and of the two attempted trials, is contained in the official report of
Major M. M. Macomb of the United States Artillery Corps, which report is
here given in full:--
REPORT
Experiments with working models which were concluded August 8 last
having proved the principles and calculations on which the design of the
Langley aerodrome was based to be correct, the next step was to apply
these principles to the construction of a machine of sufficient size
and power to permit the carrying of a man, who could control the motive
power and guide its flight, thus pointing the way to attaining the final
goal of producing a machine capable of such extensive and precise aerial
flight, under normal atmospheric conditions, as to prove of military or
commercial utility.
Mr C. M. Manly, working under Professor Langley, had, by the summer
of 1903, succeeded in completing an engine-driven machine which under
favourable atmospheric conditions was expected to carry a man for any
time up to half an hour, and to be capable of having its flight directed
and controlled by him.
The supporting surface of the wings was ample, and experiment showed the
engine capable of supplying more than the necessary motive power.
Owing to the necessity of lightness, the weight of the various elements
had to be kept at a minimum, and the factor of safety in construction
was therefore exceedingly small, so that the machine as a whole was
delicate and frail and incapable of sustaining any unusual strain. This
defect was to be corrected in later models by utilising data gathered in
future experiments under varied conditions.
One of the most remarkable results attained was the production of a
gasoline engine furnishing over fifty continuous horse-power for a
weight of 120 lbs.
The aerodrome, as completed and prepared for test, is briefly described
by Professor Langley as 'built of steel, weighing complete about
730 lbs., supported by 1,040 feet of sustaining surface, having two
propellers driven by a gas engine developing continuously over fifty
brake horse-power.'
The appearance of the machine prepared for flight was exceedingly light
and graceful, giving an impression to all observers of being capable of
successful flight.
On October 7 last everything was in readiness, and I witnessed the
attempted trial on that day at Widewater, Va. On the Potomac. The engine
worked well and the machine was launched at about 12.15 p.m. The trial
was unsuccessful because the front guy-post caught in its support on the
launching car and was not released in time to give free flight, as was
intended, but, on the contrary, caused the front of the machine to be
dragged downward, bending the guy-post and making the machine plunge
into the water about fifty yards in front of the house-boat. The machine
was subsequently recovered and brought back to the house-boat. The
engine was uninjured and the frame only slightly damaged, but the four
wings and rudder were practically destroyed by the first plunge and
subsequent towing back to the house-boat.
This accident necessitated the removal of the house-boat to Washington
for the more convenient repair of damages.
On December 8 last, between 4 and 5 p.m., another attempt at a trial was
made, this time at the junction of the Anacostia with the Potomac, just
below Washington Barracks.
On this occasion General Randolph and myself represented the Board of
Ordnance and Fortification. The launching car was released at 4.45 p.m.
being pointed up the Anacostia towards the Navy Yard. My position was
on the tug Bartholdi, about 150 feet from and at right angles to
the direction of proposed flight. The car was set in motion and the
propellers revolved rapidly, the engine working perfectly, but there was
something wrong with the launching. The rear guy-post seemed to drag,
bringing the rudder down on the launching ways, and a crashing, rending
sound, followed by the collapse of the rear wings, showed that the
machine had been wrecked in the launching, just how, it was impossible
for me to see. The fact remains that the rear wings and rudder were
wrecked before the machine was free of the ways. Their collapse deprived
the machine of its support in the rear, and it consequently reared up
in front under the action of the motor, assumed a vertical position,
and then toppled over to the rear, falling into the water a few feet in
front of the boat.
Mr Manly was pulled out of the wreck uninjured and the wrecked
machine--was subsequently placed upon the house-boat, and the whole
brought back to Washington.
From what has been said it will be seen that these unfortunate accidents
have prevented any test of the apparatus in free flight, and the claim
that an engine-driven, man-carrying aerodrome has been constructed lacks
the proof which actual flight alone can give.
Having reached the present stage of advancement in its development, it
would seem highly desirable, before laying down the investigation, to
obtain conclusive proof of the possibility of free flight, not only
because there are excellent reasons to hope for success, but because
it marks the end of a definite step toward the attainment of the final
goal.
Just what further procedure is necessary to secure successful flight
with the large aerodrome has not yet been decided upon. Professor
Langley is understood to have this subject under advisement, and
will doubtless inform the Board of his final conclusions as soon as
practicable.
In the meantime, to avoid any possible misunderstanding, it should be
stated that even after a successful test of the present great aerodrome,
designed to carry a man, we are still far from the ultimate goal, and it
would seem as if years of constant work and study by experts, together
with the expenditure of thousands of dollars, would still be necessary
before we can hope to produce an apparatus of practical utility on these
lines.--Washington, January 6, 1904.
A subsequent report of the Board of ordnance and Fortification to the
Secretary of War embodied the principal points in Major Macomb's report,
but as early as March 3rd, 1904, the Board came to a similar conclusion
to that of the French Ministry of War in respect of Clement Ader's work,
stating that it was not 'prepared to make an additional allotment
at this time for continuing the work.' This decision was in no small
measure due to hostile newspaper criticisms. Langley, in a letter to
the press explaining his attitude, stated that he did not wish to make
public the results of his work till these were certain, in consequence
of which he refused admittance to newspaper representatives, and this
attitude produced a hostility which had effect on the United States
Congress. An offer was made to commercialise the invention, but Langley
steadfastly refused it. Concerning this, Manly remarks that Langley
had 'given his time and his best labours to the world without hope of
remuneration, and he could not bring himself, at his stage of life, to
consent to capitalise his scientific work.'
The final trial of the Langley aerodrome was made on December 8th, 1903;
nine days later, on December 17th, the Wright Brothers made their first
flight in a power-propelled machine, and the conquest of the air was
thus achieved. But for the two accidents that spoilt his trials, the
honour which fell to the Wright Brothers would, beyond doubt, have been
secured by Samuel Pierpoint Langley.
XI. THE WRIGHT BROTHERS
Such information as is given here concerning the Wright Brothers is
derived from the two best sources available, namely, the writings of
Wilbur Wright himself, and a lecture given by Dr Griffith Brewer to
members of the Royal Aeronautical Society. There is no doubt that so
far as actual work in connection with aviation accomplished by the two
brothers is concerned, Wilbur Wright's own statements are the clearest
and best available. Apparently Wilbur was, from the beginning, the
historian of the pair, though he himself would have been the last to
attempt to detract in any way from the fame that his brother's work also
deserves. Throughout all their experiments the two were inseparable,
and their work is one indivisible whole; in fact, in every department
of that work, it is impossible to say where Orville leaves off and where
Wilbur begins.
It is a great story, this of the Wright Brothers, and one worth all the
detail that can be spared it. It begins on the 16th April, 1867, when
Wilbur Wright was born within eight miles of Newcastle, Indiana. Before
Orville's birth on the 19th August, 1871, the Wright family had moved
to Dayton, Ohio, and settled on what is known as the 'West Side' of the
town. Here the brothers grew up, and, when Orville was still a boy in
his teens, he started a printing business, which, as Griffith Brewer
remarks, was only limited by the smallness of his machine and small
quantity of type at his disposal. This machine was in such a state that
pieces of string and wood were incorporated in it by way of repair, but
on it Orville managed to print a boys' paper which gained considerable
popularity in Dayton 'West Side.' Later, at the age of seventeen,
he obtained a more efficient outfit, with which he launched a weekly
newspaper, four pages in size, entitled The West Side News. After three
months' running the paper was increased in size and Wilbur came into
the enterprise as editor, Orville remaining publisher. In 1894 the two
brothers began the publication of a weekly magazine, Snap-Shots, to
which Wilbur contributed a series of articles on local affairs that gave
evidence of the incisive and often sarcastic manner in which he was able
to express himself throughout his life. Dr Griffith Brewer describes him
as a fearless critic, who wrote on matters of local interest in a kindly
but vigorous manner, which did much to maintain the healthy public
municipal life of Dayton.
Editorial and publishing enterprise was succeeded by the formation, just
across the road from the printing works, of the Wright Cycle Company,
where the two brothers launched out as cycle manufacturers with the
'Van Cleve' bicycle, a machine of great local repute for excellence of
construction, and one which won for itself a reputation that lasted long
after it had ceased to be manufactured. The name of the machine was that
of an ancestor of the brothers, Catherine Van Cleve, who was one of the
first settlers at Dayton, landing there from the River Miami on April
1st, 1796, when the country was virgin forest.
It was not until 1896 that the mechanical genius which characterised
the two brothers was turned to the consideration of aeronautics. In that
year they took up the problem thoroughly, studying all the aeronautical
information then in print. Lilienthal's writings formed one basis for
their studies, and the work of Langley assisted in establishing in
them a confidence in the possibility of a solution to the problems of
mechanical flight. In 1909, at the banquet given by the Royal Aero Club
to the Wright Brothers on their return to America, after the series of
demonstration flights carried out by Wilbur Wright on the Continent,
Wilbur paid tribute to the great pioneer work of Stringfellow, whose
studies and achievements influenced his own and Orville's early work. He
pointed out how Stringfellow devised an aeroplane having two propellers
and vertical and horizontal steering, and gave due place to this early
pioneer of mechanical flight.
Neither of the brothers was content with mere study of the work of
others. They collected all the theory available in the books published
up to that time, and then built man-carrying gliders with which to test
the data of Lilienthal and such other authorities as they had consulted.
For two years they conducted outdoor experiments in order to test the
truth or otherwise of what were enunciated as the principles of flight;
after this they turned to laboratory experiments, constructing a wind
tunnel in which they made thousands of tests with models of various
forms of curved planes. From their experiments they tabulated thousands
of readings, which Griffith Brewer remarks as giving results equally
efficient with those of the elaborate tables prepared by learned
institutions.
Wilbur Wright has set down the beginnings of the practical experiments
made by the two brothers very clearly. 'The difficulties,' he says,
'which obstruct the pathway to success in flying machine construction
are of three general classes: (1) Those which relate to the construction
of the sustaining wings; (2) those which relate to the generation and
application of the power required to drive the machine through the air;
(3) those relating to the balancing and steering of the machine after
it is actually in flight. Of these difficulties two are already to
a certain extent solved. Men already know how to construct wings, or
aeroplanes, which, when driven through the air at sufficient speed, will
not only sustain the weight of the wings themselves, but also that of
the engine and the engineer as well. Men also know how to build engines
and' screws of sufficient lightness and power to drive these planes
at sustaining speed. Inability to balance and steer still confronts
students of the flying problem, although nearly ten years have passed
(since Lilienthal's success). When this one feature has been worked out,
the age of flying machines will have arrived, for all other difficulties
are of minor importance.
'The person who merely watches the flight of a bird gathers the
impression that the bird has nothing to think of but the flapping of
its wings. As a matter of fact, this is a very small part of its mental
labour. Even to mention all the things the bird must constantly keep in
mind in order to fly securely through the air would take a considerable
time. If I take a piece of paper and, after placing it parallel with
the ground, quickly let it fall, it will not settle steadily down as
a staid, sensible piece of paper ought to do, but it insists on
contravening every recognised rule of decorum, turning over and darting
hither and thither in the most erratic manner, much after the style of
an untrained horse. Yet this is the style of steed that men must learn
to manage before flying can become an everyday sport. The bird has
learned this art of equilibrium, and learned it so thoroughly that its
skill is not apparent to our sight. We only learn to appreciate it when
we can imitate it.
