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case.
“Romance of Reality” Series
Edited by Ellison Hawks
THE AEROPLANE
* * * * * *
_VOLUMES ALREADY ISSUED_
1. THE AEROPLANE.
By GRAHAME WHITE and HARRY HARPER.
2. THE MAN-OF-WAR.
By Commander E. H. CURREY, R.N.
3. MODERN INVENTIONS. By V. E. JOHNSON, M.A.
4. ELECTRICITY. By W. H. MCCORMICK.
5. ENGINEERING. By GORDON D. KNOX.
* * * * * *
[Illustration: THE AIR LINER OF THE FUTURE.
By the use of such a machine as this, twenty years hence, we shall be
able to spend a week-end in New York, as we do now in Paris or Scotland.
Flying at immense heights, and at speeds of 200 miles an hour, these
huge aircraft--carrying hundreds of passengers in vibrationless
luxury--will pass from London to New York in less than twenty hours.]
“Romance of Reality” Series
THE AEROPLANE
by
CLAUDE GRAHAME-WHITE and HARRY HARPER
Joint Authors of
“The Aeroplane; Past, Present, and Future”
“The Aeroplane in War" “Heroes of the Air”
“With the Airmen" “The Air King's Treasure”
etc. etc.
[Illustration]
London: T. C. & E. C. Jack
67 Long Acre, W.C., & Edinburgh
Printed in Great Britain
PREFACE
Our aim in these pages is to tell a complete story of the aerial
conquest, beginning from crude experiments, made hundreds of years ago;
passing thence to the first serious experimenters, with their
difficulties and triumphs; and so carrying on the tale to present-day
achievements and the latest-type machines.
There is one aspect of this history which has an especial fascination;
and it is the personality of the men who--braving ridicule and scorn and
surmounting obstacles without number--laid the foundation-stones of
flight. Instead of being a compilation of dates, with certain
explanatory matter added, our book endeavours to make these men live: to
show what induced them to embark upon their seemingly hopeless quest; to
tell of their dreams and longings, and how they built their first frail
craft; to trace them to their boyhood and their play with kites; to
reveal them, in a word, as living beings, and not merely as names.
With this strongly human note, emphasizing the romance of the tale,
there goes also a series of explanations--made clearer by drawings and
diagrams--and tending always to show how, link by link and step by step,
data and experience were secured; how each pioneer, however humble,
played his individual and useful part; and how in the end, by sifting
all such knowledge and carrying experiment to its final stage, the
Wrights achieved the apparent miracle, and flew safely and successfully
in a power-driven machine.
The book divides itself naturally into sections. First there is the
story of the very early and haphazard tests, and of the notes and
speculations of scientists; then of the advent of the practical, patient
experimenter--the man who, taking a hint from the birds, realized that
ere he could hope to fly he must learn first to balance himself when in
the air. This stage, of course, introduces Otto Lilienthal--the German
engineer who, by his gliding flights from hilltops with outstretched,
bird-like wings, has won the honour of being styled “the father of the
aeroplane.”
From a narration of his work, so vital a link in the chain of progress,
the story passes to those two men--unflurried, reserved, and infinitely
painstaking--who at last evolved order out of chaos: Wilbur and Orville
Wright. Their diligent study is described; their perfected glider; the
building of their own motor; and, finally, that great day of triumph
which came in 1903--just eleven years ago.
The world being given thus an aeroplane which would fly, the steps which
followed were mainly those of perfection and improvement. One by one the
limitations were removed. At first men dared only to fly above a
smooth-surfaced aerodrome, in case their motors should stop and send
them gliding back to earth; but soon, gaining confidence in themselves
and in their engines, they were passing high across country. So, also,
in regard to their enemy the wind. Dreading even a gentle gust at
first, for fear it might overturn them, they have gained so rapidly in
skill that, thanks to their experience and the stability of their
machines, the airmen of to-day will do battle with a gale. In this
section of our book is a description of the greatest feats, both of
early days and of modern times--such as speed flying, altitude records,
and the touring of continents by air.
Thus logically may the tale be told: with digressions of course to cover
the risks of aviation, and to explain how they are being overcome; to
deal with aerial warfare and its many problems; to describe the advent
of the sea-plane; and to discuss the day when--a perfected passenger
craft being available--men will journey by air as they do now by land or
sea.
CLAUDE GRAHAME-WHITE.
HARRY HARPER.
LONDON, 1914.
NOTE.--_The authors thank most cordially the proprietors of_ The
Daily Mirror _for permission to reproduce certain photographs,
of an historical interest, which depict incidents from the
cross-Channel flying both of Latham and Bleriot; also F. N.
Birkett, Esq., the Topical Postcard Company, and_ The Central
News _for permission to use photographs illustrative of modern
aviation_.
