Great British Railway Journeys (2010–…): Season 5, Episode 7 - Bletchley to Newport Pagnell - 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 go,
what to see and where to stay,
and now, 170 years later,
I'm aboard for a series of rail
adventures across the United Kingdom
to see what of Bradshaw's Britain
remains.
I'm continuing my journey
on the first inter-city line
built out of the nation's capital,
by Robert Stephenson,
between London and Birmingham.
I'm now in North Buckinghamshire,
transformed since Bradshaw's day
by the construction oi Milton Keynes.
But I shall be focusing
on towns and villages
mentioned in my 19th-century guidebook.
I began on the commuter lines
of London.
I'm heading north
on the London Midland line,
and on to the manufacturing heartlands
of Northamptonshire and Warwickshire.
After making stops
in the East Midlands,
my journey will conclude in Yorkshire.
Starting in Buckinghamshire
at Bletchley,
I cross to Fenny Stratford
on the branch line,
before heading north to
the Victorian new town of Wolverton.
This leg ends in Newport Pagnell.
Today, I meet one of the Second World
War's most secret agents, “
It was all a bit crafty, really.
So you took a message
which had a meaning
and you put it into other words,
but, of course, the meaning
- had to be exactly the same.
- That's right.
I'll be testing my knowledge
of 18th-century hymns...
Do you recognise that one?
- You're teasing me. What is it?
- (laughter)
and getting to grips with
the ancient craft of vellum making.
- Do you do this all day?
- This is my afternoon work.
(both laugh)
My first stop today
is Bletchley Station.
Bradshaw's tells me of its
pivotal position on the rail network.
"From Bletchley, branch rails turn off
left to Winslow, Oxford and Banbury,
and on the right to Bedford."
Before the Beeching axe fell
in the 1960s,
Bletchley formed a junction
between the Varsity Line,
which connected the intellectual
powerhouses of Oxford and Cambridge,
with the London-to-Birmingham route.
And during World War ll
and our struggle against Nazi Germany,
the junction assumed
a more enigmatic role.
As Hitler's Luftwaffe bombed Britain,
for a time,
a successful German invasion
hoked frighteningly possible.
But Britain was able to fightback
more effectively
thanks to top-secret work
undertaken here.
Nowadays, most of us
have heard of Bletchley Park
and its secret code breakers,
but I hadn't appreciated
that it owed its location
to the busy railway junction nearby.
The Secret Intelligence Service wanted
easy access for Britain's top brains,
and with Bletchley Park
halfway between Oxford and Cambridge,
this stretch became known
as the Varsity Line.
But not everyone stationed here
was a professor.
I have a very special appointment
with a Bletchley veteran,
90-year-old Betty Webb.
Great pleasure to be able
to join you for some tea.
(Betty) This is very nice, isn't it?
(Michael) Had you any idea
what you were coming for?
Absolutely no idea.
I'd never heard of Bletchley,
and certainly had not heard
of the operation
that I was about to be involved in,
so it was all a complete shock.
When I came here after signing
the Official Secrets Act,
I was interviewed by Major Tester,
and joined his group which had offices
above the ballroom here.
Although only 18, Belly was useful
lo Bletchley's intelligence unit
because she'd been brought up
by a German nanny
and spoke the language fluently.
But having signed
the Official Secrets Act,
any loose talk
could have invoked terrible penalties.
The most serious one
for talking about secret matters
which we saw here would have been death.
So, obviously, one had to immediately
put one's mindset into such a position
that you wouldn't talk about anything,
anything you heard, saw or read.
And keeping shtoom
also meant that Betty was never able
to tell her parents where she was
or what she was doing.
They never knew
because they both died
before the veil of secrecy
was lifted in 1975.
So you said nothing, not only
during the war, but nothing until 1915?
That's right. And when 1975 came,
we felt we didn't want
to speak about anything.
It was very strange. You'd been so
used to keeping everything to yourself.
But the sudden release was,
well, a bit traumatic, really.
Are you allowed to tell me now
what sort of work you were doing?
- Yes, I am.
- What were you doing?
Well, to begin with,
I was registering the messages
which had come in from
our signal stations all over the world.
They all had to be recorded
very accurately.
They were put onto little cards,
in very strict order, date and so on,
so that the code breakers could call on
them at any time that they needed them.
Did you need any mathematics
in what you were doing?
- No.
- What did you need?
Common sense, really.
Betty went on to handle
decoded and translated
Japanese messages for Churchill.
But they had to he disguised
so that ii the enemy picked them up,
they wouldn't realise
that their codes had been broken.
It was all a bit crafty, really.
So you took a message
which had a meaning
and you put it into other words,
but, of course,
the meaning had to be exactly the same.
That's right. Absolutely.
- And that was your skill?
- That proved to be my skill, yes.
How do you feel
about the importance of the work?
Well, now, in very recent years,
I've realised just how important it was
and is to the nation as a whole.
To the world, in fact.
Because without it,
we might not be here.
Or we might be here
in rather difficult circumstances.
So I feel very proud of the fact
that I was part of this operation.
I feel very honoured
that Betty has been able
to share her secret
wartime experiences with me.
But it also makes me wonder
whether in today's age of disclosure,
we would have the same sense
of discipline and control.
Would we be able to keep a secret?
