unmarried from Angelbury. The chapter ends with her aunt asking, “Now Thomasin . . . what’s the meaning of this disgraceful performance?” Readers anticipate an explanation, but it is not provided immediately. Television audiences, accustomed to weekly episodic installments, will recognize this narrative strategy.

Critics have also argued that this book mirrors the structure of a Shakespearean play. Shakespeare’s works were typically divided into five acts, culminating in a dramatic finale. Although The Return of the Native is presented in six books, most critics believe its artistic structure only necessitates five—the sixth was added to satisfy audiences who desired a happy ending. A hint at the book’s connection to Shakespeare is the reference to King Lear, one of Shakespeare’s most notable tragedies, in the introduction.

Symbolism

The names of Thomas Hardy’s characters often symbolize their roles within his novels, and The Return of the Native is no exception. “Wildeve” suggests someone on the brink, or eve, of wildness, while his first name, Damon, is ordinary enough to imply he will never truly escape societal norms.

Eustacia’s name is derived from “eustacy,” meaning a global change in sea level, hinting at the significant changes she brings to the lives of those on the heath and beyond. It also echoes the prefix “eu-,” which means “good” in Latin and “to want” in Old Norse, and relates to “ecstasy.” Her surname, “Vye,” reflects her combative nature towards the world.

Clym’s surname, “Yeobright,” combines “yeoman,” indicating a servant or commoner, with “brightness,” suggesting his natural intelligence. Minor characters also have names that are common words found in dictionaries, such as “Nunsuch” (typically spelled “nonesuch”), “Christian,” and “Fairway.”

Setting

The extensive topographical and historical description of Egdon Heath at the beginning of the book is considered one of the finest in English literature. The setting’s significance to the novel’s events cannot be overstated. The land’s flatness and barrenness have rendered it unsuitable for development, causing the modern world to overlook it. The heath’s inhabitants are isolated, fostering a unique culture distinct from the rest of the world.

Eustacia is both feared by the locals and alluring to Wildeve and Clym because she remains apart from the ordinary people; she is perceived as having supernatural abilities, as if she can transcend the land’s harsh demands. Clym is seen as almost mystical because he has been to Paris, despite there being no indication that he was more than a jeweler’s clerk there. The only way for the heath’s residents to acquire wealth is through inheritance from distant places, as Wildeve does, or by earning it elsewhere, as Diggory Venn does.

The marriage between Venn and Thomasin resolves the love plot, allowing Hardy to advance Clym's career as an open-air preacher focusing on progressive social and religious topics. However, in his 1912 definitive edition of the novel, Hardy added a somewhat irritable postscript to the third chapter of "Aftercourses": "the writer may state here that the original conception of the story did not design a marriage between Thomasin and Venn. He was to have retained his isolated and weird character to the last, and to have disappeared mysteriously from the heath, nobody knowing whither—Thomasin remaining a widow."

Hardy explains that the circumstances of serial publication led to the effort at a happy ending, but he clearly expresses his own artistic preference. He warns that readers with an "austere artistic code can assume the more consistent conclusion to be the true one." Carl Weber further elaborates on this issue by reminding us that Hardy initially offered the novel to two prestigious British journals, both of which rejected it. Eventually, he found a publisher in Belgravia, a publication with somewhat less prestige. The editorial staff at Belgravia felt the original ending was too sad, while the editor of Cornhill magazine found the relationships among Eustacia, Clym, Wildeve, and Thomasin too risqué for a family audience.

Rather than insist on his original gloomy ending, Hardy wrote four chapters to provide a happy conclusion, a compromise he deeply regretted over two decades later. As Weber points out, these were significant, not minor, artistic compromises. Hardy intended to emulate the five-act structure of Renaissance tragedy by organizing his narrative into five books. Additionally, he deliberately limited the action to one year and one day, adapting the unity of time observed in classical Greek tragedy by Aristotle.

Ultimately, many readers find Clym's vocation as an open-air preacher anticlimactic and the marriage of Venn and Thomasin contrary to the overall tragic and solemn nature of the story. It feels tacked on because it is.

The concession, which bothered Hardy enough to mention in the Wessex edition yet not enough to make him withdraw the happy ending chapters, highlights the fundamental tension between the public's craving for comforting narratives and the artist's duty to pursue their own vision, wherever it may lead. Hardy lamented the compromises his audience imposed on him. Although he never again yielded in this manner, he remained sensitive to critics who condemned the somber nature of his underlying vision. Within two decades, this tension would manifest more definitively. Hardy would no longer bow to the demands of editors or critics; at the peak of his artistic prowess, he concluded his career as a novelist with his magnum opus, Jude the Obscure, and devoted the remaining thirty years of his life to his first literary love, poetry. While this decision gifted posterity with a poet of remarkable power and genius, it also deprived us of further works from a novelist of the highest caliber.

