In Book 1, Chapter 1, Hardy paints a vivid picture of Egdon Heath using metaphors of architecture and detailed visual imagery of the sky touching the earth:
Overhead the hollow stretch of whitish cloud shutting out the sky was as a tent which had the whole heath for its floor. The heaven being spread with this pallid screen, the earth with the darkest vegetation, their meeting-line at the horizon was clearly marked. In such contrast the heath wore the appearance of an instalment of night which had taken up its place before its astronomical hour was come: darkness had to a great extent arrived hereon, while day stood distinct in the sky.
The metaphor of the clouds as a "tent" over the heath emphasizes the moorland's dominance over the sky. Rather than being underneath it in a way that implies inferiority, the sky actually shelters it. Hardy’s visual language underscores the stark contrast between the darkness of the heath and the brightness of the sky, as they come together in a “meeting-line” that is “clearly marked.” Indeed, the heath actually always looks as if it's already nighttime, although "day stood distinct in the sky." This contrast between earth and sky reinforces the heath’s alignment with darkness. In these descriptions, Hardy is suggesting—even before any major characters are introduced—that while powerful and majestic, Egdon Heath is in some ways a profoundly unpleasant place.
In Book 1, Chapter 1, Hardy begins to outline the novel’s intense preoccupation with the geography and aura of Egdon Heath. This grassland is an area so powerful and affecting it’s almost a character in itself. In the following passage, the narrator personifies the heath, uses hyperbolic language, and employs vivid imagery to bring it to life for the reader:
The face of the heath by its mere complexion added half-an-hour to eve; it could in like manner retard the dawn, sadden noon, anticipate the frowning of storms scarcely generated, and intensify the opacity of a moonless midnight to a cause of shaking and dread.
The heath is personified as having a “face,” as if it is a person that can make expressions and express emotions. The word “face” here also refers to the flat expanse of its grassland, combining the natural with the supernatural aspect of its “character.” The heath is so powerful, Hardy implies, that it can alter one's perception of time, seasons, daylight, and even weather patterns. This is hyperbolic language , as no area of land can actually “intensify the opacity of a moonless midnight.” However, if anywhere could do this, it seems the heath actually might be able to, at least in the world of the novel. The visual imagery of this passage creates a stark contrast between day and night and between transparency and opacity; the heath is a place of juxtaposition and extremes.
In Book 1, Chapter 2, Thomas Hardy employs both a simile and several instances of sensory language to depict Captain Vye, Eustacia's grandfather, walking along the road to Egdon:
Along the road walked an old man. He was white-headed as a mountain, bowed in the shoulders, and faded in general aspect. He wore a glazed hat, an ancient boat-cloak, and shoes; his brass buttons bearing an anchor upon their face. In his hand was a silver-headed walking-stick, which he used as a veritable third leg, perseveringly dotting the ground with its point at every few inches interval.
Hardy's use of simile in this passage aligns the Captain with the natural world. Although he's an elderly man of average size, Hardy describes him as being as "white-headed as a mountain." This visual imagery of snow and cragginess suggests not just his advanced years, but his enduring presence. He is old and has had many experiences that have "bowed" and bent him.
What's more, the Captain's walking stick serves as a "veritable third leg," further emphasizing his old age. The visual imagery of the scene conjures an image of the man as a collection of old, worn, but still functional things. He is "perseverin[g]" in all aspects. The implied auditory imagery of the stick tapping—"dotting" the ground—adds a subtly rhythmic quality to the scene, capturing the Captain's slow, steady pace.
In Book 1, Chapter 3, Hardy uses metaphors of clothing and contrasting visual imagery to create a vivid, primitive scene as the first bonfires are lit on Guy Fawkes night in Egdon:
The first tall flame from Blackbarrow sprang into the sky, attracting all eyes that had been fixed on the distant conflagrations back to their own attempt in the same kind. The cheerful blaze streaked the inner surface of the human circle—now increased by other stragglers, male and female—with its own gold livery, and even overlaid the dark turf around with a lively luminousness, which softened off into obscurity where the barrow rounded downwards out of sight.
The metaphor of the flame's "gold livery" presents the bonfire as if it is a splendid coat (a "livery" is a uniform worn by officials or servants). This language emphasizes the richness of the scene’s colors and the warmth of the fire. The stark visual contrast between the darkness of barrow and moor and the light of the flame intensifies the festive atmosphere, making it feel both primal and almost ritualistic.
As Hardy later mentions, this scene evokes the "ashes of the first British pyre," suggesting a connection to ancient, primal rituals. This connection underscores the novel's exploration of the enduring influence of the past on the present. When bonfires recur later in the text, images of caves, hunts, and wounds accompany them, further evoking the prehistoric.
