Hundreds of worshippers have flocked to a home in a remote town in Argentina’s Salta province after a video of a statue of Virgin Mary appearing to shed tears of blood went viral.
The mysterious phenomenon is being hailed as a miracle by the worshipers whowent to the town of Los Naranjos to see the statue first hand. The owner, who first noticed the icon shedding red tears in March, claimed that Mary visited him in a dream “the day before the miracle began.”
She is weeping for those who will be lost forever in Hell
Reflecting on the horrors of hell can help us to avoid ending up there
What are we to make of the vision of hell which was seen by the Fatima children on July 13, 1917?
The vision was revealed in Sister Lucia’s Third Memoir – which was written in the summer of 1941 – when she stated that she was going to reveal the first two parts of the Fatima secret, and that the first part of this secret was the vision of hell.
This is how she describes it:
“Our Lady showed us a great sea of fire which seemed to be under the earth. Plunged in this fire were demons and souls in human form, like transparent burning embers, all blackened or burnished bronze, floating about in the conflagration, now raised into the air by the flames that issued from within themselves together with great clouds of smoke, now falling back on every side like sparks in a huge fire, without weight or equilibrium, and amid shrieks and groans of pain and despair, which horrified us and made us tremble with fear. The demons could be distinguished by their terrifying and repellent likeness to frightful and unknown animals, all black and transparent.”
After this horrifying vision, Sister Lucia went on to say:
“This vision lasted but an instant. How can we ever be grateful enough to our kind heavenly Mother, who had already prepared us by promising, in the first Apparition, to take us to heaven. Otherwise, I think we would have died of fear and terror.”
Clearly, this vision was very brief, but very powerful and indeed terrifying. Sr Lucia then says:
“We then looked up at Our Lady, who said to us so kindly and so sadly: ‘You have seen hell where the souls of poor sinners go. To save them, God wishes to establish in the world devotion to my Immaculate Heart. If what I say to you is done, many souls will be saved and there will be peace.’ ”
Our Lady then went on to outline what needed to be done if souls would indeed be saved and peace given to the world – that is the second part of the secret.
The first point to make about this vision is that it strongly affirms the existence of hell, a fact which has been downplayed by some Catholics in recent years; the vision seen by the children, though, and the whole of Catholic tradition are opposed to that type of thinking. And in addition, Jesus mentions hell a number of times in the New Testament, and in quite graphic terms.
For example, in St Mark’s Gospel, after describing various sins that would make a person worthy of going to hell, such as corrupting little children, or using parts of the body for sinful purposes, he says: “And if your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out; it is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than with two eyes to be thrown into hell, where their worm does not die, and the fire is not quenched.” (Mark 9:42-48)
In St Matthew’s Gospel, in the parable of the sower, Jesus uses the weeds and the wheat of the parable as symbolic of the lost and the saved, saying: “Gather the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn” (Matthew 13:30).
There is a reference to the traditional concept of hell here in the fact that the weeds are burned.
Later on, Jesus explained the meaning of this parable to his disciples, saying:
“Just as the weeds are gathered and burned with fire, so will it be at the close of the age. The Son of man will send his angels, and they will gather out of his kingdom all causes of sin and all evildoers, and throw them into the furnace of fire; there men will weep and gnash their teeth.” (Matt 13:40-42)
So from these and other scriptural passages we get a general picture of hell as a place of eternal punishment, a punishment involving fire, a never-ending fire, and also as a place of remorse and despair.
Thus the thought of hell is meant to be a sobering one for us, and one we should take seriously. The vision of hell certainly made a very strong impression on the Fatima seers, and particularly on Jacinta, as Sister Lucia further relates:
“The vision of hell filled her with horror to such a degree, that every penance and mortification was as nothing in her eyes, if it could only prevent souls from going there.”
In fact, hell became a preoccupation of young Jacinta. One time she exclaimed:
“Oh, hell! hell! How sorry I am for the souls who go to hell! And the people down there, burning alive, like wood in the fire!”
