Gravesend to Broadstairs Britain's First Photo Album

In the Victorian era, Britain changed as never before.

It was the time of great inventors, great engineers,

but above all, great businessmen, entrepreneurs,

and one of the best examples was the pioneer photographer, Francis Frith.

It was in the 1860s that Francis Frith embarked upon a monumental mission

using the newly invented photographic camera.

He wanted to document every city, every town,

and every village in the land.

I'm tracing the footsteps of this remarkable man

and his team of photographers.

Using their pictures as my guide,

I'll be travelling the length and breadth of the country

finding out what has altered and what has stayed the same,

and along the way, I'll be taking my own photos

to try and capture the mood of the place as it is now.

That's great.

Welcome to Britain's First Photo Album.

Back in 1860, the newfangled way of making pictures was all the rage.

The trouble was that the cameras were expensive

and difficult to use.

Francis Frith seized the opportunity,

setting up the first photographic publishing business.

He and his team combed the country looking for interesting landscapes,

townscapes, and of course, people.

And the results were snapped up.

My photographic journey today takes me along the North Kent coast,

from the historic town of Gravesend along the river to Faversham,

and finally to the seaside resort of Broadstairs.

En route, I'll be catching a ride on a beautifully restored Thames sailing barge.

Ah, the power of sail.

I'll be finding out what Victorians thought was a good day out.

If I do do it, I want a bit of a cheer,

if I don't get it right, I don't want a boo, OK?

And I'll be meeting the owners of the seaside home of Charles Dickens.

You look absolutely great.

My trip begins in Gravesend.

In Frith's time this was a thriving town,

an important stopping-off point for travellers,

for those on their way to London, going by road or on the river.

Our first picture today from the Frith collection is one of the best.

There it is, Gravesend, a Thameside scene.

We have a sailing barge,

we have a very proud owner,

we've got something going on here, past the wall.

We've got a lot to find out, so, let's get going.

To me, it's the boats which really stand out in this photograph.

Thames barges were a vital feature of Gravesend life

for hundreds of years.

These majestic sailing boats with their distinctive red sails

were once the workhorses of the river.

And perhaps the finest example that still survives is the Cambria.

It's just had a very comprehensive refit.

And its captain, Richard Titchener,

is about to take on a new member of the crew, me.

I'm a keen sailor, not that you'd really notice.

It's a bit of a knack, really, you've got to concentrate.

Oh, dear.

OK.

This is the entire crew now, very...

The first Thames barges took to the river in the 17th century.

By the 1890s, they were at their peak.

Their wide, flat-bottomed hulls

meant they were perfectly adapted for carrying heavy loads up and down the Thames estuary.

-Now, if you're svelte like me...

-Yes.

..you can get round this wheel, round behind it.

-So can I, yes. No, I can get round.

-Oh, well done.

I'm not that podgy.

-Oh, I see, I can now see what I'm doing.

-OK.

So, we want to go a bit that way?

Only a little bit.

But the real problem without an engine,

is that when you've got no engine, you've got no wind.

What you've got to bear in mind is that you're on the tidal Thames here at Gravesend.

The tidal Thames is an eight-lane motorway

running straight through the centre of the capital of the Empire.

That motorway has a tide that runs six hours in, and six hours out.

So, if you could drop an item in the water here at Gravesend at low tide,

it would be in London on the next flood tide,

and that's all free, isn't it?

At the end of the 19th century,

there were over 2,000 registered Thames barges.

But the development of the diesel engine,

and the advent of large lorries,

brought the demise of these handsome sailing ships.

But through the astonishing hard work of a charitable trust,

the Cambria is still on the water.

And what a thrill it gives.

Right, this is my Kate Winslet moment, where I just...

MUSIC: "My Heart Will Go On"

Not very convincing, but fun.

Ah, the power of sail.

It's wonderful, it really is,

there's something about sailing that is just...

It's, it's obviously dramatic,

but it's also kind of romantic too.

I'm not really crying,

it's just the wind, the wind's coming into my eyes.

All right, it is emotional, but these aren't, they're not real tears.