My journey is taking me
onto the branch line from Bletchley
as there's a village mentioned
in my "Bradshaw's"
that merits a detour east.
I've taken the Bedford branch
lo Fenny Stratford
in order to visit neighbouring Olney,
which Bradshaw's tells me
"is a town of lace makers,
with the house in which the poet
William Cowper lived until 1786".
And there follows
a bit of Cowper's verse.
"Yon cottager that weaves
at her own door,
Pillow and bobbins all her little store,
Content though mean."
There's more than one reference
to Cowper in Bradshaw's,
suggesting that many years
after the poet's death,
his praises were still being sung.
(church choir sings hymn)
Cowper was one of England's
most respected poets
in the late 18th
and early 19th centuries.
In Olney, he found a soulmate
in the parish priest, John Newton,
and they formed a working partnership
writing hymns.
St Peter and St Paul would have been
Gowper's parish church,
and I'm hoping um choirmaster
John Witchell
can unravel the mystery
of the Olney Hymns.
- Hello, John.
- Hello, nice to meet you.
Very good to see you.
Thank you very much, everybody.
Was that an Olney Hymn?
(John) That was an Olney Hymn.
That I think was Glorious Things
of Thee Are Spoken, wasn't it?
It was indeed.
It's one of the most well-known hymns
because it's sung so frequently.
Do you regard this as a kind oi
high point of hymn writing?
I think so, and I think there was
a certain feeling at Olney at the time,
with these two people,
they shared the same sort of approach
to their spiritual life,
and they spent a lot of time together.
And out of that came the Olney Hymns
as a means of teaching the congregation,
leaching the people.
In the 18th century,
a new fervour coursed through
the Anglican Church.
Evangelicals were committed
to converting those outside the faith,
and a good hymn melody
could sweep along the doubters.
(John) I think what they used to do
was to think, "Well, what's the theme
of the sermon this week?"
"We'd better write a hymn about it."
That's how they compiled the hymn book.
And the fact that my Bradshaw's
is referring to these hymns
almost a century after
they'd been written,
does that mean they had a
particular resonance for the Victorians?
I think so. I think the feeling
and the mood of the words,
the emphasis on grace and redemption
and atonement of sins,
all those things that were prevalent
at the time of Newton and Cowper
when they were at Olney, that continued
into the Victorian age as well.
Any idea how many Olney Hymns
were written?
Well, we're talking about 280-odd hymns
by Newton, and then Cowper, another 67.
And are there any others
that I might know?
I think you might know
quite a few actually, yes.
Listen to this
and see if you recognise it.
♪ The Lord has promised good to me
♪ His Word my hope secures
♪ He will my shield and portion be
(men) I He will my shield
and portion be
(all) ♪ As long as life endures
♪ As long as life endures
♪ As long, as long as life endures
- Do you recognise that one?
- You're teasing me. What is it?
- (laughter)
- I don't know that.
Well, it's commonly known
as Amazing Grace.
But that goes...
♪ Amazing grace
How sweet the sound
It does, and it just demonstrates
how you can sing a tune
of the same metre to the hymn.
So Amazing Grace
is the one that you know...
♪ Amazing grace
- As you sang...
- Well, son of as I sang.
Sort of, yeah.
Well, I wasn't much better.
But Hephzibah, which is this tune,
was the first tune that was sung
in the Victorian ages, as far as I know.
So when Bradshaw was around,
it was no doubt this was the tune
that was being sung,
and not the one that we sing.
So were you singing
one of the later verses?
Why didn't I hear the words I know?
Because we wanted to catch you out.
- (laughter)
- Well, you did!
♪ Amazing grace
♪ How sweet the sound
♪ That saved a wretch like me
♪ I once was lost
♪ Bu! now am found
♪ Was blind, but new I see
Listening to the hymns makes me wonder
whether perhaps we've lost something
that needs rediscovering.
It makes me even more curious
about Cowper and Newton's partnership.
I've been invited by Cowper Museum
trustee, Elizabeth Knight,
to find out more.
- Hello, Elizabeth.
- Hello, Michael.
I've come to find out
about William Cowper.
I can tell you a lot about him.
I'm going to lake you in
through his back door
because that's the way
all his visitors had to go,
because he wouldn't open his front door
because he had three pet hares
who lived in the house.
- Come with me.
- Thank you.
What is it about
all the English gentlemen
encountered on this journey so far?
Eccentricity seems to be a theme.
So John Newton as curate,
was he living close by Cowper's house?
Yes, fairly close.
Within a stone's throw, almost.
The two gardens virtually are joined.
There was just an orchard in between
that belonged to a Mrs Aspray,
and she allowed the two gentlemen to
visit one another through her orchard,
but she charged them a guinea a year
for the right of doing this.
Quite a stiff sum of money
in those days.
Yes. One pound and one shilling,
wasn't it?
So what brought about, then,
the partnership of the two men
writing hymns?
I think through the pastoral work,
that Cowper helped Newton in the town.
The town was, of course,
mostly poor lace makers,
and we think that he heard
the lace makers reciting their tells,
which is a form of counting
that helped them with their work,
and he thought, well,
if they can learn by rote,
perhaps I could teach from the Bible
that way.
