“One day the door opened and a man entered whose appearance filled me with surprise. He was a giant of spare build with a long dark beard, delicately modelled, sympathetic hands and the countenance of a real saint. He resembled neither a clergyman nor a fanatic, but was evidently of a nature as gentle as his mind was vigorous. A man whose outward semblance was unforgettable, how much more his soul, which stands as clear in my recollection as does his tall stature. This was the prison chaplain. The advantage of becoming acquainted with this representative of the noblest form of humanity would alone suffice to compensate me for the terrible sufferings I endured in the course of those few years. Parson Haase has lived nearly a century as the confidant of the sufferers in prison. His powerful but healthy mind was ever impressed with the infinite misery around him. He became a friend of the prisoners, gave them his confidence and received theirs. I owe this man more than I can say. After him, and thanks to him, the most humanising influence in the gaol was the library, which became a priceless boon. This chaplain was a liberal-minded man who did not limit his choice to books of devotion when making the yearly additions, but he provided the prisoners with works to amuse as well as improve, selected after careful consideration of the varied tastes and requirements of their readers. With books of travel and adventure were scientific manuals and works of still higher pretensions to suit the better educated, and which helped them to escape from mental breakdown and served to counteract the deteriorating effects of cellular incarceration. The chaplain’s assistant-librarian at Celle was an ex-murderer who had killed an intimate friend, a bookseller, whom he robbed. It was a senseless crime, the discovery of which was certain, and its cause was never explained. “Religious exercises were strictly observed at Celle. The chapel was constructed on the well-known plan of providing separate boxes like lairs for each individual. All turned towards the altar which was adorned with a copy of Guido’s crucifixion. The services were given well and on a regular date there was a church ‘visitation day’ when a high dignitary preached a stirring discourse, with no other effect than that of starting a controversy among his prison congregation as to whether his cross was of gold or silver. Other subjects formed the staple conversation. One was always deeply interesting, the news that corporal punishment had been ordered and that a prisoner was to be strapped to the block.”