“American Soldiers marching down the Rue Royal, July 14th, 1918, in the parade celebrating the Independence Day of France. In the background is seen La Madeleine, formerly the temple of glory which Napoleon I built in honor of the ‘Grande Armée’.”  From a painting by Josephe-Félix Bouchor, official painter to the French armies, who both saw and painted World War I.

This card was a gift from Eddy at D’hier à aujourd’hui (From Yesterday to Today), who presents antique picture postcards of Paris along with modern images of the same scenes.

A clarification: Bastille Day (or, as the French call it, the 14th of July), is not exactly “the Independence Day of France”; it simply marks the start of the French Revolution, in 1789.  Granted, there are military parades during the day and fireworks at night, but nobody in France is having people over for a cookout or drinking a toast to the Revolution.  More’s the pity.

This is a postcard from the Cavallini & Co.: Vintage Postcard Set – Tin of 18 that I received in the mail a few days ago. Is it not awesome? This is the front of the postcard; the back of the card is a very simple design, featuring only a dividing line and the legend “Carte Postale” at the top. I have already sent out a couple of these cards via Postcrossing.

If you would like to swap for one of these cards, you can let me know by leaving me a comment; I will reply to your comment via email to get your address. (Check out my Postcrossing profile for some of my interests.) I also have cards available for swap from these collections as well:

• Cavallini & Co.: New Birds Postcard Set – Tin of 18
• Cavallini & Co.: Butterflies Postcard Set – Tin of 18

I’ve always enjoyed Richard Bach’s work, though it gets a little out there at times.  He also has a tendency to hit you over the head with the point he’s trying to make.  But the idea that life is more than going to work to earn the money to buy the food to get the strength to go to work, ad infinitum, really hit home for me at a young age:

How much more there is now to living! Instead of our drab slogging forth and back to the fishing boats, there’s reason to life! We can lift ourselves out of ignorance, we can find ourselves as creatures of excellence and intelligence and skill. We can be free! We can learn to fly!

By contrast, the movie was pretty awful; so awful, in fact, that the author sued for negligence.  I vaguely remember seeing it when I was very young; it may have contributed to my general distaste for the work of Neil Diamond. Nevertheless, it has since been released on DVD. As part of my Postcard Friendship Friday duties, I must advise you to do yourself a favor and read the book instead; looks like you can get a first edition hardcover like mine for a dollar. (I also picked up an interesting little softcover Turkish translation about 20 years ago; I wonder how it reads in French.)

Don’t forget to check out the other blogs celebrating Postcard Friendship Friday.

This week’s foray into Postcard Friendship Friday brings us to this gift from my postcard friend Eddy, who runs the excellent blog D’hier à aujourd’hui (From Yesterday to Today), which compares postcard images of the France of yesteryear with modern views of the same sites. This card, along with another turn-of-the-century French card, arrived a few days ago, but you get to see only this one today; I will save the other for Bastille Day.

This postcard, postmarked 24 August 1905, shows the top of the Fontaine Carpeaux in Paris’s 6th District.  The four maidens, created by sculptor Jean Baptiste Carpeaux, represent the “four parts of the world”: an African; an American Indian; an Asian; and a Caucasian.  They are posed as if they are turning the celestial sphere, complete with the signs of the zodiac, around the Earth.  Interestingly, the sphere was not created by Carpeaux, but by another sculptor, Pierre Legrain.  The fountain’s pool, not pictured, contains sculptures of horses emerging from the water, which were created by yet another sculptor, Emmanuel Frémiet.  But it is only Carpeaux’s name on the fountain.

The back of this card is even more fascinating:

The card is addressed to Monsieur et Madame Poulain (ancestors of Amelie, perhaps?) at 6 Rue de la Présentation in Paris, which is looking a little worse for wear today.  The message is in an antique hand, and seems to be misspelled and ungrammatical here and there in a language that I don’t speak well, but I believe that it reads something like the following (please feel free to correct me):

All my regrets at not being here yesterday to thank you for your strong support. I charge this card with the deed and will meet both of you for dinner tomorrow night Friday without fail.  I embrace you (both). Yvette.

I guess the modern equivalent is receiving an email that closes with the word “hugs.”  There’s also a postscript in the upper left: “Alice wants(?) me to hug you for her.”  Let us hope that Yvette kept her appointment, gave hugs all around, and didn’t have to send another apology.

Translated from the French description on the back: “The Beaujolais vineyard extends over 55 km from north to south, and 15 km from east to west. It covers 22,000 hectares spread over 96 municipalities. Average annual harvest, around 1,300,000 hl (that is, 1.3 million hectolitres, or 130 million litres), 50% from the Beaujolais region, 25% from the Beaujolais Village, and 25% from the ten famous wineries: 180 million bottles.”

This is an official Postcrossing card from Maria; it made the journey from Beaujolais all the way to me in Georgia, USA in only seven days.  Maria’s handwriting is very, very French, especially the 1′s and 7′s in my address; her writing looks just like that of my first French language teacher.  Maria, je vous remercie de tout coeur.

I don’t know that we would refer to this as the Bishop’s Palace today; I believe that the correct term is the bishopric. Both buildings obviously bear the scars of German artillery taken by the town during the Battle of Verdun, which lasted almost the entire year of 1916.

Of course, anyone who has taken French lessons will probably recall Verdun as the home of the neighbor of le gentil garçon qui prononce bien.

In addition to the usual notices one would find on the back of a postcard in any language (that is, Post Card, This Side Reserved for the Address, This Side Reserved for Message), this one also says that Aucune inscription n’est admise du côte de la Vue — basically, you’re not allowed to write on the side with the picture. Through most of the first ten years of the 20th century, one was only allowed to write one’s message on the side with the picture, and ten years later the French won’t let us write on that side at all. Make up your minds!

You can find more French postcards (and others) at Cpaphil Vintage Postcards, whose webmaster (webmaîtresse?), Marie, was kind enough to send me a comment recently.