[Illustration: MATTHEWS’ PATENT SAFETY COACHES ON THE BRIGHTON ROAD.] The inevitable debasement of the specific term “safety,” and its general application at the whim of proprietors, quite irrespective of safety construction, is found beginning in 1821, with the advertisement of Whitchurch, Best & Wilkins, of Brighton, in which, while the public were reminded that the firm were the first to run a coach to London in six hours, returning the same day, stress was laid upon the fact that this quick service had been continued daily for six years without an accident. Experienced coachmen, steady horses, and a stern discouragement of racing had procured this desirable immunity, and so (the advertisement continued) it was hoped the public would not deem the proprietors presumptuous in claiming the privilege of calling the coach, although not a patent, a safety. Alas for these pioneers of quick transit and sticklers for decent conduct on the road! The firm very soon decayed, and Whitchurch, the senior partner, was brought to poverty. To follow the history of the “safety” coaches and the pseudo-“safeties” would be a long business, but it may be said that these specially constructed vehicles did not long continue, and that the average stage-coach passenger took the claims of all very much on trust. To show that he did so we need only quote the anecdote related by “Viator Junior” in the _Sporting Magazine_ of 1828, at the expense of the “Patriot” coach, then newly provided with Cooke’s protection reins:-- “Just as Pickett was starting with his ‘Union’ coach out of Holborn, up comes a pursy old citizen, puffing and blowing like a grampus. “‘Pray, coachman, is this here the Patriotic Life-Preserver Patent Safety Coach?’ “‘Yes, sir,’ says Pickett, not hearing above half his passenger’s question; ‘room behind, sir: jump up, if you please--very late this morning.’ “‘Why, where’s the machinery?’ cries the old one. “‘There, sir,’ replies a passenger (a young Cantab, I suspect), pointing to a heavy trunk of mine that was swung underneath, ‘in that box, sir, that’s where the machinery works.’ “‘Ah!’ quoth the old man, climbing up, quite satisfied: ‘wonderful inventions nowadays, sir. We shall all get safe to Brighton: no chance of an accident by _this_ coach.’” The Brighton Road, as already hinted, was in many ways exceptional. It had exceptionally many Royal associations, reflected vividly enough in the names of its coaches. Among these was, of course, the “Prince Regent,” started in 1813, but preceded by the “Princess Charlotte,” established a year earlier, and followed by the “Regent,” “Royal George,” “Royal Adelaide,” “Royal Clarence,” “Royal Sussex,” “Royal Victoria,” and “Royal York.”