For Victorian Britains, 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 industries, society
and leisure time.
As I crisscross the country 150 years later, it helps me
to discover the Britain of today.
All week, I've been using Bradshaw's to rediscover
London as it was in the Age of Steam.
I'm now concluding my rail journeys around the world's first
metropolis. Today, I want to look at great institutions born in
or which flourished during the reign of Queen Victoria -
a variety of cultural, charitable and popular organisations
that to this day define the capital more than rhyming slang
or the sound of bow bells.
Alongside my usual guidebook, I've been delving into other
historic Bradshaw's publications,
including a later edition from 1875,
to shine a light on Victorian London.
Today, I'm tracing a route from affluent Kensington
to Battersea and Vauxhall,
finishing up at one of Britain's busiest stations, London Bridge.
'On this stretch, I'll be getting a fresh perspective
'on a Victorian landmark...
Oh, that is a long way d... Oh, I mustn't look down.
I mustn't look down.
'..learning how London's most famous flower market
'had a darker side in Bradshaw's day...'
Flower sellers would use it almost as a cover for begging
or at worst prostitution.
Oh, so to be a flower girl had a sort of double meaning? Absolutely.
'..and discovering how the capital's 19th-century railways
'are being equipped for the 21st.'
What we see here is the new platforms
that we're just preparing at the minute.
And the scale of this enterprise, the scale of this vision,
it is positively Victorian.
I'm on the Circle line, heading for High Street Kensington.
This stretch opened in 1868
and was soon being used by well-to-do commuters,
who might well have passed the journey flicking through the pages
of an irreverent publication.
"Ascending Fleet Street,
"we pass on the left the office of the inimitable Punch
"and a few doors beyond, that of Bradshaw's Guide."
I'm not at Fleet Street, but near the home of a Punch cartoonist,
who, as reliably as my handbook, steers us through the Victorian age,
albeit sardonically.
Today's popular satirical television and radio shows can trace roots back
to the lampoonery of the magazine Punch.
I'm unearthing its Victorian origins in Kensington,
where, encouraged by the new railway,
19th-century property developers built smart homes by the hundred
for the burgeoning middle classes.
In 1875, artist and Punch cartoonist Edward Linley Sambourne
moved in to number 18, Stafford Terrace.
His home has been beautifully preserved as a museum,
and I'm taking a tour with cultural historian Clare Horrocks.
Clare, politicians had been satirized and caricatured
long before the invention of Punch. What is special about Punch?
I think what's special about Punch is that it's reaching out to a much
more middle class audience. It's much more of a family magazine,
particularly as you move through into the 1850s and 1860s.
But it does pack a punch, doesn't it? I mean, it's something
that the ruling class have to be wary of?
Very much so.
Before the advent of Punch in 1841,
satire often took the form of crude pamphlets, bawdy in tone
and frequently libellous.
Employing top artists and generally skirting around libel,
Punch became the respectable face of the genre.
Alongside biting political commentary,
Sambourne and his colleagues gently lampooned the preoccupations
of the weekly's refined readership.
What we can se here is the use of the spider to satirise the chignon
and female fashion.
What's quite interesting is you can see the flies as earrings. Ha-ha.
An early version of Spider-Woman.
A keen observer of the changing face of Victorian Britain,
Sambourne took advantage of modern technology
including photography, which by the late 19th century
had reached the mass-market.
Sambourne's studio.
Indeed, this is where he worked from 1899, and here's some examples
of how he would use the photography to help him get the shape
of the characters that he was sketching
and an example of one of his cameras. Ah, an unusual camera.
It's got lenses on two sides. This was the secret side panel,
which gave him a secret and more genuine view, it could be argued,
on subjects, such as the schoolgirls walking along that we have here.
Punch took a keen interest in the railways, which were then
transforming Britain and even my guidebook found itself subjected to
the magazine's playful wit.
