In Part 1, the firefighter's handbook contains an ironically incorrect allusion to early American history.
Stoneman and Black drew forth their rule books, which also contained brief histories of the Firemen of America, and laid them out where Montag, though long familiar with them, might read: Established, 1790, to burn English-influenced books in the Colonies. First Fireman: Benjamin Franklin.
Readers likely know this is all false, especially American readers, who should be familiar with the unique free speech protections in the First Amendment that directly contradict the censorship in Fahrenheit 451. There is special irony in the reference to Benjamin Franklin, who was in fact a newspaper printer, a writer, a proponent of free speech, and someone who valued knowledge and debate. It is true, however, that Franklin founded Philadelphia's first fire department, along with a library and a college that is now known as the University of Pennsylvania. It's hard to think of a historical figure who would have been more opposed to the sort of censorship the firemen are undertaking!
The ironically false framing of these allusions also subtly indicates what happens in a censored society. When only certain viewpoints or claims can be circulated, discovering the truth, or even simply differing perspectives, can be difficult or impossible, and it will begin to seem as if the world has always been, and must always be, the way it is right now.
In Part 1, the oddly well-read Beatty explains a historical allusion to his baffled coworkers:
“Master Ridley,” said Montag at last. “What?” said Beatty. “She said, ‘Master Ridley.’ She said some crazy thing when we came in the door. ‘Play the man,’ she said, ‘Master Ridley.’ Something, something, something.” “‘We shall this day light such a candle, by God’s grace, in England, as I trust shall never be put out,’” said Beatty. Stoneman glanced over at the Captain, as did Montag, startled. Beatty rubbed his chin. “A man named Latimer said that to a man named Nicholas Ridley, as they were being burnt alive at Oxford, for heresy, on October 16, 1555.”
Latimer may or may not have made this remark (we have the quote from contemporaneous historian John Foxe), but these two men were in fact burned at the stake for heresy. Both Hugh Latimer and Nicholas Ridley were bishops (in the Church of England, as opposed to the Catholic Church) burned at the stake during England's troubled 16th century. Queen Mary, who took the throne, was Catholic, and Latimer and Ridley were Protestants who had advocated against Mary's ascension. Nowadays Ridley and Latimer, alongside Thomas Cranmer, burned at the stake a year later, are known as the Oxford Martyrs.
This historical allusion is remarkably fitting. These two men were burned at the stake, just as the woman burns alive, within a society that had strict censorship and harsh punishments for offenders, not unlike the society described in Fahrenheit 451. But there is also hope in the allusion that the woman makes, and that Beatty picks up on. Latimer and Ridley don't live to see it, but eventually England becomes and remains a Protestant nation. Although England as a Protestant state still had harsh censorship laws, those too eventually fell out of favor. Today, Latimer and Ridley would be able to preach their religious beliefs and even disagree with the government, and they wouldn't face so much as a misdemeanor!
Fahrenheit 451 is full of allusions to literature. Bradbury doesn't just want readers to imagine books being burned; he wants them to understand exactly which geniuses humanity is losing access to by giving in to censorship. In Part 1, as Guy worries about the nature of his job to Mildred, he alludes to several canonical authors.
“We burned copies of Dante and Swift and Marcus Aurelius.” “Wasn’t he a European?” “Something like that.” “Wasn’t he a radical?” “I never read him.” “He was a radical."
Allusions such as these re-emphasize for readers the important knowledge and art being destroyed. Dante Alighieri wrote The Divine Comedy, considered the most important work of literature in the Italian language. Jonathan Swift was a prolific satirist and essayist whom you might know from his satirical essay "A Modest Proposal." Marcus Aurelius wrote Stoic philosophy in addition to being a decorated emperor of the Roman Empire.
These allusions show that Guy is paying attention to the authors and titles he burns. On the other side of things, this scene also shows the lack of literary education the general public has in this dystopian society. Mildred asks of Marcus Aurelius, "Wasn't he a European?" Also, Mildred assumes a priori that Marcus Aurelius was a radical, simply because he wrote; of course, the Roman emperor was not a radical in any sense of the word, but in the world of Fahrenheit 451, all books and authors are ideologically suspect by default.
In Part 3, Granger alludes to the ancient, cross-cultural myth of the Phoenix.
There was a silly damn bird called a Phoenix back before Christ, every few hundred years he built a pyre and burned himself up. He must have been first cousin to Man. But every time he burnt himself up he sprang out of the ashes, he got himself born all over again. And it looks like we’re doing the same thing, over and over, but we’ve got one damn thing the Phoenix never had. We know the damn silly thing we just did. We know all the damn silly things we’ve done for a thousand years and as long as we know that and always have it around where we can see it, some day we’ll stop making the goddam funeral pyres and jumping in the middle of them.
His purpose in telling Guy this story is to illustrate a point: human civilization is cyclical, and even though humans often work against their own best interests (as is the case with the book burning), they can recover from the destruction they've wrought like the Phoenix rising from the ashes. In this case, then, the myth works as a metaphor for human behavior. The distinction Granger makes between the Phoenix and humankind is also illustrative, and especially emphasizes the power of books: they allow humans to record and remember "all the damn silly things we've done for a thousand years" so that someday, ideally, humanity will stop doing them.
This is a hopeful note to end the book on. Essentially, Granger asserts that this dystopia too shall pass, and is in fact a product of a natural if lamentable pattern of human behavior. It's fitting that he chooses to metaphorize the dystopian society in this fiery myth. The Phoenix allusion recasts the novel's burning and destruction as cleansing. In the myth, fire is necessary for the Phoenix's rebirth, and so perhaps even the horrible events of Fahrenheit 451 will lead to a better society.