Lucia tells us that, she would then kneel down with her hands joined, and recite the prayer that Our Lady had taught them: “O my Jesus! Forgive us, save us from the fire of hell. Lead all souls to heaven, especially those who are most in need.”
At other times, she asked her cousin: “Why doesn’t Our Lady show hell to sinners? If they saw it, they would not sin, so as to avoid going there! You must tell Our Lady to show hell to all the people. You’ll see how they will be converted.”
Before she died, Jacinta spent some time at an orphanage in Lisbon. The Sister in charge, who was known as Mother Godinho, was able to talk to Jacinta. In some cases, it seems that the things Jacinta spoke of came from Our Lady, but in others they resulted from the infused wisdom with which the little girl was gifted. In fact, Mother Godinho asked Jacinta about this, saying, ‘Who taught you these things?’ to which she responded, ‘Our Lady, but some of them I thought myself. I love to think.’
Jacinta reportedly told Mother Godinho that many people went to hell because of “sins of the flesh”. She also apparently said that certain fashions would be introduced which would be very offensive to Our Lord.
Clearly we are living in a time when sexual immorality and immodest fashions are widespread, so these points very much apply to our age.
We are not likely to see either heaven or hell in this life, but in the first part of the Fatima secret we have been given a clear reiteration of hell’s existence and horror. Like Jacinta, we need to mediate on hell – in our case so as to ensure that we don’t end up going there.
Donal Anthony Foley is the author of a number of books on Marian Apparitions, and maintains a related web site at www.theotokos.org.uk. He has also a written a time-travel/adventure book for young people
The following is from The Fountain of Catholic Knowledge (copyrighted by Office of Catholic Publications, 1900)...
Two young officers, when walking one day in Paris, entered the Church of the Assumption. After having looked at the pictures, the architecture; after having thought of everything excepting God, they were going out, when they perceived a priest wearing a surplice kneeling down close to a confessional. He seemed to be waiting for someone. "Look! Do you see that priest?" said one of the young men, laughingly, to his companion. "What is he doing there?" "Waiting for you, perhaps," replied the other. "Not very probable," answered the first; "but what will you bet that I go up and speak to him?" "I bet you will not." "And what is more, that I will confess to him?" "I bet you will not." "I bet that I will. Come, what do you bet?" "A good dinner." "With champagne?" "With champagne." "Done!...Agreed!... Wait for me, and watch the manoeuvre." And the foolish young fellow advances boldly to the priest of God. He whispers to him, and he rises immediately, enters the confessional; then the officer goes in at one of the sides and kneels down, just as is always done. "Will he ever have the effrontery?" thought the other. And with a smile of admiration on his lips, he sat down to wait for the improvised penitent. This went on for about seven or eight minutes, at the end of which he thought the joke had lasted a little too long. At length, after more than a quarter of an hour, the officer rose, came out of the confessional, and left after making a sign to his friend. His face was serious, and he seemed deeply moved. However, he laughed about the adventure with his companion, but would not tell him why he had remained so long. Upon the first excuse he left him and returned home. Two days after, he again entered the Assumption, and, after having prayed for a long time, approached the same confessional where the same priest had just gone in. This time he remained for half an hour; there were tears in his eyes when he came out...Peace and joy were written in his face...He had just received the pardon of his sins...And what was the meaning of all this? and what had happened to him two days before? It happens as follows, and I tell it in the officer's own words: The priest to whom he addressed himself very quickly perceived, by the tone of his penitent, that he was listening to no serious confession. "This is all in mockery, monsieur," he said gently, interrupting him. "You are doing wrong; you must not scoff at the things of God nor at His appointed ministers. But I pardon you from my heart, and I pray God