Words Fitly Written

The thing is, to keep your eye upon words and wait to feel their force and beauty; and when
words are so fit that no other words can be put in their places, so few that none can be left out
without spoiling the sense, and so fresh and musical that they delight you, then you may be sure
you are reading Literature, whether in prose or poetry.

Charlotte Mason (Ourselves, p. 41)

It was The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, by C.S. Lewis. This was the book that first
displayed, as Miss Mason says, the “force and beauty” of words fitly written. Susan and Lucy
Pevensie have just heard of the great Lion, Aslan, from Mrs. Beaver, and wonder if he is “safe.”
To this Mr. Beaver cries, “ ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.” To my
eight year old mind, this seemingly confusing statement was a revelation. How could someone
be both dangerous ( or “not safe”) and good? But then I had not heard the rest of the story. I had
not seen Aslan’s enemies quake and flee from his power, or the White Witch fall before his
“deeper magic.” And I had not felt Edmund’s guilt and shame, lifted from him by what could be
called dangerous mercy. After the final pages were read, I could see, even in my immature eight
year old mind, that Mr. Lewis was not confused; characters can be both unsafe and good.

Unsurprisingly, as I grew and my love of reading increased so did my appreciation for words.
Shakespeare showed me words of romance, “It is the east and Juliet is the sun” (Romeo and
Juliet), words of derision, “I do desire we may be better strangers” (As You Like It), and words of
grace, “the rarer action is/ In virtue than in vengeance” (The Tempest). I learned the worth of
subtle wit and a skillfully penned letter in the works of Jane Austen, where words can cut or
mend with supreme deftness. Who can forget Elizabeth Bennett chastising Mr. Darcy for not
behaving “in a more gentlemanlike manner?” In college, I explored the poetry of Seamus
Heaney, a poet whose hands knew not only the feel of a pen, “Between my finger and my
thumb/The squat pen rests; snug as a gun” (Digging 1-2), but also the hard labor of lugging sacks
of grain by holding on to the corners, “To give me purchase, ready for the heave—“ (Human
Chain 6).

These words and many others have clung to my consciousness for all these years. They should,
though, as they are words of “force and beauty.” Miss Mason beautifully articulates the enduring
power of words, the bedrocks on which true “Literature” is built. Words of weight and power and
loveliness flesh out beloved characters like Atticus Finch, Neville Longbottom, Pauline from The
Winter’s Tale, and Gandalf. Villains like Fagan, Iago, and Wickham come to life through words
of deceit and judgement. Lothlorian, Narnia, Maycomb, The Pequod, Thornfield Hall: these and
all other places where Literature takes us are dependent on the right words “put in their places.”
Miss Mason reminds us that the words and phrases of good writing will never fall into the
shadows of our minds. For they are alive.