Sacrifice in Christian preaching highlights the selfless giving of oneself for others, reflecting Christ's ultimate act of love on the cross (Romans 5:8). Illustrations often use vivid images of life-risking devotion, noble duty, and deep bonds forged through giving, contrasting true, holy sacrifice with empty or misguided offerings (Hebrews 13:16).
A soldier gives generously, inspired by Christ’s sacrifice for him.
A poor Protestant congregation in Lyons was trying to build a small house for their public worship. An old soldier brought all his three months' earnings. "Can you spare so much?" asked the minister. "My Saviour spared not himself," he answered, tears of gratitude and love trickling down his cheeks, "but freely gave his life for me: surely I can spare one-quarter of a year's earnings to extend his kingdom on earth."
A blood-sharing ritual symbolizes deep brotherhood and mutual commitment.
Capt. Burton, in his work on Africa, tells us the following singular and beautiful rite which he found among the people. Two persons wish to take upon themselves what they call "The Brother Rite." To do this, they sit down face to face, with their legs crossed, holding in their laps their implements of war. A sheep or goat is then killed, and its heart roasted and brought to them, and a half given to each. One of them then takes a knife, and opens a vein on the left breast of the other, over the heart; and, as the blood flows, he smears his piece of heart in the blood and eats it; the other doing in the same manner with him. Next, each catches some of the blood of the other, and rubs it into his own wound; and the rite is now complete. This rite is designed to signify that henceforth they are halves or parts of each other. Each, through his own blood thus eaten, and thus absorbed by the other's veins, is considered as living in and of the other. Henceforth, should either be in any trouble, the other is to feel "it is myself that is in trouble," and thus do for the other whatsoever in like circumstances he would do for himself.
A pastor humbly cares for wounded soldiers, showing servant-hearted love.
After the battle of Antietam, a gentleman, passing over the field of blood, saw a man washing at a brook: as he came near, he recognized a doctor of divinity, the pastor of one of the largest churches in Philadelphia, and a delegate. Said he, "Doctor, what are you doing?" The doctor straightened up, and, pointing with his finger, said, "Over yonder are six hundred wounded men; most of them lying in the bloody shirts in which they were wounded. Our shirts are out, and we shall have none till to-morrow morning: so I thought I would take a few of the worst out here, and wash and dry them in the sun. Do you think there is any harm in it?" Said the gentleman, "Doctor, I know God has blessed you abundantly in your work in Philadelphia; but I do not think the Master ever looked upon any act of your life with more pleasure than upon this."—"I believe it," said the doctor, and turned to his washing. Demond.
A father sent his son into battle despite danger, exemplifying sacrificial duty.
Exposure in. A story is told of the veteran Sumner at the battle of Antietam. His son, young Capt. Sumner, a youth of twenty-one, was on his staff. The old man calmly stood amidst a storm of shot and shells, and turned to send him through a doubly raging fire, upon a mission of duty. He might never see his boy again; but his country claimed his life, and, as he looked upon his young brow, he grasped his hand, encircled him in his arms, and fondly kissed him. "Good-by, Sammy!"—"Good-by, father!" And the youth, mounting his horse, rode gayly on the message. He returned unharmed, and again his hand was grasped with a cordial, "How d'yedo, Sammy?" answered by a grasp of equal affection.
A soldier sacrifices his life to save his captain, showing selfless love.
In the battle of Fort Donelson, an orderly sergeant, seeing a rebel point a rifle at the captain of his company, sprang in front of him, received the ball in his own breast, and fell dead in the arms of the man he had saved. The noble soldier had been reared by the father of the captain, and had before declared, if he could but save the life of his benefactor's son, he should be happy.
A father sacrifices his life to save his son, exemplifying noble paternal devotion.
An Indian, having slain one of another tribe, fled to the French for safety. The offended Choctaws, whom no gifts would appease, demanded his blood. The Indian Mingo, being produced, declared himself a true man, and ready to die, but regretful on account of his aged father, his wife, and infant children. His father then rose up, and offered to suffer in his son's place, and was accepted. His friends gathered about him, and said their farewell with many tears. The aged father then laid his head upon the executioner's block, which was quickly cut off. A noble example of paternal devotion!