'Now, there are only two ways of learning to ride a fractious horse: one
is to get on him and learn by actual practice how each motion and trick
may be best met; the other is to sit on a fence and watch the beast
awhile, and then retire to the house and at leisure figure out the best
way of overcoming his jumps and kicks. The latter system is the safer,
but the former, on the whole, turns out the larger proportion of good
riders. It is very much the same in learning to ride a flying machine;
if you are looking for perfect safety you will do well to sit on a fence
and watch the birds, but if you really wish to learn you must mount
a machine and become acquainted with its tricks by actual trial. The
balancing of a gliding or flying machine is very simple in theory. It
merely consists in causing the centre of pressure to coincide with the
centre of gravity.'
These comments are taken from a lecture delivered by Wilbur Wright
before the Western Society of Engineers in September of 1901, under the
presidency of Octave Chanute. In that lecture Wilbur detailed the way
in which he and his brother came to interest themselves in aeronautical
problems and constructed their first glider. He speaks of his own
notice of the death of Lilienthal in 1896, and of the way in which this
fatality roused him to an active interest in aeronautical problems,
which was stimulated by reading Professor Marey's Animal Mechanism, not
for the first time. 'From this I was led to read more modern works, and
as my brother soon became equally interested with myself, we soon passed
from the reading to the thinking, and finally to the working stage. It
seemed to us that the main reason why the problem had remained so long
unsolved was that no one had been able to obtain any adequate practice.
We figured that Lilienthal in five years of time had spent only about
five hours in actual gliding through the air. The wonder was not that he
had done so little, but that he had accomplished so much. It would not
be considered at all safe for a bicycle rider to attempt to ride through
a crowded city street after only five hours' practice, spread out in
bits of ten seconds each over a period of five years; yet Lilienthal
with this brief practice was remarkably successful in meeting the
fluctuations and eddies of wind-gusts. We thought that if some method
could be found by which it would be possible to practice by the hour
instead of by the second there would be hope of advancing the solution
of a very difficult problem. It seemed feasible to do this by building a
machine which would be sustained at a speed of eighteen miles per hour,
and then finding a locality where winds of this velocity were common.
With these conditions a rope attached to the machine to keep it from
floating backward would answer very nearly the same purpose as a
propeller driven by a motor, and it would be possible to practice by the
hour, and without any serious danger, as it would not be necessary to
rise far from the ground, and the machine would not have any forward
motion at all. We found, according to the accepted tables of air
pressure on curved surfaces, that a machine spreading 200 square feet of
wing surface would be sufficient for our purpose, and that places would
easily be found along the Atlantic coast where winds of sixteen to
twenty-five miles were not at all uncommon. When the winds were low it
was our plan to glide from the tops of sandhills, and when they were
sufficiently strong to use a rope for our motor and fly over one spot.
Our next work was to draw up the plans for a suitable machine. After
much study we finally concluded that tails were a source of trouble
rather than of assistance, and therefore we decided to dispense with
them altogether. It seemed reasonable that if the body of the operator
could be placed in a horizontal position instead of the upright, as in
the machines of Lilienthal, Pilcher, and Chanute, the wind resistance
could be very materially reduced, since only one square foot instead of
five would be exposed. As a full half horse-power would be saved by this
change, we arranged to try at least the horizontal position. Then the
method of control used by Lilienthal, which consisted in shifting the
body, did not seem quite as quick or effective as the case required; so,
after long study, we contrived a system consisting of two large surfaces
on the Chanute double-deck plan, and a smaller surface placed a short
distance in front of the main surfaces in such a position that the
action of the wind upon it would counterbalance the effect of the travel
of the centre of pressure on the main surfaces. Thus changes in the
direction and velocity of the wind would have little disturbing effect,
and the operator would be required to attend only to the steering of the
machine, which was to be effected by curving the forward surface up or
down. The lateral equilibrium and the steering to right or left was
to be attained by a peculiar torsion of the main surfaces which was
equivalent to presenting one end of the wings at a greater angle than
the other. In the main frame a few changes were also made in the details
of construction and trussing employed by Mr Chanute. The most important
of these were: (1) The moving of the forward main crosspiece of the
frame to the extreme front edge; (2) the encasing in the cloth of all
crosspieces and ribs of the surfaces; (3) a rearrangement of the wires
used in trussing the two surfaces together, which rendered it possible
to tighten all the wires by simply shortening two of them.'
The brothers intended originally to get 200 square feet of supporting
surface for their glider, but the impossibility of obtaining suitable
material compelled them to reduce the area to 165 square feet, which, by
the Lilienthal tables, admitted of support in a wind of about twenty-one
miles an hour at an angle of three degrees. With this glider they went
in the summer of I 1900 to the little settlement of Kitty Hawk, North
Carolina, situated on the strip of land dividing Albemarle Sound from
the Atlantic. Here they reckoned on obtaining steady wind, and here, on
the day that they completed the machine, they took it out for trial as
a kite with the wind blowing at between twenty-five and thirty miles
an hour. They found that in order to support a man on it the glider
required an angle nearer twenty degrees than three, and even with the
wind at thirty miles an hour they could not get down to the planned
angle of three degrees. 'Later, when the wind was too light to support
the machine with a man on it, they tested it as a kite, working the
rudders by cords. Although they obtained satisfactory results in this
way they realised fully that actual gliding experience was necessary
before the tests could be considered practical.
A series of actual measurements of lift and drift of the machine gave
astonishing results. 'It appeared that the total horizontal pull of the
machine, while sustaining a weight of 52 lbs., was only 8.5 lbs., which
was less than had been previously estimated for head resistance of the
framing alone. Making allowance for the weight carried, it appeared that
the head resistance of the framing was but little more than fifty per
cent of the amount which Mr Chanute had estimated as the head resistance
of the framing of his machine. On the other hand, it appeared sadly
deficient in lifting power as compared with the calculated lift of
curved surfaces of its size... we decided to arrange our machine for the
following year so that the depth of curvature of its surfaces could be
varied at will, and its covering air-proofed.'
After these experiments the brothers decided to turn to practical
gliding, for which they moved four miles to the south, to the Kill Devil
sandhills, the principal of which is slightly over a hundred feet
in height, with an inclination of nearly ten degrees on its main
north-western slope. On the day after their arrival they made about a
dozen glides, in which, although the landings were made at a speed of
more than twenty miles an hour, no injury was sustained either by the
machine or by the operator.
'The slope of the hill was 9.5 degrees, or a drop of one foot in six. We
found that after attaining a speed of about twenty-five to thirty miles
with reference to the wind, or ten to fifteen miles over the ground, the
machine not only glided parallel to the slope of the hill, but greatly
increased its speed, thus indicating its ability to glide on a somewhat
less angle than 9.5 degrees, when we should feel it safe to rise higher
from the surface. The control of the machine proved even better than we
had dared to expect, responding quickly to the slightest motion of the
rudder. With these glides our experiments for the year 1900 closed.
Although the hours and hours of practice we had hoped to obtain finally
dwindled down to about two minutes, we were very much pleased with the
general results of the trip, for, setting out as we did with almost
revolutionary theories on many points and an entirely untried form of
machine, we considered it quite a point to be able to return without
having our pet theories completely knocked on the head by the hard logic
of experience, and our own brains dashed out in the bargain. Everything
seemed to us to confirm the correctness of our original opinions:
(1) That practice is the key to the secret of flying; (2) that it
is practicable to assume the horizontal position; (3) that a smaller
surface set at a negative angle in front of the main bearing surfaces,
or wings, will largely counteract the effect of the fore and aft travel
of the centre of pressure; (4) that steering up and down can be attained
with a rudder without moving the position of the operator's body; (5)
that twisting the wings so as to present their ends to the wind at
different angles is a more prompt and efficient way of maintaining
lateral equilibrium than shifting the body of the operator.'
For the gliding experiments of 1901 it was decided to retain the form of
the 1900 glider, but to increase the area to 308 square feet, which, the
brothers calculated, would support itself and its operator in a wind
of seventeen miles an hour with an angle of incidence of three degrees.
Camp was formed at Kitty Hawk in the middle of July, and on July 27th
the machine was completed and tried for the first time in a wind of
about fourteen miles an hour. The first attempt resulted in landing
after a glide of only a few yards, indicating that the centre of gravity
was too far in front of the centre of pressure. By shifting his position
farther and farther back the operator finally achieved an undulating
flight of a little over 300 feet, but to obtain this success he had to
use full power of the rudder to prevent both stalling and nose-diving.
With the 1900 machine one-fourth of the rudder action had been necessary
for far better control.
Practically all glides gave the same result, and in one the machine rose
higher and higher until it lost all headway. 'This was the position from
which Lilienthal had always found difficulty in extricating himself,
as his machine then, in spite of his greatest exertions, manifested a
tendency to dive downward almost vertically and strike the ground head
on with frightful velocity. In this case a warning cry from the ground
caused the operator to turn the rudder to its full extent and also to
move his body slightly forward. The machine then settled slowly to the
ground, maintaining its horizontal position almost perfectly, and landed
without any injury at all. This was very encouraging, as it showed that
one of the very greatest dangers in machines with horizontal tails had
been overcome by the use of the front rudder. Several glides later the
same experience was repeated with the same result. In the latter case
the machine had even commenced to move backward, but was nevertheless
brought safely to the ground in a horizontal position. On the whole this
day's experiments were encouraging, for while the action of the rudder
did not seem at all like that of our 1900 machine, yet we had escaped
without difficulty from positions which had proved very dangerous
to preceding experimenters, and after less than one minute's actual
practice had made a glide of more than 300 feet, at an angle of
descent of ten degrees, and with a machine nearly twice as large as had
previously been considered safe. The trouble with its control, which
has been mentioned, we believed could be corrected when we should have
located its cause.'
It was finally ascertained that the defect could be remedied by
trussing down the ribs of the whole machine so as to reduce the depth of
curvature. When this had been done gliding was resumed, and after a few
trials glides of 366 and 389 feet were made with prompt response on the
part of the machine, even to small movements of the rudder. The rest of
the story of the gliding experiments of 1901 cannot be better told than
in Wilbur Wright's own words, as uttered by him in the lecture from
which the foregoing excerpts have been made.
'The machine, with its new curvature, never failed to respond promptly
to even small movements of the rudder. The operator could cause it to
almost skim the ground, following the undulations of its surface, or he
could cause it to sail out almost on a level with the starting point,
and, passing high above the foot of the hill, gradually settle down to
the ground. The wind on this day was blowing eleven to fourteen miles
per hour. The next day, the conditions being favourable, the machine
was again taken out for trial. This time the velocity of the wind was
eighteen to twenty-two miles per hour. At first we felt some doubt as to
the safety of attempting free flight in so strong a wind, with a machine
of over 300 square feet and a practice of less than five minutes spent
in actual flight. But after several preliminary experiments we decided
to try a glide. The control of the machine seemed so good that we then
felt no apprehension in sailing boldly forth. And thereafter we made
glide after glide, sometimes following the ground closely and sometimes
sailing high in the air. Mr Chanute had his camera with him and took
pictures of some of these glides, several of which are among those
shown.
'We made glides on subsequent days, whenever the conditions were
favourable. The highest wind thus experimented in was a little over
twelve metres per second--nearly twenty-seven miles per hour.
