Not that anyone seems to have been in much doubt on the subject of the potency of female sexuality. Take for example the story which one of the men tells on Day Three. A handsome young peasant named Masetto applies for the role of gardener at a convent in the hope that it will provide him with an opportunity to sleep with some of the nuns. In order to get the job, Masetto pretends to be deaf-mute, thinking that no one will object to his presence if they believe that he can’t chat up the young women.
What he finds instead is that, since he is unable to speak, all of the nuns – and even the abbess – begin to proposition him until finally he is exhausted. Forced to break cover, he reveals what has been happening to the abbess, complaining that he simply hasn’t the stamina to keep up with their appetites. The story has a happy ending: the abbess gives Masetto a promotion and draws up a rota so that he can keep satisfying the convent’s needs into his old age. If you’re looking for a moral, Boccaccio is rarely your best bet.
More like this:
• What ancient women really thought about sex
• 12 of the best books of 2024 so far
• The very grim fairytale that continues to resonate
Of course, it is not just nuns who can’t control their lusts. Before the third day is out, one of the ladies of the group has responded with another tale, this time about an abbot who was “extremely saintly in every way except when it came to women”. Quite the caveat! The randy abbot is wildly in love with a local beauty but unfortunately her jealous husband, Ferondo, watches her every move.
With the aid of his monks, then, the abbot drugs Ferondo and transports him to a cell at the monastery. When he awakes, the monks tell him that he has died and gone to purgatory as a punishment for his jealousy. They keep him there for the best part of a year, beating and scolding him, while his wife, pretending to be in mourning, secretly enjoys regular sessions with the abbot. Finally, the monks tell Ferondo that he can return to the world of the living as long as he mends his ways. Relieved and repentant – and once again under the influence of the sleeping drug – he is returned to his village where he passes the rest of his days as an ideal husband. His wife, for her part, never looks at another man again. With one exception: “whenever she could do so conveniently, she was always happy to spend time with the Abbot who had attended to her greatest needs with such skill and diligence.”
Reading The Decameron – with its lustful monks and badly-behaved nuns – something that becomes quickly apparent is that Boccaccio has little respect for religious authority. This did not escape the notice of the Church. When the Vatican first produced their Index of Banned Books in 1559, the Decameron was there on the list. Not that this stopped people from reading it. In fact, the public outcry at this attempt to suppress the work led to a compromise: a censored edition that kept the sex scenes but rewrote the ones that involved members of the clergy, recasting them as ordinary lay people. Thankfully, the changes have not stuck, and modern translations follow Boccaccio’s original text in all its irreverent glory.