Hardy's experimental technique, aside from issues of endings and tragic structure, is not his strongest suit. He skillfully maneuvers the standard Victorian omniscient narrative with confident control, occasionally weaving in a judgmental lyrical voice. His descriptions are often splendid, capturing the ancient essence and power of the Wessex landscape through the very language he uses. Frequently, readers and critics perceive the heath itself as a character, sometimes benign and often malevolent, in The Return of the Native.

The most striking technical aspect of the novel is undoubtedly the handling of the catastrophe scene. To convey suspense and build an atmosphere of impending doom, Hardy temporarily abandons the omniscient narrative that has primarily driven the novel, opting instead for a series of contemporaneous vignettes that follow several characters up to the moment of crisis. This allows Hardy to provide an empathetic perspective on each character, restoring sympathy for Eustacia as she faces her fate, evoking fear for Thomasin and her daughter as they traverse the heath, sharing in Venn's frustration as saving Eustacia becomes increasingly unlikely, and understanding Clym's anguish as the inevitable unfolds. This technique skillfully avoids the melodrama that the situation could easily fall into. Moreover, it enhances our comprehension of each character, heightens the suspense, and maintains a sense of realism.

In Thomas Hardy's novels, the setting of Wessex, an imaginary region, is as much a character as the people inhabiting it. This fictional landscape draws heavily from Hardy's native Dorsetshire, a place rooted in rural traditions. Throughout his narrative, the landscape plays a crucial role, intertwining with the fates of its characters, reflecting their internal struggles, and serving as a backdrop to their unfolding dramas.

Wessex: A Fictional Legacy

The concept of Wessex, inspired by Hardy’s childhood surroundings in Dorsetshire, serves as the backdrop for many of his major works. This fictional realm, constructed from the counties of southern England, is a representation of an unsophisticated rural life, a place where nature dominates over human endeavor. Hardy's dedication to this region is evident not only through his literary creations but also in his personal life, as he returned to Dorset later, settling there permanently with his wife.

The Unyielding Egdon Heath

At the heart of Wessex lies Egdon Heath, a vast, brooding wilderness that exerts a profound influence on the narrative of "The Return of the Native." This desolate landscape, a composite of the region’s various heaths, symbolizes primitive, timeless nature, indifferent to human woes. Consisting of hills, valleys, rivers, and wastelands, the heath is a realm where the natural elements—earth, air, fire, and water—prevail over human efforts and emotions.

The heath’s daunting presence is captured in its oppressive winds and eerie silences, while its earthen paths guide the characters in circular, often pointless journeys. It is a land where humans and nature are indistinguishable at times, with the people being as much a part of the heath as its wildlife. Hardy paints Egdon Heath as a setting where life and death coexist, with the ancient burial mounds serving as a constant reminder of the cyclical nature of existence.

Rainbarrow: Symbolic Heights

Rainbarrow, perched at the center of Egdon Heath, serves as a symbolic pillar throughout the novel. Its name foreshadows the tragic water deaths that occur, serving as a constant reminder of the impending doom. Early in the narrative, a defiant figure stands atop the mound, merging with the ancient landscape, while in the end, the native, shaped by tragedy, returns to stand atop Rainbarrow, becoming one with its unyielding presence, much like the furze bushes that thrive there.

The Quiet Woman Inn

Located on the heath, the Quiet Woman Inn serves as a social hub and home to characters like Damon Wildeve and his new wife, Thomasin. Hardy borrowed the name and its eerie sign from a real establishment, infusing the novel with an air of authenticity. The inn, with its legend of a headless woman, juxtaposes the contrasting values of the story's young women—traditional provincial norms against the lure of city liberties. This setting becomes a focal point when the victims of Shadwater Weir are brought there, intertwining the inn with the broader themes of conflict and tragedy.

Blooms-End: A Changing Legacy

The Yeobright family home, Blooms-End, is another key location, embodying the cultural heritage and the changing values within Wessex. Filled with treasured objects, the house signifies the end of traditional values as new ideas take root. Its name suggests an inevitable transformation, where the blooms of the past give way to an uncertain future.

Alderworth and East Egdon: Pivotal Places

Alderworth, the temporary abode of Clym and his wife, is the setting for pivotal moments that catalyze the novel’s tragic events. Nearby, East Egdon hosts a local festival where Eustacia watches a dance that mirrors her ominous dreams. The circular, whirling dance prefigures the disastrous whirlpool at Shadwater Weir, reflecting the interconnectedness of personal and natural cycles.