It had been our intention when building the machine to do the larger
part of the experimenting in the following manner:--When the wind blew
seventeen miles an hour, or more, we would attach a rope to the machine
and let it rise as a kite with the operator upon it. When it should
reach a proper height the operator would cast off the rope and glide
down to the ground just as from the top of a hill. In this way we would
be saved the trouble of carrying the machine uphill after each glide,
and could make at least ten glides in the time required for one in the
other way. But when we came to try it, we found that a wind of seventeen
miles, as measured by Richards' anemometer, instead of sustaining the
machine with its operator, a total weight of 240 lbs., at an angle of
incidence of three degrees, in reality would not sustain the machine
alone--100 lbs.--at this angle. Its lifting capacity seemed scarcely one
third of the calculated amount. In order to make sure that this was not
due to the porosity of the cloth, we constructed two small experimental
surfaces of equal size, one of which was air-proofed and the other left
in its natural state; but we could detect no difference in their lifting
powers. For a time we were led to suspect that the lift of curved
surfaces very little exceeded that of planes of the same size, but
further investigation and experiment led to the opinion that (1) the
anemometer used by us over-recorded the true velocity of the wind by
nearly 15 per cent; (2) that the well-known Smeaton co-efficient of.005
V squared for the wind pressure at 90 degrees is probably too great by
at least 20 per cent; (3) that Lilienthal's estimate that the pressure
on a curved surface having an angle of incidence of 3 degrees equals.545
of the pressure at go degrees is too large, being nearly 50 per
cent greater than very recent experiments of our own with a pressure
testing-machine indicate; (4) that the superposition of the surfaces
somewhat reduced the lift per square foot, as compared with a single
surface of equal area.
'In gliding experiments, however, the amount of lift is of less relative
importance than the ratio of lift to drift, as this alone decides
the angle of gliding descent. In a plane the pressure is always
perpendicular to the surface, and the ratio of lift to drift is
therefore the same as that of the cosine to the sine of the angle of
incidence. But in curved surfaces a very remarkable situation is found.
The pressure, instead of being uniformly normal to the chord of the
arc, is usually inclined considerably in front of the perpendicular.
The result is that the lift is greater and the drift less than if
the pressure were normal. Lilienthal was the first to discover this
exceedingly important fact, which is fully set forth in his book, Bird
Flight the Basis of the Flying Art, but owing to some errors in the
methods he used in making measurements, question was raised by other
investigators not only as to the accuracy of his figures, but even as
to the existence of any tangential force at all. Our experiments confirm
the existence of this force, though our measurements differ considerably
from those of Lilienthal. While at Kitty Hawk we spent much time in
measuring the horizontal pressure on our unloaded machine at various
angles of incidence. We found that at 13 degrees the horizontal pressure
was about 23 lbs. This included not only the drift proper, or horizontal
component of the pressure on the side of the surface, but also the head
resistance of the framing as well. The weight of the machine at the time
of this test was about 108 lbs. Now, if the pressure had been normal to
the chord of the surface, the drift proper would have been to the lift
(108 lbs.) as the sine of 13 degrees is to the cosine of 13 degrees,
or.22 X 108/.97 = 24+ lbs.; but this slightly exceeds the total pull
of 23 pounds on our scales. Therefore it is evident that the average
pressure on the surface, instead of being normal to the chord, was so
far inclined toward the front that all the head resistance of framing
and wires used in the construction was more than overcome. In a wind of
fourteen miles per hour resistance is by no means a negligible factor,
so that tangential is evidently a force of considerable value. In a
higher wind, which sustained the machine at an angle of 10 degrees the
pull on the scales was 18 lbs. With the pressure normal to the chord the
drift proper would have been 17 X 98/.98. The travel of the centre of
pressure made it necessary to put sand on the front rudder to bring
the centres of gravity and pressure into coincidence, consequently the
weight of the machine varied from 98 lbs. to 108 lbs. in the different
tests= 17 lbs., so that, although the higher wind velocity must have
caused an increase in the head resistance, the tangential force still
came within 1 lb. of overcoming it. After our return from Kitty Hawk
we began a series of experiments to accurately determine the amount and
direction of the pressure produced on curved surfaces when acted upon by
winds at the various angles from zero to 90 degrees. These experiments
are not yet concluded, but in general they support Lilienthal in the
claim that the curves give pressures more favourable in amount and
direction than planes; but we find marked differences in the exact
values, especially at angles below 10 degrees. We were unable to obtain
direct measurements of the horizontal pressures of the machine with
the operator on board, but by comparing the distance travelled with the
vertical fall, it was easily calculated that at a speed of 24 miles per
hour the total horizontal resistances of our machine, when bearing
the operator, amounted to 40 lbs., which is equivalent to about 2 1/3
horse-power. It must not be supposed, however, that a motor developing
this power would be sufficient to drive a man-bearing machine. The extra
weight of the motor would require either a larger machine, higher speed,
or a greater angle of incidence in order to support it, and therefore
more power. It is probable, however, that an engine of 6 horse-power,
weighing 100 lbs. would answer the purpose. Such an engine is entirely
practicable. Indeed, working motors of one-half this weight per
horse-power (9 lbs. per horse-power) have been constructed by several
different builders. Increasing the speed of our machine from 24 to 33
miles per hour reduced the total horizontal pressure from 40 to about 35
lbs. This was quite an advantage in gliding, as it made it possible to
sail about 15 per cent farther with a given drop. However, it would
be of little or no advantage in reducing the size of the motor in
a power-driven machine, because the lessened thrust would be
counterbalanced by the increased speed per minute. Some years ago
Professor Langley called attention to the great economy of thrust which
might be obtained by using very high speeds, and from this many were led
to suppose that high speed was essential to success in a motor-driven
machine. But the economy to which Professor Langley called attention was
in foot pounds per mile of travel, not in foot pounds per minute. It
is the foot pounds per minute that fixes the size of the motor. The
probability is that the first flying machines will have a relatively low
speed, perhaps not much exceeding 20 miles per hour, but the problem of
increasing the speed will be much simpler in some respects than that of
increasing the speed of a steamboat; for, whereas in the latter case the
size of the engine must increase as the cube of the speed, in the flying
machine, until extremely high speeds are reached, the capacity of the
motor increases in less than simple ratio; and there is even a decrease
in the fuel per mile of travel. In other words, to double the speed of
a steamship (and the same is true of the balloon type of airship) eight
times the engine and boiler capacity would be required, and four times
the fuel consumption per mile of travel: while a flying machine would
require engines of less than double the size, and there would be an
actual decrease in the fuel consumption per mile of travel. But looking
at the matter conversely, the great disadvantage of the flying machine
is apparent; for in the latter no flight at all is possible unless the
proportion of horse-power to flying capacity is very high; but on
the other hand a steamship is a mechanical success if its ratio of
horse-power to tonnage is insignificant. A flying machine that would fly
at a speed of 50 miles per hour with engines of 1,000 horse-power would
not be upheld by its wings at all at a speed of less than 25 miles
an hour, and nothing less than 500 horse-power could drive it at this
speed. But a boat which could make 40 miles an hour with engines of
1,000 horse-power would still move 4 miles an hour even if the engines
were reduced to 1 horse-power. The problems of land and water travel
were solved in the nineteenth century, because it was possible to begin
with small achievements, and gradually work up to our present success.
The flying problem was left over to the twentieth century, because in
this case the art must be highly developed before any flight of any
considerable duration at all can be obtained.
'However, there is another way of flying which requires no artificial
motor, and many workers believe that success will come first by this
road. I refer to the soaring flight, by which the machine is permanently
sustained in the air by the same means that are employed by soaring
birds. They spread their wings to the wind, and sail by the hour,
with no perceptible exertion beyond that required to balance and steer
themselves. What sustains them is not definitely known, though it is
almost certain that it is a rising current of air. But whether it be a
rising current or something else, it is as well able to support a
flying machine as a bird, if man once learns the art of utilising it.
In gliding experiments it has long been known that the rate of vertical
descent is very much retarded, and the duration of the flight greatly
prolonged, if a strong wind blows UP the face of the hill parallel
to its surface. Our machine, when gliding in still air, has a rate of
vertical descent of nearly 6 feet per second, while in a wind blowing
26 miles per hour up a steep hill we made glides in which the rate of
descent was less than 2 feet per second. And during the larger part of
this time, while the machine remained exactly in the rising current,
THERE WAS NO DESCENT AT ALL, BUT EVEN A SLIGHT RISE. If the operator
had had sufficient skill to keep himself from passing beyond the rising
current he would have been sustained indefinitely at a higher point than
that from which he started. The illustration shows one of these very
slow glides at a time when the machine was practically at a standstill.
The failure to advance more rapidly caused the photographer some trouble
in aiming, as you will perceive. In looking at this picture you will
readily understand that the excitement of gliding experiments does
not entirely cease with the breaking up of camp. In the photographic
dark-room at home we pass moments of as thrilling interest as any in
the field, when the image begins to appear on the plate and it is yet an
open question whether we have a picture of a flying machine or merely a
patch of open sky. These slow glides in rising current probably hold out
greater hope of extensive practice than any other method within man's
reach, but they have the disadvantage of requiring rather strong winds
or very large supporting surfaces. However, when gliding operators
have attained greater skill, they can with comparative safety maintain
themselves in the air for hours at a time in this way, and thus by
constant practice so increase their knowledge and skill that they can
rise into the higher air and search out the currents which enable the
soaring birds to transport themselves to any desired point by first
rising in a circle and then sailing off at a descending angle. This
illustration shows the machine, alone, flying in a wind of 35 miles per
hour on the face of a steep hill, 100 feet high. It will be seen
that the machine not only pulls upward, but also pulls forward in the
direction from which the wind blows, thus overcoming both gravity and
the speed of the wind. We tried the same experiment with a man on it,
but found danger that the forward pull would become so strong, that the
men holding the ropes would be dragged from their insecure foothold on
the slope of the hill. So this form of experimenting was discontinued
after four or five minutes' trial.
'In looking over our experiments of the past two years, with models and
full-size machines, the following points stand out with clearness:--
'1. That the lifting power of a large machine, held stationary in a wind
at a small distance from the earth, is much less than the Lilienthal
table and our own laboratory experiments would lead us to expect. When
the machine is moved through the air, as in gliding, the discrepancy
seems much less marked.
'2. That the ratio of drift to lift in well-shaped surfaces is less at
angles of incidence of 5 degrees to 12 degrees than at an angle of 3
degrees.
'3. That in arched surfaces the centre of pressure at 90 degrees is near
the centre of the surface, but moves slowly forward as the angle becomes
less, till a critical angle varying with the shape and depth of the
curve is reached, after which it moves rapidly toward the rear till the
angle of no lift is found.
'4. That with similar conditions large surfaces may be controlled with
not much greater difficulty than small ones, if the control is effected
by manipulation of the surfaces themselves, rather than by a movement of
the body of the operator.
'5. That the head resistances of the framing can be brought to a point
much below that usually estimated as necessary.
'6. That tails, both vertical and horizontal, may with safety be
eliminated in gliding and other flying experiments.
'7. That a horizontal position of the operator's body may be assumed
without excessive danger, and thus the head resistance reduced to about
one-fifth that of the upright position.
