Great British Railway Journeys (2010–…): Season 8, Episode 8 - Chapeltown to Doncaster - full transcript

[OPENING THEME MUSIC]

For Victorian Britons, George
Bradshaw was a household name.

At a time when railways were new,

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

I'm using a Bradshaw's Guide

to understand how trains
transformed Britain.

Its landscape, its industry,
society and leisure time.

As I cries-cross the
country 150 years later,

it helps me to discover the
Britain of today.

My rail journey from
Blackpool to Harwich

progresses through Yorkshire.



I hope to get out into the country
to appreciate the wildness of nature

which so appealed to the
romanticism of Victorians.

Back in the cities, entrepreneurs
who'd made a fortune,

like steel manufacturers in
Sheffield,

saw the importance of
investing in better education

if Britain was to stay ahead,

and I'm hoping to get a leg up
myself.

My route is taking me across England
to the southern edge of East Anglia.

I started in Blackpool

and moved through the industrial
cities of northern England.

From Manchester,
I'll cross the Peak District,

following the route of the North
Country Continental rail service

and I'll traverse the Fens to
end at Essex's gateway to Europe.

Today, my journey begins by
scaling the heights hear Chapeltown



before heading south to Sheffield.

From there, I travel north-east to
Conisbrough and finish in the

great railway town of Doncaster.

'On this journey...'

Up there?
- That's the one.

'I climb beyond
my comfort zone...'

Put another foot on the next hold.
- All the way over there?

Yeah, you'll be fine,
I've got you nice and safe.

'uncover a museum of
curiosities.

If a predator tries to
grab them they'll ooze

out all this slime
and the predator will

literally kind of spit
the hagfish out in disgust.

'and embrace a new
language with open arms.'

This is "have to".
- Oh. That's have to.

Yeah.
That's good, yes.

My first stop will be Chapeltown.

Bradshaw's mentions Wharncliffe
Crags, and the Dragon's Den,

from all of which may be
obtained the most beautiful views.

For some Victorians,

it wasn't enough to observe the
lofty crags from a distance.

They had to be tackled,
tamed, conquered,

or perish in the attempt.

'The Victorians would
have alighted at Deepcar,

'but that station closed in 1959
and the nearest stop today'

is Chapeltown, north of Sheffield.

From there it's a six-mile journey
to the foot of Wharncliffe Crags.

In Bradshaw's time, Victorians would
take their constitutionals atop the

crags to admire the views.

But that was too genteel
for the flintier adventurer,

who invented a vertical
challenge, rock climbing.

I've come to meet writer
and climber Graham Hoey

to get a foothold on the story.

Good morning, Mike.
What a perfect morning.

Absolutely wonderful, isn't it?
How far to Wharncliffe Crags?

About ten minutes or so, I think.
- Best foot forward?

OK.

'The crags were the habitat of the
legendary Dragon of Wantley.'

A cave at the southern end of the
cliffs is named Dragon's Den and

featured in Sir Walter Scott's
novel, Ivanhoe.

These intimidating giant broken rock
structures would easily suggest

superhuman interventions.

Here we are approaching the crags.

When did rock climbing get going?

Well, it wasn't until the
late 19th century, really.

Until then, it was just a small part

of what was seen to be the far
grander sport of mountaineering,

a pastime that took place
in the Alps

in the summer and winter seasons.

And what was the distinction between
mountaineering and rock climbing?

Well, in mountaineering, the whole
aim really was to get to the summit,

not necessarily by

the most difficult route,
often the easiest route.

That often involved scrambling,

some snow and ice work,
and sometimes some rock climbing.

But the rock climbing wasn't the

aim of it and often the rock
climbing wasn't that difficult.

And how did that change here?

Well, in 1885, Jimmy Puttrell
came out

and started climbing alone
on these rocks.

He was just coming to enjoy himself.
There was no summit to be attained.

He just got pleasure from climbing the rocks,

and inventing ways up and
ways down.

He turned it into an
outdoor gymnasium, really.

Puttrell climbed without ropes
or safety devices.

He popularised what is now known
as gritstone climbing.

By 1900, there were
about 35 recorded routes

on Wharncliffe Crags.

