The largest books in the world.

There are many records set by books. We know about the thickest and longest books, books with record-breaking circulation and the largest books in the world. Some of them are initially published with the goal of becoming the very best.

Longest books

It should be noted that it is difficult to imagine a person who would devote years of his life to creating an actually long book. Usually writers strive to convey the meaning of their work, even the longest of all, with the depth of words and thoughts.

"People of Goodwill"

Spirituality, criminality, poverty, wealth, culture and politics can be found in the novel. In twenty-seven volumes, the author described the lives of four hundred heroes, touching on events from 1908 to 1933. Unfortunately, the literary world did not accept this work quite as the author desired. After the publication of the novel, it was subjected to severe criticism. The idea was expressed that the author distorted the events of that time, misunderstanding history.

"Fantastic"

The book was made from papyrus and wound around a pole. The record was registered by one of the notaries of the city of Castello. It includes eleven fairy tales, the main idea of ​​which is poverty and wealth.

The thickest books

Another record-breaking book is the world's thickest edition about Miss Marple, printed in the form of a complete collection of works. The works of Agatha Christie, collected in one book, fit on four thousand thirty-two pages. The spine width of this edition is three hundred and twenty-two millimeters, and the weight is eight kilograms. Despite the fact that such a gigantic book is most likely unsuitable for reading, it was published in the amount of five hundred copies.

Books with the largest circulation

Another book whose circulation can easily be called one of the largest is the quote book of Mao Zedong. Its circulation is one billion copies. Usually this book is published with a red cover, for which in Western countries the quotation book is often called the “Little Red Book”.

John Tolkien's book, written in the fantasy genre, The Lord of the Rings, which is in third place, lags significantly behind in terms of circulation. Its circulation is one hundred million copies. The circulation of a book called “The American Spelling Book” and the “Guinness Book of Records”, which are in fourth and fifth place in the ranking of books with the largest circulation, are approximately the same.

Sixth place in the ranking is occupied by the World Yearbook with a circulation of eighty million copies, and seventh place by the McGuffey Anthology of Children's Reading. The circulation of this book is sixty million copies. The book “Basics of Child Care” was published in a circulation of fifty million copies. “The Da Vinci Code” took ninth place in the rating with a circulation of forty-three million, and in tenth place of honor is the work of Elbert Hubbard with a circulation of forty million. Its title is “Message to Garcia.”

The largest book in the world

To print one book, you need to spend a roll of paper, the length of which is comparable to the length of a football field. The technology for printing this book was invented and developed by Michael Hawley, a researcher at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Anyone can order the book by paying thirty thousand dollars.

There are other amazing books. For example, the most expensive volume of poetry was the publication of Edgar Allan Poe’s book “Tamerlane and Other Poems.” .
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The popular concept of free will is based on two statements:

1. Each of us can behave differently than we behaved in the past.
2. We are the conscious source of most of our thoughts and actions in the present.

Unconscious sources of will

We are aware of only a small part of the information that our brain processes. Although we constantly notice changes in our experiences - in thoughts, moods, behavior and so on - we are completely unaware of the neurophysiological events that create them. In fact, we are poor witnesses to our experiences. By looking at your face or listening to the tone of your voice, others can often learn more about your state of mind and your motives than you can.

There will always be some lag between the initial neurophysiological events that give rise to the next conscious thought and the thought itself. What will my state of mind be like in a minute? I don't know - it just happens. Where is the freedom in this?

Imagine an experiment: a control group of experimenters watches a recording of mental processes occurring in your brain, along with videos of the associated behavior. As a result, experimenters know what you will think and do even before you do it. You will continue to feel free in every moment, but the fact that someone can foresee your thoughts and actions turns your sense of free will into an illusion.

The author acknowledges that the arguments he assembles against free will do not involve philosophical materialism - the assumption that reality is fundamentally purely physical. There is no doubt that most, if not all, processes occurring in your consciousness are the result of physical events. The brain is a physical system that is completely dependent on the laws of nature, and this alone suggests that changes in its functional state and material structure determine our thoughts and actions. But even if the human mind is based on the soul, nothing will change in the author's arguments. The unconscious actions of your soul give you no more freedom than the unconscious physiology of your brain.

Our sense of freedom is misjudged: we do not know what we intend to do until the intention arises. To understand this, we need to realize that we are not the authors of our thoughts and actions in the sense that people usually assume.

