It’s hard to be brave.
But knowing that you’re doing the right thing, knowing that you’re acting out of love, infuses one with a strength that transcends all understanding.
I’ve been reading The Italian by one of my favorite authors, Ann Radcliffe.
Her words are lyrical and of course…sublime. She is the same author who wrote The Mysteries of Udolpho (one of Jane Austen’s favorite novels).
The Italian is a gothic tale, a romance in which the power of darkness attempts to keep two lovers apart. Within the religious walls of a remote convent, over rocky mountains, steep cliffs and palaces, the natural and supernatural collide.
At one point, our hero, Vivaldi begs the help of an Abate. Helping Vivaldi would go against the Abate’s wicked superior, so — out of weakness — he declines. It’s disappointing and sad. He fails to find his courage. I see this characteristic in many people today and am sometimes guilty of being weak myself.
Being brave is hard, but we must always be brave enough to show compassion, do what is right, and help someone in need.
In this Abate, a mildness of temper, and a gentleness of manner were qualities of less value than is usually and deservedly imputed to them; for, being connected with feebleness of mind, they were but the pleasing merits of easy times, which in an hour of difficulty never assumed the character of virtues, by inducing him to serve those for whom he might feel. And thus, with a temper and disposition directly opposite to those of the severe and violent abbess, he was equally selfish, and almost equally culpable, since by permitting evil, he was nearly as injurious in his conduct as those who planned it. Indolence and timidity, a timidity the consequence of want of clear perception, deprived him of all energy of character; he was prudent rather than wise, and so fearful of being thought to do wrong that he seldom did right.
– Ann Radcliffe, The Italian