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.
In pursuit of my railway journeys,
I've once more crossed the Irish Sea.
When my Bradshaw's Descriptive Railway Handbook
of Great Britain and Ireland was published in the 1860s,
Britain and Ireland were a single state
under the reign of Queen Victoria.
My journey will take me from the rugged beauty of County Kerry,
across Ireland's rural Midlands,
and deposit me on the west coast at Galway.
On today's journey, I'll be sampling this region's Victorian delicacies.
I will be able to taste butter that has been absorbed through
the shell of this egg. You certainly will indeed, Michael.
Mmm! I certainly do!
Exploring a stunning landscape shot to fame by rails and royals.
If it was good enough for the royal family,
it was good enough for everyone. That's true.
And risking life and limb for the gift of the gab.
You have got to be kidding. Just a little now. Here goes then.
I look forward to being eloquent.
Using my Bradshaw's Guide, I'm on tracks which opened up
the rich resources of the southern part of the island of Ireland
to tourists and trade.
I'll then travel north to discover the isle's Victorian heart
before turning west to finish in picturesque Galway.
Today's stretch begins in Killarney's National Park,
then takes me east through Mallow, and on to Cork and the coast.
My first stop is one of this verdant island's renowned beauty spots.
With delightful Victorian pomposity, my Bradshaw's says,
"To the majority of men who rush from smoky London
"and the cares of business,
"to feast their eyes upon the beauty and to inhale the fresh air
"of the fields, lakes and mountains, we recommend a trip to Ireland,
"and the lovely lakes of Killarney."
Really, my Bradshaw's
rarely bestowed such praise as on this place.
The countryside around Killarney is famous
for its scenic lakes and mountains.
And my guide book is lyrical about its silvern beauty
and wild grandeur.
Bradshaw's is definitive about where the railway tourist should begin.
"Whether his day is long or short,
"the first excursion he should make is to the far-famed Gap of Dunloe."
I'm heading straight there to meet guide Mike O'Connor. Hello, Mike.
Hello, Michael. You're welcome to the Gap of Dunloe. What is the Gap?
The Gap of Dunloe is a glacial breach.
The ice moving in a northeasterly direction gouged out this
wonderful valley for all of us to enjoy today.
It is a fantastic sight.
Bradshaw's has five pages on Killarney.
He says the usual mode of proceeding is to hire a car or pony
and ride halfway through the pass.
"By this journey you will be able to see all the most celebrated
"and remarkable portions of the scenery,
"and to learn from the civil, well-informed and garrulous guides."
I'm hoping that might be you, Mike. Thank you. I hope it will.
'Amazingly, I can still tour the gap in a traditional horse and trap.'
Hello! 'Just as Victorians would have.'
All right to jump aboard? Get on board. Thank you.
Until the mid-19th century, this landscape was a well-kept secret,
enjoyed by the locals and landed elite.
But that was soon to change.
1853, the coming of the railway, it opened up Killarney.
Some say it was like a continental airport opening, brought people in.
But I would say it was like the information superhighway opening.
The mail could get out,
the telegraph lines were run along the railway tracks,
and communications with the outside world,
that all helped in no small way.
The rails brought visitors to explore this remote region,
and it was a certain VIP who really brought fame to Killarney.
It is very clear that Killarney today attracts a lot of tourists.
That actually has a lot to do with Queen Victoria herself, doesn't it?
Yes, Queen Vic came in August 1861 and spent three nights in Killarney,
and, of course, all the newspapers of the day sent over their best
illustrators and their writers,
and some of the sketches that went back were definitely a big influence
in the people travelling to where royalty travelled.
If it was good enough for the royal family,
it was good enough for everyone. That's true.
Queen Victoria's visit helped to put Killarney on the map.
But I don't suppose that she risked her dignity as I'm about to.
It says here, the guides being generally provided
with a bugle, produce notes which are echoed back again by the
Carrantual on one side and the purple mountains on the other.
And I can't help noticing that you've brought a bugle.
Shall we give it a go? Yes, we will.
'Unfortunately, today's guides aren't practiced buglers,
'so testing the echo falls to me.'
SPLUTTERING
SPLUTTERING WITH FAINT BUGLE SOUND
SPLUTTERING
BUGLE ECHOES
That was not so bad.
Even my bugling can't spoil Killarney's National Park.
It's 100 square kilometres of mountains,
woodland and the famous lakes which my guide book ranks amongst
the finest in the British Isles.