He died in 1939 at the
age of 70,

after living to see his sport
taken up across the world.

How has the sport moved on?

Well, Jimmy Puttrell would not
recognise the

standard of rock climbing
nowadays.

Climbers have got much fitter,

much stronger, and rock climbers
are able to really pull up on just the

very end of one finger. On
and overhanging wall,

the feet would leave the rock

and they would go through to
a similar hold.

It's just absolutely phenomenal.

Well, it sounds completely
terrifying.

Today, the Peak District is celebrated

as the UK's climbing capital.

A fitting tribute to Jimmy Puttrell.

OK, Michael, this is the climb
we're going to do.

It's called Alpha Crack and
was climbed by Jimmy Puttrell

sometime around 1885.

Up there?
- That's the one.

And what will stop me falling off?

A rope which will
take about 640 kilos.

That should just about
cover it, I think.

OK. Tie me on.

OK, right. I'm now going to climb to
the top of the route and I'm going

to secure myself on the ledge.

I'm then going to take the rope
in and it will come tight on you.

When it comes tight on you,
I want you to say, "That's me."

That's me.
- And I will say,

"Climb when you're ready."

And you will tell me when you're
climbing by saying, "Climbing."

Wait till I say OK
and then you set off.

OK.

Good luck.
- Thank you.

Thankfully, safety precautions have
developed since Puttrell's day,

but I find it still
a major challenge.

Taking in.

That's me.
- Climb when you're ready, Michael.

This is the insanest
thing I ever did.

I just signed up to travel by train.

I'm climbing.
- OK.

Trust your balance.

Go left now.
- Left?

Yes. Excellent.

You're a natural, Michael.

OK.
- OK, that's lovely, that.

OK.
- OK.

Now what?
- Keep going across.

Put your other foot
on the next hold.

All the way over there?
- Yeah, you'll be fine,

I've got you nice and safe.

With my right foot?
- Yes, that's lovely, that.

Ah, lovely.

That's it, keep moving across.

That's lovely.

There's a nice... That's it.

Where do I hold on?
- That's it.

And there's the top just here.

That's it. Lovely. That's it.

There?
- That's the one.

Press with your right foot.

Fantastic. That's the one.
- OK.

Now where does the foot 90?
- And up again.

That's it, you're there.
- OK.

You're doing fine, big pull.

Big pull.
- Pull up. That's it.

You OK?

Yep.
- Come on.

Fantastic!

MICHAEL: Amazing!

Superb.

Of course, we've still
got a bit to do here.

Yeah.

OK.
- Right.

Ah!

Graham, I've made it.
- Well done. That's superb.

Fantastic View.

The most terrifying
thing I've ever done.

I will never do it again.

Thank you, Graham.
- OK, Michael.

Without encountering a
single fire-breathing dragon,

today has been very scary.

Returning to Chapeltown, I'm taking
a short seven-mile journey south.

My next stop will be Sheffield,

which my guidebook describes as the
great seat of the cutlery trade.

It's also a great city of learning,
partly because some of those whose

bread and butter
was knives and forks

helped others to learn their
ABC and pi R squared.

Sheffield is known as Steel City
and steel is still produced here,

but the traditional heavy steel industry
has been in decline for 40 years.

The city's changed into a
modern business hub

with award-winning public spaces
and thriving cultural institutions.

Sheffield's population
increased tenfold

during the Industrial Revolution.

As the city grew,
so did its need for education.

Local steel magnate and
philanthropist Mark Firth

paid for the opening
of Firth College in 1879

to teach arts and science.

The college became part of
today's University of Sheffield.

During the 18803,

one of the college's
founding professors was inspired

by the new theories of
evolution to found a pioneering

natural-history collection
which still exists.

I'm meeting Dr Nicola Hemmings,

a research fellow in the
university's department of

animal and plant sciences.

Nicola?

Hello.
- Hi, Michael.

What an extraordinary collection
of skeletons and other specimens.

How does it come to be here?

So this collection was established
by Alfred Denny, who was the first

professor of biology at the
University of Sheffield.