The idea of ​​free will comes from sensory experience. However, it is very easy to lose sight of this psychological truth when we start talking about philosophy. In the philosophical literature one can find three main approaches to the problem: determinism, libertarianism and compatibilism. Determinism and libertarianism are based on the idea that free will is an illusion unless the underlying causes of our behavior are fully determined.

The only acceptable philosophical approach today that affirms the existence of free will is compatibilism, but we know that determinism regarding human behavior is true. Unconscious events in the nervous system determine our thoughts and actions, and these are themselves determined by antecedent events of which we are subjectively unaware. However, compatibilists' "free will" is not what most people understand.

People have many conflicting desires. You're eager to quit smoking, but you're also craving your next cigarette. You're struggling to save money, but you're also tempted by the idea of ​​buying a new computer. Where is the freedom when one of these opposing desires inexplicably wins over the other?

How can we be “free” as conscious agents if everything we consciously do is a consequence of events happening in our brains that we cannot plan for and of which we are completely unaware?

Cause and effect

From the perspective of conventional views on the possibility of human influence and existing morality, it seems that our actions cannot be products of our biology, the state in which we find ourselves, or anything else that might allow others to predict our actions.

As a result, some scientists and philosophers hope that randomness or quantum uncertainty may make free will possible.

Choice, effort, intentions

If you pay attention to your inner life, you will see that the emergence of choices, efforts and intentions is a mysterious process. Yes, you can do what you want, but you cannot ignore the fact that your desires turn out to be effective in one case and ineffective in another, and you certainly cannot predict in advance which of your desires will be realized.

You've been wanting to lose weight for years, but you only get around to it at a certain point. At the same time, you did not determine which path you should follow - go on a diet or not, and on which day to do it. You are not in control of your own mind because you, as a self-aware subject, are only a part of the mind, living at the mercy of other parts. You can carry out your decisions, but you will not be able to predict what exactly you will decide to do.

The author does not mean to suggest that willpower is not important at all or that it will always be broken by the underlying biology of your usual behavior. Willpower itself is a biological phenomenon. After thinking about this topic, most people come to the conclusion that our freedom lies in action, and this often means choosing long-term goals over short-term desires. This is definitely an ability that humans possess to a greater or lesser extent and which is not inherent in animals, but nevertheless the roots of this ability are in the unconscious. What I will do next and why remains a mystery, which is completely predetermined by the previous state of the Universe and the laws of nature, including the contribution of chance.

One of the most recent ideas comes from existentialism - perhaps it is the only useful one from this entire movement. The idea is that we are free to interpret the meaning of our lives. You may view your first marriage that ended in divorce as a “failure,” or you may view it as a circumstance that contributed to your growth and was essential to your future happiness. Different attitudes to the problem will lead to different consequences. Some thoughts lead to depression and disappointment, others inspire us.

Let's think for a moment about the context in which our decisions arise. You do not choose your parents, the time and place of your birth. You don't choose your gender and most of your life experiences. You have absolutely no control over your genome or the development of your brain. And now your brain makes choices based on the preferences and beliefs that have been drilled into it throughout your life by your genes, your physical development since conception, and the interactions you have had with other people, events, and ideas. Is there free will in this? Yes, you are free to do what you want, even now. But where do your desires come from?

Could the truth be bitter?

Knowing (or emphasizing) certain truths about the human mind can have bad psychological and/or cultural consequences. However, the author does not think that the publication of this book will cause a decline in morality among readers.

By becoming more sensitive to the underlying causes of his thoughts and feelings, a person, paradoxically, is capable of greater creative control over his life.

Moral responsibility

The U.S. Supreme Court calls free will the “universal and immutable” basis for our legal system, distinct from a deterministic view of human behavior that is inconsistent with the foundations of our criminal justice system. Any intellectual development that threatens free will will call into question the ethics of the practice of punishing people for their bad behavior.

It seems clear that the desire for retribution is based on the idea that each person is the free author of his thoughts and actions. This idea is based on a cognitive and emotional illusion, and this desire is perpetuated by morality.

The book is 1856 meters long

When asking which book is the longest, we primarily think about word length, not physical length. Although, for example, in the city of Castello, residents created the longest book in the world - 1856 meters. It was designed in the form of a huge papyrus scroll, which was carefully wound around a pole. As a result, 11 fairy tales were included in this creation. However, even with all the merits of the authors of the above-mentioned record, they are unlikely to have devoted their entire lives to this idea. Because the length of the word itself, and sometimes “depth”, is a more labor-intensive and serious quantity.