A wounded soldier mourned losing his arm but accepted it for his country's unity.
In a hospital at Nashville, a wounded hero was lying on the amputating-table, under the influence of chloroform. They cut off his strong right arm and cast it all bleeding upon the pile of human limbs. They then laid him gently upon his couch. He woke from his stupor, and missed his arm. With his left hand, he lifted the cloth and there was nothing but the gory stump. "Where's my arm?" he cried. "Get my arm! I want to see it once more, — my strong right arm." They brought it to him. He took hold of the cold, clammy fingers, and, looking stead fastly at the poor dead member, thus addressed it with tearful earnestness: "Good-by, old arm!
We have been a long time together. We must part now. Good-by, old arm! You'll never fire another carabine or swing another sabre for the government;" and the tears rolled down his cheeks. He said to those standing by, "Understand, I don't regret its loss. It has been torn from my body that not one State should be torn from this glorious Union."
— C. C. McCabe
A soldier chooses to die protecting the flag, exemplifying ultimate patriotic sacrifice.
A poor soldier came down from Indiana to West Virginia in the early part of the war, and, alas! too soon lay bleeding at the root of a tree in the midst of the battle. His comrade bowed over him to give him a drink from his canteen. He pronounced the name of mother and of Jesus with fast-failing breath, and when a squadron of cavalry dashed past, bearing the dear old banner, pushed his comrade away, faintly screaming, "Follow that flag!" choosing to die alone that it might not fall. Heroic boy! well did he illustrate the spirit which animated that host, a million strong, which saved the nation. C. D. Foss.
Families willingly sacrifice sons for their country, demonstrating committed patriotism.
An old man visited the army to see his two sons, and found them both wounded. Sitting between the maimed soldiers, he was asked if he regretted the sacrifice. "No!" exclaimed he earnestly: "if I had twenty sons, I would give them all to save this Union." A minister, dressing the wounds of a soldier, found that he had been shot through the eyes and the bridge of his nose, and that his sight was entirely gone. "Poor fellow!" said he, "this is hard."—"Yes, it is hard; but I would go through it again for my country," replied the sightless hero. Mrs. Ellet of Philadelphia, who had given two sons (Com. Ellet of the Rain Fleet, and Brig.-Gen. Ellet of the Marine Brigade) and four grandsons for the country, said, when the body of one of her grandsons was brought home, "I do not regret the gift to my country. If I had twenty sons, I would give them all, for the country must be preserved: and, if I was twenty years younger, I would go myself, and fight to the last."
True patriotism involves noble personal sacrifice for the good of the nation.
A great chasm opened in the Roman Forum, which the soothsayers said could not be filled but by that which was most valuable to the State. Marcus Curtius, an eminent soldier, mounted his war-horse, and, full-armed, rode into the gulf, a noble sacrifice for his country.
Sacrificing personal safety for others exemplifies true patriotism and selflessness.
As Farragut swept up the Mississippi, past the Vicksburg batteries, Lieut. Cummings had a leg shot away by a rebel ball. Refusing to go below, he shouted to his brave tars, "Get the ship by the batteries, get the ship by, boys, and they may have the other leg." A company of soldiers defending Rodman's Point were overpowered by the enemy, and took possession of a scow, in which to cross Tar River. When loaded, it stuck fast in the mud. Exposure was certain death. Several soldiers were about to spring out from the sheltering sides to push it off, when a large negro said, "You keep still, and save your life. I can't fight: I can push off the boat. If they kill me, it is nothing. You are soldiers, and they need you to fight." He leaped overboard, pushed the boat into the stream, and sprang back pierced by seven bullets, a sacrifice to patriotism.
A mother's concern for her country's welfare surpasses even the loss of her children.
A Lacædemonian mother had five sons in a battle that was fought near Sparta, and, seeing a soldier that had left the scene of action, eagerly inquired of him how affairs went on. "All your five sons are slain," said he. "Unhappy wretch!" replied the woman: "I ask thee not of what concerns my children, but of what concerns my country." — "As to that, all is well," said the soldier. "Then," said she, "let them mourn that are miserable. My country is prosperous, and I am happy." Percy.
