutic. Gardening is very therapeutic.

I suppose we have the weather for it -

a lot of places are very dry, so it's difficult to grow plants.

Whereas we have... I suppose it's easier to grow a variety.

Growing the many thousands of varieties of plants,

and educating the public about them, is a team of up to 200 gardeners.

-Hello, Stewart.

-Hello, Michael.

-I gather we're going to plant a tree.

-That's right.

I'm hoping to learn a thing or two from gardener Stewart Hall.

Stewart, the leaves are on the turn and there's a chill in the air.

Is this a good time to be planting a tree?

That's right, autumn is always the best time to plant trees.

If you plant in summer, you have to think about watering continually,

so yes, autumn is always the best time.

Right, if I do that, you'll be able to pull the tree out.

Comes out quite easily, and we can have a look at the root system.

It's got a healthy root system, it's not too pot bound.

But it can always do with quite a nice rigorous breaking up.

This will encourage the roots to spread outwards.

You're being quite rough with it. I'd be frightened to do that.

When we're demonstrating to the public,

they get quite surprised that you can be quite ruthless

with this, but in the long term this will do the plant no end of good.

-Bit of rough love.

-Absolutely.

This tree is a type of acer called October Glory,

and should have a lifespan of around 100 years.

So, we'll give it a nice good soak.

What I'll do is I'll give it a nice thick cover of compost.

Well, Stewart, I've enjoyed getting my hands dirty.

-Thank you so much.

-My pleasure.

-Thank you for helping.

-Bye!

-Bye-bye.

As the day ends, I feel I've left my mark on these beautiful gardens.

It's a new day and I'm rejoining the tracks at West Byfleet to

make my way along this busy London commuter line to Weybridge.

Throughout Queen Victoria's reign,

trains were the only form of high-speed transport.

But all her successors have witnessed the irresistible rise

of private high-speed transport on the roads.

I hope to appreciate the moment of transition

when I leave this train at Weybridge.

Within walking distance of the station is Brooklands Museum.

It charts the rise of motor racing from the early

prototypes of the Victorian era, through to today.

Brooklands is the birthplace of British motorsport,

as it was the first purpose-built race track in the world

and was crucial to the development of the British motor industry.

Alan Wynne is the director of the motor museum.

So, when does motor racing really get going?

On the Continent, in the latter years of the 19th century.

In this country, with the exception of very few hillclimbs and sprints

on private ground, nothing until 1907, when Brooklands track opened.

Why the big difference between the Continent and the UK?

It was all down to legislation, originally.

Speed limits, in particular. Up until 1896, you've got

a speed limit of 4mph, a man with the red flag walking in front of you.

Then we went to 12mph and then to 20mph,

but that's not the stuff of motor racing.

So what happens to change that?

It's really down to Hugh Locke King, an enthusiastic motorist.

He owns all this land around here,

goes off to Sicily to see the Coppa Florio motor race on public roads,

laments the lack of British motor cars and drivers

and is told that the reason is, there's just nowhere where the

British manufacturers can develop fast motor cars.

So he comes back, resolved to build this track and we end up with

a two-and-three-quarter mile concrete racetrack, 100 feet wide,

the first purpose-built motor racing circuit in the world.

Shall we go and have a look at it?

Yeah, come aboard an earlier car and we'll show you what it's all about.

Given how dominant trains were in meeting Britain's transport

needs when this track was built,

only a visionary could have imagined how far the motorcar would develop.

Brooklands cost £150,000 to build.

The equivalent to £16 million today.

And it nearly bankrupted Locke King.

Steep bankings at each end allowed the cars to corner at great speeds.

Because there was no precedent to how you would run a motor race

on a closed circuit, the Brooklands Automobile Racing Club

just borrowed the rules of horse racing.

So to this day in motor racing we have the cars assembling in a paddock

under the control of the clerk of the course, indiscretions of

the drivers are dealt with by stewards, all of the things

that pertained in motor racing right now will come straight from horse racing.

Fantastic.

This iconic track hosted the Junior Car Club's famous 200 miles races

in the 1920s and '30s.

And staged the first ever British Grand Prix in 1926.

Racing ceased at Brooklands on the outbreak of the Second World War,

when the site was used to build Vickers military aircraft.

Today, sections of the track remain

and I'm throwing caution to the wind to take this beauty out for a spin.

What is this car?

A 1929 Bentley 4.5 litre,

as raced by legends of motor racing like Tim Birkin.

He raced this car in the double 12 race in 1929.

Still going strong.

Still going extremely strong.

-Right, so all three switches on the right-hand side down.

-All down.

Ignition to fully retarded.

-Press the starter button here.

-ENGINE IGNITES

Takes a bit of getting used to. The throttle is in the middle,

the brake's on the right...

You imagine streaking along the course, 100, 120mph,

the crowds going crazy, racing green streaking past them.

This car can easily go over 100mph,

but I'm not aiming for a track record today.

I'm enjoying this!

Well, I'm glad you're getting to learn a vintage motorcar

in such a wonderful, evocative place as this.

Ah, could be better, could it?

The world's first purpose-built motor racing circuit.

One of the finest cars ever built in Britain.

How lucky am I?

But sadly, I'm no expert at driving this vintage vehicle.

I've cut the... The throttle's got stuck.

