Great British Railway Journeys (2010–…): Season 3, Episode 21 - Bray to Dublin - full transcript
In 1840, one man transformed
travel in Britain and Ireland.
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 these islands
to see what of Bradshaw's world remains.
My trusty Bradshaw's Guide
has already led me
on delightful journeys
throughout England, Scotland and Wales.
But now, for the first time,
I've crossed the Irish sea,
for when Bradshaw's Descriptive Railway
Handbook of Great Britain and Ireland
was published in the 1860s,
Britain and Ireland were a single state.
And now I'm set to explore
a whole new island of railway stories.
On this leg, I'll be exploring
a daring feat of engineering,
built by the father of Irish railways...
So now I see the first
of these remarkable tunnels ahead.
We're going to plunge
straight through the rock.
Visiting a Victorian prison
that played host to railway criminals...
There was a child here
of nine years of age
for playing marbles on a train
and annoying passengers.
And hearing how even animals embraced
train travel in the age of steam...
The giraffe was far too tall in its can
to get under each bridge,
so they created a padded sliding roof
and as it approached each bridge,
the sliding roof gently closed.
This long journey begins near Dublin,
where this island's railways were born,
then follows their expansion northwards.
Crossing into Northern Ireland, I'll
explore Belfast’s industrial heritage
before experiencing the stunning coast,
finishing up in Derry/Londonderry.
This stretch covers 17 miles,
passing through the rocky outcrop
of Bray Head on my way to Dublin
where I'll explore railways
that radiate from the city.
I'm starting on a breathtaking tine
that skirts the east coast
between Wicklow and Dublin.
I'm looking forward to seeing
both the Republic and Northern Ireland
through the eyes
of a 19th-century travel writer.
My Bradshaw's is enthusiastic
about the landscape,
saying that
"particularly on the sea coast,
it assumes a splendid variety
of scenery,
not to be surpassed
in any pan of the island...
"The mountains and rocky elevations
are here magnificently bold
and Bray Head itself
commands an extensive view."
But this dramatic topography
presented a formidable challenge
to the railway builder.
This line was built to connect Dublin
with the ports on the east coast,
but the proposed route meant traversing
the rocky headland of Bray Head,
near the Wicklow mountains.
I'm leaving the train at Greystones
Station to take a closer look.
I've come to discover more about
this beautiful stretch of railway
passing through this infamous terrain,
and the remarkable engineer
who achieved it.
The best place to get to grips
with the sheer scale of the challenge
is up on the paths that cling
to Bray Head's cliffs.
We where I'm meeting railway historian
Brian Mac Aonghusa.
- Hello, Brian.
- Hello, Michael, good morning.
This must be one of the most spectacular
pieces of railway line
that I can think of.
I think it is in Ireland.
We're very proud of it
because a lot of work went into
the building of this.
This hill, called Bray Head,
contains Pre-Cambrian rock
and it's one of the hardest rocks
to drill through.
And the man who succeeded in doing it
was a very famous builder
of Irish railways.
He's known as the father of
Irish railways, William Dargan.
William Dargan was a self-taught
entrepreneur and engineer
who constructed more railway lines
in 19th-century Ireland
than any other builder.
But he wasn't involved with
the Bray Head project at its outset.
When the line was first proposed,
it was the English engineer
Isambard Kingdom Brunei
who took up the gauntlet.
It was designed by Brunei,
and Brunei started it in 1847,
but the company could not raise
sufficient capital after the famine.
And there was great difficulty in
organising men, organising the works.
The Great Famine began with the failure
of the potato harvest in the mid-1840s,
and became so severe that almost
an eighth of the population perished.
Making only short visits from England
to supervise the works,
and remote
from the harsh local realities,
Brunei and his contractor
ran into trouble.
By 1848, work had stopped.
But luckily, Ireland's home-grown
railway pioneer, William Dargan,
stepped into the breach.
(Brian) Dargan had achieved
great notoriety for his achievements
in building railways all over Ireland
by that time.
In the interests of the development of
Ireland, the development of the people,
he said he would do it
without accepting cash.
He agreed to accept shares or bonds
in the company
rather than be paid for the work.
Most unusual for such an astute person.
William Dargan was horrified
by the misery wrought by the famine.
He encouraged railway building,
believing that progress offered Ireland
the chance of better times.
He recruited the men he wanted
and if they were undernourished,
he would pay them one week's wages
in advance
and tell them to come back working
when they had built up their strength.
Now, this went down extremely well
with people.
They admired him for that and also,
if people were in distress,
he was inclined to help them
with a little cash.
And he became known as
"the man with his hand in his pocket."
At Bray Head, Dargan continued to work
closely with Brunei,
and by the mid 1850s
had finished the job.
It took 500 men to tunnel through
the Pre-Cambrian rock.
But looking at the project today,
one of the tunnels appears
to be disused.
(Brian) That was the original tunnel.
The original tunnel, which was when
the line was first built by Dargan,
along this stretch of coast.
And he built that tunnel as well as five
others between here and Greystones.
And why are they disused now, then'?
Because the line had to be moved inland
because of erosion and the collapse
of original wooden bridges
which traversed the gorges here.
But after about 60 years,
it had to be abandoned
and a new line had to be bored,
as you can see from the other tunnel.
The line has since become known
as Brunel's Folly
and ifs certainly had
its fair share of problems.
These days, high-tech equipment guards
against rock falls
and cliff defences have been built
to prevent erosion.
Despite all the expense
and effort involved,
I'm very glad that the line
still follows the same course,
providing passengers
with a magnificent view,
which I'm about to see
from a fresh perspective.
