Ancient Echoes in Sepia: The Temple of Heracles, Agrigento (1937)

There is a profound, almost silent weight to certain photographs. While my previous post explored the domestic warmth of a 1906 Warwickshire riverbank, today’s piece from my collection takes us much further back in time—and into a much more stark, monumental atmosphere. This is a real-photo postcard of the Temple of Heracles (Tempio di Ercole) in Agrigento, Sicily.

Temple of Heracles, Agrigento, Sicily, Italy

The Visual: A Forest of Stone

The front of the postcard features a striking sepia image of eight fluted Doric columns standing defiant against a pale, sprawling sky. This is the southern side of the temple, a detail noted in three languages—Italian, German, and English—on the reverse.

The Temple of Heracles is widely considered the oldest of the temples in the famous Valley of the Temples in Agrigento, dating back to the late 6th century BC. When this photo was taken, those stones had already weathered two and a half millennia of Mediterranean sun, salt, and conflict. The rugged texture of the calcarenite stone is palpable in this high-contrast print; you can see the deep grooves of the fluting and the massive, heavy capitals that once supported a colossal entablature. The foreground is a chaotic tumble of original masonry, reminding us that what stands today is a partial reconstruction—a "re-anastylosis" performed in the 1920s to bring these eight pillars back to the vertical.

The Provenance: 1937 and the "Serie Artistica"

Turning the card over reveals a wealth of historical context that is just as fascinating as the ruins themselves. Unlike the chatty, handwritten note from Emily in my Leamington post, this card remains unposted and pristine, serving as a formal "souvenir" of a specific era in Italian history.

The vertical text along the left edge identifies this as an "Edizione del Museo Civico" (Civic Museum Edition). Crucially, it is dated 1937 - XV. The "XV" refers to the fifteenth year of the Era Fascista (Fascist Era), a dating system used in Italy at the time. During the 1930s, there was a massive state-driven effort to excavate and promote Italy's classical past as a symbol of national strength and continuity.

The card was produced by Fotocelere in Turin, a company renowned for high-quality "Vera Fotografia" (True Photography) postcards. This wasn't a cheap mass-produced lithograph; it was a silver halide print designed to capture the fine detail of the stone, sold as part of an "Artistic Series" to sophisticated travellers visiting the Valley of the Temples.

The Valley of the Temples

Agrigento (ancient Akragas) was once one of the most powerful cities of the Magna Graecia. The Temple of Heracles was nearly as large as the Parthenon in Athens. Imagine these pillars covered in white stucco, painted with vibrant reds and blues, standing as a beacon for sailors approaching the Sicilian coast.

By the time this postcard was printed in 1937, the site had become a centrepiece of the "Grand Tour" for a new generation of motorized tourists. While the world was on the brink of another devastating global conflict, these columns stood as they do now: remnants of a civilization that thought itself eternal, reduced to a beautiful, haunting skeletal form.

Why Collect "Museum Editions"?

I love this card because it represents the intersection of ancient history and modern propaganda. It is a museum-sanctioned view of the past, captured with the best photographic technology of the 1930s. It lacks a personal message, but its "official" nature tells us how the world viewed these ruins just before the outbreak of World War II. It is a snapshot of how we curate and package "the ancient" for the modern traveller.

A Glimpse of Edwardian Leisure: The Weir and Suspension Bridge, Leamington

There is a specific kind of magic in holding a postcard sent over a century ago. It isn’t just the image on the front—a hand-tinted window into a lost landscape—but the frantic, looping handwriting on the back that bridges the gap between "history" and "humanity."

Today, I’m looking at a beautiful piece from my collection: a postcard of The Weir and Suspension Bridge in Royal Leamington Spa, postmarked September 1906.

The Weir and Suspension Bridge, Royal Leamington Spa

The Scene: Victorian Engineering meets Picturesque Charm

The front of the card features a classic view of the River Leam. The suspension bridge, which once connected the Jephson Gardens to Mill Gardens, stands as a testament to the town’s Victorian heyday as a premier spa destination.

The colorization gives the water a serene, glassy blue tint, contrasting with the warm red-brick chimneys of the houses in the background. In 1906, this was the height of local fashion. Visitors would have strolled along the riverbanks, perhaps after taking the "medicinal waters" at the Royal Pump Rooms nearby, enjoying the rhythmic sound of the weir.

