Chapter VIII. On the spiritual favours obtained by the use of the medal

The greater number of favours obtained during our own times, by means of St. Benedict’s medal, have reference to the instantaneous conversion of sinners, who had been callous to all that had previously been tried, in order to bring them to God. We will mention a few of these instances.

In a provincial town of France, there was living a gentleman in very comfortable circumstances, who had once held a Government appointment. His sister, an exceedingly pious widowed lady, nursed him with the most affectionate care during his frequent attacks of illness, but was, above all, most anxious to induce her dear brother to think upon doing something for his salvation. Hitherto, all her efforts had been fruitless. No matter how gentle or indirect her attempts, they were all met with this cold answer, “ Do not talk to me about seeing a priest: I cannot bear to hear the subject mentioned.” The sister went, at last, to a friend, and told him in confidence of her trouble, and he said to her, “ Pay no attention to your brother’s answer ; persevere in your entreaties. If by your silence you suffer him to fall into hell, he would surely not excuse you.” In this way several years elapsed.

In the December of 1846, after a short illness, there were evidences of gangrene ; the doctors not only pronounced such to be the case, but moreover, that an operation would be useless, and finally, that the sick man could not live two days longer. The friend who had advised the sister not to be deterred by the words of her brother, one day came to see her. She was overwhelmed with grief, but declared, that not even now, had she the courage to put the question to him. “Well, then,” says the friend, “take these two medals of St. Benedict: keep one for yourself that the devil may not hinder you from doing your duty, and put the other under your brother’s pillow.” She took his advice, and five minutes had scarcely passed, when the following conversation took place between the brother and sister : — “ Dear sister ! ” said the sick man. “ Well, brother, what is it?” “My dear sister, do you not think it would be right to send for the priest ? ” The priest was accordingly sent for, and soon arrived : the sick man received him with joy, and all the rites of the Church were administered. Two days after he died in the most edifying dispositions.

In 1854, in an hospital of incurables, there was a woman advanced in years, who was almost entirely paralysed, and quite bedridden. With no more religion about her than that of an impious lunatic, she would utter at times such disgusting language and such horrid blasphemies, that many persons looked upon her as one possessed by the devil. There were reasons for suspecting that she kept near her certain articles, which prompted her to all this wickedness. It happened that on a day, when the ward had to undergo a thorough cleaning, she was obliged to be taken from her bed, and put for the time in a room near at hand. She screamed, or rather howled, with rage, but she was obliged to yield. The nuns of the hospital found under the mattress a bag filled with objects of a most suspicious character. They took it away, and put in its place a medal of St. Benedict. In an hour or so the poor woman was carried back to her bed, without of course being told of what had been done. Scarcely, however, did she come near the bed than she began to abuse the sisters for having taken away her treasure, of which no doubt the devil took care to tell her. In spite of all this, she was laid on the bed, when suddenly her screaming ceased, and she became as quiet as a lamb. The hideous look she ordinarily put on was changed into one of joy. The poor creature then asked for a priest. A few days after the infirmary was arranged as a chapel, prettily lit up, and flowers placed here and there, to receive our Lord, who was coming to, comfort and cure this soul, now set free, like a captive bird, from the snares of hell.

In 1859, a poor woman was telling her troubles to a person, who knew something of the efficacy, with which our Lord has enriched the medal of St. Benedict. Her husband, though a clever workman, was a great drunkard. All they earned was regularly spent at the end of the week, and, of course, there was nothing in the house but wretchedness. The person to whom she spoke gave her one of the medals, advising her to touch with it the bottle of wine, which she put before her husband at meals, though she herself was obliged to be satisfied with water. When he had tasted the wine, he exclaimed, “What wretched stuff! give me some water, for it is better than such wine as this. I will make up for it after. ,, When he had finished his dinner, he made his wife give him some money, and went to his old place, the neighbouring publichouse, from which he was always accustomed to come back home, late at night, intoxicated. In about a quarter of an hour he came home, telling his wife that he was sure this was a plot against him, for the wine at the tavern was worse than their own. It was a happy night for both. Next day, and the next few days, water was the only beverage the poor man could bear to touch. When this much was gained, his wife, who was an excellent Christian, had not much difficulty in persuading him to fulfil henceforward his religious duties.

In the same year, 1859/ at T , there was a woman, eighty years old, who had declared that she was determined to die without going to confession ; it was upwards of sixty years since she had been to the Sacraments. The priest, who was asked by a friend to visit her, was prepared for a refusal. A medal was put into the priest’s hand, and the person who gave

Google it to him said, “ Go, and fear not.” On his entering her room, the old lady turned her face towards the wall, saying aloud that she intended going to sleep. u Do so,” replied the priest, “ but take this medal, I beg of you, and meanwhile I will say a little prayer.” He knelt down by the bedside, and before he had time to finish the Memorare, the old lady turned towards him, told her relatives to leaye the room, and began her confession.