to do the same." The officer, a little disconcerted, tried to excuse himself. "No, no," said the good priest, smiling. "You have done wrong; let us say no more about it. Still, since you have sought me out, allow me to speak to you for a minute, to ask you what you are-what is your calling?" "Willingly, father," replied the young man; "I am an officer." "Ah! That is a very fine calling. And what is your grade?" "I am a sub-lieutenant." "And after that what will you become?" "I shall be a lieutenant." "And afterward?" "Afterward a captain." "And afterward?" "A commander; then lieutenant-colonel, then colonel, then general, then lieutenant-general, perhaps." "And what age will you be then?" "Well, if I have good luck, and if I go to Africa, about forty or forty-five." "And do you not intend to marry?" "Oh, yes, I shall marry!" "Well, then you will become a general and married; and after that what will you become?" "After that? Why there is nothing left but the grade of a marshal." "And supposing that you should obtain that, what would you do afterward?" "Upon my word, I should do nothing more. I should rest with my wife and children." "And afterward?" "How afterward?" The serious tone of the priest troubled the young officer. "Ah, well! I shall die afterward." "And afterward?" The young man shuddered. Of this afterward he never thought. "You give me no answer, monsieur." said the confessor gravely. "You are ignorant perhaps, of what will come to pass afterward. You have told me only of what will happen before. But now I will tell you, in my turn, what will happen afterward. After your death, your soul will appear before Jesus Christ, and will be judged, not according to that human glory which will have vanished like a dream, but according to the good or evil it has done. If you have been virtuous, a faithful observer of the laws of God and of His Church; if you have been humble, pure, chaste, just, and merciful to others,-in a word, if you have been a good and faithful Christian, you will be saved, and will enter into the immutable happiness of eternity. If, on the contrary, you have followed the bent of your evil passions; if you have forgotten the services of God; if you have been proud, sensual, negligent, merciless, and unjust,- in a word, if you have not been a true Christian, you will be damned, understand me, monsieur. General, marshal, though you may be, you will be judged by Him who has no respect for persons, and you will hear the thunder of the terrible sentence: 'Depart from Me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels.' Now I have only one word more to say to you. It was no slight offence to come thus to mock me, face to face. I demand some satisfaction which, as a man of honor, you cannot refuse. I demand, understand me,-I demand that during one week, very night before you sleep, you shall think of what I have just said to you, and shall pronounce these words: 'I shall die; but I laugh at it. After my death I shall be judged; but I laugh at it. After my judgment I shall be eternally damned; but I laugh at it.' This is the reparation that I exact. Will you give me your word of honor to that you will not fail to grant it?" His penitent, wholly entangled in the snare he had intended for another, dared not refuse. He promised upon his word of honor to do what was asked from him. "Go, then, monsieur," said the priest; "I pardon you from my heart, and I promise to remember you before the throne of God." From a sentiment of loyalty and honor, the young officer performed the penance thus imposed. He made no resistance, and two days after his heart changed, and, sincerely repentant, he returned in good earnest to that confessional which he had entered in jest. He has since become an excellent Christian. If we were wise, we should reflect every day upon the shortness of life, and the unchangeable eternity which awaits us; and by means, we too, should become good and faithful Christians." [end, pg 379-382]
I highly recommend watching this excellent episode of The Download which speaks of what awaits people in hell...and a few of the sins, especially betrayal that will send a person to hell. Video : The Download—Hell and Traitorous Clergy
There are some miserable men - let us rather say, fools - who, in the delirium of their iniquity, make bold to declare that they laugh at hell. They say so, but only with their lips; their consciences protest and give them the lie.