I can see why the Frith photographer was keen to picture a Thames barge,

they have such presence on the water.

It's a shame there are so few left.

The Cambria herself would not be here today without the Cambria Trust,

and her shipwright, Tim Goldsack, who gave her a new lease of life.

So, you had to build, you had to build all this?

Yes, we did.

There's only, probably, about 3% or 4% of the original barge left.

There's some of the parts of the machinery of the vessel

that are original bits that we've refitted.

And how long did it take?

It took just over three and a half years.

-Three and a half years?

-Yes, yes.

And how much did that cost?

Well, the total budget for the job was about £1.4 million.

Goodness me.

And what was it like after all that time working on it

when you finished it, what was the feeling?

Oh, I mean, a feeling of pride for myself

and the rest of the team that were working on her.

I think the pride that Tim and the crew of the Cambria feel is thoroughly justified.

Thankfully, at least one part of our Frith photo lives on.

But what about the gardens here on the right of the picture?

This area hasn't fared as well as it might in the past hundred years or so.

Sandra Soder is honorary secretary of the Gravesend Historical Society,

and we're meeting at the spot where our Frith photo was taken in 1898.

The view now is very different.

These, with the, sort of, like, Turkish minarets on the top,

that was the Clifton Baths, and the Baths started in 1797.

An entrepreneur bought some second-hand bathing machines from Margate

and one came to Gravesend to take the waters.

Right, so this was a beach, was it meant to be?

Well, yes, there was.

At the time, there is a description that said the river was so clear

that you could see the beach beneath.

Right.

And people did actually come to Gravesend,

because at Gravesend you've just the right amount of salt to do you good.

And where were they coming from to come here?

Well, from all over, but from London, but from all over,

they were coming down to take the waters.

-Right, so this was a kind of resort?

-Yes.

-It doesn't look like it now, does it?

-No, not at all.

It doesn't strike me as being a perfect holiday destination.

-But it was then?

-Yes.

-Fashionable?

-Yes.

-Right.

What would be the attraction when they got here?

It would have been Rosherville Gardens,

and in there they would have been all sorts of attractions - archery,

animals, bear pit, ballroom...

like the Alton Towers of its day.

But Gravesend's glory days were numbered.

The first blow came in 1878,

when the Princess Alice paddle steamer collided with a 900-tonne cargo ship at Woolwich,

on her way to Gravesend.

She split in two, and sank within four minutes.

650 people lost their lives.

Up till then, the paddle steamers had been one of the most popular ways

for the well-to-do to travel from London to Gravesend.

But this terrible disaster, the worst in the history of the Thames,

threw the future into doubt.

And with the rapid expansion of the railway network

from the mid-19th century,

tourists and day-trippers

started to go further afield for their holidays.

As time went on, it was not the moneyed middle classes,

the shopkeepers and those people coming down here,

it was then going to more lower classes of people coming in

and they were getting drunk here.

So it was losing its appeal to people to come to.

-Rough trade, yes.

-Yes!

-The old class system exerts itself.

-Yes, that's right!

Sandra has painted a vivid picture of Gravesend's changing fortunes

as a Victorian holiday destination.

I can't help feeling a pang of remorse

as I look at what was once the jewel in its crown.

This is where the famous Rosherville Gardens were,

all the entertainment and pleasure and now look at it.

It just could not be worse, could it?

In every place I visit on this trip, I capture my own picture,

my take on what it's like now.

Rosherville is no more,

but the proud barge captain of the Frith photo

certainly does have a modern-day equivalent.

And so I'm heading back to the Cambria to record

an equally proud captain and his crew.

We're going to photograph you across here.

Me and the captain will be in the middle.

-Can you go on the other side?

-I can.

-OK.

You are the real captain,

but you'll notice a lot of attention will come onto me.

LAUGHTER

OK.

Are you already? Right, off we go.

CAMERA BEEPS

So here's my photo.

The Cambria fully restored and shipshape,

back in her rightful place on the Thames.

And we've got the crew, who are doing such a marvellous job,

keeping the Thames barge tradition alive.

And I'm being cheeky, taking quite an undue share of the limelight!