Shadwater Weir: The Culmination of Conflict

Shadwater Weir, with its swirling waters, becomes the stage for the novel’s final, fateful struggle. On a stormy night, the weir’s whirlpool echoes the movements seen at the festival and the relentless winds of Egdon Heath, amplifying the novel’s theme of inevitable fate. It is here that the conflicting values of the characters are resolved, albeit tragically.

Mistover Knap: A Unique Perspective

Lastly, Mistover Knap, the home of Captain Vye, stands distinct from the other settings, resembling a ship at anchor. This difference underscores the tension between the region’s traditional values and the external influences encroaching upon Egdon Heath. The house’s maritime resemblance highlights the clash between the steadfastness of the local culture and the shifting tides of change brought by outside forces.

The rich tapestry of settings in "The Return of the Native" contributes profoundly to its thematic depth and emotional impact. Each location, from the desolate Egdon Heath to the bustling Quiet Woman Inn, adds layers of meaning, reflecting the characters' struggles and the inexorable force of nature intertwined with human fate.

In The Return of the Native, Hardy explores England's transition from an agricultural society to an urban one, and from a faith-based community to a mix of rural superstition and widespread doubt.

1. Discussions about The Return of the Native often center on Eustacia Vye's character and influence. This analysis has concentrated on her transformation from a witch/temptress archetype to the multifaceted woman Hardy envisioned. Readers might reflect on their own reactions to her character. Is her desire for a more glamorous life unreasonable? Is her willfulness excessive? Does her restlessness justify her pursuit of Clym as an escape from Egdon? Could she be convincing herself that she loves Clym out of a desperate need to leave Egdon Heath? How much, if any, of Vye's character is lost in the film adaptation? Are these potential losses due to the medium's limitations or to choices in screenwriting and casting?

2. To what extent is pride a pivotal element in this story of thwarted ambitions and dreams?

3. Is Diggory Venn a believable character, or does Hardy overly manipulate him? Are you satisfied with his transformation in the "Aftercourses" section?

4. What are your thoughts on Hardy's decision to add the "Aftercourses" section, then later disavow but not remove it?

5. Can you explain what draws Thomasin or Eustacia to Damon Wildeve? Hardy describes him as a man in whom "no man would have seen anything to admire," but "no woman would have seen anything to dislike." Is this merely a sexist remark, or do aspects of Wildeve's character implied here or elsewhere in the book contribute to the narrative's believability?

6. Is Clym at fault for assuming that the spirited Eustacia would find happiness in following his dream, becoming a schoolmistress, and supporting his grand endeavor? Is concern for her feelings a modern sensibility applied to Hardy from a twenty-first-century perspective, or is it embedded in the text? In other words, if we criticize Clym's actions, are we within the bounds of Hardy's text, or are we imposing a contemporary view of women's rights on a Victorian novel where they might not fit?

7. Many readers find the scene where Venn wins Thomasin's and Clym's inheritance from Wildeve somewhat absurd. Do you? If so, does this scene diminish the novel's overall impact?

8. Can you empathize with Eustacia's situation in the compelling chapter, "The Closed Door," where she refuses to answer Mrs. Yeobright's knock? Clym and Mrs. Yeobright clearly believe she has committed a terrible act. What are your thoughts on this?

9. Do you believe Clym ever achieves personal awareness of his role in his and his mother's suffering? In other words, does he learn from his sorrow, as the heroes in Shakespeare's tragedies, which the novel was modeled after, generally do? What does he learn?

10. How do you perceive Hardy's decision to turn Clym into an open-air preacher in the "Aftercourses" section? Readers acquainted with Hardy's other notable works might remember ministerial roles or aspirations among various characters such as Jude Fawley (Jude the Obscure) and both Alex d'Urberville and Angel Clare (Tess of the d'Urbervilles). Does this role sufficiently address Clym's suffering and his reformist ambitions, or, considering Hardy's well-known conflict with organized religion, is there a touch of irony in Clym's ultimate choice?

With the release of his sixth novel, Thomas Hardy evolved from a promising apprentice to a writer whose unique genius and thematic and social concerns were firmly established. Earlier works such as Far from the Madding Crowd (1874) hinted at Hardy's emerging perspective on the waning years of Victorian England and the rise of modernist sensibilities in art, society, and philosophical thought. However, with The Return of the Native, Hardy solidified his voice as a critic of England's inevitable transition from an agrarian society to an urban one, and from a community rooted in faith to a paradoxical mix of rural superstition and widespread skepticism. Although Hardy grew up in a very religious household and biographers note that he once seriously considered becoming a pastor, his novels from The Return of the Native onward depict doubt or religious indifference as the dominant social attitude. Thus, a central theme in The Return of the Native and later novels up to Jude the Obscure (1895, see separate entry) is the replacement of universal faith with doubt, cynicism, and superstition. A key element in his critique of the decline of faith and the rise of modern pessimism and deterministic theory is the introduction of continental and urban ideas into rural civilizations.