Jean-Marie Collot d'Herbois
Jean-Marie Collot d'Herbois,
famous for his impiety as much as for is sanguinary ferocity, was the chief author of the massacres of Lyons in 1793; he caused the destruction of at least 1,600 individuals. Six years after, in 1799, he was banished to Cayenne, and used to give vent to his infernal rage by blaspheming the holiest things. The least act of religion became the subject of his jests. Having seen a soldier make the sign of the cross, "Imbecile!" he said to him. "You still believe in superstition! Do you not know that God, the Holy Virgin, Paradise, Hell, are the inventions of the accursed tribe of priests?" Shortly after, he fell sick and was seized by violent pains. In an access of fever he swallowed, at a single draught, a bottle of liquor. His disease increased; he felt as if burned by a fire that was devouring his bowels. He uttered frightful shrieks, called upon God, the Holy Virgin, a priest, to come to his relief. "Well, indeed," said the soldier to him, "you ask for a priest? You fear hell then? You used to curse the priests, make fun of hell! Alas!" He then answered: "My tongue was lying to my heart." Pretty soon, he expired, vomiting blood and foam.
The following incident happened in 1837. A young under-lieutenant, being in Paris, entered the Church of the Assumption, near the Toilers, and saw a priest kneeling near a confessional. As he made religion the habitual subject of his jokes, he wished to go to confession to while away the time, and went into the confessional. "Monsieur l'abbé," he said, "would you be good enough to hear my confession?" "Willingly my son; confess unrestrained." "But I must first say that I am a rather unique kind of a sinner." "No matter; the sacrament of penance has been instituted for all sinners." "But I am not very much of a believer in religious matters." "You believe more than you think." "Believe? I? I am a regular scoffer." The confessor saw with whom he had to deal, and that there was some mystification. He replied, smiling: "You are a regular scoffer? Are you then making fun of me, too?" The pretended penitent smiled in like manner. "Listen," the priest went on, "what you have just done here is not serious. Let us leave confession aside; and, if you please, have a little chat. I like military people greatly; and, then, you have the appearance of a good, amiable youth. Tell me, what is your rank?" "Under-lieutenant." "Will you remain an under-lieutenant long?" "Two, three, perhaps four years." "And after?" "I shall hope to become a lieutenant?" "And after?" "I hope to become a captain." "And after?" "Lieutenant-colonel?" "How old will you be then?" "Forty to forty-five years." "And after that?" "I shall become a brigadier general." "And after?" "If I rise higher, I shall be general of a division." "And after?" "After! there is nothing more except the Marshal's baton; but my pretensions do not reach so high." "Well and good. But do you intend to get married?" "Yes, when I shall be a superior officer." "Well! There you are married; a superior officer, a general, perhaps even a French marshal, who knows? And after?" "After? Upon my word, I do not know what will be after."
"See, how strange it is!" said the abbé. Then, in a tone of voice that grew more sober: "You know all that shall happen up to that point, and you do not know what will be after. Well, I know, and I am going to tell you. After, you shall die, be judged, and, if you continue to live as you do, you shall be damned, you shall go and burn in hell; that is what will be after."
As the under-lieutenant, dispirited at this conclusion, seemed anxious to steal away: "One moment, sir," said the abbé. "You are a man of honor. So am I. Agree that you have offended me, and owe me an apology. It will be simple. For eight days, before retiring to rest, you will say: 'One day I shall die; but I laugh at the idea. After my death I shall be judged; but I laugh at the idea. After my judgment, I shall be damned; but I laugh at the idea. I shall burn forever in hell; but I laugh at the idea!' That is all. But you are going to give me your word of honor not to neglect it, eh?" More and more wearied, and wishing, at any price, to extricate himself from this false step, the under-lieutenant made the promise. In the evening, his word being given, he began to carry out his promise. "I shall die," he says. "I shall be judged." He had not the courage to add: "I laugh at the idea." The week had not passed before he returned to the Church of the Assumption, made his confession seriously, and came out of the confessional his face bathed with tears, and with joy in his heart.
