As the narrator, John Dowell, sets the stage for the events of The Good Soldier, Ford employs allusions to establish the backgrounds and social statuses of the main characters John and Florence Dowell, and Leonora and Edward Ashburnham:
They were descended, as you will probably expect, from the Ashburnham who accompanied Charles I to the scaffold, and, as you must also expect with this class of English people, you would never have noticed it. Mrs Ashburnham was a Powys; Florence was a Hurlbird of Stamford, Connecticut, where, as you know, they are more old-fashioned than even the inhabitants of Cranford, England, could have been. I myself am a Dowell of Philadelphia, Pa., where, it is historically true, there are more old English families than you would find in any six English counties taken together
John’s specific and thorough allusions to prominent families in the UK and America emphasizes the wealth and social status of the characters: it also makes him seem self-important and somewhat boastful to the reader, right from the start. The reference to the Ashburnhams' descent from the “companion of Charles I to the scaffold” highlights their deeply English heritage and establishes their place in the upper crust of English society. The allusion refers to the English King Charles the First, who was executed by beheading on January 30, 1649, during the English Civil War. This direct connection to a distant historical figure associated with royalty underscores the Ashburnhams' long-standing aristocratic lineage. As if this weren’t enough, John goes on to identify Leonora as a member of the Powys family, another nod to her distinguished English background. The contrast between the English and American characters is immediately set up as a point of contention here.
Furthermore, Florence, an American, is from Stamford, Connecticut, which John quickly assures the reader is “even more old-fashioned” than England is. He also introduces himself as “a Dowell” of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, implying that he comes from a family famous and singular enough to be known to anyone reading. His reference to Philadelphia having “more old English families than many parts of England” further highlights the contrast between American and English high society: John seems very keen to establish for the reader that his own background is just as distinguished as that of the Ashburnhams’. Cultural differences—particularly 20th-century American insecurities about class and refinement—play an important role in this novel, especially as both couples come from the highest echelons of class in their own countries.
As The Good Soldier opens, Ford uses an allusion and a metaphor to outline the seriousness of the small, internal events of marriages and relationships for the reader:
Someone has said that the death of a mouse from cancer is the whole sack of Rome by the Goths, and I swear to you that the breaking up of our little four-square coterie was such another unthinkable event.
The metaphor comparing the "unthinkable event" of the group's breakup to a “mouse's death from cancer” suggests that the ugliness of their daily interpersonal dynamics—though it might appear trivial in the grand scheme of things—actually carries a hefty weight. The metaphor underscores the idea that the collapse of personal relationships is just as serious in some contexts as the destruction of a city or a death. Depending on one's perspective, things can either seem very trivial or extremely important: this is a key idea that Ford pursues throughout the entirety of The Good Soldier. It might not matter much to anyone else, but the mouse’s own “death by cancer” certainly matters to the mouse.
The allusion to the “sack of Rome by the Goths” adds historical context, dramatizing the disbanding of John’s shaky social group. In 410 C.E. the city of Rome was pillaged by a Germanic tribe called the Visigoths. It was the first time the powerful city had fallen to a foreign enemy. It was also the beginning of the collapse of the Roman Empire, and the transition to the global Medieval era. This historical reference to a transformative event in history parallels the emotional and psychological upheaval experienced by all of Ford’s characters. Just as the world was never the same after the fall of the Roman Empire, John's life and the lives of his companions are never the same after the events of this novel. The allusion suggests the gravity of their situation. It casts the destruction of their affections and intimacies as more than personal losses, but as events with historical and dramatic weight.
In this early passage, the narrator utilizes both visual imagery and allusion to describe his discomfort at seeing Leonora in her more formal evening attire:
I never thought that Leonora looked her best in evening dress. She seemed to get it too clearly cut, there was no ruffling. She always affected black and her shoulders were too classical. She seemed to stand out of her corsage as a white marble bust might out of a black Wedgwood vase. I don’t know.
The visual imagery Ford uses here contrasts the starkness of black dress and white skin, painting a bold picture for the reader of a dramatic outfit. The description of Leonora’s attire as "too clearly cut, there was no ruffling" and her preference for “affected black” draws a parallel between her straightforward and morally upright nature and the choice of her evening dress. Even at this early point in the novel, Leonora makes John uncomfortable because there is “no ruffling” to her: she is, he thinks, as she seems to be.