Now, what I have here is one
of my favourite things in the world.
This is a cab pass. This entitles me
to ride with the driver.
As long as I don't disturb him too much,
of course.
This is one of the intercity trains
that ply this line,
and it's whisking me towards Dublin.
It's a very, very smooth ride. You're
allowed to go how fast along here'?
- 60 miles an hour.
- 60 miles an hour?
So even though it's
an ancient bit of track,
through very challenging geography
and battered by storms,
- you can still go at a good speed.
- (driver) We're allowed 60 up to here
and once we enter the first tunnel,
it's 40 miles an hour.
So now I see the first of
these remarkable tunnels ahead.
We're going to plunge straight
through this head of land.
Straight through the rock.
Any idea how long this tunnel is,
Robbie?
It's about three-quarters of a mile.
Three-quarters of a mile, the first one.
Dropping your speed down.
Passing through in one of these modern
trains takes just a few seconds,
but digging out this rock
with the most rudimentary equipment
must have been an epic task.
So this brief moment of daylight
between one tunnel and the next,
this is what I was looking
down on before
when I was up there on Bray Head.
And back into the tunnel we go!
(horn beeps)
What the passenger sees on this railway
is the most stunningly beautiful view
of mountain and of sea.
And what I think of is
the fantastic engineering achievement
and how this formidable topography
had to be dominated
to build this railway line.
I'm now taking a back seat again
to continue my journey.
My beautiful intercity train
is now entering Dublin
and my Bradshaw's tells me
that it's the capital of Ireland
and the second city of the British
islands, on the River Liffey.
And Dublin Bay, he says,
"unfolds one of the finest land
and sea prospects ever beheld".
"Rendered extremely picturesque
by the bays and creeks
into which it is broken."
My chief interest in Dublin
is as the origin,
the birthplace,
of the railways in Ireland.
My train terminates at one of
the city's fine Victorian stations.
Connolly Station in Dublin. I've been
looking forward to seeing this
because I'm told
that it's a thing of beauty.
The main station opened in 1846
and is an imposing Italianate building
in white granite.
As the railway network rapidly expanded,
more capacity was needed
and this magnificent extension
was added in 1876.
And here it is, a glorious structure
with beautiful arches
in iron and in brick,
and this impressive roof of glass.
A station worthy of a capital city.
I'm now exploring Dublin with the help
of my 19th-century guide.
It tells me,
"The appearance of Dublin is very much
improved of late years."
"Streets have been widened,
new squares skilfully laid out
and many public monuments
freed from buildings
which concealed their beauties.“
But amid that apparent prosperity
there was also deprivation.
Huge numbers of people arrived
in the city fleeing the famine,
and levels of poverty
were among the worst in Europe.
My “Bradshaws Guide” holds a clue
to the social problems that ensued.
I'm often surprised by the places
that Bradshaw's mentions
as being of possible interest
to the tourist.
Here in Dublin, of course,
it mentions bridges and churches
and fine public buildings,
but also Kilmainham Gaol.
Crime and punishment were much
debated in 19th-century society,
and when my guidebook was published,
this prison had just been transformed
to bring it into line
with Victorian penal philosophy.
I'm taking a tour
with expert Niall Bergin.
- Michael.
- Good to see you.
Welcome to Kilmainham Gaol.
A kind of chilling place I find it,
actually.
- A very impressive space.
- What's the history?
The jail dates back to 1796,
when it opened as the new county jail
for Dublin,
and it closed in 1924.
There's an incredible history here.
Interestingly, as the building stands
today, just two wings,
the west wing and the east wing,
which we are in at the moment,
which is a late addition.
It's classic Victorian
and it dates to 1861-62 period.
As cities rapidly expanded
in the 19th century, crime soared.
But modern thinkers regarded
punishments like transportation
and execution, except for murder,
as barbaric.
The answer,
to expand the number of prisons.
And between 1842 and 1877,
90 were built or extended.
Why did the Victorians build it
in this shape?
This is the classic panoptic design.
It is an all-seeing eye and it comes
from the Greek "panopticon".
When the prison staff were here,
they could virtually see all the cells.
It is all about observation
and surveillance.
Also the Victorians were great believers
in the healing power of light
and all the Victorian prisons,
be it in London,
in Britain or be it in Ireland,
all have massive canopy skylights.
They contradict themselves in a sense,
as punishment
was all about denying them light
and all the punishment cells
are right below us.
What son of crimes
were people here for?
I have found a number of instances
of railway-connected crime,
so things like not paying their fare
or travelling on a train
without proper tickets.
There is a brilliant incident
of a gentleman travelling on a buffer
and he got two weeks' imprisonment
for his crime.
There was a child here
of nine years of age
for playing marbles on a train
and annoying passengers.
Really interesting stuff.
The Victorian east wing provided
the jail with an additional 96 cells
of nine foot by six foot each.
Visiting today, /am trying to imagine
what life was like for the prisoners.
So here we come across
an open Victorian cell.
How many prisoners
were meant to be in here?
All cells are for one person,
but very rarely did that happen.
There are records of up to two, three,
four people per room.
Prisoners could have spent up to
22 hours a day in these cells
without running water or toilets,
leaving only for exercise
or hard labour.
This actually is a photograph
of a typical cell.
You can see the bed, son of like
a wooden board with a mattress,
but during the day it was placed
against a wall,
just for more room for the prisoner
to move around.
Also the rules and regulations
for the prison are here, listed.
You can see the vents to let air in.