Back on the road,

I'm heading off to investigate my next Frith photograph.

I'm staying in Kent, but travelling a few miles east along the river

to the old market town of Faversham.

Nestling between the river and the rich farmlands of the Garden of England,

Faversham has always been well placed for industry.

London bricks were made here. Most of Britain's explosives came from here.

And it's still home to one of the country's oldest breweries.

But it's Victorian leisure activities that have brought me here today.

This is the Frith photograph we're looking at.

Faversham's recreation ground, known as the Rec, taken in 1892.

Every town in Britain today has a public park like this

and it's the Victorians that we have to thank.

But some of our parks have stood the test of time better than others.

Local historian Arthur Percival is here to tell me

what the Faversham Rec is like now, almost 120 years later.

-It's a great big park, isn't it?

-It's a big park.

It's about 20 acres, I believe, yes.

And when was it at the height of its popularity?

I think probably in the late 19th century, early 20th century.

It was meant to be providing open air and green space,

because a lot of them were living in very confined quarters.

They were living in small houses.

Cottages just with backyards.

So this is providing the lungs of the city?

A lung, absolutely, is the word.

-Now, here is our picture from the collection...

-Yes, it's a gorgeous picture.

-And, er... It is lovely, isn't it?

-A lovely picture.

-So where are we?

Well, we're looking at the cottage,

what was the park-keeper's cottage in those days.

Oh, yes. Actually this pavement here, this is this track.

It's a footpath, actually. This existed before the Rec was open.

-It is remarkably similar.

-Oh, yes, it's virtually unchanged.

-But they look different from the modern people.

-Yes, they do.

The schoolchildren on the right, the boys.

The girls, I think, are just out with their governesses or nurses,

probably middle-class children. The ones on the right perhaps not middle class.

The park is bringing everyone together, so although you see

-that perhaps these kids aren't as well off as these kids, well, they're all together.

-Yes.

So that's probably progress, isn't it?

It is progress. Totally.

Frith and his team took numerous photographs of the public parks

that sprang up across Britain throughout the 19th century.

Many were generous gifts to local communities by landowners and wealthy industrialists,

who sought to make their towns and cities better places to work and live.

The parks soon became places where local people would gather to play organised games.

And here in the Faversham Rec, very little has changed.

What is so nice is that there's all this activity going on

in the way that the people who started this park in 1860 would have liked.

This is recreational activity, organised games. It's wonderful.

And, purely for educational purposes, of course,

I think it's time for me to show them how it's done.

Now, you'll notice, the way I'm holding it, it's very expert.

-Do you think I can do it?

-Yes, have a go.

-Are you?

If I do do it, I want a bit of a cheer.

If I don't get it right, I don't want a boo, OK?

Just a bit of polite clapping if I don't get it.

OK. Here we go.

-That wasn't bad.

-Pretty good.

APPLAUSE

-Well done.

-Ah. It's nothing.

It's nothing, please. No, no, it's nothing, honestly!

-But look, am I the right age to start this?

-Of course you are.

Really?

-Don't you think I'm a bit young for this(?)

-No, we don't mind. Nine to 90.

'90! What's he trying to say?

'I think I might have shown them up a bit!

'I've decided I want my photo here to be the spitting image of our Frith photo.'

OK, come over here a bit. You come a bit closer there. Right.

You stand there. That's fine.

'And I've recruited some kind passers-by to help me out.'

Everybody look at the camera. Everybody smile. Very good.

OK. Excellent.

And here's my picture.

120 years later and the Faversham Rec has hardly changed.

It's still used by families to get some fresh air

and give the kids a bit of fun.

All those years ago, they enjoyed this park,

and people are still enjoying this park.

I'm tracing the footsteps of pioneer photographer Francis Frith and his team,

using the photographs they took, in order to find out how our country has changed.

My next port of call is the charming seaside resort of Broadstairs.

Steam ships were bringing tourists here from the start of the 19th century.

But when the railways arrived in the 1860s,

the place really took off as a popular holiday destination.

Our next Frith photograph is of the main beach at Broadstairs,

Viking Bay.

