Dreams and Visions of Saint John Bosco:
H E L L
 
I. INTRODUCTION
 
 Many of the dreams of St. John Bosco could more properly be called
visions, for God used this means to reveal His will for the Saint and
for the boys of the Oratory, as well as the future of the Salesian
Congregation. Not only did his dreams lead and direct the Saint, they
also gave him wisdom and guidance by which he was able to help and
guide others upon their ways. He was just nine years of age when he
had his first dream that laid out his life mission. It was this dream
that impressed Pope Pius IX so much that he ordered St. John Bosco to
write down his dreams for the encouragement of his Congregation and
the rest of us. Through dreams God allowed him to know the future of
each of the boys of his Oratory. Through dreams God let him know the
boys' state of their souls. On February 1, 1865 St. John Bosco
announced that one of the boys will die soon. He knew the boy through
the dream the night before. On March 16, 1865, Anthony Ferraris passed
away after receiving the Last Sacraments. John Bisio, who helped
Anthony and his mother during the former's last hour, confirmed the
story of his part in this episode by a formal oath, concluding as
foIlows: "Don Bosco told us many other dreams concerning Oratory
boys' deaths. We believed them to be true prophecies. We still do,
because unfailingly they came true. During the seven years I lived at
the Oratory, not a boy died without Don Bosco predicting his death. We
were also convinced that whoever died there under his care and
assistance surely went to heaven." (p. 201)
 
 St. John Bosco had many dreams of prophecies concerning the future
of the Roman Catholic Church and of his Congregation. Below is an
excerpt from the book Dreams, Visions & Prophecies of Don Bosco
edited by Rev. Eugene M. Brown, Don Bosco Publications, New Rochelle,
New York, 1986, pp. 211-227. The Scriptural quotations are from the
1883 Douay-Rheims Bible.
 
 One word of caution in interpreting dreams. The Holy Scripture tells
us not to put our trust in dreams unless they come from God. The
dreams of evil doers are just vanity. They are deceitful because true
visions cannot come from falsehood. Vision of dreams resembles a
mirror. When a soiled face appears in front of a mirror, the latter
reflects a soiled face, not a clean face:
 
 The hopes of a man that is void of understanding are vain and
deceitful: and dreams lift up fools. The man that giveth heed to
lying visions, is like to him that catcheth at a shadow, and
followeth after the wind. The vision of dreams is the resemblance of
one thing to another: as when a man's likeness is before the face of
a man. What truth can come from that which is false ? Deceitful
divinations, and lying omens, and the dreams of evil doers, are
vanity. And the heart fancieth as that of a woman in travail: except
it be a vision sent forth from the Most High, set not thy heart upon
them. For dreams have deceived many, and they have failed that put
their trust in them. (Ecclesiasticus 34: 1-7)
 
II. VISION OF HELL
 
On Sunday night, May 3 [1868], the feast of Saint Joseph's patronage,
Don Bosco resumed the narration of his dreams:
 
I have another dream to tell you, a sort of aftermath of those I told
you last Thursday and Friday which totally exhausted me. Call them
dreams or whatever you like. Always, as you know, on the night of
April 17 a frightful toad seemed bent on devouring me. When it
finally vanished, a voice said to me: "Why don't you tell them?" I
turned in that direction and saw a distinguished person standing by
my bed. Feeling guilty about my silence, I asked: "What should I tell
my boys?"
 
"What you have seen and heard in your last dreams and what you have
wanted to know and shall have revealed to you tomorrow night!" He
then vanished.
 
I spent the whole next day worrying about the miserable night in
store for me, and when evening came, loath to go to bed, I sat at my
desk browsing through books until midnight. The mere thought of
having more nightmares thoroughly scare me. However, with great
effort, I finally went to bed.
 
 "Get up and follow me!" he said.
 
 "For Heaven's sake," I protested, "leave me alone. I am exhausted!
I've been tormented by a toothache for several day now and need rest.
Besides, nightmares have completely worn me out." I said this because
this man's apparition always means trouble, fatigue, and terror for
me.
 
 "Get up," he repeated. "You have no time to lose."
 
 I complied and followed him. "Where are you taking me?" I asked.
 
