Caleb has never been in a prison and everything strikes him as new: “the massy doors, the resounding locks, the gloomy passages, the grated windows, and the characteristic looks of the keepers” (262). He comments that the “dirt of a prison speaks sadness to the heart” as it was obviously filled with putridity and infection (262).

Caleb describes several of the charges against other prisoners, focusing on how broken the men are: “[E]xistence [is] to them a scene of invariable melancholy; every moment was a moment of anguish” (265), but the men fear the outcomes of their trials will be worse (265).

Caleb attacks the hypocrisy of English claims of liberty, saying that the state of the jails is torture. The cells are seven and a half by six feet, with no window, light, or air except for what comes through a few holes (266). Caleb notes that the English pride themselves on having “no Bastille,” yet they treat their prisoners like the ones locked in France’s Bastille. Trials only occur once every six months, and if the case is not called, then the accused must wait another half year.