had been fascinated by Lombard architecture since his early travels in northern Italy. The task of writing an architectural study of the remaining monuments and churches in the Lombard region was colossal, as most of the original buildings had been destroyed during renovations and reconstructions. This, however, was no deterrent to Kingsley. In the first volume he painstakingly traced the development of Lombard architecture from its Byzantine beginnings in the sixth century, through its Romanesque, Gothic and Cistercian epochs,58 using documentary evidence and comparative masonry analysis.59 He also discussed the use of ornament, in particular the grotesque. He described the personal inscriptions left by craftsmen, often of a humorous nature, such as the carving of an old man who rubs his beard, accompanied by the caption: ‘I am here to amuse fools.’60
The book was undoubtedly original and inherently courageous. Kingsley challenged many cherished theories postulated by contemporaries and shattered the misconceptions of previous authorities. Through his findings he argued that the authentic Lombard style began to emerge as ‘more interesting, more worthy of study, and certainly more beautiful’.61
The second and third volumes were devoted to the discussion of individual monuments, while the fourth contained 1,000 fine plates that illustrated the chronological development of the style. Kingsley brilliantly captured the beauty and character of Lombard architecture, with its broken straight lines, its incredible colours, mosaic pavements and marvellous frescoes. The New York Times reviewed the book in glowing terms: ‘the clarity of the author’s thought and expression makes his description and comment extremely interesting to the moderately informed reader. The form of the work reaches the high standard set by the Yale University Press for its important publications.’62
The book, however, met with severe rebuke in certain circles. The proof proffered by Kingsley that the ribbed vault, on which Gothic architecture depends, was first created in Lombardy before travelling to France63 was met with caustic criticism by French art historians. Émile Mâle, the celebrated French medieval art historian, wrote a hostile review of Lombard Architecture in 1918. Mâle severely criticized Kingsley’s dating of Italian Romanesque monuments and his suggestion that sculpture from the Emelia-Romagna region exerted influence on artistic developments in France.64 Mâle postulated that all major artistic developments began in France and that Lombard architecture was always derived from French design. He refuted Kingsley’s assertion that significant building and sculpture had occurred between the eighth and tenth centuries and he strongly criticized Kingsley’s theory that sculpture had been created in Europe before 1100.65
Although Kingsley may have presented a withdrawn and diffident exterior at social gatherings or to passing acquaintances, when it came to defending his archaeological theories he did so with great passion, eloquence and self-belief. He immediately responded to Mâle’s rebuff in an article, ‘The Rise of Romanesque Sculpture’.66 He challenged Mâle’s Franco-centric views and theorized that artistic exchange occurred during the pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela, in northern Spain. He postulated that Lombard craftsmen travelled the pilgrim route to Santiago, stopping at Languedoc before travelling to Spain. He argued that international artistic exchange was how medieval craftsmen learned and shared their artistic secrets, without regional boundaries.67 In defence of his work, Kingsley displayed the full gamut of his brilliance as a researcher, an author and a tactician. Thus an infamous battle raged between the two scholars, as to the origins of Romanesque sculpture in Christian Spain, that continued well into the next decade.68
Despite Mâle’s criticism, the work catapulted Kingsley to international acclaim. Bernard Berenson, renowned art historian and specialist in Renaissance art, was full of praise for Lombard Architecture.69 Berenson sent Kingsley a very flattering letter, telling him that they were indeed kindred spirits. Kingsley replied with great appreciation: ‘I have read and reread and admired your works so intensely, that an autograph from you carries with it the romance of a relic. I wish I dared believe you that there is kinship between my method and yours. I think it may be so in the sense that your scholarship has been my inspiration.’70
The stream of correspondence with art historians and museum curators in the US, including Kingsley’s friend William Goodyear, Brooklyn Museum’s Curator of Fine Arts,71 and Allan Marquant,72 Professor and Director of the Princeton University Art Museum, showed that Kingsley was now established as a specialist in medieval architecture. His expert opinion was constantly sought and highly valued.
On 24 October 1917, Kingsley wrote to Raymond Pitcairn, architect of Bryn Athyn Cathedral in Pennsylvania, to offer praise for his design:
I had expected much of the Bryn Athyn church, but nothing like what I found. If it existed in Europe, in France or England, it would still be at once six centuries behind, and a hundred years ahead of its time. But on the soil of great architectural traditions, it would be in a measure comprehensible, and the presence in the neighbourhood of the great works of the past would in a way prepare the mind for this achievement of the present age. For your church, alone of modern buildings, in my judgement, is worthy of comparison with the best the Middle Ages produced.73
Kingsley was so appreciative of Pitcairn’s work that he included an illustration of Bryn Athyn Cathedral as the frontispiece in his book, Beyond Architecture (1918).
The Porters also supported the war effort by attending several exhibitions and auctions that had been organized to raise funds. It was always important for Lucy to give her time to charitable organizations and over the years she served on many committees that funded artists, students and various minority groups. On 11 November 1917, Kingsley exhibited some of his art works at the exhibition of Italian paintings that was held at the Kleinberger Galleries in New York, the receipts for which went to the American war relief.74 That same afternoon, Kingsley gave a lecture on medieval architecture at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.75 On 19 December, Lucy attended the sale of Professor Elia Volpi’s art treasures, at the American Art Gallery in New York. She purchased a seventeenth-century Italian velvet table cover, that was bordered with gold lace, for $320.76
During the early months of 1918, Kingsley continued to lecture at Yale while researching his latest book, Beyond Architecture. On 13 March he was invited to give a lecture on French Gothic architecture at Harvard’s Fogg Art Museum.77 Following on from the success of his lecture, Kingsley loaned two early Italian paintings to the museum.78 One of the paintings was a rare fourteenth-century Gothic triptych by Simone da Bologna; the other painting was attributed to Jacob di Cione, brother of Orcagna, and was described as being very rich in colour. Thus began Kingsley’s bittersweet relationship with Harvard.
During 1918, Kingsley’s reputation reached new heights when he was awarded the prestigious Grande Médaille de Vermeil de Société Française d’Archéologie.79 This great international honour was indeed a sweet salve after Mâle’s relentless criticism.
In June 1918, Kingsley’s fourth book, Beyond Architecture (based on a series of articles he had written), was published by the Boston publisher Marshall Jones Company. In the preface he wrote that this ‘baby of peace’ was born ‘amid the shrapnel and groans of a great war’.80 The main text discussed the components that must be present in any art – including architecture, painting, stained glass, sculpture, music and literature – to constitute a work of beauty and value.
Kingsley postulated that in all great art, the intention of the artist must be to bring forth a creation from the depths of the soul, from the sublime well of emotion: ‘For the essence of all great art is joy: the joy of grandeur, the joy of poetry, the joy of gloom, the joy of tears perhaps, but always joy. The genius imbues the object with a spark of this divine joy, so that it may awaken in others the same or a kindred emotion.’81
While modern-day artists often focused on producing art for commercial purposes, Kingsley held that Gothic artists achieved ‘absolute unity of composition... Each capital, each statue, each bit of tracery, each moulding, was a masterpiece.’82 This wonderful spirit of creativity also applied to the work of medieval stained-glass artists, in which ‘the flow of line,