Cold Open

It’s January 12th, 1828, deep beneath the ground in Southeast London.

Isambard Kingdom Brunel puffs on a cigar and watches as two laborers standing on a raised platform maneuver a long plank of wood into position.

They’re 60 feet down, working on the first ever tunnel beneath the River Thames. One of the youngest engineers on the project, 21-year-old Brunel, is eager to prove himself. His father, Marc Isambard Brunel, is the project’s chief designer. But the younger Brunel doesn’t want anyone to think he got his job because of that connection. So he works 20-hour shifts, getting only a few hours of sleep every night.

Now, in the flickering gaslight, Brunel watches the workers hammer the plank into the roof of the tunnel. It’s dangerous work. Wooden boards like this form a protective shield that is the only barrier between them and the River Thames above.

But the men are tired—they’ve been working all night. And from the tunnel floor, Brunel can see that something isn’t right.

The new board is askew, and silt is trickling through the gap. But before Brunel can warn them—

A torrent of gray water bursts through the roof, knocking the men off the platform.

Helping them to their feet, Brunel orders everyone out of the tunnel immediately. He knows the breach is irreparable. The only thing that matters now is getting away.

They turn and wade through the water, which is now gushing around their feet and growing deeper every second. As fast as they can, they head back toward the stairs. But then the flood douses the gaslights, and the tunnel is plunged into darkness.

Fear grips Brunel. Groping through the waist-deep water, he grabs at the scaffolding that lines the tunnel and pulls himself along.

But the scaffolding is now being lifted by the churning water. Suddenly, the structure flips, crashing down on top of Brunel and pinning him beneath the water.

He thrashes as hard as he can, trying to free himself.

Twisting and wrenching with increasing desperation, he finally manages to pull free and resurfaces. Gasping for breath, he glimpses a distant light. His only chance is to swim for it.

So Brunel kicks through the water, ignoring the pain and exhaustion. And just as his strength begins to fade, Brunel’s hand lands on a rope.

He holds on for dear life as a sudden surge of water propels him on toward the light.

Six miners lose their lives in the Thames Tunnel flood, but Isambard Kingdom Brunel is lucky. He is found unconscious outside the tunnel entrance and is carried to safety.

While he’s lying in a hospital bed recovering from his injuries, Brunel hears of a competition to design a bridge across the mighty Avon gorge in Bristol. He immediately begins sketching a complicated structure that will eventually win the commission. But 33 years will pass, and the young Brunel will become an icon of the Industrial Revolution before his bridge finally opens on December 8th, 1864.

Introduction

From Noiser and Airship, I’m Lindsay Graham, and this is History Daily.

History is made every day. On this podcast—every day—we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world.

Today is December 8th, 1864: The Opening of the Clifton Suspension Bridge.

Act One: A Bridge Too Far

It’s the morning of July 21st, 1831, in Bristol, west England, three and a half years after the Thames Tunnel flood.

Isambard Kingdom Brunel stands at the edge of the Avon gorge and peers down into the chasm below. It’s a dramatic sight. The steep, limestone walls drop almost 300 feet to the river glinting below.

And it’s here that the 25-year-old Brunel plans to build a spectacular bridge.

A new crossing over the River Avon has been needed for decades—Bristol is the biggest port on the West Coast of England, and it’s growing fast. But a traditional bridge of arched stone won’t do. Tall-rigged ships sail up the river from the sea to reach the city’s docks. An ordinary bridge would block their way. So, Bristol needs something different, a new type of bridge that can soar high above the ships passing below.

So two years ago, in 1829, an open competition was launched calling for designs, and Brunel entered. But he faced stiff competition. The well-respected British architect Thomas Telford submitted his own ambitious design for a 400-foot bridge supported by giant Gothic towers. And the expectation was that he would win the commission. But Brunel impressed the judges with a smaller and cheaper bridge featuring ornate and fashionable Egyptian-style towers at each end. And in March 1831, his design was chosen.

Four months later, construction is about to begin. Gathered at the edge of the cliff are some of Bristol's wealthiest landowners and businessmen. They’ve all come to witness the first shovel enter the earth.