Legend has it that he arrived with a
single dog skull and from then on he

amassed this amazing collection

of different skeletons
and taxidermy specimens.

Did Alfred Denny go out and
make the collection himself

or did he acquire it?

We actually don't know a lot of
the history of many of our specimens

because records were lost in
the World War II bombings,

but we do know that there was
at least one private zoo

in Sheffield in the late 18003
which, when animals died,

they would be given or
bought by the university.

And Alfred Denny would have

prepared many of these
specimens himself, as well.

So what sort of contribution was
Denny able to make to the college,

to the university,
with the aid of his collection?

This kind of collection
is absolutely crucial

for teaching students
the evolutionary relationships

between different species.

Denny's collection brought
far-flung species to Sheffield.

For over a century, the
collection remained obscure,

open only to staff
and for student research.

It finally opened its
doors to the public in 2012.

So what you can see here is a
very typical collection

of what we call wet specimens,
preserved in some kind of fixative,

suspended in these
lovely glass jars.

I kind of think of this as much
of a historic collection as it is

a zoological collection.

These bell jars could be Victorian

and the liquid wouldn't have
changed?

No, I mean, it will have
probably been topped up since then,

but certainly these
are as they were,

collected and preserved over 100
years ago.

What on Earth are these things?

This one here is a hagfish.

I know they look a
little bit disgusting,

but they are absolutely amazing.

They produce loads of slime and so
if a predator tries to grab them,

they'll ooze out all this slime and
the predator will literally kind of

spit the hagfish out in disgust.

And poor fish to be called hag.

Well, it's not
particularly pretty, is it?

Denny was a compelling and
charismatic communicator,

popular with students
and public alike.

In 1859, Charles Darwin
revolutionised biology

with his publication of
On the Origin of Species,

outlining his theory of evolution.

Now this fellow,
I think I recognise.

Yep, well you should do.
This is what you look like inside.

Obviously this is a human skeleton,
and then we have the gorilla,

the chimpanzee, and then
the gibbon at the end there.

Having specimens set out like
this allows us to see how close

our evolutionary relationships
are to other great apes.

This kind of study really became
popular after Darwin and he really

brought about a huge change
in thinking at the time.

Was there any connection
between Darwin and Denny?

Well, there wasn't a direct
connection between Alfred Denny

and Darwin but Alfred Denny's
father, Henry Denny,

who was an entomologist and
he was curator at Leeds Museum,

he actually
corresponded with Darwin,

so we actually have those
letters in our collection.

Did Alfred Denny take up
the subject of evolution?

Yes, and it wasn't just
his teaching.

He gave public lectures which were
really popular on evolution

and adaptation in the animal world

and he drew crowds
of hundreds of people,

so he was really kind of key
in teaching some of these ideas.

A sort of Darwinian evangelist.
- Yeah, exactly.

Still exhausted from
my mountain exertions,

it's time for a well-earned rest.

Continuing on the route of the
North Country Continental,

I am re-joining
the railway at Sheffield,

and travelling 16 miles
north-east to Conisbrough.

As I know from many
a railway station,

the Victorians like their
architecture Gothic.

They like their novels that way too,

tales of knights
errant and chivalry,

and the very symbol of
Romanticism was the ancient ruin.

Bradshaw's tells me that
at Conisbrough,

I'll find a castle belonging
to the Duke of Leeds

built at the time of the conquest,
with a keep 78-feet high.

I believe I've found my Grail.

Conisbrough Castle is one

of the best-preserved medieval
fortifications in England,

dating from the 11703.

This is the sort of castle keep that
I was asked to draw at school

as a child, and even now, to me, it
means a damsel in distress,

or the ultimate triumph
of good over evil.

I suppose that there is a bit of
19th-century Romanticism

that is forever in the British DNA.

At the spectacular Conisbrough,

my interest is as much
literary as historical.

I'm meeting Kevin Booth, senior
curator for English Heritage.

Very good to see you,

and what a splendid view
of the castle from here.

Now Bradshaw's,
which is not always right,

tells me that the castle
is from the Norman conquest.

Right or wrong?
- Right, and wrong, I suppose.

