República Mista

República Mista (English: Mixed Republic) is a seven-part politics-related treatise from the Spanish Golden Age, authored by the Basque-Castilian nobleman, philosopher and statesman Tomás Fernández de Medrano, Lord of Valdeosera, of which only the first part was ever printed. Originally published in Madrid in 1602 and written in early modern Spanish and Latin, República Mista explores a doctrinal framework of governance rooted in a mixed political model that combines elements of monarchy, aristocracy, and timocracy. Structured as the first volume in a planned series of seven, the treatise examines three foundational precepts of governance—religion, obedience, and justice—rooted in ancient Roman philosophy and their application to contemporary governance. Within the mirrors for princes genre, Medrano emphasizes the moral and spiritual responsibilities of rulers, grounding his counsel in classical philosophy and historical precedent. República Mista is known for its detailed exploration of governance precepts.
The first volume of República Mista centers on the constitutive political roles of religion, obedience, and justice. Without naming him, it aligns with the anti-Machiavellian tradition by rejecting Machiavelli’s thesis that religion serves merely a strategic function; for Medrano, it is instead foundational to political order. Although only the first part was printed, República Mista significantly influenced early 17th-century conceptions of royal authority in Spain—most notably in Fray Juan de Salazar’s 1617 treatise, which embraced Medrano’s doctrine to justify absolute monarchy guided by virtue and reason, and subject to divine and natural law.
Tomás Fernández de Medrano's political philosophy, as presented in República Mista, centers on the integration of monarchy, aristocracy, and timocracy into a unified system of governance grounded in religious devotion. He argues that each regime type holds distinct virtues and corresponding dangers, but when carefully balanced within a "mixed republic," their respective strengths can counteract each other's vices. This hybrid model, he proposes, is best suited to promote justice, stability, and the common good.
His República Mista was conceived as an ambitious seven-part series, with each volume addressing three key precepts from the seven most flourishing republics in history. However, only the first volume was ever published. Medrano structures the first volume as a dialogue between King Ptolemy and ambassadors from seven classical republics, each presenting three key precepts of their governance. Medrano conveys his political doctrine through a fictional framework that recalls the style of old Spanish literature influenced by Arabic traditions, blending narrative with philosophical reflection.
Tomás clearly defined his original intent in the beginning of his treatise:
In the first and only printed volume, Medrano illustrates these precepts through scriptural references, historical examples, and contemporary models of leadership. From classical antiquity, he draws on thinkers such as Cicero, Tacitus, Plato, and Aristotle, whose reflections on governance, virtue, and justice underpin much of his analysis. Exemplary rulers including Lycurgus, Numa Pompilius, and Alexander the Great are invoked as models of wise and ethical leadership, while figures like Codrus and Aristides are cited for their self-sacrifice and devotion to justice.
Medrano also praises leaders of his own era—such as Pope Sixtus V, Pope Pius V, and Pope Gregory XIII—for their clemency, piety, and commitment to social order. He incorporates mythological references as well, using Deucalion to symbolize political renewal, Atlas to represent endurance and structure, and Bacchus as an emblem of communal joy and harmony.
Miguel Herrero García, in his introduction to Fray Juan de Salazar’s book, declares:
Nicolás Antonio unequivocally attributes the authorship of The Mixed Republic to Tomás Fernández de Medrano. This father-son collaboration is echoed in the Orazion Consotoria dedicated to Lord Carlo Emanuel, Duke of Savoy, with Tomás as the author and his son Juan responsible for its publication. Similarly, the funeral oration honoring the virtues of King Philip II is also credited to Tomás Fernández de Medrano.
According to the royal printing license issued by Philip III of Spain, Juan Fernández de Medrano y Sandoval discovered "a book titled A Treatise on Three Precepts by Which the Romans Were Better Governed" among the papers of his father, Tomás Fernández de Medrano. Miguel Herrero García asserts that the royal printing license "leaves no room for doubt" regarding Tomás Fernández de Medrano’s authorship. He argues that this was not simply a harmless literary device of the time, citing several points: Medrano was alive when the license was granted, the book contains multiple first-person accounts of events in Italy, it functions as a defense of the Dukes of Savoy—under whom Medrano served.
Tomás Fernández de Medrano used a chivalric and theatrical metaphor to explain why he initially wrote República Mista anonymously:
Born in Entrena, La Rioja, Tomás Fernández de Medrano of the influential House of Medrano held numerous civic, noble, and ecclesiastical titles. He served as Mayor, Chief Magistrate, Divisero, and Lord of Valdeosera, as well as a Knight of the Order of Saint John and Patron of the Convent of San Juan de Acre in Salinas de Añana. Medrano advised the monarchs of Spain and held high office abroad, including Secretary of State and War to Charles Emmanuel I, Duke of Savoy, and to Princess Catalina Micaela of Spain, daughter of Philip II. From 1579 to 1581, he served as secretary to Prince Giovanni Andrea Doria, and later spent eight years in Rome under Enrique de Guzmán, 2nd Count of Olivares. Under Philip III of Spain, he was appointed Secretary of the Holy Chapters and Assemblies of Castile, reflecting his continued role in both religious and political governance.
According to King Philip III of Spain in 1601:
Philip III of Spain (1598–1621), ruler of the Spanish Empire at the height of its power, nevertheless faced challenges in governance. In the first volume of the República Mista, titled On the Three Precepts that the Ambassador of the Romans Gave to King Ptolemy Regarding the Good Governance of His Republic, Medrano frames his treatise as a guide grounded in Roman political virtue. He writes, "to discuss the three precepts and the specific laws of governance by which the Roman Republic were best governed,"—a subtle invitation for Philip to measure his reign against these classical ideals. Religion, obedience, and justice, the three Roman precepts at the center of the work, serve as both a tribute to the Catholic monarchy and a call for reform.
Around 1607, a letter in the name of Tomás Fernández de Medrano indicates the book he wrote on the Republic (addressed to Francisco de Sandoval y Rojas, 1st Duke of Lerma), was pleasing to His Majesty Philip III of Spain:
Medrano's República Mista significantly influenced Philip III’s approach to kingship. His República Mista reinforced Madrid-Rome ties, and associated a religious foundation with the Spanish monarchy’s "greatness" and prestige.
While many modern historians regard Philip III of Spain as a weak and disengaged monarch, Medrano presents a strikingly different portrait in República Mista (1602)—that of a holy and prudent Christian king who embodies the strength of virtue over conquest. He presents Philip as just—entrusting governance to wise ministers and magistrates, resolving public grievances personally, and prioritizing peace over war. He praises Philip’s humility and restraint, contrasting him with rulers whose downfall stemmed from injustice and pride.
