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 crisscross the country 150 years later,
it helps me to discover the Britain of today.
On this final leg of my journey from England's heartlands to
moorlands, I'll be discovering how the Victorian age marked
a change in our attitude to nature, reflected in many things,
from ambitious engineering projects to romantic poetry.
My route, which began in Birmingham, now arrives in south-west England,
where I'll be visiting ancient farmlands
and battlegrounds, before ending up on the wild
uplands of one of Britain's most glorious national parks.
Today, I'm starting out in romantic Bridgwater in Somerset, then on
to historic Taunton, before arriving at my final destination, Dartmoor.
On this leg of the journey,
I get to grips with a miracle of Victorian engineering...
I've never felt so much power.
ANGRY SHOUTING
..stand trial in Taunton and suffer the full weight of the law...
I plead guilty and throw myself upon the mercy of this court.
..and go looking for hidden treasure on Dartmoor.
- I've found it! - Hurray!
SHE LAUGHS
I'm now approaching the end of my journey, and the town of Bridgwater.
Bradshaw's tells me that at Nether Stowey, Coleridge lived
from 1796 to 1798 after marrying, and here he wrote The Ancient Mariner.
Wordsworth was his neighbour, and composed his lyrical ballads,
the subject of many interminable discussions,
as the friends walked over the hills together.
I'm headed for Somerset's Little Poets Corner.
Lying at the edge of the Somerset Levels,
the ancient inland port of Bridgwater is seven miles from the sea,
and has been an important trading centre since Saxon times.
The railway arrived here in 1841, and the station,
designed by Brunel, is the perfect jumping-off point for my visit.
In nearby Nether Stowey is a small cottage once
lived in by Samuel Taylor Coleridge,
who wrote some of his most famous work here, including Kubla Khan.
I hope to discover more about the poet's life in the village
from Coleridge expert Tina Mitchell.
- Hello, Tina. - Hello, Michael!
Tina, what was it that brought the Samuel Taylor Coleridge family
- to this cottage? - They were looking to escape their debts, and they met up
with a friend, a local man of substance, Tom Poole.
This was the only cottage at the time that he could find for them,
and he described it as "a bit of a hovel".
I mean, nowadays, it looks very nice indeed, a lovely village
and a lovely cottage. You're telling me it was something different then?
When they moved in, you have to imagine a much smaller cottage.
It was thatched, there was an open sewer running past the front door,
so the stench in summer would've been something unimaginable.
Was it a coincidence that the Wordsworths were neighbours
- staying close by? - No, it wasn't.
They'd met previously while walking
and a friendship began which was to last a very, very long time.
So, the Wordsworths actively looked to move here to be near to
Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
Coleridge and the Wordsworths went on almost daily walks
together in the nearby Quantock Hills.
But his long-suffering wife Sarah stayed behind, to try to make
the best of their new home.
Tina, what were conditions like for them?
You have to imagine that the cottage then,
when they moved in, was very dark, it was damp, it was very draughty.
It was overrun with mice.
How did Coleridge's wife Sarah feel about that?
Obviously, her priority was to her child Hartley.
She wanted to get the cottage as cosy as possible as fast
as possible and as warm as she could.
Was this a period of strain for the marriage, do you think?
Originally, no.
They were very much in love when they moved into the cottage.
Unfortunately, when Samuel Taylor Coleridge was in Germany
for a long period, Berkeley, their second child,
became very ill while he was away and died in the February.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge didn't come back until the July,
so obviously, this put a great strain on the marriage
and was the beginning of the end of the marriage.
Nowadays, it's generally accepted that Coleridge was probably
suffering from manic depression,
which over the years was exacerbated by his opium addiction.
But when he moved to Nether Stowey, he was still a young idealist,
seeking the simple life for his family, surrounded by nature.
Tina, the garden looks very beautiful.
Was it like this in Coleridge's day?
When they moved in, it was twice the size of what you see today.
His idea was to live a life of self-sufficiency.
Unfortunately, he was slowly taken away to other areas,
such as writing his poetry and talking long into the night,
and the garden unfortunately suffered
and ended up as more of a wild garden than a vegetable garden.
So if the garden was abandoned,
that, at least, implies that this was a period when he was writing.
It was while he was here that he was most prolific.
It was the birthplace of the Romantic literary movement
and while he was here, in those short three years,
he wrote Kubla Khan, The Rime Of The Ancient Mariner
and he wrote This Lime-Tree Bower My Prison.
'This Lime-Tree Bower My Prison, was inspired not so much by nature,
'but by his sorrow at missing out on it.'
Coleridge was about to set off on yet another walk with his cronies,
when his wife, presumably now heartily fed up,
spilt a pan of boiling milk over his foot.
He retired to the said lime-tree bower in pain, to vent his angst.
Let's have a read of that famous sulk.