As we can see here, from September, 1877, we have a piece about
The Continental Bradshaw, which has an initial letter
by Sambourne himself.
"Oh, shall we take a circular ticket carrying us everywhere,
"over everything in all sorts of conveyances?
"Shall we not consequently be haunted with the regret
"that wherever we may be going, we would far sooner go somewhere else?
"Will the Continental Bradshaw be of the least use to us?"
What a heretical question! Ha-ha.
I have never regretted following my trusty Bradshaw's,
and it's now leading me back onto the Circle line.
I'm heading south to learn how royal passions shaped this part
of London in the mid-19th century.
The relationship between Queen Victoria
and her husband Prince Albert could be stormy.
He doubted that the duties of a monarch could be performed
by a weak and feeble woman, and her efforts to perform them
were hampered by nine pregnancies and bouts of post-natal depression.
But after his death, she devoted her life to worshipping him,
and London enjoys the monuments built to Prince Albert.
An 1870s version of Bradshaw's talks about the Royal Albert Hall
"being 150 feet high to the lantern
"and 800 to 900 feet round, it is an oval
"ranking next to the Coliseum at Rome for size."
Ah, yes, but this wasn't built by a Caesar but by a queen.
TUBE PA SYSTEM: The next station is South Kensington.
With the Natural History, Science
and Victoria & Albert Museums nearby,
as well as Imperial College and other educational institutions,
the Royal Albert Hall is at the heart of a cultural
and scientific quarter.
The area owes its origins to The Great Exhibition,
the international industrial showcase,
which had been the brainchild of Prince Albert.
I'm hearing the story from the Hall's archive manager Liz Harper.
Liz, what a stunning auditorium.
So in 1851, there's The Great Exhibition, in the Crystal Palace
in the park. Yes.
Now, what role does Prince Albert play after that in this area?
So, with the profits from The Great Exhibition, his dream was
to buy up land in this area to promote the arts and sciences
as The Exhibition had done.
And so, with the money, they bought up 86 acres
and bought what's nicknamed Albertopolis.
And he was the driving force behind that,
including the Royal Albert Hall? Exactly. Building a central hall
for further exhibitions and for music events was part of that ambition.
And what we see here today,
this 5,000 seat auditorium, was that his original concept?
Erm, originally, the plan was to build a much grander theatre
for almost 30,000 people, but the plans were reduced
because they felt that it could never be filled.
Alas, Albert didn't live to see his vision made reality.
Aged just 42, he died of typhoid in 1861.
But Victoria ensured that his name lived on in this building.
This illustration shows Queen Victoria in 1867,
laying the Hall's foundation stone.
But it was at this ceremony in front of 7,000 people that Queen Victoria
decided without telling anyone at the hall that it would be changed from
the Central Hall Of Arts And Sciences to the Royal Albert Hall.
Ha-ha. That's what they call a 'fait accompli' - a royal edict!
The Hall finally opened in March, 1871, and a year later,
just across the road, it was joined by the lavish Albert Memorial,
whose considerable expense Prime Minister Gladstone was reluctant
to fund from the public purse,
thus deepening his rift with Queen Victoria.
The Hall required a million bricks and 80,000 blocks of terracotta.
Its most remarkable feature was the 185-foot-wide dome of glass
and wrought iron that crowns the building.
Oh, my goodness, this fantastic span!
At the time, it was the largest unsupported dome in the world
and it was made in Manchester and brought down to London
on horse and cart. What on earth does it weigh?
Well, including the glazing, the roof weighs an astonishing 600 tonnes!
Liz is leading me to the apex of the dome,
suspended high above the auditorium.
Oh, that is a long way d... Oh, I mustn't look down.
I think I might have to ask for your arm. Right. Let's tr...
Oh, my goodness! This is weird.
Let's walk across the poles. (Oh, dear.)
Ah! HE GROANS
How high above the auditorium are we?
We're 44 metres to the arena floor. Oh, my goodness.
Now why was this built?
