One Queen, Two Executions: A Protestant and A Catholic Account of the Death of Mary, Queen of Scots
By Isabel Colyer
As long as humans have used written reporting, individual reporters’ personal beliefs have influenced the way in which they do their job. Differences in opinion, whether religious, political, moral, or otherwise, create differences in the ways truth is perceived and communicated. Though the effects of these differences have recently become a popular topic in public discussion, this tendency has existed for centuries. One prominent example of divergent ideologies creating divergent narratives of a single event is the execution of Mary, Queen of Scots, as described in the accounts of Robert Wyngfield and Adam Blackwood. Though these two writers aim to describe the exact same occurrence, the results are one description of a nearly-hysterical woman weeping and praying over “superstitious trumpery” while “longing to be gone out of the world” (Stump & Felch 357, para. 12), and another of an admirable woman whose “constancy and boldness of spiritual courage” moved even her “hardest-hearted enemies” to tears (359, para. 6). Clearly, there are differing sentiments below the surfaces of these two accounts. Examining the virulent and deeply-entrenched Catholic-Protestant divisions in British society at the time can illuminate the sources of difference which create such different portrayals of this fascinating event (McLaren).
Though Wyngfield and Blackwood’s accounts reveal that they observed the execution from different ideological viewpoints, they nonetheless shared the fundamental intent of reporting what occurred. As such, there are some facts upon which they agree. Their descriptions of the basic format of the proceedings, for example, are consistent: Mary was brought into the room, the order of execution was read, and she was given some time to pray while the Protestant Dean of Peterborough attempted to persuade her to repent and abandon her Catholicism. Mary then disrobed and climbed onto a raised platform, where, after words and prayers were said by her and others, she was eventually executed with three blows of the axe. Finally, her body was taken away to be embalmed. Beyond this general outline of events, however, Wyngfield and Blackwood describe the details of Mary’s execution in starkly different ways. Both authors agree that Mary was calm during the moments leading up to her death. Both note how she appeared minimally affected or intimidated by the proceedings, including the reading of the order of execution against her. However, they interpret Mary’s demeanor in very different ways.
To Blackwood, Mary’s calm is a display of admirable steadfastness and strength in the face of fear. He describes her as mounting the execution platform “so nimbly that she seemed to have no fear of death, neither ever changed her countenance” (359, para. 6). He notes that one of her female servants is tearful and distraught, and highlights the contrast between this behavior and Mary’s by describing the composed, motherly way in which Mary kisses, thanks, and blesses the servants, asking the visibly distressed woman to “hold her peace and to keep the silence” (359 para. 6). Blackwood explains Mary’s self-assured demeanor by including her explanation to the Dean that she holds her crucifix in her heart, even more so than in her hand, as the divine source of her calm. Through details like these, which emphasize Mary’s strong faith and the surety it provides, Blackwood’s narrative begins establishing Mary as a Catholic martyr.
In contrast, Wyngfield interprets Mary’s calm demeanor not as a sign of bravery, but of unintelligence. Like Blackwood, Wyngfield writes that Mary stepped up to the execution platform “with an unappalled countenance, without any terror of the place, the persons, or the preparations” (355 para. 2). However, he then implies that her lack of fear was the result of a simple-minded failure to understand the situation, writing that during the reading of the order of execution, Mary “was very silent, listening unto it with so careless a regard as if it had not concerned her at all, nay rather with so merry and cheerful a countenance as if it had been a pardon from her Majesty for her life” (355 para. 2). He even goes on to suggest that Mary acted “as if she had not known any of the assembly nor had been anything seen in the English tongue” (355-356, para. 2). By drawing attention to the parts of Mary’s behavior which he finds strange and foolish, Wyngfield portrays her as a flawed human, rather than the martyr which Blackwood appears to prefer.
These two authors’ personal beliefs, therefore, most likely influence their perception of Mary’s behavior at her execution. To a Catholic like Blackwood, who presumably viewed Mary’s execution as unjust and unfortunate, it is logical for Mary’s calm in the face of death to seem like an admirable show of strength. On the other hand, a Protestant like Wyngfield would not have possessed the same sympathetic view of Mary, therefore, it is logical that he would not understand her demeanor, and even see it as a sign of arrogance or stupidity. To Wyngfield and Protestants like him, Mary was already in the wrong by pursuing the Catholic faith and persisting against Elizabeth’s Protestant rule: it would not have been much of a stretch to see her as genuinely unintelligent, as Wyngfield’s account suggests.
Another element of the execution on which Wyngfield and Blackwood agree is that Mary appears to have maintained her faith until the very end. Again, however, the way in which the authors frame this element in their respective accounts results in two different interpretations. To Blackwood, who offers Catholic explanations as justifications for Mary’s actions, her faithful conviction is highly touching. To Wyngfield, on the other hand, her refusal to abandon her Catholic beliefs even on the brink of death is foolish and ridiculous. This difference is most clearly present in the authors’ different descriptions of Mary’s prayers. Blackwood notes that Mary prayed before her execution “without giving the least sign or demonstration of discontent or fear of death,” writing that her “confidence and assurance of hope of recompense of eternal life of God” (359 para. 6) was moving even to the executioner and other Protestants in the room. Blackwood even reports that “of many that were present that amongst all the whole company there was only two or three persons that could withhold weeping, condemning those in their conscience who were the authors of such a cruelty which, in former times, they never heard nor read of the like” (359 para. 6), clearly framing Mary as a martyr suffering objectively cruel treatment, which she endures with inspiring bravery.
Wyngfield also observes Mary’s insistence on her Catholicism throughout the proceedings, but is much less sympathetic in his treatment of this conviction. He appears to view Mary’s spiritual constancy as absurd and foolish, pointing out that Mary “slipped off her stool” (357 para. 12) during her fervent prayers, which he describes as being recited very quickly, “with tears and a loud voice...with overmuch weeping and mourning,” while clinging to her “superstitious trumpery” (the crucifix, beads, and Agnus Dei) (357 para. 12). By drawing attention to the way in which Mary was emotionally and physically overcome by her prayers, rather than offering sympathy and religious understanding, as Blackwood does, Wyngfield depicts Mary as almost hysterical, and certainly lacking the placidity of a holy martyr. His apparent distaste for Mary’s Catholic artifacts seems to contribute to this disparaging view of her, presumably because the rejection of idolatrous items like the Agnus Dei was a key feature of Protestant Reformation thought (Calderwood 658, Dawson 90).
This point of difference between Blackwood and Wyngfield’s accounts, therefore, demonstrates yet again the strong role their relative faiths appear to have played in their interpretations of Mary’s execution. Because Blackwood’s Catholicism allows him to understand, or at least be sympathetic to, Mary’s position, he sees her fervent prayers as brave signs of martyr-like conviction. At the same time, Wyngfield, whose Protestant background would not have given him the same understanding of or sympathy toward Mary’s conviction, sees her agitation as excessive, and thus, a sign of fear, rather than bravery.
Beyond Blackwood and Wyngfield’s differing descriptions of the main events, their choice of detail when describing specific elements of the execution is also revealing. Wyngfield’s account begins with a lengthy description of Mary’s physical appearance, including a highly detailed report of her clothing. At first, his focus on her attire stands out as odd to the reader, but Blackwood’s account includes a similarly lengthy focus on the events after Mary’s execution, which nearly outweighs the attention given to what transpired while she was still alive. The unequal weights given to certain parts of both accounts are consistent with the different images of Mary the authors construct. For Blackwood, it makes sense to focus on the events after Mary’s death, because true martyrdom necessitates the death of the subject. Mary certainly viewed herself as a martyr, according to her words and letters written in the period leading up to her death (Quinlan 668-69), and she even seems to have purposely displayed herself as one by wearing the traditional gold, black, and crimson of Catholic martyrdom to her execution (Doran 175). Blackwood’s focus on her as a dead figure, almost more than as a living one, supports this martyrous image. Wyngfield’s focus on Mary’s appearance and last living moments, and his continued observance of physical details even after her death, construct the opposite image. When Wyngfield points out physical flaws, such as Mary’s double chin or the grey, partly-shaven hair on her severed head, he creates an unattractive, distinctly human portrait. By drawing the reader’s attention to her corporeal traits and faults, Wyngfield’s account contrasts noticeably with Blackwood’s efforts to frame Mary as a super-human martyr.
In addition to this structural difference, the writers’ differing choice of detail can be seen in what they choose to include and omit about the execution team’s treatment of Mary. Wyngfield, in his account of the moments leading up to Mary’s execution, characterizes the Protestants around Mary (the Dean, jailer, executioner and other Protestant English lords) as respectful and compassionate. In describing the way the Dean spoke to Mary, Wyngfield writes that the Dean “ben(t) his body with great reverence” toward her (356 para. 3). Wyngfield also includes details of the Dean’s words to Mary, which describe him offering her a welcoming last chance at Protestant redemption: “Even now, Madam, doth God Almighty open you a door into a heavenly kingdom. Shut not therefore this passage by the hardening of your heart and grieve not the Spirit of God, which may seal your hope to a day of redemption” (356 para. 5). Even after Wyngfield notes that Mary refuses to repent or pray with the Dean, and is “uncomfortable” (356-357, para. 9), he points out that the Dean continues to pray for her anyway, portraying him as even more compassionate than strictly necessary. As Goodare points out in his analysis of the execution, the rumors which circulated after the execution that Mary had been offered life in exchange for her conversion were false, and she was to be executed no matter what, so the Dean’s offer to allow Mary to repent was not necessarily any large act of kindness. According to Wyngfield’s description of events, however, the Dean was nonetheless consistently kind and fair toward Mary before her death.
Blackwood’s description of the Dean and other Protestants handling the execution ceremony, on the other hand, describes a complete lack of compassion. Rather, Blackwood portrays the Protestants present as cruel and disrespectful, even after Mary’s beheading. His word choice when describing the blows of the axe reveals this view, when he refers to the executioner as “the butcher” who finally struck off Mary’s head “at the third blow, to make her martyrdom the more noble,” and afterward “snatcheth up the head in his hand” (360 para. 7) to show the others present. Blackwood then describes how, “in derision and contempt, he pulled off her coif and showed her white hairs, with contemptuous words unworthy to be spoken or heard by the mouth or ears of any Christian” (360 para. 8). Verbs like “pierce,” “snatch,” and “pull,” and adjectives like “contemptuous” and “unworthy” (360 para. 7-9), serve to create a negative image of Mary’s executioner, and, by extension, a negative image of the execution itself, as a Catholic like Blackwood would have held. Between this type of purposeful word choice and Blackwood’s inclusion of certain explanatory details, such as when he excuses Mary’s partly-shaved head as being the consequence of an illness, the reader is encouraged to see the execution and those who performed it in a negative light, which strengthens Mary’s image as a martyr suffering unjust treatment.
Wyngfield and Blackwood’s descriptions of what occurred after Mary’s beheading are just as revealing as their descriptions of her last moments. In Wyngfield’s account, just after he notes the Dean’s final words following Mary’s death, he describes an executioner’s discovery of Mary’s dog, which had been hiding in her skirts and subsequently refused to leave her body. Though Wyngfield characterizes the dog as “a thing much noted” (358 para. 18), Blackwood makes no mention of it. Logically, including the presence of Mary’s dog serves Wyngfield’s purpose: the image of the small dog “imbrued in her blood...[lying] between her head and shoulders” (358 para. 18) is clearly pitiful, especially in conjunction with the fact that the dog went on to “[refuse] food, dying of grief” (Dakers 281). Such a pathetic image humanizes Mary, and thus, is consistent with Wyngfield’s conception of her as a flawed mortal. Blackwood, on the other hand, completely ignores the dog in his account, instead focusing on the disrespect with which the Mary’s body is treated after her death. Any mention of the pitiful dog in Blackwood’s account would have detracted from this focus, and from his super-human image of Mary’s martyrdom.
In addition to the dog, Wyngfield and Blackwood’s accounts contain very different descriptions of how Mary’s corpse was handled. With overt displeasure, Blackwood describes the way “the cruel jailor” removes Mary’s clothing from “her sacred body” (360 para. 9) against her ladies’ wishes to do so themselves, and disapprovingly comments that “all malice, hatred, envy, and contempt of the dead ought to end after their decease.” He describes at length the way Mary’s “woeful corpse” (360-61 para. 11) is mistreated, finally being embalmed after it is neglected long enough to begin rotting. Blackwood’s focus on Mary’s physical body after her execution is consistent with his view of Mary as a Catholic martyr. In this era, while Protestants sought to re-define martyrdom in new terms, the Catholic Church was strengthening its own conception of martyrdom by emphasizing continuity with the traditional, medieval view (Crown 145). This longstanding Catholic conception of martyrdom necessitated odium fidei [hatred of the faith] of the martyr’s persecutors (Benedict XVI, para. 18), which Blackwood seems to be establishing in his disproportionate attention to the excessively cruel ways in which the Protestant jailer and executioners treated Mary’s corpse.
Wyngfield’s account, unsurprisingly, does the opposite by emphasizing Mary’s corporeal impurity. Wyngfield’s description of Mary’s corpse centers upon the cleansing of everything her blood touched: the dog is taken away and washed, and all her bloodied clothing is washed or burned. While human blood is a traditionally powerful and sacred Christian symbol, many Protestants like Wyngfield began de-emphasizing the sanctity of blood, including its role in martyrdom, during the Reformation. As such, Wyngfield’s description of the bloody scene created by Mary’s beheading actually serves to further emphasize her corporeal nature, rather than invoke any sacred symbolism. The Protestant executioners, however, were likely wary of the sanctity with which Catholics might view Mary’s blood: Antonia Fraser writes that their purposeful washing or burning of every bloodstained item was done “so that not a trace of her blood might remain to create a holy relic to inspire devotion in years to come” (540). After the scourging of her possessions, Wyngfield concludes with a succinct description of how Mary was carried away into a chamber for embalming, “and there she was embalmed” (para. 18). Unlike Blackwood’s drawn-out description of her abused corpse, Wyngfield’s words give the impression that it was embalmed quickly, and without any mistreatment by the Protestants. Such a brief, unemotional description of the handling of the corpse fits Wyngfield’s narrative, since a description of anything but the most standard, impartial treatment would have risked inciting Catholic anger and contributing to the vision of Mary as a hated martyr.
In the end, Wyngfield and Blackwood both approached their duty to record the events of Mary’s execution in a logical way, based on their ideological differences. The surprisingly high degree of difference between their accounts does not necessary suggest purposeful editing, but rather, is likely the result of unconscious biases; the two accounts suggest two different ways in which a Protestant and a Catholic might have genuinely viewed Mary’s execution. It is precisely this point which makes these accounts important and relevant to a modern-day college student. Modern society is still rife with ideological divides, religious and otherwise, and individual reporters still possess internal biases. Just as Wyngfield and Blackwood’s personal beliefs appear to have shaped the way they viewed and conveyed the events of Mary’s execution, so do the personal beliefs of any modern journalist, as well as regular individuals describing the world around them. These accounts can remind us that everyone’s outlook is shaped by their beliefs, and analyzing these beliefs can help reveal the reasons behind different versions of the truth. Keeping this in mind can encourage the exploration of different truths, and help individuals understand why one version of events might be different than another. Especially as today’s college students navigate society’s increasing distrust of the media and of reporters’ versions of the truth, the example of Wyngfield and Blackwood’s respective truths may be an illuminating example.
Works Cited
Benedict XVI, Letter of His Holiness Benedict XVI to the Participants of the Plenary Session
of the Congregation for the Causes of Saints, Vatican Website, April 24, 2006, para. 18, accessed April 24, 2018, https://w2.vatican.va/content/benedict-xvi/en/letters/2006/ documents/hf_ben-xvi_let_20060424_cause-santi.html.
Calderwood, David. The True History of the Church of Scotland, From the Beginning of the
Reformation, unto the End of the Reigne of King James VI. The Bavarian State Library, 1678, p. 658.
Crown, Nick. (2015). Catholic and Protestant Martyrdom in England: Representations of
England as Israel c. 1530-1600, 18th International Academic Conference, London, August 25, 2015. International Institute of Social and Economic Sciences.
Dakers, Andrew Herbert. The Tragic Queen; A Study of Mary Queen of Scots. Boston, MA.
Houghton Mifflin Company, 1931.
Dawson, Jane E. A. The Politics of Religion in the Age of Mary, Queen of Scots. Cambridge,
United Kingdom. Cambridge University Press.
Doran, Susan. Mary Queen of Scots: An Illustrated Life. London, United Kingdom. British
Library, 2007.
Fraser, Antonia. Mary Queen of Scots. London, United Kingdom. Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1969.
“Mary [Mary Stewart] (1542–1587), Queen of Scots | Oxford Dictionary of National
Biography.”Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford University Press, 9 Nov. 2017, www.oxforddnb.com/view/10.1093/ref:odnb/9780198614128.001.0001/ odnb-9780198614128-e-18248.
McLaren, Anne. “Gender, Religion, and Early Modern Nationalism: Elizabeth I, Mary Queen of
Scots, and the Genesis of English Anti-Catholicism.” American Historical Review, June 2002. EBSCO Host, EBSCO Discovery Ser, eds.a.ebscohost.com/eds/pdfviewer/ pdfviewer?vid =1&sid=96d0ccd2-766a-4f81-98d8-c899e4f0addd@sessionmgr4009.
Quinlan, John. “Was Mary Stuart A Martyr?” The Irish Monthly, vol. 61, no. 727, Nov. 1933.
JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/20513645?read-now=1&seq=5#page_scan_tab_contents.
Stump, Donald, and Susan M. Felch. Elizabeth I And Her Age. New York, NY. W. W. Norton &
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Stylianou, Anastasia. “Martyrs' Blood in the English Reformations.” British Catholic History,
vol. 33, no. 4, 2017, pp. 534–560., doi:10.1017/bch.2017.24.
By Isabel Colyer
As long as humans have used written reporting, individual reporters’ personal beliefs have influenced the way in which they do their job. Differences in opinion, whether religious, political, moral, or otherwise, create differences in the ways truth is perceived and communicated. Though the effects of these differences have recently become a popular topic in public discussion, this tendency has existed for centuries. One prominent example of divergent ideologies creating divergent narratives of a single event is the execution of Mary, Queen of Scots, as described in the accounts of Robert Wyngfield and Adam Blackwood. Though these two writers aim to describe the exact same occurrence, the results are one description of a nearly-hysterical woman weeping and praying over “superstitious trumpery” while “longing to be gone out of the world” (Stump & Felch 357, para. 12), and another of an admirable woman whose “constancy and boldness of spiritual courage” moved even her “hardest-hearted enemies” to tears (359, para. 6). Clearly, there are differing sentiments below the surfaces of these two accounts. Examining the virulent and deeply-entrenched Catholic-Protestant divisions in British society at the time can illuminate the sources of difference which create such different portrayals of this fascinating event (McLaren).
Though Wyngfield and Blackwood’s accounts reveal that they observed the execution from different ideological viewpoints, they nonetheless shared the fundamental intent of reporting what occurred. As such, there are some facts upon which they agree. Their descriptions of the basic format of the proceedings, for example, are consistent: Mary was brought into the room, the order of execution was read, and she was given some time to pray while the Protestant Dean of Peterborough attempted to persuade her to repent and abandon her Catholicism. Mary then disrobed and climbed onto a raised platform, where, after words and prayers were said by her and others, she was eventually executed with three blows of the axe. Finally, her body was taken away to be embalmed. Beyond this general outline of events, however, Wyngfield and Blackwood describe the details of Mary’s execution in starkly different ways. Both authors agree that Mary was calm during the moments leading up to her death. Both note how she appeared minimally affected or intimidated by the proceedings, including the reading of the order of execution against her. However, they interpret Mary’s demeanor in very different ways.
To Blackwood, Mary’s calm is a display of admirable steadfastness and strength in the face of fear. He describes her as mounting the execution platform “so nimbly that she seemed to have no fear of death, neither ever changed her countenance” (359, para. 6). He notes that one of her female servants is tearful and distraught, and highlights the contrast between this behavior and Mary’s by describing the composed, motherly way in which Mary kisses, thanks, and blesses the servants, asking the visibly distressed woman to “hold her peace and to keep the silence” (359 para. 6). Blackwood explains Mary’s self-assured demeanor by including her explanation to the Dean that she holds her crucifix in her heart, even more so than in her hand, as the divine source of her calm. Through details like these, which emphasize Mary’s strong faith and the surety it provides, Blackwood’s narrative begins establishing Mary as a Catholic martyr.
In contrast, Wyngfield interprets Mary’s calm demeanor not as a sign of bravery, but of unintelligence. Like Blackwood, Wyngfield writes that Mary stepped up to the execution platform “with an unappalled countenance, without any terror of the place, the persons, or the preparations” (355 para. 2). However, he then implies that her lack of fear was the result of a simple-minded failure to understand the situation, writing that during the reading of the order of execution, Mary “was very silent, listening unto it with so careless a regard as if it had not concerned her at all, nay rather with so merry and cheerful a countenance as if it had been a pardon from her Majesty for her life” (355 para. 2). He even goes on to suggest that Mary acted “as if she had not known any of the assembly nor had been anything seen in the English tongue” (355-356, para. 2). By drawing attention to the parts of Mary’s behavior which he finds strange and foolish, Wyngfield portrays her as a flawed human, rather than the martyr which Blackwood appears to prefer.
These two authors’ personal beliefs, therefore, most likely influence their perception of Mary’s behavior at her execution. To a Catholic like Blackwood, who presumably viewed Mary’s execution as unjust and unfortunate, it is logical for Mary’s calm in the face of death to seem like an admirable show of strength. On the other hand, a Protestant like Wyngfield would not have possessed the same sympathetic view of Mary, therefore, it is logical that he would not understand her demeanor, and even see it as a sign of arrogance or stupidity. To Wyngfield and Protestants like him, Mary was already in the wrong by pursuing the Catholic faith and persisting against Elizabeth’s Protestant rule: it would not have been much of a stretch to see her as genuinely unintelligent, as Wyngfield’s account suggests.
Another element of the execution on which Wyngfield and Blackwood agree is that Mary appears to have maintained her faith until the very end. Again, however, the way in which the authors frame this element in their respective accounts results in two different interpretations. To Blackwood, who offers Catholic explanations as justifications for Mary’s actions, her faithful conviction is highly touching. To Wyngfield, on the other hand, her refusal to abandon her Catholic beliefs even on the brink of death is foolish and ridiculous. This difference is most clearly present in the authors’ different descriptions of Mary’s prayers. Blackwood notes that Mary prayed before her execution “without giving the least sign or demonstration of discontent or fear of death,” writing that her “confidence and assurance of hope of recompense of eternal life of God” (359 para. 6) was moving even to the executioner and other Protestants in the room. Blackwood even reports that “of many that were present that amongst all the whole company there was only two or three persons that could withhold weeping, condemning those in their conscience who were the authors of such a cruelty which, in former times, they never heard nor read of the like” (359 para. 6), clearly framing Mary as a martyr suffering objectively cruel treatment, which she endures with inspiring bravery.
Wyngfield also observes Mary’s insistence on her Catholicism throughout the proceedings, but is much less sympathetic in his treatment of this conviction. He appears to view Mary’s spiritual constancy as absurd and foolish, pointing out that Mary “slipped off her stool” (357 para. 12) during her fervent prayers, which he describes as being recited very quickly, “with tears and a loud voice...with overmuch weeping and mourning,” while clinging to her “superstitious trumpery” (the crucifix, beads, and Agnus Dei) (357 para. 12). By drawing attention to the way in which Mary was emotionally and physically overcome by her prayers, rather than offering sympathy and religious understanding, as Blackwood does, Wyngfield depicts Mary as almost hysterical, and certainly lacking the placidity of a holy martyr. His apparent distaste for Mary’s Catholic artifacts seems to contribute to this disparaging view of her, presumably because the rejection of idolatrous items like the Agnus Dei was a key feature of Protestant Reformation thought (Calderwood 658, Dawson 90).
This point of difference between Blackwood and Wyngfield’s accounts, therefore, demonstrates yet again the strong role their relative faiths appear to have played in their interpretations of Mary’s execution. Because Blackwood’s Catholicism allows him to understand, or at least be sympathetic to, Mary’s position, he sees her fervent prayers as brave signs of martyr-like conviction. At the same time, Wyngfield, whose Protestant background would not have given him the same understanding of or sympathy toward Mary’s conviction, sees her agitation as excessive, and thus, a sign of fear, rather than bravery.
Beyond Blackwood and Wyngfield’s differing descriptions of the main events, their choice of detail when describing specific elements of the execution is also revealing. Wyngfield’s account begins with a lengthy description of Mary’s physical appearance, including a highly detailed report of her clothing. At first, his focus on her attire stands out as odd to the reader, but Blackwood’s account includes a similarly lengthy focus on the events after Mary’s execution, which nearly outweighs the attention given to what transpired while she was still alive. The unequal weights given to certain parts of both accounts are consistent with the different images of Mary the authors construct. For Blackwood, it makes sense to focus on the events after Mary’s death, because true martyrdom necessitates the death of the subject. Mary certainly viewed herself as a martyr, according to her words and letters written in the period leading up to her death (Quinlan 668-69), and she even seems to have purposely displayed herself as one by wearing the traditional gold, black, and crimson of Catholic martyrdom to her execution (Doran 175). Blackwood’s focus on her as a dead figure, almost more than as a living one, supports this martyrous image. Wyngfield’s focus on Mary’s appearance and last living moments, and his continued observance of physical details even after her death, construct the opposite image. When Wyngfield points out physical flaws, such as Mary’s double chin or the grey, partly-shaven hair on her severed head, he creates an unattractive, distinctly human portrait. By drawing the reader’s attention to her corporeal traits and faults, Wyngfield’s account contrasts noticeably with Blackwood’s efforts to frame Mary as a super-human martyr.
In addition to this structural difference, the writers’ differing choice of detail can be seen in what they choose to include and omit about the execution team’s treatment of Mary. Wyngfield, in his account of the moments leading up to Mary’s execution, characterizes the Protestants around Mary (the Dean, jailer, executioner and other Protestant English lords) as respectful and compassionate. In describing the way the Dean spoke to Mary, Wyngfield writes that the Dean “ben(t) his body with great reverence” toward her (356 para. 3). Wyngfield also includes details of the Dean’s words to Mary, which describe him offering her a welcoming last chance at Protestant redemption: “Even now, Madam, doth God Almighty open you a door into a heavenly kingdom. Shut not therefore this passage by the hardening of your heart and grieve not the Spirit of God, which may seal your hope to a day of redemption” (356 para. 5). Even after Wyngfield notes that Mary refuses to repent or pray with the Dean, and is “uncomfortable” (356-357, para. 9), he points out that the Dean continues to pray for her anyway, portraying him as even more compassionate than strictly necessary. As Goodare points out in his analysis of the execution, the rumors which circulated after the execution that Mary had been offered life in exchange for her conversion were false, and she was to be executed no matter what, so the Dean’s offer to allow Mary to repent was not necessarily any large act of kindness. According to Wyngfield’s description of events, however, the Dean was nonetheless consistently kind and fair toward Mary before her death.
Blackwood’s description of the Dean and other Protestants handling the execution ceremony, on the other hand, describes a complete lack of compassion. Rather, Blackwood portrays the Protestants present as cruel and disrespectful, even after Mary’s beheading. His word choice when describing the blows of the axe reveals this view, when he refers to the executioner as “the butcher” who finally struck off Mary’s head “at the third blow, to make her martyrdom the more noble,” and afterward “snatcheth up the head in his hand” (360 para. 7) to show the others present. Blackwood then describes how, “in derision and contempt, he pulled off her coif and showed her white hairs, with contemptuous words unworthy to be spoken or heard by the mouth or ears of any Christian” (360 para. 8). Verbs like “pierce,” “snatch,” and “pull,” and adjectives like “contemptuous” and “unworthy” (360 para. 7-9), serve to create a negative image of Mary’s executioner, and, by extension, a negative image of the execution itself, as a Catholic like Blackwood would have held. Between this type of purposeful word choice and Blackwood’s inclusion of certain explanatory details, such as when he excuses Mary’s partly-shaved head as being the consequence of an illness, the reader is encouraged to see the execution and those who performed it in a negative light, which strengthens Mary’s image as a martyr suffering unjust treatment.
Wyngfield and Blackwood’s descriptions of what occurred after Mary’s beheading are just as revealing as their descriptions of her last moments. In Wyngfield’s account, just after he notes the Dean’s final words following Mary’s death, he describes an executioner’s discovery of Mary’s dog, which had been hiding in her skirts and subsequently refused to leave her body. Though Wyngfield characterizes the dog as “a thing much noted” (358 para. 18), Blackwood makes no mention of it. Logically, including the presence of Mary’s dog serves Wyngfield’s purpose: the image of the small dog “imbrued in her blood...[lying] between her head and shoulders” (358 para. 18) is clearly pitiful, especially in conjunction with the fact that the dog went on to “[refuse] food, dying of grief” (Dakers 281). Such a pathetic image humanizes Mary, and thus, is consistent with Wyngfield’s conception of her as a flawed mortal. Blackwood, on the other hand, completely ignores the dog in his account, instead focusing on the disrespect with which the Mary’s body is treated after her death. Any mention of the pitiful dog in Blackwood’s account would have detracted from this focus, and from his super-human image of Mary’s martyrdom.
In addition to the dog, Wyngfield and Blackwood’s accounts contain very different descriptions of how Mary’s corpse was handled. With overt displeasure, Blackwood describes the way “the cruel jailor” removes Mary’s clothing from “her sacred body” (360 para. 9) against her ladies’ wishes to do so themselves, and disapprovingly comments that “all malice, hatred, envy, and contempt of the dead ought to end after their decease.” He describes at length the way Mary’s “woeful corpse” (360-61 para. 11) is mistreated, finally being embalmed after it is neglected long enough to begin rotting. Blackwood’s focus on Mary’s physical body after her execution is consistent with his view of Mary as a Catholic martyr. In this era, while Protestants sought to re-define martyrdom in new terms, the Catholic Church was strengthening its own conception of martyrdom by emphasizing continuity with the traditional, medieval view (Crown 145). This longstanding Catholic conception of martyrdom necessitated odium fidei [hatred of the faith] of the martyr’s persecutors (Benedict XVI, para. 18), which Blackwood seems to be establishing in his disproportionate attention to the excessively cruel ways in which the Protestant jailer and executioners treated Mary’s corpse.
Wyngfield’s account, unsurprisingly, does the opposite by emphasizing Mary’s corporeal impurity. Wyngfield’s description of Mary’s corpse centers upon the cleansing of everything her blood touched: the dog is taken away and washed, and all her bloodied clothing is washed or burned. While human blood is a traditionally powerful and sacred Christian symbol, many Protestants like Wyngfield began de-emphasizing the sanctity of blood, including its role in martyrdom, during the Reformation. As such, Wyngfield’s description of the bloody scene created by Mary’s beheading actually serves to further emphasize her corporeal nature, rather than invoke any sacred symbolism. The Protestant executioners, however, were likely wary of the sanctity with which Catholics might view Mary’s blood: Antonia Fraser writes that their purposeful washing or burning of every bloodstained item was done “so that not a trace of her blood might remain to create a holy relic to inspire devotion in years to come” (540). After the scourging of her possessions, Wyngfield concludes with a succinct description of how Mary was carried away into a chamber for embalming, “and there she was embalmed” (para. 18). Unlike Blackwood’s drawn-out description of her abused corpse, Wyngfield’s words give the impression that it was embalmed quickly, and without any mistreatment by the Protestants. Such a brief, unemotional description of the handling of the corpse fits Wyngfield’s narrative, since a description of anything but the most standard, impartial treatment would have risked inciting Catholic anger and contributing to the vision of Mary as a hated martyr.
In the end, Wyngfield and Blackwood both approached their duty to record the events of Mary’s execution in a logical way, based on their ideological differences. The surprisingly high degree of difference between their accounts does not necessary suggest purposeful editing, but rather, is likely the result of unconscious biases; the two accounts suggest two different ways in which a Protestant and a Catholic might have genuinely viewed Mary’s execution. It is precisely this point which makes these accounts important and relevant to a modern-day college student. Modern society is still rife with ideological divides, religious and otherwise, and individual reporters still possess internal biases. Just as Wyngfield and Blackwood’s personal beliefs appear to have shaped the way they viewed and conveyed the events of Mary’s execution, so do the personal beliefs of any modern journalist, as well as regular individuals describing the world around them. These accounts can remind us that everyone’s outlook is shaped by their beliefs, and analyzing these beliefs can help reveal the reasons behind different versions of the truth. Keeping this in mind can encourage the exploration of different truths, and help individuals understand why one version of events might be different than another. Especially as today’s college students navigate society’s increasing distrust of the media and of reporters’ versions of the truth, the example of Wyngfield and Blackwood’s respective truths may be an illuminating example.
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