In Book 1, Chapter 4, the narrator makes an allusion to Amerigo Vespucci, comparing Wildeve's efforts to that of the Early Modern explorer. The allusion highlights the idea that some of Wildeve’s achievements are built upon the work of others:
She first reached Wildeve’s Patch, as it was called, a plot of land redeemed from the heath, and after long and laborious years brought into cultivation. The man who had discovered that it could be broken up died of the labour: the man who succeeded him in possession ruined himself in fertilising it. Wildeve came like Amerigo Vespucci, and received the honours due to those who had gone before.
Amerigo Vespucci was a 15th-century Italian explorer. He’s widely credited for recognizing that the Americas were separate from Asia. Vespucci was not actually the first European to reach the Americas, as Christopher Columbus and others had done so before him. However, for a variety of reasons, the continents were still named after him. Similarly to Vespucci, Wildeve benefits from the previous efforts and achievements of others. He is not a character who is particularly committed to anything in the long term, nor one who works particularly hard.
The allusion to Vespucci here emphasizes that Wildeve's success is not based on personal merit but rather on the groundwork laid by others. Wildeve's circumstances are a comment by Hardy on how societal structures sometimes unfairly favor people, regardless of their personal merits or effort. Through this, Hardy draws attention to the inherent inequities in Victorian Britain, pushing the reader to question the fairness and justice of these societal norms. Hardy’s allusion to Vespucci here isn’t intended to make Wildeve seem like a villain. Rather, it’s a commentary on the broader social and economic structures that allow for some people to profit from the work of others. This is a common theme of Naturalist novels like The Return of the Native, where fate is often unfair and impartial and hard work doesn't always mean success.
In Book 1, Chapter 6, Hardy's use of allusion, visual imagery and foreshadowing provides the reader with a deeper understanding of Eustacia's character. He describes her striding around the Heath in the following way:
A profile was visible against the dull monochrome of cloud around her; and it was as though side-shadows from the features of Marie Antoinette and Mrs. Siddons had converged upwards from the tomb to form an image like neither but suggesting both. This, however, was mere superficiality. In respect of character a face may make certain admissions by its outline; but it fully confesses only in its changes.
In this allusion, Hardy compares Eustacia to Marie Antoinette, the last queen of France before the French Revolution, and to Mrs. Siddons, a renowned British actress known for her portrayal of tragic characters. This aligns Eustacia with both the idea of beauty and bad behavior, as these were things both Antoinette and Siddons were known for.
The allusions to these historical figures do not only lend Eustacia an air of regal beauty and notoriety. They also subtly foreshadow her own tragic trajectory. Both Marie Antoinette and Mrs. Siddons are also associated with downfall and despair: Antoinette with the fall of the French monarchy and Siddons with her tragic onstage roles. By aligning Eustacia with these figures, Hardy hints at her own approaching downfall.
The visual imagery of the "dull monochrome of cloud around her" and the "side-shadows from the features" of Antoinette and Siddons contribute to the sense of Eustacia as a mysterious and enigmatic figure. Her body in this passage is silhouetted against clouds and formed from shadows, suggesting that there’s a supernatural or mysterious aspect to her presence.
What's more, Hardy's commentary on the superficiality of facial features and their inability to fully convey a person's character serves as a reminder to the reader not to judge Eustacia solely based on her physical beauty. The fact that her face might “make certain admissions by its outline” doesn’t speak to her nature as a whole. In saying that a face “confesses” solely through its “changes,” Hardy teases again that the reader will have to wait to see Eustacia’s fate revealed.
In Book 1, Chapter 7, Hardy employs allusions, imagery, metaphors, and similes to help the narrative introduce Eustacia Vye. All this hyperbolic language gives an intense and somewhat mocking introduction to her physical beauty:
Her presence brought memories of Bourbon roses, rubies, tropical midnights, and eclipses of the sun; her moods recalled lotus-eaters, the march in ‘Athalie;' her motions, the ebb and flow of the sea; her voice, the viola. In a dim light, and with a slight rearrangement of her hair, her general figure might have stood for that of either of the higher female deities. The new moon behind her head, an old helmet upon it, a diadem of accidental dewdrops round her brow, would have been adjuncts sufficient to strike the note of Artemis, Athena, or Hera respectively [...]