Anecdotes, such as the king requesting permission from a baker to pass through his home, illustrate Medrano’s view of divine kingship grounded in fairness. Even failed campaigns, like the expedition to Algiers or aid to Ireland, are defended as morally sound and strategically reasoned: “fortune nevertheless favors a well-laid plan.” Medrano commends Philip III for upholding the Inquisition, supporting the Church, and advancing the Gospel, concluding that without law, piety, and faith—as Seneca warned—no kingdom can endure.
In 1617, Medrano's doctrine is fully embraced by Fray Juan de Salazar in his attempt to define the Spanish monarchy. In the early 17th century, a strong royalist ideology emerged, asserting that the king was legibus solutus (not bound by laws) in civil matters—though still subject to divine and natural law. Phrases like scientia certa, motu proprio, and non obstante facilitated the development of absolute royal sovereignty, which was nevertheless distinguished from tyranny. This interpretation of royal power was so prevalent that República Mista (1602) by Tomás Fernández de Medrano explicitly defended unrestricted royal authority in civil affairs and outright rejected the notion that subjects had any right to resist, citing scriptural sources from 1 Samuel 8 to Jeremiah 27.
In his República Mista, Medrano further advised King Philip III that royal withdrawal from public view could be perceived "as a form of religion," comparing the king’s distance from his subjects to the veneration reserved for the Eucharist. In response to this vision, Philip III took the idea of royal inaccessibility even further than his father—restricting public access and delegating the management of audiences to the Duke of Lerma, reinforcing the king’s sacred distance. Medrano argued that what is rarely seen is more deeply revered, and that this deliberate isolation preserved the king’s idealized image by concealing potential flaws—thereby legitimizing the presence of a valido to act as his public and political representative.
Tomás Fernández de Medrano’s vision of kingship—rooted in sacred distance, obedience, and divine legitimacy—naturally called for a trusted intermediary to manage public affairs. In this context, the figure of the valido emerged not as a rival to the monarch, but as a functional extension of his will: a visible minister acting on behalf of an invisible king.
With the accession of Philip III in 1598, political literature increasingly turned its attention to the role of the valido. In República Mista (1602), Tomás Fernández de Medrano contributed to this discourse by defending the value of the valido through historical examples.
Amid growing criticism of the royal favorite during the early reign of Philip III, Tomás Fernández de Medrano offered a contrasting perspective in República Mista (1602). While many contemporary thinkers viewed the concentration of royal trust in a single individual as a threat to authority, Medrano, writing under the patronage of the Duke of Lerma, defended the political utility of the valido. He presented the figure of the valido not as a rival to the king, but as a necessary extension of royal governance—someone entrusted with distinct responsibilities that contributed to a more unified and effective administration.
While defending delegated royal authority, Medrano simultaneously denounces favoritism and the corruption of courtly life. He strongly criticizes nepotism, flattery, and the promotion of the unworthy, urging sovereigns to honor merit and uphold justice as a foundational precept of their authority.
Drawing on lesser-known figures such as Callisthenes, adviser to Alexander the Great, and Panaetius of Rhodes, companion to Scipio Aemilianus, Medrano argued that trusted confidants could serve not as threats to royal authority but as prudent and loyal counselors who strengthened effective governance. He observes the value of such counsel:
This vision of a prudent counselor did not end with Tomás Fernández de Medrano, Lord of Valdeosera. His great-nephew, Diego Fernández de Medrano y Zenizeros—Lord of Valdeosera and Sojuela; a nobleman, a presbyter, and chaplain to Luis Méndez de Haro—carried the ideological tradition forward in a later panegyric-treatise titled Heroic and Flying Fame of the Most Excellent Lord Don Luis Méndez de Haro, Count-Duke of Olivares. His work exalts Luis de Haro, nephew and successor of the Count-Duke of Olivares, as an exemplary valido whose conduct embodied wisdom, restraint, and Christian virtue.
His great-nephew's panegyric to Haro, together with his political treatise Mirror of Princes: Crucible of their Virtues, Astonishment of their Failings, Soul of their Government and Government of their Soul, stands as both a reaffirmation and culmination of the doctrine first articulated in República Mista, reinforcing the Medrano family’s enduring influence in shaping early modern political philosophy and the theory and practice of royal delegation during the height of Spanish Habsburg rule.
Diego Fernández de Medrano’s dedication of Mirror of Princes to the infant Philip Prospero affirms the continuity of Medrano doctrine—political authority grounded in Christian truth and guided by reason and virtue. Continuing the legacy of his great-uncle Tomás Fernández de Medrano, Diego presents his treatise as "a mirror to all kings, princes, and great men," meant "to guide them in virtue... Let them see their image—and rise."
República Mista has received sustained scholarly interest, from its favorable reception under Philip III to modern analysis, with Miguel Herrero García expanding on the king’s summary through a detailed examination of the work’s structure and classical foundations:
In a more recent critical study, María López-Asiain offers a political analysis of República Mista, situating it firmly within the political traditions of early 17th-century Spain. According to María López-Asiain, República Mista (1602) by Tomás Fernández de Medrano did not challenge the legitimacy of monarchical sovereignty, which he assumed as a given. His interest lay in the practical workings of monarchical government, which he believed required the obedience of subjects, respect for religion, and strong royal authority. This authority, he argued, could legitimately include reliance on a trusted favorite—"a friend as a faithful servant"—to whom certain powers might be delegated. Medrano described two types of public power: one absolute and unrestricted by law, and the other legitimate but limited, granted temporarily through commission.
Despite its title, the treatise did not advocate for a constitutional or limited monarchy. Instead, Medrano defended an absolutist vision of royal authority, presenting the role of the favorite not as a threat but as a functional extension of the sovereign’s will. His model of a 'mixed monarchy' was ultimately one of undivided sovereignty with executive functions delegated to a powerful minister—specifically, the Duke of Lerma. While Medrano acknowledged that such a figure should act within the bounds of the law and under the prince’s authority, in practice, he was describing the very real and informal dominance that favorites like Lerma exercised in early 17th-century Spain.
Tomás Fernández de Medrano’s República Mista "offers a forceful rebuttal to Machiavelli’s politics," presenting a spirited defense of the system of the valido that emerged with the rise of Philip III. The work is openly dedicated to Francisco de Sandoval y Rojas, 1st Duke of Lerma—the first great valido—as its patron, dated 22 August 1601.
