One of the most astonishing things in prison life is said
to be the deficiency of conscience in criminals. Scenes of
heartrending despair are rarely witnessed among them. Their
sleep is broken by no uneasy dreams; on the contrary, it is easy
and sound: they have also excellent appetites. They have a sense
of self-righteousness, and feel, on the whole, that they have
been wronged. Recently the newspapers told us of the execution
of a grave-digger upon the Continent, who had been convicted of
four murders, five robberies, eight cases of incendiarism, and
other crimes. When he was informed that he would be hanged early
next morning, he said that he deserved his fate, but he assured
his judge that worse fellows than he were running about the
world.
To have no consciousness of sin, no proper consciousness of it, is
no proof of our integrity; much more likely is it a proof that our
conscience has become benumbed and indurated by years of worldliness
and disobedience. (Text.)--W. L. WATKINSON, “The Transfigured
Sackcloth.”
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