The author uses the metaphor of a viola to describe Eustacia's voice, implying that it is sweet and melancholy. He also refers to her motions as “the ebb and flow of the sea,” a metaphor implying that she is graceful and rhythmic in her movements. The allusion to the "Lotus-Eaters," a poem by Alfred, Lord Tennyson, characterizes her as a pleasure-seeker. This sets an early tone for Eustacia’s character development in the novel.
The passage is crammed with sensory imagery—tactile, visual, olfactory, and auditory—that evokes the exotic and the fabulous. Hardy compares Eustacia's presence to that of “Bourbon roses, rubies, tropical midnights, and eclipses of the sun,” all images of rare, precious and expensive things. Many of these images also evoke more than one sense: for example, the “Bourbon roses” make the reader think of floral perfume, soft petals, and attractive, densely-folded blooms. Eustacia’s description by Hardy here is ridiculously hyperbolic, especially as it goes on for a good deal longer than this passage does. The description, the author implies, has as much to do with how Eustacia sees herself as anything else. The narrator is poking fun at her with the overblown language of this description.
In Book 2, Chapter 3 of The Return of the Native, Hardy uses allusion, foreshadowing and strong visual language to depict Eustacia's complex dream following her meeting with Clym and her conversation with her grandfather:
She dreamt a dream; and few human beings, from Nebuchadnezzar to the Swaffham tinker ever dreamed a more remarkable one. Such an elaborately developed, perplexing, exciting dream was certainly never dreamed by a girl in Eustacia’s situation before. It had as many ramifications as the Cretan labyrinth, as many fluctuations as the Northern Lights, as much colour as a parterre in June, was as crowded with figures as a coronation. To Queen Scheherezade the dream might have seemed not far removed from commonplace.
The allusions Hardy makes here to “Nebuchadnezzar,” the “Swaffham tinker,” the “Labyrinth of Crete,” and to “Queen Scheherezade” all refer to figures or stories associated with dreams, mysteries, and intricate narratives. Nebuchadnezzar, a Babylonian king who appears in the Bible, had profound dreams interpreted by the Christian prophet Daniel. The “Swaffham tinker” is a figure in English folklore who followed his dream to find treasure. The Labyrinth of Crete is a famous mythological maze with a Minotaur at its center. Scheherazade is the storyteller of "One Thousand and One Nights," known for preserving her life through her enchanting and elaborate tales. These many allusions suggest the extraordinary quality of Eustacia's dream, which is far brighter than anything else in her life at this point in the novel.
In addition to these allusions, Hardy’s descriptive language is rich with visual imagery. Eustacia’s dream is full of "ramifications," suggesting a maze-like quality of intricate, winding paths. These twists and turns both reflect and foreshadow the confusion of Eustacia's feelings for Clym. The comparison to the "Northern Lights" also conveys fluctuation and a dazzling display of colors. The reference to a "parterre in June" brings to mind a formal garden at its peak. The reader sees a vision of glorious colors, symbolizing the richness and intensity of Eustacia's emotions and hopes. Hardy paints a vivid picture of her internal emotional landscape through this barrage of images and ideas. Eustacia's dream is a microcosm of her aspirations, her desires, and the complicated feelings that meeting Clym stirs up in her.
In Book 2, Chapter 7 of The Return of the Native, Hardy employs visual imagery and allusion to convey the emotional state of Eustacia as she runs into Diggory Venn on the heath. Eustacia leaves her house in Egdon:
[...] full of a passionate and indescribable solicitude for one to whom she was not even a name, she went forth into the amplitude of tanned wild around her, restless as Ahasuerus the Jew. She was about half a mile from her residence when she beheld a sinister redness arising from a ravine a little way in advance—dull and lurid like a flame in sunlight. It was neither Moloch nor Mephistopheles, but Diggory Venn.