'8. That a pair of superposed, or tandem surfaces, has less lift in
proportion to drift than either surface separately, even after making
allowance for weight and head resistance of the connections.'
Thus, to the end of the 1901 experiments, Wilbur Wright provided a
fairly full account of what was accomplished; the record shows an amount
of patient and painstaking work almost beyond belief--it was no question
of making a plane and launching it, but a business of trial and error,
investigation and tabulation of detail, and the rejection time after
time of previously accepted theories, till the brothers must have felt
the the solid earth was no longer secure, at times. Though it was Wilbur
who set down this and other records of the work done, yet the actual
work was so much Orville's as his brother's that no analysis could
separate any set of experiments and say that Orville did this and Wilbur
that--the two were inseparable. On this point Griffith Brewer remarked
that 'in the arguments, if one brother took one view, the other brother
took the opposite view as a matter of course, and the subject was
thrashed to pieces until a mutually acceptable result remained. I have
often been asked since these pioneer days, "Tell me, Brewer, who was
really the originator of those two?" In reply, I used first to say,
"I think it was mostly Wilbur," and later, when I came to know Orville
better, I said, "The thing could not have been without Orville." Now,
when asked, I have to say, "I don't know," and I feel the more I think
of it that it was only the wonderful combination of these two brothers,
who devoted their lives together or this common object, that made the
discovery of the art of flying possible.'
Beyond the 1901 experiments in gliding, the record grows more scrappy,
less detailed. It appears that once power-driven flight had been
achieved, the brothers were not so willing to talk as before;
considering the amount of work that they put in, there could have been
little time for verbal description of that work--as already remarked,
their tables still stand for the designer and experimenter. The end of
the 1901 experiments left both brothers somewhat discouraged, though
they had accomplished more than any others. 'Having set out with
absolute faith in the existing scientific data, we ere driven to doubt
one thing after another, finally, after two years of experiment, we cast
it all aside, and decided to rely entirely on our own investigations.
Truth and error were everywhere so intimately mixed as to be
indistinguishable.... We had taken up aeronautics as a sport. We
reluctantly entered upon the scientific side of it.'
Yet, driven thus to the more serious aspect of the work, they found in
the step its own reward, for the work of itself drew them on and on, to
the construction of measuring machines for the avoidance of error, and
to the making of series after series of measurements, concerning which
Wilbur wrote in 1908 (in the Century Magazine) that 'after making
preliminary measurements on a great number of different shaped surfaces,
to secure a general understanding of the subject, we began systematic
measurements of standard surfaces, so varied in design as to bring
out the underlying causes of differences noted in their pressures.
Measurements were tabulated on nearly fifty of these at all angles from
zero to 45 degrees, at intervals of 2 1/2 degrees. Measurements were
also secured showing the effects on each other when surfaces are
superposed, or when they follow one another.
'Some strange results were obtained. One surface, with a heavy roll at
the front edge, showed the same lift for all angles from 7 1/2 to 45
degrees. This seemed so anomalous that we were almost ready to doubt our
own measurements, when a simple test was suggested. A weather vane, with
two planes attached to the pointer at an angle of 80 degrees with
each other, was made. According to our table, such a vane would be in
unstable equilibrium when pointing directly into the wind, for if by
chance the wind should happen to strike one plane at 39 degrees and the
other at 41 degrees, the plane with the smaller angle would have the
greater pressure and the pointer would be turned still farther out
of the course of the wind until the two vanes again secured equal
pressures, which would be at approximately 30 and 50 degrees. But the
vane performed in this very manner. Further corroboration of the tables
was obtained in experiments with the new glider at Kill Devil Hill the
next season.
'In September and October, 1902 nearly 1,000 gliding flights were made,
several of which covered distances of over 600 feet. Some, made against
a wind of 36 miles an hour, gave proof of the effectiveness of the
devices for control. With this machine, in the autumn of 1903, we made
a number of flights in which we remained in the air for over a minute,
often soaring for a considerable time in one spot, without any descent
at all. Little wonder that our unscientific assistant should think the
only thing needed to keep it indefinitely in the air would be a coat of
feathers to make it light!'
It was at the conclusion of these experiments of 1903 that the brothers
concluded they had obtained sufficient data from their thousands of
glides and multitude of calculations to permit of their constructing
and making trial of a power-driven machine. The first designs got out
provided for a total weight of 600 lbs., which was to include the weight
of the motor and the pilot; but on completion it was found that there
was a surplus of power from the motor, and thus they had 150 lbs. weight
to allow for strengthening wings and other parts.
They came up against the problem to which Riach has since devoted so
much attention, that of propeller design. 'We had thought of getting the
theory of the screw-propeller from the marine engineers, and then, by
applying our table of air-pressures to their formulae, of designing
air-propellers suitable for our uses. But, so far as we could learn, the
marine engineers possessed only empirical formulae, and the exact action
of the screw propeller, after a century of use, was still very obscure.
As we were not in a position to undertake a long series of practical
experiments to discover a propeller suitable for our machine, it seemed
necessary to obtain such a thorough understanding of the theory of its
reactions as would enable us to design them from calculation alone.
What at first seemed a simple problem became more complex the longer we
studied it. With the machine moving forward, the air flying backward,
the propellers turning sidewise, and nothing standing still, it seemed
impossible to find a starting point from which to trace the various
simultaneous reactions. Contemplation of it was confusing. After long
arguments we often found ourselves in the ludicrous position of each
having been converted to the other's side, with no more agreement than
when the discussion began.
'It was not till several months had passed, and every phase of the
problem had been thrashed over and over, that the various reactions
began to untangle themselves. When once a clear understanding had been
obtained there was no difficulty in designing a suitable propeller, with
proper diameter, pitch, and area of blade, to meet the requirements of
the flier. High efficiency in a screw-propeller is not dependent upon
any particular or peculiar shape, and there is no such thing as a "best"
screw. A propeller giving a high dynamic efficiency when used upon one
machine may be almost worthless when used upon another. The propeller
should in every case be designed to meet the particular conditions of
the machine to which it is to be applied. Our first propellers, built
entirely from calculation, gave in useful work 66 per cent of the power
expended. This was about one-third more than had been secured by Maxim
or Langley.'
Langley had made his last attempt with the 'aerodrome,' and his splendid
failure but a few days before the brothers made their first attempt at
power-driven aeroplane flight. On December 17th, 1903, the machine was
taken out; in addition to Wilbur and Orville Wright, there were present
five spectators: Mr A. D. Etheridge, of the Kill Devil life-saving
station; Mr W. S.Dough, Mr W. C. Brinkley, of Manteo; Mr John Ward, of
Naghead, and Mr John T. Daniels.[*] A general invitation had been given
to practically all the residents in the vicinity, but the Kill Devil
district is a cold area in December, and history had recorded so many
experiments in which machines had failed to leave the ground that
between temperature and scepticism only these five risked a waste of
their time.
[*] This list is as given by Wilbur Wright himself.
And these five were in at the greatest conquest man had made since James
Watt evolved the steam engine--perhaps even a greater conquest than that
of Watt. Four flights in all were made; the first lasted only twelve
seconds, 'the first in the history of the world in which a machine
carrying a man had raised itself into the air by its own power in free
flight, had sailed forward on a level course without reduction of
speed, and had finally landed without being wrecked,' said Wilbur
Wright concerning the achievement.[*] The next two flights were slightly
longer, and the fourth and last of the day was one second short of the
complete minute; it was made into the teeth of a 20 mile an hour wind,
and the distance travelled was 852 feet.
[*] Century Magazine, September, 1908.
This bald statement of the day's doings is as Wilbur Wright himself
has given it, and there is in truth nothing more to say; no amount of
statement could add to the importance of the achievement, and no more
than the bare record is necessary. The faith that had inspired the long
roll of pioneers, from da Vinci onward, was justified at last.
Having made their conquest, the brothers took the machine back to camp,
and, as they thought, placed it in safety. Talking with the little group
of spectators about the flights, they forgot about the machine, and then
a sudden gust of wind struck it. Seeing that it was being overturned,
all made a rush toward it to save it, and Mr Daniels, a man of large
proportions, was in some way lifted off his feet, falling between the
planes. The machine overturned fully, and Daniels was shaken like a die
in a cup as the wind rolled the machine over and over--he came out at
the end of his experience with a series of bad bruises, and no more, but
the damage done to the machine by the accident was sufficient to render
it useless for further experiment that season.
A new machine, stronger and heavier, was constructed by the brothers,
and in the spring of 1904 they began experiments again at Sims
Station, eight miles to the east of Dayton, their home town. Press
representatives were invited for the first trial, and about a dozen
came--the whole gathering did not number more than fifty people. 'When
preparations had been concluded,' Wilbur Wright wrote of this trial, 'a
wind of only three or four miles an hour was blowing--insufficient for
starting on so short a track--but since many had come a long way to
see the machine in action, an attempt was made. To add to the other
difficulty, the engine refused to work properly. The machine, after
running the length of the track, slid off the end without rising into
the air at all. Several of the newspaper men returned next day but were
again disappointed. The engine performed badly, and after a glide of
only sixty feet the machine again came to the ground. Further trial was
postponed till the motor could be put in better running condition. The
reporters had now, no doubt, lost confidence in the machine, though
their reports, in kindness, concealed it. Later, when they heard that
we were making flights of several minutes' duration, knowing that longer
flights had been made with airships, and not knowing any essential
difference between airships and flying machines, they were but little
interested.
'We had not been flying long in 1904 before we found that the problem of
equilibrium had not as yet been entirely solved. Sometimes, in making
a circle, the machine would turn over sidewise despite anything the
operator could do, although, under the same conditions in ordinary
straight flight it could have been righted in an instant. In one flight,
in 1905, while circling round a honey locust-tree at a height of about
50 feet, the machine suddenly began to turn up on one wing, and took a
course toward the tree. The operator, not relishing the idea of landing
in a thorn tree, attempted to reach the ground. The left wing, however,
struck the tree at a height of 10 or 12 feet from the ground and carried
away several branches; but the flight, which had already covered a
distance of six miles, was continued to the starting point.
'The causes of these troubles--too technical for explanation here--were
not entirely overcome till the end of September, 1905. The flights then
rapidly increased in length, till experiments were discontinued after
October 5 on account of the number of people attracted to the field.
Although made on a ground open on every side, and bordered on two sides
by much-travelled thoroughfares, with electric cars passing every hour,
and seen by all the people living in the neighbourhood for miles around,
and by several hundred others, yet these flights have been made by some
newspapers the subject of a great "mystery."'
Viewing their work from the financial side, the two brothers incurred
but little expense in the earlier gliding experiments, and, indeed,
viewed these only as recreation, limiting their expenditure to that
which two men might spend on any hobby. When they had once achieved
successful power-driven flight, they saw the possibilities of their
work, and abandoned such other business as had engaged their energies,
sinking all their capital in the development of a practical flying
machine. Having, in 1905, improved their designs to such an extent that
they could consider their machine a practical aeroplane, they devoted
the years 1906 and 1907 to business negotiations and to the construction
of new machines, resuming flying experiments in May of 1908 in order to
test the ability of their machine to meet the requirements of a contract
they had made with the United States Government, which required an
aeroplane capable of carrying two men, together with sufficient fuel
supplies for a flight of 125 miles at 40 miles per hour. Practically
similar to the machine used in the experiments of 1905, the contract
aeroplane was fitted with a larger motor, and provision was made for
seating a passenger and also for allowing of the operator assuming a
sitting position, instead of lying prone.
