A view of the Siege of Stuhlweissenberg on 9 October 1601.
…The October of 1601 came – that same month, thirty years ago exactly, the Turks had their pride broken at Lepanto. Now they had crossed the Danube, and in numbers, variously estimated between 80,000 and 90,000, they were drawn up a few miles from Albareale. Laurence, on horseback, in his Capuchin habit and cross in hand, had been haranguing the Christian army, drawn up before him in line of battle. They were less than thirty thousand strong. His burning words went home, to such effect that the soldiers could scarcely be induced to wait for the command to charge. His promise of victory was explicit. Meantime, in a council of war, some of the imperial officers were urging violently the madness of risking an engagement. The enemy had all the high ground, and outnumbered them almost as three to one. They must beat a retreat as best they could. Matthias was perplexed. What was he to do? Father Laurence had better be sent for – part of his commission, in the brief appointing him, was to give advice when advice was needed.
Laurence came into the council, his heart still burning with the words from which he had been preaching to the soldiers, “Fear ye not, and be not dismayed. Tomorrow you shall go out against them, and the Lord will be with you.” (2 Paral. 20:17) He made short work of the waverers; and, indeed, there was something about his certainty of victory different from mere human certainty, and making their halting policy look foolish and out of place. They decided to give battle.
On the day of battle a monk was again or horseback, cross in hand, in advance of the front rank. No need to say the monk was Father Laurence. He speaks a few words that he knows so well how to drive straight home to a soldier’s heart, and with a fury that baffles all description they charge upon the infidel. The Turks were not so easily broken, and for hours the battle raged fast and furiously, till at last a final charge from the Christian side broke up the Turkish ranks, and they fled in extreme confusion. The Christian forces got possession of the rising: ground – seized all their large artillery, and by evening had gained a decisive victory. That was October 11th, 1601.
“St. Lawrence of Brindisi at the Battle of Albareale” by Giuseppe Grandi (1843-1894) Italian, Pinacoteca, Vatican City, Rome, Italy.
Decisive as the battle was, Mahomet III would not recognise as yet that he had been hopelessly defeated. Three days afterwards he hazarded another battle. It was on this occasion (not on the 11th as Rohrbacher represents) that our Saint in a moment of reverie or prayer, was hurried by his horse into the thick of the fray, and before he had time to collect himself, he was surrounded by the enemy. Two colonels, Bosbourg and Attain, rescued him. This was no place for him, they reminded him, and begged him to go to the rear. “This is my place,” was his answer, “and here I will stay. Soldiers, another charge.” Quick as lightning they charged, and, before long, panic had seized the Turks, and another Christian victory had been won. When Mahomet recrossed the Danube, he had lost thirty thousand pf his finest soldiers – “Next to God and Our Lady,” said De Mercurio, second in command to Matthias, “we owe that victory to Father Laurence.” And on the day of his beatification (1783) the scene painted over the great door of Saint Peter’s, was the battle of Albareale. Underneath ran the legend, “When Austria was in sorest straits. Blessed Laurence of Brindisi, Cross in hand, struck terror into the enemies of Christ and put them to flight.” One soldier who had witnessed his wonderful power, and no less wonderful escapes, begged to be admitted among his monks as a lay-brother, and as Brother Francis of Gorizia, crowned an edifying life by a saintly death. It is worth noticing, too, that of the many heretical soldiers, who before the battle of the eleventh had made no attempt to conceal their contempt for the soldier-monk, not one was contemptuous or disrespectful when he appeared at their head on the day of the fourteenth. Indeed, many fell on their knees and with the faith and humility of Catholic soldiers begged for a special benediction.
The interior of the Holy House of Mary, Mother of God, as it is today in Loreto, Italy.
However, with the retreat of Mahomet his work, as soldier-priest, was at an end, and he made at once for Italy. A great part of his journey he did on foot, and throughout, he kept his name a strict secret for fear of the enthusiasm his presence would certainly awaken were he once recognised. It was the year of the General Chapter (1602) and he would satisfy his longing to give outward expression to his child-like love for the Blessed Virgin by a visit to Loreto. At Loreto, accordingly, he spent the Lent, serving all the Masses that were said in the Holy House humbly, as though he were still the little Brindisi boy in his Franciscan habit….
Father William Lloyd. “Saint Laurence of Brindisi”. Saints of 1881.
Short Stories on Honor, Chivalry, and the World of Nobility—no. 900