This was built really as Victorian ventilation for the Hall,
so the hot air would rise and come out the top. Hmm, yes.
The Victorian engineering is extraordinary,
but I'm thankful to be returning to terra firma to continue my journey.
I'm boarding the Underground for the last time on this London tour
because, to reach my next stop, I need to join the mainline network
at Victoria.
I'm bound for Battersea, where the railway arrived in 1867.
TUBE PA SYSTEM: Next station is Battersea Park.
My 1870s Bradshaw's notes its gardens, park and old church,
but this quiet village was turning into an industrialised suburb.
Between 1841 and 1901,
the population grew from 6,500 to nearly 170,000.
And as Victorian London's human population soared,
so did the numbers of stray animals on its streets.
I'm hearing from Claire Horton how this situation gave birth
to a Battersea institution.
So, Battersea Dogs Home was actually found in Victorian period, was it?
Mm-hm. We were founded in 1860 by a lady called Mary Tealby,
who came to London after her divorce and was just really concerned
by the numbers of stray, starving and lost dogs on the streets
and wanted to do something about it.
The Home moved this site in 1871, and from the early 20th century,
there have been kennels in these railway arches.
They're now being refurbished to improve the dogs' accommodation,
but in Victorian times, not everyone saw the necessity of treating
stray animals kindly.
There was a rather scathing article in The Times in the very early days
in 1862 saying that it felt our founders had taken leave
of their sober senses.
But we were pretty much saved by Charles Dickens,
who came to the rescue of the Home by actually writing an article
really almost contrasting the lives of pedigree dogs
and their aristocratic owners with the lives of stray street dogs
and the people who lived in sort of the poorer areas of London.
And he was very, very positive, very supportive of the Home.
And so the whole attitude to animal welfare really started to shift
as a consequence of that.
By the late 1880s, the problem of stray dogs was so bad
that the police were authorised to impound them,
and soon up to 25,000 animals a year were being brought to Battersea.
People would often have their dogs seized from them,
from railway stations if they were trying to travel with their dogs
and they didn't have a muzzle on the dog as was a legal requirement
at that time. And at one point during 1898, in 50 days,
we took almost 11,000 dogs.
Thankfully, London these days has fewer strays.
Even so, the Home admits about 9,000 animals annually.
Hello. This is Lucy. Lucy's actually a typical stray come in,
found at Pimlico railway station. Ah, were you, Lucy?
She's about 18 months old.
LUCY BARKS Good girl.
Before a dog can be given a new home, it is carefully assessed
and given much-needed affection by staff and volunteers.
DOGS BARK AND WHINE
And who's this? This is Sheba. Hello, Sheba.
She's one of our current residents. She's now ready to find a new home,
so we're giving her a bath. Hey, sweetheart.
Is she enjoying it? Yeah.
That's a good girlie. It's a thick coat, isn't it? It is a thick coat.
Good girl.
Former politician comes off the tracks and goes to the dogs.
Lovely! THEY LAUGH
With a bit of luck, spruced-up Sheba will soon find a new home.
Home's where I'm bound to sleep
before embarking on the last day of my tour of London.
A new dawn, and I'm back on the South Bank of the Thames
to track down the story of an industry that was blooming
back in Bradshaw's day.
According to Bradshaw's, "Covent Garden is celebrated as being
"the mart for the most delicate and choicest flowers grown
"or imported into England."
A visit to a flower market, now wouldn't that be lovely?
The Central London market described in my guidebook dated back
to the Middle Ages, when it was the convent garden of an abbey.
But 40 years ago, it was relocated here,
down the line from Vauxhall Station.
Helen Evans has researched its history.
Now, the image I have of Covent Garden based on My Fair Lady,
a poor flower selling girl,
that's typical, I suppose, of the late 19th century,
even the early 20th century.
Yes, you would have had two types of girls selling flowers.