Jules Romain

It was Jules Romain who became the author of the longest work in the world. Its length in terms of the number of printed words (it’s hard to even imagine) exceeds 2 million! And the page index itself, measuring 50 sheets, causes a very mixed reaction. The novel is called “People of Goodwill” (Les Hommes de bonne volonte) and is composed of 27 volumes; the book was written over 14 years - from 1932 to 1946.

In the preface of his long creative marathon, the author questioned the structure of writing Balzac's masterpieces such as Proust and Roland. Because he considered the “mechanistic” idea of ​​writing multi-volume novels, where the whole is revealed through an individual personality, unacceptable. That is, Jules Romain himself, publishing his first volume back in 1932, was confident in the idea of ​​the chaotic and disorderly plot and the lives of all his characters (there were about 400 of them in “People of Good Will”).

Poverty, politics and culture

The longest book really has it all: criminality and spirituality, wealth and poverty, politics and culture. Moreover, of course, all events are supported by the ideas of history of that time. In general, the novel told about the events of 1908-1933. With this work, the author rather tried to help understand all the vicissitudes of the time of crisis that the French people faced. However, Jules Romain did not shy away from writing articles and essays on various scientific, political and literary topics - he was known as an erudite person.

However, the novel itself was subsequently subjected to harsh criticism. The literary world did not accept the work the way the creator wanted. The prosecution prescribed this work as a distorted statement of facts. Jules Romain has been criticized for misunderstanding history. Therefore, if you are ready to justify the writer, even in the 21st century, then start reading the longest book in the world.

Jules Romain

Sixth of October

The first part of the tetralogy "People of Good Will"

PARIS GOES TO WORK ON A CLEAR MORNING

The month of October 1908 remains memorable to meteorologists for its unprecedentedly beautiful weather. Government officials have shorter memories. Otherwise, they would have fondly remembered this same month of October, because it almost brought with it, six years ahead of schedule, a world war with all the excitement, excitement and all sorts of reasons to distinguish themselves that such a war generously gives to people of their craft.

Already the end of September was amazing. On the 29th, the thermometer showed the average temperature for the height of summer. Since then, warm south-easterly winds have persisted throughout. The sky remained cloudless, the sun was hot. The barometer stood at 770.

On the morning of October 6th, those Parisians who get up early came to the windows, curious to know whether this incredible autumn was still setting records. It was felt that the day had come a little later, but it was just as cheerful and friendly as yesterday. The sky was as hazy as the finest summer morning. The courtyards of the houses, with trembling walls and glass, sounded with light. This made the usual noise of the city seem clearer and more joyful. In the dark apartments on the first floor it seemed as if you were living in a seaside city, where the hum from the sun-drenched coast spreads and penetrates into the tightest alleys.

The men shaving in front of the windows wanted to sing and whistle. The girls, combing their hair and powdering their hair, enjoyed the music of the romances that rang in their souls.

The streets were full of pedestrians. “I don’t take the subway in this weather.” Even the buses looked like empty cages.

It was still cooler than the day before. Walking past pharmacies, still closed, people looked at large enamel thermometers. Only eleven degrees. Three less than at the same hour yesterday. Almost no one was wearing a coat. The workers came out without woolen vests under their blouses.

Somewhat worried passers-by looked in the sky for signs of a more drastic change, evidence of the imminent end of this kind addition to the summer.

But the sky remained incomprehensibly clear. However, the Parisians did not know how to question him. They didn’t even notice that during the night the direction of the smoke had changed slightly and that the wind from the east-southeast had clearly turned north.

Myriads of people flocked to the center. Many crews rushed there. But others, in almost the same number - carts, hired carriages, carts - were heading to the periphery, rolling through the outskirts, through the suburbs.

The sidewalks, no longer washed by the rain, were covered with dust as fine as ash. There was a lot of dry manure and straws packed between the cobblestones. With each blow, the rubbish flew into the air. Bad fumes wafted from the river, where the water was low, and from the sewers.

People read newspapers as they walked. And just at that moment, when they raised their feet over the puddle and smelled the languidly sickening smell, they caught their eyes on a note entitled: “Parisian sewage.”

“The stagnant black waters of the Seine are simply fields of irrigation. The streets are not watered, they are hardly swept; Indescribable aromas emanate from the basements, and the sewer system, this ingenious system, having become spoiled and upset, works so poorly that it stimulates general infection, epidemics, and also, shall I say this terrible word? - cholera..."

