Wanting to please sucks.
In search of other people’s approval, so-and-so does what he doesn’t want, shut up when he has a lot to say, samba when he wants a tango.
And, even with such an effort, scrotum and scrotum licked later, rejection may be inevitable – great fear of the pipol pleaser.
History (and our stories) is full of examples.
See the fable of Pepe Botella (1768-1844), once upon a time king of spainaka Pepe (Zé) Cachaça, in the freedom of translation of this one who speaks to you.
Born José Bonaparte, he was the eldest brother of Napoleon, and he was appointed by him as a half-sudden monarch in July 1808, at the age of 40, to buffer the spirits of the wars. españolas for independence (1808 – 1814). They say I didn’t even want to.
He had previous experience as a diplomat and his brother’s deluxe messenger in battles and negotiations here and there, but a career as a king was not among his ambitions. On top of that, José was left with a hot potato to please the Spaniards, who were understandably upset by the French invasions at this point.
— Vaya regalito that you have given me brother!* -laments Zé, or rather José I de España, in the theatrical show “La revolución de las Pepas” (by Stella Manaut, a tragicomedy about the revolt of women “cigarettes” — cigarette rollers — in Cádiz at the time of approval of the first Spanish constitution in 1812).
(*”What a gift from m…!”)
The regalito, of course: the kingdom of Spain, then invaded by Napoleonic troops, who were scouting the territory under the pretext of wanting to reach Portugal and such.
***
Now, and how did Zé Bona become Zé Cachaça I of Spain?
Such a kind nickname was basically born out of the resentment of the Spanish population towards the Napoleonic invasion.
The caricature of José Bonaparte has survived the historical winds and found its way into today’s conversations, when you can occasionally hear someone call a friend babe (bêbzzdo) by Pepe Botella (as I witnessed with essezóio y orêias que la tierra ha de cumê).
But to this day there are a thousand controversies about the boundaries between the character, his real life and the degree of bullying that would end up ejecting him from power along with the Napoleonic defeat in 1814.
Some biographers emphasize that Zé Bona tried at all costs (and without success) to fit in with the “Afrancesados”, as the “enlightened” Spaniards sympathizing with Napoleonism were known.
They also say that he was a womanizer (as, by the way, was common among nobles and disnobles). In fact, he had affairs with different women throughout his life, while maintaining an official marriage with Frenchwoman Marie Julie Clary – who, by the way, never set foot in Spain.
People of the séu. Poor Mary. Or not. Huh.
Among Pepe’s lovers, the most famous was the widowed Cuban countess Teresa Montalvo, with whom, they say, the monarch cuddled in a palace-garçonnière on Rue del Clavel in Madrid. After she passed away, still young, Pepe went quietly into mimimi with his daughter Maria Mercedes.
Kcete.
Hence the delicate popular trovinha was born: “La señora condesa has a tintero where she moja la pluma José primeee-ee-ero”!
(*”The countess has an inkwell where she wets the pen José primeeee-eee-eirooo!”)
Other bad-tempered scholars swear that the guy at heart was a kind and well-meaning soul, as well as a passionate mystic of the arts and letters. Who cared about the future of Spain and was not the “bon vivant” that the press portrayed at the time. And that, among a thousand others thingssowed the seeds for the creation of the famous Prado Museum, in Madrid, officially founded by his successor, Fernando VII.
(To be continued soon—)
(The story got long!)