Sacrifice creates a lasting bond of love and interest between rescuer and rescued.
No one can make sacrifice for another, without establishing a new bond of interest between them. A boy is rescued from death, and, ever after, he loves to tell, "That man once saved my life." The rescuer, too, feels a special interest in the one he has saved.
Christ's sacrifice surpasses all human acts of self-devotion and love for others.
We have read of Leonidas and his brave three hundred stopping the ravaging march of the Persians at Thermopylae, and devoting themselves to the salvation of their country. We have read of the King of the Loerians, who when his son had broken the laws, the demand of which was that both eyes should be put out, mitigated the punishment by giving, in exchange for one of them, an eye of his own; thus enduring, self-devotedly, a part of the suffering allotted to his child. We have read of the queen who sucked the poison from the wound of the king her consort, though convinced that death would be the consequence of her heroic act. And numerous have been the instances wherein soldiers have caught the death-blows intended for their commanders, — not merely risking, but devoting, their own lives for the salvation of a life which they held to be more important than their own. And is such conduct reprobated by the general mass of mankind? Far from it. Why, then, should the sacrifice of Christ be? T. Ragg.
Human history shows varied, often misguided sacrifices seeking favor from false objects of worship.
All nations have offered sacrifice to some beings whom they have deified. There is no region where the pilgrim's foot can travel, where you will not find offerings, some sanguinary, some libidinous, some foolish, but all to propitiate the anger, or secure the protection, of some fancied object of worship. There comes a cry groaning out of the great heart of humanity, "What is the acceptable sacrifice?" Strange divinations and streaming altars; cakes for the queen of heaven, and prostrations before the brazen image; children for the insatiate. Moloch passing through the scorching fire, — these are the responses from classical and pagan times. African Feticism, Hindoo immolations, and Burman cruelties, and the atrocities of savage cannibalism, — these are the hollow answers from the uninstructed consciences of heathens. Cold morality, and rubrical exactitude, and sacramental efficacy, and ascetical self-denial, — these are the polite and conventional theories of modern formalism. W. M. Punshon.
True sacrifice is motivated by devotion to Christ, not by worldly gain.
When a teacher was wanted by Dr. Mason of Burmah for the warlike Bghais, he asked his boatman Shapon, if he would go; and reminded him, that, instead of the fifteen rupees a month which he now received, he could have only four rupees a month as a teacher. After praying over the matter, he came back; and Dr. Mason said, "Well, Shapon, what is your decision? Can you go to the Bghais for four rupees a month?" Shapon answered, "No, teacher: I could not go for four rupees a month; but I can do it for Christ." And for Christ's sake he did go.
Sacrifice without holiness and righteousness is empty and misunderstood by God.
He that offers in sacrifice, O Pamphilus! a multitude of bulls and of goats, of golden vestments, or purple garments, or figures of ivory, or precious gems, and imagines by this to conciliate the favor of God, is grossly mistaken, and has no solid understanding; for he that would sacrifice with success ought to be chaste and charitable, no corrupter of virgins, no adulterer, no robber or murderer for the sake of lucre.
From the Greek.
Self-sacrifice can bring unexpected deliverance and reward in dire situations.
Two fishermen, a few years ago, were mending their nets on board their vessel on one of the lakes in the interior of Argyleshire, at a considerable distance from the shore, when a sudden squall upset their boat. One of them could not swim; and the only oar which floated was caught by him that could swim. His sinking companion cried, "Ah, my poor wife and children, they must starve now!" — "Save yourself: I will risk my life for their sakes," said the other, thrusting the oar beneath the arms of the drowning man. He committed himself instantly to the deep, in danger of perishing for the safety of his companion. That moment, the boat struck the bottom, and started the other oar by their side; and thus both were enabled to keep afloat till they were picked up. Biblical Treasury.
An old man gave up medicine to save his country, showing sacrificial commitment.
An old man of more than fourscore years, afflicted with a bodily infirmity, for which he had been advised by a physician to use ardent spirit as a medicine, was presented with the total abstinence pledge. After reading it he said,
"That is the thing that will save our country—I will sign it!"
