Furthermore, this novel also adapts to the tragedy convention of unity of place. Everything takes place inside Egdon Heath and we don’t follow the characters when they go somewhere else. We know Thomasin and Eustacia went to some parish church to get married, but the name of the place is not known, while Venn disappears and no one knows of his whereabouts.
Regarding the characters themselves, we don’t know exactly who the tragic hero is. We know for certain that Clym is the ‘native’ who has returned to his homeland and he does suffer the outcome of the tragic adversities within the novel. But, what about Eustacia? She could easily be the tragic heroine as she is punished even harder with death, meeting a disastrous end. Eustacia also seems fit for the role of heroine since a whole chapter in the book is solely devoted to the introduction and description of her character, something that Hardy doesn’t do with any of the other characters.
Conventionally, in Greek and Shakespearian tragedy the protagonist was someone of importance, usually a king or a member of the royal family. Contradictorily, neither Eustacia nor Clym were important persons. However, in terms of society, within Egdon Heath, they were respectable and important people. The locals looked up to them. Clym was a successful, literate man who had just come from France and his mother seemed to have some level of prestige within the community. As for Eustacia, she was even closer the Greek perception of majesty as she is described as a ‘goddess’ and a ‘divinity’, and also has the typical flaws that, although not appropriate for a proper woman of her time, on Olympus were common amongst the deities; ‘She had the passions and instincts which make a model goddess, that is, those which make not quite a model woman’.
In Greek tragedies, the protagonists tried to challenge the gods or tried to change their destiny. Likewise, Clym tried to change things from the way they previously were. He is, at the beginning of the novel described as ‘metaphorically blind’ as he pursues a cause no one is in favour of, he is unable to see that the ideals he adheres to and aspires to accomplish are of no interest to everyone else. The locals didn’t want to be educated as they were content and happy with the way they lived; “…I think he had better mind his business”. They didn’t feel they needed the education Clym wanted to provide them with and preferred him not to interfere. Ironically, instead of Clym changing them, it is him who changes into becoming one of them, as towards the end of the novel he becomes a furze-cutter.
The ‘fault’ or ‘flaw’ within Clym’s character, apart from upholding an over-romantic dream of nurturing the rustics with education, seems to be his marriage to Eustacia. They are completely different. Eustacia hopes Clym abandons his plans of educating and decides to take her to Paris instead (the only reason why she married him, holding the prospect of fleeing abroad). On the contrary, Clym never had any intention of doing this; he was more attached to the heath than ever and was determined not to go back to France. He had plans for becoming a teacher and ironically thought Eustacia to be her perfect partner in his education projects “She is excellently educated, and would make a good matron in a boarding school.” He loves his birthplace and is in absolute harmony with the heath, whereas she loathes the place and desperately yearns to escape it. “Take all the varying hates felt by Eustacia Vye towards the heath, and translate them into loves, and you have the heart of Clym.” Surely, nothing good could possible come out of the union of such opposed individuals, who had false expectations from each other. This matrimony was, from the beginning, condemned to doom.
Moreover, they decided to marry during the eclipse of the moon, adding to the sense of darkness and magical forces acting as a premonition for catastrophe.
Eustacia, like Clym, also tries to change her destiny and struggles to challenge her fate. Her dislikes of the heath are no secret to anyone and she constantly expresses her wish of escaping it; “I cannot endure the heath”, “The heath is a cruel taskmaster to me”. She tries to fight against her destiny, but to no avail “…how destiny has been against me! (…) I have been injured and blighted and crushed by things beyond my control!”
In the end, those who like or accept the heath are the ones who meet happy endings. Thomasin, for example, was comfortable with the heath, she didn’t see it as harmful or as a threat; ‘To her there were not, as to Eustacia, demons in the air, and malice in every bough’, the dangers of the heath to her were merely rational. Consequently, Thomasin encounters a happy ending, whereas Eustacia ends trapped in the claws of death, a death the heath itself seems to execute, as a punishment for her defiance of its forces.
Clym, on the other hand, is punished by blindness, very much like Oedipus and Prometheus, who, according to the Greek tragedies ended losing the power of sight. This is brought about almost as a consequence of his own self-deception and his inability to see, even when he physically could, the result of his unlikely union to Eustacia. But this was not Clym’s only punishment; even worse was the remorse and the burden in his conscience, as he felt guilty and responsible for the death of his mother and wife. This was an even heavier weight to carry for which he felt there was not enough penalty; ‘…and my great regret is that for what I have done no man can punish me!’
Another typical element of Shakespearian tragedy is comic interludes. Hardy also included this component in his novel, mostly to relieve tensions when some tragic event had take place. He uses the locals to create this comical atmosphere as Shakespeare used servants and lower order characters. The rustics also take on the role of the traditional Greek ‘chorus’, by commenting and passing moral judgements on the events. When Mrs Yeobright lays unconscious, having been stung by an adder, the aura of sadness surrounding the scene is lightened by the comments of the locals; “Neighbours, if Mrs Yeobright were to die, d’ye think we should be took up and tried for the manslaughter of a woman?” There is bitter humour in these words and a clear misunderstanding of the situation, which added to the superstitious fears of the unfortunate Christian, altogether creating a ridiculous atmosphere and relieving the mournfulness and seriousness of the moment, as we laugh at their simplicity.
We can come to the conclusion that this is a very tragic novel indeed. Some critics would argue that it does not entirely succeed as tragedy, mainly because of the lack of a clear distinction for a character that entirely fulfils the role of a tragic hero. I would argue this is not so; it may be true that the title of heroine evolves around Clym and Eustacia, being very difficult to precise which of the two best fits the role, however in my opinion, I’d say this is up to readers to determine and does not take away the fact that this is, most certainly and without a doubt, a tragedy, as most other factors comply with the exigencies of the genre. Regardless of Hardy’s efforts to maintain unities of place, time and other tragedy conventions; the way the plot develops with a sense of foreboding in the novel’s consequences, convert this book into a classic of the genre. The relentless mood and development, the numerous lucky (or unlucky) coincidences that are later to determine the future of the characters and the way people continually strive to change the way things are, combine the prefect ingredients of a tragedy. As often in Greek tragedies, fate plays an essential role and the people in the novel can’t escape it because it would only keep coming back. Chance seems to dictate the destiny of the characters, playing around with their lives as if they were mere pieces on a chess board. The forces of the heath seem to inflict some sort of control on the characters, fulfilling the Greek tragedy convention of gods playing around with humans’ lives.