On the 14th of March, 1859, a pi° us layman happened to meet in the street a priest, who was much distressed about a young man of seventeen who had come home from Paris so ill, that the doctor was of opinion that he could not live many days. The priest had been three times to the house, but the family would not receive him. The layman on hearing this, spoke to him about the wonderful efficacy of St. Benedict’s medal, gave him one, and encouraged him to make another trial. The priest went, and at first met with the same reception. He then brought forth the medal, which he said he washed to give to the young man. “ Oh, if that is all,” said the person, who was speaking to him, “ you may come in.” Finally, he got into the room of tlie young man, who no sooner saw him than he hid his face in the bedclothes. “ My dear friend,” said the priest, “ accept this little present from me.” Immediately he uncovered his face, and began his confession with the most admirable sentiments of contrition.

In i860, an old man was received into one of the

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Paris hospitals, and falling seriously ill there, it was evident that he had but a very short time to live. He was a Protestant. The sisters, who had the care of the hospital, seeing that there was no chance of his recovery, lost no time in making every possible effort to secure to him the life of the soul. For this end they had made novena after novena; private and general communions had been offered up, and they had got a great many masses said. It seemed, however, to be all of no avail. It happened one Sunday, that a friend having come to the hospital to visit the sick, and being informed of the poor Protestant who was so near death, advised them to give the sick man a medal of St. Benedict, and in case he should refuse it, to put it under his pillow. The advice was instantly followed, and the medal was put round the neck of the dying man. The next time the same person came to the hospital, he had the consolation of hearing, that the very Sunday he advised them to use the medal, the Protestant had asked at twelve o’clock at night to be received into the Church. They offered to send for either of the two nearest parish priests, but he refused, saying that he would prefer the chaplain of the house, whom he happened to know. This latter, not having the faculties necessary for receiving the sick man’s abjuration or for absolving him from heresy, leave was obliged to be sent for to the Archbishop, so that in spite of all the diligence that was used, it was not possible to administer the Sacraments to the sick man before nine o’clock the next morning. The old man received all the rites of the Church with great devotion, and died tranquilly in the evening of the same day.

An English Puseyite minister, a young man full of information, happened to be at T in 1861. He was fond of controversy, and had therefore sought an introduction to three parsons who had become zealous converts, and lived out in the country not far from the town. For nine days had the amicable discussion been going on with no result. The tenth day, May 14th, was fixed by Divine Providence for the close of these disputes, which were destined to prepare the way for an extraordinary conversion. The Puseyite minister was going back to the town, and one of his three friends being obliged to take a party of children to see the circus, which was at that time being exhibited in a field adjoining the market-place, invited him to go there with them. He did so. They reached the circus and took their tickets. Whilst the children were enjoying the amusements, our two controversialists resumed their discussion, and as their neighbours could not understand them, they were under no restraints. The entertainment was about half over, when the Puseyite interrupted the dispute, saying, “ I have had quite enough ; let us have no more: you can never convince me.” Thus abruptly silenced, his Catholic friend was going to give all up, when he suddenly bethought himself of the wonderful things he had heard regarding the medal of St. Benedict, and taking off the one he wore, he begged his friend to accept it. The Puseyite holds out his hand and takes the medal. For several minutes there was silence on both sides. Meanwhile the Catholic was praying. Suddenly the Puseyite broke the silence with these words : “ My dear friend, I have done wrong by holding all these long disputes. The light now beams upon me, and I wish without delay to be received into the Church.” Accordingly, he made his profession of faith five days after, and the Church numbered one more in the fold of Christ.

In the town of Noyon, in France, there was a pious workwoman, who was in great trouble on account of her mother being out of her mind, and having fits from time to time, during which she was perfectly furious. People who brought work to the daughter were afraid of the poor mad mother, who would sometimes seize anything she could get hold of in the room, and throw it out of the window. There was every reason for fearing that some day or other she would destroy herself. This state of things went on for several years. But there was nothing which so afflicted the daughter as the impossibility of her mother ever getting to confession, which was the more distressing as this state of madness had seized the poor creature so suddenly, that she had not had the opportunity of settling the affairs of her conscience. In the year 1861, a pious Christian happened to give her a medal of St. Benedict, which she contrived to put round her mother’s neck. The same instant all her madness ceased — she took the medal and kissed it unceasingly. Soon after, she made her confession in the most edifying manner. Since then, she has

D continued to be as gentle and quiet as a lamb, and though the infirmities of old age now oblige her to keep her bed, she never gives way to anything like impatience, and there seems to be every likelihood of her dying a happy death . 1

1 See Life of St. Benedict, chap, xxxviii.

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