 "Never mind. You'll see." He led me to a vast, boundless plain,
veritably a lifeless desert, with not a soul in sight or a tree or
brook. Yellowed, dried-up vegetation added to the desolation I had no
idea where I was or what was I to do. For a moment I even lost sight
of my guide and feared that I was lost, utterly alone. Father Rua,
Father Francesia, nowhere to be seen. When I finally saw my friend
coming toward me, I sighed in relief.
 
 "Where am I?" I asked.
 
 "Come with me and you will find out!"
 
 "All right. I'll go with you."
 
 He led the way and I followed in silence, but after a long, dismal
trudge, I began worrying whether I would ever be able to cross that
vast expanse, what with my toothache and swollen legs. Suddenly I saw
a road ahead. "Where to now?" I asked my guide.
 
 "This way," he replied.
 
 We took the road. It was beautiful, wide, and neatly paved. "The way
of sinners is made plain with stones, and in their end is hell, and
darkness, and pains. " (Ecclesiasticus 21: 11, stones: broad and
easy.) Both sides were lined with magnificent verdant hedges dotted
with gorgeous flowers. Roses, especially, peeped everywhere through
the leaves. At first glance, the road was level and comfortable, and
so I ventured upon it without the least suspicion, but soon I noticed
that it insensibly kept sloping downward. Though it did not look steep
at all, I found myself moving so swiftly that I felt I was
effortlessly gliding through the air. Really, I was gliding and
hardly using my feet. Then the thought struck me that the return trip
would be very long and arduous.
 
 "How shall we get back to the Oratory?" I asked worriedly.
 
 "Do not worry," he answered. "The Almighty wants you to go. He who
leads you on will also know how to lead you back."
 
 The road is sloping downward. As we were continuing on our way,
flanked by banks of roses and other flowers, I became aware that the
Oratory boys and very many others whom I did not know were following
me. Somehow I found myself in their midst. As I was looking at them,
I noticed now one, now another fall to the ground and instantly be
dragged by an unseen force toward a frightful drop, distantly
visible, which sloped into a furnace. "What makes these boys fall?" I
asked my companion. "The proud have hidden a net for me. And they have
stretched out cords for a snare: they have laid for me a
stumbling-block by the wayside." (Psalms 139: 6)
 
 "Take a closer look," he replied.
 
 I did. Traps were everywhere, some close to the ground, others at
eye level, but all well concealed. Unaware of their danger, many boys
got caught, and they tripped, they would sprawl to the ground, legs in
the air. Then, when they managed to get back on their feet, they would
run headlong down the road toward the abyss. Some got trapped by the
head, others by the neck, hand, arms, legs, or sides, and were pulled
down instantly. The ground traps, fine as spiders' webs and hardly
visible, seemed very flimsy and harmless; yet, to my surprise, every
boy they snared fell to the ground.
 
 Noticing my astonishment, the guide remarked, "Do you know what this
is?"
 
 "Just some filmy fiber," I answered.
 
 "A mere nothing," he said, "just plain human respect.",
 
 Seeing that many boys were being caught in those straps. I asked,
"Why do so many get caught? Who pulls them down?"
 
 "Go nearer and you will see!" he told me.
 
 I followed his advice but saw nothing peculiar.
 
 "Look closer," he insisted.
 
 I picked up one of the traps and tugged. I immediately felt some
resistance. I pulled harder, only to feel that, instead of drawing
the thread closer, I was being pulled down myself. I did not resist
and soon found myself at the mouth of a frightful cave. I halted,
unwilling to venture into that deep cavern, and again started pulling
the thread toward me. It gave a little, but only through great effort
on my part. I kept tugging, and after a long while a huge, hideous
monster emerged, clutching a rope to which all those traps were tied
together. He was the one who instantly dragged down anyone who got
caught in them. It won't do to match my strength with his, I said to
myself. I'll certainly lose. I'd better fight him with the Sign of
the Cross and with short invocations.
 
 Then I went back to my guide. "Now you know who he is," he said to
me.
 
 "I surely do! It is the devil himself!"
 