And therefore he used the hymn writing
either to illustrate a biblical text,
a biblical story
or anything else that would
sort of make them learn something
about Christ and his life.
In fact, in the 18th century,
Olney had a large population
of around 2,000 people,
and most of them were desperately poor.
In one of his letters, Cowper wrote,
"lam an Eye Witness of their poverty
and do know that hundreds
of this little town
are upon the point of starving,
and that the most unremitting industry
is but barely sufficient
to keep them from it."
"There are nearly 1200 lace makers
in this beggarly town."
Now, over 200 years later,
starvation doesn't stalk Olney.
Bu! in those desperate days,
the hymns of Cowper and Newton
brought the hope of salvation.
After my enlightening visit to Olney,
I'm heading west from Fenny Stratford,
where I plan to
rejoin the main line north.
And after a day of spies and spires,
I aspire to find a bed for the night.
I'm alighting at Wolverton,
and "Bradshaw's" has
another recommendation for me
close by in Stony Stratford.
The high street in Stony Stratford
is straight as an arrow.
It's the old Roman road from
north to south, Watling Street,
and as such it has a good collection
of old coaching inns.
In the early 1700s,
these inns were a bit like our motels.
The Bull and the Cock both heard
their share oi travellers' tales,
which grew ever taller as the guests
moved between the two inns
and the drink flowed.
Hence the expression "cock and bull",
describing their increasingly
exaggerated stories.
The Bull back there looked pretty good,
but Bradshaw's recommends the Cock.
Sounds like the perfect place
tor me to stay the night.
I'm up early to visit Wolverton,
a town that owes its origins
directly to the railway.
Bradshaw's tells me that "Wolverton
has an increasing population of 2,730,
chiefly dependent on the London
and North Western Railway Company,
who have a depot
and extensive factories here...
And then Bradshaw's becomes
quite whimsical.
"While Crewe is the nursery, Wolverton
is the hospital for locomotives." Aw!
In the 1830s, the London-lo-Birmingham
railway needed locomotives,
and somewhere to repair them.
Wolverton became the Victorians'
first purpose-built railway town.
I'm here to meet local historian
Bill Griffiths
to find out more about
this unique railway centre.
Bill, this is a vast Victorian vista
of industrialisation, isn't it?
How quickly was Wolverton developed?
Well, if you go back lo the 1830s,
this was all farmland,
so we'd be standing
on a greenfield site,
just like Milton Keynes
was built on a greenfield site.
All of a sudden from 1837, 1838 onwards,
it became a small town,
and then grew very rapidly.
Within a very short time, there were
a thousand people working here.
Why was Wolverton chosen
for the engineering works?
(Bill) There was
a huge engine shed here.
It, I think,
could accommodate 36 locomotives.
A lot of those were kept on scene, so
those locomotives arrived from London.
The early locomotives,
the Bury locomotives,
just couldn't do the 112 miles.
They had to stop and be re-serviced.
And at that time there was a thinking
that all locomotives
should be serviced after about 50 miles.
It was even contemplated to have an
Act of Parliament to make that happen.
It must have been amazing in its day.
Mind you, it's still doing
important work by the look of it.
What's going on here?
They're refurbishing
one of the most modern trains,
one of the pride of the fleet,
I suppose,
one of the trains that runs to Heathrow.
Well, it looks as if
it's pretty well ready.
I'm quite interested in seeing
not just the works but also the town.
- Shall we take a stroll?
- Let's have a look.
I'm beginning to spot
that the houses and the streets
have been hid out and planned
specifically for railway workers.
Is the town important
in railway history?
Incredibly important.
I think it's as important as the works.
It was the first town in the world
built for the railway.
And it was also built on a grid system
very much like Milton Keynes
is built on a grid system,
and the layout was such
that in the rows of houses,
you had the cottages in the middle,
and then at the end,
you had a slightly better quality
building that was for the foreman.
That social structure was reflected
in their daily life as well,
because at work, the foremen would wear
bowler hats and a three-piece suit,
whereas the men would wear
their appropriate clothing,
depending very much
upon what they were doing.
(Michael)
Was there something particular
about the nature of work
for the railways
that made the company behave in this way
towards its workers?
Yes, I think there was. I think
the railway was the new industry,
so it's very much perhaps like IT today,
or perhaps the Rolls-Royce
that we know of.
It was a company that wanted
to encourage a skilled workforce,
a respectable workforce,
a workforce that would be contributing
to the locomotive building of the time.
A model town built by a model employer.
A forward-thinking yet paternalistic
Victorian society made ail this happen.
But sadly, over 150 years later,
while the houses are still here,
the line linking Wolverton
to Newport Pagnell has been axed.
Now the line has become a cycle track,
but it remains my best way
to my next destination.
Up until the 1960s,
the engines that ran on the line
were affectionately known
as Newport Nobby.
The line was built to carry workers
to the Wolverton railway works,
and at peak times, the workmen's trains
could have as many as six coaches.
But while the line has faded
into history,
the town is still the home of
an ancient craft: vellum making.
And as a former Member of Parliament,
I'm very familiar
with the great acts at law
written so beautifully
on this very specially crafted skin,
and I welcome the opportunity
to see how it's made.
Master craftsman Paul Wright
has been making vellum for five years.
(laughs) The smell, first of all;
the smell is overpowering.
