The Dawn of Aviation

The Pivotal Role of Sussex People and Places in the Development of Flight

Roy Brooks

• Publisher: Air World
• Year: 2021
• ISBN:
  9781526786357
• Topic: Technology & Engineering
• Subtopic: Aviation
• Index: Technology & Engineering

Shoreham airport, founded in 1910, is the oldest airport in the UK and the oldest purpose-built commercial airport in the world. Yet aviation began in Sussex far earlier, with balloonists making landfall at Kingsfold near Horsham in 1785. These early activities attracted much attention, with some 30, 000 people gathering at Black Rock in Brighton, as well as on the surrounding hills, to watch the first balloon ascent from the town in July 1821 – using coal gas from the recently opened gas works. That particular balloonist, Charles Green, later became immortalized by Charles Dickens in his Sketches By Boz. The military were quick to appreciate the potential benefits of aerial observation and in 1880 balloons were deployed for the first time at the annual Volunteer Review at Brighton. Often wind conditions were not favorable for balloons, which prompted the army to consider employing kites and in June 1903 an international competition was held on the South Downs near Findon to see if kites could lift a man into the air. While this was found to be possible, it proved a terrifying experience for the unfortunate pilots. Before powered flight became a reality, it was gliders which were the first heavier than air machines to take to the skies. In 1902 Mr Jose Weiss began launching unmanned gliders off a ramp at Houghton Hill near Amberley, which flew up to two miles. But soon the internal combustion engine made powered, controlled flight a reality and on 7 November 1908, Alec Ogilvie flew a Wright Brothers biplane along the coast at Camber. By the time war broke out in 1914, the people of Sussex had seen the Brooklands to Brighton air race and the establishment of flying schools at Shoreham and Eastbourne. After the Armistice, aviation started becoming increasingly expensive and increasingly regulated. The halcyon days of swashbuckling amateurs taking to the skies in untested contraptions was drawing to a close.

Chapter 1

The Balloonatics

At about 5pm on Wednesday, 23 March 1785 the first aerial passengers descended by balloon in Sussex at Kingsfold near Horsham, having left London one hour earlier. Two hundred years later on a Saturday, some 8 miles away, 48,000 passengers passed through Gatwick Airport (transferred from Surrey to West Sussex under the 1974 County Boundary changes), and 434 aircraft took off or landed on its runway that day. The first successful hot air balloon flights had taken place in France some three years earlier than the one that ended in Sussex as a result of experiments by the Montgolfier brothers, Joseph and Etienne. As an aviation historian put it, the balloon was born ‘and most unexpectedly born, so to say out of a clear blue sky; and born without any prophecy or preamble’.

The news of the first manned flight by balloon appeared in the Sussex Weekly Advertiser for Wednesday, 15 December 1783 and gave the following details of this momentous occasion:

The following account of the late remarkable experiment made by Monsieur Montgolfier, is taken from a Verbal Process, that is, an Affidavit of several persons of distinction November 21 1783.

This afternoon Monsieur Montgolfier exhibited a new trial of his aerostatic machine at the Castle de La Mutte. The sky being clouded in some parts, and clear in others, the wind north-west, precisely eight minutes after midday, a mortar was fired as a signal that the machine was going to be filled. In eight minutes notwithstanding the wind it appeared unfolded at every point, and ready to go off, the Marquis d’Arlandes and M Pilâtre de Rozier, both being in the gallery annexed to it. The first intention was to make the machine rise, and at the same time hold with the ropes, for the purpose of examining the exact weight it was able to carry, and whether everything was properly contrived and arranged for the grand trial. But the machine being pushed off by the wind, far from rising vertically, took its own direction over one of the walks in the garden, and the several ropes that held it acting with too much resistance, occasioned several rents, one of which was more than six foot in length. Being brought back, they repaired it in less than two hours. It was filled a second time and set off fifty-four minutes after one, carrying the same persons. The machine was then seen to rise in quite a majestic manner, and when it reached an elevation of 250ft, the intrepid travellers, shaking their hats, saluted the spectators.