 Carefully examining many of the traps, I saw that each bore an
inscription: Pride, Disobedience, Envy, Sixth Commandment, Theft,
Gluttony, Sloth, Anger and so on. Stepping back a bit to see which
ones trapped the greater number of boys, I discovered that the most
dangerous were those of impurity, disobedience, and pride. In fact,
these three were linked to together. Many other traps also did great
harm, but not as much as the first two. Still watching, I noticed
many boys running faster than others. "Why such haste?" I asked.
 
 "Because they are dragged by the snare of human respect."
 
 Looking even more closely, I spotted knives among the traps. A
providential hand had put them there for cutting oneself free. The
bigger ones, symbolizing meditation, were for use against the trap of
pride; others, not quite as big, symbolized spiritual reading well
made. There were also two swords representing devotion to the Blessed
Sacrament, especially through frequent Holy Communion, and to the
Blessed Virgin. There was also a hammer symbolizing confession, and
other knives signifying devotion to Saint Joseph, to Saint Aloysius,
and to other Saints. By these means quite a few boys were able to
free themselves or evade capture.
 
 Indeed I saw some lads walking safely through all those traps,
either by good timing before the trap sprung on them or by making it
slip off them if they got caught.
 
 When my guide was satisfied that I had observed everything, he made
me continue along that rose-hedged road, but the farther we went the
scarcer the roses became. Long thorns began to show up, and soon the
roses were no more. The hedges became sun-scorched, leafless, and
thorn-studded. Withered branches torn from the bushes lay
criss-crossed along the roadbed, littering it with thorns and making
it impassable. We had come now to a gulch whose steep sides hid what
lay beyond. The road, still sloping downward, was becoming ever more
horrid, rutted, guttered, and bristling with rocks and boulders. I
lost track of all my boys, most of whom had left this treacherous
road for other paths.
 
 I kept going, but the farther I advanced, the more arduous and steep
became the descent, so that I tumbled and fell several times, lying
prostrate until I could catch my breath. Now and then my guide
supported me or helped me to rise. At every step my joints seemed to
give way, and I thought my shinbones would snap. Panting, I said to
my guide, "My good fellow, my legs won't carry me another step. I
just can't go any farther."
 
 He did not answer but continued walking. Taking heart, I followed
until, seeing me soaked in perspiration and thoroughly exhausted, he
led me to a little clearing alongside the road. I sat down, took a
deep breath, and felt a little better. From my resting place, the
road I had already traveled looked very steep, jagged, and strewn
with loose stones, but what lay ahead seemed so much worse that I
closed my eyes in horror.
 
 "Let's go back," I pleaded. "If we go any farther, how shall we ever
get back to the Oratory? I will never make it up this slope."
 
 "Now that we have come so far, do you want me to leave you here?" my
guide sternly asked.
 
 At this threat, I wailed, "How can I survive without your help?"
 
 "Then follow me."
 
 We continued our descent, the road now becoming so frightfully steep
that it was almost impossible to stand erect. And then, at the bottom
of this precipice, at the entrance of a dark valley, an enormous
building loomed into sight, its towering portal, tightly locked,
facing our road. When I finally got to the bottom, I became smothered
by a suffocating heat, while a greasy, green-tinted smoke lit by
flashes of scarlet flames rose from behind those enormous walls which
loomed higher than mountains.
 
 "Where are we? What is this?" I asked my guide.
 
 "Read the inscription on that portal and you will know."
 
 I looked up and read these words: "The place of no reprieve." I
realized that we were at the gates of Hell. The guide led me all
around this horrible place. At regular distance bronze portals like
the first overlooked precipitous descents; on each was an
inscription, such as: "Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting
fire, which was prepared for the devil and his angels." (Matthew 25:
41) "Every tree that yielded not good fruit, shall be cut down, and
shall be cast into the the fire." (Matthew 7: 19)
 
 I tried to copy them into my notebook, but my guide restrained me:
"There is no need. You have them all in Holy Scripture. You even have
some of them inscribed in your porticoes."
 
 At such a sight I wanted to turn back and return to the Oratory. As
a matter of fact, I did start back, but my guide ignored my attempt.
After trudging through a steep, never-ending ravine, we again came to
the foot of the precipice facing the first portal. Suddenly the guide
turned to me. Upset and startled, he motioned to me to step aside.
"Look!" he said.
 
