Francisco de Quevedo y Villegas was born in Madrid in 1580 and died in Villanueva de los Infantes, Ciudad Real, Spain, in 1645. He distinguished himself as a nobleman, politician and one of the most significant writers of the Baroque period in Spain. He studied Theology at the University of Valladolid, where he became a poet of great renown and wrote in opposition to his contemporary, Luis de Góngora. He cultivated all literary genres, but stood out chiefly for his great mastery of language, including his highly ironic style.
Francisco de Quevedo’s political side is largely unknown to the public.
Below, we will discuss excerpts from his work Política de Dios y gobierno de Cristo, sacada de la Sagrada Escritura para acierto del Rey y reino en sus acciones/ God’s policy and Christ’s rule, drawn from Holy Scripture to guide the King and the kingdom in their actions in the style of the Minerva Strategy Blog.
“No servant, nor minister of the King, is one who displays such grandeur that he is not merely equal to his king, but superior to him; such a man covets the crown; he is a rival for power; a tyrant, raised on the breast of favour, and nourished and grown by the arrogance of ignorance and greed” (Francisco de Quevedo, Política de Dios y gobierno de Cristo, I.XVII).
Envy is a poor guide. In this case, the minister is eager to take the crown and acts with duplicity and disloyalty. Each day has enough trouble of its own, and it is good to know how to fulfil one’s responsibilities at every moment, with diligence, integrity and loyalty. Positions are a learning experience for the future.
It is often said in Spanish, “Do not serve those who have served.” This phrase is attributed to Antonio Cánovas del Castillo and implies a certain notion of elitism, whereby only those of the same standing should be able to hold positions of influence. In my view, it is precisely because one has served that one can set a good example of how to treat a subordinate.
“Reigning is a task; that the duties of a ruler demand more sweat than the plough, and sweat drawn from the very veins; that the crown is a burdensome weight, which wearies the shoulders of the soul before it does the body’s strength; that palaces, for the idle prince, are tombs of a dead life, and for the one who attends to them, a scaffold of a living death—this is affirmed by the glorious memories of those enlightened princes who did not tarnish their legacies, counting among their crowned years not a single hour without labour.” (Francisco de Quevedo, Política de Dios y gobierno de Cristo, II.XIII).
Those who devote themselves to public life should spend their days working, not idling away. This reminds me of a story I heard at the University of Oxford about the scholarship profession being viewed as a kind of priesthood, where academic life demands calling/vocation and total dedication, which is reflected in the personal and formative influence on students that goes beyond simply delivering lectures. Once again, the question arises as to what virtues those in government should have, and what virtues professors should have.
“The foremost virtue of a king is obedience; for, being well aware of the value of temperance and moderation, it enables him to rule with gentleness whilst exercising supreme power. Obedience is no humiliation for monarchs, who, as men of great spirit, recognise their subjection to reason, piety and the Law. He who obeys these rules, rules well, and he who rules without having obeyed them torments rather than governs” (Francisco de Quevedo, Política de Dios y gobierno de Cristo II.XVI).
This is a reflection on Political Philosophy that challenges the notion of unlimited power. It sounds paradoxical to advise the king —the sovereign— on the virtue of obedience, but Quevedo makes it seem reasonable. First, by appealing to temperance and moderation, virtues already highlighted by Aristotle, and, second, by setting reason, piety and the laws as a guide.
That those in power obey the Law is a fundamental principle of the Rule of Law. It is desirable that they act rationally, as it would be hard to accept being ruled by someone like Nero. It would be commendable if they were compassionate, as the plight of the most vulnerable would be taken into account.
“The great and magnanimous King Alfonso of Aragon (whom all nations rightly call the Wise) possessed such learned and unyielding patience that he not only tolerated being defied—as was seen in the case of the soldier who insolently stopped him in public in Naples— but, not content merely to forgive them, he rewarded those who spoke ill of him; nor did he permit others to be spoken of in his presence, as happened with those who remarked on Nicolo Pichinino’s low birth. Not only did he not object to them disobeying him, but he commanded all his advisers not to obey him in matters where he ordered contrary to reason; and to the ministers who were subject to these superiors, he commanded that they should not obey them in matters that were not just” (Francisco de Quevedo, Política de Dios y gobierno de Cristo II.XX).
This reminds me of the Euthyphro dilemma, which Plato first raised. There is a version involving God, which would ask: “Is the good good because God commands it, or does God command it because it is good?”
There is another way of framing this dilemma in terms of the concept of sovereignty, which might be: “A rule is valid because the sovereign authority enacts it —Hobbes, Austin—, or the authority enacts it because it is just —Thomas Aquinas—.”
King Alfonso of Aragon urged people not to obey him in matters that were neither reasonable nor just. It would seem, then, that obedience may involve further considerations beyond mere legal validity. Entire libraries are devoted to debating these issues, which are of interest to the Philosophy of Law. This dilemma is typically addressed from either a formalist or a material perspective.