"Well, they are gone, and here must I remain,
"This lime-tree bower my prison! I have lost
"Beauties and feelings, such as would have been
"Most sweet to my remembrance even when age
"Had dimm'd mine eyes to blindness! They, meanwhile,
"Friends, whom I never more may meet again,
"On Springy heath, along the hill-top edge,
"Wander in gladness..."
- You've got to feel sorry for him, haven't you? - Stuck here on his own.
Bradshaw's comments that, "Somerset possesses every gradation,
"from the lofty mountain and barren moor, to the rich
"and cultivated vale
"and then descends to the unimprovable marsh and fens."
But that was to underestimate Victorian ingenuity.
The low-lying land could be improved and made suitable for agriculture.
And these newly raised banks of the River Parrett,
are intended to protect these fields from flooding.
'Man has been battling nature for control of the Somerset levels
'since Roman times.
'This 160,000 acres of coastal plain
'drains naturally into two rivers, the Tone and the Parrett.
'But the majority of the land lies below sea level,
'so a combination of tidal surges and heavy rains,
'such as we've seen in recent years, can have catastrophic consequences.
'Until the Victorian age, when floods came, residents
'and farmers could only watch and wait for the water to subside.
'But in 1830, an act of parliament ordered
'the construction of a steam-powered pumping station at Westonzoyland,
'to eject water from flooded land back into the river.'
Hello!
Are you going towards the Victorian pumping station?
- Yes, please jump on. - Thank you.
'I'm hitching a ride on one of the original log-carrying
'locomotives that would have kept the boiler supplied with fuel.'
- Thank you. - Thank you.
'In Victorian times, the station attendant,
'who operated the pump, would live here.'
Hello, Michael, welcome to Westonzoyland Pumping Station.
I'm looking forward to this.
'Nowadays, this remarkable machine is kept in working
'order by enthusiasts, including Alan Davies and John Trenchard.'
- This is a Victorian engine? - It is indeed, Michael.
It was built in 1861, developed by John George Appold.
And he demonstrated it in 1851, at the Great Exhibition.
Was this Victorian engine pretty effective as a pump?
It was very effective.
In fact, at the International Exhibition, of 1862,
one of these was set up with a tank of water.
It could pump 100 tonnes of water a minute.
That is about an inch of water off an acre of land every minute,
- which is quite phenomenal. - Absolutely phenomenal.
By the end of the Victorian era,
there were eight pumping stations on the Somerset Levels.
This is the only one still operational,
although it's not part of the drainage system any more.
I've never felt so much power.
In 2014, after some of the worst January rains on record,
25 square miles of the Somerset Levels were left underwater.
There followed the largest mobile pumping operation ever
undertaken in Europe.
With 120 pumps working around the clock, capable of moving 8.5 million
tonnes of water a day, enough to fill Wembley Stadium seven times over.
Carymoor station was one of those on the front-line
and I'm heading there now to meet Tim Musgrove,
of the Environment Agency, to hear how they coped.
- Tim. - Hello, Michael.
- I've just come from seeing a Victorian steam engine... - Yes.
..which, though working, is not moving water around any more,
but these are.
- Yes, these two do and do most winters. - What is their job?
Their job is to get the water from the moor
and push it out into the river.
These engines themselves look quite elderly.
Yes, they're 1954, they went in and they're just clocking up
with 750,000 hours without any breakdowns.
What is the capacity? How much water can they pump?
They're pumping just over 2,200 litres a second, each.
You had, in Somerset, devastating floods in 2014.
What was that like for you?
It was a busy time, I can't deny.
In here it was all flooded for two months.
Were the engines damaged?
No, no, the engines don't get any water on them,
they are built too high out of the water.
Could I actually see the engine running?
Yes, we're just doing a maintenance run,
so we can start them up, run and pump some water.
Success!
Can we see what it's doing?
Did I really do that?
- So that's, what, about two tonnes of water a second? - Yes.
And this is, which river now?
This is the River Tone and it flows down
and out to the River Parrett and then into the Bristol Channel.
- And then safely into the sea. - Yes.
'I'm returning to Bridgwater Station,
'to catch the Great Western service, heading south.'
I shall spend the last night of this journey in Taunton.
Bradshaw says, "The town, as seen from the station,
"has a most pleasing appearance.
"It's situated in the central part of the luxuriant Vale of Taunton Deane."
And it mentions the Castle Hotel, but, for once,
I've no need for my Bradshaw's.
It's a place I know well.
'My guidebook gives fulsome praise to this ancient borough town,
'but before I explore parts unknown, I'm going to relax
'and enjoy myself in familiar surroundings.'
- Thank you, that looks lovely. - Thank you. - Thank you.
I know this hotel well,
cos I've often spent weekends here listening to classical music.