The dedication uses metaphor and political allegory to elevate the Duke of Lerma as the divinely chosen steward of the monarchy. Medrano's son, Juan Fernández de Medrano y Sandoval, addresses the Duke as follows:
In the preface, titled Princes, Subjects, Ministers, Medrano references ambassadors from various ancient states to introduce precepts essential for maintaining a strong and enduring republic. Medrano sought to unify twenty-one precepts to showcase the diverse yet essential precepts underlying effective statecraft. Medrano describes:
Medrano concludes that if these customs were upheld in a state, it would maintain its greatness for a long time. He encourages a deep study and thoughtful application of these precepts, integrating lessons from both sacred texts and historical accounts to guide governance and societal harmony.
República Mista begins with a foundational 16-page prologue, establishing Medrano’s vision of governance through history, philosophy, and divine law. Antonio de Herrera y Tordesillas, historian to Philip III, recognized its importance, advising the king that it was essential to understanding the work. The prologue explores the foundations of politics and society, including the progression from family to municipality, province, and kingdom. Medrano defines politics as "the soul of the city," equating its role to prudence within the human body, as it "directs all decisions, preserves all benefits, and wards off all harms." This opening lays a conceptual framework for understanding the intricate balance of governance within a mixed republic. Focusing on the three essential pillars of religion, obedience, and justice, Medrano writes:
Building on this conceptual framework, Medrano introduces three virtuous forms of government—monarchy, aristocracy, and timocracy—contrasting them with their corrupt counterparts: tyranny, oligarchy, and democracy in its degraded form.
He explains that each virtuous form serves the public good, while the corrupt forms devolve into self-serving rule. By presenting these three opposites, Medrano reveals the need for a mixed republic that blends monarchy, aristocracy, and timocracy, creating a governance structure capable of resisting the vices of each individual system.
Drawing on historical and philosophical examples, Medrano demonstrates how this balance fosters societal harmony and stability while avoiding the pitfalls of purely singular forms of government. He argues that each system degenerates when it loses its foundational virtues and becomes consumed by selfishness or disarray. In chapter three of República Mista, on justice, he writes:
Medrano views monarchy as the most natural and cohesive form of governance. A single ruler, he argues, provides unity and decisiveness, ensuring that decisions are made in the interest of the entire state. He draws on philosophical reasoning, quoting Aristotle’s assertion that "a multitude of rulers is not good," and emphasizes that a virtuous monarch must prioritize the public good over personal gain. However, Medrano warns of monarchy’s potential to devolve into tyranny if power becomes unchecked or if rulers lack moral integrity. Medrano identifies monarchy as the closest reflection of divine governance, citing the singularity of God as the ideal for unity and authority:
A monarch, he argues, must emulate divine virtues, prioritizing the common good over personal desires. Medrano warns, however, that monarchy can devolve into tyranny if the ruler strays from these virtues, emphasizing the need for piety and humility to align earthly authority with divine will. Regarding tyranny, he states, "A tyrant governs not for the people, but for his own desires, treating the state as his possession rather than a sacred trust." Tyranny arises when a monarch abandons justice and piety, becoming an oppressor rather than a protector.
Aristocracy, the governance by the virtuous elite, is extolled by Medrano for its focus on wisdom, experience, and the common good. He presents historical examples like the governance of Sparta, which achieved remarkable longevity and stability through a carefully structured aristocratic system. Medrano acknowledges that aristocracy is most effective when it selects leaders based on merit rather than privilege, but he cautions against its corruption into oligarchy, where power serves a narrow, self-serving minority. In aristocracy, Medrano sees the potential for collective wisdom and virtue to govern effectively. He compares the selection of aristocratic leaders to the idea of God entrusting His divine work to angels, revealing the importance of moral integrity and expertise:
Medrano acknowledges that aristocracy risks corruption into oligarchy if power is used for selfish ends rather than the public good. Such a system exploits the many for the benefit of the few, undermining the harmony of the state. He necessitates a divine moral framework to guide these leaders. Oligarchy, Medrano contends, is the result of aristocracy corrupted by greed and self-interest, stating that:
Timocracy, which Medrano defines as governance by individuals of moderate wealth and merit, occupies a middle ground between monarchy and aristocracy. Drawing on Aristotle’s insights, Medrano notes that this form of governance ensures that neither extreme wealth nor poverty dominates, fostering a more equitable society. However, timocracy is vulnerable to instability when personal interests outweigh collective responsibility. Medrano regards timocracy as a governance system rooted in moderation and equity, drawing parallels to God’s justice in rewarding virtue and punishing vice. He writes:
This form of government relies on individuals with sufficient means and merit to serve the public interest without succumbing to greed. Medrano warns, however, that without divine principles to temper human ambition, timocracy can degenerate into chaos or selfish governance. Timocracy's opposite, Democracy, which he calls "a depraved form of republic," while acknowledging its appeal to liberty, is described as unstable and prone to excess. Medrano writes:
Medrano warns that unchecked democracy, though appealing in its promise of liberty, can easily descend into mob rule (ochlocracy), where fleeting passions overpower reason and governance becomes erratic.
Tomás Fernández de Medrano’s vision culminates in the concept of a mixed republic, where the strengths of monarchy, aristocracy, and timocracy are interwoven to create a balanced and enduring system. Thus, for Medrano, only a divinely guided mixed republic can sustain lasting stability, equity, and justice—anchoring human governance in the civil, natural and divine laws of God:
He praises historical examples like the Roman Republic, which successfully blended these elements to achieve remarkable governance. "Republics that integrate the virtues of multiple systems of government," Medrano argues, "achieve a balance that guards against the excesses of any single form." For Medrano, power must always be tempered with virtue. He advocates for a governance structure that unites the authority of monarchy, the wisdom of aristocracy, and the equity of timocracy, ensuring that justice, stability, and prosperity endure.
At the core of his doctrinal framework lies a divine principle: just as God’s singularity is absolute, so too must governance uphold unity, justice, and moral accountability. Thus, Medrano asserts, true leadership requires a reflection of divine virtues. Authority must not be wielded arbitrarily but must align with God’s justice, shaping a government that is not only permissible but enduring. He writes:
The first chapter of República Mista, which begins on page 17, establishes religion as the cornerstone of governance and societal harmony:
In the religion chapter of Republica Mista, Tomás Fernández de Medrano argues that religion is the essential foundation of all civil governance. He draws from natural philosophy to show that everything—from celestial bodies to human societies—follows a divine order, stating: "This entire lower world obeys the higher, governed by it as a secondary cause."
Medrano insists that even the most isolated or undeveloped societies possess "some specific order, arrangement, and agreement... and some awareness of the divine," noting that no people exist without customs, laws, or spiritual practices. He sees this universal inclination toward religion as evidence of its necessity in human affairs.