The limited reach of the flame Hardy describes here also highlights the isolation of Egdon from the wider world. Despite the intensity of the fire and its effect on the surroundings, its circle of light and the humanity it illuminates remains a small, enclosed ring within the blackness of the heath.
The recurring motif of bonfires in this novel represents passion, secrecy, danger, and the primal instincts of the characters. Bonfires are bright, intense, and have an inherent potential for destruction. Hardy depicts them in lavish detail, employing visual imagery, metaphors, and similes when describing them and the events they point toward. The vivid visual language associated with fire creates a strong impression on the reader. For example, in this passage from Book 1, Chapter 3, Hardy describes a night-time scene on the heath as the Guy Fawkes Night bonfires are set ablaze:
Red suns and tufts of fire one by one began to arise, flecking the whole country round. They were the bonfires of other parishes and hamlets that were engaged in the same sort of commemoration. Some were distant, and stood in a dense atmosphere, so that bundles of pale straw-like beams radiated around them in the shape of a fan. Some were large and near, glowing scarlet-red from the shade, like wounds in a black hide. [...] These tinctured the silent bosom of the clouds above them and lit up their ephemeral caves, which seemed thenceforth to become scalding caldrons.
All of the visual imagery in this passage invokes a starkly contrasted picture of black night and glowing red flame. The bonfires are so intense that they even tint or “tincture” the “caves” of the clouds in the sky, overtaking the entire scene. Hardy evokes the primal with this metaphor of the clouds as "caves." The denizens of the heath have, in a sense, reverted to an ancient state of shelter and flame. The bonfires are also made to seem like an inherent part of the scenery. They sprout from the ground and the sky organically like “red suns and tufts of fire.” Although they've been made by humans, they are also a natural part of the heath's visual landscape.
Hardy furthers this description with the use of visual language in two similes. The fires make the interior of the clouds seem like “scalding caldrons,” and the nearby ones are so bright that they slash through the night like “wounds in a black hide.” The scale of the scene is enormous, as it stretches from “distant” villages to the “bosom” of the sky. The bonfires, which happen regularly throughout the novel, mirror the passionate, often destructive relationships among the characters. They "wound" and "scald" the night as Hardy's characters wound and scald one another.
Hardy associates bonfires in particular with the affair between Eustacia and Wildeve. This pair signal each other for their secret meetings with these fires. The darkness of the heath, the heat of the flames, and the nature of their love affair all become tangled up in this web of images, metaphors and similes. All is hot, dark, primal, and painful in this relationship. For example, in Book 1, Chapter 6, Wildeve and Eustacia meet by a fire:
‘I have come,’ said the man, who was no other than Wildeve. ‘You give me no peace. Why do you not leave me alone? I have seen your bonfire all the evening.’ The words were not without emotion, and retained their level tone as if by a careful equipoise between imminent extremes.
Eustacia and Wildeve cannot help but seek one another out. Wildeve can have “no peace” when Eustacia is around, even though he knows their relationship is immoral. The danger of the bonfire—which always threatens to spread and damage its surroundings—is reflected in this pairing.
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.
The recurring motif of bonfires in this novel represents passion, secrecy, danger, and the primal instincts of the characters. Bonfires are bright, intense, and have an inherent potential for destruction. Hardy depicts them in lavish detail, employing visual imagery, metaphors, and similes when describing them and the events they point toward. The vivid visual language associated with fire creates a strong impression on the reader. For example, in this passage from Book 1, Chapter 3, Hardy describes a night-time scene on the heath as the Guy Fawkes Night bonfires are set ablaze:
Red suns and tufts of fire one by one began to arise, flecking the whole country round. They were the bonfires of other parishes and hamlets that were engaged in the same sort of commemoration. Some were distant, and stood in a dense atmosphere, so that bundles of pale straw-like beams radiated around them in the shape of a fan. Some were large and near, glowing scarlet-red from the shade, like wounds in a black hide. [...] These tinctured the silent bosom of the clouds above them and lit up their ephemeral caves, which seemed thenceforth to become scalding caldrons.
All of the visual imagery in this passage invokes a starkly contrasted picture of black night and glowing red flame. The bonfires are so intense that they even tint or “tincture” the “caves” of the clouds in the sky, overtaking the entire scene. Hardy evokes the primal with this metaphor of the clouds as "caves." The denizens of the heath have, in a sense, reverted to an ancient state of shelter and flame. The bonfires are also made to seem like an inherent part of the scenery. They sprout from the ground and the sky organically like “red suns and tufts of fire.” Although they've been made by humans, they are also a natural part of the heath's visual landscape.
