"I was sick eight years, and afflicted with very considerable hemorrhages. I suffered much and almost continually. I was without strength; I took but little nourishment, and that little increased my malady, which was gradually exhausting me. I do not remember to have had during these eight years, more than eight entire days of relief from pain; the rest of the time I passed on the bed, unable to perform the work necessary to aid my poor husband in supporting the family. I have even been confined to my bed as long as eighteen months without intermission. I consulted several physicians, who prescribed the remedies usual in such cases, but all to no purpose. My husband, not being able to afford such expense, and seeing no hope of my recovery, lost courage and was almost in despair. Some kind persons sought to cheer him: 'You must not be so low-spirited, my poor Bourbonnais, you must bear up under these trials and show your strength of character; your wife is very sick, but she will recover and your friends will not abandon you.' As for myself, seeing that medicines had no effect and cost us a great deal of money, I dispensed with doctors, and was a long time without seeing one, having resigned myself to a slow death.
"A neighbor who understood my position, came one day to see me, and urged me not to give up thus, but to have the physician again. I opposed it, because we had not the wherewith to remunerate him. She then proposed to call in a Sister of Charity. I observed that not being in want, perhaps the Sisters would refuse to come, as it might thus deprive of their services, others more unfortunate than myself. This good lady insisted, and I yielded.
"Next morning, I received a visit from Sister Marie (of St. Vincent de Paul's parish), who brought me some assistance, encouraged me to support my sufferings, and did her best to console me. I can truly say that happiness entered my house with this good Sister. She soon sent a physician, who, after examining me and understanding my case, told her, as I have since learned, that it was a hopeless one, I had a very little while to live, and ought to be sent to the hospital to spare my family the sad spectacle of my death. Hearing this, Sister Marie believed it her duty to give my soul especial attention. I was not an enemy to religion, but I was not very practical; I went sometimes to the parish functions, when my sufferings and occupations permitted, but (and I say it to my shame) I had not approached the Sacraments for years. When the Sister, after several other questions, asked me if I went to confession, blushing, I said 'no.' She begged me to do so, and I replied: 'When I am cured, I will.' The good Sister, little satisfied with my evasive answer, urged me again to see a priest. 'Sister,' said I, 'I don't like to be persecuted with things of this sort, when I am cured I will go to confession.' I saw that this answer grieved her, but she never remitted her visits and kind attentions. My malady increased. One Saturday or Sunday night, at the commencement of October, 1834, my whole body was cold, and vainly did my friends endeavor to restore a natural warmth, the chill of death seemed on me. They spoke of reciting the prayers for the dying; I understood a part of what was said, but myself was speechless. Whilst I was so ill, my husband told our eldest daughter to go to bed, and he, thinking me easier because I was feebly breathing, threw himself, without undressing, upon the bed to snatch a little repose; but, getting up a few minutes later, he came to me, put his hand on my face, and was horrified to find it covered with a cold sweat. He thought me dead, and called aloud: 'Euphemie,' (this is our eldest daughter's name), 'Euphemie, alas! thy mother is dead!' Euphemie arose and mingled her lamentations with those of her father. Their cries awakened Madame Pellevé, our neighbor, who came to console them. 'Ah! madame,' said my husband, on seeing her, 'my wife is dead!' Having begged him to be resigned to God's will, this lady approached me, and, placing her hand upon my heart: 'No,' she exclaimed, 'she is not dead, her heart still beats.' They kindled a fire, and succeeded in restoring a little warmth to my body.
"Madame Pellevé went betimes to inform Sister Marie of all this, and the latter hastened to tell the physician. 'I am not at all surprised,' he answered; 'this lady has two incurable diseases. Besides these hemorrhages, she is in the last stage of consumption, as I have already told you, and if not dead before this, she will not live through the day.' My chest had, indeed, been very weak for some time, and the physicians in consultation had all said I could never be cured.
"At two o'clock in the afternoon I received a visit from Sister Marie, who found me not quite so ill; I could speak. 'Do you love the Blessed Virgin very much?' said she. 'Yes, Sister,' I had indeed always practiced some devotion in honor of this good Mother. 'If you love her very much, I can give you something to cure you.' 'Oh! yes, I shall soon be well.' I spoke of death, for I felt that it was near. Then she showed me a medal and said: 'Take this medal of the Blessed Virgin, who will cure you, if you have great confidence in her.' The sight of the medal filled me with joy; I took it and kissed it fervently, for I truly longed to be cured. The Sister now recited aloud the little prayer which I could not read, and urged me to repeat it daily; I promised to add five Paters and five Aves. She then put the medal around my neck. At that instant, there passed through me a new, strange feeling, a general revolution in my whole body, a thrill through all my members. It was not a painful sensation, on the contrary, I began to shed tears of joy. I was not cured, but I felt that I was going to be cured, and I experienced a confidence that came not from myself.
