flew first towards Sangatte in a westerly direction parallel to the coast. He then circled inland, and passing near the old Castle completed a circuit of about 1½ miles. Continuing, he made a larger sweep the second time, which must have been nearly 2 miles in length, and on the completion of this he brought the machine gently to the ground, without the slightest shock or bump, approximately 250 yards from the spot where he had started. The duration of this flight was exactly six minutes, and I judged his average height to be 40 feet above the ground. He then declared his intention of starting in a few moments in a westerly direction as before, circling to the right, and making the best of his way for the English coast, hoping to land anywhere round about Dover, without tying himself to any definite spot. The lightest breeze imaginable could now be felt from the south-west, the course to Dover being north-west by west.
At 4.41 (French time) the engine was again started. The monoplane rose almost immediately, flew half a mile towards Sangatte, then turned to the right and, passing over the sand-hills, crossed the coast line exactly at 4.42, just a hundred yards from where I had taken up the highest position obtainable. The destroyer Escopette (which with two torpedo-boats had been lying off Baraques for an hour or more) was signalled to by a sailor standing beside me, and shaped a course for Dover, but the aeroplane had passed her and had gone rather to the left before the war vessel could gather speed. Through my telescope I was able to watch the tiny craft long after she passed from the view of those around me, and after five minutes I noticed that she made a sudden turn to the left, and seemed to proceed for nearly a mile on a south-west course; after this she again headed for Dover, the height above the sea being, I imagine, 250 feet at most. For 11 minutes I kept her in view, till at last she faded away in the distant misty atmosphere. The destroyer meanwhile was vomiting forth a black column of smoke some three miles to the northward, apparently with no likelihood of overtaking the aviator if he could proceed without mishap to the English shore.
A general stampede was now made for motor-cars, cabs, and bicycles waiting in the road, in order to hurry to the Channel Tunnel works beyond Sangatte, where the wireless telegraphy apparatus was sure to be the first medium for news from England as to the aviator’s progress.
At 5.50 the first wireless message from Dover was received, but it was merely a rumour to the effect that an aeroplane had been sighted. Ten minutes later, however, a second message arrived, stating officially that M. Bleriot had descended in a meadow near Dover Castle, and the announcement was greeted with enthusiastic cheers.
The Frenchman Louis Blériot, then 37, had invested the money he had made from designing the first headlamps for cars into his passion for aviation. This was still in its earliest years and it was Blériot who built the first monoplane and devised the use of a joystick and pedals to control the flight of an aircraft.
The Daily Mail had offered a £1,000 prize to the first pilot to cross the Channel, but most people – including the Wright Brothers – considered the venture impossible or too risky. Nevertheless, a crowd of 10,000 gathered to watch Blériot take off near the workings of the late-nineteenth century project to dig a Channel Tunnel.
Blériot, limping from burns suffered on a previous flight, took 36 minutes to fly the 22 miles (35 kilometres) to Dover at an average speed of 45 mph. He briefly lost sight of the Kent coast when the visibility dipped but otherwise the journey was uneventful.
Subsequently, he set up a business manufacturing aircraft, including during the First World War. In 1927, Blériot greeted Charles Lindbergh when the American touched down on French soil after becoming the first person to fly solo across the Atlantic. (See Lindbergh.)
1 August 1910
I have just returned from the steamship Montrose and witnessed the drama that was enacted on her deck.
Inspector Dew, of Scotland Yard, with Chief Constable McCarthy and ex-Chief Constable Denis, of the Canadian Provincial Police – all three disguised as pilots with blue suits and white caps – went off to the Montrose at 8.30 a.m. in a lifeboat rowed by four sailors. “Dr.” Crippen was smoking and promenading the deck with Miss Le Neve and Dr. Stuart, the ship’s surgeon. He asked the doctor why so many pilots should come, to which Dr. Stuart replied – “They are probably returning to their homes, being out of turn.” The supposed pilots went on board and walked along until they passed the spot where Crippen and Miss Le Neve were standing with Dr. Stuart. Then as Inspector Dew got a good, quick look at Crippen and the girl, he gave the preconcerted signal, and the constables made the arrest and took the couple down to separate state-rooms, where they are now confined.
Only 15 minutes elapsed from the time the constables went on board until the arrests were effected. Crippen turned the colour of death, and his voice gurgled some unintelligible sound as he was hurried below. Miss Le Neve became hysterical and fainted.
The signal agreed upon was then blown by the Montrose’s whistle for the pilot steam tender Eureka to come alongside to permit the Press representatives and Press photographers to board the Montrose and proceed in her to Quebec, where she will arrive about 9 o’clock to-night. This had been arranged between Inspector Dew and the Press for fear that the appearance of a large number of people might alarm the fugitives and that Crippen might defeat the law by committing suicide. The Eureka stayed only a few minutes alongside the Montrose, and then returned to Father Point wharf with this despatch.
The discovery of human remains beneath the basement of the London home of the homeopath Dr Hawley Crippen triggered a manhunt that mesmerized newspaper readers in July 1910, even as the object of the search remained oblivious to the net closing on him.
Crippen’s wife Cora had vanished in January, but his explanations apparently satisfied the police. He panicked, however, and with his mistress Ethel Le Neve disguised as a boy took ship for Canada. The captain recognized the fugitive and, in a decisive use of new technology, transmitted a message by wireless telegraphy alerting the authorities in Britain.
His progress tracked by journalists, Chief Inspector Walter Dew boarded a faster liner and was waiting when Crippen’s ship entered the St Lawrence River. Crippen’s arrest seemed to signal that criminals could no longer flee beyond the reach of the police. He was brought back to London, tried at the Old Bailey and hanged for his wife’s murder.
8 February 1912
The terms for the treatment of the Manchus after abdication, agreed to in Peking by the Empress-Dowager and Princes and the Cabinet, and telegraphed to Nanking for the approval of the Republican Cabinet, have been returned with certain modifications, and were today communicated to the Palace for final approval. The modifications are so reasonable and the terms so liberal that agreement on this question is now assured.
The terms, as modified, provide specially for the insertion of the words “after his abdication” wherever reference is made in the articles to the Emperor, who is to be known as the Manchu Emperor. The Emperor is to reside first in the Forbidden City and eventually in the Summer Palace, and is to be accorded honours such as are given to a foreign Sovereign visiting China – that is, the Chinese, after his abdication, not being his subjects, will show him due courtesy, not fealty and obedience.
After his abdication, the Manchu Emperor will receive an annual grant of $4,000,000, not taels [Chinese currency]. The explanation ingeniously