Hardy furthers this description with the use of visual language in two similes. The fires make the interior of the clouds seem like “scalding caldrons,” and the nearby ones are so bright that they slash through the night like “wounds in a black hide.” The scale of the scene is enormous, as it stretches from “distant” villages to the “bosom” of the sky. The bonfires, which happen regularly throughout the novel, mirror the passionate, often destructive relationships among the characters. They "wound" and "scald" the night as Hardy's characters wound and scald one another.
Hardy associates bonfires in particular with the affair between Eustacia and Wildeve. This pair signal each other for their secret meetings with these fires. The darkness of the heath, the heat of the flames, and the nature of their love affair all become tangled up in this web of images, metaphors and similes. All is hot, dark, primal, and painful in this relationship. For example, in Book 1, Chapter 6, Wildeve and Eustacia meet by a fire:
‘I have come,’ said the man, who was no other than Wildeve. ‘You give me no peace. Why do you not leave me alone? I have seen your bonfire all the evening.’ The words were not without emotion, and retained their level tone as if by a careful equipoise between imminent extremes.
Eustacia and Wildeve cannot help but seek one another out. Wildeve can have “no peace” when Eustacia is around, even though he knows their relationship is immoral. The danger of the bonfire—which always threatens to spread and damage its surroundings—is reflected in this pairing.
In The Return of the Native, Thomas Hardy paints vivid character portraits of two starkly different women, Eustacia Vye and Thomasin Yeobright. These characters are foils for each other, each emphasizing the traits of the other through their contrasting natures. Their differences are apparent not only in their characters, but also in the imagery and metaphors Hardy uses to describe them physically. Describing Eustacia in Book 1, Chapter 7, Hardy writes:
Eustacia Vye was the raw material of a divinity. On Olympus she would have done well with a little preparation. She had the passions and instincts which make a model goddess, that is, those which make not quite a model woman. [...] There would have been the same inequality of lot, the same heaping up of favours here, of contumely there, the same generosity before justice, the same perpetual dilemmas, the same captious alternation of caresses and blows as we endure now. She was in person full-limbed and somewhat heavy; without ruddiness, as without pallor; and soft to the touch as a cloud.
Eustacia is the embodiment of ambition, absolutely driven by her desire for change. She's depicted as almost divine, with “passions and instincts” more like a goddess than a normal woman. Physically, she's described as “full-limbed” and “heavy”, while still being “soft as a cloud.” This creates a disconcerting conflict when a reader tries to picture her: she is at once ethereal and heavy, “full-limbed” and “soft.” This confusion in her appearance reflects the perplexities in her character. Although she's romantic and quite loving, she’s also self-centered, ambitious, and is always looking for a way to better her situation.
Eustacia's ambitious and restive nature contrasts sharply with Thomasin's contentment and adherence to tradition. Thomasin's physical descriptions only further emphasize the opposition in their characters. When Hardy is describing her in Book 2 Chapter 8, he writes:
The sun, where it could catch it, made a mirror of Thomasin's hair, which she always wore braided. It was braided according to a calendric system: the more important the day the more numerous the strands in the braid. On ordinary working-days she braided it in threes; on ordinary Sundays in fours; at May-polings, gipsyings, and the like she braided it in fives. Years ago she had said that when she married she would braid it in sevens. It was braided in sevens today.
Thomasin, as this passage outlines, is the epitome of stability and tradition. Hardy uses a metaphor to describe the innocent visual image of her hair shining in the sun, which "makes a mirror" out of it. This smooth hair, carefully braided according to the “importance” of the day, reflects her orderly, predictable nature. Hardy even repeats the word "braided" twice, emphasizing her alignment with routine and repetition. She's loyal, kindhearted, and grounded, representing the conventional values of her community in Egdon Heath. Whereas Eustacia is aligned with "clouds" and "goddesses," Thomasin is described in the terms of the cycles of the earth. Eustacia is exciting and unpredictable, whereas even Thomasin's hairstyle follows a calendar.
Eustacia Vye is linked to the imagery of flames, fire and heat throughout the novel. This motif—and the metaphors and similes of fire Hardy uses when it occurs—refers to her inflammatory character. It also gestures to her passionate nature and her tendency to act destructively when out of control. In Book 1, Chapter 7, the narrator comments that:
Assuming that the souls of men and women were visible essences, you could fancy the colour of Eustacia’s soul to be flame-like. The sparks from it that rose into her dark pupils gave the same impression.