You'd have had the waifs who were very much on the breadline,
just selling and making very, very small amounts on the posies,
but you would also have others who would use it almost as a cover
for begging or at worst prostitution.
Oh, so to be a flower girl had a sort of double meaning? Absolutely.
For middle and upper class Victorians,
fresh flowers were a mark of status.
No gentleman would venture forth without sporting a buttonhole.
And city-dwellers gained access to a wider variety of blooms
than ever before.
Pre-railway, it would have all been locally grown.
And it was only with the onset of the railways that they were able to bring
in product from further afield - from the south-west,
the Channel Islands even, and particularly France.
In fact, I have luggage labels here. Oh, my goodness.
This is from a grower who, in Provence, who was growing violets
that they'd send up to markets in wicker baskets.
And these are the luggage labels for the Boulogne boat train,
and they would have come on into London.
From London's various stations,
the flowers were transferred by horse and cart
and later lorries to Covent Garden.
By the 1960s, this traffic was clogging the streets.
And in 1974, the market finally moved to the site
of the former goods yard
of the London and South Western Railway Company.
The modern market is carefully temperature- and light-controlled
to keep the flowers at their peak.
But traders like Bob Cooley have fond memories
of the rough-and-ready market
that readers of my Bradshaw's would have known.
How do you do? Hello, Bob. My name's Michael. Hello there, Michael.
How long have you been in the business?
43 years. No?! Yes!
Anyone before you in your family? Grandfather. Yeah. Dad. Really.
Had a brother up here. One time, I had two uncles up here.
Yeah, there's quite a tribe of us at one time, Michael.
Obviously, you remember the old Covent Garden? Very much so,
love it. When we had the three-day week, which your opposition...
In the early 1970s. ..which your opposition made available for us,
we put all lanterns up. So if you can imagine old Covent Garden,
Dickensian, with Tilley lamps, it was like going back in the day.
Do you miss that place? Ah, it's a different world.
This is business business.
I once found from the Opera House, I'm sure it was a fella's skull,
I took it home, wrapped it up and gave my mum it for her birthday!
She wasn't too pleased, but you used to find all sorts of things
like that from all the different theatres.
The stars used to get over there and you'd see them.
My dad would point out to me, "See that man over there?"
And I was some 15-year-old boy.
"That's Lionel Bart, he wrote Oliver!"
Fantastic, you're rubbing shoulders with very famous people, aren't you?
It was great!
Bob also remembers the days when lorries filled with boxes
of flowers left New Covent Garden three times a day,
bound for the London termini, where trains would carry them on
to destinations across the land.
You can write 'Sym's of Aberdeen' on there. Is that with an 'I'?
Whatever. My spelling might be different to yours!
I'll put it with a 'Y'. Sym's.
Aberdeen. Yeah. And a special word at the bottom,
I'll tell you what it is. Oh, I hope it's a nice word! It is.
TBCF.
To be collected? Called for. Called for. That's right.
There we are. There you go.
Would you like to take it out to the loading bay now? Deliver it?
Absolutely.
Shall we pop your book on there, Michael,
so you can take that with you?
Since the 1990s, the trains no longer play a big role
in the flower trade, but who knows what the future holds?
Right now, London is in the midst of a railway renaissance,
and the very last leg of my London itinerary takes me to a station
with a crucial role in the capital's future development.
Bradshaw's tells me that "the London terminus
"of the Southeastern railway is situated on the Surrey side
"of London Bridge. It's been enlarged to meet the requirements
"of the various lines of which it is now the conjoint termini."
That's been one of the problems for London Bridge.
It has this dual personality as both a terminus station
and a through station, too.
And Bradshaw's remarks that it's not spectacular,
but I have a feeling that's about to change.
As suggested by my guidebook, since Victorian times,
London Bridge has stood at the nexus of railway lines feeding in
from across the South East.
But the tangle of tracks that grew up in Bradshaw's day
was not built with 21st-century commuter traffic in mind.
