"Difficulties are attempted either for the sake of God or for thesake of the world, or for both; those undertaken for God's sake arethose which the saints undertake when they attempt to live the livesof angels in human bodies; those undertaken for the sake of theworld are those of the men who traverse such a vast expanse ofwater, such a variety of climates, so many strange countries, toacquire what are called the blessings of fortune; and those undertakenfor the sake of God and the world together are those of bravesoldiers, who no sooner do they see in the enemy's wall a breach aswide as a cannon ball could make, than, casting aside all fear,without hesitating, or heeding the manifest peril that threatens them,borne onward by the desire of defending their faith, their country,and their king, they fling themselves dauntlessly into the midst ofthe thousand opposing deaths that await them. Such are the things thatmen are wont to attempt, and there is honour, glory, gain, inattempting them, however full of difficulty and peril they may be; butthat which thou sayest it is thy wish to attempt and carry out willnot win thee the glory of God nor the blessings of fortune nor fameamong men; for even if the issue he as thou wouldst have it, thou wiltbe no happier, richer, or more honoured than thou art this moment; andif it be otherwise thou wilt be reduced to misery greater than canbe imagined, for then it will avail thee nothing to reflect that noone is aware of the misfortune that has befallen thee; it will sufficeto torture and crush thee that thou knowest it thyself. And inconfirmation of the truth of what I say, let me repeat to thee astanza made by the famous poet Luigi Tansillo at the end of thefirst part of his 'Tears of Saint Peter,' which says thus:
The anguish and the shame but greater grew
In Peter's heart as morning slowly came;
No eye was there to see him, well he knew,
Yet he himself was to himself a shame;
Exposed to all men's gaze, or screened from view,
A noble heart will feel the pang the same;
A prey to shame the sinning soul will be,
Though none but heaven and earth its shame can see.Thus by keeping it secret thou wilt not escape thy sorrow, butrather thou wilt shed tears unceasingly, if not tears of the eyes,tears of blood from the heart, like those shed by that simple doctorour poet tells us of, that tried the test of the cup, which the wiseRinaldo, better advised, refused to do; for though this may be apoetic fiction it contains a moral lesson worthy of attention andstudy and imitation. Moreover by what I am about to say to thee thouwilt be led to see the great error thou wouldst commit.
"Tell me, Anselmo, if Heaven or good fortune had made thee masterand lawful owner of a diamond of the finest quality, with theexcellence and purity of which all the lapidaries that had seen it hadbeen satisfied, saying with one voice and common consent that inpurity, quality, and fineness, it was all that a stone of the kindcould possibly be, thou thyself too being of the same belief, asknowing nothing to the contrary, would it be reasonable in thee todesire to take that diamond and place it between an anvil and ahammer, and by mere force of blows and strength of arm try if itwere as hard and as fine as they said? And if thou didst, and if thestone should resist so silly a test, that would add nothing to itsvalue or reputation; and if it were broken, as it might be, wouldnot all be lost? Undoubtedly it would, leaving its owner to be ratedas a fool in the opinion of all. Consider, then, Anselmo my friend,that Camilla is a diamond of the finest quality as well in thyestimation as in that of others, and that it is contrary to reasonto expose her to the risk of being broken; for if she remains intactshe cannot rise to a higher value than she now possesses; and if shegive way and be unable to resist, bethink thee now how thou wilt bedeprived of her, and with what good reason thou wilt complain ofthyself for having been the cause of her ruin and thine own.Remember there is no jewel in the world so precious as a chaste andvirtuous woman, and that the whole honour of women consists inreputation; and since thy wife's is of that high excellence thatthou knowest, wherefore shouldst thou seek to call that truth inquestion? Remember, my friend, that woman is an imperfect animal,and that impediments are not to be placed in her way to make hertrip and fall, but that they should be removed, and her path leftclear of all obstacles, so that without hindrance she may run hercourse freely to attain the desired perfection, which consists inbeing virtuous. Naturalists tell us that the ermine is a little animalwhich has a fur of purest white, and that when the hunters wish totake it, they make use of this artifice. Having ascertained the placeswhich it frequents and passes, they stop the way to them with mud, andthen rousing it, drive it towards the spot, and as soon as theermine comes to the mud it halts, and allows itself to be takencaptive rather than pass through the mire, and spoil and sully itswhiteness, which it values more than life and liberty. The virtuousand chaste woman is an ermine, and whiter and purer than snow is thevirtue of modesty; and he who wishes her not to lose it, but to keepand preserve it, must adopt a course different from that employed withthe ermine; he must not put before her the mire of the gifts andattentions of persevering lovers, because perhaps- and even withouta perhaps- she may not have sufficient virtue and natural strengthin herself to pass through and tread under foot these impediments;they must be removed, and the brightness of virtue and the beauty of afair fame must be put before her. A virtuous woman, too, is like amirror, of clear shining crystal, liable to be tarnished and dimmed byevery breath that touches it. She must be treated as relics are;adored, not touched. She must be protected and prized as oneprotects and prizes a fair garden full of roses and flowers, the ownerof which allows no one to trespass or pluck a blossom; enough forothers that from afar and through the iron grating they may enjoyits fragrance and its beauty. Finally let me repeat to thee someverses that come to my mind; I heard them in a modern comedy, and itseems to me they bear upon the point we are discussing. A prudentold man was giving advice to another, the father of a young girl, tolock her up, watch over her and keep her in seclusion, and among otherarguments he used these:
Woman is a thing of glass;
But her brittleness 'tis best
Not too curiously to test:
Who knows what may come to pass?