- I'm almost gagging-
- (Laughs)
And now I find, what,
bits of animal remains?
I mean, the whole thing
is smelling of farmyard and cow.
(Paul) What we do here
is we pretty much recreate
what has been done
for 4,000 to 5,000 years.
The reason it looks medieval
is because it almost is medieval.
And... what's going on with it here?
(Paul) In these vats
that you see around you,
there are certain chemicals,
and the chemicals
will effectively loosen the hair,
and they will start to decay
the flesh from the flesh side.
(Michael) I can tell you
that it smells rotten.
(Paul laughs)
All the skins that Paul uses
are a waste product from farming.
What is vellum, what is parchment,
and what skins can you make them out of?
A vellum is the whole skin,
typically for us, of a goat or a calf,
A parchment typically is from a sheep,
but we've split the skin.
So the parchment is the finer material?
It is the finer material.
If you imagine a book,
the vellum would be
the bindings of the book
and the parchment would be the pages.
If you were very, very wealthy,
even the pages would be of vellum,
and they are absolutely stunning.
A little tale for you.
So prized was the finest manuscript
that the master vellum makers
would be kidnapped,
and that's the last he'd see
of his family,
so determined were they that
only his products went to them.
I hope things
are a bit less onerous now.
(laughs)
Now, I'm not sure
Neatly want to get too good at this,
but I suppose
I've got to start somewhere.
Now, you want
to sort of lean against this...
The big knife is called a scudder.
I've got to take all the hair off,
keeping this valor-sharp blade
as fiat as possible,
because the skin
is the writing surface.
(Michael) This is like shaving
with one of those open razors, isn't it?
I dare say somebody else
would go a bit faster than I'm going.
Well, you should really do
probably 15 whole vellums a day
to earn your bag of corn.
I suggest at this rate
you're going to go somewhat hungry.
(both laugh)
Once the hair's been removed
and there are no ugly marks left,
the skin's tied onto a frame
to be worked more finely.
Now, this is Lee.
Lee is a master vellum maker.
What he's doing there is he's cleaning
the flesh from the back of the skin.
This looks more physical
and more skilled,
so there's more room to make mistakes.
- Hello, Lee.
- Hello.
- Hello.
- Nice to meet you.
- So you're a master vellum maker.
- I am.
How many are you in Britain?
I'm the only one
and I have one apprentice.
So, have you any tips,
master vellum maker?
Keeping your hands like this,
and it's punching into the skin.
So you're... See this flesh here?
You want to crunch the knife,
you want to get a roll started,
and then you get underneath the flesh.
It's a punching action.
- I can be fairly vigorous, can I?
- You can go as hard as you like.
- Really?
- Yes.
(Michael) Don't seem to be getting
that much off compared with you.
- What am I doing wrong here?
- You are trying...
- There's a bit.
- There you go.
You want to try and get a roll started
so you're digging into the flesh.
- You do this all day?
- This is my afternoon work.
- (sighs)
- (laughter)
After the process
of shaving and scraping,
there's still much work to be done,
but I'm beginning to see
how strong vellum is.
Considering documents
like the Dead Sea Scrolls
or illuminated manuscripts
of the Middle Ages,
I can understand why they've survived,
because vellum doesn't tear or rot.
So when you've shaved and you've scraped
and you've shaved and you've scraped,
this is what you end up with.
(Michael) It's absolutely marvellous.
It is silky, silky smooth.
What would that be used for, Paul?
This one here
may well become an Act of Parliament.
Ah, yes. Actually, your room here
reminds me of the room in Parliament
where the Acts of Parliament are stored.
Because the old Acts of Parliament which
are vellum are wound up into a scroll,
and there are, I suppose,
hundreds or thousands of them.
Each one is identified
by a little label.
And I've seen them rolled out
in front of me,
and I've seen Henry VIII's signature.
It lasts for so long.
Long after everyone else has gone.
(Paul) This is the stuff.
As a little memento
of your day's visit here,
on your programme, you constantly
have your book in your hand,
so we've created this little bookmark
with an image of a train on it,
and it says,
"Awarded lo Mr Michael Portillo
in recognition of his appointment as
an honorary vellum and parchment maker".
What you have done today,
less than half a dozen people
have done in the world.
(Michael) That is most handsome,
isn't it? Look at that.
A beautiful locomotive
and a lovely piece of vellum,
and absolutely the perfect gift
for a man who lives by his Bradshaw's.
(laughs)
This section of my journey
has focused on two generations,
whose achievements
should be recorded on vellum.
The early Victorians,
who with brains and brawn
built the railway works at Wolverton.
And those who,
during the Second World War,
with intellect and discretion,
broke Hitler's codes.
The first generation bequeathed to us
the benefits of industry,
and the second secured our freedom
so that we may enjoy them.
On the next leg of my journey,
I discover a tradition
unaltered since Victorian times...
It's like most things in life.
You can learn it in two weeks
but it takes a lifetime
to be any good at it.
I hear about the man who changed
education around the world...
These were people
capable of running the British Empire.
Very much so, and that was part
of Arnold's great reform.
“And I see how a city
rode out economic cycles.
This is the forerunner of all modern
bicycles, known as a safety bicycle.
For the good reason that
everything that came before was not.
Exactly.
transformed travel in Britain.
