Note 425 — Chapter XIII

In the summer of 1857, the late Robert Stephenson and I paid a visit to the ship. We were accompanied by Brunel. The hull was then drawing towards completion, and preparations for launching were about to be commenced. After thoroughly inspecting everything about the vessel, Brunel asked me what I thought of her. “Well,” I replied, “she is the strongest and best built ship I ever saw and she is really a marvellous piece of mechanism.” “Oh,” he said, rather testily and abruptly, “I did not want your opinion about her build. I should think I know rather more about how an iron ship should be put together than you do. How will she pay?”

“Ah,” I replied, “that is quite a different matter;” and, seeing that I did not care to answer his question, he repeated it, adding, “If she belonged to you in what trade would you place her?” “Turn her into a show,” I said, with a laugh, “something attractive to the masses; for, if you insist on having my opinion about her commercial capabilities, it is only in that direction where you can look for profit. She will never pay as a ship. Send her to Brighton, dig out a hole in the beach and bed her stern in it, and if well set she would make a substantial pier and her deck a splendid promenade; her hold would make magnificent salt-water baths and her ’tween decks a grand hotel, with restaurant, smoking and dancing saloons, and I know not what all. She would be a marvellous attraction for the cockneys, who would flock to her in thousands.” And, as I saw he was far from pleased with my answer—no wonder—though given half in joke and half in earnest, I added, “As you would insist on having my opinion, I have given it to you candidly, for I really do not know any other trade, at present, in which she will be likely to pay so well.” Stephenson laughed, but Brunel never forgave me.