Beyond its role as social criticism, The Return of the Native is one of Hardy's semi-autobiographical novels, perhaps the most distinct before Jude the Obscure. Like the protagonist Clym Yeobright, Hardy returned to his childhood home in Wessex after a brief stint in a major European cultural hub. He worked as an apprentice architect in Dorchester for six years before moving to London to assist an ecclesiastical architect. While in London, Hardy became acquainted with many radical thinkers, including advocates of "Higher Criticism," a theory that viewed sacred texts like the Bible as literary or cultural documents rather than divinely inspired works. In the 1860s, this was considered radical thinking. Hardy also began his career as a poet and essayist during his time in London. His early poems often contrast rural and urban life with a touch of bitter irony. One such poem, "The Ruined Maid" (1866), tells of two sisters who meet by chance in a city, likely London. One sister is astonished at the other's newfound sophistication in dress, manners, and speech. Amelia, who has moved to the city, sarcastically credits her refinement to being "ruined." In the final stanza, the unnamed country sister envies the fine things and manners her sister has acquired, but Hardy suggests that achieving this new, better life requires moral compromise. If the country sister desires what Amelia has, she will have to earn it through the world's oldest profession.

In the late 1860s, Hardy returned to his native Dorsetshire and began a serious career as a novelist, eventually settling into an unfortunate marriage. As biographer Michael Millgate notes, the Hardys chose to live near but not directly within the area of Hardy's childhood. Thus, the various residences, especially Max Gate where Hardy decided to reside, were adjacent to, but not part of, his youthful homeland.

Similar to his creator, Clym undertakes a symbolic return to his origins. However, unlike Hardy, Clym attempts to settle in the house and landscape of his youth. Like the protagonist in Thomas Wolfe's famous novel written fifty years later, he discovers that You Can't Go Home Again. Clym has lived in both Paris and London, and for many residents of Hardy's fictional Egdon Heath, these cities represent the pinnacle of culture and civilization. The woman Clym intends to marry, Eustacia Vye, fantasizes about Paris as the perfect escape from the dullness she perceives in her Egdon prison. Her pursuit of marriage to Clym starts with the rumor of him rather than the man himself. She envisions him as a "man returning from Heaven." Before she ever sees him, she identifies with his worldly sophistication; much of her initial interest in Clym is based on the belief that he intends to go back to Paris. She refers to the heath as her "Hades" and dramatically describes living there with her grandfather as: "my cross, shame, death." The other significant man in Eustacia's life, Damon Wildeve, also dreams of a more refined urban existence. Although he operates an inn on the heath, he sees himself as an engineer who has experienced a taste of the good life. When he inherits a large sum from an American uncle, he quickly plans to relocate himself and his family to the city.

Hardy's portrayal of a transforming society can be simplified to a basic idea: the restless, ambitious characters associate the "good life" with cosmopolitan and modern environments, while the more stable characters, whom Hardy encourages the reader to empathize with, favor the traditional, rural culture of the heath. Clym tells the peasant crowd that he no longer holds his former disdain for rural life and that Paris no longer appeals to him. The peasants enthusiastically agree with this sentiment. However, Hardy has woven his personal history into the contrast between Clym's Parisian career and his future plans on the heath. While Hardy was an architect in London, involved in church restoration similar to his character Jude Fawley in Jude the Obscure, Clym managed a diamond merchant's shop in France. Clym's rejection of that trade is logical because selling diamonds is often linked with vanity, elitism, and rampant capitalism, all negative aspects of late Victorian society. Although Eustacia and the peasants view this business as glamorous, Clym sees it as serving an elite, exploitative class whose interest in diamonds was purely vain. He (and Hardy) dramatically describe it: "My business was the idlest, vainest, most effeminate business that ever a man could be put to."

Upon returning, Clym decides to pursue something that embodies a service ideal central to the best aspects of late Victorian culture. He plans to open a school to train the youth of the heath in the sciences and skills needed to thrive and contribute to society in a changing world. His secondary goal is to introduce innovative, experimental teaching methods, informed by his exposure to progressive metropolitan centers and his latent superior intelligence. Hardy implicitly supports Clym's plan to replace an outdated system that primarily upholds the status quo. Thus, Clym would practice a form of elitism, but not the economic elitism he despised in the diamond trade. This is an intellectual elitism. He aims to educate the heath's brightest children. Although his goal has an elitist aspect, it also reflects a public service ideal that is one of the nobler features of Victorian highbrow culture, evident in scientists, explorers, and similar figures. On a somewhat smaller scale, his cousin Thomasin shares similar feelings about Egdon, but hers are based on loyalty rather than principle. She worries about her husband's plan to move to the port city of Budmouth when he becomes wealthy. As a wealthy widow after Wildeve's death, she dismisses the idea of moving to the city, declaring that the heath, although "ridiculous," is a nurturing place.