Before leaving the work of the brothers to consider contemporary events,
it may be noted that they claimed--with justice--that they were first to
construct wings adjustable to different angles of incidence on the right
and left side in order to control the balance of an aeroplane; the
first to attain lateral balance by adjusting wing-tips to respectively
different angles of incidence on the right and left sides, and the first
to use a vertical vane in combination with wing-tips, adjustable to
respectively different angles of incidence, in balancing and steering
an aeroplane. They were first, too, to use a movable vertical tail, in
combination with wings adjustable to different angles of incidence, in
controlling the balance and direction of an aeroplane.[*]
[*]Aeronautical Journal, No. 79.
A certain Henry M. Weaver, who went to see the work of the brothers,
writing in a letter which was subsequently read before the Aero Club de
France records that he had a talk in 1905 with the farmer who rented the
field in which the Wrights made their flights.' On October 5th (1905) he
was cutting corn in the next field east, which is higher ground. When
he noticed the aeroplane had started on its flight he remarked to his
helper: "Well, the boys are at it again," and kept on cutting corn, at
the same time keeping an eye on the great white form rushing about its
course. "I just kept on shocking corn," he continued, "until I got down
to the fence, and the durned thing was still going round. I thought it
would never stop."'
He was right. The brothers started it, and it will never stop.
Mr Weaver also notes briefly the construction of the 1905 Wright flier.
'The frame was made of larch wood-from tip to tip of the wings the
dimension was 40 feet. The gasoline motor--a special construction
made by them--much the same, though, as the motor on the Pope-Toledo
automobile--was of from 12 to 15 horse-power. The motor weighed 240 lbs.
The frame was covered with ordinary muslin of good quality. No attempt
was made to lighten the machine; they simply built it strong enough
to stand the shocks. The structure stood on skids or runners, like a
sleigh. These held the frame high enough from the ground in alighting
to protect the blades of the propeller. Complete with motor, the machine
weighed 925 lbs.
XII. THE FIRST YEARS OF CONQUEST
It is no derogation of the work accomplished by the Wright Brothers to
say that they won the honour of the first power-propelled flights in
a heavier-than-air machine only by a short period. In Europe, and
especially in France, independent experiment was being conducted by
Ferber, by Santos-Dumont, and others, while in England Cody was not far
behind the other giants of those days. The history of the early years
of controlled power flights is a tangle of half-records; there were no
chroniclers, only workers, and much of what was done goes unrecorded
perforce, since it was not set down at the time.
Before passing to survey of those early years, let it be set down that
in 1907, when the Wright Brothers had proved the practicability of their
machines, negotiations were entered into between the brothers and
the British War office. On April 12th 1907, the apostle of military
stagnation, Haldane, then War Minister, put an end to the negotiations
by declaring that 'the War office is not disposed to enter into
relations at present with any manufacturer of aeroplanes' The state
of the British air service in 1914 at the outbreak of hostilities, is
eloquent regarding the pursuance of the policy which Haldane initiated.
'If I talked a lot,' said Wilbur Wright once, 'I should be like the
parrot, which is the bird that speaks most and flies least.' That
attitude is emblematic of the majority of the early fliers, and because
of it the record of their achievements is incomplete to-day. Ferber,
for instance, has left little from which to state what he did, and that
little is scattered through various periodicals, scrappily enough. A
French army officer, Captain Ferber was experimenting with monoplane
and biplane gliders at the beginning of the century-his work was
contemporary with that of the Wrights. He corresponded both with Chanute
and with the Wrights, and in the end he was commissioned by the
French Ministry of War to undertake the journey to America in order
to negotiate with the Wright Brothers concerning French rights in the
patents they had acquired, and to study their work at first hand.
Ferber's experiments in gliding began in 1899 at the Military School at
Fountainebleau, with a canvas glider of some 80 square feet supporting
surface, and weighing 65 lbs. Two years later he constructed a larger
and more satisfactory machine, with which he made numerous excellent
glides. Later, he constructed an apparatus which suspended a plane from
a long arm which swung on a tower, in order that experiments might be
carried out without risk to the experimenter, and it was not until 1905
that he attempted power-driven free flight. He took up the Voisin design
of biplane for his power-driven flights, and virtually devoted all his
energies to the study of aeronautics. His book, Aviation, its Dawn
and Development, is a work of scientific value--unlike many of his
contemporaries, Ferber brought to the study of the problems of flight a
trained mind, and he was concerned equally with the theoretical problems
of aeronautics and the practical aspects of the subject.
After Bleriot's successful cross-Channel flight, it was proposed to
offer a prize of L1,000 for the feat which C. S. Rolls subsequently
accomplished (starting from the English side of the Channel), a flight
from Boulogne to Dover and back; in place of this, however, an aviation
week at Boulogne was organised, but, although numerous aviators were
invited to compete, the condition of the flying grounds was such that
no competitions took place. Ferber was virtually the only one to do any
flying at Boulogne, and at the outset he had his first accident; after
what was for those days a good flight, he made a series of circles
with his machine, when it suddenly struck the ground, being partially
wrecked. Repairs were carried out, and Ferber resumed his exhibition
flights, carrying on up to Wednesday, September 22nd, 1909. On that day
he remained in the air for half an hour, and, as he was about to land,
the machine struck a mound of earth and overturned, pinning Ferber under
the weight of the motor. After being extricated, Ferber seemed to show
little concern at the accident, but in a few minutes he complained of
great pain, when he was conveyed to the ambulance shed on the ground.
'I was foolish,' he told those who were with him there. 'I was flying
too low. It was my own fault and it will be a severe lesson to me.
I wanted to turn round, and was only five metres from the ground.' A
little after this, he got up from the couch on which he had been placed,
and almost immediately collapsed, dying five minutes later.
Ferber's chief contemporaries in France were Santos-Dumont, of airship
fame, Henri and Maurice Farman, Hubert Latham, Ernest Archdeacon, and
Delagrange. These are names that come at once to mind, as does that of
Bleriot, who accomplished the second great feat of power-driven flight,
but as a matter of fact the years 1903-10 are filled with a little host
of investigators and experimenters, many of whom, although their names
do not survive to any extent, are but a very little way behind those
mentioned here in enthusiasm and devotion. Archdeacon and Gabriel
Voisin, the former of whom took to heart the success achieved by the
Wright Brothers, co-operated in experiments in gliding. Archdeacon
constructed a glider in box-kite fashion, and Voisin experimented with
it on the Seine, the glider being towed by a motorboat to attain the
necessary speed. It was Archdeacon who offered a cup for the first
straight flight of 200 metres, which was won by Santos-Dumont, and he
also combined with Henri Deutsch de la Meurthe in giving the prize for
the first circular flight of a mile, which was won by Henry Farman on
January 13th, 1908.
A history of the development of aviation in France in these, the
strenuous years, would fill volumes in itself. Bleriot was carrying
out experiments with a biplane glider on the Seine, and Robert
Esnault-Pelterie was working on the lines of the Wright Brothers,
bringing American practice to France. In America others besides the
Wrights had wakened to the possibilities of heavier-than-air flight;
Glenn Curtiss, in company with Dr Alexander Graham Bell, with J. A. D.
McCurdy, and with F. W. Baldwin, a Canadian engineer, formed the Aerial
Experiment Company, which built a number of aeroplanes, most famous of
which were the 'June Bug,' the 'Red Wing,' and the 'White Wing.' In 1908
the 'June Bug 'won a cup presented by the Scientific American--it was
the first prize offered in America in connection with aeroplane flight.
Among the little group of French experimenters in these first years of
practical flight, Santos-Dumont takes high rank. He built his 'No. 14
bis' aeroplane in biplane form, with two superposed main plane surfaces,
and fitted it with an eight-cylinder Antoinette motor driving a
two-bladed aluminium propeller, of which the blades were 6 feet only
from tip to tip. The total lift surface of 860 square feet was given
with a wing-span of a little under 40 feet, and the weight of the
complete machine was 353 lbs., of which the engine weighed 158 lbs.
In July of 1906 Santos-Dumont flew a distance of a few yards in this
machine, but damaged it in striking the ground; on October 23rd of the
same year he made a flight of nearly 200 feet--which might have been
longer, but that he feared a crowd in front of the aeroplane and cut
off his ignition. This may be regarded as the first effective flight in
Europe, and by it Santos-Dumont takes his place as one of the chief--if
not the chief--of the pioneers of the first years of practical flight,
so far as Europe is concerned.
Meanwhile, the Voisin Brothers, who in 1904 made cellular kites for
Archdeacon to test by towing on the Seine from a motor launch, obtained
data for the construction of the aeroplane which Delagrange and Henry
Farman were to use later. The Voisin was a biplane, constructed with
due regard to the designs of Langley, Lilienthal, and other earlier
experimenters--both the Voisins and M. Colliex, their engineer, studied
Lilienthal pretty exhaustively in getting out their design, though their
own researches were very thorough as well. The weight of this Voisin
biplane was about 1,450 lbs., and its maximum speed was some 38 to 40
miles per hour, the total supporting surface being about 535 square
feet. It differed from the Wright design in the possession of a
tail-piece, a characteristic which marked all the French school of early
design as in opposition to the American. The Wright machine got its
longitudinal stability by means of the main planes and the elevating
planes, while the Voisin type added a third factor of stability in its
sailplanes. Further, the Voisins fitted their biplane with a wheeled
undercarriage, while the Wright machine, being fitted only with runners,
demanded a launching rail for starting. Whether a machine should be
tailless or tailed was for some long time matter for acute controversy,
which in the end was settled by the fitting of a tail to the Wright
machines-France won the dispute by the concession.
Henry Farman, who began his flying career with a Voisin machine, evolved
from it the aeroplane which bore his name, following the main lines of
the Voisin type fairly closely, but making alterations in the controls,
and in the design of the undercarriage, which was somewhat elaborated,
even to the inclusion of shock absorbers. The seven-cylinder 50
horse-power Gnome rotary engine was fitted to the Farman machine--the
Voisins had fitted an eight-cylinder Antoinette, giving 50 horse-power
at 1,100 revolutions per minute, with direct drive to the propeller.
Farman reduced the weight of the machine from the 1,450 lbs. of the
Voisins to some 1,010 lbs. or thereabouts, and the supporting area to
450 square feet. This machine won its chief fame with Paulhan as pilot
in the famous London to Manchester flight--it is to be remarked, too,
that Farman himself was the first man in Europe to accomplish a flight
of a mile.
Other notable designs of these early days were the 'R.E.P.', Esnault
Pelterie's machine, and the Curtiss-Herring biplane. Of these Esnault
Pelterie's was a monoplane, designed in that form since Esnault Pelterie
had found by experiment that the wire used in bracing offers far more
resistance to the air than its dimensions would seem to warrant. He
built the wings of sufficient strength to stand the strain of flight
without bracing wires, and dependent only for their support on the
points of attachment to the body of the machine; for the rest, it
carried its propeller in front of the planes, and both horizontal and
vertical rudders at the stern--a distinct departure from the Wright
and similar types. One wheel only was fixed under the body where the
undercarriage exists on a normal design, but light wheels were fixed,
one at the extremity of each wing, and there was also a wheel under the
tail portion of the machine. A single lever actuated all the controls
for steering. With a supporting surface of 150 square feet the machine
weighed 946 lbs., about 6.4 lbs. per square foot of lifting surface.