And it was taken in 1887.

The idea of holidays by the sea

was an idea virtually thought up by the Victorians.

But how did this new fashion affect what had been a tiny fishing village

with a population of only 300 people?

Local historian Barrie Wootton has entered into the spirit

of our whole enterprise by bringing a very rare, original Frith album,

documenting Broadstairs in the late 1800s.

What's nice is you can see the way it was a fishing village

and there are still the fishermen and their boats.

-And, on this page, we're getting the beginning of the resort, aren't we?

-We are.

What are these here?

They're local bathing machines.

-What did people do in the bathing machines?

-Obviously, they disrobed.

So you took your clothes off in there.

You put on some kind of costume.

In the beginning, no costume.

No costume, right.

Later, there were knitted costumes.

In 19th century Britain,

people believed that sea water was an all-purpose remedy.

Hanging out at the beach became suddenly acceptable,

even for polite society.

The Victorians couldn't get enough of it.

What would people do on the beach?

There'd be seaside entertainers on the beach.

Magic tricks, singing, dancing.

They have even been known

to get a grand piano down on the sands in the 1890s.

-Just down here?

-Just down here.

Let's look across the beach.

That house at the end is very important, isn't it?

It is. That was the place where Charles Dickens, the great author,

penned some of his works.

To people down here, he was really quite anonymous.

He'd sit in the pubs, like the Tartar Frigate,

and he'd listen to the people and watch the people and what they did.

He thought it was wonderful. Then it got more successful.

As the trains came, so more people came.

There were now hundreds of people, rather than just a select few

and he just couldn't think.

It was getting very noisy and, in the end, sadly, he left.

-But still, all these years later, still people think about Charles Dickens.

-Absolutely.

For more than 20 years, Dickens and his family

would come to Broadstairs in the summer months to escape

from the crowded, often oppressive streets of London.

It was this imposing cliff-top house that became their holiday home.

It was renamed Bleak House in honour of Dickens after his death in 1870.

This grand building is now privately owned by Richard and Jackie Hilton.

Well, there we are, the proud owners of Charles Dickens's house.

-You are proud, Archie?

-Oh, yeah, very much.

Were you pleased to take on the Dickens side, all the stuff in the study?

Oh, yeah, sure.

To be honest, I'd always been a fan of Charles Dickens.

I love his ones what he does what are on the TV,

like Bleak House and others, Oliver Twist, all that sort of thing.

Built in 1816 as a residence for the local Captain of the Guard,

Dickens discovered the house by chance while out walking.

Thrilled to find it was up for rent, he usually stayed for a month.

Parts of the house have been maintained as a museum,

including the room where Dickens spent most of his time.

This is the dream study, isn't it? We'd all want to be here.

I think so, yeah.

Anyone who comes in here, they sit there and go, "I can't believe it,

"I'm sitting in the chair where he wrote some of his novels."

Why do you think it was raised up?

-So he could see the views.

-Yes.

Because he wasn't a very tall man, was he? About 5'8".

If that had been on the ground, he would not have been able to see over there.

-Also, everyone wants to be near the sea.

-Oh, yeah.

You want to look out and see the sea.

Oh, it's lovely.

Our Frith photo was taken in 1887,

17 years after the great author's death, and, by then,

Broadstairs had become inextricably linked with the name of Charles Dickens.

So I've decided to take my photograph of the two people helping to preserve his legacy.

So here's my picture.

Richard and Jackie, the happy owners,

sitting at the very desk used by Charles Dickens.

What a nice couple.

Just the kind of lively characters

I suspect Charles Dickens would have liked to have written about.

And we go from one very popular part of British culture

to another - quite different, but very interesting.

Today's final Frith photograph takes me

about a mile further along the coast to North Foreland,

the most easterly point in Kent, which overlooks the English Channel.

Taken in 1887, it's the North Foreland Lighthouse,

which is still working today.

Some of these pictures look very different from what it is today.

This looks exactly the same.

Lighthouses hold a special place in our national life.

They're a symbol of reassurance and safety - lights in the darkness,

guiding the weary seafarer home.