Table and chair. Very basic.
A chamber pot. Very, very basic.
Also the windows are very highly placed
so the prisoners are looking up
towards heaven.
The thing of redemption again.
It's a fascinating insight
into Victorian penal practice.
But Kilmainham Gaol
is remembered today
for its role in the story
of Irish nationalism.
Rebels against British rule
were imprisoned here
throughout the jail's life.
But it was a 20th-century event
that secured its place in Irish history.
This yard, this space,
this is the scene where the leaders
of the 1916 uprising were executed.
So this is the Easter Rising,
this is where there's a huge rebellion,
they seized many government buildings.
Obviously the rebellion failed and that
failure led to the executions of 14...
Well, actually, 16 men were executed,
but 14 in Kilmainham Gaol
by firing squad.
As you look around the yard,
you see the crosses at either end
and the crosses are marking
the spots where the men were shot.
During the rising, some 600 rebels
held Dublin city centre for six days.
Around 450 people were killed,
many of them civilians.
At first, public opinion
was largely hostile to the rebels.
But the crackdown that followed created
sympathy for the Republican cause.
These days the Easter Rising
is seen as a turning point
in the history of Irish nationalism.
Kilmainham is one of the busiest
heritage sites in Ireland today
and if we were to ask even the visitors
coming through today,
"Why are you here'?
What do you want to know?"
They want to learn
the political history of Ireland
and see the spot
where these men were executed.
Now it's back to Connolly Station,
because I'm in search of
a bed for the night
and I've a rather special hotel in mind.
It's just outside Dublin,
in the coastal resort
of Dun Loaghaire or Dunleary.
And to get there I am taking a service
known to Dubliners as the Dart.
On my travels I've often found
that the earliest railways
were built for freight,
not for passengers,
but that's not true
of this particular line.
I'm travelling along tracks
that were laid in 1834 by William Dargan
specifically for commuters.
In fact, the Irish claim that it's
the world's oldest commuter railway.
It's still doing the same job today
as it was in the 1830s,
and today it is pan of
the Dublin Area Rapid Transit.
To my excitement, this was also
19th-century Ireland's first railway.
The route was chosen
because a smart new harbour
had been built at Dunleary, making it
a fashionable place to live.
Wealthy Dublin businessmen
soon embraced the commute,
which thousands of people still make
each day.
How are you?
Have you heard of William Dargan?
Yes, I have.
- Who was he?
- I don't know, but I've heard the name.
He was the engineer
who built this railway line.
Look how beautiful it is here.
Isn't that fantastic?
- Have you been on this railway before?
- No, I've never been on this railway.
Is it mentioned in your trusty guide?
Absolutely, it's mentioned
in my trusty guide.
But this is supposedly the first
commuter railway in the world,
- opened in 1834.
- (woman) Really?
Five thousand passengers on
the first day. Isn't that a thought?
- I hope you have a wonderful time.
- Thank you.
' Bye-bye.
' Enjoy your trip.
So, Dunleary.
The last thing I saw from the train
as I came into the station
was the harbour. We're right by
the waterside, a beautiful spot.
Luckily for me,
Dunleary's 19th-century gentrification
included the building
of a luxurious new hotel.
On the first day of my Irish railway
journey I've developed
an intense admiration
for William Dargan.
He wasn't just a railway engineer.
He was also in the business
of supplying hotels.
And so for my first night
in the Republic,
I've decided to stay
in one of his finest.
The Royal Marine Hotel,
built between 1863 and 1865,
even played host
to Queen Victoria herself.
A fitting spot for me and
my “Bradshaw's Guide“ to pass the night.
Day two of my journey
and ifs back on the Dart for me
to take a fuller look
at the Irish capital.
From Dunleary I'm headed once more
to the heart of Dublin,
a city of which I have many memories
and of which I'm very fond.
I shall be exploring it today
using my Bradshaws
and the tips that it gives me,
starting with this handy map of the city
from the mid-1860s.
It's wonderful to have my Victorian map,
but when it comes to Dublin,
ifs of limited use.
Although the layout of the city
hasn't changed too much,
many of the street names have,
reflecting Ireland's turbulent history.
Bradshaw's greatly admired what was
Sackville Street, with its monument,
splendid hotels and the column
erected in honour of Horatio Nelson.
But in this building here,
the Post Office,
the Easter Rising of 1916
reached its climax.
The column of Nelson
was blown up in 1966
and a spire erected in its place.
And this is now O'Connell Street,
so whilst the generous proportions
of this boulevard have not altered,
the names commemorated here
have changed completely.
The spire's official name
is the Monument of Light.
Made of stainless steel,
it reaches 120 metres into the sky.
- May I ask, are you from Dublin?
- I'm from Cork.
- Are you visiting today?
- No, I live here now.
- This spire, what do you think of that?
- Opinion is divided about this.
Some people feel
it wasn't the best use of resources,
but it's actually astonishing
to look at.
There's no doubt it has a magnetic pull
about it. It's beautiful.
- You might be one of its fans, I think.
- I wouldn't go that far exactly.
But, yes, it is nice to look at.
To reach my last stop
on this leg of the journey,
I'm using another feature
of modern Dublin, the tram.
(machine) Please select a ticket type.
(Michael) The Luas light rail system
opened in 2004
and carries 80,000 passengers per day
around the city.
I do love trams,
they add such personality to cities.
I'm so sorry that so many British cities
have lost theirs.
But pleased too that some of them
have got them back.
These ones in Dublin
are really smart and new.