The imagery of her shoulders being "too classical" for this kind of outfit likens her to a marble sculpture. It suggests both her beauty and a certain coldness or rigidity. Instead of her clothes being flattering, she “stands out” in them "as a white marble bust might out of a black Wedgwood vase." Marble busts, or small statues of people's heads and shoulders, are not conventionally displayed in vases: busts would typically be displayed as freestanding objects, and vases would contain plants or flowers will be displayed empty. This incongruity also points to Leonora's social rigidity and the sense of stiffness she gives off. She's so ill-suited to this kind of dress that she looks to John like one hard, beautiful object oddly and unnecessarily contained within another.
The allusion to a "black Wedgwood vase" adds to this. Wedgwood vases are a sort of very valuable English pottery from the 18th century. They are known for their pale neoclassical designs, are somewhat rare and delicate, and in the early 20th century were considered very old-fashioned, all qualities that align with Leonora's character traits. The comparison to a Wedgwood vase suggests Leonora's value and refinement. However, it also points to the related ideas of her hard brittleness and the quintessentially English nature of her character. Like an antique vase, she appears strong but is actually vulnerable to cracking or breaking. Finally, like a prized antique object, she also gives off an air of untouchability.
As John describes his time spent caring for Florence’s “weak heart,” Ford uses an idiom to convey John’s complex feelings toward Florence after her affair and his long stint as her nurse:
You cannot, you see, have acted as nurse to a person for twelve years without wishing to go on nursing them, even though you hate them with the hatred of the adder [...]
The idiom "hatred of the adder" suggests an intense, almost instinctive revulsion. Adders are a kind of venomous snake; they are the only venomous reptile that’s native to Great Britain. This phrase comes from the biblical symbolism of the snake as a creature of deception and evil, which echoes John’s view of Florence as morally repugnant. His feelings are conflicted because, despite this hatred, he has been Florence's caregiver for 12 years. This has instilled in him an almost automatic response to want to protect and nurse her, which like many of his other feelings for her feels unnatural and uncomfortable to him.
He experiences a pull between his duty of care—a role he has fulfilled for over a decade—and his visceral reaction to Florence's actions. He hates her for his deception of him but feels almost parental in his protectiveness. The idiom points to this inner conflict, illustrating the difficulty of detangling feelings of care from those of resentment and betrayal.
The passage also explores his perception of Florence's motives. His “adder-like” hatred is intensified by the belief that her affair was not just a personal failing but a deliberate act to inflict pain on Leonora, which he sees as a serious moral transgression. This layer of judgment adds depth to his animosity. It would be plausibly serious enough had Florence only failed him personally, but his assessment of her character and the impact of her actions on others makes her seem far worse in his eyes. This passage is perhaps the novel's clearest parallel between Florence's figuratively "weak heart" (her infidelity) and her "weak heart" physically.
Although Nancy’s involved in an affair, she doesn’t really understand the implications of it. The narrator uses a simile and an allusion to depict Nancy's naivety and limited understanding of adultery:
She knew that one was commanded not to commit adultery—but why, she thought, should one? It was probably something like catching salmon out of season—a thing one did not do. She gathered it had something to do with kissing, or holding someone in your arms ….
The simile comparing the act of committing adultery to catching salmon out of season reflects Nancy's inability to grasp the concept of adultery. It’s totally beyond her limited experience and understanding. As in many other countries, in the United Kingdom hunting certain kinds of fish or game is legally allocated to different seasons of the year. Doing so outside of these seasons is both illegal and considered morally dubious, as it could impact the stock of the creatures remaining for the next season. In Nancy’s mind, adultery is akin to an illegal or unsportsmanlike act, something "not done," rather than a morally grave transgression. This trivialization suggests her lack of comprehension of an affair’s complexity and seriousness. The comparison to catching salmon out of season—which especially in the grand scheme of this novel seems quite trivial—shows how ill-prepared she is to enter the lion’s den of Leonora’s relationship with Edward. Nancy sees adultery as a mere breach of etiquette rather than a significant moral or emotional issue because she doesn’t know any better.
