Great British Railway Journeys (2010–…): Season 3, Episode 10 - Wareham to Portland - full transcript
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 over halfway through my journey
tracing the railways impact
on the south of England.
Today I'm continuing my route
towards what my Bradshaw's Guide
calls Dorsetshire.
Today's journey takes me through the
beautiful landscape of the New Forest.
The railways enabled
Victorian tourists en masse
to visit and experience
this distant wilderness,
and helped Victorian industry
to exploit nature's gifts.
On this stage of the journey,
I'll be slithering in the tracks
of a Victorian snake catcher...
Fantastic view.
I never dreamt I'd get that close.
Uncovering a secret library
described in my “Bradshaw's Guide“...
- This is your oldest book?
- Yes, it is.
(man) Only two other copies exist.
And taking one of
my shortest ever railway journeys.
Whoa! Off we go.
So far We discovered how royalty,
industry and agriculture alike
were transformed by train travel.
Now I'm exploring this regions
stunning coastline,
as I approach my final stop
on the Isle of Portland.
On this stretch I'll pass through
the New Forest National Park,
stopping off at Bournemouth
on my way to the harbour town of Poole.
(tannoy)
We are now arriving into Brockenhurst.
(Michael) The Victorians
were fascinated by nature
and the railway
helped make the New Forest
a hot spot
for botanists and insect collectors.
This is Brockenhurst.
My Bradshaw's Guide says,
"This station
is most exquisitely situated
amidst the charming scenery
of the New Forest." And so it is.
And the railways transformed it
from a very small village
into something of a resort.
But intriguingly, many Victorians
came here not in search of wildlife,
but in search of a particularly
charismatic individual.
Brockenhurst Station opened in 1847
and was soon bringing visitors
eager to meet the New Forests
outstanding celebrity.
I've come to the village churchyard
to hear the story from local historian
Richard Reeves.
- Richard.
- How are you?
- What a wonderful place.
- Yes.
A very intriguing tombstone.
Why are we meeting by this one'?
This tombstone here
is that of Harry Mills.
He was a Victorian snake catcher.
Bit of an odd occupation,
but it made him one of the most famous
Victorian characters in the New Forest.
He lived in a small charcoal burner's
hut in the forest for 19 years.
As a hermit and a snake catcher,
he was not your standard human being.
As Britain became increasingly urbanised
in the 19th century,
there was a huge appetite
for news of the natural world.
In the 1880s, a visitor
who joined Harry Mills on a snake hunt
wrote it up in the national press.
Soon, people were arriving by train
to see him for themselves.
What kind of things did he do
that made him a character,
that made him
kind of a tourist attraction?
One of the things he would do was,
as tourists arrived in the forest,
he'd walk up
and surreptitiously drop a snake
and everyone would panic and run around.
He would walk up, catch the snake
and doff his hat and, you know,
"Spare a shilling'?",
and safely stow the snake away.
As well as bringing tourists
to gawp at this fearless snake catcher,
the new railway also enabled Harry
Mills to set up a lucrative sideline,
sending live snakes by rail
to the capital.
He then became supplier
to the snake house in London Zoo.
They required
a good supply of live snakes
to feed the snake-eating snakes
in their collections.
He was getting a shilling a head
for every snake he caught.
In fact, on one particular occasion,
he'd done a good job on catching adders.
He usually supplied grass snakes,
which are non-venomous,
but one month he had 76 adders
and he decided to pack them off.
They sent a note back saying,
"We'd rather you didn't send those
any more because they bite."
So after that
he could only send grass snakes.
Was he bitten, do you know
Yes, he was bitten a couple of times.
He does state that it was his own fault.
But he used to boil the adders up
and extract their fat
and he swore by that
as an effective remedy for a snake bite,
which he also sold locally
as a cure-all,
one of those classic Victorian lotions
which would sort anything,
from a black eye to adder bite.
Amazingly, Harry Mills killed
around 30,000 snakes in his lifetime.
These days, mercifully,
they're protected by law.
Richards become
a modem-day snake hunter.
He's interested in conserving, not
destroying, the local adder population,
but uses the same skills
to track them down.
(Richard) When I come out here,
I'm taking photographs,
identifying the individuals, and thereby
I'm able to monitor the population,
to make sure it's doing OK.
- And it is doing OK?
- This one is doing perfectly well.
In a lot of areas around the country,
they're declining due to habitat loss.
Searching for adders
can be hit and miss,
but Richard knows exactly where to look.
(Richard) You should look around
the bottom edges of these bushes.
You see there? Nice ginger adder.
- Beautiful female.
- I can. That is beautiful.
(Michael) She's very gingery.
Really quite bright colours.
(Richard) You can't say snakes
aren't beautiful when you see that one.
Thanks to Richard, I'm within
five feet of a venomous viper.
Fantastic view.
I never dreamt I'd get that close.
You could get closer,
but there's no point in disturbing her
and we get a perfectly good view
from here.
She's a lovely animal.
As I say goodbye, I'm glad that things
have changed since Bradshaw's day.
My snake hunt led me
to appreciate nature, not destroy it.
Building this line through
the New Forest was a real challenge.
Some sections of the railway
were even supported on wooden stilts
to stop the track
from sinking into the bog below.
Thanks to that effort, we now have
this superb view of romantic wilderness.
- Mind if I join you for a second?
- Not at all.
I can't help noticing
how beautiful this countryside is.
- (woman) Gorgeous.
- Do you go through it every day?