Yes, there is a castle here, a
defence here,

from the conquest period,

but what we see in front of
us is about a century later.

The castle was the seat
of the de Warenne family.

Hamelin Plantagenet, the
illegitimate son of Henry II,

acquired the property by
marrying Isabel de Warenne.

Hamelin transformed Conisbrough into
the imposing fortress seen today.

It's about authority
of the de Warennes.

They're making a statement
to both Conisbrough town

and the wider estate that they
have control, they are, after all,

the great Norman family coming
over with the Conqueror.

And did this magnificent
structure ever see battle?

In the early 14th century,

Thomas of Lancaster turns
up with his men.

The Earl of de Warenne has
kidnapped his wife, so he lay siege.

There were six people in the castle,
including the town miller.

It's almost sort of Python-esque
in its progression.

How did it fall into ruin?

I think Conisbrough is one of those
classic English castles, really.

It ceases to have a great function,
it's no longer a military defence,

it's no longer really a family home,

and literally in
the case of Conisbrough,

it simply slides away from history.

'In 1537, the castle
was surveyed for Henry VIII.

'It was found
abandoned and dilapidated

'with its gate collapsed
into a ditch.'

But it was unexpectedly to enjoy
a new literary lease of life

in the 19th century,
when it became the inspiration

for Coningsbrugh Castle
in the 1820 novel

Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scott.

The fact that it's mentioned in my
Bradshaw's makes me think that the

castle was popular
in Victorian times.

It became exceedingly popular
as the century went on,

and I think a lot of
that is based on Ivanhoe.

And, Ivanhoe, how would
you summarise its themes?

Well, it's an interesting
historical account, certainly.

We have Anglo-Saxons and Normans,
we have Richard the Lionheart,

we have Robin Hood, we have the
oppressed, we have tyranny.

Yeah, it's a fair mix

of all the sort of great
Romantic themes, I think.

In as much as Walter Scott dealt with
the history of the castle, does he

get it right?
- Not especially!

I mean, the idea that
this is a great tower of a

royal Anglo-Saxon Lord,

the irony really is that it's
built by the Norman oppressors

precisely to stamp their
authority on the land.

But there are elements
of what he says which are

actually quite accurate.
- Do you have a sense of why

Victorians are so drawn to castles,

ruins and Romanticism?

I think there is the idea that the
Victorians are looking back to some

kind of preindustrial age, and
Conisbrough itself, by the 18503,

is really developing
as an industrial hub,

so works like Ivanhoe potentially

are creating that sort of
aspiration,

that nostalgia, for medieval
Britain.

Conisbrough station opened in 1849,

allowing curious
Victorians to visit.

As the century progressed,
their numbers swelled.

On Good Friday in 1882,
holiday special trains,

laid on by the Manchester,
Sheffield and Lincoln Railway,

brought up to 10,000 to visit the
castle and its grounds.

You get a wonderful
view from the tower.

What are the highlights
of what we can see?

The heart of Conisbrough
is early eighth century,

but really everything else
is 19th, 20th century, urban.

So, you have the pits,
you have glassworks, brickworks,

you have the monumental
viaduct across the River Don.

Really, Conisbrough, in the late
19th and early 20th century,

is a vibrant, powerful economic hub.

And if you didn't like the grime
and the dust and the smoke,

you could escape to the keep.

Or immerse yourself in Ivanhoe.

From the ruined
splendour of Conisbrough,

I'm re-joining the train,

and travelling six miles
north-east to Doncaster.

The novels of Charles
Dickens indicate that Victorians

became increasingly concerned with
the plight of vulnerable children.

Bradshaw's tells me that among the
principal buildings of Doncaster

are the New Mansion House, and the
Yorkshire Deaf and Dumb School,

founded in 1829.

So, pre-Victorian,
ahead of its time.

In the late 18th and 19th centuries,

Doncaster was
dominated by engineering,

and the Great Northern Railway

moved its engine-building
works to the town in 1853.

The building to the left is iconic.

It's where the Flying
Scotsman was designed.

19th century industrialists were
often generous philanthropists,

and the churches were
also active in promoting

new ideas to help
those less fortunate.

Alan, hello.
- Michael, lovely to meet you.