His name was George Bradshaw,
and his railway guides inspired
the Victorians to take to the tracks.
Stop by stop, he told them where to go,
what to see and where to stay,
and now, 170 years later,
I'm aboard for a series of rail
adventures across the United Kingdom
to see what of Bradshaw's Britain
remains.
I'm continuing my journey
on the first inter-city line
built out of the nation's capital,
by Robert Stephenson,
between London and Birmingham.
I'm now in North Buckinghamshire,
transformed since Bradshaw's day
by the construction oi Milton Keynes.
But I shall be focusing
on towns and villages
mentioned in my 19th-century guidebook.
I began on the commuter lines
of London.
I'm heading north
on the London Midland line,
and on to the manufacturing heartlands
of Northamptonshire and Warwickshire.
After making stops
in the East Midlands,
my journey will conclude in Yorkshire.
Starting in Buckinghamshire
at Bletchley,
I cross to Fenny Stratford
on the branch line,
before heading north to
the Victorian new town of Wolverton.
This leg ends in Newport Pagnell.
Today, I meet one of the Second World
War's most secret agents, “
It was all a bit crafty, really.
So you took a message
which had a meaning
and you put it into other words,
but, of course, the meaning
- had to be exactly the same.
- That's right.
I'll be testing my knowledge
of 18th-century hymns...
Do you recognise that one?
- You're teasing me. What is it?
- (laughter)
and getting to grips with
the ancient craft of vellum making.
- Do you do this all day?
- This is my afternoon work.
(both laugh)
My first stop today
is Bletchley Station.
Bradshaw's tells me of its
pivotal position on the rail network.
"From Bletchley, branch rails turn off
left to Winslow, Oxford and Banbury,
and on the right to Bedford."
Before the Beeching axe fell
in the 1960s,
Bletchley formed a junction
between the Varsity Line,
which connected the intellectual
powerhouses of Oxford and Cambridge,
with the London-to-Birmingham route.
And during World War ll
and our struggle against Nazi Germany,
the junction assumed
a more enigmatic role.
As Hitler's Luftwaffe bombed Britain,
for a time,
a successful German invasion
hoked frighteningly possible.
But Britain was able to fightback
more effectively
thanks to top-secret work
undertaken here.
Nowadays, most of us
have heard of Bletchley Park
and its secret code breakers,
but I hadn't appreciated
that it owed its location
to the busy railway junction nearby.
The Secret Intelligence Service wanted
easy access for Britain's top brains,
and with Bletchley Park
halfway between Oxford and Cambridge,
this stretch became known
as the Varsity Line.
But not everyone stationed here
was a professor.
I have a very special appointment
with a Bletchley veteran,
90-year-old Betty Webb.
Great pleasure to be able
to join you for some tea.
(Betty) This is very nice, isn't it?
(Michael) Had you any idea
what you were coming for?
Absolutely no idea.
I'd never heard of Bletchley,
and certainly had not heard
of the operation
that I was about to be involved in,
so it was all a complete shock.
When I came here after signing
the Official Secrets Act,
I was interviewed by Major Tester,
and joined his group which had offices
above the ballroom here.
Although only 18, Belly was useful
lo Bletchley's intelligence unit
because she'd been brought up
by a German nanny
and spoke the language fluently.
But having signed
the Official Secrets Act,
any loose talk
could have invoked terrible penalties.
The most serious one
for talking about secret matters
which we saw here would have been death.
So, obviously, one had to immediately
put one's mindset into such a position
that you wouldn't talk about anything,
anything you heard, saw or read.
And keeping shtoom
also meant that Betty was never able
to tell her parents where she was
or what she was doing.
They never knew
because they both died
before the veil of secrecy
was lifted in 1975.
So you said nothing, not only
during the war, but nothing until 1915?
That's right. And when 1975 came,
we felt we didn't want
to speak about anything.
It was very strange. You'd been so
used to keeping everything to yourself.
But the sudden release was,
well, a bit traumatic, really.
Are you allowed to tell me now
what sort of work you were doing?
- Yes, I am.
- What were you doing?
Well, to begin with,
I was registering the messages
which had come in from
our signal stations all over the world.
They all had to be recorded
very accurately.
They were put onto little cards,
in very strict order, date and so on,
so that the code breakers could call on
them at any time that they needed them.
Did you need any mathematics
in what you were doing?
- No.
- What did you need?
Common sense, really.
Betty went on to handle
decoded and translated
Japanese messages for Churchill.
But they had to he disguised
so that ii the enemy picked them up,
they wouldn't realise
that their codes had been broken.
It was all a bit crafty, really.
So you took a message
which had a meaning
and you put it into other words,
but, of course,
the meaning had to be exactly the same.
That's right. Absolutely.
- And that was your skill?
- That proved to be my skill, yes.
How do you feel
about the importance of the work?
Well, now, in very recent years,
I've realised just how important it was
and is to the nation as a whole.
To the world, in fact.
Because without it,
we might not be here.
Or we might be here
in rather difficult circumstances.
So I feel very proud of the fact
that I was part of this operation.
I feel very honoured
that Betty has been able
to share her secret
wartime experiences with me.
But it also makes me wonder
whether in today's age of disclosure,
we would have the same sense
of discipline and control.