The description Hardy gives of Eustacia walking the heath is filled with evocative visual language. The term "tanned wild" paints a very specific picture of the moor’s colors. It reflects its muted, earthy tones, which themselves mirror Eustacia’s confusion and frustration. In a way, the moor in this scene is a visual representation of her emotional landscape: wild and muddled.
Hardy also uses an allusion to compare Eustacia’s restlessness in this scene to that of Ahasuerus, the "Wandering Jew." This legendary figure was cursed to walk the earth until the Second Coming for mocking Jesus. Eustacia's internal turmoil and inability to find satisfaction or peace in her current circumstances mirror some aspects of this character’s wanderings.
The allusions that Hardy makes directly after this are to “Moloch,” an ancient god associated with child sacrifice, and “Mephistopheles,” a demon from Christopher Marlowe's play "Dr. Faustus." These conjure up images of the supernatural and the dangerous. They also highligh Eustacia’s shock at running into someone else on the heath. Venn isn’t a demon or a god, but Hardy implies she thought he could have been either for a moment. These allusions contribute to the uneasy and confused feeling of the scene, and frame Eustacia’s confused emotions at this point in the book.
In Book 3, Chapter 1, the narrator makes an allusion to the Greek dramatist Æschylus. In doing so, Hardy highlights the stark disparity between idealized life as imagined by the ancient Greeks and the bitter realities of everyday existence in The Return of the Native:
The truth seems to be that a long line of disillusive centuries has permanently displaced the Hellenic idea of life, or whatever it may be called. What the Greeks only suspected we know well; what their Æschylus imagined our nursery children feel. That old-fashioned revelling in the general situation grows less and less possible as we uncover the defects of natural laws, and see the quandary that man is in by their operation.
Æschylus was a thinker renowned for his profound explorations of human suffering. He is sometimes called the “Father of Tragedy” because of the harsh and provocative operations of Fate in his plays. By referencing him, Hardy draws a parallel between these classical dramas and the lives of the people of Egdon Heath. The narrator's lament over the displacement of the “Hellenic” (Greek) idea of life—combined with the assertion that "what their Æschylus imagined our nursery children feel"—highlights a significant change in Victorian society from that of Ancient Greece.
Hardy’s allusion suggests that the complexities and tragedies reserved for adulthood in Æschylus’s time are present for Hardy’s characters from childhood. It's a commentary on the increasing disillusionment and harshness of the world, where romantic ideals are replaced by the sobering realities of 19th-century life. There is no more "old fashioned revelling" to be had, the narrator grimly tells the reader, after the "disillusive centuries" have wiped away all enjoyment and romance.
In this scene from Book 4, Chapter 5, Mrs. Yeobright observes Wildeve's curious actions as he roams around Clym and Eustacia's house. In this passage, Hardy makes a series of allusions to famous people and places. He does so to emphasize the significance of Wildeve's interest in the home:
His manner was peculiar, being hesitating, and not that of a person come on business or by invitation. His next action was to survey the house with interest, and then walk round and scan the outer boundary of the garden, as one might have done had it been the birthplace of Shakespeare, the prison of Mary Stuart, or the Château of Hougomont.
The passage contains several allusions to notable British figures and locations. These include references to William Shakespeare, Mary Stuart (a famous pretender to the English throne), and the Château of Hougomont (a site associated with the Battle of Waterloo).
Wildeve's behavior as he "survey[s]" the house suggests that Clym and Eustacia's dwelling is disproportionately important to him. This description of Wildeve's manner—hesitating and marked by curiosity—suggests that he regards the house with the same interest one might have toward Shakespeare’s birthplace, the prison of Mary Stuart, or the Château of Hougomont. By comparing the house to these historically significant places, the author conveys the intensity of Wildeve’s obsession with Eustacia. It’s just an ordinary house, but Wildeve's behavior is suspicious. He is treating it as if it were a museum or a historical landmark, and doing so obviously enough to be remarked from a distance by Mrs. Yeobright.