I don't, actually. This is the first
and only journey I'll be making for work
and I'm a bit gutted
I've got a company car.
But I do come down
to the New Forest quite a lot.
So normally you would drive
but today you're on the train.
Today I'm on the train.
I'm picking up a new car.
It does make you think,
why do we bother with cars?
- It's lovely.
- It's wonderful.
When you're a passenger,
- you can enjoy it completely.
- Exactly.
I'm on my way to Bournemouth.
To my surprise,
I've had to switch guidebooks.
The Bradshaw's Guide I normally use
is from the mid-1860s.
I looked up Bournemouth
and it's not there,
which means
it didn't yet have a railway.
Isn't that incredible for a town
which is now so big?
So I'm using a more recent Bradshaw's
from the 1880s.
It says that "Bournemouth is
a fashionable, modern watering place
and winter residence. It's situated
in a beautiful sheltered spot
in the chine of low chalk cliffs."
"It's much resorted to by invalids
for its healthy situation
and quiet retirement."
I used to go there
for a completely different reason.
For me, Bournemouth
will forever be synonymous
with party political conferences.
But coming as part of
an invasion of politicians,
I've rarely had the chance
to appreciate Bournemouth's charms.
With seven miles of sandy beaches
and a Victorian pier,
it's easy to see why five million people
visit this busy resort every year.
Remarkably, all this
is only 200 years old.
To hear how this town
popped up from nowhere,
I'm meeting historian Andrew Emery
in the Pleasure Gardens.
- Andrew, very good to see you.
- Good to see you, too.
It's surprising to me how late
the railway gets to Bournemouth,
considering what a big place it is now.
Not till the 1870s.
What's happening during the 19th
century, before the railway gets here?
If you go back 250 years ago,
this was nothing but barren heathland.
No trees. Quite a few smugglers, though.
This was a popular smuggling path
down from the beach over there.
Then around about 1800,
the land owners at the time
planted this whole area with pine trees.
Early in the 19th century,
a few wealthy families
spotted Bournemouth's potential
as a fine spot to relax.
They planted Scots and Mediterranean
pines to enhance the scenery,
creating tranquillity and beauty
that powerfully attracted tourists.
It's really down to this gentleman,
Dr Granville,
who wrote a book about
the famous spa towns of England.
He visits in the 1840s.
He sees the opportunities to develop
this into a fantastic resort.
He thinks this could be
the best resort in the country
and also quotes that the emanations
from the pines
have real fantastic
health-giving qualities to them.
Dr Granville's guides
did for health resorts
what Bradshaw's did for the railways.
Within 40 years,
Bournemouth had mushroomed
from a village of a few hundred people
to a town of around 17,000.
That wasn't the end of the story.
Up until the 1870s, the town was really
just about an invalids' spa resort.
But from the late 1870s, 1880s onwards,
the railway comes,
you get the middle classes
and working classes,
and the town starts to change
into a popular seaside resort
full of all the attractions
that you see today.
Although Bournemouth has long lost
its reputation as a health resort,
you can still take a stroll
through the so-called Invalids" Walk.
Here, Victorians sought relief from the
strain of living in smoke-filled cities.
I came here today on the train.
Let's suppose I'm a Victorian gentleman
with poor lungs.
I take a long walk along here, do I?
Absolutely. This was the place
to promenade, to breathe in the pines.
Nice and shady as well in places,
so you're not going to get sunburnt.
This is the place to meet people.
- Did it do me any good?
- Absolutely.
This climate, fantastic for the health.
Possibly not breathing in the pines.
Modern medicine would probably
dispute the medicinal value of that.
But nevertheless, good for the health.
Hundreds of years later, the pines
are still important to Bournemouth.
(Andrew) Absolutely.
They feature on the crest of the town.
A lot of these pines
are the original ones
that have been on this site
for over 150 years.
So the pines have really kept
Bournemouth spruce!
Absolutely.
Thanks to the railway,
investment poured into Bournemouth.
By the mid 20th century, the empty
heathland was a distant memory,
replaced by a highly developed resort.
Paths zig-zagged down
the dramatic cliffs to the beach,
and the droves of tourists
could enjoy all the trappings
of a classic seaside holiday.
I cant wait to try out one of the first
attractions enjoyed by visitors.
- Hello.
- (man) Hi.
- A single to the top, please.
- That's £1.20, please.
Thank you very much.
In the 19th century, as tourism boomed,
so began a fascination
for funicular railways,
which let Victorian tourists admire
the view without breaking a sweat.
Whoa! Off we go.
Bournemouth didn't get this one
unfit 1908,
but it's still the best way
to scale the 40-meter cliff.
It's simple but effective technology.
Two cars move at once,
balancing each others weight.
The beach recedes incredibly quickly.
It's only a 30- or 40-second journey,
but that's not the point, really.
It's the journey you avoid.
It's how long it would have taken you
to walk to the top.
What a view, what a day.
Short, but very definitely sweet.
From the top I get the most fantastic
view over Bournemouth's piers
and out towards the white cliffs
of the Isle of Wight.
I call that a pretty good £1.20's worth.
This clifftop walk holds a special place
in my memory for another reason.
In party conference days,
when I was here,
the government stays
at the hotel at the top of the hill
and they have to go down
to the conference centre every morning.
So toing and froing along here
you've got all the members of the
cabinet walking backwards and forwards.
You got Margaret Thatcher
in her armour-plated car.
You've got John Major
in his armour-plated car.
For the few days
of the party conference,
this is the corridor of power.