Citing Plutarch, he writes: "A city might sooner do without the sun... than without some establishment of law or belief that God exists and upholds creation." He connects divine justice and human governance as inseparable, arguing that "one cannot exist among men without the other."
For Medrano, religion precedes and enables laws, obedience, justice, and the cohesion of republics. He praises ancient lawmakers—Lycurgus, Numa Pompilius, Solon, and others—for instilling reverence for the divine, noting that fear and hope in the gods secured social order and civic duty.
He echoes Aristotle in asserting that religion is natural to mankind and vital to leadership: "It is necessary that the prince... be esteemed as religious... for subjects more easily endure hardship when they believe rulers have the gods on their side."
Medrano surveys religious practices across cultures—from Egyptian sacrifices to Phoenician sky worship—to show that "all are moved by religion," quoting Cicero: "They believe that they must diligently worship and uphold the ancestral gods."
He also recounts Roman reverence for the divine, quoting Cicero and Virgil to highlight how "piety preserved the republic." In contrast, Medrano laments that when the Athenians, under the influence of skeptics like Protagoras and Diagoras, "began to show contempt for God and His ministers," their republic declined. The rise and fall of states correlate directly with the respect shown to religion and its institutions, warning: "No fault is greater than that of one who does not know God."
In Republica Mista, Tomás Fernández de Medrano emphasizes that the prosperity and stability of monarchies are deeply tied to fidelity to their faith and their reverence for religious authority. He credits the expansion of the Spanish monarchy to the devoutness of its rulers, writing that since they "began to enjoy the special protection of the Holy Apostolic See," they have prospered by "persecuting the enemies of our holy faith." He recounts the story of King Alfonso the Chaste, whose devotion led to divine miracles—such as the appearance of angels crafting a jeweled cross—which affirmed Spain’s sanctified imperial mission.
In contrast, Medrano attributes the decline of France and England to their betrayal of religious fidelity: "By scorning the Apostolic See, the supreme pontiffs, and the Catholic faith," the English monarchy brought ruin not only to itself but also to Scotland and other allied nations.
He describes the sacredness of religious spaces, citing Theodosius and Valentinian’s decree that "those who forcibly remove anyone seeking refuge in the church should be punished with death," affirming that "one should be safer under the protection of religion than under arms."
Throughout, Medrano insists that true political order rests on respect for divine law, warning against rulers who disguise ambition with false sanctity. "Nothing is more deceptively attractive than false religion," he quotes Livy, "where the divine power of the gods is pretended to cover wickedness." He condemns the use of religion to justify factionalism and civil war, invoking the chaos caused by false prophets and reformers across Europe.
Medrano praises historical examples like Numa Pompilius, who instilled fear of God into a warlike people, showing that "if such a religious prince had not succeeded Romulus, the Roman people would have become uncontrollable and violent." A prince, he argues, must be "truthful and perceived as truthful," since "no power gained by crime is enduring."
He acknowledges that rulers may need to practice discretion in politics, but always within bounds: "Nothing must be done against faith, charity, humanity, or religion." The prince’s word, once given, should be as unbreakable as divine law: "His word should be as true, certain, constant, and reliable as the word of God."
Medrano warns that "God despises those who are false and deceitful," and sees the rise of corrupt rulers as divine punishment: "The Holy Spirit will make a hypocrite ruler as punishment for the sins of the people." Ultimately, he argues, religion is not merely personal but foundational to legitimate rule, and any governance that opposes it is destined to fail.
In Republica Mista, Tomás Fernández de Medrano recounts a powerful oration delivered by Charles Emmanuel I, Duke of Savoy, to the people of Thonon and surrounding territories, urging their return to the Catholic faith. The Duke appeals to religious tradition and loyalty, asking: "If the lord has the authority to command his vassals… how much more so in matters that serve [God], glorify Him, and are for your own good?" He reminds them of their six-hundred-year history under Catholic rule and laments their departure into heresy, "living as heretics, though they claim the name of Christians." Appealing to history, doctrine, and royal duty, he urged his subjects to reject false religions and remain loyal to the Church of Rome, warning that religious division undermines both faith and sovereignty. He invoked ancestral loyalty, the sanctity of the sacraments, and the divine role of Catholic monarchs to defend orthodoxy and civil peace.
With this declaration, the Duke of Savoy aligned his rule with divine order, asserting that those who abandon the Catholic faith ally themselves with disorder, sedition, and spiritual death. His words sparked widespread repentance, restoring allegiance among towns, nobles, and clerics across the region.
The oration denounces sectarianism and warns of the civil disorder it causes, citing examples such as Münster, La Rochelle, and Geneva, which became "fortresses of the devil within Christendom." The Duke emphasizes that a prince who does not preserve the Catholic faith cannot expect to retain true sovereignty: "If the Catholic religion is not protected… it will be all too easy for another to take its place." He invokes historical and biblical authorities to reinforce that rulers must serve and uphold divine law to maintain peace and legitimacy.
Medrano, witnessing the Duke’s address, affirms its transformative power: "This had such an impact on the minds of everyone that all begged for mercy." He praises the Duke’s personal piety, military rituals, and protection of religious institutions, presenting him as an ideal Catholic ruler who embodies Cicero’s maxim: "In every republic, the first care is for divine matters."
The oration serves in Medrano’s work as a living example of the harmony between political power and religious devotion—where kings are not only temporal rulers but also defenders and nurturers of the faith.
In Republica Mista, Tomás Fernández de Medrano contrasts genuine religious devotion with the dangers of superstition and false belief. He praises figures like Francisco de Sandoval, Duke of Lerma, who, despite his immense power, invested in sacred architecture and remained mindful of mortality. When advised to act militarily against foreign alliances, Lerma replied that Spain’s strength lay in having "a very Catholic king, a true friend of God," whose faith alone could secure divine protection.
Medrano also highlights the zeal of Charles Emmanuel I of Savoy, who instructed his secretary to prioritize any matter that served both God and the king—regarding them as one and the same. These leaders, Medrano suggests, exemplify the ideal union of power and piety.
He presents historical examples—from the Hebrews who defied Emperor Caligula, to Christian martyrs, and even pagan figures like Calanus the Indian philosopher—to show the enduring strength of belief. Even misguided religions, he argues, have inspired profound sacrifice: "Nothing rules the masses more effectively than superstition," he quotes Quintus Curtius, warning that uneducated people are particularly vulnerable to false wonders and omens.
For Medrano, true religion must be distinguished from superstition and astrology, which he condemns as deceitful distractions. Superstition, he says, is "empty appearance and false imagination," and leads people away from divine truth. He denounces judicial astrologers for misleading the public, undermining reason and faith alike. Citing authorities like Pico della Mirandola, Aquinas, and Varro, he warns that only through proper reverence and obedience to divine law can virtue, faith, and courage be sustained.