Dublin got its first tramway
in the 1870s, initially horse-drawn,
but later using electrical power.
That original system was phased out
in the 1940s
and now the city is proud
of its new network.
Hello. It's my first time on the tram.
- Do you use it much yourself?
- Only when I'm visiting my sister.
Don't you think there's something more
romantic about a tram than a bus?
Well... it's very modern.
Not like the old trams.
(woman 2) They were good, weren't they?
You preferred the old trams
to these lovely modern ones?
- Why would you do that?
- Well, I'm old-fashioned.
(Carmichael) Tell me about the old ones.
What were the sounds?
- Did it have a bell?
- Yes, a good "bing!"
We left the tram at Heuston Station,
built in 1846 and recently restored.
It's one of three main line stations
in Dublin,
which in Bradshaws day
became the transport hub
for the whole of Ireland.
Soon the trains were bringing visitors
to a famous park
for a new and educational experience.
My Bradshaw's tells me that Dublin's
famous Phoenix Park
"is seven miles around and contains
barracks and zoological gardens".
Today, Dublin Zoo is one of the city's
most popular attractions.
And in the early days,
the railways helped to get it started.
I'm meeting zoo archivist
Catherine de Courcy to hear the story.
I believe Dublin Zoo
dates all the way back to 1831.
Was Dublin in the vanguard
of zoological gardens?
It was. London Zoo was opened in 1828
and was the first purpose-built zoo,
and a lot of the modern zoos
were modelled on London Zoo.
The Dublin people, in 1830,
founded a society specifically
to create a zoo like London Zoo
in Dublin.
These early zoos weren't for
entertainment, but for serious study.
The Victorians were fascinated
by the natural world
and seeing exotic animals in the flesh
was superior to reading about them
in books.
London Zoo was happy to spread
the movement to Dublin
and sent a batch of animals
to help the new zoo on its way.
When we talk about animals
being sent to Dublin Zoo,
I've never thought about it,
but how did they make the journey?
They arrived
in a variety of different ways.
Many of the more exotic animals
through the 19th century
would have arrived by ship,
directly from Liverpool.
A lot of animals sent from people
Ireland came by train to Dublin.
And they often travelled free of charge
in the care of the train staff.
For example, in the 1880s, a Reverend
Brett sent us a crocodile from Wexford
and somebody sent us a macaque monkey
from Sligo.
(Michael) If I were a ticket collector
and came across a crocodile,
I probably wouldn't
seek to extract the fare.
These tall fellows,
I don't think they travelled by train.
(Catherine) We did receive one
that came on a long train journey
to Dublin Zoo in 1902.
We were given a present of a fully-grown
giraffe by an Irishman in the Sudan.
It went on a train to Cairo
and had to go under six bridges.
The giraffe was far too tall in its car
to get under each bridge,
so they created a padded sliding roof,
and as it approached each bridge
the sliding roof gently closed
and the giraffe's head dropped down.
It went under the bridge and the roof
was opened and he had air once more.
When zoos were first founded,
they were private societies,
aimed squarely at
wealthy amateur naturalists.
But while London Zoo
remained exclusive until 1847,
Dublin offered public entrance
for sixpence right from the start.
Then, in 1840, the zoo launched
penny tickets on Sundays.
During the 19th century when the masses
could come here quite cheaply,
I'd love to think they came by train.
Did they?
Initially, it was largely for Dubliners.
A local facility.
But then we see, in the 1870s and 1880s
particularly,
the whole movement of people
coming to Dublin for a day out
or for a brief period, excursionists,
tourists, to come to the zoo.
That was clearly evident
in the fact that the zoo,
which had no money,
put a lot of money into advertising.
And in the 1870s they would place
every year, for a number of years,
they placed framed advertisements
with lions and tigers
in 20 railway stations
around the country.
It was no coincidence that lions were
chosen as the poster boys of the zoo.
In the 19th century,
Dublin's lions were renowned,
as might be judged
from the grand former lion house.
Our lions were so famous
that American visitors
were known to disembark in Cork
on the way through to Europe
and come up by train, by the Great
Southern Railway, up to Dublin
specifically to visit our lions.
American tourists were mostly headed
for London or Liverpool,
so stopping in Dublin
was quite a detour.
One especially big beast
even attracted VIPs.
In 1878, the Zoo's secretary,
Samuel Horton,
showed the lions,
including a huge one called Charlie,
to former US President Ulysses S Grant.
He lit up a cigar and contemplated
Charlie, the extra-large lion,
and at that point Horton
decided to break the ice a bit
and told the President that, in fact,
the lions had been responsible
for a two per cent rise in the value
of the Great Southern Railway,
specifically because American tourists
came to Dublin to have a look
at our famous lions.
Travelling with my guide book
is always full of surprises.
But I never thought
that a trip to the zoo
would uncover
quite so much railway history.
What a joy it's been for me
to revisit Dublin's fair city.
And I'm delighted to discover
that two characters helped
the development of railways in Ireland,
to whom train passengers
should give thanks.
The engineer William Dargan,
and a lion called Charlie.
On the next stretch of my journey
HI be discovering
an industrial railway
built on inhospitable bogs...
What scale of rail operation
do you have here?
Well, in total, we have 600 kilometres
of permanent rail line.
Admiring a marvel of Victorian
railway engineering...
Brendan, it's certainly worth seeing
the viaduct from here, isn't it'?
It soars above the town
and is a wonderful combination
of iron and stone.
And unearthing extraordinary
underground secrets.
- So now we're at the sharp end.
- (man) This is where it all happens.
