While thus, for two long years, Colonel Joinly was occupied in his career of charity, his family at home had been subjected to many privations. Everything that could be done by a woman was achieved by the energy, skill, and devotion of his wife. But they had been completely impoverished by the draining of their resources, and nothing was left to the support of a large and expensive family but the farm. From this, the absolute necessaries of life were indeed procured, but nothing more.
The situation of Mrs. Joinly was, in many respects, distressing. Her husband was in captivity, and in circumstances which led her to feel that his life must soon be sacrificed to exposure, care and anxiety. She knew the depth of his feelings, and foresaw that unless he were soon released from his present condition, he would speedily wear out his life from mere sympathy with the distress around him. She had several sons, now approaching manhood, who needed the guidance of a father; and she had daughters, who were deprived of advantages which they once possessed, and which a father’s presence alone could restore.
With all her care, she felt too that stern poverty was creeping upon them. The old family carriage had been laid aside, the sleek horses were gone, and the plough-horse alone remained in their stead. The ample flock of sheep had dwindled down to some half dozen ewes. Nothing remained of the noble dairy, but two lean cows. The fences of the farm were going to decay, and everything around seemed to wear an aspect of ruin and dilapidation.
Hitherto, Mrs. Joinly had supported her adversities with firmness, or if she had moments of weakness, they were hidden from the view of all around, and the tears which were shed, fell in secrecy and silence. But at last, she wrote a letter to her husband, setting forth her anxieties, and begging him earnestly to adopt some means by which he would be able to return.
When this letter reached Colonel Joinly, his heart was wrung with anguish. It seemed impossible that he should leave the prisoners to their fate, and yet, the call of his family appeared imperative. With a view of discharging his duty to all, he proceeded to General Clinton, and in moving terms set before him the distresses of the prisoners, and the necessity of provision, of medicines, medical attendants and other comforts. This earnestness and eloquence extorted a promise of compliance with these reasonable requests; but the event proved that it was promise alone.
Colonel Joinly also wrote to General Washington, entreating him to provide for his immediate exchange. He set before him his great sacrifices, his broken constitution, his ruined fortunes, his distressed family. The reply received from the commander-in-chief was full of kindly sympathy, but it still expressed a belief that Colonel Joinly’s presence with the distressed prisoners was indispensable, and that his leaving them would be but a dereliction of duty.
In a state almost bordering on despair, his nerves already shaken by impaired health, the colonel proceeded to General Clinton, and besought him to grant him leave of absence for a month, upon parole. The request seemed to startle the general at first, but great virtues make their way through all hearts. Colonel Joinly’s devotion to the prisoners had become the theme of praise even with the enemy, and had reached the ears of the British commander. He therefore, after a little hesitation, granted the request of Colonel Joinly, taking only his word of honor as the pledge for his return.
The war-worn soldier now made preparations to depart for his home, but, owing to some caprice in the British commander, or other circumstances, which we cannot explain, at the moment Colonel Joinly was about to depart, his leave of absence was revoked, and sick at heart, he was obliged to submit to the disappointment which this event occasioned.