In the Religion chapter of República Mista, Tomás Fernández de Medrano presents Patria (love and service to one's homeland) as a sacred duty, rooted in natural affection, divine law, and moral conscience. Drawing on ancient and biblical examples, he argues that "every person is obligated to serve and aid the public good... for within its welfare lie the life, honor, and prosperity of each individual."
Medrano recounts the story of Nehemiah, who was moved to tears upon hearing of Jerusalem’s desolation and was granted royal support to rebuild his city. He cites Cicero, who said: "All affections are encompassed in our homeland, for which any noble person would seek death if it would be beneficial." Examples such as Cato the Younger, who resisted unjust laws and rejected political alliances that compromised the Republic, show that true loyalty lies in justice and conscience: "Our conscience and the immortal gods are given to us, and they cannot be separated from us."
The chapter continues with patriotic acts across history: El Cid, despite exile, served Castile with valor; Juan Mendez of Évora opposed unjust taxation and was later vindicated by the king; and Lycurgus bound Sparta to his laws even after death. Medrano also recalls Codrus, who gave his life to ensure Athens’ survival, asserting that "to die for virtue is no death at all."
He praises Spain’s Catholic monarchs for defending the faith, founding churches, and extending the Gospel to distant lands. In particular, he honors Philip III for upholding the Inquisition as a "mighty shield and sacred institution." Medrano concludes that the strength of a kingdom depends on its moral and spiritual foundations, quoting Seneca: "Where there is no regard for law, holiness, piety, and faith, the kingdom is unstable."
Ultimately, he argues that good governance aligns with religious principles, embodying truth and virtue to earn the people’s trust and God’s favor, as only He bestows and withdraws power: "The Lord changes the times and seasons; He raises and deposes kings," quoting Daniel 4.
Before the second chapter of República Mista, Medrano begins with an introduction on obedience, and a meditation on the necessity of obedience for both spiritual life and civil harmony. Medrano opens by quoting Seneca: "Our minds, like noble and generous horses, are better governed with a light rein." He asserts that if even the ancient Persians taught their children to "love, obey, and revere their princes and magistrates," then Christians should not neglect what even pagans held as sacred.
He argues that the strength of the Roman Republic rested on this precept, and that Christians, called to serve and revere God, must likewise obey their earthly rulers. Obedience to Kings, Councils, and Magistrates, he writes, flows naturally from the teachings of the fourth commandment and should be instilled from the earliest age. This doctrine, Medrano observes, is deeply rooted in Spanish tradition and serves both as a reminder to the wise and a guide to the unknowing. He closes the introduction with a pointed reflection: "To give counsel to a fool is an act of charity; to give it to the wise, one of honor; but to offer it in times of depravity, an act of wisdom."
The second chapter of República Mista, which begins on page 69, elaborates on the importance of obedience to princes and magistrates as a safeguard against disorder and rebellion. Medrano states:
Quoting Erasmus, Medrano affirms: "To command and to obey are two things that keep sedition away from citizens and ensure concord." He compares a well-ordered kingdom to a body where the ruler is the head and the law its soul, insisting that "where obedience is lacking, order is lost, and disorder takes its place."
Medrano recounts that Sparta’s success was not due to the wisdom of its rulers, but because "the citizens knew how to obey." He argues that Spanish unity and prosperity result from a careful balance of powers—ensuring that neither nobility nor commoners dominate—sustained by reverence for public officials as "men placed there by the hand of God."
He stresses that kings must be honored as God's representatives, with respect extended also to their ministers and councils. "This authority," he writes, "is the true source of their greatness... achieved not through intelligence, but through honoring the king and the realm."
Drawing heavily on sacred Scripture, Medrano cites Romans 13, Titus 3, and 1 Peter 2, reinforcing that "there is no power but from God," and that resisting rulers is resisting divine order. Subjects must obey not out of fear alone, but "for conscience' sake." As Tacitus writes, "There can be no peace without arms, no arms without pay, and no pay without taxes." He adds, "Render tribute to whom tribute is due... honor to whom honor."
Medrano also reflects on the burdens of rulership, writing: "While we sleep, they remain vigilant... they carry the weight of countless souls under their dominion." He quotes Seleucus: "If one truly knew the weight of a scepter, they would not have the courage to pick it up."
He warns against slandering magistrates, stating that "no one should judge the actions of Councillors... but the Prince himself," and praises emperors like Augustus and Vespasian for the honors they showed to senators. Vespasian declared: "I can respond to the injuries they commit, but [subjects] are not allowed to speak ill of them." He asserts that obedience, respect, and prayer for rulers are not only civic duties but sacred obligations that sustain both peace and divine order.
Medrano expands the concept of obedience to include reverence for the ministers and servants of kings, particularly those close to court. He affirms the high dignity historically granted to officers such as the Reyes de Armas (Kings of Arms), describing their role as "a profession akin to the heroic," with privileges dating back to Bacchus, Alexander the Great, Augustus, and Charlemagne. These included safe passage, exemption from common duties, the authority to judge dishonor, and the honor of wearing royal insignia. Such prerogatives, he argues, show that even humble servants of the king "are invested with mysteries," and should be respected accordingly. Medrano writes:
Medrano cautions private individuals against interfering in public governance, stating that reform must come through proper authority. "No public display should be made," he writes, advising that concerns be directed to lawful superiors. Those who carry out the will of the prince, he says, "are his hands," and as such, are owed honor and obedience.
Quoting Plautus—"What a king does should be considered honorable; it is the duty of subjects to obey"—he defends rulers against misjudgment by the ignorant, stating that "what is done piously by the good is often judged as cruelty by the wicked." Empire, he writes, brings envy and misunderstanding, and "the reward... is to be maligned." Yet true rulers focus on justice and the common good, trusting that over time, their deeds will be recognized.
He contrasts the harsh Locrian law—where lawmakers faced execution for failed proposals—with Mecenas’s advice to Augustus: "Praise and honor those who offer sound counsel... but neither disgrace nor accuse those who err." Moderation and prudence, Medrano insists, are essential in courtly matters.
He praises those counselors who temper princes’ passions and offer discreet, virtuous guidance. "No wise and great prince has ever lacked a trusted confidant," he writes, naming Calisthenes, Panaetius, and others who brought wisdom and glory to their rulers. When such figures possess noble lineage, wisdom, and piety, they serve as "a model worthy of admiration and emulation."