Bournemouth's sea air has done its job
and I'm ready to find my bed
for tonight.
We made a beeline
for the grand Victorian buildings
up on Bournemouth's East CI/ff.
As so often,
I've turned to my Bradshaw's
for a recommendation of where to stay.
The Bath, now known as the Royal Bath.
In fact, I didn't need Bradshaw because
I've been to many a good party here,
which I can just about remember.
This was Bournemouth's first hotel.
It opened on the very day
that Queen Victoria was crowned.
Ever since then its been hosting
the great and the good.
Well, very lovely room.
Oh, my goodness.
"In this room Lord Beaconsfield,
when prime minister,
held three cabinet councils
in the winter of 1874-5."
And "Lord John Russell, prime minister,
occupied this room."
Wow.
As a former future prime minister,
I feel really honoured to be staying
in this room. That's fantastic.
- Eggs Benedict with bacon.
- Thank you very much.
- Enjoy your breakfast.
- Thank you. It looks lovely.
For me, summer in England
has really arrived
when you can have all your meals,
breakfast, lunch and dinner, outside.
What better place to try that
than Bournemouth?
And what better light
in which to read the small print
of my Bradshaw's Guide?
Following my guidebook,
I'm now continuing my journey
into Bradshaw's Dorsetshire.
I'm heading five miles up the track
towards my next stop.
I'm on my way to Wimborne, but it
doesn't have a railway station any more.
I'm only going as far as Poole,
I'm afraid, sir.
Unfortunately,
I can't go all the way by rail.
Well, this is not Wimborne,
but Parkstone.
There used to be a Wimborne Station,
it's in my Bradshaw's Guide.
But unfortunately, it was a victim
of the Beeching cuts in the 1960s,
so this is as far
as the train will take me.
The Beeching Report into
the profitability of Britain's railways
was published in 1963.
In the decade that followed,
over 4,000 miles of track
and thousands of stations were closed.
Wimborne Minster station was a victim.
In Bradshaw's time, it was a busy
junction on the main line to London.
But as nearby Bournemouth grew, more
direct routes to the coast were built,
and its importance declined.
Today, this small market town
is famous for its 900-year-old church.
And its impressive model village.
But I'm here to see the real thing.
I've never been to Wimborne before,
and this minster is absolutely glorious.
It's so ancient and perfect
and I love the way
that it sits in this green
so that you can get a real view of it.
It's perfect.
My guidebook writes, "The minster is
a most interesting relic of antiquity,
said to have been erected
between the years 705 and 723."
“The whole building
has a cathedral-like appearance."
And the interior is just as beautiful.
It dates back to Norman times,
because the Saxon building referred to
in my guide was destroyed.
As Bradshaw says, it's cathedral-like.
Absolutely.
I'm intrigued by a another line
in my 19th-century guide.
In the vestry
are some curious chained books.
To find out more,
I'm climbing a GOO-year-old staircase
to meet librarian Frank Tandy.
- Frank, hello.
- Hello.
My Bradshaw's talks about
"curious old chained books".
I see some of them are chained.
Why was a book chained?
(Frank) To ensure they're always here.
In the 15th century, 16th century,
books were rather expensive.
Universities and cathedrals
couldn't afford
to allow the books to be taken away
because they might not come back.
To buy a small book like that,
The Gentleman's Companion,
for instance,
was, in today's money, about £350.
- No!
- Yes.
Every time you bought a book, it was
like buying a widescreen television.
- (Frank) Yes.
- Amazing.
This library was founded during the
religious upheavals of the 17th century.
An Oxford scholar, the Reverend Stone,
after being condemned as a Catholic,
donated his library of religious works
to the church.
These were regarded
as dangerous Catholic texts.
(Frank) Yes.
The Reverend Stone sent them here
because he knew they'd be safe.
Nobody in Wimborne could read.
So they wouldn't know
whether they were seditious or not.
They were all in Greek,
Hebrew and Latin anyway.
These books are here purely by chance.
After ten years they were still
being described in this town
as "a musty divinity".
The collection grew
from that initial bequest,
and today includes
extraordinarily rare works
including this 14th-century
priest's handbook.
- (Michael) This is your oldest book?
- (Frank) Yes, it is.
This book was written in 1343.
It's written on 80 calfskins.
- (Michael) Calfskins?
- (Frank) Calfskin. Not lambskin.
- But not paper.
- No. Paper wasn't invented.
This is vellum.
There are only two other copies
of this in existence.
What else can you show me?
This book was bound by
King Henry 'Jill's bookbinder.
King Henry VIII?
(Frank) Yes. This is a binding
showing the Passion. Difficult to see.
(Michael) It's exquisite.
Of your more recent books,
what should I see?
Sir Walter Raleigh's
History of the World." In Five Books.
- Here it is.
- (Michael) Literally priceless.
(Frank) It is beyond price.
From early days, anyone was free
to come here and read the works,
making this one of Britain's
first public libraries.
I can see why my "Bradshaw's Guide"
singled out this remarkable collection,
but I can't help noticing
there's something unusual
about the way it's arranged.
It's interesting that
the chained books appear to be put in,
as I would think of it,
the wrong way around.
(Frank)
No, this is the right way around.
A library like this, that's
the correct way for the books to be,
because what you did was you wrote
the number on the book.
Or you wrote the title on the book
on the fore-edge.
Children will tell you,
Hogwarts Hall Library, Harry Potter,
- that's how the books are.
- The books are the wrong way around.
- They're the right way around.
- The right way around.