(man) Just mind your footing. Just
follow me is probably the best thing.
travel in Britain and Ireland.
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 these islands
to see what of Bradshaw's world remains.
My trusty Bradshaw's Guide
has already led me
on delightful journeys
throughout England, Scotland and Wales.
But now, for the first time,
I've crossed the Irish sea,
for when Bradshaw's Descriptive Railway
Handbook of Great Britain and Ireland
was published in the 1860s,
Britain and Ireland were a single state.
And now I'm set to explore
a whole new island of railway stories.
On this leg, I'll be exploring
a daring feat of engineering,
built by the father of Irish railways...
So now I see the first
of these remarkable tunnels ahead.
We're going to plunge
straight through the rock.
Visiting a Victorian prison
that played host to railway criminals...
There was a child here
of nine years of age
for playing marbles on a train
and annoying passengers.
And hearing how even animals embraced
train travel in the age of steam...
The giraffe was far too tall in its can
to get under each bridge,
so they created a padded sliding roof
and as it approached each bridge,
the sliding roof gently closed.
This long journey begins near Dublin,
where this island's railways were born,
then follows their expansion northwards.
Crossing into Northern Ireland, I'll
explore Belfast’s industrial heritage
before experiencing the stunning coast,
finishing up in Derry/Londonderry.
This stretch covers 17 miles,
passing through the rocky outcrop
of Bray Head on my way to Dublin
where I'll explore railways
that radiate from the city.
I'm starting on a breathtaking tine
that skirts the east coast
between Wicklow and Dublin.
I'm looking forward to seeing
both the Republic and Northern Ireland
through the eyes
of a 19th-century travel writer.
My Bradshaw's is enthusiastic
about the landscape,
saying that
"particularly on the sea coast,
it assumes a splendid variety
of scenery,
not to be surpassed
in any pan of the island...
"The mountains and rocky elevations
are here magnificently bold
and Bray Head itself
commands an extensive view."
But this dramatic topography
presented a formidable challenge
to the railway builder.
This line was built to connect Dublin
with the ports on the east coast,
but the proposed route meant traversing
the rocky headland of Bray Head,
near the Wicklow mountains.
I'm leaving the train at Greystones
Station to take a closer look.
I've come to discover more about
this beautiful stretch of railway
passing through this infamous terrain,
and the remarkable engineer
who achieved it.
The best place to get to grips
with the sheer scale of the challenge
is up on the paths that cling
to Bray Head's cliffs.
We where I'm meeting railway historian
Brian Mac Aonghusa.
- Hello, Brian.
- Hello, Michael, good morning.
This must be one of the most spectacular
pieces of railway line
that I can think of.
I think it is in Ireland.
We're very proud of it
because a lot of work went into
the building of this.
This hill, called Bray Head,
contains Pre-Cambrian rock
and it's one of the hardest rocks
to drill through.
And the man who succeeded in doing it
was a very famous builder
of Irish railways.
He's known as the father of
Irish railways, William Dargan.
William Dargan was a self-taught
entrepreneur and engineer
who constructed more railway lines
in 19th-century Ireland
than any other builder.
But he wasn't involved with
the Bray Head project at its outset.
When the line was first proposed,
it was the English engineer
Isambard Kingdom Brunei
who took up the gauntlet.
It was designed by Brunei,
and Brunei started it in 1847,
but the company could not raise
sufficient capital after the famine.
And there was great difficulty in
organising men, organising the works.
The Great Famine began with the failure
of the potato harvest in the mid-1840s,
and became so severe that almost
an eighth of the population perished.
Making only short visits from England
to supervise the works,
and remote
from the harsh local realities,
Brunei and his contractor
ran into trouble.
By 1848, work had stopped.
But luckily, Ireland's home-grown
railway pioneer, William Dargan,
stepped into the breach.
(Brian) Dargan had achieved
great notoriety for his achievements
in building railways all over Ireland
by that time.
In the interests of the development of
Ireland, the development of the people,
he said he would do it
without accepting cash.
He agreed to accept shares or bonds
in the company
rather than be paid for the work.
Most unusual for such an astute person.
William Dargan was horrified
by the misery wrought by the famine.
He encouraged railway building,
believing that progress offered Ireland
the chance of better times.
He recruited the men he wanted
and if they were undernourished,
he would pay them one week's wages
in advance
and tell them to come back working
when they had built up their strength.
Now, this went down extremely well
with people.
They admired him for that and also,
if people were in distress,
he was inclined to help them
with a little cash.
And he became known as
"the man with his hand in his pocket."
At Bray Head, Dargan continued to work
closely with Brunei,
and by the mid 1850s
had finished the job.
It took 500 men to tunnel through
the Pre-Cambrian rock.
But looking at the project today,
one of the tunnels appears
to be disused.
(Brian) That was the original tunnel.
The original tunnel, which was when
the line was first built by Dargan,
along this stretch of coast.
And he built that tunnel as well as five
others between here and Greystones.
And why are they disused now, then'?
Because the line had to be moved inland
because of erosion and the collapse
of original wooden bridges
which traversed the gorges here.
But after about 60 years,
it had to be abandoned
and a new line had to be bored,
as you can see from the other tunnel.
The line has since become known
as Brunel's Folly
and ifs certainly had
its fair share of problems.
These days, high-tech equipment guards
against rock falls
and cliff defences have been built
to prevent erosion.
Despite all the expense
and effort involved,
I'm very glad that the line
still follows the same course,
providing passengers
with a magnificent view,
which I'm about to see
from a fresh perspective.