In República Mista, Tomás Fernández de Medrano distinguishes between two types of authority: one supreme and absolute—answerable only to God—and the other subordinate and bound by law, exercised by magistrates for a limited time under royal commission. The supreme prince, he writes, "acknowledges none greater than himself (after God)," and magistrates derive their authority from him and remain subject to his laws.
Medrano affirms that individuals must obey these powers in all matters not contrary to divine or natural law, even when commands seem unjust: "They should not judge their judges." The supreme magistrate is likened to "a father to the kingdom," tasked with maintaining peace, justice, and the common good.
He warns, however, of the widespread aversion to tyrants and the ease with which rulers who lack visible virtue may fall into contempt. Yet Scripture teaches obedience even to corrupt rulers, as they act as "instruments of [God’s] wrath, punishing the people’s wickedness." He quotes, "When God is angered, the people receive such a ruler as they deserve for their sins."
Citing Tacitus and Augustine, Medrano illustrates how power can corrupt even the seemingly virtuous. Tiberius, Nero, and Galba are presented as cautionary examples—men who ruled poorly despite early promise. "Things feigned cannot last long," Augustine warns.
Flattery, more than open enemies, is seen as the chief corrupter of rulers. Those "who make it a habit to praise all things in their rulers, be they virtuous or vicious," erode truth and judgment. Tiberius lamented: "Oh, men prepared for servitude!" Medrano recounts how Caesar, influenced by a flatterer, "came to a miserable end."
He writes: "Flattery has overthrown more than the enemy," criticizing courtiers who, instead of offering honest counsel, enable a prince’s whims to serve their own gain.
In República Mista, Tomás Fernández de Medrano contends that obedience and reverence are due to all rulers, whether just or unjust. "Let the good not be scandalized to see the wicked exalted," he writes, asserting that the rise and fall of kings is governed by divine providence. Drawing on Daniel 4, he declares: "The Most High is sovereign over the kingdoms of men… and sets over them the lowliest of men," emphasizing that even seemingly unworthy rulers are chosen by God for a purpose.
Medrano cites the example of Nebuchadnezzar, whom God rewarded with Egypt despite his tyranny, and King Amasis of Egypt, who overcame public contempt for his humble origins through strength and wisdom. From 1 Samuel 8 to Jeremiah 27, Medrano presents biblical arguments for unconditional obedience: "I have handed over all these lands to my servant Nebuchadnezzar... all nations will serve him." He urges subjects to trust that God raises kings not only to reward the good but also to punish the wicked: "When God is angered, the people receive such a ruler as they deserve for their sins."
He praises the historical patience of Christians under pagan and heretical rulers such as Nero, Julian the Apostate, and Diocletian, highlighting their peaceable endurance. Even David refused to harm King Saul, affirming: "Who can lay a hand upon the Lord’s anointed and be guiltless?" Medrano cites both religious and legal prohibitions against cursing rulers, warning that murmuring against authority invites divine judgment.
The duty of a good subject, he insists, is to remain "humble, gracious, obedient, and devout," without aspiring beyond their station. Those who suffer under harsh rule should interpret it as a correction from God: "I will give you a king in my anger" (Hosea), and endure it with prayer and patience, trusting that "He who wounds also heals."
Medrano explains that rulers hold Regalia—symbols of sovereign authority—which entitle them to create and enforce laws over all subjects. These Regalia are expressed through eight primary points, which, when properly observed in practice, ensure public obedience and preserve the order and stability of the realm.
In República Mista, Tomás Fernández de Medrano outlines eight primary prerogatives, or Regalia, that define sovereign power:
He argues that rulers may exercise these powers directly or through delegated ministers and must not be disrespected—even when their administration is imperfect. Their authority, Medrano states, is divinely instituted and must be regarded as sacred: "Established by God through countless decrees and testimonies, this authority ought to be respected and held as a source of majesty."
Subjects, he asserts, should not scheme against their superiors or question their actions. Public calamities—such as famine, plague, or war—should not be attributed to rulers without clear evidence. "One is not to be condemned if their thoughts are not laid bare," he quotes, warning against judging secret intentions or mistaking natural events for political failure.
Medrano uses the example of the Spanish expedition to Algiers and aid to Ireland under Philip III to illustrate that outcomes do not define the virtue or wisdom of political leadership: "Even if events turn out differently, fortune nevertheless favors a well-laid plan." He reflects on the unjust standards of warfare: "All claim success in prosperity, while adversity is attributed to others."
Medrano reaffirms that discretion, obedience, and reverence are owed not only in action but in speech and silence. Drawing on the example of Otho, he writes: "Tam nescire quædam milites, quam facere oportet"—"It is as necessary for soldiers to be ignorant of certain things as it is for them to carry out their duties." Just as commanders do not divulge all plans to their soldiers—who face constant danger—private citizens, even less so, should seek to uncover the secret intentions of princes.
Echoing Seneca’s wisdom—"Qui plus scire velle quam satis sit; intemperantiæ genus est" ("To wish to know more than is sufficient is a kind of excess")—Medrano argues that excessive curiosity disrupts peace and loyalty. Silence and obedience are therefore "powerful means of attaining peace," reminding subjects that this world is not their final home:
All monarchies, no matter how great, are mortal. "Everything must have its limit; who can claim immortality under heaven?" Medrano urges prayer for the long reign of Philip III, whom he praises in a litany of virtues:
Tacitus’s wisdom—"Semper alicui potentium invisus, non culpa, sed ut flagitiorum impatiens" ("He who is hated by the powerful is not guilty, but impatient of their crimes")—guides Medrano’s counsel: those who cannot tolerate injustice may find themselves resented at court and should avoid its intrigues for a more peaceful life. "It is very dangerous to skin a lion."
He lauds princes who, like Alexander the Great, refused to punish those who insulted them, choosing to live virtuously and correct falsehood with example. "Posterity, and a glorious remembrance of oneself, well deserved," Tacitus wrote—Medrano holds this as the supreme goal of princely rule.
He cites Emperor Theodosius, who refused to punish those who insulted the government, urging compassion even toward malice, and commanding that no judge act unless ordered by the emperor himself. As Lipsius warned, "Not all rulers are Alexanders." Yet the best defense against criticism is to give the people no reason to murmur. "The one who disregards fame clearly values virtue lightly."
He quotes Solomon: "Nomen impiorum putrescet"—"The name of the wicked will rot." Writers may not harm rulers in life, but they tarnish them in memory. Medrano concludes with Tacitus: "False honor helps, and false infamy terrifies. Believe us to be just as our reputation is." Ultimately, Medrano intertwines theological and philosophical principles to argue that obedience is divinely ordained.
