Benjamin Franklin was not America's foremost deist or its most famous Freemason. In this sprightly and persuasive book D. G. Hart establishes Franklin as a ‘cultural Protestant’. Franklin was well-read, steeped in Protestantism, but not a systematic theologian: ‘more of a tinkerer than a thinker’ (p. 148) as Hart puts it. Franklin sought a religion that increased civic righteousness but he did not see such a project in isolation from spirituality (p. 113). Although he was not a particularly observant Protestant, equally he was not a pragmatist interested only in observing how religion might further secular agendas. In a book full of arresting readings, Hart's account of Franklin's peculiar friendship with George Whitefield is particularly illuminating. Whitefield disliked deists but sympathised with Franklin's theological tinkerings. Franklin disliked theological punctilio and admired the social consequences of Whitefield's ministry. This gives rise to another of Hart's arresting discussions, that of ‘Protestant urbanism’ (chapter vi).

Even with, or perhaps because of, the addition of the qualifier ‘cultural’, this is an account that works from a capacious definition of ‘Protestant’. Hart's skilful discussion of Franklin's religious background, his adverse reaction to Presbyterianism and his late-life spiritual dialogue with Jane Mecom and Ezra Stiles ought to convince sceptical readers that Franklin was in a meaningful sense ‘Protestant’. Occasionally the claims to influence of such Protestantism is pushed too hard, as in the argument that if Franklin's views on marriage were progressive, that was because American Protestant views on marriage were progressive (c. p. 108). The ‘tinkerer’ theme is easier to establish – think of Franklin's famous ‘Plan for attaining moral perfection’ – but Hart weaves it carefully into his account. Indeed, this is an admirable introduction to Franklin as well as useful corrective to those more familiar with his life and thought. Why has the image of Franklin the rationalist, Franklin the deist, Franklin the critic of doctrinal punctilio endured? Partly because the image of Franklin as a cultural Protestant affronts sensibilities still shaped by the Enlightenment's assault on devotional dogma. Surely, we think, doubting Ben did not fail to see that he was having it both ways? Surely in the end Franklin plumped for rationalism. Surely his appeal to Providence at the Constitutional Convention was so much window-dressing. Yet we have known for some time that Franklin was, for example, an abolitionist who owned slaves. The contours of the spiritual life of doubting Ben, the devout deist, ably illuminated here, were likely shared by many of Franklin's neighbours. This beautifully rendered spiritual life captures both the man and his surroundings.