For once, my 19th-century
"Bradshaw's Guide" seems very young.
After my literary adventure, I'm picking
up the train again at Parkstone.
- Thank you.
- All yours.
- Lots of bicycles today.
- Yes. Always lots of bikes.
(laughs) Have fun.
I'm on my way to my last stop
on this leg of the journey.
I'm approaching Poole.
My Bradshaw's says,
rather half-heartedly,
"a comparatively modern town
that has always preserved
a respectable position
as a third- or fourth-class port."
At one time, Poole Harbour
was an important trading post.
But by the 19th century,
it had begun to decline.
The railway,
which reached Poole in 1847,
accelerated the harbour's downfall
by offering a faster, cheaper
alternative to coastal shipping.
Luckily for Poole, though, the trains
also brought new opportunities.
Bradshaw's comments that
one of the chief exports from Poole
is potter's clay from Purbeck,
"of so good quality that it's proposed
to establish potteries here
on a great scale, especially as the
transit of coal is now easy and direct."
So Bradshaw's foreseeing that
with the railways bringing coal,
Poole could have a big new industry.
"Bradshaw's" was right.
Around the time
the railways arrived here,
potteries were springing up
all around Poole.
They specialised in bricks,
tiles and pipes,
and even produced
some of the first modem loos.
As Victorian Britain boomed,
demand surged.
The town was soon criss-crossed
by private sidings.
Trains brought in coal
to fire the kilns
and helped to export
Poole's ceramics across the globe.
Unfortunately, by the second nah'
of the 20th century,
most of the potteries had closed
due to foreign competition.
We come to see
one of the few that remain.
- Hello, Alan.
- Hello, Michael.
No? Alright.
Alan White is the head potter.
I see you're making a lovely pot there.
Yes, hopefully.
What is it that's special
about Poole Pottery?
Basically, the unique quality
of the clay that's within the area.
Mostly in the Purbecks
and in and around Poole.
It was shipped all over the world.
It was always brought
to the boats by rail.
There are two jetties
on the far side of the harbour
which brought the clay to the jetties
and then it would have been put into
boats and gone all over the world,
and especially to Stoke,
which is the home of pottery in England.
So it was vastly important.
What brought you into making pots?
Women. Girls.
I'm afraid it was girls.
I went to a segregated school and
you weren't allowed to cross the line
onto the girls' side
without getting detention.
But the ceramic block
was on the girls' side,
behind the domestic science block.
So all the boys volunteered
to go to pottery
because they wanted to ogle the girls.
But I fell in love with pottery
and none of the girls at the time.
This pottery began
as a tile manufacturer in 1873
but by the 20th century
had moved into hand-thrown pots.
Its heyday was the 1920s and 30s,
when its Art Deco designs
were sold in every town in Britain.
Watching you with your clay
on your potter's wheel, I'm speechless.
I'm like a person watching
a magic trick. Just unbelievable.
(Alan) I've been doing it
nearly 45 years,
so it's not really magic.
It's the culmination of
quite a lot of hard work, really.
(chuckles) But it is lovely.
I thoroughly enjoy it.
I've always enjoyed getting on the wheel
and making pots.
It's something that I shall
never stop doing, I don't think.
In fact, I'll probably end up
making my own urn
and putting me in the furnace
to get rid of me at the end of it.
So... we'll see.
In Victorian times, as the spending
power of the middle classes grew,
decorative pottery in Britain
became hugely fashionable.
Potters created
ever more colourful glazes.
Painter Nikki Massarella
carries on the tradition.
What's the technique? I see here
things in various stages of preparation.
This one, what's happened here is I've
carved in the veins of the dragonfly,
as you can see. Then I've got to paint
the blue on, which I'm going to do next.
When it's fired
it'll come out like that one.
This pink that you can see here
is actually the red glaze.
If I didn't paint anything on it,
it would come out red like that.
- Really?
- Yes.
I paint all the other colours on top.
When that's fired, it'll change to that.
(Michael) How long does it take you
to produce one pot?
It probably takes about ten, 15 minutes.
(Michael) How could you do that
in ten minutes?
When you do lots,
you go into piecework mode.
You do all the leaves and then all
the rings, so it makes it a lot quicker.
Nikki is letting me loose
with a paintbrush.
But I'm not sure I'll match her speed.
I've drawn them in for you
so they're nice and easy.
Yes, that's nice and easy.
This is just like a child
filling in the...
- Then what colour will that come out?
- This'll come out blue.
(Michael) This is not easy.
Oh! Horrid crooked line there.
I think I might hand back to you there.
I've done two little leaves.
- Over to you.
- Thank you.
(both laugh)
- "Thanks for nothing."
- I'll fill it in.
Such things
are best left to professionals.
Thank goodness that the skills
of the Poole potters are not extinct.
My guidebook has often led me
to discover how,
in Victorian times,
the combination of railways and coal
led to the development of new industries
as it did with the potteries
here in Poole.
But it also led me to the colourful
character of Brusher Mills
and my own encounter
with poisonous snakes.
Really, Bradshaw's
never ceases to amaze me.
On the final stretch of this journey,
I'll be uncovering a hidden industry
with Victorian roots...
- That is an oil field?
- (woman) Yes.
Stretching all the way past Poole,
beneath Bournemouth, way under the sea.
Admiring a historic castle
catapulted to fame by the railways...
Wow. That is fanta... That is fantastic.
The most romantic ruin.
And discovering Weymouth's role
in the D-Day landings.
They would let us have a go at the gun,
me and my mate.