But, tomorrow, I must look into Taunton's history
and something altogether more discordant.
'The next day, I'm up early and out to soak up the atmosphere of this
'historic town.'
The name Taunton means, "Town on the River Tone"
and there's been a settlement here since the Bronze Age.
It grew to be prosperous in the Middle Ages,
thanks to the wool trade.
But my focus is on the end of the 17th century.
The English Civil War was over, but, once again,
the monarchy was under threat.
Bradshaw's tells me that, here in Taunton,
"The ill-fated Duke of Monmouth proclaimed himself King, in 1685."
He'd risen in rebellion, against the new monarch, James II, who,
unlike his predecessor, was a Catholic.
There followed a mighty clash of arms
and the last battle to be fought on English soil.
The Duke of Monmouth was an illegitimate
son of King Charles II, living in self-imposed exile in Holland.
In February 1685, he landed in Dorset with 82 men and rode to Taunton,
where the Protestant-leaning citizens welcomed him.
Something they would come to regret.
I'm heading to St Mary's Church in Chedzoy,
ten miles north of Taunton, to hear about the decisive
Battle of Sedgemoor, from the head of Somerset Museum, Steve Minute.
Hello, Steve. Beautiful church.
It is, one of the many fantastic ones in Somerset.
'Chedzoy Church has 13th century origins and a tower 70ft high,
'which gives a commanding view of the surrounding countryside.'
Why have we come to the roof of the tower of beautiful Chedzy Church?
Well, there was one small incident
that occurred immediately before the
Battle of Sedgemoor, which had a huge impact
on the events at that time.
On the morning of 5th July 1685, a local man, by the name
of William Spark, he was a farmer, came up here with his spyglass.
He looked out from where we are now, across to Westonzoyland,
where the Royal army was camped
and saw that they weren't particularly well-protected.
And, as a consequence of that, Monmouth changed his plans.
And on the night of 5th July, he set out,
in view of a surprise attack on the Royal army.
What was the result of the attack?
It was an utter disaster, sadly, for the Duke of Monmouth
and his followers.
The night was very misty, they couldn't find
crossings of some of the ditches and then a pistol was fired.
Almost certainly one of the Royal Cavalry
had spotted something happening.
The rebels panicked and hundreds of people were killed.
There followed an infamous period in British history.
The fleeing rebels,
and anyone thought to have sympathised with them,
were rounded up and put on trial at what became known as
the Bloody Assizes.
"After the defeat at Sedgemoor, King James' chief justice,
"Jeffreys, the worthy tool of such a monster,
"held his Bloody Assizes, at Taunton." Just here.
"Hundreds of poor wretches were condemned to death,
"after being persuaded to throw themselves on the King's mercy.
"The executioner hanged one man three times."
I just can't imagine what it would've been like to be one of the accused.
Bring on John Hucker.
- Traitor! - Traitor! - Hang him! - Traitor!
Silence!
John Hucker, you stand accused of high treason,
by lately being in armed rebellion against your lawful King.
I am obliged by law to give you the right to plead guilty or not guilty.
However, I will extend leniency, where possible,
to those who plead guilty.
I have a muster roll here, from the Duke of Monmouth's army,
with your name on it, as a Captain of Horse.
I also have diverse, loyal witnesses who will swear they saw you with
the Duke and indeed followed him all the way to the battle at Sedgemoor.
That being so, how do you plead?
In view of your words, my Lord, I plead guilty
and throw myself upon the mercy of this court.
"Guilty", eh?
Regrettably, the depth of your crime is such that mercy has flown.
So, John Hucker, I find you guilty of high treason
against your lawful King.
Do you have anything to say before I pass sentence?
- He's a traitor! - Traitor! - Liar! - String him up! - Traitor!
Silence!
I stand before my God, as a man of conscience.
I could not remain idle and see England led back to popery.
And, for that, I shall die.
Indeed you will.
John Hucker, one time captain of rebel horse, your lands,
properties and monies will be forfeit to the Crown.
I sentence you to a traitor's death, you will be hanged by the neck,
cut down whilst still alive and then drawn and quartered.
May God have mercy on your soul.
Captain, take him away.
In all, 144 men and women were condemned to death at the Assizes.
I'll have a black tea, please.
'Luckily, for us actors, it's a refreshing cup of tea,
'not the gallows that beckons.'
I must say, you were a very fearsome crowd, you really were. You!
You, screaming at me.
Thank you all very much indeed.
I've got a train to catch,
so...I can't hang around.
'Divesting myself of 17th century garb, I return to Taunton Station
'for the final leg of this 200 mile railway adventure.'
The last station on my journey will be Exeter St David's.
Bradshaw says that, "Dartmoor and the waste called Dartmoor Forest occupy
"the greater portion of the western district of Devonshire, which
"extends from the Vale of Exeter to the banks of the River Tamar."