"Sister Marie left me in this state; after her departure, my husband who had remained motionless at the foot of my bed said: 'Put all your confidence in the Blessed Virgin; we are going to make a novena for you.' Towards evening I could raise myself up in bed, which was very astonishing, considering my extreme exhaustion, but a few hours previous. On Tuesday I requested some broth, which was given me at last, and a little while after I took some soup. My strength returned; I felt that I was cured. Finally, on Thursday, I wished to go to church to thank the Blessed Virgin. This suggestion was opposed, but I insisted and at length went. Whilst on the way and alone (for I preferred going by myself), I met Sister Marie, who did not recognize me; I took her hand: 'Oh!' said she, 'it is really yourself!' 'Yes, Sister, it is I indeed; I am going to Mass: I am cured!' 'And what has cured you so quickly?' 'The Blessed Virgin, and I am going to thank her.' The Sister was lost in astonishment. I recounted to her how it had all come about in less than three days, and I kept on to church and heard Mass. Since then, I have had no return of my malady; I enjoy good health; I go about my duties, performing a regular day's work, and to the Miraculous Medal am I indebted for it all."
Not only Madame Péron's body but her soul, did the Blessed Virgin restore to health; she soon chose a Director and went to confession, and she has continued to do so ever since; her life is really very edifying. As she deeply regrets having lived so long estranged from God, her greatest happiness now is in frequently approaching the Sacraments; two things awaken her tears, the recollection of her past life, and gratitude for her twofold recovery.
Nor is this all; the Blessed Virgin seems to have chosen this family for the purpose of displaying in it the wonders of her power. Madam Péron had a daughter aged sixteen, who, after her mother's recovery, gave herself to God in an especial manner, employing in exercises of piety, all her leisure moments, and edifying her companions in the parish confraternity, whenever she could take part in their devotions for she lived in another quarter.
The father also was deeply touched at the favors accorded his wife; he wears the medal, and he has experienced its blessed effects.
Madame Péron has still another daughter, a little girl six years and a-half old, who had great difficulty in speaking, or rather, who did not speak at all, although she was not mute. Her utterance was so impeded, that she scarcely ever finished a word, thus disconcerting the most patient. It was so much the more deplorable, as she was quite a bright child. 'What a pity she does not talk!' said everyone who witnessed her infirmity. When Sister Marie saw this little girl, 'Why do you not send her to school,' said she to the mother, 'instead of keeping her home all day?' 'You hear how she talks,' answered the mother, who did not like to have her child's infirmity exposed. However, she yielded to the Sister's wishes, and little Hortense was sent to the Sister's parish school. Her imperfect speech did not improve, it would sometimes take her five minutes to pronounce half a word. Some days after, Sister Marie, who deeply pitied the child, spoke to her mother of a novena for curing this defect. "Cure Hortense, Sister! it is impossible, it is a natural defect!" The Sister, with increasing anxiety insisted. The novena was commenced on Saturday; it consisted in hearing Mass every day, and reciting a few prayers in honor of the Blessed Virgin. The medal was hung around the little girl's neck, and she was to take part in all the exercises of the novena. For several days there was no change, but Thursday after the Mass of the Blessed Sacrament, Hortense, on leaving church, could speak as distinctly and with as much ease as any one. Those who first heard her were struck with admiration, the news soon spread, and from all sides came persons to see her; they questioned her, and the child answered, they scanned her to see if it were really the same, and recognizing her, they returned, saying: "This is certainly a great miracle, a sudden cure of a natural defect!"
Little Hortense, showing her medal with delight, would say to all who knew and congratulated her: "The Blessed Virgin has cured me."
In thanksgiving for so great a benefit, the child was consecrated to Mary on the 21st of November, Feast of the Presentation, in the same chapel where the apparition of the medal took place, and, in commemoration of this great event of her life, she was to wear only blue and white until her First Communion. Previous to this ceremony, she made her confession, with every evidence of understanding thoroughly the importance of the act. When asked if she loves the Blessed Virgin, "Oh! yes," she answers, "I love her with more than all my heart!" an expression invented, it seems, solely by the fulness of her gratitude. She prizes her brass medal so highly, that she would not exchange it for one of silver or gold, and she wishes it put in the tomb with her when she dies. "We hope, Hortense," said her father not long ago, (he always finds a new pleasure in hearing her talk), "we hope, when you die, that you will leave us this medal as a souvenir of yourself and a relic of the Blessed Virgin." "Certainly, papa, if it gives you so much pleasure, but I promised the Blessed Virgin, the day of my consecration, that the medal should never leave me, but should even descend with me into the tomb when I died."
We publish these details, with the cordial approbation of this family, fully imbued with ever increasing gratitude to Mary Immaculate.
These two accounts have been confirmed by nine other persons.