J. pompously instructs the reader to get rid of things they don't need, but his opinions on owning things don’t seem very consistent. In chapter 3, the author employs metaphor, simile, and situational irony to convey J.'s hypocritical perspective on material possessions. As he is frantically packing for the Thames trip, J. laments:
oh, heaviest, maddest lumber of all! – the dread of what will my neighbour think, with luxuries that only cloy, with pleasures that bore, with empty show that, like the criminal’s iron crown of yore, makes to bleed and swoon the aching head that wears it!
Previously J. has referred to material things as "lumber,” useless weight that stops people from achieving their potential. The way he uses this metaphor suggests that material possessions are burdensome and cumbersome, hindering rather than enhancing one's life. The simile he uses here adds to this expression of discontent. He sanctimoniously criticizes the plentiful luxuries and pleasures of his, George’s, and Harris’s life, comparing their “luxury” to a criminal's iron crown. The iron crown is an archaic form of physical punishment which involved tightening a metal band around a wrongdoer's head. As J. says, it "makes to bleed and swoon the aching head that wears it." Having too many material things is a horrible, aching burden, J. implies, and to divest oneself of them all is the only way to be truly free.
Of course, this is full of situational irony, as J. is frantically packing lots of lovely things into bags, and the men consume an enormous amount of luxury goods on their trip. This disingenuous advice just highlights the difference between his words and actions. The irony is further enhanced by the notion that luxury items are “burdens.” J. and his friends are going on a long holiday and have never worried about access to money. Even as he decries it, J. is packing more and more “lumber." The oxymoronic phrases "luxuries that only cloy" and "pleasures that bore" also emphasize the paradoxical nature of having too much luxury. Here, J. is suggesting that what is typically considered desirable and enjoyable can, in fact, become tiresome and unfulfilling. This is another moment where Jerome lampoons middle-class privilege. J. is actually self-pityingly complaining that he can’t enjoy his nice things anymore because he’s too used to them.
In this passage from the beginning of Chapter 7, the author uses a metaphor and visual imagery to describe a chaotic scene at the Moulsey lock. From a safe distance, J. and Harris observe the tightly packed crowd of people gathered:
I have stood and watched it sometimes, when you could not see any water at all, but only a brilliant tangle of bright blazers, and gay caps, and saucy hats, and many-coloured parasols, and silken rugs, and cloaks, and streaming ribbons, and dainty whites; when looking down into the lock from the quay, you might fancy it was a huge box into which flowers of every hue and shade had been thrown pell-mell and lay piled up in a rainbow heap that covered every corner.
A lock is a type of engineered water management system that allows boaters to artificially change the height of canals; in a sense, it's like an elevator for boats and barges. They are necessary for when people traveling on rivers need to climb or descend hills. Here, Jerome is using a metaphor combined with sensory language to paint a clear picture of all the people crowded around the lock. He compares the colorful boating attire and accessories the crowd are wearing to a jumbled collection of flowers in a box. This comparison centers on the variety and brightness of the scene; it’s chaotic, but it’s pleasant chaos. The image of a "huge box" filled with flowers "thrown pell-mell" conveys the idea of a disorganized but striking assortment of hues and textures. It’s a “rainbow heap” of boldly-dressed people milling around in their finery.
J.’s exhaustive listing of clothing items and accessories also contributes to the sense the reader gets of the packed, cheerfully busy lock. There are so many people they can’t be distinguished, and so J. is just noticing types of clothing. They aren’t individual people, they’re a “brilliant tangle of bright blazers.”
J. is captivated by the blossoming trees around Cliveden in Chapter 12. To show the reader why, the author deploys visual imagery and metaphor to depict the serene surroundings as the boat passes by Cliveden Woods:
Cliveden Woods still wore their dainty dress of spring, and rose up, from the water’s edge, in one long harmony of blended shades of fairy green. In its unbroken loveliness this is, perhaps, the sweetest stretch of all the river, and lingeringly we slowly drew our little boat away from its deep peace.
The visual imagery in this passage brings to mind the many shades of spring color reflected in the water. The reader can almost see the pink and white of the petals and the green of the grass and leaves. It’s a delicate, serene sensory experience. The description of Cliveden as a "harmony" of "fairy green" suggests an almost supernatural level of beauty, with the various shades blending together smoothly. It seemingly has no flaws, and is all “unbroken loveliness.”
The metaphor of the woods wearing a "dress" of spring further emphasizes the delicacy and youthfulness of the landscape. Cliveden Woods isn’t just in flower, but has put on its best dress to greet J., Harris, and George as they “lingeringly” sail past.
In this somber passage from Three Men in a Boat, the author uses personification, metaphor, and simile to describe the effect of the absence of sunlight on the English landscape:
Sunlight is the life-blood of Nature. Mother Earth looks at us with such dull, soulless eyes, when the sunlight has died away from out of her. It makes us sad to be with her then; she does not seem to know us or to care for us. She is as a widow who has lost the husband she loved, and her children touch her hand, and look up into her eyes, but gain no smile from her.
J., in his melancholy musing, portrays Nature as a grieving mother. He personifies this "Mother" as having "dull, soulless eyes" in the absence of sunlight. Depicting the landscape around him as having human-like characteristics makes its "sadness" seem clearer to the reader. This human-like characterization of Nature is amplified by the simile Jerome uses. He has the reader picture her "as a widow who has lost the husband she loved." This appeals to readers' sense of empathy, especially when it's coupled with the other tragic language included here. Mother Nature isn't just grieving. She's in such deep mourning that even her "children" can't get her to "smile."
The metaphor of sunlight as the "life-blood of Nature" further emphasizes the vital role of sunlight in sustaining the natural world. The comparison of Nature without sunlight to a widow deep in grief also strengthens this idea. Without sunlight, all the living things on earth die and fade away. When the world is lightless, J. feels horribly sad, as if Mother Nature "no longer cares" for the humans who live in the world.