Our aerial navigators were soon out of sight, but the machine hovering on the horizon and displaying the noblest spectacle attained 3,000ft at least, where it remained in view. It crossed the Seine under the field gate of La Conference, and passed between the Ecole Militaire and the Hotel of the Invalids, so all of Paris had the opportunity of viewing it. The travellers, being satisfied with their experiment and unwilling to take a longer course, agreed amongst themselves to descend. But perceiving that the wind was carrying them on the houses of the street de Seve, in the suburb of Saint-Germain, with great presence of mind immediately unfolded more gas and rose again, pursuing their way, until they found themselves past the metropolis, in open fields. With the utmost tranquillity they came down, beyond the new bulwark, facing the mill of Coultebarbe, without having felt the slightest inconvenience and having still in their gallery, two thirds of their provisions. It is, therefore, evident, that it was in their power to go over a space three times greater than they did, their progress was from four to five thousand fathoms, that is 30,000ft and the time they employed from twenty to twenty-five minutes. The machine was 70ft high and 46ft in diameter; it contained 60,000 cubic feet and the weight it lifted amounted to sixteen or seventeen hundred pounds or thereabouts.

Done at the Castle de la Muttee at five o’clock in the afternoon.

(Signed) the Duke of Polignac, the Duke of Guinês, Count of Polastorn, Count of Vaudreuil, d’Hunand, Benjamin Franklin, Faujas de Saint Fond, Delisle and Lercy of the Academy of Sciences.

The signature of Benjamin Franklin, the American statesman, philosopher and scientist, who was touring Europe at the time, undoubtedly lent an air of verisimilitude to the whole affair. What the report did not mention was that the balloon had a large brazier suspended underneath, which the two aeronauts fed with straw throughout the voyage to keep the balloon aloft. The two had also providentially provided themselves with buckets of water and sponges on sticks to enable them to damp down the sparks that burnt holes in the balloon envelope and which had to be extinguished without delay.

This successful ascent was swiftly emulated by Jacques Alexander Cesar Charles, a promising young physicist from the French Academy of Science, with a companion on the first day of December. Their balloon was 28ft in diameter and filled with hydrogen, produced by the action of sulphuric acid on iron filings. The balloon was designed by Charles and had been given a great deal of thought. Its features were copied and became common to all balloons for many years. There was an open neck at the bottom of the envelope for filling and to allow the gas to escape in the reduced atmospheric pressure of high altitudes, or when the sun heated the envelope. The upper part of the balloon was held within cord netting and attached to a hoop from which the passenger car, made of wickerwork, was suspended. A valve was also fitted to the top of the balloon that could be operated from the basket to allow the aeronaut to release gas rapidly for a speedy return to earth.

Meanwhile in Britain, two Italians were following these events with keen interest – intent on repeating these French successes here. The first was Vincente Lunardi, who had already been in London for two years as the private and confidential secretary to the Prince of Caraminico, the Neapolitan Ambassador to the Court of St James. Lunardi was a handsome and personable figure, very vain with a mercurial temperament. He was a great favourite with the ladies and, with all his faults, an honest and brave man. His rival was Count Francesco Zambeccari, an indigent nobleman and sailor of fortune. Earlier he had been a lieutenant in the Spanish Navy, serving off the American coast and taking part in the capture of Pensacola. After some ill-advised remarks about the Spanish clergy, he roused the antagonism of the Inquisition. Given advice from friends to flee the country, he decamped on a French frigate from Havana sailing to the Cape. From there he made his way to France and then moved on to Britain to seek sanctuary. It was when he was passing through Paris that he became aware of the ballooning fever that was sweeping the capital and took the opportunity to learn something of the latest ballooning techniques.

On arrival in London, the Count stayed at the house of a fellow Italian, Michael Biaggini, who made and sold artificial flowers from his house in Noble Street, Cheapside. It was there that the pair made their first balloon of some 5ft diameter and attached a small box underneath with a note to the finder to return it and claim a reward of three guineas. Released on 1 November, it was found by a farmer near Waltham Abbey, Essex, and Zambeccari wrote to his father at the end of the month about the incident and the subsequent balloon that was released later, as follows:

The news of the extraordinary experiments being carried out with the sphere of M. Montgolfier prompted me to set about building one myself, and this I accomplished without difficulty. On the first of this month I succeeded in sending up a sphere, five feet in diameter, from the roof of a certain Biaggini, a trader in artificial flowers, who made a financial contribution to the experiment. Although this sphere was sent into the air with no witnesses to the event, and from a purely private location, some amazed person spotted it in the sky and by the next day the news had run through London. Spurred on by this interest I then built another sphere 10ft in diameter, in order to satisfy the curiosity of the public. I took great pains in the accomplishment of this task, and this unusual display took place at the Artillery Ground on 25 November attended by a dense crowd. The satisfaction gained on my part from this experiment was multiple … I first studied the fortifications which enable one to resist a powerful enemy and then applied them to aerial spheres; at the moment I am in the process of making one which has a diameter of 30ft. I hope this will be of assistance to me in carrying out what I am sure will be some extremely productive experiments; I would like to navigate it horizontally and steer in any direction I wish. For me, the most intense pleasure is the thought that this news will bring some measure of consolation and should alleviate the disappointments of the past.

