There was a really good PBS show on them a decade or so ago. They showed the total arrogance of the French, who thought they owned aviation...and they showed the Wright Bros.
The course was simple, fly an oval. The difference was that the Wrights had perfected 3-axis control of the plane - the french were still at 2 axis (pitch and yaw, I think). The French plane skidded like mad - the Wright plane ran the course with perfectly banked turns.
The French immediately knew they had been both defeated and humiliated. It was beautiful.
Actually, the French immediately acknowledged the Wright's superior aeronautical achievement.
On 26 October 1907, Farman made a flight of 712 meters (2,350 feet) and won a second Archdeacon Cup. This was a prize that Ernest Archdeacon had offered to the aviator who made the longest flight during the year. On 19 November1907, Farman made a run at the Grand Prix de Aviation, the prize offered by Ernest Archdeacon and Henry Deutsch de la Meurthe for the first closed-circuit flight of over one kilometer. However, Farman didn't quite complete the circular course. Orville Wright, who was still in Europe, witnessed Farman's attempt. When asked by the reporters for a comment on the rapid progress of French aviation, he was cool and criticized the French airplane's control system only obliquely. "Time will show whether the methods of control used in the Farman machine are adequate to meet the conditions encountered in windy weather," he was quoted. Privately, he wrote to Chanute that the French were busy but "we see no indication of a practical machine in the near future."
Archdeacon, ever the Wright detractor, took affront at Orville's attitude. "The famous Wright brothers may claim all they wish," he blustered. "If it were true – and I doubt it more and more – that they were the first to fly through the air, they will not have the glory…The first authentic experiments in powered aviation have taken place in France; they will progress in France; and the…Wrights will, I am sure, be beaten by us as well before they will have decided to show their phantom machine."
On 13 January 1908, Farman took off again in pursuit of the Grand Prix de Aviation and its 50,000 franc purse. He made a flying start, crossing the starting poles about 13 feet (4 meters) off the ground. He flew straight out for about 1640 feet (500 meters), slowly climbing to 40 feet (12 meters), then made a wide, flat turn, using rudder alone to slide around the marker. He came back and made another flat turn, crossed the point at which he started, and landed gently. The entire flight lasted 28 seconds, and covered the prescribed kilometer. It didn't matter that his turns were clumsy and he was in constant danger of losing control of the Voison-Farman I. Henri Farman had won the most coveted prize in aviation, and for the moment – as far as the French were concerned – the Wright brothers were put in their place.
On Saturday, August 8, Wilbur Wright awoke to the day that he had awaited for almost three years. The sky was clear, the wind nearly still, and his steed was waiting. Later he wrote to Orville, "I thought it would be a good thing to do a little something."
A small crowd had gathered in the racetrack's grandstands, among them Bleriot and Archdeacon. Will was oblivious to them went as he went about the business of making the airplane ready. He hummed a little tune as he worked. Then, when the he was satisfied that the airplane was fit to fly, he climbed in the left seat. The engine sputtered to life, then died — Wilbur's back collar stud had caught on one of the wires. The stud was freed, the engine roared to life again, and without fanfare or ceremony, Wilbur Wright flew two complete figure-8s around the field.
The flight lasted less than two minutes. But the crowd was electrified. Those in the grandstands who were familiar with aviation knew what wonders they had seen. Wilbur had swept through four steeply banked turns as graceful as a hawk — there were none of the clumsy, dangerous flat turns that European aviators were making. Mr. Wright had control of his aircraft.
"I would have waited 10 ten times as long to see what I have seen today," said Bleriot. "Monsieur Wright has us all in his hands."
Archdeacon, one of the most vociferous critics of the Wrights, had to agree. "For too long, the Wright brothers have been accused of bluffing. They are hallowed today in France, and I feel an intense pleasure in counting myself among the first to make amends…"
Perhaps no one summed up the day so elegantly and succinctly as two small boys who sneaked in under the fence for a peek at the airplane. They grabbed their bicycles and raced back to Le Mans, shouting, "Il vole! He flies!"