Now, what I have here is one
of my favourite things in the world.
This is a cab pass. This entitles me
to ride with the driver.
As long as I don't disturb him too much,
of course.
This is one of the intercity trains
that ply this line,
and it's whisking me towards Dublin.
It's a very, very smooth ride. You're
allowed to go how fast along here'?
- 60 miles an hour.
- 60 miles an hour?
So even though it's
an ancient bit of track,
through very challenging geography
and battered by storms,
- you can still go at a good speed.
- (driver) We're allowed 60 up to here
and once we enter the first tunnel,
it's 40 miles an hour.
So now I see the first of
these remarkable tunnels ahead.
We're going to plunge straight
through this head of land.
Straight through the rock.
Any idea how long this tunnel is,
Robbie?
It's about three-quarters of a mile.
Three-quarters of a mile, the first one.
Dropping your speed down.
Passing through in one of these modern
trains takes just a few seconds,
but digging out this rock
with the most rudimentary equipment
must have been an epic task.
So this brief moment of daylight
between one tunnel and the next,
this is what I was looking
down on before
when I was up there on Bray Head.
And back into the tunnel we go!
(horn beeps)
What the passenger sees on this railway
is the most stunningly beautiful view
of mountain and of sea.
And what I think of is
the fantastic engineering achievement
and how this formidable topography
had to be dominated
to build this railway line.
I'm now taking a back seat again
to continue my journey.
My beautiful intercity train
is now entering Dublin
and my Bradshaw's tells me
that it's the capital of Ireland
and the second city of the British
islands, on the River Liffey.
And Dublin Bay, he says,
"unfolds one of the finest land
and sea prospects ever beheld".
"Rendered extremely picturesque
by the bays and creeks
into which it is broken."
My chief interest in Dublin
is as the origin,
the birthplace,
of the railways in Ireland.
My train terminates at one of
the city's fine Victorian stations.
Connolly Station in Dublin. I've been
looking forward to seeing this
because I'm told
that it's a thing of beauty.
The main station opened in 1846
and is an imposing Italianate building
in white granite.
As the railway network rapidly expanded,
more capacity was needed
and this magnificent extension
was added in 1876.
And here it is, a glorious structure
with beautiful arches
in iron and in brick,
and this impressive roof of glass.
A station worthy of a capital city.
I'm now exploring Dublin with the help
of my 19th-century guide.
It tells me,
"The appearance of Dublin is very much
improved of late years."
"Streets have been widened,
new squares skilfully laid out
and many public monuments
freed from buildings
which concealed their beauties.“
But amid that apparent prosperity
there was also deprivation.
Huge numbers of people arrived
in the city fleeing the famine,
and levels of poverty
were among the worst in Europe.
My “Bradshaws Guide” holds a clue
to the social problems that ensued.
I'm often surprised by the places
that Bradshaw's mentions
as being of possible interest
to the tourist.
Here in Dublin, of course,
it mentions bridges and churches
and fine public buildings,
but also Kilmainham Gaol.
Crime and punishment were much
debated in 19th-century society,
and when my guidebook was published,
this prison had just been transformed
to bring it into line
with Victorian penal philosophy.
I'm taking a tour
with expert Niall Bergin.
- Michael.
- Good to see you.
Welcome to Kilmainham Gaol.
A kind of chilling place I find it,
actually.
- A very impressive space.
- What's the history?
The jail dates back to 1796,
when it opened as the new county jail
for Dublin,
and it closed in 1924.
There's an incredible history here.
Interestingly, as the building stands
today, just two wings,
the west wing and the east wing,
which we are in at the moment,
which is a late addition.
It's classic Victorian
and it dates to 1861-62 period.
As cities rapidly expanded
in the 19th century, crime soared.
But modern thinkers regarded
punishments like transportation
and execution, except for murder,
as barbaric.
The answer,
to expand the number of prisons.
And between 1842 and 1877,
90 were built or extended.
Why did the Victorians build it
in this shape?
This is the classic panoptic design.
It is an all-seeing eye and it comes
from the Greek "panopticon".
When the prison staff were here,
they could virtually see all the cells.
It is all about observation
and surveillance.
Also the Victorians were great believers
in the healing power of light
and all the Victorian prisons,
be it in London,
in Britain or be it in Ireland,
all have massive canopy skylights.
They contradict themselves in a sense,
as punishment
was all about denying them light
and all the punishment cells
are right below us.
What son of crimes
were people here for?
I have found a number of instances
of railway-connected crime,
so things like not paying their fare
or travelling on a train
without proper tickets.
There is a brilliant incident
of a gentleman travelling on a buffer
and he got two weeks' imprisonment
for his crime.
There was a child here
of nine years of age
for playing marbles on a train
and annoying passengers.
Really interesting stuff.
The Victorian east wing provided
the jail with an additional 96 cells
of nine foot by six foot each.
Visiting today, /am trying to imagine
what life was like for the prisoners.
So here we come across
an open Victorian cell.
How many prisoners
were meant to be in here?
All cells are for one person,
but very rarely did that happen.
There are records of up to two, three,
four people per room.
Prisoners could have spent up to
22 hours a day in these cells
without running water or toilets,
leaving only for exercise
or hard labour.
This actually is a photograph
of a typical cell.
You can see the bed, son of like
a wooden board with a mattress,
but during the day it was placed
against a wall,
just for more room for the prisoner
to move around.
Also the rules and regulations
for the prison are here, listed.
You can see the vents to let air in.
Table and chair. Very basic.
A chamber pot. Very, very basic.
