The Flawed Genius

To his modern admirers, Isambard Kingdom Brunel is the man who “built the world”. A cigar-smoking, top hat-sporting genius whose creations stand as testimony to all that was most innovative about Victorian Britain. So why, asks Crosbie Smith – did so many of his projects turn into commercial disaster zones that left investors cursing his name and their luck?

 

When the roof of the newly constructed Thames Tunnel collapsed in 1828, one of the most glittering, celebrated careers in British engineering history – that of Isambard Kingdom Brunel – was almost snuffed out before it began, under a pile of rubble.

The Thames Tunnel Project was meant to be the young Brunel’s big break: a vast, complex, high-profile enterprise that would link the docks north and south of the river and secure his reputation as a coming force in the world of engineering. Instead, it almost cost him his life.

Brunel had been groomed for a major project like this for years. His father Marc, a brilliant French engineer who had fled his homeland during the French Revolution, had made his son his apprentice and then his assistant, and done all he could to pass on his extensive repertoire of skills.

So when Marc was given charge of the Thames Tunnel Project – which aimed to facilitate the secure transport of goods from one side of the imperial capital to the other – it was only natural that he would appoint Isambard as his resident engineer. Unfortunately, the father was handing the son a poisoned chalice. Thanks to unstable gravels and silts on the bed of the Thames, the tunnel was routinely inundated by river water. The digging was blighted by poor internal ventilation – and soon costs were spiralling.

Worse was to follow. Shortly after tunnelling reached the halfway point in 1828, the roof collapsed. Six men died and Isambard had the closest of shaves, making a dramatic escape after sustaining serious injuries. With capital exhausted, work on the project ceased for seven years (it was eventually completed as a foot tunnel in 1843).

Only Brunel’s knack for self-promotion – spinning the debacle into a heroic, against-the-odds brush with death – limited the damage to his reputation. For the young engineer, it had been a sobering experience.