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. WHAT EARLY HISTORY TELLS 1
II. THE WORK OF SCIENTISTS 8
III. FIRST FRUITS OF STUDY 21
IV. OTTO AND GUSTAV LILIENTHAL 31
V. GLIDING FLIGHT 41
VI. “THE BIRD MAN” 53
VII. WILBUR AND ORVILLE WRIGHT 62
VIII. THE WRIGHT MOTOR-DRIVEN PLANE 71
IX. DAWN OF FLIGHT 84
X. RIVAL AIRMEN 93
XI. A YEAR OF TRIUMPH 101
XII. PERILS OF THE AIR 130
XIII. MILITARY AND CROSS-COUNTRY FLYING 149
XIV. SEA-PLANES AND AIRSHIPS 169
XV. AERIAL WARFARE 188
XVI. AT A MODERN AERODROME 209
XVII. THE FLYING SCHOOL 226
XVIII. TOURING BY AIR 247
XIX. TWENTY YEARS HENCE 270
LIST OF PLATES
THE AIR LINER OF THE FUTURE _Frontispiece_
PLATE FACING PAGE
I. THE LANGLEY MACHINE 26
II. SANTOS-DUMONT’S FIRST FLIGHTS 46
III. FARMAN’S VOISIN BIPLANE 68
IV. LATHAM’S FALL INTO THE SEA 84
V. BLERIOT LEAVING THE FRENCH COAST 96
VI. BLERIOT REACHES DOVER 110
VII. A FARMAN IN FLIGHT 116
VIII. THE GNOME MOTOR 122
IX. THE FIRST HIGH-POWERED BLERIOT 134
X. MAURICE FARMAN BIPLANE 150
XI. AN AIRMAN’S POINT OF VIEW 164
XII. THE LONDON AERODROME FROM ABOVE 188
XIII. AN AEROPLANE FACTORY 202
XIV. BIPLANE CIRCLING A PYLON 230
XV. VIEW FROM A CRAFT ASCENDING 240
XVI. THE GRAHAME-WHITE “AEROBUS” 252
THE AEROPLANE
CHAPTER I
WHAT EARLY HISTORY TELLS
Simon the magician--A monk who sprang from a
tower--The Saracen who “rose like a bird.”
In learning to fly, men have passed through five definite and
clearly-marked stages which have extended over centuries, and cost many
lives. These five stages may be summarized thus:
1. Haphazard and foolhardy tests--ending generally in
death.
2. A period of scientific research, in which the
flight of birds was studied and experiments made
with lifting planes of various shapes.
3. A phase during which engineers built large,
power-driven machines, but had not the skill to
control them when in flight.
4. A stage in which, making a simple apparatus of
wings, men glided from hilltops, and learned to
balance themselves while in the air.
5. The stage in which, perfecting the gliding machines
they had learned to control, men fitted petrol
motors to them, and achieved at last a power-driven
flight.
In dim, remote ages, watching winged creatures as they skimmed above the
earth, men longed passionately to fly; instead of scaling hills or
creeping through woods, they desired to pass high above them; to spurn
the obstructions of creatures earth-bound, and fly over mountains and
seas. This longing to fly, even at the risk of life itself, was
expressed beautifully by Otto Lilienthal, the greatest of the pioneers.
He wrote:
“With each advent of spring, when the air is alive with
innumerable happy creatures; when the storks, on their arrival at
their old northern resorts, fold up the imposing flying apparatus
which carries them thousands of miles, lay back their heads and
announce their arrival by joyfully rattling their beaks; when the
swallows have made their entry and hurry through our streets and
pass our windows in sailing flight; when the lark appears as a dot
in the ether and manifests its joy of existence by its song; then
a certain desire takes possession of man. He longs to soar upward
and to glide free as a bird over smiling fields, leafy woods, and
mirror-like lakes, and so enjoy the fairy landscape as only a bird
can do.”
But man’s first attempts to fly were ill-judged and foolish. He failed
to understand the problems involved; he forgot that, even were he able
to build a machine which would navigate the air, he must learn to
control this craft; must learn to steer and balance it, and make it ride
the gusts. One might, for example, take a bicycle and say to a man:
“Here is a machine that can be propelled along the road; mount it and
ride away.” But if the man had not learned to handle a bicycle, and
balance himself on one, he would swerve for a few yards and then fall.
So with the man who, without forethought or study, sought to navigate
the air.
Probing the recesses of history we find that, even as far back as the
reign of the Emperor Nero, there was one Simon the magician who--if
legend can be credited--sought “to rise towards Heaven.” Simon, it
would seem, actually lifted himself into the air by the use of some
apparatus; but what this device was legend does not state. The
spectators seem to have been horrified, and Simon’s ascent into the air
was attributed to “the assistance of Beelzebub.” His triumph was
short-lived, for, as the legend goes on to record, he fell to the earth
and was killed. And this fate befell many who, in those very early days,
made flimsy wings and threw themselves from towers or the tops of hills.
Simon, it is thought, may have had some method in his apparent madness.
He may, for instance, have made a lifting plane and discovered that, if
he placed himself in a rising current of air, the effect would be to
raise him from the ground; and this suggestion has a greater probability
when we remember that in warm, southern lands there are often strong
up-currents of air upon which birds will soar, with wings motionless.
But what machine Simon used, and how he made his flight--if he did--are
questions that remain unanswered.