Also the windows are very highly placed
so the prisoners are looking up
towards heaven.
The thing of redemption again.
It's a fascinating insight
into Victorian penal practice.
But Kilmainham Gaol
is remembered today
for its role in the story
of Irish nationalism.
Rebels against British rule
were imprisoned here
throughout the jail's life.
But it was a 20th-century event
that secured its place in Irish history.
This yard, this space,
this is the scene where the leaders
of the 1916 uprising were executed.
So this is the Easter Rising,
this is where there's a huge rebellion,
they seized many government buildings.
Obviously the rebellion failed and that
failure led to the executions of 14...
Well, actually, 16 men were executed,
but 14 in Kilmainham Gaol
by firing squad.
As you look around the yard,
you see the crosses at either end
and the crosses are marking
the spots where the men were shot.
During the rising, some 600 rebels
held Dublin city centre for six days.
Around 450 people were killed,
many of them civilians.
At first, public opinion
was largely hostile to the rebels.
But the crackdown that followed created
sympathy for the Republican cause.
These days the Easter Rising
is seen as a turning point
in the history of Irish nationalism.
Kilmainham is one of the busiest
heritage sites in Ireland today
and if we were to ask even the visitors
coming through today,
"Why are you here'?
What do you want to know?"
They want to learn
the political history of Ireland
and see the spot
where these men were executed.
Now it's back to Connolly Station,
because I'm in search of
a bed for the night
and I've a rather special hotel in mind.
It's just outside Dublin,
in the coastal resort
of Dun Loaghaire or Dunleary.
And to get there I am taking a service
known to Dubliners as the Dart.
On my travels I've often found
that the earliest railways
were built for freight,
not for passengers,
but that's not true
of this particular line.
I'm travelling along tracks
that were laid in 1834 by William Dargan
specifically for commuters.
In fact, the Irish claim that it's
the world's oldest commuter railway.
It's still doing the same job today
as it was in the 1830s,
and today it is pan of
the Dublin Area Rapid Transit.
To my excitement, this was also
19th-century Ireland's first railway.
The route was chosen
because a smart new harbour
had been built at Dunleary, making it
a fashionable place to live.
Wealthy Dublin businessmen
soon embraced the commute,
which thousands of people still make
each day.
How are you?
Have you heard of William Dargan?
Yes, I have.
- Who was he?
- I don't know, but I've heard the name.
He was the engineer
who built this railway line.
Look how beautiful it is here.
Isn't that fantastic?
- Have you been on this railway before?
- No, I've never been on this railway.
Is it mentioned in your trusty guide?
Absolutely, it's mentioned
in my trusty guide.
But this is supposedly the first
commuter railway in the world,
- opened in 1834.
- (woman) Really?
Five thousand passengers on
the first day. Isn't that a thought?
- I hope you have a wonderful time.
- Thank you.
' Bye-bye.
' Enjoy your trip.
So, Dunleary.
The last thing I saw from the train
as I came into the station
was the harbour. We're right by
the waterside, a beautiful spot.
Luckily for me,
Dunleary's 19th-century gentrification
included the building
of a luxurious new hotel.
On the first day of my Irish railway
journey I've developed
an intense admiration
for William Dargan.
He wasn't just a railway engineer.
He was also in the business
of supplying hotels.
And so for my first night
in the Republic,
I've decided to stay
in one of his finest.
The Royal Marine Hotel,
built between 1863 and 1865,
even played host
to Queen Victoria herself.
A fitting spot for me and
my “Bradshaw's Guide“ to pass the night.
Day two of my journey
and ifs back on the Dart for me
to take a fuller look
at the Irish capital.
From Dunleary I'm headed once more
to the heart of Dublin,
a city of which I have many memories
and of which I'm very fond.
I shall be exploring it today
using my Bradshaws
and the tips that it gives me,
starting with this handy map of the city
from the mid-1860s.
It's wonderful to have my Victorian map,
but when it comes to Dublin,
ifs of limited use.
Although the layout of the city
hasn't changed too much,
many of the street names have,
reflecting Ireland's turbulent history.
Bradshaw's greatly admired what was
Sackville Street, with its monument,
splendid hotels and the column
erected in honour of Horatio Nelson.
But in this building here,
the Post Office,
the Easter Rising of 1916
reached its climax.
The column of Nelson
was blown up in 1966
and a spire erected in its place.
And this is now O'Connell Street,
so whilst the generous proportions
of this boulevard have not altered,
the names commemorated here
have changed completely.
The spire's official name
is the Monument of Light.
Made of stainless steel,
it reaches 120 metres into the sky.
- May I ask, are you from Dublin?
- I'm from Cork.
- Are you visiting today?
- No, I live here now.
- This spire, what do you think of that?
- Opinion is divided about this.
Some people feel
it wasn't the best use of resources,
but it's actually astonishing
to look at.
There's no doubt it has a magnetic pull
about it. It's beautiful.
- You might be one of its fans, I think.
- I wouldn't go that far exactly.
But, yes, it is nice to look at.
To reach my last stop
on this leg of the journey,
I'm using another feature
of modern Dublin, the tram.
(machine) Please select a ticket type.
(Michael) The Luas light rail system
opened in 2004
and carries 80,000 passengers per day
around the city.
I do love trams,
they add such personality to cities.
I'm so sorry that so many British cities
have lost theirs.
But pleased too that some of them
have got them back.
These ones in Dublin
are really smart and new.
Dublin got its first tramway
in the 1870s, initially horse-drawn,
but later using electrical power.