The Message: "A Beautiful Place"

While the image is captivating, the reverse side of the card tells the real story. Sent to Mr. & Mrs. Gushlow at 23 Bramble St., Coventry, the message is a warm, domestic dispatch from a woman named Emily to her "Dearest Annie & Arthur."

Emily writes:

"Thought perhaps you would like a P.C. [postcard] of Leamington. My dear sister & I were both there yesterday, it is a beautiful place but I daresay you have both been."

It is a lovely reminder that even in 1906, Leamington Spa was a "staycation" favourite for those living in nearby industrial hubs like Coventry. Emily goes on to mention her hopes for a visit:

"I shall come over to Coventry sometime & see you because you were both so kind the last time... we are having some beautiful weather now, so we shall be very pleased to have you both over at Melton when it is most convenient for you to come."

A Snapshot of 1906

The postcard is a perfect artifact of the Edwardian "Postcard Boom." Between 1902 and 1910, billions of cards were sent through the British postal system. The postmark here is crisp: COVENTRY, 2 PM, SP 6, 06.

In an era before smartphones, these cards were the "text messages" of the day. They were cheap, fast (often delivered the same day), and allowed people to share their experiences in near-real-time. The Half Penny green stamp in the corner was all it took to send this affectionate note across Warwickshire.

Why This Matters Today

Looking at this card, I can’t help but think of the Gushlow family receiving this on their doorstep on a Thursday afternoon in September. The "beautiful weather" Emily mentions has long since passed, and the suspension bridge in the photo was replaced decades ago, but their connection remains preserved in ink.

Collections like these remind us that history isn't just about Kings and Wars; it's about sisters taking day trips to the river and friends promising to visit one another when the weather is fine.

Merry Motoring: When Santa Ditched the Sleigh for a Motorcar (c. 1908)

 Happy Christmas to all! As we settle down with our mince pies and electronic gadgets today, I wanted to share a fascinating piece of history from my postcard collection that beautifully illustrates how traditions evolve: a postcard featuring Santa Claus driving a vintage motorcar!

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Santa Claus, Vintage Motor Car 1908

The Image: A High-Speed Holiday Delivery

This stunningly detailed illustration, likely dating from the early 1900s during the Edwardian period, shows a surprisingly modern (for the time) Santa.

• The Automobile: Instead of his traditional sleigh, Santa is pulling up in a large, dark green touring car, complete with brass lamps and big, spoked wheels—a luxury vehicle of its era. This detail perfectly captures the excitement and modernity that the automobile represented at the turn of the century.

• The Cargo: He's not carrying a big sack of toys, but rather unloading a wicker basket containing a doll. Next to him in the back seat are a variety of classic, old-fashioned toys, including a hobby horse, a wooden doll, and even a Punch-and-Judy style clown figure.

• The Setting: The deep blue background is decorated with traditional holly and red berries, grounding the scene in classic Christmas iconography, while the inscription "Merry Christmas" stretches across the bottom.

The Context: Santa's Evolution

This postcard is a wonderful piece of commercial art that tracks Santa's image in the public imagination. By the 1900s, the modern image of the jolly, bearded, red-suited Santa was established, largely thanks to Thomas Nast's illustrations from the late 19th century.

However, as society embraced new technology, Santa was often reimagined to reflect contemporary life:

• Modernity vs. Tradition: In the Edwardian era (c. 1901–1910), the motorcar was the ultimate symbol of speed, wealth, and progress. Placing Santa—a figure of deep tradition—behind the wheel of an early automobile was a clever way for artists and publishers to make the Christmas season feel exciting, new, and relevant to the fast-changing world. It suggests that even the most magical deliveries require a little modern efficiency!

• The Golden Age of Postcards: Produced during the peak of postcard popularity, cards like this were essential for sending holiday cheer, often traveling rapidly through the burgeoning postal system.

This image is a joyful blend of old and new: the eternal spirit of Santa Claus delivering presents, but updated for a century that was just learning to drive. It's a fantastic reminder that the spirit of Christmas, while timeless, always finds a way to move with the times—even if it means trading reindeer for horsepower!