"No," said one, "you must not sign it, because ardent spirit is necessary for you as a medicine."
"I know," said he, "I have used it, but if something is not done, our country will be ruined, and I will not be accessory to its ruin. I will sign it!"
"Then," says another, "you will die."
"Well," said the old man, in the true spirit of '76, "for my country I can die"—and he signed the pledge, gave up his medicine, and his disease fled away.
It was the remedy that kept up the disease, and when he had renounced the one, he was relieved of the other. So it probably would be in nine cases out of ten where this poison is used as a medicine.
Sons work humbly to raise ransom money to free their enslaved father.
Montesquieu, being at Marseilles, hired a boat, with an intention of sailing for pleasure. He entered into conversation with the two young boatmen, and learned, to his surprise, that they were silversmiths by trade, and had agreed to employ themselves thus as watermen, only that they might increase their earnings. On expressing his surprise, and his fears, that this must arise only from an avaricious disposition, "Oh, sir," said one of them, "if you knew our reasons, you would not think so. Our father, anxious to assist his family, scraped together all he was worth, and purchased a vessel, for the purpose of trading to the coast of Barbary; but was unfortunately taken by a pirate, carried to Tripoli, and sold for a slave. He writes that he has happily fallen into the hands of a master who uses him well, but that the sum demanded for his ransom is so exorbitant, that it will be impossible for him ever to raise it, and says we must therefore relinquish all hope of ever seeing him, and be contented. With the hope of restoring to his family a beloved father, we are striving, by every means in our power, to collect the sum necessary for his ransom; and for such a purpose, we are not ashamed to employ ourselves in this occupation of watermen."
Montesquieu was struck with this account, and on his departure made them a handsome present. Some months afterwards, the two brothers, being at work in their shop, were greatly surprised at seeing their father enter: he threw himself into their arms, exclaiming, that he was fearful they had taken some unjust method to raise the money that procured his ransom. They professed their ignorance of the whole affair, and could only attribute their father's release to that stranger, to whose generosity they had been before so much indebted.
A son offers to die in place of his condemned father, resulting in pardon and honor.
A gentleman of Sweden was condemned to suffer death, as a punishment for certain offences committed by him in the discharge of an important public office, which he had filled for a number of years with an integrity that had never before undergone either suspicion or impeachment. His son, a youth about eighteen years of age, was no sooner apprised of the affecting situation to which his father was reduced, than he flew to the judge who had pronounced the fatal decree, and, throwing himself at his feet, prayed that he might be allowed to suffer in the room of a father whom he loved, and whose loss he thought it was impossible for him to survive. The magistrate was amazed at this extraordinary procedure in the son, and would hardly be persuaded that he was sincere in it. Being at length satisfied, however, that the young man actually wished to save his father's life at the expense of his own, he wrote an account of the whole affair to the king; and his majesty immediately sent orders to grant a free pardon to the father, and to confer a title of honor on his son. The last mark of royal favor, however, the youth begged leave with all humility to decline; and the motive for the refusal of it was not less noble than the conduct by which he had deserved it was generous and disinterested. "Of what avail," exclaimed he, "could the most exalted title be to me, humbled as my family already is in the dust? Alas! would it not serve but as a monument to perpetuate in the minds of my countrymen the remembrance of an unhappy father's shame!" His majesty, the king of Sweden, actually shed tears when this magnanimous speech was reported to him; and, sending for the heroic youth to court, he appointed him to a confidential office.
A drummer sacrifices himself to warn a fortress of enemy attack, saving many lives.
Many years ago, the Baschirs revolted. Near Krasno-Uffimske, in the government of Perm, they had cut in pieces some companies of dragoons, and devised to take the fortress of Atschitskaja, by stratagem. They dressed themselves in the uniforms of the dragoons, mounted their horses, and marched towards the fortress. To keep up the deception of being really Russians, they had spared a drummer, whom they ordered to play the Russian dragoon march. On approaching the fortress, the gates were thrown open; when the drummer, instead of the march, beat the alarm. The garrison then perceived the treacherous artifice, closed the gates, and prepared for resistance. As the Baschirs could not make a regular attack, they were obliged to retreat, when they cut the poor drummer to pieces. His fate he had foreseen, and therefore his voluntary sacrifice was the more striking and praise-worthy.
