Toward the end of the novel and the men’s journey, J. employs a paradox to describe the dual nature of the Thames. He presents two versions of it simultaneously to the reader, describing it as a golden paradise and a dark, haunted wasteland:
The river – [...] gleaming gay on many a far sail, making soft the air with glory – is a golden fairy stream. But the river – chill and weary, with the ceaseless raindrops falling [...] shrouded in their mists of vapour, stand like ghosts upon the margin; silent ghosts with eyes reproachful, like the ghosts of evil actions, like the ghosts of friends neglected – is a spirit-haunted water through the land of vain regrets.
The paradox in this comment lies in the juxtaposition of these two contrasting descriptions of the Thames. On one hand, the river can be enchanting, a “golden fairy stream." In moments like this it evokes a sense of wonder in J., as if the river itself were magical. On the other hand, it can also seem like "spirit-haunted water," no longer “golden” but filled with melancholy and regret. It’s not just a fairyland, but simultaneously a “chill and weary” place. The river is always changing, and it’s strongly affected by the weather around it and its physical location. This, in turn, affects J. He feels happy when the river seems happy, and vice versa. The contrasting imagery of the light on the water "gleaming gay on many a far sail," and the waters "shrouded in their mists of vapour" emphasizes the river's ability to contain and embody both of these states at once, "golden" and "haunted."