Reflecting on his own decision to return to Dorset, Hardy omnisciently judges the conservative stance, which favors traditional rural culture over modern cosmopolitan culture, as correct. However, this judgment appears somewhat arbitrary, as if the author is imposing his preferences rather than illustrating them. Critics frequently note the brooding, ominous presence of the heath in Hardy's fiction, especially in The Return of the Native, treating it almost as a character or a manifestation of some sinister force. Indeed, little about Hardy's depiction of the heath, whether as a physical or cultural environment, is appealing in this narrative. He generally portrays it as harsh, difficult, and barren: the "storm was its lover, and the wind was its friend." The heath's most contented inhabitants are "heath-croppers," or wild ponies that graze on its furze, and peasants, whose cognitive lives are depicted as barely more advanced than the ponies' on a basic evolutionary scale. The primary occupation is agriculture, which is much less significant as an evolving technology in this novel than in Far from the Madding Crowd (1874) or The Mayor of Casterbridge (1886; see separate entry). One of the two principal businesses in the novel is turf-cutting, or harvesting peat for fuel; the other is the enigmatic Diggory Venn's trade as a "reddleman," extracting ochre for agricultural use. Additionally, Egdon's extreme temperatures are inhospitable. Mrs. Yeobright dies of heatstroke, exacerbated by an adder's bite, after a relatively short but extremely distressing journey to and from her son's home. Wildeve and Eustacia drown after becoming lost in a sudden storm, and Thomasin and her infant daughter are only saved from a similar fate by their good fortune in stumbling upon Venn's wagon when Thomasin loses the path in the same storm. Hardy seems to favor those who prefer the heath over the city, yet the objective depiction of Egdon offers little support for the notion that this is a better life.

A more compelling argument for the sense of "root" that Hardy attributes to Egdon lies in its ancient origins. As seen in his later novels, particularly Tess of the d'Urbervilles (1891; see separate entry), Hardy frequently reminds readers that the heath evokes a pre-Roman past. He added a note to the 1895 edition of The Return of the Native linking his imaginative Egdon Heath with the "traditionary King of Wessex," Leir (whom Shakespeare transformed into Lear), the most tragic character in English literature. In a detailed sketch-map Hardy created for the 1878 edition, a Roman road, symbolizing antiquity, neatly cuts through the heath. Even with minor elements, such as the primitive arrowheads brought by the love-struck Charley to distract Eustacia from her sorrow or the "druid stone" that captivates Clym when he witnesses the opening of a barrow on the heath, Hardy underscores the fleeting nature of individual suffering and cultural shifts.

At one point, he explicitly states that the ancient heath "reduces to insignificance" Clym's anguish over how his actions and negligence affected his mother. Near the book's conclusion, Hardy's narrator evokes this same sense of antiquity, referencing the suffering of "forgotten Celtic tribes" who lived and died in the same place to provide a cosmic context for Clym's own pain.

A significant part of the heath's ominous allure stems from its ancient history, creating a tone of foreboding for the novel's events. It serves to remind readers of the greater tragedies of past cultures while offering a historical perspective on England's transition to an industrial nation and a global empire. Hardy also places the suffering of his "modern" tragic figures in context by reminding readers of the heath's sheer antiquity and the nobility that classical British and Attic cultures associated with suffering when the gods turn cruel or indifferent. This theme is central to many of Hardy's finest lyric poems, such as "Hap" (1866), "The Subalterns" (1898), and "Channel Firing" (1914).

While Hardy imbues the heath with a sense of noble antiquity, he portrays the peasantry as a decline from the traditional British peasant class. Similar to their counterparts in British literature, the peasants in The Return of the Native lead essentially parasitic lives, deriving meaning from the actions of their "betters." They diligently rehearse to entertain the Yeobrights during their annual Christmas open house, a mummers' tradition rooted in British, if not Celtic, antiquity. Additionally, they eagerly await Clym's return to Egdon as a significant event in their lives and express surprise and satisfaction at rumors of his decision not to return to Paris. While their deference is endearing, it also carries undertones of servility, a condition eloquently described by socialists Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels during Hardy's youth.