- How old were you?
- I was about ten years old.
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 over halfway through my journey
tracing the railways impact
on the south of England.
Today I'm continuing my route
towards what my Bradshaw's Guide
calls Dorsetshire.
Today's journey takes me through the
beautiful landscape of the New Forest.
The railways enabled
Victorian tourists en masse
to visit and experience
this distant wilderness,
and helped Victorian industry
to exploit nature's gifts.
On this stage of the journey,
I'll be slithering in the tracks
of a Victorian snake catcher...
Fantastic view.
I never dreamt I'd get that close.
Uncovering a secret library
described in my “Bradshaw's Guide“...
- This is your oldest book?
- Yes, it is.
(man) Only two other copies exist.
And taking one of
my shortest ever railway journeys.
Whoa! Off we go.
So far We discovered how royalty,
industry and agriculture alike
were transformed by train travel.
Now I'm exploring this regions
stunning coastline,
as I approach my final stop
on the Isle of Portland.
On this stretch I'll pass through
the New Forest National Park,
stopping off at Bournemouth
on my way to the harbour town of Poole.
(tannoy)
We are now arriving into Brockenhurst.
(Michael) The Victorians
were fascinated by nature
and the railway
helped make the New Forest
a hot spot
for botanists and insect collectors.
This is Brockenhurst.
My Bradshaw's Guide says,
"This station
is most exquisitely situated
amidst the charming scenery
of the New Forest." And so it is.
And the railways transformed it
from a very small village
into something of a resort.
But intriguingly, many Victorians
came here not in search of wildlife,
but in search of a particularly
charismatic individual.
Brockenhurst Station opened in 1847
and was soon bringing visitors
eager to meet the New Forests
outstanding celebrity.
I've come to the village churchyard
to hear the story from local historian
Richard Reeves.
- Richard.
- How are you?
- What a wonderful place.
- Yes.
A very intriguing tombstone.
Why are we meeting by this one'?
This tombstone here
is that of Harry Mills.
He was a Victorian snake catcher.
Bit of an odd occupation,
but it made him one of the most famous
Victorian characters in the New Forest.
He lived in a small charcoal burner's
hut in the forest for 19 years.
As a hermit and a snake catcher,
he was not your standard human being.
As Britain became increasingly urbanised
in the 19th century,
there was a huge appetite
for news of the natural world.
In the 1880s, a visitor
who joined Harry Mills on a snake hunt
wrote it up in the national press.
Soon, people were arriving by train
to see him for themselves.
What kind of things did he do
that made him a character,
that made him
kind of a tourist attraction?
One of the things he would do was,
as tourists arrived in the forest,
he'd walk up
and surreptitiously drop a snake
and everyone would panic and run around.
He would walk up, catch the snake
and doff his hat and, you know,
"Spare a shilling'?",
and safely stow the snake away.
As well as bringing tourists
to gawp at this fearless snake catcher,
the new railway also enabled Harry
Mills to set up a lucrative sideline,
sending live snakes by rail
to the capital.
He then became supplier
to the snake house in London Zoo.
They required
a good supply of live snakes
to feed the snake-eating snakes
in their collections.
He was getting a shilling a head
for every snake he caught.
In fact, on one particular occasion,
he'd done a good job on catching adders.
He usually supplied grass snakes,
which are non-venomous,
but one month he had 76 adders
and he decided to pack them off.
They sent a note back saying,
"We'd rather you didn't send those
any more because they bite."
So after that
he could only send grass snakes.
Was he bitten, do you know
Yes, he was bitten a couple of times.
He does state that it was his own fault.
But he used to boil the adders up
and extract their fat
and he swore by that
as an effective remedy for a snake bite,
which he also sold locally
as a cure-all,
one of those classic Victorian lotions
which would sort anything,
from a black eye to adder bite.
Amazingly, Harry Mills killed
around 30,000 snakes in his lifetime.
These days, mercifully,
they're protected by law.
Richards become
a modem-day snake hunter.
He's interested in conserving, not
destroying, the local adder population,
but uses the same skills
to track them down.
(Richard) When I come out here,
I'm taking photographs,
identifying the individuals, and thereby
I'm able to monitor the population,
to make sure it's doing OK.
- And it is doing OK?
- This one is doing perfectly well.
In a lot of areas around the country,
they're declining due to habitat loss.
Searching for adders
can be hit and miss,
but Richard knows exactly where to look.
(Richard) You should look around
the bottom edges of these bushes.
You see there? Nice ginger adder.
- Beautiful female.
- I can. That is beautiful.
(Michael) She's very gingery.
Really quite bright colours.
(Richard) You can't say snakes
aren't beautiful when you see that one.
Thanks to Richard, I'm within
five feet of a venomous viper.
Fantastic view.
I never dreamt I'd get that close.
You could get closer,
but there's no point in disturbing her
and we get a perfectly good view
from here.
She's a lovely animal.
As I say goodbye, I'm glad that things
have changed since Bradshaw's day.
My snake hunt led me
to appreciate nature, not destroy it.
Building this line through
the New Forest was a real challenge.
Some sections of the railway
were even supported on wooden stilts
to stop the track
from sinking into the bog below.
Thanks to that effort, we now have
this superb view of romantic wilderness.
- Mind if I join you for a second?
- Not at all.
I can't help noticing
how beautiful this countryside is.
- (woman) Gorgeous.
- Do you go through it every day?
I don't, actually. This is the first
and only journey I'll be making for work
and I'm a bit gutted
I've got a company car.