Additionally, the allusion to the biblical “Ten Commandments” here further illustrates Nancy's superficial understanding. While Nancy is aware that adultery is prohibited by both law and religion, her comparison of it to a minor infraction also points to her lack of lived experience and maturity. The reference to the Commandment here is particularly significant because Leonora and Edward are a Catholic couple. In Catholic theology, adultery is considered a mortal sin. Mortal sins separate the soul from its relationship with God, and within Catholicism are considered the most serious offenses a person can commit. For a sin to be considered “mortal” it has to meet three conditions. It has to be a serious matter, it has to be committed with full knowledge of its sinfulness, and one has to consent to participating in a sinful act. It's unclear whether John thinks Nancy is actually committing a mortal sin here, as the simile comparing her understanding of adultery to “catching salmon out of season” indicates that only one of these three conditions (the seriousness of the act) is met. This also places Nancy's version of adultery in stark contrast to Edward’s, who knows exactly what he's doing, knows it's "sinful," and fully consents to it on many occasions.
Ford uses allusion and hyperbole to express John Dowell's despair after all the emotional upheaval of the novel has passed, and his final questioning of the possibility of true happiness:
Is there any terrestrial paradise where, amidst the whispering of the olive-leaves, people can be with whom they like and have what they like and take their ease in shadows and in coolness? Or are all men’s lives like the lives of us good people—like the lives of the Ashburnhams, of the Dowells, of the Ruffords—broken, tumultuous, agonized, and unromantic lives, periods punctuated by screams, by imbecilities, by deaths, by agonies? Who the devil knows?
The tone of this passage is pretty despairing, as John seems to be totally lacking in any faith that relationships are ever actually happy or internally consistent. The allusion Ford is making here is to the biblical story of the Garden of Eden, the place where the Bible says humanity began. The Garden of Eden was a paradise in which no pain, discomfort, or hardship existed. In the Bible's Book of Genesis, the only people to live in the Garden of Eden were the first man and woman whom God created, Adam and Eve. As there were no other people to distract their attention, adultery was not possible. The phrase "terrestrial paradise" with its "whispering of the olive-leaves," evokes an image of lost innocence and purity and points to John’s jaded view of how relationships in the modern world work. This reference to Eden underscores John’s longing for a simpler, happier existence, free from the complexities and pain of his current life. Even though John himself is far from perfect, he yearns for an impossible ideal where people can truly "take their ease."
The narrator’s use of hyperbole in describing the lives around him as "broken, tumultuous, agonized" and filled with "screams, imbecilities, deaths, agonies" amplifies the novel’s sense of concealed crisis here in its final moments. Things aren’t just bad, they are about as “unromantic” as it is possible to get. The exaggeration in this description underscores the intensity of John’s disillusionment and the depth of his questioning about the point of marriage.
As Leonora passes Edward and John in the hallway of her English home, Ford uses an allusion to point to the discomfort Edward feels at the new state of affairs—and the new status of her knowledge of his “affairs”:
Once, in the hall, when Leonora was going out, Edward said, beneath his breath—but I just caught the words:
Thou hast conquered, O pale Galilean.
It was like his sentimentality to quote Swinburne.
The allusion in this passage is to the poet Algernon Charles Swinburne, a Victorian writer and critic. The allusion to his poem "Hymn to Proserpine" in Edward's muttered line, "Thou hast conquered, O pale Galilean," is significant here because of the way it points to a shift in power dynamics. The poem “Hymn to Proserpine” reflects on the defeat of the pagan gods by the rise of Christianity. The “Pale Galilean” in this quotation is a reference to Jesus Christ, who has “conquered” the world of the older pagan gods. This line suggests Edward's sense of resignation and defeat in the face of Leonora's dominating presence in their English setting. It implies that he sees himself as akin to the old gods, overthrown by Leonora as a more powerful force.
John's reaction to Edward quoting Swinburne adds another layer of complexity here. John feels annoyance at what he perceives as Edward's sentimentality in casting himself as a victim in the affair. “Proserpine” has been “conquered” by Christ in Swinburne’s poem, but as John doesn’t see Leonora as “conquering” Edward, this comment adds a critical dimension to the narrative. Instead, he views Edward's allusion as a dramatically "sentimental" and self-pitying way of framing his situation.
