
On 2 May 1859, Prince Albert arrived by special train from Windsor to open a bridge that should not have been buildable. Two enormous arches of riveted wrought iron, each 455 feet long, leapt across the River Tamar between Devon and Cornwall, suspended 100 feet above the spring tide. The Admiralty had refused every easier scheme. Brunel had been forced into something nobody had ever built at this scale: a lenticular truss, a wrought-iron eye whose top arch pushes outward and bottom chain pulls inward in such perfect balance that the spans exert no horizontal thrust on their stone piers. Brunel himself, ill and exhausted, could not attend the opening. He died four months later. The Great Western Railway placed his name above the portals at both ends, where it has remained for 167 years.
In the 1830s, two rival railways fought over how to reach Cornwall. The London and South Western Railway backed a central route, swinging north around Dartmoor from Exeter - easy to build, but serving very little in between. The Great Western Railway backed a coastal route through Plymouth and Devonport, harder to engineer but lined with naval traffic and the mineral wealth of St Austell. The Cornwall Railway, the GWR's local ally, applied to Parliament in 1845 with William Moorsom's idea of running trains across the Hamoaze on the Torpoint Ferry. Parliament said no. So Brunel took over as engineer and proposed something more ambitious: a bridge, higher upstream, at Saltash. The enabling Act passed on 3 August 1846. It took him another eight years to actually break ground.
Brunel's first instinct had been timber. The river is roughly 1,100 feet wide at Saltash; he sketched a double-track timber viaduct, central span of 255 feet, six approach spans, 80 feet of clearance above the water. The Admiralty, responsible for navigable waters, refused. He raised the clearance to 100 feet and reduced the spans to two of 300 and two of 200. The Admiralty refused again - the navy would tolerate only one pier in the navigable channel. Brunel went back to his drawing board, abandoned the timber double-track plan entirely, and came back with a single-track wrought-iron design featuring one improbable 850-foot span. The cost would have been £500,000 in 1846 money. Even Brunel blinked. He compromised again, settling on two main spans of 455 feet each, with a single midstream pier. This time the Admiralty said yes.
The trusses are shaped like lenses, and they work the way a lens works - by balancing opposing forces. The top chord of each truss is a heavy tubular wrought-iron arch in compression; under load it tries to lengthen. The bottom chord is a pair of suspension chains in tension; under load they try to shorten. Brunel sized the two so precisely that the changes cancel. The truss exerts no horizontal thrust on its piers, which mattered enormously, because the railway track curves on both approaches and any sideways push would have wrenched at the stonework. Between the chord and the chain, cross-bracing members and suspension standards hang down to carry the deck. It is one of the most elegant pieces of structural engineering in the nineteenth century, and it has worked, more or less unchanged, since 1857 when the first span was floated into place in front of a crowd of about 20,000.
Almost immediately, the bridge became a symbol. It was a labour of Hercules, declared an 1859 guidebook, but Mr Brunel has accomplished the feat. The Great Western's marketing department understood what they had. In its Cornish Riviera promotional copy, the writer SPB Mais described crossing the bridge as an almost magic means of transporting travellers from a county which is yet unmistakingly an English county to a Duchy which is in every respect un-English. The poet John Betjeman remembered the grey slate and back gardens of Plymouth giving way to the surprise of Saltash, the grey battleships moored below in the Tamar, and the steam ferry trying pathetically to compete with Brunel's mighty bridge. The structure has appeared on paintings, postcards, postage stamps, and on the reverse of the UK two-pound coin. ITV's regional news used to film against it. For 167 years it has been the moment you know you have arrived in Cornwall.
Brunel died on 15 September 1859, four months after the Prince's ribbon-cutting. His representative at the opening had been his chief assistant Robert Brereton. The directors of the Cornwall Railway placed the words I.K. BRUNEL ENGINEER 1859 in raised iron letters above the portals at each end of the bridge, and there they remain. The approach spans were rebuilt in the twentieth century and additional links between the suspension chains and decking added in 1969 to strengthen the structure. But the two great lenticular trusses, the impossible eyes of wrought iron 100 feet above the Tamar, are exactly the trusses Brunel designed. Trains still cross them every twenty minutes or so, carrying the Cornish Main Line in and out of the Duchy.
The Royal Albert Bridge spans the Tamar at 50.4076 deg N, 4.2033 deg W, immediately upstream of the modern Tamar Road Bridge that carries the A38. From the air the two side-by-side bridges - one a lenticular wrought-iron railway truss with its distinctive curved upper arch, the other a 1961 suspension bridge with a flat deck - make for one of the most recognisable transport landmarks in southwest England. Best viewed at 2,000-3,000 ft. Newquay (EGHQ) is the nearest active commercial airport; Exeter (EGTE) lies 40 nm east. The bridge marks the Devon-Cornwall border.