A young person who had become an unbeliever in consequence of her dissipation, kept incessantly shooting sarcasm at religion, and making jests of its most awful truths. "Juliette," some one said to her one day, "this will end badly. God will be tired of your blasphemies, and you shall be punished." "Bah," she answered insolently. "It gives me very little trouble. Who has returned from the other world to relate what passes there?" Less than eight days after she was found in her room, giving no sign of life, and already cold. As there was no doubt that she was dead, she was put in a coffin and buried. The following day, the grave-digger, digging a new grave beside that of the unhappy Juliette, heard some noise, it seemed to him that there was a knocking in the adjoining coffin. At once, he puts his ear to the ground, and in fact hears a smothered voice, crying out: "Help! help!" The authorities were summoned; by their orders, the grave was opened, the coffin taken up and unnailed. The shroud is removed; there is no further doubt, Juliette was buried alive. Her hair, her shroud were in disorder, and her face was streaming with blood. While they are releasing her, and feeling her heart to be assured that it still beats, she heaves a sigh, like a person for a long time deprived of air; then she opens her eyes, makes an effort to lift herself up, and says: "My God, I thank thee." Afterward, when she had got her senses well back, and by the aid of some food, recovered her strength, she added: "When I regained consciousness in the grave and recognized the frightful reality of my burial, when after having uttered shrieks, I endeavored to break my coffin, and struck my forehead against the boards, I saw that all was useless; death appeared to me with all its horrors; it was less the bodily than the eternal death that frightened me. I saw I was going to be damned. My God, I had but too well deserved it! Then I prayed, I shouted for help, I lost consciousness again, until I awoke above ground. O, goodness of my God!" she said, again shedding tears, "I had despised the truths of faith; thou hast punished me, but in thy mercy, I am converted and repentant."
They who deny hell will be
forced to admit it soon; but
alas! it will be too late.
[The following video contains a Lenten retreat sermon
delivered by a traditional Catholic priest on the subject
St. Antoninus, Archbishop of Florence, relates in his writings a terrible fact which, about the middle of the fifteenth century, spread fright over the whole North of Italy. A young man of good stock, who, at the age of 16 or 17, had had the misfortune of concealing a mortal sin in confession, and, in that state, of receiving Communion, had put off from week to week, month to month, the painful disclosure of his sacrileges. Tortured by remorse, instead of discovering with simplicity his misfortune, he sought to gain quiet by great penances, but to no purpose. Unable to bear the strain any longer, he entered a monastery; there, at least, he said to himself, I will tell all, and expiate my frightful sins. Unhappily, he was most welcomed as a holy young man by his superiors, who knew him by reputation, and his shame again got the better of him. Accordingly, he deferred his confession of this sin to a later period; and a year, two years, three years, passed in this deplorable state; he never dared to reveal his misfortune. Finally, sickness seemed to him to afford an easy means of doing it. "Now is the time," he said to himself; "I am going to tell all; I will make a general confession before I die." But this time, instead of frankly and fairly declaring his faults, he twisted them so artfully that his confessor was unable to understand him. He hope to come back again the next day: an attack of delirium came on, and the unfortunate man died.
The community, who were ignorant of the frightful reality, were full of veneration for the deceased. His body was borne with a certain degree of solemnity into the church of the monastery, and lay exposed in the choir until the next morning when the funeral was to be celebrated.
A few moments before the time fixed for the ceremony, one of the Brothers, sent to toll the bell, saw before him, all of a sudden, the deceased, encompassed by chains, that seemed aglow with fire, while something blazing appeared all over his person. Frightened, the poor Brother fell on his knees, with his eyes riveted on the terrifying apparition. Then the damned soul said to him: "Do not pray for me, I am in here for all eternity;" and he related the sad story of his false shame and sacrileges. Thereupon, he vanished, leaving in the church a disgusting odor, which spread all over the monastery, as if to prove the truth of all the Brother just saw and heard. Notified at once, the Superiors had the corpse taken away, deeming it unworthy of ecclesiastical burial.
After having cited the preceding example, Monsignor de Segur adds what follows:
In our century, three facts of the same kind, more authentic than some others have come to my knowledge. The first happened almost in my family.
