An Alphabet of History — Reading Notes

Anachronism as Satirical Device

Nesbit consistently transplants modern concerns into ancient settings. Alexander weeps because there is no "clicking kodak" to record his exploits; Brutus and Cassius worry about Caesar's control of the "Rome postoffice." These anachronisms are not errors but deliberate jokes, highlighting the gap between grand historical narratives and mundane modern life. The poems imply that fame depends on media coverage, not deeds. In "Ulysses," the hero's long absence is reframed as a failure to pay rent, with Penelope struggling "to get cash to pay the rent" while Telemachus "never earned a cent." The humor undercuts epic heroism by applying domestic economics to myth.

Diction and Rhyme: Comic Collisions

Nesbit's verse relies on jarring word choices and forced rhymes. He pairs formal names with slang: Julius Caesar is a "frosty geezer," and Brutus is told "it all depends on having things to suit us." The meter often stumbles for comic effect, as in the line about Alexander: "He was grouchy and grumpy, was Aleck." Nesbit also plays with spelling and pronunciation, noting that Shakespeare's signature appears as "Shaxpere," "Shakspere," and "Shaikspeare." This metrical and lexical playfulness mirrors the poems' thematic point: history itself is a kind of mishearing or distortion. The rhymes are often deliberately weak or silly, reinforcing the sense that these are not serious biographies.

Ellsworth Young's Illustrations and the Visual Frame

The book's subtitle credits "The Words by Wilbur D. Nesbit" and "The Pictures by Ellsworth Young." Although the excerpts do not include the illustrations, the table of contents lists each figure alongside a corresponding image. The visual component likely amplifies the satirical tone, as suggested by the opening quatrain: "Who frets about the mystery / Enshrouding all of history / On reading this will, maybe, see / We've made it plain as A, B, C." The claim to make history "plain" is ironic, given the poems' deliberate distortions. Young's style, known from other works of the period, probably rendered historical figures in caricatured or anachronistic settings, complementing Nesbit's verbal jokes.

The Alphabet as Structural Constraint

Nesbit organizes his poems alphabetically, from Alexander to Zenobia, a structure that imposes arbitrary order on historical chronology. This format allows for unexpected juxtapositions: the Greek philosopher Diogenes appears between Columbus and Euripides, while the pirate Kidd follows the playwright Jonson. The alphabetical sequence does not follow historical period or geography, emphasizing the artificiality of categorization. Each poem is a self-contained vignette, roughly equal in length, suggesting that all figures are equally subject to mockery. The constraint also forces Nesbit to include lesser-known figures like Yvetot (a French village) and Zenobia (a Palmyrene queen), expanding the scope beyond typical historical rosters.

Readers should approach An Alphabet of History as a period piece of early twentieth-century humor, not as a reference work. Nesbit's irreverence anticipates later satirical histories, but his targets are specific to the popular historical knowledge of 1905. The poems reward attention to wordplay and anachronistic detail, while Ellsworth Young's illustrations (not reproduced here) likely complete the comic effect. The book is best read in short bursts, one letter at a time, allowing each figure's absurd premise to land.

There’s something touching in how Nesbit’s old verses make history feel like gossip shared between friends. I kept thinking of that while rereading Wordsworth’s quieter, more patient lines — both books hold a fondness for what time does to memory. The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 4 (of 8) — Reading Companion sits beside it on my shelf, a different kind of looking back.