The throttle's got stuck.

No, throttle's got...

-Yes, sorry, you knocked the hand throttle.

-Oh, OK.

Thank you very much, that was a nasty moment.

As I leave the racetrack,

I make my way back to the train track at Weybridge.

My next stop will be Walton-on-Thames.

I want to look at a Victorian who brought together in one activity

many of the fashions of the day.

An interest in nature, a wish to escape from the urban grime,

a concern for fitness and for manliness and on a dull and damp day

like this, what better time to think about camping?

Walton-on-Thames is situated on the south-west mainline

and served by fast trains,

some of which stop only once between here and London Waterloo.

It seems a most unlikely place to find a campsite.

Owned by The Camping and Caravanning Club, it's the oldest

remaining site in their network and was established in 1913.

I'm meeting Candy Evans who writes for their magazine.

So people have been pitching their tents here for more than 100 years.

How did camping as an activity get going?

It dates back to a gentleman by the name of Thomas Hiram Holding,

the gentleman that is sitting in this tent here.

He had spent his early years, the 1840s, in America,

part of the wagon trains.

And as he got older, he then went into making tents for his own use

and for his friends and in 1901, he combined that

with his love of cycling and started the Association of Cycle Campers.

Born in 1844, Holding was 57 when he formed the association,

which started out with just 13 members.

By 1906, the association had several hundred members and would

later go on to become The Camping and Caravanning Club that we know today.

And as far as cycling and camping is concerned,

-did they have special bikes to do that?

-They did, yes.

And you can see on here that he has special carriers for

his Primus stove and another one for his milk bottles.

And we have actually got a Primus here,

which dates back to those sort of days.

I must say, I think I remember what to do with this.

Put down the feet for it to stand on, and you put the supports in here...

..which is going to...

keep up your saucepan.

That bit screws in there...

..burner sits on top...

And then I seem to remember that you have to prime it like mad.

What else have you got here? This looks handy.

Probably not when it's full, Michael.

That is actually a washing-up bowl.

-But obviously...

-I see.

Once a year you would waterproof that

and you would carry your water in this water carrier here.

Again, it would be waterproofed, waxed once a year

and that will do you for the season.

At the turn-of-the-century,

camping as a leisure pursuit was very much in its infancy.

Equipment had to be improvised

and the novice camper needed guidance on how to survive the great outdoors.

Holding wrote a seminal book,

The Campers' Handbook, to impart his many tips.

It was extremely important to possible new campers of the day,

because it told you absolutely everything,

everything from what to take with you, how to transport it,

the food you might like,

through to how to deal with snorers on the campsite.

One of the most important things is the clothing.

I mean, here for example is the lady with her skirt on.

"The best kind of skirt for camping is one that finishes three inches

"off the ground and it should not be less, nor need it be more."

So what did he think people could get out of camping?

Well, for him, I think a lot of it was about health.

Holding maintained that if you had a cold when you went camping,

it would go immediately.

I think he was very much of his time, a Victorian man for whom

the outdoors was a very important part of life and it was very much

a case of getting people out of the cities and into the countryside.

In those days, there were no statutory holidays and in fact,

most of the people who could afford to do this would

have been the upper middle class and it was very

much a case of those people getting out and doing what felt right.

So once he's got all this going, how does it catch on?

Remarkably rapidly, actually.

By the time Robert Falcon Scott goes on his ill-fated expedition

to the Antarctic, he was the president of the club.

And by the 21st birthday of the club, Baden-Powell of the

Scouting movement was very heavily involved

and had become the president.

And there's a lovely picture there of him, obviously very relaxed

and in his element, being surrounded by other fellow campers.

Today, The Camping and Caravanning Club has over half a million members

and over 100 campsites the length and breadth of Britain.

Hello!

Sorry to trouble you.

And it's come a long way from the sheets and poles of a century ago.

-Do you mind if I just sit down for a moment?

-Not at all.

-You're welcome.

You've got a very smart motorhome. Have you been touring long?

Over two years now.

Our three children, who we raised in Sydney,

have all put down their roots here and when we retired, they said,

"Mum and Dad, you've got to come over and join us, the family's moved."

So we're partly enjoying retirement and partly looking for somewhere

we might ultimately settle.

Are you are getting near to making a decision?

Um...

-Well, no.

-Not really.

We came over the with a list of things we wanted to do

and after two years, the list is even longer now,

so we haven't ultimately decided where we're going to settle.

We enjoy this life.

Today's campers might have fancier equipment

and more home comforts, but the spirit of adventure that ran

through Victorians like Thomas Hiram Holding, endures.

During the Victorian era, those who could afford leisure visited

the countryside using the train.

By the end of the century,

some were using bicycles to go camping or motorcars to tour.

The middle classes imported nature into their urban gardens.

But they added to the pressure on space,

as reflected by the desperate search for places to bury the dead.

Cremation was the obvious answer,

but it required the overthrow of two millennia of Christian theology.

Next time, I'm let loose on the longest vine in the world.

Have you ever allowed an incompetent like me to do this?

-No! No.

-HE LAUGHS

I get fired up, like an early Victorian gent.

I've hit my man!

And I find how the course of British history was set in Esher.

If Charlotte had not died, Victoria would never have been conceived

and we'd never have had the Victorian era.