Today this vital junction is a bottleneck
and the station is ill-equipped to handle the 277 passengers per minute
who arrive here at peak times.
London Bridge station, at a point
where, what, six or seven pedestrian tunnels converge in one place,
and people just kind of bump into each other
like chaotic streams of ants.
Thanks to a chequered past,
with competing companies running services here,
for much of its history, London Bridge has effectively
been two stations.
Until recently, there were six through platforms in one half
and nine terminating platforms in the other, linked by a footbridge.
But now, as part of the £6.5 billion Thameslink Programme
to expand London's north-south railway capacity,
that's all changing.
Andrew Hutton has been working on the project for five years.
What a mammoth building site!
What we've got to do is get a lot more trains through London Bridge,
so London Bridge unlocks the whole of the Thameslink project.
So the work going on now really is to create more through platforms
and thereby reduce some of the terminating platforms.
This enables us to put the 18 trains an hour extra
we've got to put through for the Thameslink Programme.
At the minute, there's just no room to do that.
The Victorians ran the first North-South through services
via London Bridge, crossing the Thames at Blackfriars.
Nowadays, a maximum of four trains an hour ply the route,
with barely one an hour at peak times.
To rectify that severe shortage of capacity,
the platforms are being completely reconfigured
to provide nine through lines -
all while London Bridge remains open to passengers.
It's a huge game of chess really, which I always describe to people
in some sense is brilliant, makes you come into work every day and think,
"Wow," and in the other sense, it keeps you awake at night thinking,
"How on earth are we going to do that?"
MICHAEL LAUGHS It's leaving you apparently
with a lovely big...what, kind of underpass here.
What's that going to be, then?
Well, basically this is a brand-new concourse that we're building.
It's bigger than the size of Wembley Football pitch.
We have this huge area that will link the whole station,
so for the first time in its history,
you'll be able to access any of the platforms from the same level.
So that little warren that I came trough earlier, that disappears?
All that goes.
The new concourse must be carved out of the Victorian architecture
that underpins the existing station.
It's a real labyrinth under here, isn't it? Indeed, I think actually
this is a very good place to just to stop, to show you an idea
of how the station's been developed with different sets of arches
depending when they were built. If you look into the distance,
you can see about three different variations of arch,
and behind that, the new concourse is starting.
So it'll work its way, gnawing through all these arches,
right through to the other side on Tooley Street.
So alas, we're going to lose these Victorian arches?
Well, yes, you'll lose some.
We have to take arches out to enable us to put the big concourse in,
but leave them all around the edges.
The new concourse will be spectacular,
and the project also addresses the nuts and bolts of railway operation.
Every last rail and sleeper is being replaced
in one of the largest track renewal and re-signalling projects ever.
Right, Michael, what we see here is the new platforms
that we're just preparing at the minute. We've got about a month left
to get this ready to give over to the track guys,
put all the ballast down, put the tracks in.
The scale of this enterprise, the scale of this vision,
it is positively Victorian.
The Thameslink project is one of many
that are refashioning the capital.
Where better to take stock of the transformation
than from London Bridge's newest neighbour, the Shard?
As a Londoner, I try to sense the excitement that the Victorians felt
as they built the cathedrals of steam like London Bridge station,
800 feet beneath me, and The Royal Albert Hall.
But in truth, it takes little imagination.
Standing at the top of Europe's tallest building
and having seen the works that are being done
to create new railway lines from north to south and east to west,
I believe the metropolis is undergoing its greatest renewal
since Queen Victoria graced the throne.
'Next time, I help to give an old engine a fresh start...'
Ooh, my goodness! George is getting appallingly damaged here.
'..discover the macho side of the poet Baron...'
He was a fantastic boxer. He had the champion of England,
Gentleman Jackson, actually teach him how to box.
'..and find that my cooking skills
'aren't what they're cracked up to be.'
There's a bit of egg shell in there, Michael. That's a point deducted.