Yes, should I say it? For several weeks now, cholera has been raging in St. Petersburg. True, the newspapers have just reported news that is more or less reassuring: the number of new diseases has dropped to 141, deaths have dropped to 72. And they say that the borders are strictly guarded. But how can customs guards fight germs? This modest figure for St. Petersburg mortality forms an unpleasant combination with the smell of Parisian sewage.

And besides, much closer, in Rabat, a mysterious epidemic began, as they say - either the plague or yellow fever. Positively, you won't get into trouble with Morocco. Some soldier, going on leave, will probably manage to bring the plague here, and it will immediately take root here because of this truly African October. We should definitely stop holidays in Morocco and everywhere else. Three days ago the matter with the German deserters in Casablanca took a bad turn, but this morning they write that Bulgaria declared its independence yesterday, October 5, and Austria is talking about annexing Bosnia-Herzegovina. “Historic day” - newspapers print in the headline. Thus, yesterday, October 5th, we passed through a historic day. True, aside. This time we were somewhere completely on the edge of history. But evil fate will probably want to push us into the very thick of it sooner or later. But how can this be? Bulgaria was therefore not independent? What did they teach us at school? Distant memories.

Paris lies gently on the hills on both sides of the river. He winces. The crowd flocks to the center. In the early morning it flows mainly from the western slopes and heights: jackets, work blouses, corduroy pants and jackets, caps everywhere. The old people read the article by Jaurès with importance. This morning Jaurès is moderate, prudent, peaceful. He protects the Turks. Regrets the shamelessness of the Bulgarians and Austrians. He fears that the Greeks, Serbs and Italians will follow their example. Calls them to prudence. Middle-aged comrades are interested in the report on the first meeting of the General Confederation of Labor in Marseille. In the crush, trying not to bump into a stall, a lantern or the broad back of a woman selling vegetables, they laugh to themselves at the butads of Citizen Pato. Once again the bourgeois gentlemen will become afraid.

And young workers, apprentices, errand boys (“Looking for an errand boy with a recommendation from their parents”), are captivated by the exploits of the aviators, especially Wright.

Read? “Wriit” lifted a young man weighing 108 kilos and made two circles?

Four days earlier, on Friday, October 2, Wright set a distance record. It flew 60.6 kilometers and stayed in the air for 1 hour 31 meters 25 seconds, circling around two pillars. Farman set a speed record. It reached 52.704 kilometers per hour, circling in the same manner. The next day, October 3, Wright managed to stay in the air for about an hour with a passenger; and the passenger, Franz Reschel, published in Le Figaro a description of his impressions, which was reprinted by almost all the newspapers, even the militant organs of the extreme left. But Mr. Reshel's impressions were truly fascinating. He described the strange, wonderful dizziness that befell him when he felt himself gliding at a height of more than 10 meters above the ground. He was surprised to note that, despite the speed of 60 kilometers per hour, he did not have to squint. By the end of the test, Mr. Reschel could not control his excitement. His heart trembled, tears flowed from his eyes.

The apprentices and young comrades found that Mr. Reshel had a weak heart. But there were, of course, the opinion that the future of aviation is unlimited, that its progress will be stunning. Everyone was just complaining that Paris had become terribly cramped. The construction work of the metro, which gradually spread a kind of fortification everywhere from boards and earth, with artillery of cranes, completely cluttered the streets and blocked intersections. And at the same time, this tunneling undermined the soil in all directions and threatened Paris with failure. (On the same October 3, part of the courtyard in the Cité barracks collapsed onto the Chatelet-Orléans metro gallery under construction, and the horse of one municipal guardsman suddenly disappeared into the abyss.) So, a few months or a few weeks earlier, in March or even July 1908, it was still possible to understand that engineers were fussing and exposing people to such dangers because of the wormholes of the subway; but really, on October 6, in this autumn, when aviation was ripening like a wonderful fruit, one could not help but wonder whether it was still worth burying so many millions and even horses of municipal guardsmen in underground canals, while it was obvious that in 1918, not later, a good half of Parisian street traffic would be carried out in airplanes at an altitude of 10 or 20 meters.

