De
Wohl
A Writer of Adventure Stories About Generals and Saints
He began by writing adventure stories, mysteries, and light
novels, and ended with the lives of the saints and Church history. The German
writer de Wohl’s
change of direction was not dictated by pietism or bigotry, but by the fascination
he felt for key figures in the life of the Church. Cardinal Schuster of Milan
once told him, “For your writings you will one day be judged”
By Stefania Ragusa
“Life is the most romantic of all adventures,” Chesterton
wrote in one of his stories, “but only those with an adventurer’s
heart can understand this.” It would be hard to find a more apt and synthetically
descriptive expression of the life, works, and heart of Louis de Wohl, a prolific
German writer who lived in the first half of the twentieth century. His own life
story is so adventurous as to seem a literary invention itself. As a writer,
he had the keenness, sensitivity, and passion necessary for entering intimately
into the characters whose stories he told, managing to identify with them and
to make his readers participate in the human dramas that really were played out
in history.
Without censoring anything, without falling prey to oversimplification or idealization,
de Wohl’s historical novels manage to bring into focus the richest and
most evocative aspects of the events recounted; the ideals that move the protagonists
and make them capable of facing toils, pains, and even very great sacrifices;
and to render these personages accessible to his readers.
Just who are the heroes and heroines of de Wohl’s novels?
Novels and hagiography
Before the war, when he was still living in Germany, de Wohl (born Ludwig von
Wohl) was already a successful writer. His books were, for the most part, adventure
stories, mysteries, and light, entertaining novels. “People read them in
trains or when they were too tired to read something really good. And they were
written for just that purpose.” Then Hitler rose to power, and World War
II broke out. De Wohl was in London when the Germans began bombing it, and for
years he was forced to live with the fear of air raids. “I could not help
asking myself: If I die tonight–and I have a very good chance for that–what
do I have to show for this life of mine? What had I done with the talents God
had given me?” For de Wohl, a Catholic by tradition but made a bit bourgeois
by too rapid and sudden success, this was the historical circumstance for rediscovering
his faith and above all his vocation. Finally, an encounter clarified the new
direction he was to take: the Archbishop of Milan, Cardinal Ildefonso Schuster,
urged him, “Let your writings be good. For your writings you will one day
be judged.”
The saints, boring types…
So, starting right after the war, he decided to employ his genius and art in
God’s service. This he did by recounting the human experiences of those
who, in the concreteness of their personal histories, adhered to the mystery
of God’s Presence: St Peter, St Paul, St Helen, St Benedict, St Francis
of Assisi, St Catherine of Siena, St Thomas, St Ignatius of Loyola, St Francis
Xavier, and many others, all the way to Pope Pius XII and on to the history of
the Catholic Church.
The decision to recount the lives of the saints was, however, not dictated by
pietism or bigotry. If anything, it was the personal charm these men and women
had over him, as well as a healthy concern for education. “I had seen the
terrifying effect of a false ideal. Millions of Germans fell for the dynamic
charlatanism of Hitler; they tried to ape him, to become little Hitlers themselves.” De
Wohl understood that people, and peoples, want someone to guide them, a model
to follow, a humanity greater than they are to represent them. This is why God
sent Christ–but “how could Mr Smith hope to imitate Him?” The
examples of the saints seemed more reachable; they were human beings in every
sense, and had had to fight every kind of temptation. Thus, de Wohl began reading
books about the saints, but he soon realized that the too devout tone, the style,
and the rhythm with which they were written would never attract people living
on the edge of faith, much less non-believers. Yet these were the very ones who
most needed to encounter a different, truer humanity. A poll that he took himself
told him that the people polled considered the saints to be “plastercast
figures,” “goody-goodies,” and “disagreeable zealots.” No
one had answered that “saints are what I ought to be,” or “saints
are examples to be followed.” But de Wohl had read and experienced enough
to know with certainty that “they were the most thrilling, the most interesting,
the most courageous, and even the most glamorous people of all.”
… or fascinating figures?
Anyone who has read The Last Crusade (about Don Juan of Austria) or The Quiet
Light (about St Thomas Aquinas) can attest that they do not present comforting
little figures. Don Juan is a Spanish gentleman playing a leading role in an
exciting and dramatic period of Spain’s history, a man in whom vice and
virtue, fidelity and sin, passion and frailty live side by side. His greatness
lies in having followed the signs placed along his path and having accomplished
the mission entrusted to his life: to fight for Truth and to defend Christendom
in the fight against the Ottoman Turks, culminating in the historic battle of
Lepanto.
Every novel by de Wohl offers a rich, faithful fresco of the cultural, social,
and political context of the events narrated. Thanks to the writer’s care
in seeking and choosing his sources, but above all thanks to his flowing, persuasive
style, the reader can truly immerse himself and feel at home in long-ago worlds
inhabited by well-known names and famous figures, skillfully connected–perhaps
by means of some imaginative invention–into an organic, engrossing story.
Thus, in The Tree of Life, the reader is drawn into the fights, intrigues, and
brave deeds of Constantine the Great, and even before, of Constantius and Helen–who
found the Holy Cross in Jerusalem–almost without realizing that he is reading,
after all, pages from the history of the fourth century. De Wohl did not try
to bring his narration up to date at all costs, but he was perfectly aware that “the
problems of the saints–and all around them–were the problems of our
own time, and they and only they were able to solve them.”
Constantius and Curio
The Tree of Life contains wonderful pages describing Constantius’ wonder
when he realizes that the legate Curio–thus an officer and, what is more,
of noble birth–has become a convinced follower of the strange new doctrine,
Christianity. Curio explains that his ancestry and position do not keep him from
recognizing the truth when he encounters it. He adds that Christianity is not “a
philosophical doctrine. It is a series of facts. Once you recognize that, all
you can do is behave accordingly.” When Constantius laughs at “the
crazy idea that one fine day God became a man,” Curio replies, “In
reality, I simply think according to logic. If God is God, He can certainly work
miracles. If He invented and created the laws of nature, He can also abolish
them once in a while.” Again, Constantius objects that Curio cannot believe
in portents he has not seen with his own eyes, and the elderly legate answers
back, “Neither did I fight at Pharsalus or participate in the taking of
Jerusalem. But am I a credulous fool if I admit that these are facts?” And
so on… in a dialectic that is repeated even today, after two thousand years
of Christianity.
A writer from an early age
De Wohl started writing at the age of seven, spurred by the fact that “some
of the stories I read did not go the way I wanted. I simply decided to change
them…. At the age of eight, I wrote a play, Jesus of Nazareth…. I
decided to compose the music for it myself, paint the posters and design the
scenery, and of course I myself would play one of the leading parts, Caiphas
perhaps, or Mary Magdalene.”
When he moved to England in 1935, his English “was only just good enough
to get on in everyday life.” He soon realized that he had to deal not only
with a different language, but with a different mentality, and since this is
formed above all in early childhood, he decided to follow the long path traveled
by children as they learn their mother tongue. He bought collections of nursery
rhymes and fairy tales, then books for children ages 7 to 8, and on up until
he read everything he could: history books, best-sellers, mysteries, adventure
stories, newspapers and magazines, theater, and poetry. “A book a day was
the minimum.” It is certain that he learned to write very well, and thus
fulfilled the mission that had been entrusted to him.