The Curtiss biplane, as flown by Glenn Curtiss at the Rheims meeting,
was built with a bamboo framework, stayed by means of very fine
steel-stranded cables. A--then--novel feature of the machine was the
moving of the ailerons by the pilot leaning to one side or the other in
his seat, a light, tubular arm-rest being pressed by his body when he
leaned to one side or the other, and thus operating the movement of the
ailerons employed for tilting the plane when turning. A steering-wheel
fitted immediately in front of the pilot's seat served to operate a rear
steering-rudder when the wheel was turned in either direction, while
pulling back the wheel altered the inclination of the front elevating
planes, and so gave lifting or depressing control of the plane.
This machine ran on three wheels before leaving the ground, a central
undercarriage wheel being fitted in front, with two more in line with
a right angle line drawn through the centre of the engine crank at the
rear end of the crank-case. The engine was a 35 horsepower Vee design,
water cooled, with overhead inlet and exhaust valves, and Bosch
high-tension magneto ignition. The total weight of the plane in flying
order was about 700 lbs.
As great a figure in the early days as either Ferber or Santos-Dumont
was Louis Bleriot, who, as early as 1900 built a flapping-wing model,
this before ever he came to experimenting with the Voisin biplane type
of glider on the Seine. Up to 1906 he had built four biplanes of his own
design, and in March of 1907 he built his first monoplane, to wreck
it only a few days after completion in an accident from which he had
a fortunate escape. His next machine was a double monoplane, designed
after Langley's precept, to a certain extent, and this was totally
wrecked in September of 1907. His seventh machine, a monoplane, was
built within a month of this accident, and with this he had a number
of mishaps, also achieving some good flights, including one in which
he made a turn. It was wrecked in December of 1907, whereupon he built
another monoplane on which, on July 6th, 1908, Bleriot made a flight
lasting eight and a half minutes. In October of that year he flew the
machine from Toury to Artenay and returned on it--this was just a day
after Farman's first cross-country flight--but, trying to repeat the
success five days later, Bleriot collided with a tree in a fog and
wrecked the machine past repair. Thereupon he set about building his
eleventh machine, with which he was to achieve the first flight across
the English channel.
Henry Farman, to whom reference has already been made, was engaged with
his two brothers, Maurice and Richard, in the motor-car business, and
turned to active interest in flying in 1907, when the Voisin firm built
his first biplane on the box-kite principle. In July of 1908 he won
a prize of L400 for a flight of thirteen miles, previously having
completed the first kilometre flown in Europe with a passenger, the said
passenger being Ernest Archdeaon. In September of 1908 Farman put up a
speed record of forty miles an hour in a flight lasting forty minutes.
Santos-Dumont produced the famous 'Demoiselle' monoplane early in 1909,
a tiny machine in which the pilot had his seat in a sort of miniature
cage under the main plane. It was a very fast, light little machine but
was difficult to fly, and owing to its small wingspread was unable
to glide at a reasonably safe angle. There has probably never been a
cheaper flying machine to build than the 'Demoiselle,' which could be so
upset as to seem completely wrecked, and then repaired ready for further
flight by a couple of hours' work. Santos-Dumont retained no patent
in the design, but gave it out freely to any one who chose to build
'Demoiselles'; the vogue of the pattern was brief, owing to the
difficulty of piloting the machine.
These were the years of records, broken almost as soon as made. There
was Farman's mile, there was the flight of the Comte de Lambert over the
Eiffel Tower, Latham's flight at Blackpool in a high wind, the Rheims
records, and then Henry Farman's flight of four hours later in 1909,
Orville Wright's height record of 1,640 feet, and Delagrange's speed
record of 49.9 miles per hour. The coming to fame of the Gnome rotary
engine helped in the making of these records to a very great extent,
for in this engine was a prime mover which gave the reliability that
aeroplane builders and pilots had been searching for, but vainly. The
Wrights and Glenn Curtiss, of course, had their own designs of engine,
but the Gnome, in spite of its lack of economy in fuel and oil, and its
high cost, soon came to be regarded as the best power plant for flight.
Delagrange, one of the very good pilots of the early days, provided a
curious insight to the way in which flying was regarded, at the opening
of the Juvisy aero aerodrome in May of 1909. A huge crowd had gathered
for the first day's flying, and nine machines were announced to appear,
but only three were brought out. Delagrange made what was considered an
indifferent little flight, and another pilot, one De Bischoff, attempted
to rise, but could not get his machine off the ground. Thereupon the
crowd of 30,000 people lost their tempers, broke down the barriers
surrounding the flying course, and hissed the officials, who were quite
unable to maintain order. Delagrange, however, saved the situation
by making a circuit of the course at a height of thirty feet from the
ground, which won him rounds of cheering and restored the crowd to
good humour. Possibly the smash achieved by Rougier, the famous racing
motorist, who crashed his Voisin biplane after Delagrange had made his
circuit, completed the enjoyment of the spectators. Delagrange, flying
at Argentan in June of 1909, made a flight of four kilometres at a
height of sixty feet; for those days this was a noteworthy performance.
Contemporary with this was Hubert Latham's flight of an hour and seven
minutes on an Antoinette monoplane; this won the adjective 'magnificent'
from contemporary recorders of aviation.
Viewing the work of the little group of French experimenters, it is,
at this length of time from their exploits, difficult to see why
they carried the art as far as they did. There was in it little of
satisfaction, a certain measure of fame, and practically no profit--the
giants of those days got very little for their pains. Delagrange's
experience at the opening of the Juvisy ground was symptomatic of the
way in which flight was regarded by the great mass of people--it was a
sport, and nothing more, but a sport without the dividends attaching
to professional football or horse-racing. For a brief period, after the
Rheims meeting, there was a golden harvest to be reaped by the best of
the pilots. Henry Farman asked L2,000 for a week's exhibition flying in
England, and Paulhan asked half that sum, but a rapid increase in
the number of capable pilots, together with the fact that most flying
meetings were financial failures, owing to great expense in organisation
and the doubtful factor of the weather, killed this goose before many
golden eggs had been gathered in by the star aviators. Besides, as
height and distance records were broken one after another, it became
less and less necessary to pay for entrance to an aerodrome in order to
see a flight--the thing grew too big for a mere sports ground.
Long before Rheims and the meeting there, aviation had grown too big for
the chronicling of every individual effort. In that period of the first
days of conquest of the air, so much was done by so many whose names
are now half-forgotten that it is possible only to pick out the great
figures and make brief reference to their achievements and the machines
with which they accomplished so much, pausing to note such epoch-making
events as the London-Manchester flight, Bleriot's Channel crossing,
and the Rheims meeting itself, and then passing on beyond the days of
individual records to the time when the machine began to dominate the
man. This latter because, in the early days, it was heroism to trust
life to the planes that were turned out--the 'Demoiselle' and the
Antoinette machine that Latham used in his attempt to fly the Channel
are good examples of the flimsiness of early types--while in the later
period, that of the war and subsequently, the heroism turned itself in a
different--and nobler-direction. Design became standardised, though
not perfected. The domination of the machine may best be expressed by
contrasting the way in which machines came to be regarded as compared
with the men who flew them: up to 1909, flying enthusiasts talked of
Farman, of Bleriot, of Paulhan, Curtiss, and of other men; later, they
began to talk of the Voisin, the Deperdussin, and even to the Fokker,
the Avro, and the Bristol type. With the standardising of the machine,
the days of the giants came to an end.
XIII. FIRST FLIERS IN ENGLAND
Certain experiments made in England by Mr Phillips seem to have come
near robbing the Wright Brothers of the honour of the first flight;
notes made by Colonel J. D. Fullerton on the Phillips flying machine
show that in 1893 the first machine was built with a length of 25 feet,
breadth of 22 feet, and height of 11 feet, the total weight, including a
72 lb. load, being 420 lbs. The machine was fitted with some fifty wood
slats, in place of the single supporting surface of the monoplane or two
superposed surfaces of the biplane, these slats being fixed in a steel
frame so that the whole machine rather resembled a Venetian blind. A
steam engine giving about 9 horse-power provided the motive power for
the six-foot diameter propeller which drove the machine. As it was
not possible to put a passenger in control as pilot, the machine was
attached to a central post by wire guys and run round a circle 100
feet in diameter, the track consisting of wooden planking 4 feet wide.
Pressure of air under the slats caused the machine to rise some two or
three feet above the track when sufficient velocity had been attained,
and the best trials were made on June 19th 1893, when at a speed of 40
miles an hour, with a total load of 385 lbs., all the wheels were off
the ground for a distance of 2,000 feet.
In 1904 a full-sized machine was constructed by Mr Phillips, with a
total weight, including that of the pilot, of 600 lbs. The machine was
designed to lift when it had attained a velocity of 50 feet per
second, the motor fitted giving 22 horse-power. On trial, however, the
longitudinal equilibrium was found to be defective, and a further design
was got out, the third machine being completed in 1907. In this the wood
slats were held in four parallel container frames, the weight of the
machine, excluding the pilot, being 500 lbs. A motor similar to that
used in the 1904 machine was fitted, and the machine was designed to
lift at a velocity of about 30 miles an hour, a seven-foot propeller
doing the driving. Mr Phillips tried out this machine in a field about
400 yards across. 'The machine was started close to the hedge, and rose
from the ground when about 200 yards had been covered. When the machine
touched the ground again, about which there could be no doubt, owing to
the terrific jolting, it did not run many yards. When it came to rest I
was about ten yards from the boundary. Of course, I stopped the engine
before I commenced to descend.'[*]
[*] Aeronautical Journal, July, 1908.
S. F. Cody, an American by birth, aroused the attention not only of the
British public, but of the War office and Admiralty as well, as early as
1905 with his man-lifting kites. In that year a height of 1,600 feet was
reached by one of these box-kites, carrying a man, and later in the same
year one Sapper Moreton, of the Balloon Section of the Royal Engineers
(the parent of the Royal Flying Corps) remained for an hour at an
altitude of 2,600 feet. Following on the success of these kites, Cody
constructed an aeroplane which he designated a 'power kite,' which
was in reality a biplane that made the first flight in Great Britain.
Speaking before the Aeronautical Society in 1908, Cody said that 'I have
accomplished one thing that I hoped for very much, that is, to be the
first man to fly in Great Britain.... I made a machine that left the
ground the first time out; not high, possibly five or six inches only. I
might have gone higher if I wished. I made some five flights in all, and
the last flight came to grief.... On the morning of the accident I
went out after adjusting my propellers at 8 feet pitch running at 600
(revolutions per minute). I think that I flew at about twenty-eight
miles per hour. I had 50 horsepower motor power in the engine. A bunch
of trees, a flat common above these trees, and from this flat there is a
slope goes down... to another clump of trees. Now, these clumps of trees
are a quarter of a mile apart or thereabouts.... I was accused of doing
nothing but jumping with my machine, so I got a bit agitated and went to
fly.