In the morning hours there was a kind of rotation in this huge influx from the periphery to the center. Starting from eight in the morning, the main mass was no longer coming from the east, but from the north-east side of the city, or rather even from the north. The rotation then continued from north to northwest. The beginning of the movement seemed to move, like a halo carried by the wind, from Montmartre to Batignolles, from Batignolles to Ternes. The same thing was observed symmetrically in the south, where the main influx, first directed from Javel and Vaugirard, then sought to descend along the Rue Rennes and the Boulevard Saint-Michel.

At the same time, the appearance of the crowd and its interests changed. Office workers and officials appeared in suit jackets. Jackets were then worn with narrow and slightly rounded lapels. Three buttons. The vest, very high, could be colorful, especially in this beautiful autumn. The collar is starched, double, very high. Ties with a ready-made knot were still very common back then. Such a tie always seemed to have come loose and was accidentally hanging on a cufflink. There were also many bow ties and quite a few plastrons. The longitudinal fold on the trousers was often missing. The margin at the bottom, simulating lapels, was considered a somewhat frivolous dandy or fashion for young people. The bowler hat was apparently inseparable from the elegant suit. Felt hats, with lowered brims and a bow at the back of the head, or very soft ones, a la Clemenceau, with a very narrow ribbon, as well as wide-brimmed ones of various styles, were favored by gentlemen with freer habits. But many wore out their straw hats, boaters or Panama hats.

Jules Romain.

Sixth of October

Jules Romain

Sixth of October

Translation by I. Mandelstam

Romain Jules. Collected works: In 4 volumes.

T. 4. Book. 1: People of Good Will: Sixth of October. The Crime of Kinet: Novels /

Translation from French by I. Mandelstam, M. Levberg. – M.: TERRA. 1994

Mandelstam Isai Benediktovich

PARIS GOES TO WORK ON A CLEAR MORNING

The month of October 1908 remains memorable to meteorologists for its unprecedentedly beautiful weather. Government officials have shorter memories. Otherwise, they would have fondly remembered this same month of October, because it almost brought with it, six years ahead of schedule, a world war with all the excitement, excitement and all sorts of reasons to distinguish themselves that such a war generously gives to people of their craft.

Already the end of September was amazing. On the 29th, the thermometer showed the average temperature for the height of summer. Since then, warm south-easterly winds have persisted throughout. The sky remained cloudless, the sun was hot. The barometer stood at 770.

On the morning of October 6th, those Parisians who get up early came to the windows, curious to know whether this incredible autumn was still setting records. It was felt that the day had come a little later, but it was just as cheerful and friendly as yesterday. The sky was as hazy as the finest summer morning. The courtyards of the houses, with trembling walls and glass, sounded with light. This made the usual noise of the city seem clearer and more joyful. In the dark apartments on the first floor it seemed as if you were living in a seaside city, where the hum from the sun-drenched coast spreads and penetrates into the tightest alleys.

The men shaving in front of the windows wanted to sing and whistle. The girls, combing their hair and powdering their hair, enjoyed the music of the romances that rang in their souls.

The streets were full of pedestrians. “I don’t take the subway in this weather.” Even the buses looked like empty cages.

It was still cooler than the day before. Walking past pharmacies, still closed, people looked at large enamel thermometers. Only eleven degrees. Three less than at the same hour yesterday. Almost no one was wearing a coat. The workers came out without woolen vests under their blouses.

Somewhat worried passers-by looked in the sky for signs of a more drastic change, evidence of the imminent end of this kind addition to the summer.

But the sky remained incomprehensibly clear. However, the Parisians did not know how to question him. They didn’t even notice that during the night the direction of the smoke had changed slightly and that the wind from the east-southeast had clearly turned north.

Myriads of people flocked to the center. Many crews rushed there. But others, in almost the same number - carts, hired carriages, carts - were heading towards the periphery, rolling through the outskirts, through the suburbs.

The sidewalks, no longer washed by the rain, were covered with dust as fine as ash. There was a lot of dry manure and straws packed between the cobblestones. With each blow, the rubbish flew into the air. Bad fumes wafted from the river, where the water was low, and from the sewers.

People read newspapers as they walked. And just at that moment, when they lifted their foot over the puddle and smelled the languidly sickening smell, they caught their eye on a note entitled: “Parisian sewage.”

“The standing black waters of the Seine are just irrigation fields. The streets are not watered, they are almost not swept; indescribable aromas emanate from the basements, and the sewer system, this ingenious system, having deteriorated and become disordered, works so poorly that it stimulates general infection, epidemics, and also, should I say this terrible word? - cholera..."