It says, "Lochs Lomond, Katrine and Windermere, beautiful as they are,
"do not possess the various attractions
"of these small but most lovely lakes."
Hello. Morning, Michael. Morning, Dermot. Thank you very much indeed.
Back in 1861, a highlight of Queen Victoria's visit
was a stately cruise on these peaceful waters.
Quite a lot of spectators took to the water too.
There are reports that it was up to 800 boats, but I think that is a lot
of boats, actually, given the size of our lakes, but there were
quite a lot of people who actually came out and just rode around.
The state barge was the biggest boat on this lake itself,
and it was very elaborate.
So, Killarney witnessed, in 1861, something of a royal regatta.
Absolutely. One could say that definitely.
While touring the lakes, Bradshaw's instructs me
to look out for the arbutus tree, saying,
"Nowhere is it found in such rich luxuriance as at Killarney."
This rare shrub usually grows only in Spain or Portugal,
but flourishes here thanks to the Gulf Stream.
In the 19th century, Killarney craftsmen discovered its
fine-grained wood was perfect for creating intricate inlaid furniture.
I've come to nearby Muckross House to view its exquisite
collection with guide, Anne Tangney.
Anne. Hello. Hello. Welcome. Thank you.
I've been reading about, and indeed seeing, arbutus trees,
and this table is an arbutus?
These were made from arbutus and yew wood.
It was a thriving industry in Killarney in the 1850s.
And there were about six families involved in it.
And they employed 40 or 50 people.
And the lovely features in this are the scenes of Killarney.
See here, Muckross Abbey? Yes.
The Old Weir Bridge,
which I believe you passed by today, when you were on your travels. I did.
And again, another featured image, always put on their pieces,
is the actual arbutus tree itself.
So if you can see, look at the fruit of it here. How lovely. Lovely.
These days, Muckross is open to the public,
but in the 19th century it was the home of the local MP.
In 1861, the royal party came to stay here,
and a special piece of furniture was sculpted for the Queen's suite.
So, did Queen Victoria actually stay in these rooms?
Yes, these three rooms were given over for her complete stay.
This was her boudoir, her private sitting room.
Is this piece the gift she was given?
Yes, this is the piece that three craftsmen worked on for many,
many months. How fabulous. What a perfect gift for a queen.
A beautiful piece,
and we're delighted to still have it here in the house.
I'm now leaving this beautiful landscape to continue my journey.
I shall long remember Killarney,
which even on a wet day is mournfully magnificent.
I'm travelling east, along the line which opened up this region to
commerce and visitors in the 1850s.
My guidebook has brought me into County Cork,
and I'll soon be arriving at the town of Mallow,
which is known as the crossroads of Munster,
because this railway line from west to east
is intersected by another travelling north to south.
Munster is one of Ireland's four historic provinces.
With the arrival of the rails came day-trippers and holidaymakers,
hungry for heritage.
I'm leaving the train at Mallow to explore an imposing
fortification, irresistible to readers of my Bradshaw's Guide.
The magnificent, 15th century Blarney Castle.
Its picturesque ruins chimed with the ideals of romanticism,
which was popular at the turn of the 19th century.
And in 1887, a special railway line
was built to bring visitors to its gates.
They made a beeline for the tower, to seek the famous Blarney Stone,
of which my guide book writes,
"To kiss it, the traveller must be lowered 20 feet.
"When having kissed it, nobody can refuse you anything."
Can it really be that you have to be lowered 20 feet to kiss the stone?
Time will tell.
Victorian romantics were entranced by the stories which abound
regarding this famous stone.
Some believe it was the pillow of a Gaelic saint,
others that it's a sacred rock brought to Ireland
from Jerusalem during the Crusades.
Whatever the truth, kissing it is supposed to make you persuasive.
Dennis Cronin helps tourists to get their lips in position.
Hello. Would you be Dennis? I would indeed, Michael.
Well, I've come about this stone. Yes. What will it do for me?
It will give you the gift of the gab. I'm very short of that.
The origins of the ritual are lost,
but by the 19th century, it was an established tradition.
Thankfully, my guide book's description
of a 20-foot drop is exaggerated.
But even so, kissing the stone requires more dexterity
than your average snog.
What's the method here then, Dennis? We'll show you very easily.
Be seated with your back to the wall, my good friend.