What a lovely, vast area, in which to play a massive game of hide and seek.
Dartmoor and Dartmoor Forest cover about 365 square
miles of rugged upland and wooded valleys.
Interspersed with craggy, granite outcrops, known as tors.
It was officially designated a national park in 1951,
but the Dartmoor Preservation Society was established back in 1883.
And it was popular with Victorian walkers and nature lovers.
News has reached my ears of a Dartmoor tradition,
called letterboxing, which has enthusiasts
descending from all over the country to scour the landscape.
To find out how it all started and what they're looking for,
I'm heading up onto the moor to meet keen letterboxer, Pat Reed.
- Hello, Pat. - Hello, Michael, welcome to Shilstone Tor.
Thank you very much. Well, it's a remote spot,
but I've been sent here to find out about letterboxing.
What is it, when did it begin?
It began in 1854, it was started by a man called James Perrot,
who put the first letterbox in a place called Cranmere Pool,
in a rather remote part of Dartmoor.
He left it there, he had his visiting card,
he left that behind in it as well.
And then people used to go
and put their own visiting cards in, to show that they'd actually
transversed that really difficult part of the moor.
It was a challenge,
but even the ladies, in their long dresses, managed it.
And that must've been quite something, I think.
How do you get your clues?
Well, in October and March, on the days when the clock goes forward and
the clock goes back, we have what is called, a "letterboxer's meet".
At that meet you can buy a catalogue.
Which is what I'm holding in my hand now
and this tells you where all the boxes are.
"Black Spots, no.66, Shilstone Tor.
"White chimney 086 degrees, a backward L-shaped,
"small holly in boulder very close."
This is written in gobbledegook.
Well, I will help you. Tell me what the bearing is on the tor.
172 degrees.
So there is the compass,
so you need to move this dial around until 172 is there.
Keep it in your hand.
You have to go where the arrow is telling you to go.
Pat, you've given me a little clue, I think
- I'm meant to go in that direction. - I think you'd better!
'Having been nudged gently in the right direction,
'I now must keep my eyes open for landmarks.'
When we set out, I couldn't see any white chimney,
but, I must say, that white chimney, actually, is very obvious.
It is very obvious.
Pat, I can see the tree, so I'm putting that now to 335.
- Do you know, I'm getting quite... - You're getting very good at it.
Well, I don't know about that, but I'm getting in to it.
- Getting the hang of it. - And enjoying it.
Could you remind me, what are we looking for?
Yes, we're looking for an L-shaped rock, with a small holly growing in it.
- Right. - So we have to climb, I think. A little bit.
Let's climb, here we go.
'20 minutes later, after a lot of bracken bashing, we strike lucky.'
- I've found it! - Hooray!
A backward, L-shaped rock.
But finding the rock was not the point, was it, Pat?
It was to find the box.
Exactly, but the clue tells you that it's under the rock,
so you've got to look and see.
- There we have it. - Ah-ha!
(The moment I've been waiting for.)
Is it money?
No.
- MICHAEL LAUGHS - No such luck.
- Oh. - That's the visitors' book.
And a stamp...
..of a dog, by the look of it. What happens next?
Every letterboxer carries an ink pad and a book and a stamp.
Here is your special Great British Railway letterboxing stamp.
Ah, thank you.
'Until the 1970s,
'there were no more than a dozen letterboxes around Dartmoor.
'But in the last 40 years, it's become so popular that there are said
'to be over 5,000 and definitely room for one more.'
Pat, do you think I might create my own letterbox?
I think that would be a wonderful idea and I know just the spot
where you could do just that thing.
Pat, what a wizard spot. That is wonderful.
Absolutely perfect, it'll take your box.
Put my stamp inside, seal the box.
- Into the hole. - Yes.
How will people find the Great British Railway Journey's box?
The clue for this box will appear in the next
edition of the Catalogue of Dartmoor Letterboxers.
- They'll have to buy the book. - They will indeed.
The Victorians were remarkably inventive in every sphere.
From industry, to the arts, to how they spent their leisure time.
It was an age of change and progress, powered by the railways.
My rail journey that began in urban Birmingham has
ended on desolate Dartmoor, passing Jerusalem on the way.
It started with a whistle and, I feared, would end with a hanging.
Once again, my Bradshaw's has brought our island history dramatically
to life.
With all its triumphs, tragedies and treacheries.
Every time I step on a train, a new treasure hunt begins.
Next time...
Urgh!
That is a Princess Alexandra style false fringe.
Real human hair from the 1880s.
- Sounding better. - That's pretty impressive for a first attempt.
Got it in one!
1,500 townspeople threatened that,
if Mortimer was brought out to them, they would hang him.
I imagine you Sackvilles have been fairly cautious
about public opinion ever since.
Extremely!