But I do come down
to the New Forest quite a lot.
So normally you would drive
but today you're on the train.
Today I'm on the train.
I'm picking up a new car.
It does make you think,
why do we bother with cars?
- It's lovely.
- It's wonderful.
When you're a passenger,
- you can enjoy it completely.
- Exactly.
I'm on my way to Bournemouth.
To my surprise,
I've had to switch guidebooks.
The Bradshaw's Guide I normally use
is from the mid-1860s.
I looked up Bournemouth
and it's not there,
which means
it didn't yet have a railway.
Isn't that incredible for a town
which is now so big?
So I'm using a more recent Bradshaw's
from the 1880s.
It says that "Bournemouth is
a fashionable, modern watering place
and winter residence. It's situated
in a beautiful sheltered spot
in the chine of low chalk cliffs."
"It's much resorted to by invalids
for its healthy situation
and quiet retirement."
I used to go there
for a completely different reason.
For me, Bournemouth
will forever be synonymous
with party political conferences.
But coming as part of
an invasion of politicians,
I've rarely had the chance
to appreciate Bournemouth's charms.
With seven miles of sandy beaches
and a Victorian pier,
it's easy to see why five million people
visit this busy resort every year.
Remarkably, all this
is only 200 years old.
To hear how this town
popped up from nowhere,
I'm meeting historian Andrew Emery
in the Pleasure Gardens.
- Andrew, very good to see you.
- Good to see you, too.
It's surprising to me how late
the railway gets to Bournemouth,
considering what a big place it is now.
Not till the 1870s.
What's happening during the 19th
century, before the railway gets here?
If you go back 250 years ago,
this was nothing but barren heathland.
No trees. Quite a few smugglers, though.
This was a popular smuggling path
down from the beach over there.
Then around about 1800,
the land owners at the time
planted this whole area with pine trees.
Early in the 19th century,
a few wealthy families
spotted Bournemouth's potential
as a fine spot to relax.
They planted Scots and Mediterranean
pines to enhance the scenery,
creating tranquillity and beauty
that powerfully attracted tourists.
It's really down to this gentleman,
Dr Granville,
who wrote a book about
the famous spa towns of England.
He visits in the 1840s.
He sees the opportunities to develop
this into a fantastic resort.
He thinks this could be
the best resort in the country
and also quotes that the emanations
from the pines
have real fantastic
health-giving qualities to them.
Dr Granville's guides
did for health resorts
what Bradshaw's did for the railways.
Within 40 years,
Bournemouth had mushroomed
from a village of a few hundred people
to a town of around 17,000.
That wasn't the end of the story.
Up until the 1870s, the town was really
just about an invalids' spa resort.
But from the late 1870s, 1880s onwards,
the railway comes,
you get the middle classes
and working classes,
and the town starts to change
into a popular seaside resort
full of all the attractions
that you see today.
Although Bournemouth has long lost
its reputation as a health resort,
you can still take a stroll
through the so-called Invalids" Walk.
Here, Victorians sought relief from the
strain of living in smoke-filled cities.
I came here today on the train.
Let's suppose I'm a Victorian gentleman
with poor lungs.
I take a long walk along here, do I?
Absolutely. This was the place
to promenade, to breathe in the pines.
Nice and shady as well in places,
so you're not going to get sunburnt.
This is the place to meet people.
- Did it do me any good?
- Absolutely.
This climate, fantastic for the health.
Possibly not breathing in the pines.
Modern medicine would probably
dispute the medicinal value of that.
But nevertheless, good for the health.
Hundreds of years later, the pines
are still important to Bournemouth.
(Andrew) Absolutely.
They feature on the crest of the town.
A lot of these pines
are the original ones
that have been on this site
for over 150 years.
So the pines have really kept
Bournemouth spruce!
Absolutely.
Thanks to the railway,
investment poured into Bournemouth.
By the mid 20th century, the empty
heathland was a distant memory,
replaced by a highly developed resort.
Paths zig-zagged down
the dramatic cliffs to the beach,
and the droves of tourists
could enjoy all the trappings
of a classic seaside holiday.
I cant wait to try out one of the first
attractions enjoyed by visitors.
- Hello.
- (man) Hi.
- A single to the top, please.
- That's £1.20, please.
Thank you very much.
In the 19th century, as tourism boomed,
so began a fascination
for funicular railways,
which let Victorian tourists admire
the view without breaking a sweat.
Whoa! Off we go.
Bournemouth didn't get this one
unfit 1908,
but it's still the best way
to scale the 40-meter cliff.
It's simple but effective technology.
Two cars move at once,
balancing each others weight.
The beach recedes incredibly quickly.
It's only a 30- or 40-second journey,
but that's not the point, really.
It's the journey you avoid.
It's how long it would have taken you
to walk to the top.
What a view, what a day.
Short, but very definitely sweet.
From the top I get the most fantastic
view over Bournemouth's piers
and out towards the white cliffs
of the Isle of Wight.
I call that a pretty good £1.20's worth.
This clifftop walk holds a special place
in my memory for another reason.
In party conference days,
when I was here,
the government stays
at the hotel at the top of the hill
and they have to go down
to the conference centre every morning.
So toing and froing along here
you've got all the members of the
cabinet walking backwards and forwards.
You got Margaret Thatcher
in her armour-plated car.
You've got John Major
in his armour-plated car.
For the few days
of the party conference,
this is the corridor of power.
Bournemouth's sea air has done its job
and I'm ready to find my bed
for tonight.