Back to the wall, eh? Well, I'm used to that all right. And come to me.
Raise your hands, left and right, please, and hold the bars.
Drift this way a little. Head back. You have GOT to be kidding.
Just a little now. More. OK, here goes then.
I look forward to being eloquent.
Very good. Back up to me. Oh, that's the difficult bit.
Oh, Dennis, I suddenly feel as though I could speak very
eloquently in many tongues.
And you've enjoyed. Oh, what a wonderful way to end the day.
Thanks. Bye, friend.
Since the mid-19th century, the Blarney estate has been owned
by the Colthurst family
who built the impressive Blarney House in the grounds.
Charles. Michael. How good of you to have me to stay.
You're very, very welcome. What a lovely, lovely house.
Constructed in the Scottish baronial style in the 1870s,
the house has recently been restored to full Victorian grandeur.
Although it's open to the public, it's a rare privilege to sleep here.
Here we are, we're coming into the North Room,
which will be your bedroom for the night.
Turret with a bath, and then out the north window
we have a very good view of the castle to the north
and that will be floodlit later on tonight.
A turret with a bath and a room with a view of a castle.
I shall sleep very well, Charles. Thank you so much.
You're most welcome, and I hope you do.
After a restful night in the shadow of Blarney Castle,
I'm retracing my steps to Mallow station.
Which platform for Cork? This side, sir. Just here beside us.
Thank you. Bye. Bye.
My next train will carry me
south towards the capital of this beautiful region.
I'm following the Great Southern and Western Railway,
begun in the 1840s to link the fertile south to Dublin.
The train from Mallow rolls through beautiful green countryside,
so typical of Ireland,
but my Bradshaw's promises me a contrast when we arrive
in Cork - "A city port and capital of County Cork,
"and Munster province on the River Lee.
"The rail reaches the town by a tunnel half a mile long."
I believe the tunnel is still there, and from what I remember,
the city bears the marks of its splendid maritime heritage.
The building of the tunnel was led by William Dargan,
father of the Irish railways, and Sir John MacNeill.
It took seven years to construct at the cost of several lives.
It was finally completed in 1855, ready to carry passengers
and freight from the city of Cork.
The end of the half-mile tunnel tells us
that we have arrived at Cork, at the station known as Kent.
The current station opened in 1893 but was renamed in 1966
to commemorate nationalist rebel Thomas Kent,
executed by the British after the 1916 rising.
At that time, the city was
a stronghold of anti-British sentiment,
but in the 1800s it was a loyal city that had strong links with
the Empire, forged through trade.
Cork today bustles with tourists, but my Bradshaw's Guide notes,
"There's a large export trade to
"the value of £3 million in grain, cattle, whiskey, provisions
"and especially country butter."
And that flow of comestibles laid the ground for the development
of retail markets to supply the local people with delicious products
from this fertile land.
The best place to sample the finest Cork produce is the English Market
in the heart of the city.
Local historian Dermot O'Driscoll knows its rich history.
Dermot! Hi. How lovely to see you. Good to meet you, Michael.
What a beautiful market. Amazing, isn't it? We're really proud of it.
Well, you should be. How old is it?
This market was opened in 1788, so it's 220, 225 years old now.
And the architecture I'm looking at, at the moment,
that maybe is not quite as old as that. Not as old.
This section of the market was rebuilt in 1862.
Which is about the time Queen Victoria was visiting Ireland,
and the time of my Bradshaw's Guide.
Around the time the market was founded, the rulers of the
expanding empire were utilising Cork's local bounty to the full.
The hinterland of Cork, very rich, great for grain growing,
excellent for beef growing,
which led to a huge trade in beef for provisioning ships,
your former colonies in the east coast of America and the Caribbean.
Cork butter had an international reputation from the middle
of the 18th century, and that was exported around the world.
Initially, Cork produce was exported by boat.
But the advent of rail transport gave the city an extra edge.
Many of those things in the middle of the 19th century,
they could be picked up from their point of origin by train,
and brought here to Cork and then sent on by sea.
From about the 1850s onwards, there were six different rail lines
radiating out of the city.
The main one up to Dublin,
and then others to west and east Cork.
As the decades went on through the 1850s, '60s and so on,
they made connections,
especially with the seaports on the west Cork coast.
The English Market is so called because its founders,
the City Corporation,
were Protestant Conservatives loyal to the Crown.
The name fell out of favour in the 20th century,
when the island of Ireland was riven by troubles.
