and above all, the colouring, are sources of unending delight’.83
This book, more than any other, shows Kingsley’s absolute love of art. It is apparent that great art could stir his emotions and ignite his spirit – perhaps a great deal more than most people could ever excite or interest him. Art was more than a pastime, more than a career; it was an indelible need, bringing him close to the exhilaration he felt when wandering in the depths of nature. He strongly disagreed with the popular opinion that Greek monuments were ‘self-restrained, metallic and icy, colourless as the moonlight on the snow’. For Kingsley, Greek art was highly erotic and charged with sexual imagery, culminating in the depiction of the male nude:
Greek art was not anaemic, but red-blooded, not pale, but full of strong colours, not neurotic, but pulsating with life. Indeed, in this very vitality lies the secret of its illustrative power. It is full of sex. The emotion it conveys is the emotion of sex, the beauty it interprets is the beauty of sex! This fact has very largely been misunderstood or ignored because the type of sex which appealed with especial power to the Greeks is considered perverse and repulsive by the modern age. Not being willing to grant that an art obviously of the highest type could have been inspired by ideals which seem to us depraved, we have willed not to understand. Yet delight in the nude, and especially in the nude male, is the key-note of Greek art. Where else has the vigour of youth, the play of muscles, the glory of manhood found a like expression? It is the ideal of masculine sex which the Greeks eternally glorified; this is the beauty they never wearied of interpreting... And the sculptures were the idealization of male sex, that and that only. Thus the entire Greek temple was made a glorious hymn in praise of sex.84
Kingsley’s open appreciation of the male nude as created by the ancient Greeks was indeed courageous in the repressed New England society in which he lived. His description of the Greek temple as ‘a glorious hymn in praise of sex’ might have been construed as profane and indeed vulgar. Fortunately, his views on the sexiness of classical art passed without notice.
The early months of 1918 were busy for Lucy as she entertained friends and family for dinner and lunch engagements at their New York home.85 Lucy’s engagement diary for that year was full of social events and cultural outings, including evenings at the Boston Symphony, the opera, chamber music recitals and theatrical performances. Lucy was a full-time hostess, constantly arranging afternoon teas and dinners for the Wallace family, the Porters, the Merritts, and for their vast network of friends and acquaintances. On Thursday mornings Lucy volunteered for the Red Cross, where she learned the rudiments of nursing.
These were also busy months for Kingsley. Lucy marked set times in her diary for Kingsley to be alone, to write and study.86 He was often asked to lecture at prestigious universities, including Princeton. He also made regular visits to Louis and his family in Stamford. It was mainly at weekends that Kingsley and Lucy could unwind and spend time together. No matter what events or lavish entertainment Lucy attended during the week, it was always these quiet times spent alone with Kingsley that were the most precious.
During the summer of 1918, the idyllic world of perfect form and shape in which Kingsley loved to dwell was far from the minds of millions of Europeans. War still raged in Europe, and unspeakable carnage and destruction littered the cities and countryside after a four-year onslaught by the Allies to defeat Germany. Kingsley was contacted by the Commission for Historical Monuments on behalf of the French government and invited to join the Works of Art Service in the Armed Forces Area of Paris. Kingsley was delighted with the honour as he was the only non-French expert invited to assist in the preservation of French monuments.87
Kingsley had recently established a career as a lecturer in Yale. He was now aged 35, while Lucy was 42. It is not known whether either of them wanted a family, though it was certainly unusual at the time for a couple who had been married for six years to be childless, unless there was some physical problem that prevented a pregnancy. Lucy would certainly have been within her rights to want a permanent home. The prospect of relocating to France in the midst of a world war would have been abhorrent to most women. However, Lucy appears to have embraced this momentous adventure with great fervour. In none of her diaries or correspondence does she portray the least trace of fear or apprehension about relocating to a war-ravaged zone.
Kingsley was subsequently appointed to a panel of experts to assess the damage that had been inflicted on medieval monuments in France.88 The appointment suited him, as he was eager to begin research in Europe for his new book, Romanesque Sculpture of the Pilgrimage Roads. Yet it was a dangerous undertaking; although the war was moving into its final phase, atrocities were still being carried out on all sides.
During mid-July, the Porters visited family and friends in Stamford and Washington.89 In her diary, Lucy failed to mention how their relatives greeted the announcement that they would be leaving the safety of their East Coast life for the chaotic shores of France, in the midst of a deadly war. In early August they met with Monsieur Hubert who was to arrange their passage to France.90 The Allies had just begun their offensive against the Germans in northern France, centring on the town of Amiens, between 8 and 11 August. In Lucy’s engagement diary, several dates were marked for their departure, but they finally left New York on Sunday 11 August.91 Their destination was Paris,92 and their official assignment was to assess the damage that had been wreaked on medieval monuments.93 Kingsley’s own mission was to save every sculpture, monument and Romanesque structure from ruin or oblivion.
Chapter five
War and Separation
As the First World War was nearing its final, desperate throes, the Porters left the safety of their privileged East Coast life to face the perils of an Atlantic voyage. They landed at Bordeaux without incident on 29 August 19181 and made their way to Paris, where they booked into the Hotel de France to await further instructions.2 They carried a letter of introduction to allow them to travel unhindered by officials. The letter was signed by Robert Lansing, the United States Secretary of State, on behalf of Kingsley’s uncle, Schuyler Merritt, who was currently serving as a representative in Congress.3
Lucy arranged lunch and dinner engagements with American friends in Paris during September and the early weeks of October.4 Travel within France was still hazardous as the Allies continued their offensive in northern France. On 12 September the Germans were forced to retreat to the Belgian border after the Battle of Havrincourt. From 18 September to 10 October, the Battle of the Hindenburg Line was fought until the Allies finally broke through German lines.
In late October, Kingsley was required to go to Italy to survey the damage inflicted on Roman monuments.5 Lucy had trouble obtaining a visa to travel into Italy, so reluctantly she decided to remain in Paris until her papers were issued.6 Kingsley was distraught at leaving Lucy behind. However, Monsieur Hubert promised that within a week Lucy would receive her papers.7 In the meantime, Lucy had her maid, Natalina, for company.8 On Friday 25 October, Kingsley travelled to Rome, alone.9 Lucy recorded in her diary entry for that day: ‘Our first separation.’10
15. Soldiers removing art works from Cathedral in Reims, c. 1918.
From Rheims and the Battles for its Possession, Illustrated Michelin Guides to the Battle-Fields (1914-1918) (Clermont-Ferrand: Michelin & Cie, 1919; published in eBook format by Project Gutenberg, 2011), p.23.
Before crossing into Italy, Kingsley met up with Monsieur Hubert and was given a busy workload, to visit churches and monuments in Dijon,11 Bourg-en-Bresse12 and other devastated regions of eastern France. He also tried to secure a pass for Lucy to allow her to travel within the war zone in Paris so that she could make an assessment of the damage inflicted on some of the churches and monuments.13
Kingsley and Lucy corresponded on a daily basis. Some days they wrote several letters to each other as well as sending telegrams and postcards. The separation was acutely painful to both. Their letters