It was in Russia, at Moscow, a short while before the horrible campaign of 1812. My maternal grandfather, Count Rostopchine, the Military Governor of Moscow, was very intimate with General Count Orloff, celebrated for his bravery, but as godless as he was brave.
One day, at the close of a supper, Count Orloff and one of his friends, General V., also a disciple of Voltaire, had set to horribly ridiculing religion, especially hell. 'Yet,' said Orloff; 'yet if, by chance, there should be anything the other side of the curtain?' 'Well,' took up General V., 'whichever of us shall depart first, will come to inform the other of it. Is it agreed?' 'An excellent idea,' replied Count Orloff; and both interchanged very seriously their word of honor not to miss the engagement.
A few weeks later, one of those great wars which Napoleon had the gift of creating at that time, burst forth. The Russian army began the campaign, and General V. received orders to start out forthwith to take an important command.
He had left Moscow about two or three weeks, when one morning, at a very early hour, while my grandfather was dressing, his chamber door is rudely pushed open. It was Count Orloff, in dressing-gown and slippers, his hair on end, his eye wild, and pale like a dead man. 'What, Orloff, you? at this hour? and in such a costume? What ails you? what has happened?' 'My dear,' replies Count Orloff, 'I believe I am beside myself. I have just seen General V.' 'Has General V., then, come back?' 'Well, no,' rejoins Orloff, throwing himself on a sofa, and holding his head between his hands; 'no, he has not come back, and that is what frightens me!'
My grandfather did not understand him. He tried to soothe him. "Relate to me," he says to Orloff, "what has happened you, and what all this means." Then, striving to stifle his emotion, the Count related the following: "My dear Rostopchine, some time ago, V. and I mutually swore that the first of us who died should come and tell the other if there is anything on the other side of the curtain. Now, this morning, scarcely half an hour since, I was calmly lying awake in my bed, not thinking at all of my friend, when, all of a sudden, the curtains of my bed were rudely parted, and at two steps from me I see General V. standing up, pale, with his right hand on his breast, and saying to me: 'There is a hell, and I am there!' and he disappeared. I came at once to you. My head is splitting! What a strange thing! I do not know what to think about it."
My grandfather calmed him as well as he could. It was no easy matter. He spoke of hallucinations, nightmares; perhaps he was asleep... There are many extraordinary unaccountable things... and other common-places, which constitute the comfort of freethinkers. Then he ordered his carriage, and took Count Orloff back to his hotel.
Now, ten or twelve days after this strange incident, an army messenger brought my grandfather among other news, that of the death of General V. The very morning of the day, Count Orloff had seen and heard him, the same hour he appeared at Moscow, the unfortunate General, reconnoitering the enemy's position, had been shot through the breast by a bullet, and had fallen stark dead.
"There is a hell, and I am there!" These are the words of one who came back.
Mgr. de Segur relates a second fact, which he regards as alike free from doubt. He had learned it in 1859, of a most honorable priest, and Superior of an important community. This priest had the particulars of it from a near relation of the lady of whom it had happened. At that time, Christmas Day, 1859, this person was still living, and little over forty years.
She chanced to be in London in the winter of 1847-48. She was a widow, about twenty-nine years old, quite rich and worldly. Among the gallants who frequented her salon, there was noticed a young lord, whose attentions compromised her extremely, and whose conduct, besides, was anything but edifying.
One evening, or rather one night, for it was close upon midnight, she was reading in her bed some novel, coaxing sleep. One o'clock struck by the clock; she blew out her taper. She was about to fall asleep when, to her great astonishment, she noticed that a strange, wan glimmer of light, which seemed to come from the door of the drawing-room, spread by degrees into her chamber, and increased momentarily. Stupefied at first, and not knowing what this meant, she began to get alarmed, when she saw the drawing-room door slowly open and the young lord, the partner of her disorders, entered her room. Before she had time to say a single word, he seized her by the left wrist, and with a hissing voice, syllabled to her in English: "There is a hell!" The pain she felt in her arm was so great that she lost her senses.