Would we be able to keep a secret?
My journey is taking me
onto the branch line from Bletchley
as there's a village mentioned
in my "Bradshaw's"
that merits a detour east.
I've taken the Bedford branch
lo Fenny Stratford
in order to visit neighbouring Olney,
which Bradshaw's tells me
"is a town of lace makers,
with the house in which the poet
William Cowper lived until 1786".
And there follows
a bit of Cowper's verse.
"Yon cottager that weaves
at her own door,
Pillow and bobbins all her little store,
Content though mean."
There's more than one reference
to Cowper in Bradshaw's,
suggesting that many years
after the poet's death,
his praises were still being sung.
(church choir sings hymn)
Cowper was one of England's
most respected poets
in the late 18th
and early 19th centuries.
In Olney, he found a soulmate
in the parish priest, John Newton,
and they formed a working partnership
writing hymns.
St Peter and St Paul would have been
Gowper's parish church,
and I'm hoping um choirmaster
John Witchell
can unravel the mystery
of the Olney Hymns.
- Hello, John.
- Hello, nice to meet you.
Very good to see you.
Thank you very much, everybody.
Was that an Olney Hymn?
(John) That was an Olney Hymn.
That I think was Glorious Things
of Thee Are Spoken, wasn't it?
It was indeed.
It's one of the most well-known hymns
because it's sung so frequently.
Do you regard this as a kind oi
high point of hymn writing?
I think so, and I think there was
a certain feeling at Olney at the time,
with these two people,
they shared the same sort of approach
to their spiritual life,
and they spent a lot of time together.
And out of that came the Olney Hymns
as a means of teaching the congregation,
leaching the people.
In the 18th century,
a new fervour coursed through
the Anglican Church.
Evangelicals were committed
to converting those outside the faith,
and a good hymn melody
could sweep along the doubters.
(John) I think what they used to do
was to think, "Well, what's the theme
of the sermon this week?"
"We'd better write a hymn about it."
That's how they compiled the hymn book.
And the fact that my Bradshaw's
is referring to these hymns
almost a century after
they'd been written,
does that mean they had a
particular resonance for the Victorians?
I think so. I think the feeling
and the mood of the words,
the emphasis on grace and redemption
and atonement of sins,
all those things that were prevalent
at the time of Newton and Cowper
when they were at Olney, that continued
into the Victorian age as well.
Any idea how many Olney Hymns
were written?
Well, we're talking about 280-odd hymns
by Newton, and then Cowper, another 67.
And are there any others
that I might know?
I think you might know
quite a few actually, yes.
Listen to this
and see if you recognise it.
♪ The Lord has promised good to me
♪ His Word my hope secures
♪ He will my shield and portion be
(men) I He will my shield
and portion be
(all) ♪ As long as life endures
♪ As long as life endures
♪ As long, as long as life endures
- Do you recognise that one?
- You're teasing me. What is it?
- (laughter)
- I don't know that.
Well, it's commonly known
as Amazing Grace.
But that goes...
♪ Amazing grace
How sweet the sound
It does, and it just demonstrates
how you can sing a tune
of the same metre to the hymn.
So Amazing Grace
is the one that you know...
♪ Amazing grace
- As you sang...
- Well, son of as I sang.
Sort of, yeah.
Well, I wasn't much better.
But Hephzibah, which is this tune,
was the first tune that was sung
in the Victorian ages, as far as I know.
So when Bradshaw was around,
it was no doubt this was the tune
that was being sung,
and not the one that we sing.
So were you singing
one of the later verses?
Why didn't I hear the words I know?
Because we wanted to catch you out.
- (laughter)
- Well, you did!
♪ Amazing grace
♪ How sweet the sound
♪ That saved a wretch like me
♪ I once was lost
♪ Bu! now am found
♪ Was blind, but new I see
Listening to the hymns makes me wonder
whether perhaps we've lost something
that needs rediscovering.
It makes me even more curious
about Cowper and Newton's partnership.
I've been invited by Cowper Museum
trustee, Elizabeth Knight,
to find out more.
- Hello, Elizabeth.
- Hello, Michael.
I've come to find out
about William Cowper.
I can tell you a lot about him.
I'm going to lake you in
through his back door
because that's the way
all his visitors had to go,
because he wouldn't open his front door
because he had three pet hares
who lived in the house.
- Come with me.
- Thank you.
What is it about
all the English gentlemen
encountered on this journey so far?
Eccentricity seems to be a theme.
So John Newton as curate,
was he living close by Cowper's house?
Yes, fairly close.
Within a stone's throw, almost.
The two gardens virtually are joined.
There was just an orchard in between
that belonged to a Mrs Aspray,
and she allowed the two gentlemen to
visit one another through her orchard,
but she charged them a guinea a year
for the right of doing this.
Quite a stiff sum of money
in those days.
Yes. One pound and one shilling,
wasn't it?
So what brought about, then,
the partnership of the two men
writing hymns?
I think through the pastoral work,
that Cowper helped Newton in the town.
The town was, of course,
mostly poor lace makers,
and we think that he heard
the lace makers reciting their tells,
which is a form of counting
that helped them with their work,
and he thought, well,
if they can learn by rote,
perhaps I could teach from the Bible
that way.