The North Foreland Lighthouse

still helps ships to navigate the busy coast of north-eastern Kent,

stopping boats from running aground, as it has done for 500 years.

Gerry Sherwood was one of the last lighthouse keepers in the country and he worked here.

Right, so here we go, I think... We can see it all there, can't we?

-That's almost exactly...

-It is, indeed.

-..where it was.

So what have we got here?

On the right-hand side, we have the principal keeper's cottage.

On the left-hand side, the assistant keeper's cottage

and the very significant porch on the outside.

That's this, which you can see in the picture.

Now, the oldest part of the lighthouse is this bottom bit.

That's right, yes. Up to this first course in the middle of the tower,

that's where the old platform was for the coal brazier.

What you have to imagine in those days

is that the coast was completely dark,

because there was no street lights or any ambient light whatsoever,

even moonlight.

A small fire would have shown up quite a long way.

The lighthouse was extended to its current height in 1793.

But the final alteration happened as recently as 1998.

So this lighthouse was the last one to be automated?

It was indeed, yes, the very last in the country.

-And once this ended, a whole era ended?

-It did.

And no more keepers left in the entire UK.

That meant a lot to you because you were a keeper here.

I was actually here for three years as principal keeper.

What was it like for you to be a lighthouse keeper?

It was great here. You can imagine. Coming up here, this is like a palace.

-It's still one of my favourite stations.

-Yes.

'Looking at our Frith photo,

'the exterior of the lighthouse has changed little.'

'But, inside, it's a different story.'

This is what superseded all the keepers.

-It's the GPS monitoring system.

-And it's all completely automated?

-Completely automated. Nothing to do with keepers.

-No romance?

Nothing nice about it, just click, click, click.

'The North Foreland Lighthouse served

'a special purpose during the Second World War.

'The Germans didn't target British lighthouses because they needed them, too.'

Not many people know

that this actually was a radar-jamming facility.

Where you're standing now, there was a bank of electronics

going across this room.

-So this equipment here is jamming the German radar?

-Yes.

-And it's all completely secret, nobody knows it's here?

-No.

-At the time it was all secret.

-Just an amazing facility. Again in this old, old building.

-OK, John, here we are in the lantern.

-Right.

-And the light's going.

-This actual lens dates from the 1860s.

-Does is it really?

-It's been adapted over the past couple of hundred years

with different illuminants.

When our picture was taken, this would have been here?

This would have been here

and in the centre would have been a multi-wick oil burner.

How extraordinary.

As we look out here,

we can see on this day how many ships there are.

-This is a very busy shipping area.

-It is.

It marked an important turning point

for vessels coming in and out of the Thames over there,

coming through the Dover Straits, going up into northern Europe.

Of course, out towards Scandinavia

and up to the north-east coast ports in England.

-All the trans-continental shipping would come past.

-Why do you think in Britain

we're so fascinated by lighthouses? What is it?

I think because we are a maritime nation

and they are very iconic.

Wherever you go, a lighthouse is designed to be highly visible

-against the background.

-This is it. "We're coming home."

-That's right.

-I think I would have liked to have had a lighthouse.

You'd be very good at it, I'm sure.

'In my picture of the lighthouse,

'I'm trying to show it representing the end of an era,

'now automated and unmanned.'

An exciting, dramatic picture is the idea,

with this, the last of the manned lighthouses in the country,

but now, empty and the windows blocked in.

So this is going to be my shot.

It's a very fancy camera, this,

I've just got to press on the top and that'll be it.

And there is my lighthouse picture.

It looks mysterious, which is appropriate,

because there is something about lighthouses which...

Well, it's mysterious.

Why do we like them so much?

And that's the joy of this series.

We're finding out parts of the British psyche

based on our history, which are very difficult to understand.

Next time on Britain's First Photo Album, I'm off to Surrey

to find out what's left of Francis Frith's beloved house.

So, we know that Frith would've walked into the swimming pool?

Exploring smugglers' hidey-holes in East Sussex

and singlehandedly taking on the Napoleonic army.

Cor! That's something, isn't it?