So, do you remember before when I said that every morning Isit down in front of my computer and just start googling random crap to see
what I find? I wasn’t kidding. Today I want to talk to you about Saint
Exuberance.
First off, yes, there really was a Saint
Exuberance. She was apparently a nun
who died in 380 AD. Exuberance is a
modernization of her actual name, which was Exuperantia. The thing about Exuberance that really
bothers me? No one knows anything about
her. I mean, someone took the time to
write down her name under the “virgin saint” column in some book in Troyes,
France, and then decided she was holy enough for sainthood…but no one knows
why. She wasn’t martyred; she died of
natural causes. If she would have done
something remarkable it would have been remarked upon in a footnote in that “died
a virgin” book that the Vatican apparently keeps.
So, being the “give till it hurts” kinda guy I am, I’ve
decided that Saint Exuberance needs a divine makeover. It’s like I always say: If you can’t find the truth, make some crap
up. I think I get that from my Republican father.
Here’s our before picture of Exuberance, then. It’s actually not Exuberance. No one sculpted her or drew a picture of
her.
….now do you see why she needs a makeover? When the only thing she’s known for is dying
a virgin? In France?
I submit the following “newly discovered facts” about
Exuberance. These facts are based solely
on the reality that no one likes a good cover up more than Holy Mother Church. I think this biographical profile is completely plausible.
If you use your imagination and aren’t in the mood to be
offended.
Exuberance was born Claude Maxime
Archambault in Biefvillers, France.
Biefvillers was a small village north of present day Troyes and east of
Paris. He was the fourteenth of twelve
children. This mathematical abnormality
has generated quite a bit of debate within the ecclesiastical historical
community. For a while there was a
movement among French scholars which insisted that it was merely a typo, that Claude
was the fourth of twelve
children. This movement was put down
quickly by the majority within the academic community who point to the fact
that the French are known for their cooking and not their counting. “Besides,” one learned scholar argues in his
defense of the more traditional interpretation of the birth order of Juliette’s
family. “How can you have typos without
typewriters?” The French faction, being
French, quickly surrendered.
Claude’s mother was the local wet
nurse and his father was apparently the village idiot.
Claude’s father died when he
was quite young. Apparently Claude’s
father had brought home a wheel of Pont l'Evêque cheese one too many times for Claude’s
mother’s liking. Claude’s mother had convinced his father that his father was
trapped in a mime’s box. She refused to
let him out and went so far as to “swallow” the “key.” He
eventually suffocated. The local
magistrate had ordered her to spend the night in the stocks but no one had the
heart to lock Claude’s mother up because she had suffered through her marriage
for so many years. Besides, the villages
of Biefvillers couldn’t stop laughing long enough to execute the magistrate’s
orders.
After his father’s death, Claude’s
mother remarried the renowned fourth century amateur dramatic society thespian extraordinaire,
Monsieur Jean-Paul Némard. Claude adored
Monsieur Némard and Monsieur Némard adored the way Claude adored him. It was from Monsieur Némard that Claude took
his apprenticeship. Monsieur Némard put
Claude to work in his theatre troop, managing costumes and makeup.
Claude soon discovered that
he had a gift for costuming people. A
quote that was discovered in a diary suspecting to belong to Claude Maxime
Archambault (which may be explored in more detail at a later date) reads, “Baise Je suis bon à faire peoplee laides
semblent paniquer sexy.” This line,
I am told, roughly translates to, “I am immensely gratified to witness the
transformative process which occurs under my cosmetic ministrations.”
It wasn’t long until the
small village of Biefvillers could no longer contain Monsieur Némard’s
ego. After attempting to reengage the
Grecian classics by reinventing them and reintroducing them to the people of
Biefvillers, who made it quite clear they weren’t interested in watching a play
entitled “Medea: The Musical” with the sub-legend “A joyous retelling of the
classic story of a woman scorned who goes on a whimsical, murderous rampage.” After the tenth failed performance in three
days, Monsieur Némard declared, according to Claude’s diary, “Vas te faire encule , vous en arrière hicks pays . Je prends mon talent et d'aller quelque part, il sera apprécié .” Which translates as, “I’m sorry to say that
my time in the beautiful village of Biefvillers has come to an end. Alas, I find myself needing to expand my
experiences so that my talent will grow.
I will miss you all terribly.”
Claude left the little village of
Biefvillers and traveled with Monsieur Némard with whom he continued his
apprenticeship. Claude indicates in his diary
that Monsieur Némard was so pleased with Claude’s skill that his duties were
expanded. Claude writes: “ Le vieux
salaud me force maintenant à porter ses bagages . Que suis je? Un âne?” Which
translates as, “Monsieur has given me responsibility for the transport of the
troupe’s costumes and equipment. What
more could I ask for? Am I not the
luckiest person in the world?”
Claude continued to hone his
craft. He became so certain that he
could make the most masculine of men in Monsieur Némard’s Amateur Dramtic
Society of Thespians look like the most realistic, beautiful, feminine
women. This was quite revolutionary as
it was the practice to pursue a comedic representation of women in theatre
rather than a realistic one. In order to
prove his point, one evening Claude liberated some costumes from the troupe’s
baggage cart and applied his trade to himself.
To test his hypothesis, that he could indeed create the most realistic
feminine form from a masculine visage, Claude slipped away to the neighboring
town.
Not only was his makeup and
costuming a success, allowing him to pass as a country girl visiting the town
and experiencing all that the town had to offer, but Claude soon found that he
was quite the actor. In the simple gown
and made up face, he found a courage he had never experienced before. A boldness.
He soon realized he was flirting with the men he met on the street and
the barkeep behind the counter of the inn where he took his supper that night.
The trip was unfolding as a
great triumph until he flirted with the wrong person. The teenage boy, handsomely dressed, had been
the son of the local noble who took Claude as a transient whore trying to get
her hands on the family’s money. He
immediately had Claude arrested and transported to the nearby nunnery.
Claude suddenly found
himself in a most awkward position. He
could tell the truth, admit that he was actually a member of Monsieur Némard’s
Amateur Dramatic Society of Thespians, but if he did that he knew the
punishment would be dire. Here he was,
not a woman at all, having spent the evening flirting with every man in the
town. The law didn’t look kindly on
people who engaged in that kind of behavior.
Or….
He could just roll with
it. He could continue the act for the
time being and wait for an opportunity for escape to present itself. At least, in this way, he could exercise his
newly discovered gift for acting more.
This is why, when the mother
superior of the convent looked Claude in the eye and asked, “Quel est votre nom?” Claude replied,
with a small grin, “Exuperantia.”
And that, friends, is the
honest to God truth behind the birth of St. Exuberance.
To be continued….
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