We made a beeline
for the grand Victorian buildings
up on Bournemouth's East CI/ff.
As so often,
I've turned to my Bradshaw's
for a recommendation of where to stay.
The Bath, now known as the Royal Bath.
In fact, I didn't need Bradshaw because
I've been to many a good party here,
which I can just about remember.
This was Bournemouth's first hotel.
It opened on the very day
that Queen Victoria was crowned.
Ever since then its been hosting
the great and the good.
Well, very lovely room.
Oh, my goodness.
"In this room Lord Beaconsfield,
when prime minister,
held three cabinet councils
in the winter of 1874-5."
And "Lord John Russell, prime minister,
occupied this room."
Wow.
As a former future prime minister,
I feel really honoured to be staying
in this room. That's fantastic.
- Eggs Benedict with bacon.
- Thank you very much.
- Enjoy your breakfast.
- Thank you. It looks lovely.
For me, summer in England
has really arrived
when you can have all your meals,
breakfast, lunch and dinner, outside.
What better place to try that
than Bournemouth?
And what better light
in which to read the small print
of my Bradshaw's Guide?
Following my guidebook,
I'm now continuing my journey
into Bradshaw's Dorsetshire.
I'm heading five miles up the track
towards my next stop.
I'm on my way to Wimborne, but it
doesn't have a railway station any more.
I'm only going as far as Poole,
I'm afraid, sir.
Unfortunately,
I can't go all the way by rail.
Well, this is not Wimborne,
but Parkstone.
There used to be a Wimborne Station,
it's in my Bradshaw's Guide.
But unfortunately, it was a victim
of the Beeching cuts in the 1960s,
so this is as far
as the train will take me.
The Beeching Report into
the profitability of Britain's railways
was published in 1963.
In the decade that followed,
over 4,000 miles of track
and thousands of stations were closed.
Wimborne Minster station was a victim.
In Bradshaw's time, it was a busy
junction on the main line to London.
But as nearby Bournemouth grew, more
direct routes to the coast were built,
and its importance declined.
Today, this small market town
is famous for its 900-year-old church.
And its impressive model village.
But I'm here to see the real thing.
I've never been to Wimborne before,
and this minster is absolutely glorious.
It's so ancient and perfect
and I love the way
that it sits in this green
so that you can get a real view of it.
It's perfect.
My guidebook writes, "The minster is
a most interesting relic of antiquity,
said to have been erected
between the years 705 and 723."
“The whole building
has a cathedral-like appearance."
And the interior is just as beautiful.
It dates back to Norman times,
because the Saxon building referred to
in my guide was destroyed.
As Bradshaw says, it's cathedral-like.
Absolutely.
I'm intrigued by a another line
in my 19th-century guide.
In the vestry
are some curious chained books.
To find out more,
I'm climbing a GOO-year-old staircase
to meet librarian Frank Tandy.
- Frank, hello.
- Hello.
My Bradshaw's talks about
"curious old chained books".
I see some of them are chained.
Why was a book chained?
(Frank) To ensure they're always here.
In the 15th century, 16th century,
books were rather expensive.
Universities and cathedrals
couldn't afford
to allow the books to be taken away
because they might not come back.
To buy a small book like that,
The Gentleman's Companion,
for instance,
was, in today's money, about £350.
- No!
- Yes.
Every time you bought a book, it was
like buying a widescreen television.
- (Frank) Yes.
- Amazing.
This library was founded during the
religious upheavals of the 17th century.
An Oxford scholar, the Reverend Stone,
after being condemned as a Catholic,
donated his library of religious works
to the church.
These were regarded
as dangerous Catholic texts.
(Frank) Yes.
The Reverend Stone sent them here
because he knew they'd be safe.
Nobody in Wimborne could read.
So they wouldn't know
whether they were seditious or not.
They were all in Greek,
Hebrew and Latin anyway.
These books are here purely by chance.
After ten years they were still
being described in this town
as "a musty divinity".
The collection grew
from that initial bequest,
and today includes
extraordinarily rare works
including this 14th-century
priest's handbook.
- (Michael) This is your oldest book?
- (Frank) Yes, it is.
This book was written in 1343.
It's written on 80 calfskins.
- (Michael) Calfskins?
- (Frank) Calfskin. Not lambskin.
- But not paper.
- No. Paper wasn't invented.
This is vellum.
There are only two other copies
of this in existence.
What else can you show me?
This book was bound by
King Henry 'Jill's bookbinder.
King Henry VIII?
(Frank) Yes. This is a binding
showing the Passion. Difficult to see.
(Michael) It's exquisite.
Of your more recent books,
what should I see?
Sir Walter Raleigh's
History of the World." In Five Books.
- Here it is.
- (Michael) Literally priceless.
(Frank) It is beyond price.
From early days, anyone was free
to come here and read the works,
making this one of Britain's
first public libraries.
I can see why my "Bradshaw's Guide"
singled out this remarkable collection,
but I can't help noticing
there's something unusual
about the way it's arranged.
It's interesting that
the chained books appear to be put in,
as I would think of it,
the wrong way around.
(Frank)
No, this is the right way around.
A library like this, that's
the correct way for the books to be,
because what you did was you wrote
the number on the book.
Or you wrote the title on the book
on the fore-edge.
Children will tell you,
Hogwarts Hall Library, Harry Potter,
- that's how the books are.
- The books are the wrong way around.
- They're the right way around.
- The right way around.
For once, my 19th-century
"Bradshaw's Guide" seems very young.