But very soon after this groundbreaking ceremony, problems begin to mount for the bridge. Legal challenges and funding shortfalls slow the pace of construction, before political turmoil throws the future of the entire project into doubt. In London, the House of Lords rejects the Second Reform Bill, a new law that would give places like Bristol greater representation in Parliament. In response, riots break out in Bristol, and the city goes up in flames.

Brunel himself volunteers to help quell the riots. And arriving in the center of Bristol, he can’t believe his eyes. The grand pillars of the Mayor’s residence are black. Smoke still billows out of its shattered windows, and smashed statues and bits of furniture lie scattered across its front steps.

With two other volunteers, Brunel creeps up to the front door. He grabs a broken chair leg to protect himself before heading inside, but the building is now deserted. Brunel and the others salvage what valuables they can and carry them to the safety of the building next door.

The riots are soon brought under control, but lasting damage has been done, and it's not just to the Mayor’s residence. In the aftermath of this unrest, Bristol is hit with an economic slump, and the work on the expensive Clifton Suspension Bridge is halted indefinitely.

With construction on hold, Brunel embarks on a grand tour of England. He’s seeking both new projects and new inspiration. He travels by coach up to the northeast of England, where he designs a new harbor for the River Wear, then visits the ancient Durham Cathedral, before stopping off near Stockton to inspect the country’s first railway suspension bridge.

But he’s not impressed. With his meticulous eye, he can see that the bridge sags under the weight of passing coal wagons, and the columns supporting it will need replacing. He’s certain that his bridge in Clifton, if it ever was completed, would have been far superior.

After his visit to the northeast, Brunel then heads across the country and takes his first-ever journey on a steam train. Britain’s first passenger line opened only a few years ago in 1825, but many more are already planned, and Brunel wants to see this exciting new mode of transport for himself.

And as he looks out the carriage window, Brunel marvels at the new technology. But once again, he’s sure he can do better. Even at the speed of just 25 miles per hour, the carriage shakes so much that Brunel can’t read a book or write any notes.

So he begins to imagine a new railroad that would be smoother and faster. What he has in mind won’t be cheap, though. But Brunel thinks he knows just where to find the right investors.

Because he knows Bristol has been facing growing competition from other ports. Brunel believes he can use that to his advantage. If it will help protect their businesses, Bristol’s wealthy merchants will surely invest in a railroad linking their city with London.

So, Brunel returns to Bristol. His bridge upon the Avon Gorge will remain unfinished. But soon, Brunel have a far greater project to occupy him instead—one that will transform the landscape of England itself and make Isambard Kingdom Brunel a legend in his own time.

Act Two: The Great Railway

It’s the morning of March 6th, 1833, on a stagecoach from London to Bristol, a year and a half after construction stopped on the Clifton Suspension Bridge.

Isambard Kingdom Brunel sits outside at the back of the coach, blinking against the dirt and grit whipping across his face.

This is the cheapest seat on board, but that’s not why Brunel chose it. He’s surveying the land, taking note of every hill, valley, and stream they pass—deciphering the landscape for his next project—the Great Western Railway.

Brunel plans to link London with the port city of Bristol. But if this ambitious idea is to become a reality, he’ll need to show potential investors the plans are feasible. So, Brunel is traveling by horseback and coach back and forth along his intended route, stopping only for a few hours every night at secluded inns. He often works into the small hours of the morning, noting down endless gradients and measurements, before getting up and doing it all over again.

Finally, after months of this exhausting work, Brunel presents his survey to his investors in Bristol. The line will be 116 miles long and cost two and a half million pounds, a phenomenal amount of money in the early 1830s. Still, the project is so compelling that Brunel soon has all the investors he needs. The only obstacle that now stands in his way is Parliament.

The new railroad needs the approval of the government to go ahead. Some Members of Parliament oppose the project, though, fearing it will put canal and stagecoach owners out of business. But when Brunel is summoned to London in the summer of 1835, he has answers for every question the politicians pose. His encyclopedic knowledge of the English countryside and the principles of engineering win over most of the skeptics. On August 31st, 1835, the Great Western Railway Bill is passed, and construction gets underway shortly after.