 I looked up in terror and saw in the distance someone racing down
the path at an uncontrollable speed. I kept my eyes on him, trying to
identify him, and as he got closer, I recognized him as one of my
boys. His disheveled hair was partly standing upright on his head and
partly tossed back by the wind. His arms were outstretched as though
he were thrashing the water in an attempt to stay afloat. He wanted
to stop, but could not. Tripping on the protruding stones, he kept
falling even faster. "Let's help him, let's stop him," I shouted,
holding out my hands in a vain effort to restrain him.
 
 "Leave him alone," the guide replied.
 
 "Why?"
 
 "Don't you know how terrible God's vengeance is? Do you think you
can restrain one who is fleeing from His just wrath?"
 Meanwhile the youth had turned his fiery gaze backward in an attempt
to see if God's wrath were still pursuing him. The next moment he fell
tumbling to the bottom of the ravine and crashed against the bronze
portal as though he could find no better refuge in his flight.
 
 "Why was he looking backward in terror?" I asked.
 
 "Because God's wrath will pierce Hell's gates to reach and torment
him even in the midst of fire!"
 
 As the boy crashed into the portal, it sprang open with a roar, and
instantly a thousand inner portals opened with a deafening clamor as
if struck by a body that had been propelled by an invisible, most
violent, irresistible gale. As these bronze doors -- one behind the
other, though at a considerable distance from each other -- remained
momentarily open, I saw far into the distance something like furnace
jaws sprouting fiery balls the moment the youth hurtled into it. As
swiftly as they had opened, the portals then clanged shut again. For
a third time I tried to jot down the name of that unfortunate lad,
but the guide again restrained me. "Wait," he ordered. "Watch!"
 
 Three other boys of ours, screaming in terror and with arms
outstretched, were rolling down one behind the other like massive
rocks, I recognized them as they too crashed against the portal. In
that split second, it sprang open and so did the other thousand. The
three lads were sucked into that endless corridor amid a long-drawn,
fading, infernal echo, and then the portals clanged shut again. At
intervals, many other lads came tumbling down after them. I saw one
unlucky boy being pushed down the slope by an evil companion. Others
fell singly or with others, arm in arm or side by side. Each of them
bore the name of his sin on his forehead. I kept calling to them as
they hurtled down, but they did not hear me. Again the portals would
open thunderously and slam shut with a rumble. Then, dead silence!
 
 "Bad companions, bad books, and bad habits," my guide exclaimed,
"are mainly responsible for so many eternally lost."
 
 The traps I had seen earlier were indeed dragging the boys to ruin.
Seeing so many going to perdition, I cried out disconsolately, "If so
many of our boys end up this way, we are working in vain. How can we
prevent such tragedies?"
 
 "This is their present state," my guide replied, "and that is where
they would go if they were to die now."
 
 "Then let me jot down their names so that I may warn them and put
them back on the path to Heaven."
 
 "Do you really believe that some of them would reform if you were to
warn them? Then and there your warning might impress them, but soon
they will forget it, saying, 'It was just a dream,' and they will do
worse than before. Others, realizing they have been unmasked, receive
the sacraments, but this will be neither spontaneous nor meritorious;
others will go to confession because of a momentary fear of Hell but
will still be attached to sin."
 
 "Then is there no way to save these unfortunate lads? Please, tell
me what I can do for them."
 
 "They have superiors; let them obey them. They have rules; let them
observe them. They have the sacraments; let them receive them."
 
 Just then a new group of boys came hurtling down and the portals
momentarily opened. "Let's go in," the guide said to me.
 
 I pulled back in horror. I could not wait to rush back to the
Oratory to warn the boys lest others might be lost as well.
 
 "Come," my guide insisted. "You'll learn much. But first tell me: Do
you wish to go alone or with me?" He asked this to make me realize
that I was not brave enough and therefore needed his friendly
assistance.
 
 "Alone inside that horrible place?" I replied. "How will I ever be
able to find my way out without your help?" Then a thought came to my
mind and aroused my courage. Before one is condemned to Hell, I said
to myself, he must be judged. And I haven't been judged yet!
 