And therefore he used the hymn writing
either to illustrate a biblical text,
a biblical story
or anything else that would
sort of make them learn something
about Christ and his life.
In fact, in the 18th century,
Olney had a large population
of around 2,000 people,
and most of them were desperately poor.
In one of his letters, Cowper wrote,
"lam an Eye Witness of their poverty
and do know that hundreds
of this little town
are upon the point of starving,
and that the most unremitting industry
is but barely sufficient
to keep them from it."
"There are nearly 1200 lace makers
in this beggarly town."
Now, over 200 years later,
starvation doesn't stalk Olney.
Bu! in those desperate days,
the hymns of Cowper and Newton
brought the hope of salvation.
After my enlightening visit to Olney,
I'm heading west from Fenny Stratford,
where I plan to
rejoin the main line north.
And after a day of spies and spires,
I aspire to find a bed for the night.
I'm alighting at Wolverton,
and "Bradshaw's" has
another recommendation for me
close by in Stony Stratford.
The high street in Stony Stratford
is straight as an arrow.
It's the old Roman road from
north to south, Watling Street,
and as such it has a good collection
of old coaching inns.
In the early 1700s,
these inns were a bit like our motels.
The Bull and the Cock both heard
their share oi travellers' tales,
which grew ever taller as the guests
moved between the two inns
and the drink flowed.
Hence the expression "cock and bull",
describing their increasingly
exaggerated stories.
The Bull back there looked pretty good,
but Bradshaw's recommends the Cock.
Sounds like the perfect place
tor me to stay the night.
I'm up early to visit Wolverton,
a town that owes its origins
directly to the railway.
Bradshaw's tells me that "Wolverton
has an increasing population of 2,730,
chiefly dependent on the London
and North Western Railway Company,
who have a depot
and extensive factories here...
And then Bradshaw's becomes
quite whimsical.
"While Crewe is the nursery, Wolverton
is the hospital for locomotives." Aw!
In the 1830s, the London-lo-Birmingham
railway needed locomotives,
and somewhere to repair them.
Wolverton became the Victorians'
first purpose-built railway town.
I'm here to meet local historian
Bill Griffiths
to find out more about
this unique railway centre.
Bill, this is a vast Victorian vista
of industrialisation, isn't it?
How quickly was Wolverton developed?
Well, if you go back lo the 1830s,
this was all farmland,
so we'd be standing
on a greenfield site,
just like Milton Keynes
was built on a greenfield site.
All of a sudden from 1837, 1838 onwards,
it became a small town,
and then grew very rapidly.
Within a very short time, there were
a thousand people working here.
Why was Wolverton chosen
for the engineering works?
(Bill) There was
a huge engine shed here.
It, I think,
could accommodate 36 locomotives.
A lot of those were kept on scene, so
those locomotives arrived from London.
The early locomotives,
the Bury locomotives,
just couldn't do the 112 miles.
They had to stop and be re-serviced.
And at that time there was a thinking
that all locomotives
should be serviced after about 50 miles.
It was even contemplated to have an
Act of Parliament to make that happen.
It must have been amazing in its day.
Mind you, it's still doing
important work by the look of it.
What's going on here?
They're refurbishing
one of the most modern trains,
one of the pride of the fleet,
I suppose,
one of the trains that runs to Heathrow.
Well, it looks as if
it's pretty well ready.
I'm quite interested in seeing
not just the works but also the town.
- Shall we take a stroll?
- Let's have a look.
I'm beginning to spot
that the houses and the streets
have been hid out and planned
specifically for railway workers.
Is the town important
in railway history?
Incredibly important.
I think it's as important as the works.
It was the first town in the world
built for the railway.
And it was also built on a grid system
very much like Milton Keynes
is built on a grid system,
and the layout was such
that in the rows of houses,
you had the cottages in the middle,
and then at the end,
you had a slightly better quality
building that was for the foreman.
That social structure was reflected
in their daily life as well,
because at work, the foremen would wear
bowler hats and a three-piece suit,
whereas the men would wear
their appropriate clothing,
depending very much
upon what they were doing.
(Michael)
Was there something particular
about the nature of work
for the railways
that made the company behave in this way
towards its workers?
Yes, I think there was. I think
the railway was the new industry,
so it's very much perhaps like IT today,
or perhaps the Rolls-Royce
that we know of.
It was a company that wanted
to encourage a skilled workforce,
a respectable workforce,
a workforce that would be contributing
to the locomotive building of the time.
A model town built by a model employer.
A forward-thinking yet paternalistic
Victorian society made ail this happen.
But sadly, over 150 years later,
while the houses are still here,
the line linking Wolverton
to Newport Pagnell has been axed.
Now the line has become a cycle track,
but it remains my best way
to my next destination.
Up until the 1960s,
the engines that ran on the line
were affectionately known
as Newport Nobby.
The line was built to carry workers
to the Wolverton railway works,
and at peak times, the workmen's trains
could have as many as six coaches.
But while the line has faded
into history,
the town is still the home of
an ancient craft: vellum making.
And as a former Member of Parliament,
I'm very familiar
with the great acts at law
written so beautifully
on this very specially crafted skin,
and I welcome the opportunity
to see how it's made.
Master craftsman Paul Wright
has been making vellum for five years.
(laughs) The smell, first of all;
the smell is overpowering.