When, half an hour after, she came to again, she rang for her chamber-maid. The latter, on entering felt a keen smell of burning. Approaching her mistress, who could hardly speak, she noticed on her wrist so deep a burn, that the bone was laid bare, and the flesh almost consumed; this burn was the size of a man's hand. Moreover, she remarked that, from the door of the saloon to the bed, and from the bed to that same door, the carpet bore the imprint of a man's steps, which had burned through the stuff. By the directions of her mistress, she opened the drawing-room door: there, more traces were seen on the carpet outside.
The following day, the unhappy lady learned with a terror easy to be divined that, on that very night, about one o'clock in the morning, her lord had been found dead drunk under the table, that his servants had carried him to his room, and that there he had died in their arms.
I do not know, added the Superior, whether that terrible lesson converted the unfortunate lady, but what I do know is that she is still alive, and that to conceal from the sight the traces of her ominous burn, she wears on the left wrist, like a bracelet, a wide gold band, which she does not take off day or night. I repeat it, I have all these details from her near relation, a serious Christian, in whose word I repose the fullest belief. They are never spoken of, even in the family; and I only confide them to you, suppressing every proper name.
Notwithstanding the disguise beneath which this apparition has been, and must be enveloped, it seems to me impossible, adds Mgr. de Segur, to call in doubt the dreadful authenticity of the details.
Here is a third fact related by the same writer. In the year 1873, he writes, a few days before the Assumption, occurred again one of these apparitions from beyond the grave, which so efficaciously confirm the reality of hell. It was in Rome. A brothel, opened in that city after the Piedmontese invasion, stood near a police station. One of the bad girls who lived there had been wounded in the hand, and it was found necessary to take her to the Hospital of Consolation. Whether her blood, vitiated by bad living, had brought on mortification of the wound, or from an unexpected complication, she died suddenly during the night. At the same instant, one of her companions, who surely was ignorant of what had just happened at the hospital, began to utter shrieks of despair to point of awaking the inhabitants of the locality, creating a flurry among the wretched creatures of the house, and provoking the intervention of the police. The dead girl of the hospital, surrounded by flames, had appeared to her, and said: "I am damned! and if you do not wish to be like me, leave this place of infamy and return to God."
Nothing could quell the despair of this girl, who, at daybreak, departed, leaving the whole house plunged in a stupor, especially as soon as the death of her companion at the hospital was known.
Just at this period, the mistress of the place, an exalted Garribaldian, and known as such by brethren and friends, fell sick. She soon sent for a priest to receive the sacraments. The ecclesiastical authority deputed for thus task, a worthy prelate, Mgr. Sirolli, the pastor of the parish of Saint-Saviour in Laura. He, fortified by special instructions, presented himself, and exacted of the sick woman, before all, in the presence of many witnesses, the full and entire retractation of her blasphemies against the Sovereign Pontiff, and the discontinuance of the infamous trade she plied. The unhappy creature did so without hesitating, consented to purge her house, then made her confession and received the holy Viaticum with great sentiments of repentance and humility.
Feeling that she was dying, she besought, with tears, the good pastor not to leave her, frightened as she always was by the apparition of that damned girl. Mgr. Sirolli, unable to satisfy her on account of the proprieties which would not permit him to spend the night in such a place, sent to the police for two men, closed up the house, and remained until the dying woman had breathed her last.
Pretty soon, all Rome became acquainted with the details of these tragic occurrences. As ever, the ungodly and lewd ridiculed them, taking good care not to seek for any information about them; the good profited by them, to become still better and more faithful to their duties.
[The following video contains a sermon delivered by a traditional Catholic priest entitled We Can't Imagine the Pain of Hell.]