 "Let's go," I exclaimed resolutely. We entered that narrow, horrible
corridor and whizzed through it with lightning speed. Threatening
inscriptions shone eerily over all the inner gateways. The last one
opened into a vast, grim courtyard with a large, unbelievably
forbidding entrance at the far end. Above it stood this inscription:
"These shall go into everlasting punishment." (Matthew 25: 46) The
walls all about were similarly inscribed. I asked my guide if I could
read them, and he consented. These were the inscriptions:
 
 "He will give fire, and worms into their flesh, and they may burn
and may feel forever." (Judith 16: 21)
 
 "The pool of fire where both the beast and the false prophet shall
be tormented day and night forever and ever." (Apocalypse 20: 9-10)
 
 "And the smoke of their torments shall ascend up forever and ever."
(Apocalypse 14: 11)
 
 "A land of misery and darkness, where the shadow of death, and no
order, but everlasting horror dwelleth." (Job 10: 22)
 
 "There is no peace to the wicked." (Isaias 47: 22)
 
 "There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth." (Matthew 8:12)
 
 While I moved from one inscription to another, my guide, who had
stood in the center of the courtyard, came up to me.
 
 "From here on," he said, "no one may have a helpful companion, a
comforting friend, a loving heart, a compassionate glance, or a
benevolent word. All this is gone forever. Do you just want to see or
would you rather experience these things yourself?"
 
 "I only want to see!" I answered.
 
 "Then come with me," my friend added, and, taking me in tow, he
stepped through that gate into a corridor at whose far end stood an
observation platform, closed by a huge, single crystal pane reaching
from the pavement to the ceiling. As soon as I crossed its threshold,
I felt an indescribable terror and dared not take another step. Ahead
of me I could see something like an immense cave which gradually
disappeared into recesses sunk far into the bowels of the mountains.
They were all ablaze, but theirs was not an earthly fire with leaping
tongues of flames. The entire cave --walls, ceiling, floor, iron,
stones, wood, and coal -- everything was a glowing white at
temperatures of thousands of degrees. Yet the fire did not
incinerate, did not consume. I simply can't find words to describe
the cavern's horror. "The nourishment thereof is fire and much wood:
the breath of the Lord as a torrent of brimstone kindling it."
(Isaias 30: 33)
 
 I was staring in bewilderment about me when a lad dashed out of a
gate. Seemingly unaware of anything else, he emitted a most shrilling
scream, like one who is about to fall into a cauldron of liquid
bronze, and plummeted into the center of the cave. Instantly he too
became incandescent and perfectly motionless, while the echo of his
dying wail lingered for an instant more.
 
 Terribly frightened, I stared briefly at him for a while. He seemed
to be one of my Oratory boys. "Isn't he so and so?" I asked my guide.
 
 "Yes," was the answer.
 
 "Why is he so still, so incandescent?"
 
 "You chose to see," he replied. "Be satisfied with that. Just keep
looking. Besides, "Everyone shall be salted with fire." (Mark 9: 48)
 
 As I looked again, another boy came hurtling down into the cave at
breakneck speed. He too was from the Oratory. A he fell, so he
remained. He too emitted one single heart-rending shriek that blended
with the last echo of the scream that came from the youth who had
preceded him. Other boys kept hurtling in the same way in increasing
numbers, all screaming the same way and then all becoming equally
motionless and incandescent. I noticed that the first seemed frozen
to the spot, one hand and one foot raised into the air; the second
boy seemed bent almost double to the floor. Others stood or hung in
various other positions, balancing themselves on one foot or hand,
sitting or lying on their backs or on their sides, standing or
kneeling, hands clutching their hair. Briefly, the scene resembled a
large statuary group of youngsters cast into ever more painful
postures. Other lads hurtled into that same furnace. Some I knew;
others were strangers to me. I then recalled what is written in the
Bible to the effect that as one falls into Hell, so he shall forever
remain. ". . . in what place soever it shall fall, there shall it
be." (Ecclesiastes 11:3)
 
 More frightened than ever, I asked my guide, "When these boys come
dashing into this cave, don't they know where they are going?"
 