The novel's class assumptions seem governed by nineteenth-century orthodoxies: class is hierarchical, and there is no contradiction in the peasants living vicariously while figures like Mrs. Yeobright exhibit indifference or commodification towards them, and characters like Eustacia and Wildeve openly display contempt. Some of their customs, such as waxing and feathering the bedclothes for a bride and groom—Venn and Thomasin in this case—foreshadow the cruel "Skimmity-Ride" that expresses peasant resentment of class structure in The Mayor of Casterbridge. However, like the mummers' convention at Christmas or the Guy Fawkes Day celebrations that bookend The Return of the Native, these rituals originate from folk customs.

Furthermore, in his attempt to render the peasant class charming, Hardy often depicts individuals as talkative, foolish, occasionally dull, and sometimes cruel. Grandfer Cantle constantly boasts about his past as a military man. Despite the novel's omniscient point of view, Hardy provides no confirmation that he was indeed a soldier in 1804, and even if he was, his stories likely exaggerate his past exploits. He also monotonously reminisces about his reputation as a singer. His grandson, Christian, is portrayed as a cowardly, foolish man. Introduced humorously as a man no woman would marry, Christian quickly becomes a symbol of a declining sturdy peasantry, replaced by weak and simpleminded individuals. He trembles in fear of everything on the heath and often admits his cowardice openly in public gatherings, seemingly unashamed of his character's pusillanimity. When entrusted with an errand involving one hundred guineas by Mrs. Yeobright, Christian is easily duped into risking and then losing both Clym's and Thomasin's money after winning the first few throws of the dice and being persuaded by Wildeve that he is "lucky."

Other members of the peasant class are depicted in equally unfavorable ways. The walls of the Quiet Woman Inn are etched with the initials of "illustrious drunkards of past days," implying, as Hardy makes clear in The Mayor of Casterbridge, that much of their time, when not working or living vicariously through their social superiors, is spent in drunkenness. Christian Cantle wonders if the raffle at the Quiet Woman will resemble "cudgel-playing or other forms of sportful bloodshed," hinting at a brutal and voyeuristic side to their pastimes. This savage attitude is subtly emphasized by Hardy placing it in the mouth of the book's most cowardly character. Other peasants are depicted as docile and dependent, with none more so than Charley. Charley bargains with Eustacia for a quarter of an hour holding her hand and later tends to her after her marriage to Clym falls apart. His sorrow at Eustacia's death reflects the grief of a young man who has accepted his subordinate status and the unattainability of his beloved due to class constraints.

By far, the most deceitful portrayal of the peasant class is Susan Nunsuch, a bitter and superstitious self-appointed guardian of Egdon against the alien Eustacia Vye. Susan's son Johnny occasionally runs errands for Vye, and Susan uses these interactions to blame her son's illness on Vye. Christian Cantle reports that during church—where the novel frequently reminds us that organized religion no longer centralizes community life among the peasants—Susan Nunsuch jabbed a needle into Eustacia's arm to prove she is a witch. Just before the catastrophic events of Eustacia and Wildeve's attempted escape, Nunsuch meticulously creates a wax effigy of Vye, pierces it with several pins, and melts it in a fireplace. Hardy leaves it to the reader to determine if this act of witchcraft and superstition played a role in Eustacia's death. However, the malice and wickedness of her actions are indisputable, as is the hypocrisy of accusing Eustacia of being a witch while practicing black magic against her, regardless of its effectiveness.

Despite the peasants' seemingly trivial nature, Hardy expresses a warm amusement for certain peasant traditions. A detailed effort is made to catch, kill, and fry adders as a remedy for Mrs. Yeobright's snakebite, and when the physician arrives, he notes that the treatment did no harm. The reader likely believes it is better for Clym and the others present at Mrs. Yeobright's death to engage in an ineffective but harmless act rather than doing nothing and watching her die helplessly. Similarly, the "hartshorn" folk remedy helps revive Clym after the drownings. Through his omniscient voice, Hardy praises the temporary "paganism ... revived in their hearts" when youth from two villages gather for an annual August dance called a "gipsying." Finally, Hardy's narrator openly celebrates the maypole customs as a thriving peasant tradition where "the instincts of merry old England lingered on ... with exceptional vitality."