The tactile and visual imagery of Eustacia's soul being "flame-like," hot enough to send sparks rising "into her pupils" reinforces the association of her personality with heat. As opposed to other female characters in the novel, Eustacia often publicly expresses anger and discontent. This "heat" is apparently visible in her personal appearance, as well as in her words. Later in Book 1, this image of Eustacia being internally aflame reappears:
‘Ah, my life!’ said Eustacia, with a laugh which unclosed her lips, so that the sun shone into her mouth as into a tulip, and lent it a similar scarlet fire.
The simile in this passage compares the sun shining into Eustacia's mouth to sunlight breaking through the thin petals of a tulip. Both images evoke delicacy and vivacity for the reader. Like a flame, she's pure energy, but like a tulip, she's fragile. Even when Eustacia is a flower, she's still a fire. This description also emphasizes Eustacia's natural beauty and sensuality. Tulips are often associated with sexual love, which aligns with Eustacia's sensual nature.
It is not just her personal "fire" that Hardy focuses on, however. The other motif with which Eustacia is often linked is that of bonfires. Her affair with Damon Wildeve is delineated by clandestine meetings at night around open flames. Eustacia's association with fire, especially given this, is also a subversion of the "darkness" Hardy ascribes to her. She is a character made up of contrasts, like a bonfire burning on the heath—she is firelight and darkness.
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 the following passage from Book 1, Chapter 7, Hardy establishes the motif of darkness, which becomes a regular occurrence in The Return of the Native. The narrator employs dark visual imagery and several metaphors and similes referencing darkness to underscore Eustacia Vye's inner turmoil:
Egdon was her Hades, and since coming there she had imbibed much of what was dark in its tone, though inwardly and eternally unreconciled thereto. Her appearance accorded well with this smouldering rebelliousness, and the shady splendour of her beauty was the real surface of the sad and stifled warmth within her.
In this passage, Hardy utilizes the metaphor of Hades—the underworld in Greek mythology—to depict Egdon Heath as a hellish place for Eustacia. The dark imagery used to describe Egdon Heath reflects its effect on Eustacia, as she is "stifled" and "shady" within it. The dark "tone" of the place, which she has "imbibed," refers to the drama, secrets, and danger associated with the heath. The "shady splendour" of Eustacia's beauty likens her visually to the moorland, which is both beautiful and frightening in its darkness.
The motif of darkness also appears in Book 1, Chapter 8. Hardy's narrator further explores the link between darkness and the moor's menacing aspects as Johnny Nunsuch walks home alone at night:
The thorn-bushes which arose in his path from time to time were less satisfactory, for they whistled gloomily, and had a ghastly habit after dark of putting on the shapes of jumping madmen, sprawling giants, and hideous cripples.
In this passage, the tactile and auditory imagery of the heath being filled with "thorn-bushes" and "whistling gloomily" serves to illustrate its eerie, perilous nature. Darkness is linked to the theme of mixed communications and deception in this novel: things not being as they seem in the night is a physical manifestation of this. This sensory language of darkness emanating from the heath itself is also consistent with its effect on Eustacia. There's a sense that the heath is a bad influence on some of those who live on it, "darkening" their lives.
Finally, in Book 4, Chapter 1, Hardy extends the motif of darkness to the cycles of natural life on the moor. He uses a simile to liken the cycles of the year on Egdon Heath to the periods within a day:
It was the one season of the year, and the one weather of the season, in which the heath was gorgeous. This flowering period represented the second or noontide division in the cycle of those superficial changes which alone were possible here; it followed the green or young-fern period, representing the morn, and preceded the brown period, when the heath-bells and ferns would wear the russet tinges of evening; to be in turn displaced by the dark hue of the winter period, representing night.
Here, the "dark hue" of winter refers to both the "dark" season of the year and the darkening of each evening. Hardy describes the natural cycles of life on the moor through visual imagery of blooming and rotting. This makes the moor seem as if it is the central, controlling aspect of life for Hardy's characters, both their clock and their calendar. The moor's darkness is never far away. Even in the "flowering period" of summer, any move away from darkness is "superficial" and temporary.
In the following passage from Book 1, Chapter 7, Hardy establishes the motif of darkness, which becomes a regular occurrence in The Return of the Native. The narrator employs dark visual imagery and several metaphors and similes referencing darkness to underscore Eustacia Vye's inner turmoil:
Egdon was her Hades, and since coming there she had imbibed much of what was dark in its tone, though inwardly and eternally unreconciled thereto. Her appearance accorded well with this smouldering rebelliousness, and the shady splendour of her beauty was the real surface of the sad and stifled warmth within her.