Yes, should I say it? For several weeks now, cholera has been raging in St. Petersburg. True, the newspapers have just reported news that is more or less reassuring: the number of new diseases has dropped to 141, deaths have dropped to 72. And they say that the borders are strictly guarded. But how can customs guards fight germs? This modest figure for St. Petersburg mortality forms an unpleasant combination with the smell of Parisian sewage.

And besides, much closer, in Rabat, a mysterious epidemic began, as they say - either the plague or yellow fever. Positively, you won't get into trouble with Morocco. Some soldier, going on leave, will probably manage to bring the plague here, and it will immediately take root here because of this truly African October. We should definitely stop holidays in Morocco and everywhere else. Three days ago the matter with the German deserters in Casablanca took a bad turn, but this morning they write that Bulgaria declared its independence yesterday, October 5, and Austria is talking about annexing Bosnia-Herzegovina. “Historic day” - the newspapers print in the headline. Thus, yesterday, October 5th, we passed through a historic day. True, aside. This time we were somewhere completely on the edge of history. But evil fate will probably want to push us into the very thick of it sooner or later. But how can this be? Bulgaria was therefore not independent? What did they teach us at school? Distant memories.

Paris lies gently on the hills on both sides of the river. He winces. The crowd flocks to the center. In the early morning it flows mainly from the western slopes and heights: jackets, work blouses, corduroy pants and jackets, caps everywhere. The old people read the article by Jaurès with importance. This morning Jaurès is moderate, prudent, peaceful. He protects the Turks. Regrets the shamelessness of the Bulgarians and Austrians. He fears that the Greeks, Serbs and Italians will follow their example. Calls them to prudence. Middle-aged comrades are interested in the report on the first meeting of the General Confederation of Labor in Marseille. In the crush, trying not to bump into a stall, a lantern or the broad back of a woman selling vegetables, they laugh to themselves at the butads of Citizen Pato. Once again the bourgeois gentlemen will become afraid.

And young workers, apprentices, errand boys (“Looking for an errand boy with a recommendation from their parents”), are captivated by the exploits of the aviators, especially Wright.

- Read? “Wright” (Wright) lifted a young man weighing 108 kilos with him and made two circles?

Four days earlier, on Friday, October 2, Wright set a distance record. It flew 60.6 kilometers and stayed in the air for 1 hour 31 meters 25 seconds, circling around two pillars. Farman set a speed record. It reached 52.704 kilometers per hour, circling in the same manner. The next day, October 3, Wright managed to stay in the air for about an hour with a passenger; and the passenger, Franz Reschel, published in Le Figaro a description of his impressions, which was reprinted by almost all the newspapers, even the militant organs of the extreme left. But Mr. Reshel's impressions were truly fascinating. He described the strange, wondrous dizziness that befell him when he felt himself gliding at a height of more than 10 meters above the ground. He was surprised to note that, despite the speed of 60 kilometers per hour, he did not have to squint. By the end of the test, Mr. Reschel could not control his excitement. His heart trembled, tears flowed from his eyes.

The apprentices and young comrades found that Mr. Reshel had a weak heart. But there were, of course, the opinion that the future of aviation is unlimited, that its progress will be stunning. Everyone was just complaining that Paris had become terribly cramped. The construction work of the metro, which gradually spread a kind of fortification everywhere from boards and earth, with artillery of cranes, completely cluttered the streets and blocked intersections. And at the same time, this tunneling undermined the soil in all directions and threatened Paris with failure. (On the same October 3, part of the courtyard in the Cité barracks collapsed onto the Chatelet-Orléans metro gallery under construction, and the horse of one municipal guardsman suddenly disappeared into the abyss.) So, a few months or a few weeks earlier, in March or even July 1908, it was still possible to understand that engineers were fussing and exposing people to such dangers because of the wormholes of the subway; but really, on October 6, in this autumn, when aviation was ripening like a wonderful fruit, one could not help but wonder whether it was still worth burying so many millions and even horses of municipal guardsmen in underground canals, while it was obvious that in 1918, not later, a good half of Parisian street traffic would be carried out in airplanes at an altitude of 10 or 20 meters.

In the morning hours there was a kind of rotation in this huge influx from the periphery to the center. Starting from eight in the morning, the main mass was no longer coming from the east, but from the north-east side of the city, or rather even from the north. The rotation then continued from north to northwest. The beginning of the movement seems to be