Of all our national holidays, I for one will attest to the splendor and glory that President’s Day holds for me. Ever since I was a young boy leafing through my parent’s set of encyclopedias and came across the pictures of our 37 (at that time) chief executives, I’ve been fascinated by the men who have selflessly given their service, and in some cases their lives, to lead this nation we love so dearly. And, as is the case with many things in life, I can’t help but root for the underdog even when it comes to ranking my favorite presidents. Maybe it stems from James Buchanan, often considered the worst of all when ranked by scholars and historians, having been born in my home county of Franklin, some 220 years ago. Other names come to mind also as favorite sons never given much credit for their roles in shaping our history: Millard Fillmore, Rutherford Hayes, Chester Arthur, and Warren Harding. But the man I would focus on today is our fourteenth president. A handsome, young, military hero son of New Hampshire. A friend of such literary and historical contemporaries as Nathaniel Hawthorne, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, and, unfortunately, Jefferson Davis. Known as Young Hickory of the Granite Hills, his name was Franklin Pierce.
Did Franklin Pierce even come close to resembling a good president? No. But the argument can be made that his failings in national politics make him all the more interesting of a subject to study. We can learn much from the mistakes of those who precede us. And when we look closely at Pierce the man, we find tragic and sad circumstances in his personal life that could not be cured, but only intensified, by an elevated career and the cumbersome mantle of the presidency. Pierce battled alcoholism for much of his life. And even upon his retirement from public life, his opponents never ceased to point out claims as a Southern sympathizer, cowardice as a soldier, and questions of his patriotism. But at the forefront of this man’s life was his family: His wife, Jane, and his three sons. Their first son died at birth. The second son died at the age of four from typhoid fever. The third son, Bennie, was tragically killed in a train derailment accident just two months before Pierce was inaugurated. Still in mourning, Pierce’s wife suffered from depression and locked herself away in the upstairs of the White House for much of his presidency, writing letters to her dead sons. Imagine the weight of such responsibilities on one man: professional, spiritual, physical, emotional, political, psychological, social, personal and national. All the more reason to consider his survival of four years in office as a success.
The following lines from Pierce’s 1853 inaugural address summed up much of what weighed heavily on this 48-year old man’s heart: “I ought to be, and am, truly grateful for the rare manifestation of the nation's confidence; but this, so far from lightening my obligations, only adds to their weight. You have summoned me in my weakness; you must sustain me by your strength.” Unfortunately, our nation was also facing a tumult of epic proportions that failed to sustain even the slightest weakness in our chosen leader. When we read of tragedies, both on personal and national levels, like those faced by President Pierce; perhaps it can give us strength to know that a realization of our weakness is the first step in spiritual recovery. When we can face our demons and understand that true strength comes only from the saving power of Jesus Christ; when we can rely on His promises and His truth in the face of both curses and blessings; and when we can emerge reborn in His likeness from the depths of despair and misery . . . then we can experience what Franklin Pierce desperately cried out for from His country on the East Portico of the Capitol Building. Sustenance like no other from the unmatched strength of a perfect Savior for a body weak in faith and born into a sinful and broken world. The context of history may paint different legacies for all men, but great or otherwise, we all fall short of expectations without the love of the Lamb of God. May the history books be tempered with the grace and mercy He has shown each of us. And let him who is without fault, cast the first stone. Amen.