In this passage, Hardy utilizes the metaphor of Hades—the underworld in Greek mythology—to depict Egdon Heath as a hellish place for Eustacia. The dark imagery used to describe Egdon Heath reflects its effect on Eustacia, as she is "stifled" and "shady" within it. The dark "tone" of the place, which she has "imbibed," refers to the drama, secrets, and danger associated with the heath. The "shady splendour" of Eustacia's beauty likens her visually to the moorland, which is both beautiful and frightening in its darkness.
The motif of darkness also appears in Book 1, Chapter 8. Hardy's narrator further explores the link between darkness and the moor's menacing aspects as Johnny Nunsuch walks home alone at night:
The thorn-bushes which arose in his path from time to time were less satisfactory, for they whistled gloomily, and had a ghastly habit after dark of putting on the shapes of jumping madmen, sprawling giants, and hideous cripples.
In this passage, the tactile and auditory imagery of the heath being filled with "thorn-bushes" and "whistling gloomily" serves to illustrate its eerie, perilous nature. Darkness is linked to the theme of mixed communications and deception in this novel: things not being as they seem in the night is a physical manifestation of this. This sensory language of darkness emanating from the heath itself is also consistent with its effect on Eustacia. There's a sense that the heath is a bad influence on some of those who live on it, "darkening" their lives.
Finally, in Book 4, Chapter 1, Hardy extends the motif of darkness to the cycles of natural life on the moor. He uses a simile to liken the cycles of the year on Egdon Heath to the periods within a day:
It was the one season of the year, and the one weather of the season, in which the heath was gorgeous. This flowering period represented the second or noontide division in the cycle of those superficial changes which alone were possible here; it followed the green or young-fern period, representing the morn, and preceded the brown period, when the heath-bells and ferns would wear the russet tinges of evening; to be in turn displaced by the dark hue of the winter period, representing night.
Here, the "dark hue" of winter refers to both the "dark" season of the year and the darkening of each evening. Hardy describes the natural cycles of life on the moor through visual imagery of blooming and rotting. This makes the moor seem as if it is the central, controlling aspect of life for Hardy's characters, both their clock and their calendar. The moor's darkness is never far away. Even in the "flowering period" of summer, any move away from darkness is "superficial" and temporary.
Eustacia Vye is linked to the imagery of flames, fire and heat throughout the novel. This motif—and the metaphors and similes of fire Hardy uses when it occurs—refers to her inflammatory character. It also gestures to her passionate nature and her tendency to act destructively when out of control. In Book 1, Chapter 7, the narrator comments that:
Assuming that the souls of men and women were visible essences, you could fancy the colour of Eustacia’s soul to be flame-like. The sparks from it that rose into her dark pupils gave the same impression.
The tactile and visual imagery of Eustacia's soul being "flame-like," hot enough to send sparks rising "into her pupils" reinforces the association of her personality with heat. As opposed to other female characters in the novel, Eustacia often publicly expresses anger and discontent. This "heat" is apparently visible in her personal appearance, as well as in her words. Later in Book 1, this image of Eustacia being internally aflame reappears:
‘Ah, my life!’ said Eustacia, with a laugh which unclosed her lips, so that the sun shone into her mouth as into a tulip, and lent it a similar scarlet fire.
The simile in this passage compares the sun shining into Eustacia's mouth to sunlight breaking through the thin petals of a tulip. Both images evoke delicacy and vivacity for the reader. Like a flame, she's pure energy, but like a tulip, she's fragile. Even when Eustacia is a flower, she's still a fire. This description also emphasizes Eustacia's natural beauty and sensuality. Tulips are often associated with sexual love, which aligns with Eustacia's sensual nature.
It is not just her personal "fire" that Hardy focuses on, however. The other motif with which Eustacia is often linked is that of bonfires. Her affair with Damon Wildeve is delineated by clandestine meetings at night around open flames. Eustacia's association with fire, especially given this, is also a subversion of the "darkness" Hardy ascribes to her. She is a character made up of contrasts, like a bonfire burning on the heath—she is firelight and darkness.
In Book 2, Chapter 2 of The Return of the Native, Thomas Hardy uses visual and tactile imagery to depict Thomasin's strength of character in the face of her as-yet-unrealized marriage. As Thomasin busies herself with a mundane task in her aunt’s apple-loft, Hardy's narrator describes the scene:
The loft was lighted by a semicircular hole, through which the pigeons crept to their lodgings in the same high quarters of the premises; and from this hole the sun shone in a bright yellow patch upon the figure of the maiden as she knelt and plunged her naked arms into the soft brown fern, which, from its abundance, was used on Egdon in packing away stores of all kinds.