I went out this morning with an easterly wind, and left the ground at
the bottom of the hill and struck the ground at the top, a distance of
74 yards. That proved beyond a doubt that the machine would fly--it
flew uphill. That was the most talented flight the machine did, in my
opinion. Now, I turned round at the top and started the machine and left
the ground--remember, a ten mile wind was blowing at the time. Then, 60
yards from where the men let go, the machine went off in this direction
(demonstrating)--I make a line now where I hoped to land--to cut these
trees off at that side and land right off in here. I got here somewhat
excited, and started down and saw these trees right in front of me. I
did not want to smash my head rudder to pieces, so I raised it again and
went up. I got one wing direct over that clump of trees, the right wing
over the trees, the left wing free; the wind, blowing with me, had to
lift over these trees. So I consequently got a false lift on the right
side and no lift on the left side. Being only about 8 feet from the
tree tops, that turned my machine up like that (demonstrating). This
end struck the ground shortly after I had passed the trees. I pulled the
steering handle over as far as I could. Then I faced another bunch of
trees right in front of me. Trying to avoid this second bunch of trees I
turned the rudder, and turned it rather sharp. That side of the machine
struck, and it crumpled up like so much tissue paper, and the machine
spun round and struck the ground that way on, and the framework was
considerably wrecked. Now, I want to advise all aviators not to try
to fly with the wind and to cross over any big clump of earth or any
obstacle of any description unless they go square over the top of it,
because the lift is enormous crossing over anything like that, and in
coming the other way against the wind it would be the same thing when
you arrive at the windward side of the obstacle. That is a point I did
not think of, and had I thought of it I would have been more cautious.'
This Cody machine was a biplane with about 40 foot span, the wings being
about 7 feet in depth with about 8 feet between upper and lower wing
surfaces. 'Attached to the extremities of the lower planes are two small
horizontal planes or rudders, while a third small vertical plane is
fixed over the centre of the upper plane.' The tail-piece and principal
rudder were fitted behind the main body of the machine, and a horizontal
rudder plane was rigged out in front, on two supporting arms extending
from the centre of the machine. The small end-planes and the vertical
plane were used in conjunction with the main rudder when turning to
right or left, the inner plane being depressed on the turn, and the
outer one correspondingly raised, while the vertical plane, working in
conjunction, assisted in preserving stability. Two two-bladed propellers
were driven by an eight-cylinder 50 horse-power Antoinette motor. With
this machine Cody made his first flights over Laffan's plain, being then
definitely attached to the Balloon Section of the Royal Engineers as
military aviation specialist.
There were many months of experiment and trial, after the accident which
Cody detailed in the statement given above, and then, on May 14th, 1909,
Cody took the air and made a flight of 1,200 yards with entire success.
Meanwhile A. V. Roe was experimenting at Lea Marshes with a triplane
of rather curious design the pilot having his seat between two sets of
three superposed planes, of which the front planes could be tilted and
twisted while the machine was in motion. He comes but a little way after
Cody in the chronology of early British experimenters, but Cody, a born
inventor, must be regarded as the pioneer of the present century so
far as Britain is concerned. He was neither engineer nor trained
mathematician, but he was a good rule-of-thumb mechanic and a man of
pluck and perseverance; he never strove to fly on an imperfect machine,
but made alteration after alteration in order to find out what was
improvement and what was not, in consequence of which it was said of him
that he was 'always satisfied with his alterations.'
By July of 1909 he had fitted an 80 horse-power motor to his biplane,
and with this he made a flight of over four miles over Laffan's Plain on
July 21st. By August he was carrying passengers, the first being Colonel
Capper of the R.E. Balloon Section, who flew with Cody for over
two miles, and on September 8th, 1909, he made a world's record
cross-country flight of over forty miles in sixty-six minutes, taking
a course from Laffan's Plain over Farnborough, Rushmoor, and Fleet,
and back to Laffan's Plain. He was one of the competitors in the 1909
Doncaster Aviation Meeting, and in 1910 he competed at Wolverhampton,
Bournemouth, and Lanark. It was on June 7th, 1910, that he qualified for
his brevet, No. 9, on the Cody biplane.
He built a machine which embodied all the improvements for which he had
gained experience, in 1911, a biplane with a length of 35 feet and
span of 43 feet, known as the 'Cody cathedral' on account of its
rather cumbrous appearance. With this, in 1911, he won the two Michelin
trophies presented in England, completed the Daily Mail circuit of
Britain, won the Michelin cross-country prize in 1912 and altogether, by
the end of 1912, had covered more than 7,000 miles with the machine.
It was fitted with a 120 horse-power Austro-Daimler engine, and was
characterised by an exceptionally wide range of speed--the great
wingspread gave a slow landing speed.
A few of his records may be given: in 1910, flying at Laffan's Plain in
his biplane, fitted with a 50-60 horsepower Green engine, on December
31st, he broke the records for distance and time by flying 185 miles,
787 yards, in 4 hours 37 minutes. On October 31st, 1911, he beat this
record by flying for 5 hours 15 minutes, in which period he covered
261 miles 810 yards with a 60 horse-power Green engine fitted to his
biplane. In 1912, competing in the British War office tests of military
aeroplanes, he won the L5,000 offered by the War Office. This was in
competition with no less than twenty-five other machines, among which
were the since-famous Deperdussin, Bristol, Flanders, and Avro types,
as well as the Maurice Farman and Bleriot makes of machine. Cody's
remarkable speed range was demonstrated in these trials, the speeds of
his machine varying between 72.4 and 48.5 miles per hour. The machine
was the only one delivered for the trials by air, and during the three
hours' test imposed on all competitors a maximum height of 5,000 feet
was reached, the first thousand feet being achieved in three and a half
minutes.
During the summer of 1913 Cody put his energies into the production of
a large hydro-biplane, with which he intended to win the L5,000 prize
offered by the Daily Mail to the first aviator to fly round Britain on
a waterplane. This machine was fitted with landing gear for its tests,
and, while flying it over Laffan's Plain on August 7th, 1913, with Mr W.
H. B. Evans as passenger, Cody met with the accident that cost both
him and his passenger their lives. Aviation lost a great figure by his
death, for his plodding, experimenting, and dogged courage not only won
him the fame that came to a few of the pilots of those days, but also
advanced the cause of flying very considerably and contributed not a
little to the sum of knowledge in regard to design and construction.
Another figure of the early days was A. V. Roe, who came from marine
engineering to the motor industry and aviation in 1905. In 1906 he went
out to Colorado, getting out drawings for the Davidson helicopter, and
in 1907 having returned to England, he obtained highest award out of 200
entries in a model aeroplane flying competition. From the design of
this model he built a full-sized machine, and made a first flight on it,
fitted with a 24 horse-power Antoinette engine, in June of 1908 Later,
he fitted a 9 horsepower motor-cycle engine to a triplane of his own
design, and with this made a number of short flights; he got his flying
brevet on a triplane with a motor of 35 horse-power, which, together
with a second triplane, was entered for the Blackpool aviation meeting
of 1910 but was burnt in transport to the meeting. He was responsible
for the building of the first seaplane to rise from English waters, and
may be counted the pioneer of the tractor type of biplane. In 1913 he
built a two-seater tractor biplane with 80 horse-power engine, a machine
which for some considerable time ranked as a leader of design. Together
with E. V. Roe and H. V. Roe, 'A. V.' controlled the Avro works, which
produced some of the most famous training machines of the war period in
a modification of the original 80 horse-power tractor. The first of the
series of Avro tractors to be adopted by the military authorities was
the 1912 biplane, a two-seater fitted with 50 horsepower engine. It was
the first tractor biplane with a closed fuselage to be used for military
work, and became standard for the type. The Avro seaplane, of I 100
horse-power (a fourteen-cylinder Gnome engine was used) was taken up
by the British Admiralty in 1913. It had a length of 34 feet and a
wing-span of 50 feet, and was of the twin-float type.
Geoffrey de Havilland, though of later rank, counts high among designers
of British machines. He qualified for his brevet as late as February,
1911, on a biplane of his own construction, and became responsible for
the design of the BE2, the first successful British Government biplane.
On this he made a British height record of 10,500 feet over Salisbury
Plain, in August of 1912, when he took up Major Sykes as passenger. In
the war period he was one of the principal designers of fighting and
reconnaissance machines.
F. Handley Page, who started in business as an aeroplane builder in
1908, having works at Barking, was one of the principal exponents of
the inherently stable machine, to which he devoted practically all his
experimental work up to the outbreak of war. The experiments were made
with various machines, both of monoplane and biplane type, and of these
one of the best was a two-seater monoplane built in 1911, while a second
was a larger machine, a biplane, built in 1913 and fitted with a 110
horse-power Anzani engine. The war period brought out the giant biplane
with which the name of Handley Page is most associated, the twin-engined
night-bomber being a familiar feature of the later days of the war;
the four-engined bomber had hardly had a chance of proving itself under
service conditions when the war came to an end.
Another notable figure of the early period was 'Tommy' Sopwith, who took
his flying brevet at Brooklands in November of 1910, and within four
days made the British duration record of 108 miles in 3 hours 12
minutes. On December 18th, 1910, he won the Baron de Forrest prize of
L4,000 for the longest flight from England to the Continent, flying
from Eastchurch to Tirlemont, Belgium, in three hours, a distance of 161
miles. After two years of touring in America, he returned to England and
established a flying school. In 1912 he won the first aerial Derby, and
in 1913 a machine of his design, a tractor biplane, raised the British
height record to 13,000 feet (June 16th, at Brooklands). First as
aviator, and then as designer, Sopwith has done much useful work in
aviation.
These are but a few, out of a host who contributed to the development of
flying in this country, for, although France may be said to have set
the pace as regards development, Britain was not far behind. French
experimenters received far more Government aid than did the early
British aviators and designers--in the early days the two were
practically synonymous, and there are many stories of the very early
days at Brooklands, where, when funds ran low, the ardent spirits
patched their trousers with aeroplane fabric and went on with their work
with Bohemian cheeriness. Cody, altering and experimenting on Laffan's
Plain, is the greatest figure of them all, but others rank, too, as
giants of the early days, before the war brought full recognition of the
aeroplane's potentialities.
One of the first men actually to fly in England, Mr J. C. T.
Moore-Brabazon, was a famous figure in the days of exhibition flying,
and won his reputation mainly through being first to fly a circular
mile on a machine designed and built in Great Britain and piloted by a
British subject. Moore-Brabazon's earliest flights were made in France
on a Voisin biplane in 1908, and he brought this machine over to
England, to the Aero Club grounds at Shellness, but soon decided that he
would pilot a British machine instead. An order was placed for a Short
machine, and this, fitted with a 50-60 horse-power Green engine, was
used for the circular mile, which won a prize of L1,000 offered by the
Daily Mail, the feat being accomplished on October 30th, 1909. Five
days later, Moore-Brabazon achieved the longest flight up to that time
accomplished on a British-built machine, covering three and a half
miles. In connection with early flying in England, it is claimed that A.
V. Roe, flying 'Avro B,',' on June 8th, 1908, was actually the first man
to leave the ground, this being at Brooklands, but in point of fact Cody
antedated him.
No record of early British fliers could be made without the name of C.