Brunel employs thousands of laborers to carve his new railroad through the English countryside. Apart from some water pumps and gunpowder for breaking through rock, the entire track is built by hand. It’s exhausting and often dangerous work, and hundreds of workers are killed during the construction. Many are crushed by falling rocks. They fall into deep shafts. Or are blown apart by explosions. But Brunel is apparently unconcerned by the growing list of casualties. To him, building something magnificent is worth their sacrifice.

Brunel himself never stops working and never stops dreaming. Before the railway line is even finished, Brunel has another grand idea.

He pitches it to investors—they should extend the railroad across the Atlantic. He’s not suggesting an enormous, transcontinental bridge. Instead, he wants the Great Western Railway to connect directly with a steamboat that can carry passengers on to New York. A steamship has never crossed the Atlantic before, but Brunel becomes increasingly obsessed with the idea. He commissions a designer and a shipbuilder, and by March 1838, his SS Great Western is ready.

Brunel is on board for its maiden voyage. But as the paddle-wheeled steamship approaches Bristol to pick up its first paying passengers, Brunel notices thick black smoke billowing out of its funnel. There’s a fire in the engine room. And within minutes, the deck is alight, in the confusion that follows, Brunel falls, dislocating his shoulder and breaking his leg. Deckhands quickly wrap Brunel up in a sail and lower him into a lifeboat that rows him to safety ashore.

Both Brunel and the Great Western survive the fire, but more than fifty passengers cancel their bookings on the first crossing. When the steamship finally does set off for New York, just seven passengers are on board. It’s not a promising start. But the ship safely arrives in America two weeks later and ushers in a new era of travel. People can now book a single ticket that will take them all the way from London to New York, making the world a little smaller, thanks to Brunel’s vision.

But of course, he’s still not satisfied. As Brunel recovers from his injuries, he gets to work designing an even bigger steamship that he dubs the SS Great Britain. Its launch in 1843 will be a landmark in maritime history—the first ocean-going ship with both an iron hull and a screw propeller. Armed with his trademark black stovepipe hat and an endless supply of cigars, Brunel will continue to push himself, summoning up ambitious new plans to revolutionize public transportation and engineering.

But he won’t live to see all his grand dreams come true. And one project from early in his career that he left frustratingly unfinished will eventually become a monument to his genius.

Act Three: Steamboats and Stovepipes

It’s December 8th, 1864, in Bristol, England, 33 years after construction began on the Clifton Suspension Bridge.

A young boy climbs a rock at the edge of the Avon Gorge, trying to get a better view. There’s a huge crowd around him on the cliffside. They haven’t been put off by the cold weather or the light rain swirling through the air. And in fact, to the boy, it seems like the whole of Bristol has come out to celebrate.

Stretching across the gorge in front of him are the sweeping chains and the tall square towers of the now finally complete Clifton Suspension Bridge.

The boy watches as tradesmen, engineers, and uniformed soldiers parade across the bridge. But one person is missing, the man who designed it: Isambard Kingdom Brunel.

Brunel died from a stroke five years ago, at the age of just 53. By then, the Clifton Suspension Bridge had been on hold for years. It was only after Brunel’s death that there was finally a push to finish it. Some changes have been made to the original plans, strengthening the ironwork and dropping the original Egyptian decorations on the towers. But the core of the design is pure Brunel. And it now stands as a spectacular monument to Brunel’s ingenuity. But it’s far from the only one.

Brunel’s legacy is etched into the landscape of Britain. During his lifetime, he laid over 1,000 miles of railroad and designed more than a hundred bridges. He revolutionized ship design and even built an innovative prefab military hospital for use in the Crimean War. Later, he will be recognized as one of Victorian Britain’s most important figures, and he will forever remain an icon of the country’s industrial heritage.

As for the Clifton Suspension Bridge, it will continue to carry millions of people across Avon Gorge every year. And it will be treasured as one of the symbols of the city of Bristol, as it was from the moment it opened on December 8th, 1864.

Outro

Next on History Daily. December 9th, 1967. In the middle of a performance in New Haven, Connecticut, the Doors singer Jim Morrison is arrested

From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily, hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

Audio editing by Muhammad Shahzaib.

Sound design by Mollie Baack.

Music by Thrumm.

This episode is written and researched by Angus Gavan McHarg.

Edited by William Simpson.

Managing producer Emily Burke.

Executive Producers are William Simpson for Airship and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.