The visual imagery of innocent, nesting birds and of the "patch" of bright yellow sun shining on Thomasin points to her purity and simplicity. All the imagery here is warm and nurturing, reflecting her inherent innocence and goodness. The image of her “naked” but chaste flesh exposed to the sun underscores her vulnerability in the face of her troubled love life.
Meanwhile, the tactile imagery of Thomasin "plunging" her arms into the soft, warm fern communicates her active engagement with her surroundings. She does so even though at this point in the novel she is deeply troubled by romantic woes. In contrast to Eustacia, who misbehaves or goes for long walks when she is displeased, Thomasin gets on with her work. This scene is one of many moments where the author emphasizes this character’s groundedness and practicality.
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 6, Hardy utilizes rich visual and tactile imagery, a metaphor of Paradise, and similes describing protection to depict the inviting scene of an Egdon Christmas party. His description of the “settle,” a type of wooden bench traditionally placed by the fire, offers a sense of warmth and safety. This is juxtaposed with the harsh conditions outside, as the narrator relates:
At the other side of the chimney stood the settle, which is the necessary supplement to a fire so open that nothing less than a strong breeze will carry up the smoke. It is, to the hearths of old-fashioned cavernous fireplaces, what the east belt of trees is to the exposed country estate, or the north wall to the garden. Outside the settle candles gutter, locks of hair wave, young women shiver, and old men sneeze. Inside is Paradise.
Through Hardy's rich tactile and visual imagery in this passage, the settle is painted as a protective and comforting element in the room. It provides shelter from the smoke of the fire and the noise of the outside world. The vivid sensory details of the world outside the party are as unpleasant as the settle is lovely: “candles gutter, locks of hair wave, young women shiver, and old men sneeze.” Inside the settle is warm and pleasant, but the outside world is cold and cruel. The metaphor of the settle as “Paradise” furthers the idea of it as a haven of warmth and safety. Using this metaphor, Hardy transforms a mundane household object into a symbol of comfort and security. It’s not just a place to sit: in Egdon Heath, the settle is “Paradise.”
As if this were insufficient, Hardy also employs two similes to further emphasize the benefits of the settle. The narrator compares the settle to the “east belt of trees” on an estate and to the “north wall of a garden.” These comparisons suggest the settle's function as a protector" it shelters people, in the way that trees shield an estate from harsh eastern winds or a north wall provides a buffer against cold gusts for a garden.
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 The Return of the Native, Thomas Hardy paints vivid character portraits of two starkly different women, Eustacia Vye and Thomasin Yeobright. These characters are foils for each other, each emphasizing the traits of the other through their contrasting natures. Their differences are apparent not only in their characters, but also in the imagery and metaphors Hardy uses to describe them physically. Describing Eustacia in Book 1, Chapter 7, Hardy writes:
Eustacia Vye was the raw material of a divinity. On Olympus she would have done well with a little preparation. She had the passions and instincts which make a model goddess, that is, those which make not quite a model woman. [...] There would have been the same inequality of lot, the same heaping up of favours here, of contumely there, the same generosity before justice, the same perpetual dilemmas, the same captious alternation of caresses and blows as we endure now. She was in person full-limbed and somewhat heavy; without ruddiness, as without pallor; and soft to the touch as a cloud.
Eustacia is the embodiment of ambition, absolutely driven by her desire for change. She's depicted as almost divine, with “passions and instincts” more like a goddess than a normal woman. Physically, she's described as “full-limbed” and “heavy”, while still being “soft as a cloud.” This creates a disconcerting conflict when a reader tries to picture her: she is at once ethereal and heavy, “full-limbed” and “soft.” This confusion in her appearance reflects the perplexities in her character. Although she's romantic and quite loving, she’s also self-centered, ambitious, and is always looking for a way to better her situation.
Eustacia's ambitious and restive nature contrasts sharply with Thomasin's contentment and adherence to tradition. Thomasin's physical descriptions only further emphasize the opposition in their characters. When Hardy is describing her in Book 2 Chapter 8, he writes:
The sun, where it could catch it, made a mirror of Thomasin's hair, which she always wore braided. It was braided according to a calendric system: the more important the day the more numerous the strands in the braid. On ordinary working-days she braided it in threes; on ordinary Sundays in fours; at May-polings, gipsyings, and the like she braided it in fives. Years ago she had said that when she married she would braid it in sevens. It was braided in sevens today.
Thomasin, as this passage outlines, is the epitome of stability and tradition. Hardy uses a metaphor to describe the innocent visual image of her hair shining in the sun, which "makes a mirror" out of it. This smooth hair, carefully braided according to the “importance” of the day, reflects her orderly, predictable nature. Hardy even repeats the word "braided" twice, emphasizing her alignment with routine and repetition. She's loyal, kindhearted, and grounded, representing the conventional values of her community in Egdon Heath. Whereas Eustacia is aligned with "clouds" and "goddesses," Thomasin is described in the terms of the cycles of the earth. Eustacia is exciting and unpredictable, whereas even Thomasin's hairstyle follows a calendar.