A servant sacrifices his life so two children can escape a sinking ship.
The captain of one of Commodore Johnson's Dutch prizes related, that one day he went out of his own ship, to dine on board another; while he was there, a storm arose, which in a short time made an entire wreck of his own ship, to which it was impossible for him to return. He had left on board two little boys, one four, the other five years old, under the care of a poor black servant. The people struggled to get out of the sinking ship into a large boat, and the poor black took his two little children, tied them into a bag, and put in a little pot of sweetmeats for them, slung them across his shoulder, and put them into the boat;
the boat by this time was quite full; the black was stepping into it himself, but was told by the master there was no room for him, that either he or the children must perish, for the weight of both would sink the boat. The exalted, heroic negro did not hesitate a moment.
"Very well," said he, "give my duty to my master, and tell him I beg pardon for all my faults;" and then plunged to the bottom, never to rise again till the sea shall give up her dead.
A servant dies defending his master from wolves, saving his life at the cost of his own.
A gentleman was travelling, with his valet de chambre, in a sledge, through one of the extensive forests of Poland, when they were suddenly attacked by a number of wolves, which leaped furiously at the carriage.
The servant, who instantly perceived that either he or his master must fall a victim to their fury, exclaimed, "Protect my wife and children;" and instantly rushing into the midst of them, perished in a moment, and by this generous act saved his master, who fled from the danger, by driving forward with the greatest rapidity.
A nurse sacrifices her life to protect her master's infant during an earthquake.
The Rev. S. W. Hanna says: On the
10th of June, 1770, the town of Portau-Prince, in Hayti, was utterly overthrown by a dreadful earthquake. From one of the failing houses the inmates had fled, except a negro woman, the nurse of her master's infant child. She would not desert her charge, though the walls were even then giving way.
Rushing to its bed-side, she stretched forth her arms to enfold it. The building rocked to its foundation;—the roof fell in. Did it crush the hapless pair?
The heavy fragments fell indeed upon the woman, but the infant escaped unharmed; for its noble protectress extended her bended form across the body, and, at the sacrifice of her own life, preserved her charge from destruction.
Peggy joyfully gave her first earned pound to support gospel ministry in Ireland.
POUND NOTE.—Peggy had been consigned by her dying mother in Ireland to the care of an individual, who brought her up as her servant, bestowing upon her only clothes and food as her wages. Her residence with this person led to Peggy's attendance on the ministry of the gospel. It met, in her case, with a heart prepared by Divine influence to receive it: she imbibed it as the thirsty earth the shower. Her appearance became altered, and her whole demeanour highly improved. Her mistress, finding her services increasingly valuable, and fearing that the temptation to high wages might effect a separation, proffered, of her own accord, to give her a small yearly salary. For this she was truly thankful, and some months having elapsed, she came to me, says a Christian minister in London, one evening after service, apparently with great joy, and slipped a piece of paper into my hand—it was a one-pound note. "Peggy," said I, "what is this?" "Your reverence," said she, "it is the first pound that I could ever call my own since I was born. And what will I do with it? Ah! will I forget my country?—No:—it is for poor Ireland—it is for my countrymen to have the blessed, blessed gospel preached to them." I admired her disinterestedness, but thought the sacrifice too great, as I knew she must want such a sum for very important purposes. "Peggy," said I, "it is too much for you to give; I cannot take it." "Oh, your reverence," she replied, with her characteristic energy, "if you refuse it, I would not sleep for a fortnight;" and she went away, leaving the money in my hand, and exclaiming, "God bless my poor country with the ministry of the gospel."
How much does her liberality outshine that of many?
Christians raised ransom funds for captive brethren, embodying Christ’s love and solidarity.
The early Christians were remarkable for their brotherly love. When a multitude of Christian men and women in Numidia, had been taken prisoners by a horde of neighboring barbarians, and when the churches to which they belonged were unable to raise the sum demanded for their ransom, they sent deputies to the church that was planted in the metropolis of North Africa. No sooner had Cyprian, who was at the head of it, heard a statement of the distressing case, than he commenced a subscription in behalf of the unfortunate slaves, and never relaxed his indefatigable efforts, till he had collected a sum equal to nearly $4000. This he forwarded to the Numidian Christians, with a letter full of Christian sympathy and tenderness.