But in recent decades, tensions have eased,
and the name has gained currency again.
In 2011, the market even welcomed the Queen on an official visit.
You've lived through troubled periods, as I have.
Were you not astonished by the idea that the British Queen
would be able to visit the Republic of Ireland?
Did you see that one coming?
Attitudes have changed on all sides. People understand the past better.
We are all more open now and maybe more forgiving,
and it's better to look forward than to look back all the time.
The modern market offers some local specialities,
born out of necessity in the days before refrigeration.
I'm keen to try so-called battleboard,
dried salt fish that got its name from its plank-like appearance.
Now, Michael, here's some of the battleboard,
and an old battleboard here, Pat O'Connell, who's the fishmonger.
THEY LAUGH
Pat, very good to see you.
Hello, Michael. Very pleased to meet you.
And this is the stock fish of the battleboard.
It looks incredibly salty. Incredibly salty.
It is incredibly salty, but it tastes really, really good.
The secret is that you soak it overnight.
Because if you take it like this,
you're going to end up an alcoholic in a very short time!
May I try some, please?, Come over here and we'll have a try.
I'll give you a little taste.
Well, I must say, it looks a great deal better now
than it does over there.
It is a little bit. Spot the difference!
You're going to do Mother, are you?
I'll do Mother, yeah.
Now this is the old traditional way, where you soak it overnight.
You boil it up, change the water the next morning,
and then you boil it up with some onion and some good Irish potatoes.
Very important.
That's good. It is powerfully salty still, isn't it? But it is lovely.
That is the nature of it.
Well, thank you very much, and your very good health, sir.
Slainte!
That's what I meant to say!
Salting fish is just one way in which locals preserved
food in Victorian times.
Thrifty farmers' wives had a clever method for keeping eggs fresh.
Michael, this is Gerry Moynihan,
and we're here to sample some buttered eggs.
Very welcome to our market, Michael. Oh, thank you.
Now, buttered eggs, that does sound intriguing. Yes.
May I try one, please?
Sure, we'll give you this nice fresh one here, nice and freshly boiled.
Thank you very much. So, what is a buttered egg?
Has it got butter inside it?
Well, no, there is butter inside it, but the shell is covered
with butter and it's done when the egg is very, very fresh.
The old theory was that the egg should be actually taken
before the hen missed the egg, as such.
It's coated with butter, it seals the shell of the egg,
and it preserves the egg at that level of freshness.
So I will be able to taste butter,
that has been absorbed through the shell of this egg.
You certainly will indeed, Michael.
Mmm! I certainly do. Very nice.
Now this one may catch on.
In the 19th century, with the prime cuts of
beef and pork being reserved for export and affluent customers,
the less well-off locals had to get creative with what was left.
This is Kathleen here, at O'Reillys.
Hello, Kathleen. Very nice to see you.
Makers and sellers of drisheen and tripe.
Kathleen, what is drisheen? It's a pure blood pudding.
It's just the blood from the cow or the sheep.
And what do you serve it with?
We serve it with the tripe, and you can have some potato with it,
or some bread, but we just serve it with the tripe here.
Well, let me have a go then.
So, the white bits are the tripe?
Cooked in milk with onions, isn't it? That's right.
Now I'll go for this. The drisheen. That's the real taste of Cork now.
Mmmm!
It's quite mild, actually, isn't it? It's quite mild.
Now you're longing for some, aren't you, Dermot? Yeah, can't wait!
THEY LAUGH
Thank you so much for that.
'After a true taste of Victorian Ireland,
'I'm full of energy for the last leg of my journey.'
I'm taking a short hop down to the coast,
to the harbour that brought Cork its wealth.
This beautiful waterside railway is leading me towards Cobh,
and my Bradshaw's says, "The noble harbour surrounded
"by hills on all sides is five miles long,
"having room and water enough for hundreds of vessels of any size."
And I have a feeling that a port of such dimensions must have played
a substantial part in Irish history.
My guide book refers to Cobh as Queenstown,
so named in honour of a royal visit in 1849.
The harbour that Victoria and Albert saw was thronged with
vessels, from battleships to pleasure craft.
"Cobh...", my Bradshaw's tells me, "..is situated on a steep terrace
"on Great Island, with its yacht club and pretty bathing rooms."
Yacht club? That sounds both historic and exclusive.
I shall investigate.
