The Architect (1856-1863)
quite legitimate source of assistance in creating mental pictures by these means, and whether or not Hardy could be justified in assuming that his audiences would be possessed of a knowledge of and enthusiasm for the great achievements in the other arts equal to his own, are questions that need not be debated in a biographical sketch. It may, however, be noted that if one fully accepts the implications of the Hall of Muses poem quoted above, then one will at least sympathize and understand Hardy's procedure, even if he does not exactly enjoy it or wholly agree with it.
Of far greater importance than this practice of Hardy's is the pictorial or photographic point of view that he assumed when he created his astonishing word-pictures. This aspect of his art was perhaps given its strongest emphasis in A Pair of Blue Eyes, wherein one finds Endelstow House thus visualized:
The dusk had thickened into darkness while they conversed, and the outline and surface of the mansion gradually disappeared. The windows, which had before been like black blots on a lighter expanse of wall, became illuminated, and were transfigured to squares of light on the general dark body of the night landscape as it absorbed the outlines of the edifice into its gloomy monochrome.
The attitude of the trained artist can also be observed in the picture of the singing Elfride, the changing scenes of the journey to St. Leonard's, the tremendous description of the cliff, and in the most telling glimpse of Knight and Elfie which the reader gets through the eyes of Stephen Smith.
The example last named deserves quo
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