June 28, 1870.

‘Dear Isambard Brunel,—I will endeavour to supply you with some reminiscences of your father, before he became a public man, and was engrossed by the very severe labour of his profession.

‘The most striking feature in his character as a young man, and one which afterwards produced such great results, was an entire abnegation of self in his intercourse with his friends and associates.

‘His influence among them was unbounded, but never sought by him; it was the result of his love of fair play, of his uniform kindness and willingness to assist them, of the confidence he inspired in his judgment, and of the simplicity and high-mindedness of his character.

‘From 1824 to 1832 he joined his friends in every manly sport; and when, after his accident at the Tunnel, he was obliged to withdraw from more violent exercise, he was still ready to co-operate in the arrangements required to give effect to whatever was in hand.

‘Whether in boating, in pic-nic parties, or in private theatricals, he was always the life and soul of the party; for his skilful arrangements, as well as his never-failing invention and power of adaptation of whatever came to hand, made him the invariable leader in every amusement or sport in which he took part.

‘To ensure the success of his friends in a rowing match against time, from London to Oxford and back, in 1828, he designed and superintended the building of a four-oared boat, which, in length and in the proportion of its length to its breadth, far exceeded any boat of the kind which had then been seen on the Thames.

‘During that portion of the period to which these notes refer, when your father was engaged at the Tunnel works, the freshness and energy with which he joined in the amusements of his friends after many consecutive days and nights spent in the Tunnel—for frequently he did not go to bed, I might almost say, for weeks together—surprised them all.

‘His power of doing without sleep for long intervals was most remarkable. He also possessed the power, which I have never seen equalled in any other man, of maintaining a calm and even temper, never showing irritation even when he was bearing an amount of mental and bodily fatigue which few could have sustained. His presence of mind and courage never failed him, and it was especially exhibited after the first irruption of water into the Tunnel, when he descended in the diving-bell to examine the extent of the disturbance of the bed of the river, and the injury, if any, which had been done to the brickwork.

‘The bell could not be lowered deep enough, and he dropped himself out of the bell, holding on by a rope, and ascertained by careful examination that the brickwork was uninjured.

‘He was several minutes in the water; and upon this fact being stated, many persons, and I think the officers of the Royal Humane Society, denied the possibility of his retaining his consciousness so long in the water, forgetting, which he did not, that his lungs were filled with air at two and a half atmospheres’ pressure.

‘In 1830, he joined the Surrey Yeomanry and attended drill, and was out with the troop to which he belonged on several occasions.

‘In this capacity he was as popular as in every other; but his remarkable talent in obtaining personal influence, even among those with whom he was comparatively a stranger, was about this time most usefully exhibited during the election of his brother-in-law as member for Lambeth.

‘He made friends and conciliated opponents among all classes of electors—especially among working men, large bodies of whom he met on several occasions—and among all shades of politicians; and to his energy, good judgment and skilful arrangement of electioneering details, which were not then so well understood as they now are, very much of the success achieved was due.

‘No one, I believe, ever saw him out of temper or heard him utter an ill-natured word. He often said that spite and ill-nature were the most expensive luxuries in life; and his advice, then often sought, was given with that clearness and decision, and that absence of all prejudice, which characterised his opinions in after-life.

‘All his friends of his own age were attached to him in no ordinary degree, and they watched every step in his future career with pride and interest.

‘In fact, he was a joyous, open-hearted, considerate friend, willing to contribute to the pleasure and enjoyment of those about him; well knowing his own power, but never intruding it to the annoyance of others, unless he was thwarted or opposed by pretentious ignorance; and then, though at times decided and severe in his remarks, he generally preferred leaving such individuals to themselves, rather than, by noticing them, to give prominence to their deficiencies.

‘His appreciation of character was so exact, and his dislike to anything approaching to vulgarity in thought or action or to undue assumption was so decided, that to be his friend soon became a distinction; and the extent to which his society was sought, not only in private life, but in the scientific world, at this early period, marked strongly the distinguishing features of his mind and character.

