While Spain was at this time economically bankrupt, the reigns of Philip III and Philip IV comprise nevertheless the most brilliant decades of the Golden Century. These are the years that are marked by the greatest literary activity of Lope de Vega, Cervantes, and Quevedo. Lope had made the theater national and had prepared the way for the romantic genius of Calderón, while a throng of lesser lights, such as Tirso de Molina and Juan Ruiz de Alarcón, were delighting the capital with plays in great profusion. For all this a great stimulus had come from the theater-loving Philip III, who lavished money without stint upon the gorgeous production of comedies, pageants, and masques.

Cervantes had shown the way to the novelists. In prose fiction true characterization had developed to keep pace with extensive and elaborate narrative elements. At the same time the outburst of lyric poetry was no less striking. The ability to write verse had become truly a necessary qualification for social success and even for political advancement. Great magnates surrounded themselves with a retinue of poets and men of letters who depended upon them for their support.

Don Francisco de Quevedo y Villegas, the central figure of our play, was one of the greatest personalities in this brilliant court. He was born in 1580. At barely twenty he left the University of Alcalá and plunged immediately into the life of the magnificently corrupt court of Philip III at Valladolid. When the capital was moved to Madrid in 1606 he had already won fame as a poet. The manuscripts of his satirical writings in prose and verse were eagerly sought and widely read. His thrusts were aimed at the ridiculous aspects of court life. His own indulgence in a career of thorough dissipation filled him with contempt for his wretched companions. Intimate association with men in high positions reached by either noble birth or corrupt influence made him familiar with the vices of Philip's government and with the ineffectiveness of the Spanish bureaucratic administration. In his "Sueños" (Visions) he satirized unsparingly men from all the walks of life. His attacks were at times mocking jeers at human weaknesses and at others outbursts of desperate fury against current injustice and stupidity.

After a short period of retirement from the capital he became the firm friend of Don Pedro Téllez Girón, Duke of Osuna, who had been named viceroy of Sicily in 1610. The uncommonly strong bond of friendship between these two men was founded upon mutual admiration of common qualities of fearlessness and red-blooded dash and spirit. In 1616 Quevedo followed Osuna to Naples, where he was of great service to him as adviser and confidential emissary. These years of semi-official activity brought Quevedo into the very midst of the tangle of politics involving France, Italy, and Spain, and above all into the bog of bureaucratic corruption. Osuna's business in Madrid with the prime minister, Lerma, was managed by Quevedo. Now Lerma and his creatures were amenable to reason only when accompanied by bribes. Access to him was denied to all who brought no gifts. Quevedo's disgust at these methods was boundless, but there was no avoiding them.[10] In recognition of his distinguished services Quevedo was made a knight of the order of St. James in 1618.[11]

In 1620 Osuna came to Madrid to answer the charge of having conspired to make himself independent viceroy of Naples. On his arrival he was thrown into prison, while Quevedo was held in custody at a distance from Madrid. Osuna died in 1624 before his guilt or innocence could be clearly proved. Quevedo afterward fought to clear his protector's name. At least he has secured his fame to posterity by the famous sonnet,

Faltar pudo su patria al grande Osuna,
Pero no a su defensa sus hazañas;
Diéronle muerte y carcel las Españas,
De quien el hizo esclava la Fortuna.
Lloraron sus invidias una a una
Con las propias naciones las extrañas;
Su tumba son de Flandes las campañas,
Y su epitafio la sangrienta luna.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


While Quevedo was enduring his enforced retirement Philip III died (March, 1621) and was succeeded by his son Philip IV. Uceda, the former's minister, was sent to follow his father Lerma into retirement and disgrace. Olivares, who had already won the confidence of young Philip, was installed as prime minister.

Superficial reforms by which Olivares signalized his arrival momentarily led Quevedo to hope for better things. He wrote to celebrate the wisdom of the new minister and to assure him of his loyalty. He was soon at liberty to enjoy the fame and wholesome respect that his political prominence and keen satire had won him. His enemies were numerous, but they dared not attack him. Olivares himself courted Quevedo, but the latter, grown discreet for the moment, lent his ear and not his heart: he could not give himself to a minister who was already beginning to show his unwillingness to go to the root of the evils that were ruining the country.

During these years of comparative political inactivity Quevedo had greater opportunity to study the vicious standards of living that stain this period of Spanish history. His writings are full of the scathing irony of his youth on the one hand, or of passionate religious fervor on the other. At other moments he indulges his tendency to seek refuge and comfort in the gentle stoicism of Seneca.