"In cases like these," he says in his letter, "who would not feel sorrow, and who would not look upon a brother's sufferings as his own? As the apostle says, when one member suffers, all the members suffer with it. Therefore we must consider the captivity of our brethren as our own captivity. We must see Christ in our captive brethren, and redeem him from captivity who redeemed us from death."
A Christian pilot sacrificed status and safety to help spread the gospel among his people.
In the year 1811, the Moravian missionaries in Labrador determined on the introduction of the gospel in the northern parts of that land. They embarked in company with a Christian pilot whom they had obtained, named Jonathan. The sacrifices which this man made to accompany him were very great. At Hopedale, he was considered the principal person or chief of his nation; but being made a partaker of the same spirit by which the missionary brethren were actuated, he was willing to sojourn among strangers, where he would have no pre-eminence, and to expose himself to unknown hardships and dangers, sustained only by the hope that the projected voyage might open the way for the introduction of the gospel among a portion of his countrymen still sitting in darkness and the shadow of death. When any of his countrymen represented to him the danger of the expedition, he used to say, "Well, we will try, and shall know better when we get there:" and once he said, "When I hear people talk about the danger of being killed, I think Jesus went to death out of love to us; what greater matter would it be, if we were to be put to death in his service, should that be his good pleasure?" So effectually had he been taught that Christ died for all, that we who live should not henceforth live unto ourselves, but unto him who died for us, and rose again. Nor was this a mere empty boast; this generous principle of devotedness to Jesus evidently actuated our Esquimaux captain during the severe trials of a most perilous voyage; his cheerful, firm, and faithful conduct, under all circumstances, being quite consistent with his Christian profession.
One miner sacrifices his life so the other, an impenitent sinner, might live and be saved.
At a meeting of the Wesleyan Missionary Society, the Rev. R. Young, of Truro, mentioned a very remarkable fact that had taken place in Cornwall, (Eng.)
"Two men were working together in a mine, and having prepared to blast the rock, and laid the train, the latter became by accident ignited. In a few moments a tremendous explosion they knew was inevitable, and the rock must be rent in a thousand pieces. On perceiving their danger, they both leaped into the bucket, and called to the man on the surface to draw them up. He endeavored to do so, but his arm was found too feeble to raise the bucket while both the men were in it. What was to be done? The burning fuse, which could not be extinguished, was now within a few feet of the powder; a moment or two, and the explosion must take place. At this awful crisis, one of the men, addressing the other, said, "You shall live, and I will die; for you are an impenitent sinner, and if you now die your soul will be lost; but if I die, I know that, by the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, I shall be taken to himself." And so saying, without waiting for a reply, he leaped out of the bucket and prayerfully waited the result. On the other reaching the surface, he bent over the shaft to ascertain the fate of his companion. At that moment a terrific explosion was heard; a portion of the rock was thrown up and smote him on the forehead, leaving an indelible mark to remind him of his danger and deliverance. But the man of God, when they came to search for him, was found arched over by the fragments of broken rock in the mine, uninjured, and rejoicing in the Lord. This magnanimous miner exhibited in this act an amount of disinterested love and charity which has seldom been equaled, and is never found but in connection with the love of Christ. Here is none of that unholy daring of which we have instances among the heroes of Greece and Rome, who, actuated solely by a love of notoriety, inflicted upon themselves tortures, and even death; but that pure Christian character, which, at all hazards, even at the sacrifice of life itself, seeks to save the immortal soul of man. This is the kind of charity we have met this day to elicit, to strengthen and to direct, and without which it is impossible that the great object of missionary enterprise can ever be accomplished.
A mother opposed her son's elevation to protect the nation's welfare over ambition.