Hardy portrays the peasantry as a link between the heath's past and its transition to the future. While the peasants of Egdon collectively possess a certain rustic charm, individually, they appear influenced by the deceit and cowardice of modern culture. Additionally, the caste systems that classify individuals as peasants or aristocrats persist even among the most intellectually liberated characters in The Return of the Native. After the tragic events, Clym considers doing the "honorable" thing by marrying his cousin Thomasin, not out of romantic love, but from a sense of duty to her and her child, as well as honoring his mother's wish that Clym and Thomasin eventually wed. Now that they are both widowed, Clym contemplates fulfilling his mother's desire. This reflects a very Victorian sense of duty, though his heart is not truly in it. He is driven by a sense of obligation to his cousin and her child and his own guilt over his mother's suffering and death. When he learns that Thomasin is considering a proposal from Diggory Venn, the enigmatic character who has been a "reddleman" throughout the novel but has recently become a dairy farmer, his reaction is less relieved and enthusiastic than expected. He does not genuinely wish to marry his cousin or anyone else; moreover, he acknowledges Venn as "clever," "honest," and "astute." Clym's objection, that Venn belongs to the yeoman class rather than the professional or wealthy class, underscores how entrenched caste and class attitudes remain in Hardy's Egdon as the Victorian era nears its end.

1840s: Milk production in dairy farming is entirely manual.

1878: The first commercial milking machines are manufactured in Auburn, New York.

Today: Dairy farming is fully automated. Cows are confined to small enclosures with limited movement and rarely interact with humans.

1840s: The typewriter is a recent invention. Patented in 1843, it employs a moving carriage to ensure even letter strikes.

1878: The typewriter sees significant enhancement when the Remington Arms Company introduces a shift key, allowing documents to include both lower and upper case characters.

Today: Typewriters are nearly extinct. Word processing software enables any desktop system to produce professional-quality graphics.

1840s: The first rail lines are beginning to connect major cities, with passenger train travel starting in the 1830s. Inhabitants of Egdon Heath rely on primitive transportation like horse-drawn carriages.

1878: Railways are widespread across the English countryside, linking cities and making travel to remote areas possible.

Today: Automobiles offer convenient personal transportation, making travel to any location in England quick and easy.

1840s: Human behavior is a topic for speculation by philosophers and writers.

1878: Wilhelm Max Wundt establishes the first laboratory for experimental psychology, transforming the study of the mind into a science.

Today: Recent advancements in psychology focus on treating depression and violent behavior with mood-altering medications.

Despite its potential for cinematic adaptation, particularly the early scenes set on Guy Fawkes Day, there have been relatively few attempts to bring The Return of the Native to the screen. The novel was first adapted for the stage in 1920 by the Dorchester Players, an amateur theater group. According to biographer Michael Millgate, Thomas Hardy was delighted with the adaptation, even though he had minimal involvement in the scriptwriting. In 1998, Hallmark Hall of Fame produced a film version, possibly inspired by the moderate success of feature films like Tess of the d'Urbervilles and Jude the Obscure. This adaptation boasted a strong cast and provided a generally faithful rendition of Hardy's work. The cinematography was particularly striking, with much of the filming done on location in southwest England. The visual portrayal of the heath was compelling, effectively capturing the contrasting emotions of Clym's love for the landscape and Eustacia Vye's passionate disdain for it.

However, as is often the case with adaptations of classic novels, the film fails to capture the complexity of Eustacia's character. Catherine Zeta-Jones embodies the physical allure that captivates three men in the story, but she falls short of conveying Eustacia's intense spirit. The screenplay, written by Robert W. Lenski, and the medium of film itself, limit the depth, passion, and self-awareness inherent in Hardy's Eustacia. For example, the film cannot fully express the internal struggle Eustacia faces when deciding whether to escape with Wildeve. In the novel, she grapples with the choice of committing to a man she knows is unworthy versus staying on the loathed heath with a disappointing husband. Additionally, the screenplay suggests that Eustacia's death is a suicide, a topic of much debate among scholars of Hardy's work. A particularly effective scene shows Captain Vye removing loaded pistols from the wall as Eustacia gazes at them, making suicide appear certain. In contrast, Hardy left Eustacia's death ambiguous, allowing for speculation. Zeta-Jones's portrayal lacks the brooding passion and self-awareness that define Hardy's heroine. Whether this was due to Zeta-Jones's interpretation or director Jack Gold's vision, this version of Eustacia comes across as a flirt rather than the subtle manipulator Hardy created. In a key scene adapted from the novel, she attempts to influence Venn, played by Steven Mackintosh, but fails and appears unsure of how to handle a man she cannot seduce.

Although Hallmark Hall of Fame productions are among the most distinguished in American television history, they are still part of the popular culture industry. Unsurprisingly, the film emphasizes the one aspect of the narrative that Hardy himself regretted: the "happy ending" with the marriage between Venn and Thomasin. In the film, this event occurs soon after the deaths of Eustacia and Wildeve, portrayed with a silliness that only Hollywood could endorse, serving as a deus ex machina.