 "They surely do. They have been warned a thousand times, but they
still choose to rush into the fire because they do not detest sin and
are loath to forsake it. Furthermore, they despise and reject God's
incessant, merciful invitations to do penance. Thus provoked, Divine
Justice harries them, hounds them, and goads them on so that they
cannot halt until the reach this place."
 
 "Oh, how miserable these unfortunate boys must feel in knowing they
no longer have any hope," I exclaimed.
 
 "If you really want to know their innermost frenzy and fury, go a
little closer," my guide remarked.
 
 I took a few steps forward and saw that many of those poor wretches
were savagely striking at each other like mad dogs. Others were
clawing their own faces and hands, tearing their own flesh and
spitefully throwing it about. Just then the entire ceiling of the
cave became as transparent as crystal and revealed a patch of Heaven
and their radiant companions safe for all eternity.
 
 The poor wretches, fuming and panting with envy, burned with rage
because they had once ridiculed the just. "The wicked shall see, and
be angry, he shall gnash with his teeth, and pine away. . . " (Psalms
111: 10)
 
 "Why do hear no sound?" I asked my guide,
 
 "Go closer!" he advised.
 
 Pressing my ear to the crystal window, I heard screams and sobs,
blasphemies and imprecations against the Saints. It was a tumult of
voices and cries, shrill and confused.
 
 "When they recall the happy lot of their good companions," he
replied, "they are obliged to admit: "We fools esteemed their life
madness, and their end without honour. Behold, how they are numbered
among the children of God, and their lot is among the saints.
Therefore we have erred from the way of truth, and the light of
justice hath not shined unto us, and the sun of understanding hath
not risen upon us." (Wisdom 5:4-6)
 
 "We wearied ourselves in the way of iniquity and destruction, and
have walked through hard ways, but the way of the Lord we have not
known. What hath pride profited us ? or what advantage hath the
boasting of riches brought us ? All those things are passed away like
a shadow." (Wisdom 5: 7-9)
 
 "Here time is no more. Here is only eternity."
 
 While I viewed the condition of many of my boys in utter terror, a
thought suddenly struck me. "How can these boys be damned?" I asked.
"Last night they were still alive at the Oratory!"
 
 "The boys you see here," he answered, "are all dead to God's grace.
Were they to die now or persist in their evil ways, they would be
damned. But we are wasting time. Let us go on."
 
 He led me away and we went down through a corridor into a lower
cavern, at whose entrance I read: "Their worm shall not die, and
their fire shall not be quenched." (Isaias 66: 24) "He will give
fire, and worms into their flesh, and they may burn and may feel
forever." (Judith 16: 21)
 
 Here one could see how atrocious was the remorse of those who had
been pupils in our schools. What a torment was their, to remember
each unforgiven sin and its just punishment, the countless, even
extraordinary means they had had to mend their ways, persevere in
virtue, and earn paradise, and their lack of response to the many
favors promised and bestowed by the Virgin Mary. What a torture to
think that they couId have been saved so easily, yet now are
irredeemably lost, and to remember the many good resolutions made and
never kept. Hell is indeed paved with good intentions!
 
 In this lower cavern I again saw those Oratory boys who had fallen
into the fiery furnace. Some are listening to me right now; others
are former pupils or even strangers to me. I drew closer to them and
noticed that they were all covered with worms and vermin which gnawed
at their vitals, hearts, eyes, hands, legs, and entire bodies so
ferociously as to defy description. Helpless and motionless, they
were a prey to every kind of torment. Hoping I might be able to speak
with them or to hear something from them, I drew even closer but no
one spoke or even looked at me. I then asked my guide why, and he
explained that the damned are totally deprived of freedom. Each must
fully endure his own punishment, with absolutely no reprieve
whatever.
 
 "And now," he added, "you too must enter that cavern."
 
 "Oh, no!" I objected in terror. "Before going to Hell, one has to be
judged. I have not been judged yet, and so I will not go to Hell!"
 
 "Listen," he said, "what would you rather do: visit Hell and save
your boys, or stay outside and leave them in agony?"
 
 For a moment I was struck speechless. "Of course I love my boys and
wish to save them all," I replied, "but isn't there some other way
out?"
 