S. Rolls, a son of Lord Llangattock, on June 2nd, 1910, he flew across
the English Channel to France, until he was duly observed over French
territory, when he returned to England without alighting. The trip was
made on a Wright biplane, and was the third Channel crossing by air,
Bleriot having made the first, and Jacques de Lesseps the second. Rolls
was first to make the return journey in one trip. He was eventually
killed through the breaking of the tail-plane of his machine in
descending at a flying meeting at Bournemouth. The machine was a Wright
biplane, but the design of the tail-plane--which, by the way, was
an addition to the machine, and was not even sanctioned by the
Wrights--appears to have been carelessly executed, and the plane itself
was faulty in construction. The breakage caused the machine to overturn,
killing Rolls, who was piloting it.
XIV. RHEIMS, AND AFTER
The foregoing brief--and necessarily incomplete--survey of the early
British group of fliers has taken us far beyond some of the great events
of the early days of successful flight, and it is necessary to go back
to certain landmarks in the history of aviation, first of which is the
great meeting at Rheims in 1909. Wilbur Wright had come to Europe,
and, flying at Le Mans and Pau--it was on August 8th, 1908, that Wilbur
Wright made the first of his ascents in Europe--had stimulated public
interest in flying in France to a very great degree. Meanwhile, Orville
Wright, flying at Fort Meyer, U.S.A., with Lieutenant Selfridge as a
passenger, sustained an accident which very nearly cost him his life
through the transmission gear of the motor breaking. Selfridge was
killed and Orville Wright was severely injured--it was the first fatal
accident with a Wright machine.
Orville Wright made a flight of over an hour on September 9th, 1908, and
on December 31st of that year Wilbur flew for 2 hours 19 minutes. Thus,
when the Rheims meeting was organised--more notable because it was the
first of its kind, there were already records waiting to be broken. The
great week opened on August 22nd, there being thirty entrants, including
all the most famous men among the early fliers in France. Bleriot,
fresh from his Channel conquest, was there, together with Henry Farman,
Paulhan, Curtiss, Latham, and the Comte de Lambert, first pupil of the
Wright machine in Europe to achieve a reputation as an aviator.
'To say that this week marks an epoch in the history of the world is to
state a platitude. Nevertheless, it is worth stating, and for us who
are lucky enough to be at Rheims during this week there is a solid
satisfaction in the idea that we are present at the making of history.
In perhaps only a few years to come the competitions of this week may
look pathetically small and the distances and speeds may appear paltry.
Nevertheless, they are the first of their kind, and that is sufficient.'
So wrote a newspaper correspondent who was present at the famous
meeting, and his words may stand, being more than mere journalism; for
the great flying week which opened on August 22nd, 1909, ranks as one of
the great landmarks in the history of heavier-than-air flight. The day
before the opening of the meeting a downpour of rain spoilt the flying
ground; Sunday opened with a fairly high wind, and in a lull M.
Guffroy turned out on a crimson R.E.P. monoplane, but the wheels of
his undercarriage stuck in the mud and prevented him from rising in
the quarter of an hour allowed to competitors to get off the ground.
Bleriot, following, succeeded in covering one side of the triangular
course, but then came down through grit in the carburettor. Latham,
following him with thirteen as the number of his machine, experienced
his usual bad luck and came to earth through engine trouble after a very
short flight. Captain Ferber, who, owing to military regulations, always
flew under the name of De Rue, came out next with his Voisin biplane,
but failed to get off the ground; he was followed by Lefebvre on a
Wright biplane, who achieved the success of the morning by rounding the
course--a distance of six and a quarter miles--in nine minutes with a
twenty mile an hour wind blowing. His flight finished the morning.
Wind and rain kept competitors out of the air until the evening, when
Latham went up, to be followed almost immediately by the Comte de
Lambert. Sommer, Cockburn (the only English competitor), Delagrange,
Fournier, Lefebvre, Bleriot, Bunau-Varilla, Tissandier, Paulhan,
and Ferber turned out after the first two, and the excitement of the
spectators at seeing so many machines in the air at one time provoked
wild cheering. The only accident of the day came when Bleriot damaged
his propeller in colliding with a haycock.
The main results of the day were that the Comte de Lambert flew 30
kilometres in 29 minutes 2 seconds; Lefebvre made the ten-kilometre
circle of the track in just a second under 9 minutes, while Tissandier
did it in 9 1/4 minutes, and Paulhan reached a height of 230 feet. Small
as these results seem to us now, and ridiculous as may seem enthusiasm
at the sight of a few machines in the air at the same time, the Rheims
Meeting remains a great event, since it proved definitely to the whole
world that the conquest of the air had been achieved.
Throughout the week record after record was made and broken. Thus on
the Monday, Lefebvre put up a record for rounding the course and Bleriot
beat it, to be beaten in turn by Glenn Curtiss on his Curtiss-Herring
biplane. On that day, too, Paulhan covered 34 3/4 miles in 1 hour 6
minutes. On the next day, Paulhan on his Voisin biplane took the air
with Latham, and Fournier followed, only to smash up his machine by
striking an eddy of wind which turned him over several times. On the
Thursday, one of the chief events was Latham's 43 miles accomplished in
1 hour 2 minutes in the morning and his 96.5 miles in 2 hours 13 minutes
in the afternoon, the latter flight only terminated by running out of
petrol. On the Friday, the Colonel Renard French airship, which had
flown over the ground under the pilotage of M. Kapfarer, paid Rheims a
second visit; Latham manoeuvred round the airship on his Antoinette and
finally left it far behind. Henry Farman won the Grand Prix de Champagne
on this day, covering 112 miles in 3 hours, 4 minutes, 56 seconds,
Latham being second with his 96.5 miles flight, and Paulhan third.
On the Saturday, Glenn Curtiss came to his own, winning the
Gordon-Bennett Cup by covering 20 kilometres in 15 minutes 50.6 seconds.
Bleriot made a good second with 15 minutes 56.2 seconds as his time,
and Latham and Lefebvre were third and fourth. Farman carried off the
passenger prize by carrying two passengers a distance of 6 miles in 10
minutes 39 seconds. On the last day Delagrange narrowly escaped serious
accident through the bursting of his propeller while in the air, Curtiss
made a new speed record by travelling at the rate of over 50 miles an
hour, and Latham, rising to 500 feet, won the altitude prize.
These are the cold statistics of the meeting; at this length of time it
is difficult to convey any idea of the enthusiasm of the crowds over
the achievements of the various competitors, while the incidents of
the week, comic and otherwise, are nearly forgotten now even by those
present in this making of history. Latham's great flight on the Thursday
was rendered a breathless episode by a downpour of rain when he had
covered all but a kilometre of the record distance previously achieved
by Paulhan, and there was wild enthusiasm when Latham flew on through
the rain until he had put up a new record and his petrol had run out.
Again, on the Friday afternoon, the Colonel Renard took the air together
with a little French dirigible, Zodiac III; Latham was already in the
air directly over Farman, who was also flying, and three crows which
turned out as rivals to the human aviators received as much cheering for
their appearance as had been accorded to the machines, which doubtless
they could not understand. Frightened by the cheering, the crows tried
to escape from the course, but as they came near the stands, the crowd
rose to cheer again and the crows wheeled away to make a second charge
towards safety, with the same result; the crowd rose and cheered at them
a third and fourth time; between ten and fifteen thousand people stood
on chairs and tables and waved hats and handkerchiefs at three ordinary,
everyday crows. One thoughtful spectator, having thoroughly enjoyed the
funny side of the incident, remarked that the ultimate mastery of the
air lies with the machine that comes nearest to natural flight. This
still remains for the future to settle.
Farman's world record, which won the Grand Prix de Champagne, was done
with a Gnome Rotary Motor which had only been run on the test bench
and was fitted to his machine four hours before he started on the great
flight. His propeller had never been tested, having only been completed
the night before. The closing laps of that flight, extending as they did
into the growing of the dusk, made a breathlessly eerie experience for
such of the spectators as stayed on to watch--and these were many. Night
came on steadily and Farman covered lap after lap just as steadily, a
buzzing, circling mechanism with something relentless in its isolated
persistency.
The final day of the meeting provided a further record in the quarter
million spectators who turned up to witness the close of the great week.
Bleriot, turning out in the morning, made a landing in some such fashion
as flooded the carburettor and caused it to catch fire. Bleriot himself
was badly burned, since the petrol tank burst and, in the end, only
the metal parts of the machine were left. Glenn Curtis tried to beat
Bleriot's time for a lap of the course, but failed. In the evening,
Farman and Latham went out and up in great circles, Farman cleaving his
way upward in what at the time counted for a huge machine, on circles
of about a mile diameter. His first round took him level with the top of
the stands, and, in his second, he circled the captive balloon anchored
in the middle of the grounds. After another circle, he came down on a
long glide, when Latham's lean Antoinette monoplane went up in circles
more graceful than those of Farman. 'Swiftly it rose and swept round
close to the balloon, veered round to the hangars, and out over to the
Rheims road. Back it came high over the stands, the people craning their
necks as the shrill cry of the engine drew nearer and nearer behind the
stands. Then of a sudden, the little form appeared away up in the deep
twilight blue vault of the sky, heading straight as an arrow for the
anchored balloon. Over it, and high, high above it went the Antoinette,
seemingly higher by many feet than the Farman machine. Then, wheeling
in a long sweep to the left, Latham steered his machine round past the
stands, where the people, their nerve-tension released on seeing the
machine descending from its perilous height of 500 feet, shouted their
frenzied acclamations to the hero of the meeting.
'For certainly "Le Tham," as the French call him, was the popular hero.
He always flew high, he always flew well, and his machine was a joy to
the eye, either afar off or at close quarters. The public feeling for
Bleriot is different. Bleriot, in the popular estimation, is the man who
fights against odds, who meets the adverse fates calmly and with good
courage, and to whom good luck comes once in a while as a reward for
much labour and anguish, bodily and mental. Latham is the darling of
the Gods, to whom Fate has only been unkind in the matter of the Channel
flight, and only then because the honour belonged to Bleriot.
'Next to these two, the public loved most Lefebvre, the joyous, the
gymnastic. Lefebvre was the comedian of the meeting. When things began
to flag, the gay little Lefebvre would trot out to his starting rail,
out at the back of the judge's enclosure opposite the stands, and after
a little twisting of propellers his Wright machine would bounce off the
end of its starting rail and proceed to do the most marvellous tricks
for the benefit of the crowd, wheeling to right and left, darting up and
down, now flying over a troop of the cavalry who kept the plain clear of
people and sending their horses into hysterics, anon making straight
for an unfortunate photographer who would throw himself and his precious
camera flat on the ground to escape annihilation as Lefebvre swept over
him 6 or 7 feet off the ground. Lefebvre was great fun, and when he had
once found that his machine was not fast enough to compete for speed
with the Bleriots, Antoinettes, and Curtiss, he kept to his metier of
amusing people. The promoters of the meeting owe Lefebvre a debt of
gratitude, for he provided just the necessary comic relief.'--(The Aero,
September 7th, 1909.)
It may be noted, in connection with the fact that Cockburn was the only
English competitor at the meeting, that the Rheims Meeting did more than
anything which had preceded it to waken British interest in aviation.
Previously, heavier-than-air flight in England had been regarded as
a freak business by the great majority, and the very few pioneers who
persevered toward winning England a share in the conquest of the air
came in for as much derision as acclamation. Rheims altered this; it
taught the world in general, and England in particular, that a serious
rival to the dirigible balloon had come to being, and it awakened the
thinking portion of the British public to the fact that the aeroplane
had a future.