After my literary adventure, I'm picking
up the train again at Parkstone.
- Thank you.
- All yours.
- Lots of bicycles today.
- Yes. Always lots of bikes.
(laughs) Have fun.
I'm on my way to my last stop
on this leg of the journey.
I'm approaching Poole.
My Bradshaw's says,
rather half-heartedly,
"a comparatively modern town
that has always preserved
a respectable position
as a third- or fourth-class port."
At one time, Poole Harbour
was an important trading post.
But by the 19th century,
it had begun to decline.
The railway,
which reached Poole in 1847,
accelerated the harbour's downfall
by offering a faster, cheaper
alternative to coastal shipping.
Luckily for Poole, though, the trains
also brought new opportunities.
Bradshaw's comments that
one of the chief exports from Poole
is potter's clay from Purbeck,
"of so good quality that it's proposed
to establish potteries here
on a great scale, especially as the
transit of coal is now easy and direct."
So Bradshaw's foreseeing that
with the railways bringing coal,
Poole could have a big new industry.
"Bradshaw's" was right.
Around the time
the railways arrived here,
potteries were springing up
all around Poole.
They specialised in bricks,
tiles and pipes,
and even produced
some of the first modem loos.
As Victorian Britain boomed,
demand surged.
The town was soon criss-crossed
by private sidings.
Trains brought in coal
to fire the kilns
and helped to export
Poole's ceramics across the globe.
Unfortunately, by the second nah'
of the 20th century,
most of the potteries had closed
due to foreign competition.
We come to see
one of the few that remain.
- Hello, Alan.
- Hello, Michael.
No? Alright.
Alan White is the head potter.
I see you're making a lovely pot there.
Yes, hopefully.
What is it that's special
about Poole Pottery?
Basically, the unique quality
of the clay that's within the area.
Mostly in the Purbecks
and in and around Poole.
It was shipped all over the world.
It was always brought
to the boats by rail.
There are two jetties
on the far side of the harbour
which brought the clay to the jetties
and then it would have been put into
boats and gone all over the world,
and especially to Stoke,
which is the home of pottery in England.
So it was vastly important.
What brought you into making pots?
Women. Girls.
I'm afraid it was girls.
I went to a segregated school and
you weren't allowed to cross the line
onto the girls' side
without getting detention.
But the ceramic block
was on the girls' side,
behind the domestic science block.
So all the boys volunteered
to go to pottery
because they wanted to ogle the girls.
But I fell in love with pottery
and none of the girls at the time.
This pottery began
as a tile manufacturer in 1873
but by the 20th century
had moved into hand-thrown pots.
Its heyday was the 1920s and 30s,
when its Art Deco designs
were sold in every town in Britain.
Watching you with your clay
on your potter's wheel, I'm speechless.
I'm like a person watching
a magic trick. Just unbelievable.
(Alan) I've been doing it
nearly 45 years,
so it's not really magic.
It's the culmination of
quite a lot of hard work, really.
(chuckles) But it is lovely.
I thoroughly enjoy it.
I've always enjoyed getting on the wheel
and making pots.
It's something that I shall
never stop doing, I don't think.
In fact, I'll probably end up
making my own urn
and putting me in the furnace
to get rid of me at the end of it.
So... we'll see.
In Victorian times, as the spending
power of the middle classes grew,
decorative pottery in Britain
became hugely fashionable.
Potters created
ever more colourful glazes.
Painter Nikki Massarella
carries on the tradition.
What's the technique? I see here
things in various stages of preparation.
This one, what's happened here is I've
carved in the veins of the dragonfly,
as you can see. Then I've got to paint
the blue on, which I'm going to do next.
When it's fired
it'll come out like that one.
This pink that you can see here
is actually the red glaze.
If I didn't paint anything on it,
it would come out red like that.
- Really?
- Yes.
I paint all the other colours on top.
When that's fired, it'll change to that.
(Michael) How long does it take you
to produce one pot?
It probably takes about ten, 15 minutes.
(Michael) How could you do that
in ten minutes?
When you do lots,
you go into piecework mode.
You do all the leaves and then all
the rings, so it makes it a lot quicker.
Nikki is letting me loose
with a paintbrush.
But I'm not sure I'll match her speed.
I've drawn them in for you
so they're nice and easy.
Yes, that's nice and easy.
This is just like a child
filling in the...
- Then what colour will that come out?
- This'll come out blue.
(Michael) This is not easy.
Oh! Horrid crooked line there.
I think I might hand back to you there.
I've done two little leaves.
- Over to you.
- Thank you.
(both laugh)
- "Thanks for nothing."
- I'll fill it in.
Such things
are best left to professionals.
Thank goodness that the skills
of the Poole potters are not extinct.
My guidebook has often led me
to discover how,
in Victorian times,
the combination of railways and coal
led to the development of new industries
as it did with the potteries
here in Poole.
But it also led me to the colourful
character of Brusher Mills
and my own encounter
with poisonous snakes.
Really, Bradshaw's
never ceases to amaze me.
On the final stretch of this journey,
I'll be uncovering a hidden industry
with Victorian roots...
- That is an oil field?
- (woman) Yes.
Stretching all the way past Poole,
beneath Bournemouth, way under the sea.
Admiring a historic castle
catapulted to fame by the railways...
Wow. That is fanta... That is fantastic.
The most romantic ruin.
And discovering Weymouth's role
in the D-Day landings.
They would let us have a go at the gun,
me and my mate.
- How old were you?
- I was about ten years old.