 "Yes, there is a way," he went on, "provided you do all you can."
 
 I breathed more easily and instantly said to myself, I don 't mind
slaving if I can rescue these beloved sons of mine from such
torments.
 
 "Come inside then," my friend went on, "and see how our good,
almighty God lovingly provides a thousand means for guiding your boys
to penance and saving them from everlasting death."
 
 Taking my hand, he led me into the cave. As I stepped in, I found
myself suddenly transported into a magnificent hall whose curtained
glass doors concealed more entrances.
 
 Above one of them I read this inscription: The Sixth Commandment.
Pointing to it, my guide exclaimed, "Transgressions of this
commandment caused the eternal ruin of many boys."
 
 "Didn't they go to confession?"
 
 "They did, but they either omitted or insufficiently confessed the
sins against the beautiful virtue of purity, saying for instance that
they had committed such sins two or three times when it was four or
five. Other boys may have fallen into that sin but once in their
childhood, and, through shame, never confessed it or did so
insufficiently. Others were not truly sorry or sincere in their
resolve to avoid it in the future. There were even some who, rather
than examine their conscience, spent their time trying to figure out
how best to deceive their confessor. Anyone dying in this frame of
mind chooses to be among the damned, and so he is doomed for all
eternity. Only those who die truly repentant shall be eternally
happy. Now do you want to see why our merciful God brought you here?"
He lifted the curtain and I saw a group of Oratory boys -- all known
to me -- who were there because of this sin. Among them were some
whose conduct seems to be good.
 
 "Now you will surely let me take down their names so that I may warn
them individually," I exclaimed.
 
 "Then what do you suggest I tell them?"
 
 "Always preach against immodesty. A generic warning will suffice.
Bear in mind that even if you did admonish them individually, they
would promise, but not always in earnest. For a firm resolution, one
needs God's grace which will not be denied to your boys if they pray.
God manifests His power especially by being merciful and forgiving. On
your part, pray and make sacrifices. As for the boys, let them listen
to your admonitions and consult thei conscience. It will tell them
what to do."
 
 We spent the next half hour discussing the requisites of a good
confession. Afterward, my guide several times exclaimed in a loud
voice, "Avertere! Avertere!"
 
 "What do you mean?" I asked.
 
 "Change life! "
 
 Perplexed, I bowed my head and made as if to withdraw, but he held
me back.
 
 "You haven't seen everything yet," he explained.
 
 He turned and lifted another curtain bearing this inscription: "They
who would become rich, fall into temptation, and and to the snare of
the devil." (1 Timothy 6: 9) (Note: would become rich: wish to become
rich, seek riches, set their heart and affections toward riches.)
 
 "This does not apply to my boys! I countered, "because they are as
poor as I am. We are not rich and do not want to be. We give it no
thought."
 
 As the curtain was lifted, however, I saw a group of boys, all known
to me. They were in pain, like those I had seen before. Pointing to
them, my guide remarked, "As you see, the inscription does apply to
your boys."
 
 "But how?" I asked.
 
 "Well," he said, "some boys are so attached to material possessions
that their love of God is lessened. Thus they sin against charity,
piety, and meekness. Even the mere desire of riches can corrupt the
heart, especially if such a desire leads to injustice. Your boys are
poor, but remember that greed and idleness are bad counselors. One of
your boys committed substantial thefts in his native town, and though
he could make restitution, he gives it not a thought. There are
others who try to break into the pantry or the prefect's or
economer's office; those who rummage in their companions' trunks for
food, money, or possessions; those who steal stationery and
books...."
 
 After naming these boys and others as well, he continued, "Some are
here for having stolen clothes, linen, blankets, and coats from the
Oratory wardrobe in order to send them home to their families; others
for willful, serious damage; others, yet, for not having given back
what they had borrowed or for having kept sums of money they were
supposed to hand over to the superior. Now that you know who these
boys are," he concluded, "admonish them. Tell them to curb all vain,
harmful desires, to obey God's law and to safeguard their reputation
jealously lest greed lead them to greater excesses and plunge them
into sorrow, death, and damnation."
 