Breaking is an easy matter,
And it's folly to expose
What you cannot mend to blows;
What you can't make whole to shatter.
This, then, all may hold as true,
And the reason's plain to see;
For if Danaes there be,
There are golden showers too.
"All that I have said to thee so far, Anselmo, has had referenceto what concerns thee; now it is right that I should say somethingof what regards myself; and if I be prolix, pardon me, for thelabyrinth into which thou hast entered and from which thou wouldsthave me extricate thee makes it necessary.
"Thou dost reckon me thy friend, and thou wouldst rob me ofhonour, a thing wholly inconsistent with friendship; and not only dostthou aim at this, but thou wouldst have me rob thee of it also. Thatthou wouldst rob me of it is clear, for when Camilla sees that I paycourt to her as thou requirest, she will certainly regard me as aman without honour or right feeling, since I attempt and do a thing somuch opposed to what I owe to my own position and thy friendship. Thatthou wouldst have me rob thee of it is beyond a doubt, for Camilla,seeing that I press my suit upon her, will suppose that I haveperceived in her something light that has encouraged me to makeknown to her my base desire; and if she holds herself dishonoured, herdishonour touches thee as belonging to her; and hence arises what socommonly takes place, that the husband of the adulterous woman, thoughhe may not be aware of or have given any cause for his wife'sfailure in her duty, or （being careless or negligent） have had it inhis power to prevent his dishonour, nevertheless is stigmatised by avile and reproachful name, and in a manner regarded with eyes ofcontempt instead of pity by all who know of his wife's guilt, thoughthey see that he is unfortunate not by his own fault, but by thelust of a vicious consort. But I will tell thee why with good reasondishonour attaches to the husband of the unchaste wife, though he knownot that she is so, nor be to blame, nor have done anything, orgiven any provocation to make her so; and be not weary withlistening to me, for it will be for thy good.
"When God created our first parent in the earthly paradise, the HolyScripture says that he infused sleep into Adam and while he slept tooka rib from his left side of which he formed our mother Eve, and whenAdam awoke and beheld her he said, 'This is flesh of my flesh, andbone of my bone.' And God said 'For this shall a man leave hisfather and his mother, and they shall be two in one flesh; and thenwas instituted the divine sacrament of marriage, with such ties thatdeath alone can loose them. And such is the force and virtue of thismiraculous sacrament that it makes two different persons one and thesame flesh; and even more than this when the virtuous are married; forthough they have two souls they have but one will. And hence itfollows that as the flesh of the wife is one and the same with that ofher husband the stains that may come upon it, or the injuries itincurs fall upon the husband's flesh, though he, as has been said, mayhave given no cause for them; for as the pain of the foot or anymember of the body is felt by the whole body, because all is oneflesh, as the head feels the hurt to the ankle without having causedit, so the husband, being one with her, shares the dishonour of thewife; and as all worldly honour or dishonour comes of flesh and blood,and the erring wife's is of that kind, the husband must needs bear hispart of it and be held dishonoured without knowing it. See, then,Anselmo, the peril thou art encountering in seeking to disturb thepeace of thy virtuous consort; see for what an empty and ill-advisedcuriosity thou wouldst rouse up passions that now repose in quiet inthe breast of thy chaste wife; reflect that what thou art stakingall to win is little, and what thou wilt lose so much that I leaveit undescribed, not having the words to express it. But if all Ihave said be not enough to turn thee from thy vile purpose, thoumust seek some other instrument for thy dishonour and misfortune;for such I will not consent to be, though I lose thy friendship, thegreatest loss that I can conceive."