This small seaside town has played a big role in maritime history.
I'm meeting Eddie English, who hails from a long line of Cobh sailors.
Eddie, hello.
Cead mile failte! Thank you so much, it's very nice to be welcomed here.
I'm interested in your yacht club, because my Bradshaw's mentions it.
Very historic, is it?
This is the oldest yacht club in the world, the Royal Cork Yacht Club.
Founded in the early 18th century,
the club claims to be the oldest still going today,
and has its current headquarters in nearby Crosshaven.
But in Victorian times it was based here in Cobh,
and in 1854 its members moved into this grand Italianate clubhouse.
That is a very fine building for a yacht club,
so I'm beginning to think that yachting is not
just about being on a boat, there's also a social side of things.
Well, the social life was very important,
but, more so than other clubs, the Royal Cork Yacht Club was
always a sailing club and they went sailing.
So you had big, huge yachts racing here,
they'd go off out the harbour, way off, a 50-mile course, come back,
finish here, celebrations here, and in the big houses around the town.
I get the impression that Cobh absolutely bristles with history.
May we take a tour and find out more?
We certainly can. Step this way.
Eddie's letting me take the helm as we explore
this lovely stretch of water.
I'll just put it back in the middle. That's it.
We're pushing that way.
As well as being long,
the harbour is also deep enough for even the biggest vessels,
including some which pushed the boundaries of Victorian technology.
My Bradshaw's tells me that the Sirius, under Captain Roberts,
was the second steamer to cross the Atlantic,
leaving Cobh on the 1st June, 1838,
and taking 17 days to reach New York.
Yeah, well, she crossed the Atlantic, and as you mentioned
Captain Roberts, I met his great, great, great grandson today,
who's a friend of mine, and they're very proud of their heritage.
And, in fact, she crossed the Atlantic twice.
She was chartered from the City of Cork Steam Packet Company,
and was the first passenger vessel to cross the Atlantic under steam.
Very soon, steamships like the Sirius were to carry
unprecedented numbers of passengers, seeking to escape to a new life.
Now, following the great Irish Hunger of 1848, millions emigrated,
and Cobh was one of the main places they left from, wasn't it?
It certainly was.
Cobh was very well connected, especially when the railways came.
It was connected with the railways in 1862,
and from then on people just poured into Cobh from all
corners of Ireland, and indeed from England, because they could
get the mail packet across, and then get the train down to Cobh.
Huge numbers went from Cobh to several different
destinations on the east coast of the States and also Canada.
It's a very poignant thought, isn't it,
to think of those people so desperate,
and yet also so full of hope?
Right up until the 1950s,
Cobh was this island's most important emigration port,
and it also played a role
in two of maritime history's most terrible disasters.
What's the connection with the Titanic?
Well, Cobh, was a major port of call for the transatlantic liners,
and then the Titanic, a major occasion, came here, her last
port of call before the unfortunate disaster with the iceberg.
A couple of years later we had the terrible tragedy
of the sinking of the Lusitania.
It was due here into Cobh,
a regular caller, and a much-loved ship,
and huge connections with Cobh.
Sunk by a German U-boat. That's correct.
Yes, just 20 miles from here.
The advent of air travel spelled the end of the great ocean liners,
but Cobh hasn't entirely lost its link with adventure on the sea.
The railway's still there,
and I think it's a much happier operation now,
because it's the people, the holiday makers on cruise liners, they
get off the ships and they get on the railway and they go up to Cork.
So, the connection is still there.
It's good to know that Victorian tracks provide continuity
with this region's past.
But, thankfully, some things have changed for the better.
Queen Victoria was awed by the beauty of the lakes
and mountains of southern Ireland.
But just a short time after her last visit here,
this country fought for and won its independence.
When I was in politics,
the idea that Queen Elizabeth II might make an official visit
to the Republic of Ireland would have seemed like fantasy.
But the beauty of time passing
is that it makes the impossible possible.
On my next journey, I'll learn the ancient art of butter making.
It's exquisite, Eamonn. It's a taste of the Irish rain.
Thank you very, very, very much.
I'll tackle the basics of Ireland's oldest game.
So what's the first thing I should learn?
It's to bounce it on my hurley? Yeah.
Oops!
And I'll ride the Duke of Devonshire's Victorian Irish Railway.
In case the Duke of Devonshire is watching,
I want to thank your ancestor, sir, for giving us this lovely railway.
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