Alan W Robinson is the head teacher

of what is now known as the
Doncaster School for the Deaf.

Well, Michael, this is the
Reverend Carr Fehton,

he's the founder of
our institution in 1829.

What you will notice here is that

there is a painting of a
building here,

which is known as Eastfield house,

the first building that was used
to house our school for the deaf.

What kind of a man
was William Carr Fenton?

Well, he is a Church of England
minister in South Yorkshire,

and it was while he was out in the
parish, he overheard a labourer,

who said he had

five members of his family
who were profoundly deaf,

and he felt, at that point,

challenged to think
about their education.

From where could you gain
inspiration in those days?

Well, one of the fundamental
things he did was travel

to the school for the deaf in Paris,
and at that institution,

he decided that he would come back
to his parish in Yorkshire,

and create an institution
for the deaf and dumb.

Without the education
facilities on offer today,

deaf people at the time
were largely cut off

from their surrounding world.

Although there were five deaf
schools in Britain by 1828,

none existed in Yorkshire.

To remedy that, Carr Fenton
held a public meeting

at Doncaster's Mansion House,

which raised £70, a decent sum,
for what was then called

the Yorkshire Institution for the
Deaf and Dumb Poor.

This is the minutes of our
institution from 1829,

and you can see here it
was determined

that a school should be formed.

And here we have the minute
of the first 11 boys

that were entered into the school.

By the time Carr Fenton
had spent almost 40 years

as the chairman of the school, the
school had grown to over 100 pupils.

Extraordinary.
Now...

the subject of the
education of deaf people has been,

and I think is, controversial.

What were the movements that were
present during the 19th century?

There was a split.

There was the oralist movement

and there was the
sign-language-teaching movement.

And they often clashed as to
which was the best way forward.

The oralists believed in teaching
lip-reading and speech,

arguing that sign language
would impede students' progress

in integrating
with the hearing world.

The natural language
of a pre-lingually deaf,

profoundly deaf individual was
to use sign language and gesture.

But in fact in the early days,

pupils were often
expected to sit on their hands

and not use their natural language.

Today, sign language is seen as a
mother language of deaf people.

Things have clearly moved hugely

since the days of William Carr
Fenton,

but is there still a
residual affection and respect

for what he did?
- Oh, absolutely.

This is a jewel in the crown of
the British education system

from its inception
to its present day.

Today, there are 32 pupils at the
Doncaster School for the Deaf.

'Simon Tacey is a former student.'

Excuse me. I'm Michael.
Good to see you.

Laura, how do you do?
- Hi. Nice to meet you?

Simon, you were a pupil
at this school and college.

How did the school help you?

[TRANSLATED]
The school helped me a lot.

The teachers all used BSL and could
sigh so that was useful for me to

understand the education.

You're now employed at the college.

What is the work that you do?

So I work in employment support,

so that is finding work for
people who are disabled and deaf.

And your native language
is British Sign Language.

Yes, that's right.
I started learning BSL

when I was around 18 months old

and I've used it all my life,
so I'm used to it now.

I use it everyday.

I wonder if you could help me
with a little sign language?

Sure, no problem.

I'm always having
to rush for a train.

Could you help me to say,
"I have a train to catch."

So, point to yourself for I.

This is "have to".
Oh, that's have to.

Yeah.
- Yeah.

Then you'd say "catch".

And this is "train".

That's correct, yes.
- Thank you.

We may scoff at the Victorian
taste for romantic medievalism,

but men like William Carr Fenton
were in earnest

about educating deaf children,

and Alfred Denny about spreading
knowledge of the natural world.

Their ambition was for a better
society to move onward and up,

which is rather how I felt when
suspended from a craggy rock.

'Next time, I have my reaction times
tested by a mechanical marvel...'

This would drive you mad
if you did this all day.

'get carried away by the
cadences of conflict.'

"Half a league, half a league,
half a league onward,

"into the valley of
death rode the 600."

'and see how today's railway
is regenerating its past.'

We recycled around 46,000 tonnes
of steel last year, which is

actually the equivalent of
six Eiffel Towers.

[END THEME MUSIC]