It would seem Biaggini soon saw that ballooning had commercial possibilities because the second balloon was put on exhibition at the Lyceum in the Strand before its ascent, a charge of sixpence (2½p) being made to view it. Tickets were also sold from half-a-crown (12½p) upwards to view the filling of the balloon and its ascent.

The first public launching of the 10ft diameter balloon took place at one o’clock on Tuesday, 25 November 1783 before a large multitude, most of whom were non-paying spectators. Caught in a northerly air stream, it came down at Graffham, near Petworth, Sussex, after travelling some 48 miles. There is a story, probably apocryphal, that a Sussex farmer who found the balloon put it on display in his barn and charged his neighbours a penny each to satisfy their curiosity. No local account seems to have survived but a London paper reporting the event said that the balloon was carried the following morning, Wednesday, to Petworth. The only Sussex paper at the time, the Sussex Weekly Advertiser, reported in its issue of 8 December as follows:

The descent of the air balloon near Petworth, in this county, mentioned in the London papers, we presume needs confirmation, as one of the carriers of this paper was at that place on Wednesday morning last and did not hear a syllable on the matter.

By January 1784 Zambeccari was talking of building a man-carrying balloon of some 50ft diameter that would ascend from Hyde Park, but his attempts to raise the estimated £800 for its construction by public subscription failed. Zambeccari, realising that the project was impossible without incurring debts that he could not possibly repay, decided to return to France.

In the meantime, his arch rival Lunardi, who moved in more affluent circles and had also set up a public subscription to build a balloon, was having a great deal more success. By August his balloon was on show at the Lyceum. It was 34ft in diameter and made from 500 yards of oiled silk in alternate stripes of red and white. It was while at the Lyceum that he met his patron, George Biggen, a well-to-do amateur chemist and inventor of the coffee percolator, who, Lunardi agreed, should accompany him on his proposed balloon ascents. He had permission originally to make his first ascent from the grounds of Chelsea Hospital. This was cancelled because a certain mountebank, Chevalier de Moret, announced an earlier balloon ascent, which turned out to be a fiasco and led to a riot and much damage to nearby property.

As it turned out, ballooning proved to be a pursuit involving a great deal of risk, of which the actual ascent and subsequent descent could be the least of an aeronaut’s worries. In the first place, balloon ascents, whether advertised or not, attracted vast crowds, the great majority of whom paid nothing to view the balloon or the ascent. The authorities had little or no control over such large assemblies, and such crowds were not slow to show their displeasure. The generation of hydrogen gas, for example, was more often than not very much a hit and miss affair, and balloons were rarely ready for departure at the stated time. By then the spectators’ patience could have been worn thin amid mayhem, and the destruction of nearby property as well as the balloon with bodily violence against the balloonist was by no means unusual. So even in adverse weather, which could not always be anticipated, the aeronaut would often prefer to take his chance in the air rather than risk the displeasure of the crowd. These large gatherings also provided a field day for thieves and pickpockets, and a letter said to be from one of them was published in the Universal Register of 1785 (later to be retitled The Times). The following is an extract:

To the Worshipful Company of Balloon managers and High Flyers Etc., We the ancient and numerous society of pickpockets, freebooters etc., should be wanting in gratitude, did we not take an early opportunity of thankfully addressing you, our best friends, for the many benefits received from the weekly exertions you have made for your own profit and the public amusement. While thousands are looking up in astonishment at your cloud capped aerial vehicles, we are actively diving into their pockets for what is called the root of all evil, yet devoutly wished and prayed for by men of every descriptions. Your station, Gentlemen, enables you to look down on mankind, while gaping with admiration at the elevated extensive sphere in which you move. For the additions almost daily making to all balloon proprietors and adventurers in both kingdoms, we presage a happy increase in business of golden opportunities, for frequent filching, which shall be properly applied. Signed Legion for we are many.

An example of this was reported in the General Evening Post for 25–27 November 1783, when Zambeccari’s unmanned balloon ascended at Moorfields. A foreigner of distinction had his pocket picked of a purse containing a valuable diamond ring and some 40 guineas. The robbery was thought to have been committed by a genteel lady who spoken French fluently and asked the gentleman about the balloon.