 I couldn't understand why such dreadful punishments should be meted
out for infractions that boys thought so little of, but my guide
shook me out of my thoughts by saying: "Recall what you were told
when you saw those spoiled grapes on the wine." With these words he
lifted another curtain which hid many of our Oratory boys, all of
whom I recognized instantly. The inscription on the curtain read: The
root of all evils.
 
 "Do you know what that means?" he asked me immediately.
 
 "What sin does that refer to?"
 
 "Pride?"
 
 "No!"
 
 "And yet I have always heard that pride is the root of all evil."
 
 "It is, generally speaking, but, specifically, do you know what led
Adam and Eve to commit the first sin for which they were driven away
from their earthly paradise?"
 
 "Disobedience?"
 
 "Exactly! Disobedience is the root of all evil."
 
 "What shall I tell my boys about it?"
 
 "Listen carefulIy: the boys you see here are those who prepare such
a tragic end for themselves by being disobedient. So-and-so and
so-and-so, who you think went to bed, leave the dormitory later in
the night to roam about the playground, and, contrary to orders, they
stray into dangerous areas and up scaffolds, endangering even their
lives. Others go to church, but, ignoring recommendations, they
misbehave; instead of praying, they daydream or cause a disturbance.
There are also those who make themselves comfortable so as to doze
off during church services, and those who only make believe they are
going to church. Woe to those who neglect prayer! He who does not
pray dooms himself to perdition. Some are here because, instead of
singing hymns or saying the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin, they
read frivolous or -- worse yet -- forbidden books." He then went on
mentioning other serious breaches of discipline.
 
When he was done, I was deeply moved.
 
 "May I mention all these things to my boys?" I asked, looking at him
straight in the eye.
 
 "Yes, you may tell them whatever you remember."
 
 "What advice shall I give them to safeguard them from such a
tragedy?"
 
 "Keep telling them that by obeying God, the Church, their parents,
and their superiors, even in little things, they will be saved."
 
 "Anything else?"
 
 "Warn them against idleness. Because of idleness David fell into
sin. Tell them to keep busy at all times, because the devil will not
then have a chance to tempt them."
 
 I bowed my head and promised. Faint with dismay, I could only
mutter, "Thanks for having been so good to me. Now, please lead me
out of here."
 
 "All right, then, come with me." Encouragingly he took my hand and
held me up because I could hardly stand on my feet. Leaving that
hall, in no time at all we retraced our steps through that horrible
courtyard and the long corridor. But as soon as we stepped across the
last bronze portal, he turned to me and said, "Now that you have seen
what others suffer, you too must experience a touch of Hell."
 
 "No, no!" I cried in terror.
 
 He insisted, but I kept refusing.
 
 "Do not be afraid," he told me; "just try it. Touch this wall."
 
 I could not muster enough courage and tried to get away, but he held
me back. "Try it," he insisted. Gripping my arm firmly, he pulled me
to the wall. "Only one touch," he cornmanded, "so that you may say
you have both seen and touched the walls of eternal suffering and
that you may understand what the last wall must be like if the first
is so unendurable. Look at this wall!"
 
 I did intently. It seemed incredibly thick. "There are a thousand
walls between this and the real fire of Hell," my guide continued. "A
thousand walls encompass it, each a thousand measures thick and
equally distant from the next one. Each measure is a thousand miles.
This wall therefore is millions and millions of miles from Hell's
real fire. It is just a remote rim of Hell itself."
 
 When he said this, I instinctively pulled back, but he seized my
hand, forced it open, and pressed it against the first of the
thousand walls. The sensation was so utterly excruciating that I
leaped back with a scream and found myself sitting up in bed. My hand
was stinging and I kept rubbing it to ease the pain. When I got up
this morning I noticed that it was swollen. Having my hand pressed
against the wall, though only in a dream, felt so real that, later,
the skin of my palm peeled off.
 
 Bear in mind that I have tried not to frighten you very much, and so
I have not described these things in all their horror as I saw them
and as they impressed me. We know that Our Lord always portrayed Hell
in symbols because, had He described it as it really is, we would not
have understood Him. No mortal can comprehend these things. The Lord
knows them and He reveals them to whomever He wills.