History furnishes many examples of mothers, led away by the seductive attractions of honor, riches, and grandeur, to sacrifice the true happiness of their children, in the hope of securing the future fortune and rank of their posterity. Russia, however, furnishes one instance of a mother who opposed the elevation of her child to the highest dignity, with the utmost anxiety. During the interregnum that succeeded the unfortunate reign of Chowski, in 1610, the Russian nobles agreed to give the crown to a near relation, on the maternal side, of the Czar Fedor Iwanovitch. They accordingly invited young Michael Romanof and his mother to Moscow, but they both refused to attend;
the mother even went further; she wrote to her brother Cheremetef, to beg of him to oppose the elevation of his nephew to a throne, since his extreme youth rendered him incapable of undertaking so important a charge. The election, however, proceeded, and Michael Romanof was chosen Emperor. When the deputies repaired to Kostroma, to announce to the new sovereign the choice they had made of him, his mother begged a private interview with the plenipotentiaries, before she introduced them to her son. They consented, and met her in the church, where, with tears, she renewed her entreaties, and begged of them to choose some person more able to govern the people than her son. She was informed that, having decided, the nobles would not revoke their choice. "Well, then," said she, "I must content myself with soliciting you to take my child under your guardianship; he has not been educated in the difficult art of governing mankind; but you have elected him—you insist on him for your monarch, and if he does not fulfil your expectations, you alone will be answerable to God for the events of which your choice may be the cause; but as for me, I have done my duty to my God, my country, and my child."
An Indian chief accepts death to uphold his nation's honor despite personal and family cost.
A pledge is considered very sacred and binding among the North American Indians. The following is an instance. During the Winnebago war of 1827, Dekkerre, a celebrated chief of that nation, with four other Indians of his tribe was taken prisoner at Prairie du Chien. Colonel Snelling, who then commanded that garrison, dispatched a young Indian into the nation with orders to inform the chiefs of Dekkerre's band that unless the Indians who were perpetrators of the horrid murders of some of our citizens were brought to the fort and given up within ten days, Dekkerre and the other four Indians who were retained as hostages, would be shot at the end of that time. The awful sentence was proclaimed in the presence of Dekkerre, who, though proclaiming his own innocence of the outrages that had been committed by others of his nation, exclaimed, that he feared not death, notwithstanding it would be fraught with serious consequences to his large and dependent family of little children; but if necessary, he was willing to die for the honor of his nation. The young Indian had been gone several days, and no intelligence was yet received from the murderers. The dreadful day being near at hand, and Dekkerre being in a bad state of health, asked permission of the Colonel to go to the river and indulge in his long accustomed habit of bathing; in order to improve his health. Upon which Colonel S. told him that, if he would promise, on the honor of a chief, that he would not leave the town, he might have his liberty and enjoy all his privileges until the day of the appointed execution. Accordingly he first gave his hand to the Colonel, thanked him for his friendly offer, then raised both his hands aloft, and in the most solemn adjuration, promised that he would not leave the bounds prescribed, and said, if he had a hundred lives, he would sooner lose them all than forfeit his word, or deduct from his proud nation one particle of its boasted honor. He was then set at liberty. He was advised to fly to the wilderness and make his escape. "But, no," said he, "do you think I prize life above honor; or that I would betray a confidence reposed in me for the sake of saving my life?" Nine days of the ten elapsed and his nation was not heard from, but Dekkerre remained firm, his fidelity unshaken, his countenance unmoved. It so happened that on that day Gen. Atkinson arrived; the order for the execution was countermanded, and the Indians were permitted to repair to their homes.
King John willingly returns to prison to honor his word, showing noble commitment and integrity.
John, king of France, left in
England two of his sons as hostages for the payment of his ransom. One of them, the Duke of Anjou, tired of his confinement in the tower of London, escaped to France. His father, more generous, proposed instantly to take his place; and, when the principal officers of his court remonstrated against his taking that honorable but dangerous measure, he told them, "Why, I myself was permitted to come out of the same prison in which my son was, in consequence of the treaty of Bretagne, which he has violated by his flight. I hold myself not a free man at present.
I fly to my prison. I am engaged to do it by my word; and if honor were banished from all the world, it should have an asylum in the breast of kings."
The magnanimous monarch accordingly proceeded to England, and became the second time a prisoner in the tower of
London, where he died in 1381.