However, the setback to Lunardi’s plans as to the place of his ascent turned out ultimately to his advantage. Some friends arranged for him to use the Artillery Ground at Moorfield, at a much-reduced fee to that payable to the Chelsea Hospital. The Lunardi ascent was made on 15 September, and he met all of the usual problems. Although his balloon was supposed to have been filled overnight, by one o’clock in the afternoon it was still not fully inflated. By then the Prince of Wales and his entourage had arrived to view the ascent, and the authorities, fearful for the safety of the Royal Personage in view of the vast multitude that had gathered, insisted that Lunardi ascend without further delay. So, at two o’clock, with the balloon only two-thirds full, Lunardi had to abandon Biggen and, taking his place in the basket, rose into the air somewhat to the surprise of most of the crowd, who had been looking forward to a fiasco and a riot. They comforted themselves, however, with the thought that Lunardi was unlikely to ever be seen again, and cheered lustily as the balloon climbed into the sky. The Prince of Wales and the gentlemen present also removed their hats as a sign of respect.

In fact, of course, the Lunardi voyage was a great success and one hour later he came down at South Mimms. Lighting the balloon, he re-ascended to land later at Standen, near Ware. He had a triumphal return to London, was presented to the Prince of Wales and was lionised as the first man to fly in England. His balloon was again exhibited in Oxford Street and had a constant flow of visitors. With this money and various testimonials, Lunardi was able to meet all his debts and still make a handsome profit, said to be between £2,000 to £4,000, a not inconsiderable sum at that time.

The news of the ascent seems to have lured Zambeccari to return to England and resume his attempt to build his own balloon, even if Lunardi had stolen his thunder. By now interest in ballooning was blossoming, with Lunardi bonnets and even, for the daring, Lunardi garters. This time Zambeccari was successful in obtaining the funds he needed, mainly from noble patronage. He built a 34ft diameter balloon with an 11ft car to hold three passengers, and gave it the name of the ‘British Air Balloon’. It was completed before the New Year and in January the Count inserted a notice in the London press, saying it was his intention to ascend with a ‘Gentleman of the first distinction’ and if such a daring creature could be found, a lady. This was also the month that the French balloonist Blanchard and his patron, the American Dr Jefferies, crossed the Channel from Dover. They only finally succeeded in the enterprise by throwing all loose items overboard to keep above the waves. At the end they had to cast their clothes on the waters before finally making landfall near Calais.

In the following month the ‘British Balloon’ was exhibited in the Lyceum from 9am to 10pm, with an admission charge of one shilling (5p). The gentleman who was originally supposed to accompany the Count, according to the press was a General Vaughan but this was later changed to Rear Admiral Edward Vernon. A non-returnable fee of 300 guineas was paid by the admiral for the privilege of being the first naval man to ascend in a balloon. Said to suffer, from one newspaper account, from a ‘weakness of the nerves’, the admiral was sixty-two years old and perhaps not an ideal companion for such an enterprise. The Count’s scheme for squiring a lady aloft produced no applicant until the eve of the ascent, when a Miss Grist, who had worked for a tambour maker in Fleet Street, applied and was accepted. The ascent had been fixed for 23 March from what was described as a cheap bread warehouse on Tottenham Court Road. The weather was abominable, with sleet, snow and rain. Nevertheless, the streets around the building were soon jammed with sightseers and although Zambeccari had extolled his new apparatus for producing hydrogen, inflation was still painfully slow. It started at eleven o’clock, and four hours later the balloon was still less than half full. During this time the strong winds had damaged the balloon netting, and many spectators were convinced that the ascent would have to be postponed.

There, is, however, another letter from Zambeccari to his father dated 10 April 1785 telling him about the voyage:

On the 23 of last March, the public was informed my balloon would be leaving in one hour after midday. It was thirty-four feet in diameter and made of painted taffeta covered with a large net of silk cord which hung from an extremely light gondola, eleven feet long by four feet at its widest point and richly decorated with silk trimmings and gold bows. This gondola was to carry Admiral Vernon and myself. But that day a very strong wind combined with the cold weather split some of the fabric and the net was partly torn, so at 4pm the balloon was only half inflated. However, it had enough force to resolve me to leave, so as to avoid the impatient mob, and restore a source of boredom for the numerous noble spectators. It was then that I entered the gondola, the Admiral followed me as well as a young Englishwoman who was very keen to fly. But my balloon, being overloaded by a few pounds, lifted and lowered itself successively, much to the regret of the pretty lady who was obliged to leave. Then, to the cheers of the many thousands of people, the machine lightened by some 100lbs and a further ten I threw from the sandbag, we rose rapidly with the force of the same weight, almost vertically in spite of the wind. In a few minutes it disappeared from the spectators’ view and they searched for me with telescopes to no avail as we had risen, according to the barometer, to an altitude of...