In this passage from Book 3, Chapter 3, Hardy describes an important encounter of Clym's with Eustacia. The author uses visual imagery, a metaphor of sharpness and foreshadowing to hint at the complexity and pain that will characterize their relationship:
The lowest beams of the winter sun threw the shadow of the house over the palings, across the grass margin of the heath, and far up the vale, where the chimney outlines and those of the surrounding tree-tops stretched forth in long dark prongs.
The imagery of the winter sun casting long, cold shadows across the landscape underscores the notion of an impending change in Clym's life. The scenery of his childhood, once familiar and comforting, is now transformed into something sinister and foreboding. The house's shadow is thrown “over the palings” and into the heath. This reflects the influence of Eustacia on his perception of the world around him and also invokes the heath’s aura of danger and darkness. This change in Clym's landscape foreshadows the difficulties and challenges that his marriage will bring.
The visual and tactile imagery of the contrast between the "cold" light of the sun and the dark, menacing "prongs" of the trees and chimneys adds to the ominous atmosphere. The metaphor Hardy uses here aligns with his previous description of Egdon in Book 1 as Eustacia’s “Hades.” Now that Clym is associated with her, his childhood home also takes on the visual imagery of horns and pitchforks. Furthermore, the use of the word "prongs" suggests danger and sharpness, further emphasizing the harm that's approaching because of Clym and Eustacia's impending marriage. Now she's in his life, even Clym's home is "cold," "dark," and unsafe.
In the following passage from Book 1, Chapter 7, Hardy establishes the motif of darkness, which becomes a regular occurrence in The Return of the Native. The narrator employs dark visual imagery and several metaphors and similes referencing darkness to underscore Eustacia Vye's inner turmoil:
Egdon was her Hades, and since coming there she had imbibed much of what was dark in its tone, though inwardly and eternally unreconciled thereto. Her appearance accorded well with this smouldering rebelliousness, and the shady splendour of her beauty was the real surface of the sad and stifled warmth within her.
In this passage, Hardy utilizes the metaphor of Hades—the underworld in Greek mythology—to depict Egdon Heath as a hellish place for Eustacia. The dark imagery used to describe Egdon Heath reflects its effect on Eustacia, as she is "stifled" and "shady" within it. The dark "tone" of the place, which she has "imbibed," refers to the drama, secrets, and danger associated with the heath. The "shady splendour" of Eustacia's beauty likens her visually to the moorland, which is both beautiful and frightening in its darkness.
The motif of darkness also appears in Book 1, Chapter 8. Hardy's narrator further explores the link between darkness and the moor's menacing aspects as Johnny Nunsuch walks home alone at night:
The thorn-bushes which arose in his path from time to time were less satisfactory, for they whistled gloomily, and had a ghastly habit after dark of putting on the shapes of jumping madmen, sprawling giants, and hideous cripples.
In this passage, the tactile and auditory imagery of the heath being filled with "thorn-bushes" and "whistling gloomily" serves to illustrate its eerie, perilous nature. Darkness is linked to the theme of mixed communications and deception in this novel: things not being as they seem in the night is a physical manifestation of this. This sensory language of darkness emanating from the heath itself is also consistent with its effect on Eustacia. There's a sense that the heath is a bad influence on some of those who live on it, "darkening" their lives.
Finally, in Book 4, Chapter 1, Hardy extends the motif of darkness to the cycles of natural life on the moor. He uses a simile to liken the cycles of the year on Egdon Heath to the periods within a day:
It was the one season of the year, and the one weather of the season, in which the heath was gorgeous. This flowering period represented the second or noontide division in the cycle of those superficial changes which alone were possible here; it followed the green or young-fern period, representing the morn, and preceded the brown period, when the heath-bells and ferns would wear the russet tinges of evening; to be in turn displaced by the dark hue of the winter period, representing night.
Here, the "dark hue" of winter refers to both the "dark" season of the year and the darkening of each evening. Hardy describes the natural cycles of life on the moor through visual imagery of blooming and rotting. This makes the moor seem as if it is the central, controlling aspect of life for Hardy's characters, both their clock and their calendar. The moor's darkness is never far away. Even in the "flowering period" of summer, any move away from darkness is "superficial" and temporary.