While the novel clearly indicates that Venn's complexion is deeply stained due to his work with "reddle," requiring an entire winter and spring to return to normal, the film shows the redness being literally washed from Venn's face during the storm. This happens after he rescues Eustacia's and Wildeve's bodies and saves Clym, as if the plunge into the rushing waters (not a deep pool as in the novel) were both baptismal and transformative. Additionally, Hardy's prim Victorian character, Thomasin, has a mourning period of eighteen months before she even considers a proposal from her dutiful lover and protector. The film, however, introduces an ectoplasmic vision of Zeta-Jones as Eustacia while Clym conducts one of his open-air classes (not, as in "Aftercourses," a sermon). This is a trite Hollywood attempt to represent Eustacia's lasting impact on Clym's memory, sadly reduced to her sexual allure rather than her strength of character.

Beyond capturing the physical setting of Hardy's novel magnificently, the Hall of Fame production also beautifully depicts the deceit and cruelty of the Egdon peasants. The standout element of the film, which will both educate newcomers to Hardy and delight experts, is Joan Plowright's brilliant performance as Mrs. Yeobright. Plowright expertly brings to life the pride, imperiousness, and ultimate vulnerability of this character, who significantly impacts the happiness of others both in her life and death. While the other actors' performances are not particularly memorable, Plowright adds a dimension to the screen that perfectly encapsulates Hardy's enigmatic creation.

Overall, the production generally adheres to Hardy's narrative, omitting some subplots, until the end when Hollywood clichés replace Hardy's pessimism. Plowright's performance, the depiction of the peasants, and the stunning portrayal of Egdon Heath as both beautiful and terrible visually enhance the power of Hardy's written text. However, even these elements cannot ultimately replace the original work.

Return of the Native was transformed into a television feature for the Hallmark Hall of Fame series in 1994. The adaptation starred Clive Owen, Catherine Zeta-Jones, and Joan Plowright. Directed by Jack Gold, the TV movie was later distributed as a video by Hallmark Home Entertainment in 1999.

Audio Partners Publishing Company released an unabridged, 12-tape version of the novel read by actor Alan Rickman. This edition was produced in 1999.

Sources

Adams, Francis, Review of Tess of the D’Urbervilles, in The Fortnightly Review, Vol. LII, No. CCVII, July 1891, pp. 19–22.

Carpenter, Richard, Thomas Hardy, Twayne Publishers, Boston, 1964.

Eliot, T. S., After Strange Gods: A Primer of Modern Heresy, Harcourt & Brace, 1934.

Hawkins, Desmond, “The Native Returns 1876–1878,” Barnes & Noble Books, 1976, p. 76.

Henley, W. E., Review, in The Academy, Vol. XIV, No. 343, November 30, 1878, p. 517.

Page, Norman O., “The Return of the Native,” in Reference Guide to English Literature, edited by D. L. Kirkpatrick, St. James Press, 1991.

Review, in The Athenaeum, November 23, 1878, p. 654.

Taylor, Richard, “Thomas Hardy: A Reader’s Guide,” in Thomas Hardy: The Writer and His Background, St. Martin’s Press, 1980, pp. 219–58.

For Further Study

Brooks, Jean R., “The Return of the Native: A Novel of Environment,” in Modern Critical Views: Thomas Hardy, edited by Harold Bloom, Chelsea House, 1987, pp. 55–72. Analyzes the novel’s most prominent literary theme.

Davidson, Donald, “The Traditional Basis of Thomas Hardy’s Fiction,” in Hardy: A Collection of Critical Essays, edited by Albert J. Guerard, Prentice-Hall, 1963, pp. 10–23. Identifies aspects of the oral tradition of rural England in The Return of the Native and other works.

Hands, Timothy, “’Yea, Great and Good, Thee, Thee we hail’: Hardy and the Ideas of his Time,” in Thomas Hardy, St. Martin’s Press, 1995. Traces philosophical movements of the late nineteenth century and examines their influences in Hardy’s works.

Hawkins, Desmond, Hardy the Novelist, David & Charles, 1965. This respected analysis provides a solid background for students new to Hardy’s fiction.

Hillis Miller, J., “The Dance of Desire,” in Thomas Hardy: Distance and Desire, The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1970, pp. 144–75. Examines the themes of desire and longing in Hardy’s novels.

Hornback, Bert G., The Metaphor of Chance: Vision and Technique in the Work of Thomas Hardy, Ohio University Press, 1971. Explores Hardy’s narrative technique.

Mickelson, Anne Z., “The Marriage Trap,” in Thomas Hardy’s Women and Men: The Defeat of Nature, The Scarecrow Press, Inc., 1976. A feminist analysis of Eustacia Vye.

Sumner, Rosemary, Thomas Hardy: Psychological Novelist, St. Martin’s Press, 1981. Discusses the treatment of psychological issues in Hardy’s works.