The third chapter of República Mista, which begins on page 111, titled On the Third Point of the Roman Ambassador, explores the fundamental role of justice in sustaining a republic. Medrano opens with Erasmus' maxim, "Respublica, duabus rebus continetur praemio, poena"—"A republic is held together by two things: reward and punishment." Medrano begins his third chapter as follow:
Medrano praises justice as the queen of virtues, referencing Cicero:
Justice, Medrano argues, is both divine and societal: the "bond of human society" and the principle that distinguishes good from evil. Without it, confusion and vice prevail: "To reward evil in place of good, to oppress the good without punishing the wicked—this is to confuse vice with virtue." Justice, he writes, reveals "the distinction between the good and the bad," serving as both divine law and the "bond of human society."
Drawing on classical authorities, he defines justice as inseparable from wisdom. Plato teaches that no state can endure without justice and divine counsel. Aristotle calls it a "general virtue," containing all others, and Solomon asks God for wisdom alone, recognizing that "there can be no justice without prudence." Medrano calls prudence "a firm pillar, strong foundation, and sure guide of all a prince’s enterprises."
Justice requires temperance, courage, and charity. A just ruler must resist ambition and passion, and defend the oppressed even at personal cost. "Justice instills strength and courage," allowing the ruler to approach "the divine nature." Medrano insists that faith depends on justice, warning that without it, power is reduced to mere force. He condemns those political theorists who advocate: "Neglect all that is right and good so long as it may grow their power."
Medrano draws on Cicero again to define justice as "the constant and perpetual will to give each their due." It is the duty of princes, magistrates, and counselors to uphold this principle impartially. Diogenes called justice the source of "peace and perpetual happiness," while Hesiod described it as a "chaste, venerable virgin," and Pindar as "the queen of the world." Pythagoras, more enigmatically, wrote: "The balance never tips."
For Medrano, justice must transcend kinship, wealth, or personal benefit. Citing Plato, he writes: "Justice requires that we set aside personal pleasures and private benefits to embrace the public good, even to our detriment." He writes that wherever doubt enters judgment, injustice is near—for true equity, by nature, is "clear and resplendent."
Medrano follows classical philosophers in dividing justice into two principal forms:
Medrano differentiates between distributive and commutative justice—the former concerning the allocation of honor or punishment, and the latter governing fairness in contracts and exchanges. Justice is portrayed as the "mother of virtues," nourishing temperance, moderation, courage, and wisdom. Even pirates and thieves, Medrano notes, rely on some version of justice among themselves, as Cicero observed.
He calls attention to scriptural commands for justice, such as Jeremiah’s exhortation: "Render justice and righteousness; deliver the oppressed from the hand of the oppressor." Without justice, neither household nor republic can endure. "If in it there are no rewards for right deeds nor punishments for wrongs," he warns, "then divine order itself is absent."
Justice, he asserts, exists to preserve human society. It is "guardian of the laws, defender of the good, mortal enemy of the wicked," and so essential to civilization that even criminals must rely on it in part. "Even pirates and highway robbers," Medrano echoes Cicero, "could not exist without some part of it."
Drawing on Pythagorean thought, Medrano states that justice should be "regarded as the mother from whose breast all other virtues are nourished," as no one could be temperate, moderate, courageous, or wise without it.
He presents justice as a reflection of divine providence: "governing the world and ruling over all things." Its influence extends to every domain—"in cities, justice is equity and peace; in households, it is the harmony between husband and wife; between masters and servants, it is goodwill; in the body, it is health and the perfection of each part." For Medrano, justice is not only foundational to republics, but to all relationships, virtues, and divine order.
Tomás Fernández de Medrano explores justice as the sustaining force of a republic, the principle that binds society together through reward and punishment.
Drawing from classical authorities—Plato, Aristotle, Isidore, Solomon—Medrano presents justice as inseparable from wisdom and prudence, without which no kingdom or republic can be stable. "There can be no justice without prudence," he echoes, underscoring that wise governance begins with self-governance.
He emphasizes temperance and courage as supports to justice, stating it helps moderate passions such as ambition, anger, and avarice. Medrano ties justice to faith itself, warning that if not upheld, "faith would lose its legitimacy," and power would become a prize for the most unscrupulous. He denounces power-centric political theories: "They should neglect all that is right and good so long as it may grow their power."
Quoting Cicero again, he defines justice as: "Iustitia est constans, perpetua voluntas ius suum unicuique tribuens"—"Justice is the constant and perpetual will to give each their due." True princes, he writes, are those who do good to all under their care and harm no one.
The ancients’ reverence for justice is showcased in stories of Egyptian judges depicted blindfolded and handless, symbols of impartiality, and of Trajan, who told a governor, "Use this sword for me if I rule justly—and against me if I do not." Medrano rebukes skepticism toward Spanish heritage and traditions—such as the legacy of Apostle James or the deeds of El Cid—as impious and divisive.
Justice, he writes, must be free of personal bias, and magistrates must resist favoritism or vengeance. Examples from antiquity—Aristides the Just, Pope Sixtus V, and Emperor Hadrian—highlight rulers who prioritized truth over grudge, and mercy over retribution.
He praises princes who rise above resentment, noting, "To refrain from doing good when able is to surrender one’s virtue." Anger, he says, destroys sound judgment: "Where there is anger, nothing is done rightly."
Historical exemplars—Scipio Africanus, Philip of Macedonia, Vespasian, Alexander Severus—are cited for their dedication to fair judgment, humility, and even humor in justice. Medrano celebrates how these figures used their authority to defend integrity, rather than inflate it.
He references a lesson from Sparta: "The republic thrived under laws and magistrates who upheld them." True greatness, Medrano asserts, lies not in titles but in virtue, and justice remains the defining mark of legitimate rule.
Medrano expounds upon the inseparable relationship between justice, noble virtue, and the preservation of republics. Law, he argues, is the very "rule of justice," and justice its purpose. Without it, states decay: "The law is the soul of the republic, the blood that gives it life, and the rule that sustains the state." A republic nears ruin when "those condemned by law are pardoned, and judgments are reversed."
Medrano provides historical examples—from the downfall of Philip of Macedonia and the exile of Demetrius, to the deposition of the Swedish king Henry—as evidence that denial of justice breeds discord, abandonment, and collapse. In contrast, acts of humility and fairness, such as King Philip III requesting permission from a baker to pass through his home, exemplify the sanctity of justice and divine kingship.
He warns that appointing unworthy individuals—particularly through the sale of offices—invites divine wrath and civil decline. "The fault lies with rulers who… place corrupt judges over the faithful," he writes, echoing the Sorbonne’s admonition to King Francis II, denouncing the sale of ecclesiastical and secular offices as a betrayal of virtue and a root of religious schism.
