Beautifully Dead - Chapter 29
An Immortal Affections serialized novel
Near Hall’s Hill, Virginia
March 6, 1862
My dearest Eleanor,
I pray this letter finds you in continued good health, though I confess the weight of winter has pressed heavily upon my spirit. Winter’s harshness deepens with the knowledge that mere miles separate us, when in better times I might have passed these cold months in the warmth of your presence. Your recent correspondence arrived as a beacon of divine light piercing the gathering darkness that has threatened to overwhelm my soul. Through your words, I felt the Lord’s comfort reaching across the battle lines that divide us, reminding me that even in this season of tribulation, His mercies remain new each morning.
I find that this conflict has claimed far more than my father’s earthly form—though that loss weighs heavily enough upon my heart. The Charles we both held dear, the brother whose merry disposition could lighten even the gravest circumstances, appears to have been consumed by the very darkness that Scripture warns dwells in the hearts of men given over to violence and hatred.
I cling to hope that this transformation proves temporary, that the brother I knew yet lives beneath the hardened exterior war has forged. Yet I too have witnessed such horrors as might alter even the strongest constitution, and I fear his restoration may require both considerable time and divine intervention.
As I continue my study of Holy Scripture in preparation for the sermons I deliver to our regiment, one particular passage has fixed itself within my thoughts with uncommon persistence.
The Apostle John, in his Revelation, chapter twenty-one, verse four, promises us that God “shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.”
How fervently I await that blessed day when the Lord shall fulfill this sacred promise! When this mortal coil, so weighted with suffering and separation, shall be exchanged for that eternal dwelling place where neither armies nor ideologies may divide those whom God has joined together in affection.
What strikes me most profoundly in your letters is the steadfast hopefulness that permeates your words, despite the trials you have endured.
I know my father’s passing has grieved you deeply—perhaps nearly as deeply as it has wounded my own heart. You nursed him with such devotion these many months, witnessing his gradual decline with the clear eyes of one trained in medical observation, yet maintaining throughout a tenderness that transcended mere clinical duty.
Moreover, in your hospital work, you must daily confront the same terrible scenes that haunt my own ministry—young men whose lives drain away despite all efforts to preserve them, physicians laboring heroically against wounds that defy earthly remedy, families receiving news that shatters their carefully constructed worlds.
To maintain faith and hope amid such relentless confrontation with mortality requires a strength of spirit that few possess. Yet maintain it you do, with a grace that continues to humble and quicken my spirit.
Your ability to persevere in hope while surrounded by death’s dominion stands as testimony to a faith more robust than my own.
Though I minister to these suffering souls daily, I confess there are moments when my own hope falters, when the weight of accumulated sorrows threatens to extinguish the light of faith within my breast. In such dark hours, the memory of your unwavering trust in Providence serves to rekindle my flagging spirits.
I find myself in a state of perpetual gratitude to the Almighty for the providential circumstances that brought you into my life. Your beauty, which dwells not merely in feature but in spirit—continues to sustain me through trials I could never have imagined when we first spoke beneath that white oak tree in Richmond. The kindness you show to all within your sphere, regardless of their station or allegiance, reflects the love of Christ in its purest form. Your faith, tested as it has been by loss and suffering, yet remains unshaken—a lighthouse whose steady beam guides me through the tempestuous seas of doubt and despair.
Though miles and armies stand between us, though death surrounds us on every side, though the future remains shrouded in uncertainty, I remain steadfast in my devotion to you and in my faith that our Heavenly Father, who has sustained us thus far, shall see us safely through to that blessed day of reunion.
Mindful of these blessings, with such earnestness my heart can compass, I implore you to continue to exercise proper caution in your hospital work. I know not how my soul should endure such grievous loss as to have you removed from this earthly sphere.
With unwavering devotion and the blessed hope of reunion,
Thomas
© 2025 E.M.V. - writing as Morgan A. Drake & Joe Gillis. All rights reserved.