- I'm almost gagging-
- (Laughs)
And now I find, what,
bits of animal remains?
I mean, the whole thing
is smelling of farmyard and cow.
(Paul) What we do here
is we pretty much recreate
what has been done
for 4,000 to 5,000 years.
The reason it looks medieval
is because it almost is medieval.
And... what's going on with it here?
(Paul) In these vats
that you see around you,
there are certain chemicals,
and the chemicals
will effectively loosen the hair,
and they will start to decay
the flesh from the flesh side.
(Michael) I can tell you
that it smells rotten.
(Paul laughs)
All the skins that Paul uses
are a waste product from farming.
What is vellum, what is parchment,
and what skins can you make them out of?
A vellum is the whole skin,
typically for us, of a goat or a calf,
A parchment typically is from a sheep,
but we've split the skin.
So the parchment is the finer material?
It is the finer material.
If you imagine a book,
the vellum would be
the bindings of the book
and the parchment would be the pages.
If you were very, very wealthy,
even the pages would be of vellum,
and they are absolutely stunning.
A little tale for you.
So prized was the finest manuscript
that the master vellum makers
would be kidnapped,
and that's the last he'd see
of his family,
so determined were they that
only his products went to them.
I hope things
are a bit less onerous now.
(laughs)
Now, I'm not sure
Neatly want to get too good at this,
but I suppose
I've got to start somewhere.
Now, you want
to sort of lean against this...
The big knife is called a scudder.
I've got to take all the hair off,
keeping this valor-sharp blade
as fiat as possible,
because the skin
is the writing surface.
(Michael) This is like shaving
with one of those open razors, isn't it?
I dare say somebody else
would go a bit faster than I'm going.
Well, you should really do
probably 15 whole vellums a day
to earn your bag of corn.
I suggest at this rate
you're going to go somewhat hungry.
(both laugh)
Once the hair's been removed
and there are no ugly marks left,
the skin's tied onto a frame
to be worked more finely.
Now, this is Lee.
Lee is a master vellum maker.
What he's doing there is he's cleaning
the flesh from the back of the skin.
This looks more physical
and more skilled,
so there's more room to make mistakes.
- Hello, Lee.
- Hello.
- Hello.
- Nice to meet you.
- So you're a master vellum maker.
- I am.
How many are you in Britain?
I'm the only one
and I have one apprentice.
So, have you any tips,
master vellum maker?
Keeping your hands like this,
and it's punching into the skin.
So you're... See this flesh here?
You want to crunch the knife,
you want to get a roll started,
and then you get underneath the flesh.
It's a punching action.
- I can be fairly vigorous, can I?
- You can go as hard as you like.
- Really?
- Yes.
(Michael) Don't seem to be getting
that much off compared with you.
- What am I doing wrong here?
- You are trying...
- There's a bit.
- There you go.
You want to try and get a roll started
so you're digging into the flesh.
- You do this all day?
- This is my afternoon work.
- (sighs)
- (laughter)
After the process
of shaving and scraping,
there's still much work to be done,
but I'm beginning to see
how strong vellum is.
Considering documents
like the Dead Sea Scrolls
or illuminated manuscripts
of the Middle Ages,
I can understand why they've survived,
because vellum doesn't tear or rot.
So when you've shaved and you've scraped
and you've shaved and you've scraped,
this is what you end up with.
(Michael) It's absolutely marvellous.
It is silky, silky smooth.
What would that be used for, Paul?
This one here
may well become an Act of Parliament.
Ah, yes. Actually, your room here
reminds me of the room in Parliament
where the Acts of Parliament are stored.
Because the old Acts of Parliament which
are vellum are wound up into a scroll,
and there are, I suppose,
hundreds or thousands of them.
Each one is identified
by a little label.
And I've seen them rolled out
in front of me,
and I've seen Henry VIII's signature.
It lasts for so long.
Long after everyone else has gone.
(Paul) This is the stuff.
As a little memento
of your day's visit here,
on your programme, you constantly
have your book in your hand,
so we've created this little bookmark
with an image of a train on it,
and it says,
"Awarded lo Mr Michael Portillo
in recognition of his appointment as
an honorary vellum and parchment maker".
What you have done today,
less than half a dozen people
have done in the world.
(Michael) That is most handsome,
isn't it? Look at that.
A beautiful locomotive
and a lovely piece of vellum,
and absolutely the perfect gift
for a man who lives by his Bradshaw's.
(laughs)
This section of my journey
has focused on two generations,
whose achievements
should be recorded on vellum.
The early Victorians,
who with brains and brawn
built the railway works at Wolverton.
And those who,
during the Second World War,
with intellect and discretion,
broke Hitler's codes.
The first generation bequeathed to us
the benefits of industry,
and the second secured our freedom
so that we may enjoy them.
On the next leg of my journey,
I discover a tradition
unaltered since Victorian times...
It's like most things in life.
You can learn it in two weeks
but it takes a lifetime
to be any good at it.
I hear about the man who changed
education around the world...
These were people
capable of running the British Empire.
Very much so, and that was part
of Arnold's great reform.
“And I see how a city
rode out economic cycles.
This is the forerunner of all modern
bicycles, known as a safety bicycle.
For the good reason that
everything that came before was not.
Exactly.