Quoting both Titelman and a celebrated philosopher, Medrano laments that in his day, nobility is prized above merit: "Even the ignorant and the depraved [are considered] suitable for every office, whether civil or ecclesiastical… a misfortune within the Holy Church… that no amount of tears could rightly mourn."
Medrano defends true nobility as rooted in virtue, not lineage alone. To honor the corrupt sons of noble fathers is, he argues, to shame the ancestors themselves. He invokes the words of Mattathias: "Be zealous for the law and give your lives for the testament of your fathers," reminding nobles of their duty to emulate their forebears. Nobility, then, is not a privilege but a responsibility: "If there is anything good in nobility, it is that it places a certain necessity upon nobles to imitate their predecessors."
For Medrano, it is essential that princes honor virtue in both nobility and commoners, appointing those with merit, not wealth or flattery. To do otherwise, he warns, is to provoke the wrath of the loyal and suffer "great losses in matters of importance." He praises contemporary Spain as a model, where "distinguished and grave personages… occupy the offices" and uphold the republic through virtue and example.
Quoting the Partidas, he writes: "To know how to use nobility is a clear union of virtues… kings should greatly honor [knights and nobles], as those with whom they are to accomplish their work."
Rejecting favoritism and courtly corruption, Medrano offers examples of just rulers such as Trajan, Augustus, Pope Sixtus V, and Philip III, who all practiced restraint, impartiality, and forgiveness. He condemns nepotism, flattery, and the elevation of the unworthy, urging princes to recognize merit and safeguard justice as the foundation of their rule. "The reputation of the lord," he reminds, "grows from the nobility of those who serve him."
Tomás Fernández de Medrano turns his attention to the relationship between nobility, virtue, and justice. He argues that noble birth alone does not warrant honor; rather:
Those who live without virtue stain their ancestral name and should be overlooked in favor of humble but valiant individuals who strive to emulate noble ideals through personal merit.
Medrano invokes the examples of Hannibal, who declared that any soldier who proved himself would be counted as Carthaginian, and the Duke of Savoy, who often rewarded poor soldiers over aristocrats. As Medrano notes, "He who serves should be rewarded, and he who has served the most should be rewarded the most." The value of personal deeds, he insists, outweighs inherited glories: "Just as one’s present sins may be compounded by those of the past... so too can one’s deeds accumulate honor or disgrace."
While acknowledging that princes may, in some cases, elevate individuals without visible merit, Medrano stresses that such appointments should be guided by divine providence:
He urges rulers to be mindful of the traditions, integrity, and capabilities of noble houses, citing Pope Gregory XIII's secret efforts to sustain Rome’s ancient families and Augustus Caesar’s financial support for the heir of Hortensius as examples of preserving honor through benevolence.
Medrano also warns against awarding honors as political favors or selling public offices. Such practices led to the downfall of states like Sparta and contributed to France’s instability under Henry III. Instead, he advocates for a “symmetry” within the republic—a just distribution of responsibilities and honors according to proportion and merit. Quoting Ecclesiastes, he issues a grave warning: "A kingdom is transferred from one people to another due to injustice, injuries, offenses, and deceitful dealings."
In the closing passages of República Mista, Tomás Fernández de Medrano reflects on the delicate balance between clemency and justice in governance. While he affirms that "gentleness and clemency are virtues worthy of a noble and magnanimous spirit," he cautions that these virtues must not be exercised to the detriment of the republic. "That state of the republic is most desirable and stable," he quotes Polybius, "in which, privately, all live uprightly and harmlessly, and publicly, justice and clemency prevail."
For Medrano, rulers must inspire both love and fear—"love among the people, fear among enemies"—and govern with dignity tempered by accessibility. He draws on Isocrates, who advised severity in investigations and mercy in sentencing, and emphasizes the importance of example: "We need more example than command."
The ruler’s conduct, he asserts, shapes the soul of the republic. Kings and magistrates should imitate God’s goodness, for "kings easily either uplift or undermine the lives of their subjects by their example; thus, it does not befit a prince to commit sins, lest he create a model of sin." Public virtue, Medrano insists, is more instructive than law alone: "Devotion to the prince and the desire to emulate him are more powerful than any punishment prescribed by law."
He stresses that rulers should be models of temperance and morality, resisting the urge to impose reforms through decrees alone. "If the king desires what is honorable, everyone will desire the same," he writes, noting that Constantine converted many through example, just as Henry VIII led England into schism through his conduct.
Medrano warns that the vices of rulers are more harmful than those of private citizens, as they "infuse them into the state, and they harm more by example than by their actual sins." He praises rulers who restrain their excesses, citing Diogenes, Augustus, and Pope Sixtus V as models of self-restraint and moral discipline.
Medrano offers a reflection on the endurance of empire, asserting that if rulers consistently matched the virtue and vigilance of their founders—particularly in "the expansion and preservation of the Catholic faith"—and if subjects maintained their "obedience and reverence," the monarchy would continue to thrive. He credits Spain’s strength in the 17th century to the effective administration of justice and flourishing military discipline, ex cuius sinu omnes triumphi manarunt ("from whose bosom all triumphs have flowed").
He adds that "there is no doubt" the monarchy may be preserved and strengthened "to the end of time," provided it does not stray from these founding precepts. Medrano concludes with a meditation on historical decline. Empires, no matter how well-ordered, will decay without fidelity to founding precepts. "The discipline of our ancestors sustains the republic, which, if it dissolves... we will also lose the empire." Justice, labor, and virtue must be rewarded; deceit, sloth, and corruption must be punished.
He quotes Cicero: "True justice and honest labor are adorned with honors... while the vices and deceits of men are punished with losses, shame, chains, scourges, exile, and death." Medrano completes his first treatise with a quote on justice: "The truth of justice indeed requires that the wicked receive evil, and the good receive good."
República Mista was printed on the royal press and published in Madrid by Juan Flamenco in 1602.
In Valladolid on 30 August 1601, República Mista was approved by Antonio de Herrera y Tordesillas, the historian, writer and Chief Chronicler of Castile and the Americas during the reigns of Philip II and Philip III:
Medrano’s son, Juan Fernández de Medrano y Sandoval, presented his father’s treatise to His Majesty and the Royal Council of Castile alongside the original manuscript for verification and pricing. Recognizing its significance, King Philip III of Spain issued a royal decree authorizing its publication. In Valladolid, on 25 September 1601, the king and royal council granted him the license and faculty to print his father's treatise, throughout all the Kingdoms of Castile:
In Valladolid, the treatise received permission for sale on 5 March 1602, granted by Juan Gallo de Andrada, Secretary of the Chamber of His Majesty: