The brilliant author C.S. Lewis died on the same day that an American president was assassinated. The violent death of John F. Kennedy in November of 1963 eclipsed Lewis’ own passing, so many people were unaware of it for some time. Yet on that autumn day, both Camelot and Narnia lost their inspirations.
Unfortunately, Kennedy’s shooting was not the only political assassination that was connected in a manner to C.S. Lewis’ life. Archduke Franz Ferdinand Carl Ludwig Joseph Maria of Austria was the heir apparent to the throne of Austria-Hungary. A nineteen year old political activist cold-bloodedly murdered the archduke and his wife, Sofie.
Franz and Sophie had married for love, despite her inadequate social rank, which resulted in a morganatic marriage. In recent years such unions have become more common, but at the time, it was a serious matter. The archduke was forced by his uncle, the emperor, to accept that their descendants would never have a right to the throne.
In a convoluted fashion, Ferdinand’s death nearly led to C.S. Lewis’ own. The 1914 assassination was the spark that set the globe on fire during the First World War. And, during that grim conflict, C.S. Lewis was severely wounded by an artillery shell that killed friends standing nearby.
“The Causes and Impact of Political Assassinations” was published by the Combating Terrorism Center at West Point. It begins with the fact that “political assassinations have been part of social reality since the emergence of communal social frameworks . . .” And so, since social frameworks will forever exist, they continue.
Humanity’s Violent History
Assassination has been a relatively common practice throughout human history. This shouldn’t surprise anyone who knows the sad story of Abel and his angry brother, Cain.
Philip II of Macedon, the father of Alexander the Great, was killed attending the wedding of his daughter Cleopatra (no, not that Cleopatra). Later Cleopatra, as a widow, would be assassinated herself by one of her unsuccessful suitors.
Three centuries later, Julius Caesar was murdered by the political elite of Rome, who feared his growing influence. And in 453, one of Rome’s greatest enemies, Attila the Hun, was arguably murdered on his wedding night by his new bride, Ildico.
Several assassinations are recorded in the Bible. Over such a lengthy and turbulent historical period, that is unsurprising. The two excerpts below have links to the fuller accounts.
[Canaanite general] Sisera fled away on foot to the tent of Jael, the wife of Heber the Kenite, for there was peace between Jabin the king of Hazor and the house of Heber the Kenite. And Jael came out to meet Sisera and said to him, “Turn aside, my lord; turn aside to me; do not be afraid.” So he [entered] the tent, and she covered him with a rug. . . . And he said to her, “Stand at the opening of the tent, and if any man comes and asks you, ‘Is anyone here?’ say, ‘No.’” But Jael the wife of Heber took a tent peg, and took a hammer in her hand. Then she went softly to him and drove the peg into his temple until it went down into the ground while he was lying fast asleep from weariness (Judges 4).
Joab took Amasa by the beard with his right hand to kiss him. But Amasa did not observe the sword that was in Joab’s hand. So Joab struck him with it in the stomach and spilled his entrails to the ground without striking a second blow, and he died (2 Samuel 20).
As a sort of counterbalance to these “positive” instances – elimination of Israel’s enemies – you may want to read about King David’s condemnation of the assassinations of his political rivals, men to whom he would have extended mercy. When two brothers sought a reward for murdering King Ish-bosheth, Saul’s son, David declared “when wicked men have killed a righteous man in his own house on his bed, shall I not now require his blood at your hand and destroy you from the earth?” (2 Samuel 4).
All told, however, there was much violence in the ancient world. As C.S. Lewis’ wife, Joy Davidman, wrote in Smoke on the Mountain: An Interpretation of the Ten Commandments in Terms of Today:
How the ancient Jews did slaughter! They killed in hot blood and in cold; they killed for loot, for God, and for fun. . . . The tribes killed . . . by political assassination as when Ehud stabbed King Eglon in his fat belly . . . [The graphic story of Eglon’s assassination is detailed in Judges 3.]
Another historically consequential assassination occurred in the year 661, when Muhammad’s son-in-law Ali ibn Abi Talib was slain with a poison-coated sword while praying in the Great Mosque of Kufa. This incident caused Islam to separate into two major denominations, and Sunni-Shia relations continue to be contentious.
In the modern era, political murders remain unabated. Vladimir Putin may be the current master of the deadly art. Even discounting the growing number of “suicides” among his advisers and generals following his ill-advised invasion of Ukraine, we have the case of Alexei Navalny. Navalny was one of Putin’s critics who in 2020 survived poisoning with Novichok nerve agent. Nevertheless, imprisoned in the arctic, he later died under extremely suspicious circumstances.
In the western hemisphere, the recent attempted assassination of former President Donald Trump invites a review of the danger of serving in that particular office. Despite the (obvious) risk of inviting non-Americans to mock the United States, consider a few facts.
- Since 1789 (when the office was established) we have had 45 presidents
- Four sitting presidents have been assassinated while in office
- Three other presidents (one while in office) were wounded in assassination attempts
Assassination During the Protestant Reformation
In C.S. Lewis’ landmark tome English Literature in the Sixteenth Century, recalls a peculiar passage from the History of the Reformation of Religion within the Realm of Scotland. The author, John Knox refers to the murder of Scotland’s last pre-Reformation Roman Catholic cardinal. It would be more than four centuries before the Pope appointed another.
In the cast of [Knox’s] mind, too, there is something not unlike Tacitus’ sombre pungency, though Knox’s humour, as becomes a countryman of Dunbar, is more boisterous and ferocious.
Sometimes, indeed, it is so ferocious that we should not recognize it at all if we were not told; as when after describing the murder of Cardinal Beaton down to the last grim detail of packing the corpse in salt (‘the wether was hote’) he proceeds, ‘These things we wreat mearelie: but we wold that the reader should observe Goddis just judgementis.’
He was apparently afraid lest the fun of the thing might lead us to forget that even an assassination may have its serious side.
Quite true. An assassination, even of a despised ruler such as Adolf Hitler, remains a serious matter.
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