In the following passage from Book 5, Chapter 1, Hardy employs hyperbolic language, tactile imagery, and a simile of disease to convey Eustacia's profound guilt and shame at keeping secrets from Clym:
There escaped from Eustacia one of those shivering sighs which used to shake her like a pestilent blast. She had not yet told.
In the aftermath of Mrs. Yeobright's death, Eustacia grapples with overwhelming guilt and the weight of untold truths. The tactile imagery of the "shivering sigh" that Hardy uses here evokes a chilly breeze for the reader. This sensory language highlights the emotional impact that keeping secrets has had on Eustacia. Instead of telling Clym the truth, she can only "shiver" and "sigh." The “pestilence” in the sigh also signifies the deep-rooted remorse that Eustacia lives with. Using a simile to compare the sigh to a "pestilent blast" invokes the idea of disease (since the word "pestilence" refers to fatal and widespread diseases like the bubonic plague), suggesting that Eustacia's guilt has infected her and can't be cured until she has "told."
The exaggerated imagery and similes emphasize the magnitude of her emotional burden: guilt is not actually a disease, but to her it feels like one. Hardy employs this hyperbolic language to underline the depth of Eustacia's guilt and shame. In this passage, she feels a sense of overwhelming remorse that weighs heavily upon her and “shivers” through her.
In this piece of dialogue from Book 5, Chapter 2, Hardy conveys the heartbreaking dramatic irony of Clym Yeobright's confusion and grief about his mother. He does so using visual imagery, pathos, and a simile of imprisonment:
‘If there was one thing wanting to bewilder me it was this incomprehensible thing!… Diggory, if we, who remain alive, were only allowed to hold conversation with the dead—just once, a bare minute, even through a screen of iron bars, as with persons in prison—what we might learn! How many who now ride smiling would hide their heads!
In this scene, Clym is talking to Diggory Venn about his longing to communicate with his deceased mother. He is hurt and confused about his situation due to conflicting evidence and misinformation. Dramatic irony plays a significant role in this passage, as the reader is aware that Clym would not be pleased with the truth if he were to uncover it. This irony adds depth to Clym's desire to communicate with his mother and to get to the bottom of things. It's also another reference to the theme of Clym's failing "sight," as he can't see the whole of the situation no matter what he tries.
Hardy employs the visual language of imprisonment when Clym describes a "screen of iron bars" separating the living from the dead. This vivid image emphasizes the stark physical separation between the two realms. However, it also signals the imagined possibility of messages passing between the living and the dead “through” the bars. With this image, Hardy also refers to the emotional and spiritual boundaries that prevent Clym from achieving the connections he seeks.
Hardy also uses a simile to strengthen the sense of separation between the living and the dead, comparing the dead to "persons in prison." This comparison heightens the emotional impact of the passage, emphasizing how trapped Clym feels by his circumstances. The author appeals strongly to the readers’ sense of pathos in this scene, as Clym's yearning to communicate with his mother—and Mrs Yeobright's recent, unhappy demise itself—makes them feel pity and regret.
In the following passage from Book 6, Chapter 2 of The Return of the Native, Hardy employs the visual imagery of pleasant, rolling moorland. He does so to romanticize the tension between Thomasin Yeobright and Diggory Venn when they meet by chance by the road. He also foreshadows their later romantic relationship in this passage:
This conversation had passed in a hollow of the heath near the old Roman road, a place much frequented by Thomasin. And it might have been observed that she did not in future walk that way less often from having met Venn there now. Whether or not Venn abstained from riding thither because he had met Thomasin in the same place might easily have been guessed from her proceedings about two months later in the same year.
Through the visual imagery of the "hollow," Hardy creates a vivid depiction of the setting. The passage describes the encounter between Thomasin and Venn as happening in “a hollow of the heath.” Rather than merely being a standard roadside run-in, this sets the interaction in a romantic and inviting environment. Instead of being frightening, Egdon Heath now seems welcoming, containing a cozy “hollow” where pleasant things happen. The visual language of horror and despair has been replaced with that of softness and pliancy.
Hardy also subtly employs foreshadowing here, as the nature of this meeting hints at the future relationship between Thomasin and Diggory. This is quickly proven correct, as the passage's timeline jumps abruptly forward to events that occur two months later. This shift creates a sense of anticipation and intrigue for the reader, setting the stage for the development of the relationship between Thomasin and Venn.
Their meeting by the hollow also happens near a symbol of ancient England, the old Roman road. Though they meet by the “old” road, Diggory is travelling to his destination on the newer one that's overlaid on parts of it. The language of antiquity used here evokes a sense of timelessness for the reader. It also foreshadows the new “road” of marriage Diggory and Thomasin are about to travel together, one that overlays parts of their past.
