Experience of a Confederate States Prisoner: Being an Ephemeris Regularly Kept by an Officer of the Confederate States Army

In Short

This book is an ephemeris—a daily record—kept by an officer of the Confederate States Army during his imprisonment in Northern military facilities in 1862. It functions as both a personal narrative of captivity and a political manifesto, documenting the officer’s experiences in Washington and at Fort Delaware. Through descriptions of prison life, interactions with guards, and reflections on the political landscape, the author provides a window into the intense, polarized atmosphere of a nation fractured by war, serving as a testament to the era’s deep-seated convictions.

The Story

The narrative begins in June 1862, with the author’s transit toward captivity. As he is transported from Alexandria to Washington D.C., he observes the public reaction, noting with bitter pride the sympathy shown by civilian onlookers and the "despotism" of the Federal guards. Upon arrival at the Old Capitol Military Prison, the author settles into a routine defined by cramped quarters, the pervasive presence of Union sentries, and the constant, often mocking, presence of Federal officers.

The arc of the narrative follows his life behind bars, where time is marked by the arrival of letters—often smuggled via the "Underground railroad"—and the occasional visit from friends. He records the deaths of fellow prisoners, the arrival of new captives, and the constant, often conflicting, reports of military engagements in the Shenandoah Valley and beyond. Throughout these months, he engages in a mental battle against his captors, viewing their attempts to induce prisoners to take the oath of allegiance as "insidious schemes" designed to break their spirit. He interprets every setback, from the capture of cities to the death of his comrades, through a lens of unwavering loyalty to the Confederate cause.

As the weeks pass, the author’s entries grow increasingly reflective and polemical. He fills his diary with sharp critiques of the Northern press, whom he accuses of maintaining an "organized system of lying," and voices his disdain for political figures like Abraham Lincoln. He contrasts the "noble" defense of independence with what he views as the "tyrannical" expansion of Northern power. The monotony of prison life—the "weary, lagging hours"—is punctuated by the arrival of news from the front and the occasional arrival of supplies from sympathetic local residents.

The conclusion of the diary arrives with the long-awaited news of a prisoner exchange. After enduring weeks of uncertainty, during which the prisoners cease to believe the empty promises of their captors, the author records the arrival of transport boats destined for "Dixie." The final entries shift from the claustrophobia of the prison yard to the anticipation of freedom. Upon landing at Aiken’s Landing in early August, the narrative culminates in a final, defiant reaffirmation of the Confederate struggle for "Constitutional Liberty," leaving the reader with the author's parting judgment on the conflict and the "wholsale system of lying" he identifies in the Northern war effort.

How It Unfolds

The transition to captivity The narrative opens with the author’s transport through Alexandria, where he witnesses the tension between sympathetic locals and the surrounding Union military presence. He describes the deprivation of basic needs and the symbolic, emotional exchanges of flowers and buttons between the prisoners and the crowd.

The confinement begins Upon reaching the Old Capitol Military Prison, the author details the harsh, impersonal conditions of his incarceration. He chronicles the strict rules governing his daily life, including the limited, monitored interactions with visitors and the persistent, antagonistic presence of Yankee officials.

Life in the cage The middle section focuses on the psychological toll of imprisonment, detailing the author’s disdain for the "despotic" government. He records his observations of the prison’s internal social hierarchy, the prevalence of disease, and the constant, futile attempts by captors to secure the prisoners' loyalty.

The shift toward exchange As the author approaches his release, the entries dwell on the news of the war’s broader progress and his own growing cynicism toward the Northern press. The narrative concludes with the arrival of transport ships, marking the end of his ordeal and his return to the Confederate lines.

The People

The author, an unnamed Confederate officer, acts as the central consciousness of the book. He is defined by a rigid sense of honor and an absolute belief in the righteousness of his cause. He sees himself not as a criminal, but as a victim of political tyranny, and he maintains his dignity through a staunch refusal to submit to Northern authority.

"Cyclops," the prison surgeon, serves as the primary antagonist within the daily walls of the prison. The author uses this unflattering nickname to dehumanize him, viewing him as a representative of the "Anaconda" strategy of the North. He is the voice of the enemy's progress, often delivering news that the author then refutes as propaganda.

The "angel of mercy," identified as Miss E.A., stands in stark contrast to the guards. She provides the author with clothing and companionship, representing the emotional tether to his home and the "Secessionist" cause. Her presence, however brief, highlights the author’s deep gratitude for those who risk their safety to show him kindness under the watchful, hostile eyes of his captors.

Finally, the "Yankee officers," such as Lieutenant Holmes, are depicted as petty, vindictive figures. They represent the "despotism" the author decries, constantly searching for any excuse to tighten the rules or punish the prisoners. They are the instruments of the author’s physical confinement, yet he views himself as their moral superior throughout.

In Its Own Voice

"This little book is intended as, and professes no more than a plain statement of facts, so that others may learn what I have read, seen and heard, without undergoing the pain of incarceration in the hands of Yankees, whose tyranny increases in proportion to the power they possess over their victims."

The author sets his agenda in the preface, defining the book as an authentic record of his ordeal intended to stir his Southern compatriots.

"The ladies could not be prevented from kissing their hands to the prisoners."

This observation, made during the author’s transit through Alexandria, captures the intense, romanticized public support he felt even while under armed guard.

"To the large majority of the prisoners these seductive devices are as the storm to the oak, which, though it may scatter the leaves, and snap the smaller branches, serves but to rivet the roots, and to harden and condense the fibres of the tree."

The author describes the resilience of the Confederate prisoners in the face of Union efforts to pressure them into taking an oath of allegiance.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an exploration of the power of ideology to sustain the individual through profound isolation and physical degradation. The author is less interested in the military strategy of the war than in the moral architecture of the conflict. He grapples with the definition of liberty, arguing that the true threat is not merely the defeat of armies, but the erosion of the "Constitutional" principles he believes the South is defending. The questions underneath the entries are existential: How does one maintain an identity when stripped of agency? How does a person reconcile their own suffering with the perceived inevitability of their cause? The book serves as an argument that personal conviction is the ultimate barrier against external coercion.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the Civil War will find this a challenging, unvarnished primary source. It is not a polished history, but a raw, unfiltered perspective on the lived experience of a prisoner during 1862. It forces the modern reader to confront the intense, often vitriolic rhetoric of the period, as the author does not shy away from the deeply partisan, sometimes inflammatory language common to his station and era.

The diary is difficult, particularly in its period-specific attitudes and the author's unyielding, often rigid worldview. It is filled with the frustrations of a man who feels his world is being dismantled, and he conveys his anger through language that can feel jarring to a contemporary ear. However, for those who value the "plain statement of facts"—as the author promises—it offers an immersive, often claustrophobic look at the human cost of the war. What stays with the reader is the stark portrait of a mind holding fast to its convictions under the pressure of captivity, illustrating how deeply the war was felt at the individual level. It is a portrait of endurance, however interpreted through the lens of a fierce and unrepentant partisan.