That original system was phased out
in the 1940s
and now the city is proud
of its new network.
Hello. It's my first time on the tram.
- Do you use it much yourself?
- Only when I'm visiting my sister.
Don't you think there's something more
romantic about a tram than a bus?
Well... it's very modern.
Not like the old trams.
(woman 2) They were good, weren't they?
You preferred the old trams
to these lovely modern ones?
- Why would you do that?
- Well, I'm old-fashioned.
(Carmichael) Tell me about the old ones.
What were the sounds?
- Did it have a bell?
- Yes, a good "bing!"
We left the tram at Heuston Station,
built in 1846 and recently restored.
It's one of three main line stations
in Dublin,
which in Bradshaws day
became the transport hub
for the whole of Ireland.
Soon the trains were bringing visitors
to a famous park
for a new and educational experience.
My Bradshaw's tells me that Dublin's
famous Phoenix Park
"is seven miles around and contains
barracks and zoological gardens".
Today, Dublin Zoo is one of the city's
most popular attractions.
And in the early days,
the railways helped to get it started.
I'm meeting zoo archivist
Catherine de Courcy to hear the story.
I believe Dublin Zoo
dates all the way back to 1831.
Was Dublin in the vanguard
of zoological gardens?
It was. London Zoo was opened in 1828
and was the first purpose-built zoo,
and a lot of the modern zoos
were modelled on London Zoo.
The Dublin people, in 1830,
founded a society specifically
to create a zoo like London Zoo
in Dublin.
These early zoos weren't for
entertainment, but for serious study.
The Victorians were fascinated
by the natural world
and seeing exotic animals in the flesh
was superior to reading about them
in books.
London Zoo was happy to spread
the movement to Dublin
and sent a batch of animals
to help the new zoo on its way.
When we talk about animals
being sent to Dublin Zoo,
I've never thought about it,
but how did they make the journey?
They arrived
in a variety of different ways.
Many of the more exotic animals
through the 19th century
would have arrived by ship,
directly from Liverpool.
A lot of animals sent from people
Ireland came by train to Dublin.
And they often travelled free of charge
in the care of the train staff.
For example, in the 1880s, a Reverend
Brett sent us a crocodile from Wexford
and somebody sent us a macaque monkey
from Sligo.
(Michael) If I were a ticket collector
and came across a crocodile,
I probably wouldn't
seek to extract the fare.
These tall fellows,
I don't think they travelled by train.
(Catherine) We did receive one
that came on a long train journey
to Dublin Zoo in 1902.
We were given a present of a fully-grown
giraffe by an Irishman in the Sudan.
It went on a train to Cairo
and had to go under six bridges.
The giraffe was far too tall in its car
to get under each bridge,
so they created a padded sliding roof,
and as it approached each bridge
the sliding roof gently closed
and the giraffe's head dropped down.
It went under the bridge and the roof
was opened and he had air once more.
When zoos were first founded,
they were private societies,
aimed squarely at
wealthy amateur naturalists.
But while London Zoo
remained exclusive until 1847,
Dublin offered public entrance
for sixpence right from the start.
Then, in 1840, the zoo launched
penny tickets on Sundays.
During the 19th century when the masses
could come here quite cheaply,
I'd love to think they came by train.
Did they?
Initially, it was largely for Dubliners.
A local facility.
But then we see, in the 1870s and 1880s
particularly,
the whole movement of people
coming to Dublin for a day out
or for a brief period, excursionists,
tourists, to come to the zoo.
That was clearly evident
in the fact that the zoo,
which had no money,
put a lot of money into advertising.
And in the 1870s they would place
every year, for a number of years,
they placed framed advertisements
with lions and tigers
in 20 railway stations
around the country.
It was no coincidence that lions were
chosen as the poster boys of the zoo.
In the 19th century,
Dublin's lions were renowned,
as might be judged
from the grand former lion house.
Our lions were so famous
that American visitors
were known to disembark in Cork
on the way through to Europe
and come up by train, by the Great
Southern Railway, up to Dublin
specifically to visit our lions.
American tourists were mostly headed
for London or Liverpool,
so stopping in Dublin
was quite a detour.
One especially big beast
even attracted VIPs.
In 1878, the Zoo's secretary,
Samuel Horton,
showed the lions,
including a huge one called Charlie,
to former US President Ulysses S Grant.
He lit up a cigar and contemplated
Charlie, the extra-large lion,
and at that point Horton
decided to break the ice a bit
and told the President that, in fact,
the lions had been responsible
for a two per cent rise in the value
of the Great Southern Railway,
specifically because American tourists
came to Dublin to have a look
at our famous lions.
Travelling with my guide book
is always full of surprises.
But I never thought
that a trip to the zoo
would uncover
quite so much railway history.
What a joy it's been for me
to revisit Dublin's fair city.
And I'm delighted to discover
that two characters helped
the development of railways in Ireland,
to whom train passengers
should give thanks.
The engineer William Dargan,
and a lion called Charlie.
On the next stretch of my journey
HI be discovering
an industrial railway
built on inhospitable bogs...
What scale of rail operation
do you have here?
Well, in total, we have 600 kilometres
of permanent rail line.
Admiring a marvel of Victorian
railway engineering...
Brendan, it's certainly worth seeing
the viaduct from here, isn't it'?
It soars above the town
and is a wonderful combination
of iron and stone.
And unearthing extraordinary
underground secrets.
- So now we're at the sharp end.
- (man) This is where it all happens.
(man) Just mind your footing. Just
follow me is probably the best thing.