THE COUNT OF VILLAMEDIANA
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mythology of love is concerned, the disclosure I am about to make
is rather sensational. It was discovered fairly recently, in the archives
of Simancas, by the excellent Spanish historian, Alonso Cortes.
Villamediana, the dashing and reckless poet, supposedly the lover of
Spain's most charming Queen, the man whose escapades and whose
profligacy fascinated all the women of his time, the author of some
of the most beautiful sonnets the Spanish muses ever dedicated to
a woman-this great romantic hero was far, oh very far, from being
a paragon of masculinity. Documents have been found which show
conclusively that ViIlamediana was implicated in a trial for what
in those days was referred to as "the abominable sin." The trial
was held in 1622. Many well-known personages in Madrid were
convicted of homosexuality. The list included the hangers-on, the
servants, and the masters, of great houses. It also included Don
Juan de Tassis. For the first time the name of ViIlamediana occurs
without being linked with that of a woman. Who would have sus–
pected him? Yet he was the leader of the group. The commoners were
condemned to death, and executed in Madrid, in accordance with
the misguided rigor of the law in those days. The titled offenders
were permitted to flee to France or Italy. ViIlamediana had just
been murdered; it was his death which had led to the discovery
of the unsuspected ring of homosexuals. But his honor was spared.
The King himself, in a pious ordinance which has only recently
come to light, commanded that "whatever may be known against
him be kept secret, now that he is dead, so as not to defile his
memory."
It has taken three centuries to uncover the terrible secret whose
murky reality defaces one of love's romantic legends. The legend
attributes the cause of the Count of Villamediana's death to the
King, who, it says, was enraged by the motto "my love is royal,"
and revenged the impertinence. Distinguished poets repeated this
version, in poems which many people still know by heart. The most
famous of all is the ten-line stanza, which has been attributed to
Gongora, Quevedo, and Lope de Vega, which begins,
Scandalmonger of Madrid,
Tell me, who killed the Count?
and ends,