‘In 1825 and 1826 he attended the morning lectures at the Royal Institution, and the eagerness and rapidity with which he followed the chemical discoveries which were then being made by Mr. Faraday, showed the facility with which he gained and retained scientific knowledge.

‘To write more would lead me to the events of a later period of his life, in the history of which you require no aid from me; nevertheless, I cannot refrain from adding a few words upon your father’s personal and professional character, which was not, in my opinion, adequately appreciated by the public.

‘His professional friends before his death, and his private friends at all times, well knew the genius, the intense energy, and indefatigable industry with which every principle and detail of his profession was mastered; and both knew and valued the high moral tone which pervaded every act of his life.

‘The public, however, did not see him under the same circumstances.

‘Their imperfect acquaintance with his character arose in a great degree from his disregard of popular approbation, for he was never so satisfied with his own work as to feel himself entitled to receive praise in the adulatory style of modern writing, and he preferred to work quietly in his own sphere, and to rely on the intrinsic merits of his undertakings bringing their reward, rather than to court temporary popularity.

‘The rapidity with which he gained a high position as a civil engineer is the best evidence of his talents. He passed almost direct from boyhood to an equality with any one then in the profession—a position attained by the rapidity and accuracy with which he could apply theory to practice, and support his conclusions by mathematical demonstrations.

‘This knowledge, always used without ostentation, soon placed him above most of his contemporaries; and his intimate acquaintance with the strength and peculiarities of the various materials he had to employ, and of the best and most economical mode of applying them, impressed both directors and contractors with a degree of confidence in his estimates and opinions which no one had before possessed.

‘His power of observation was singularly accurate; he was not satisfied with a hasty or superficial examination, nor with the mere assertion of a fact; his mind required evidence of its correctness before he could receive and adopt it. I may illustrate this by a reference to the experiments he made with French mesmerists, and the pains he took to expose the farce of table-turning and its accompanying follies.

‘My object, however, by this addition to my note, is to dwell upon the fact that he left a mark upon his profession which cannot be obliterated. He set up a high standard of professional excellence, and endeavoured to impress on all who were associated with him, or under him professionally, that to attain the highest honours required the strictest integrity, sound mathematical knowledge, originality and accuracy of thought and expression, both in viva voce descriptions and in designs and working drawings, and a practical acquaintance with the durability and strength of materials, so as to know the best conditions under which each might be applied.

‘It was his excellence in these respects, when still young, which soon earned for him a great reputation as a witness before the Committees of the Houses of Parliament.

‘His calmness and unobtrusive manner, when under severe examination, or while attending public meetings, led many to think him cold, and regardless of the feelings or interests of those with whom he was associated; but nothing was further from his character, as every one knew who was engaged in the consultations upon the result of which future proceedings depended.

‘He was a prudent and cautious, but bold adviser, and a warm-hearted and generous friend.

‘Yours faithfully,
‘W. Hawes.

‘Isambard Brunel, Esq.’

February, 1870.

‘My dear Isambard,—You ask me to jot down for you any reminiscences I have of your father’s love and feeling for art.

‘I remember with singular distinctness the first time I ever saw him, when I was a lad of fourteen, and had just obtained my studentship at the Royal Academy. He criticised with great keenness and judgment a drawing which I had with me, and at the same time gave me a lesson on paper straining. From that time till his death he was my most intimate friend. Being naturally imbued with artistic taste and perception of a very high order, his critical remarks were always of great value, and were made with an amount of good humour which softened their occasionally somewhat trying pungency. He had a remarkably accurate eye for proportion, as well as taste for form. This is evinced in every line to be found in his sketch books, and in all the architectural features of his various works.

‘So small an incident as the choice of colour in the original carriages of the Great Western Railway, and any decorative work called for on the line, gave public evidence of his taste in colour; but those who remember the gradual arrangement and fitting up of his house in Duke Street will want no assurance from me of your father’s rare artistic feeling. He passed, I believe, the pleasantest of his leisure moments in decorating that house, and well do I remember our visits in search of rare furniture, china, bronzes, &c., with which he filled it, till it became one of the most remarkable and attractive houses in London. Its interest was greatly increased when he formed that magnificent dining-room, now, with the house of which it was a part, pulled down. This room, hung with pictures, with its richly carved fireplace, doorways, and ceiling, its silken hangings and Venetian mirrors, lighted up on one of the many festive gatherings frequent in that hospitable house, formed a scene which none will forget who had the privilege of taking part in it. When from time to time he went abroad, and especially in his visit to Venice in 1852, he added to his collection by purchases made with great judgment and skill. In buying pictures, your father evinced a taste often found in men of refined mind and feeling—viz. a repugnance to works, however excellent in themselves, where violent action was represented. He preferred pictures where the subject partook more of the suggestive than the positive, and where a considerable scope was left in which the imagination of the spectator might disport itself. This feeling was displayed in a great love of landscape art, and in the keenest appreciation of the beauties of nature. It is an interesting fact to record, and one which I often heard him mention, when his friends were admiring his beautiful grounds at Watcombe, that in the old posting days, when travelling on the cliff road between Teignmouth and Torquay, he constantly stopped the carriage to get out and admire the view which he had discovered from a field at Watcombe, little thinking then that it would ultimately be the site of his intended country home.

‘When your father and I went to Italy together in 1842, posting from Westminster to Rome and back again, I had ample opportunities of observing his love and enthusiasm for nature and art.

‘Overwhelmed as he was with work in England at the time, it was no easy matter for him to leave the country for a couple of months; and I remember that our starting at all was uncertain up to the last moment; and that, an hour before quitting London, it was only by a coup de thÉÂtre, which he most adroitly performed, that he escaped the serving of a subpoena, the bearer of which had actually penetrated to the dining-room door in Duke Street.

‘We left London one evening in April 1842. During our journey we constantly passed several consecutive days and nights in the carriage; and I am sure there was not one of our waking hours in which some incident of interest did not occur.

‘I remember your father agreeing with me, that our experiences merely of post-boys and their various characteristics would be worthy of recording in detail—from Newman’s two smart lads, who took us the first stage out of London, on to the genuine “postillon” (boots and all) we found at Calais; then to the wild young brigands (in appearance) who, inspired by the prospect of extra “buon mano,” whirled us along the road from Civita Vecchia towards Rome, and winding up with the stolid German who rose slowly in his stirrups, and distracted us by a melancholy performance on the horn slung round him, and which no entreaty would induce him to give up.

‘We posted from Calais, vi Paris, to ChÂlons-sur-SaÔne, marvelling the whole way whereabouts “La Belle France” was to be found; for a drearier and more utterly monotonous ride of something like 800 miles it is impossible to conceive. From ChÂlons we went down the river to Lyons, then onwards, visiting Nismes, and through Arles to Toulon.

‘From Toulon we went through Cannes and Nice and along the lovely Cornice road to Genoa. Your father was intensely delighted with this portion of the journey. Those wonderfully picturesque towns, with their roccoco churches looking like toys, and painted all over upon the principle of colour generally developed in that species of art, especially interested him. The streets were so narrow that it was sometimes doubtful whether the carriage could be squeezed through, and more than once it grazed the houses on either side as it passed on.

‘The work for which your father had come to Italy commenced at Genoa, and he was met there by a staff appointed by the Government to accompany him during his stay.

‘While at Genoa he came to me one morning and said, that, in consequence of some delay, he had a week in which to make complete holiday, and gave me the choice of Florence or Rome. I need scarcely say that I chose Rome, and for three days we were in the Eternal City, seeing more in that time than those to whom we related our proceedings could believe.

‘How well do I remember our entering Rome by the gate on the Civita Vecchia road, and standing up in the carriage to get our first view of St. Peter’s, and, having seen it, the blank look of disappointment we turned on each other at the sight! But the interior of the great church as far exceeded our expectations as the exterior had fallen short of them.

‘We were back at Genoa to the minute your father had appointed; and the work being completed there, we went on to Turin. Here we were in time to be present at the Court balls and ceremonies consequent upon the marriage of the present King of Italy.

‘From Turin we proceeded to Milan.

‘At Milan your father parted from his staff, and completed the work he had undertaken as far as it was necessary to do so in Italy. From Milan, therefore, our journey home was one of uninterrupted enjoyment through those glorious Lombard towns to Venice, which happily we reached in a gondola from Mestre, and not by a railway viaduct; then through the Tyrol to Munich, and so down the Rhine to Belgium, reaching home from Antwerp.

‘Thus was completed an expedition in which there was neither hitch nor disagreeable adventure of any kind, and upon which I look back with unmixed pleasure.

‘The next and last time that your father and I journeyed on the Continent together was in April 1848, when he wished to see Paris in Republican garb, and asked me to accompany him.

‘We were there for some days, and, armed with cards of admission, on which our names were inscribed with the prefix of “Citoyen,” heard and saw the various celebrities of the hour.

‘Affectionately yours,
J. C. Horsley.

‘Isambard Brunel, Esq.’

I shall be much obliged by your giving insertion to the following statement of the treatment pursued by Sir Benjamin Brodie in the case of Mr. Brunel, it being the wish of Mr. Brunel and his friends that the true facts should be known, as a just tribute to the skill of this eminent surgeon, and as a guide to future practice. The accident happened on April 3; Sir B. Brodie was consulted on the 18th, and his opinion was that the half-sovereign had passed into the windpipe. The following day Mr. Brunel strengthened this opinion by a simple experiment. He bent his head and shoulders over a chair, and distinctly felt the coin drop towards the glottis; whilst raising himself a violent fit of coughing came on, which ceased after a few minutes. He repeated this a second time, with the same results. A consultation was held on the 22nd, at which it was decided that conclusive evidence existed of the half-sovereign having passed into the windpipe, that it was probably lodged at the bottom of the right bronchus, and that it was movable. It was determined that every effort should be made for its removal, and that for this purpose an apparatus should be constructed for inverting the body of the patient, in order that the weight of the coin might assist the natural effort to expel it by coughing. The first experiment was made on the 25th. The body of the patient being inverted, and the back gently struck with the hand between the shoulders, violent cough came on, but of so convulsive and alarming a nature that danger was apprehended, and the experiment was discontinued. On this occasion the coin was again moved from its situation, and slipped towards the glottis. On the 27th tracheotomy was performed by Sir B. Brodie, assisted by Mr. Aston Key, with the intention of extracting the coin by the forceps, if possible, or, in the event of this failing, with the expectation that the opening in the windpipe would facilitate a repetition of the experiment of the 22nd. On this occasion, and subsequently on May 2, the introduction of the forceps was attended with so much irritation, that it could not be persevered in without danger to life. On the 3rd another consultation was held, when Mr. Lawrence and Mr. Stanley entirely confirmed the views of Sir B. Brodie and Mr. Key, and it was agreed that the experiment of inversion should be repeated as soon as Mr. Brunel had recovered sufficient strength, the incision in the windpipe being kept open. On Saturday, the 13th, Mr. Brunel was again placed on the apparatus, the body inverted, and the back gently struck. After two or three coughs, he felt the coin quit its place on the right side of the chest, and in a few seconds it dropped from his mouth without exciting in its passage through the glottis any distress or inconvenience, the opening in the windpipe preventing any spasmodic action of the glottis.

In this remarkable case the following circumstances appear to be worthy of note—that a piece of gold remained in the air-tube for six weeks, quite movable, and without exciting any inflammatory action, the breathing entirely undisturbed, and the only symptoms of its presence occasional uneasiness on the right side of the chest and frequent fits of coughing; that an accurate diagnosis was formed without being able to obtain any assistance from the stethoscope, although the chest was repeatedly and carefully examined; and also that, a fair trial having been given to the forceps, the application of this instrument to the removal of a body of this peculiar form from the bottom of the bronchus was proved to be attended with great risk to life, while the cautious and well-considered plan of treatment above detailed was attended with complete success, and without risk.