[Illustration: FIG. 1.]
Looking back into history, one fact is striking; and this is the part
that monks played in studying flight. They had leisure to think, and
time in which to make tests; and in many a monastery, hundreds of years
ago, quaint theories were propounded and queer craft planned. In the
eleventh century, at Malmesbury in England, there was a Benedictine monk
named Elmerus, or Oliver, more ambitious than many of his brethren. He
built himself a machine with wings; then, in order to put it to the
test, he ascended a tall tower, faced the wind, and sprang into the air.
That he had studied weighting and balance to some purpose was evident,
for he glided a short distance without accident; then, struck perhaps by
a sudden gust, lost equilibrium and came crashing to the ground. He was
not killed, as were many less rash than he; but broke his legs, and
nothing more is read of him as an experimenter. Of the doings of another
of these brave but reckless men--a Saracen who tried to fly in the
twelfth century--there is fuller information. He provided himself with
wings which he stiffened with wooden rods, and held out upon either side
of his body. Wearing these, he mounted to the top of a tower in
Constantinople (Fig. 1) and stood waiting for a favourable gust of wind.
When this came and caught his wings, he “rose into the air like a bird.”
And then, of course, seeing that he had no idea of balancing himself
when actually aloft, he fell pell-mell and “broke his bones.” People who
had gathered to watch, seeing this inglorious ending to the flight,
burst into laughter: ridicule rather than praise, indeed, was the fate
of the pioneers, even to the days when the first real flights were made.
In the fifteenth century, working upon more sensible lines of thought,
Leonardo da Vinci--an Italian genius who was painter, inventor,
sculptor, writer, and musician--devised several machines by which men
might navigate the air. Success did not come to him, as he had no motive
power with which he could equip a craft; but how keen a watcher he was
of the birds is shown by a passage from one of his manuscripts:
“The kite and other birds, which beat their wings little, go
seeking the course of the wind, and when the wind prevails on high
then will they be seen at a great height, and if it prevails low
they will hold themselves low. When the wind does not prevail at
all, then the kite beats its wings several times in its flight
in such a way that it raises itself high and acquires a start,
descending afterwards a little and progressing without beating its
wings, repeating the same performance time after time.”
Da Vinci, too, had some notion as to the need for balancing a machine
while in the air, and did not seem--like most others of the early
pioneers--to imagine that once a man had launched himself from a height
he would be able to control his craft by instinct. He wrote, indeed,
suggesting the position of a pilot in a flying machine, that “he should
be free from the waist upwards, in order that he might keep himself in
equilibrium, as one does in a boat.”
He realised, too, a fact that the modern airman always bears in mind;
and that is the value of flying high. Da Vinci wrote in this regard:
“Safety lies in flying at a considerable height from the ground, so that
if equilibrium be temporarily upset there may be time and space for
regaining it.”
Among the machines Da Vinci planned was an ornithopter, or craft with
arched wings which would flap like those of a bird; and a helicopter, or
apparatus in which revolving screws are used to draw it up into the
air. He devised mechanism by which a man might move two wings, shaped
like those of the bird, and thus imitate natural fight. These wings were
planned ingeniously, so that they would contract on the up-stroke and
expand when forced downward. In one of his notebooks, too, he made a
sketch of a helicopter machine which was to have a lifting propeller 96
feet in diameter, and to be built of iron with a bamboo framework. He
made paper helicopters, or whirling screws, and sent them spinning into
the air; and to him, also, was due the first suggestion for the use of a
parachute.
[Illustration: FIG. 2.--Besnier’s Apparatus.]
From this time, until the beginning of the nineteenth century, men still
strove to fly, but all of them failed to see a vital point: that they
must learn gradually to balance themselves in the air, even as the young
birds have to do. So those who were not killed were badly injured, and
those who persisted in experiments were looked upon either as madmen or
fools. Some, however, were not so foolish as they seemed. They brought
forward schemes so as to attract the attention of kings and those in
high places; and this was particularly the case in France, during the
reigns of Louis XIV. and Louis XV. But the notoriety they won was
short-lived. The day came when they needed to make good their
claims--when they were called upon to fly; and then they met death,
disablement, or disgrace, and were forgotten quickly. Of the devices
suggested many showed ingenuity; and some were quaint, in view of what
we know of flight to-day. In the machine, for instance, designed by an
experimenter named Besnier--who was a locksmith by trade--there were
four lifting planes, closing on the up-stroke and opening on the down,
and these the operator was to flap by the use of his hands and feet
(Fig. 2). A rather similar idea was suggested as long ago as 1744, by
the inventor De Bacqueville; his plan was to fix four planes or wings to
his hands and feet, and then propel himself through the air by vigorous
motions of his arms, and kickings of his legs (Fig. 3). He made a flight
from a balcony overlooking a river, but finished his trial ingloriously
by falling into a barge. Such schemes, indeed, were doomed to failure;
and they are only interesting because they show how, even in those
far-off days, men were ready to risk their lives in attempts to conquer
the air.
[Illustration: FIG. 3.--De Bacqueville (1744).]