llowers dwelt,
and from there it hurled down upon the city missiles that destroyed
everything on which they fell.' Here is pure fable, not legend, but
still a curious forecast of twentieth century bombs from a rigid
dirigible. It is to be noted in this case, as in many, that the power to
fly was an attribute of evil, not of good--it was the demons who built
the chariot, even as at Friedrichshavn. Mediaeval legend in nearly
every case, attributes flight to the aid of evil powers, and incites
well-disposed people to stick to the solid earth--though, curiously
enough, the pioneers of medieval times were very largely of priestly
type, as witness the monk of Malmesbury.

The legends of the dawn of history, however, distribute the power of
flight with less of prejudice. Egyptian sculpture gives the figure
of winged men; the British Museum has made the winged Assyrian bulls
familiar to many, and both the cuneiform records of Assyria and the
hieroglyphs of Egypt record flights that in reality were never made.
The desire fathered the story then, and until Clement Ader either hopped
with his Avion, as is persisted by his critics, or flew, as is claimed
by his friends.

While the origin of many legends is questionable, that of others is
easy enough to trace, though not to prove. Among the credulous the
significance of the name of a people of Asia Minor, the Capnobates,
'those who travel by smoke,' gave rise to the assertion that Montgolfier
was not first in the field--or rather in the air--since surely this
people must have been responsible for the first hot-air balloons. Far
less questionable is the legend of Icarus, for here it is possible
to trace a foundation of fact in the story. Such a tribe as Daedalus
governed could have had hardly any knowledge of the rudiments of
science, and even their ruler, seeing how easy it is for birds to
sustain themselves in the air, might be excused for believing that he,
if he fashioned wings for himself, could use them. In that belief, let
it be assumed, Daedalus made his wings; the boy, Icarus, learning that
his father had determined on an attempt at flight secured the wings and
fastened them to his own shoulders. A cliff seemed the likeliest place
for a 'take-off,' and Icarus leaped from the cliff edge only to find
that the possession of wings was not enough to assure flight to a human
being. The sea that to this day bears his name witnesses that he made
the attempt and perished by it.