ome books against Deism came his way; but "the arguments of the Deists,
which were quoted to be refuted, appeared to me to be stronger than the
refutations; [and] I soon became a thorough Deist." Yet experience
straightway led this original pragmatist to the conclusion that,
although a materialistic philosophy of life "might be true, it was not
very useful." Without faith in religions, yet unable to do without
religion, he set down the list of virtues which he thought might be of
benefit to himself and at the same time of service to his fellows;
qualities which all the sects might unite in proclaiming good, and which
any man might easily acquire by a little persistence in self-discipline.
Aiming to become himself "completely virtuous," he dreamed of some day
formulating the universal principles of the "Art of Virtue," and of
uniting all good men throughout the world in a society for promoting the
practice of it. And what was this Art of Virtue but a socialized
religion divested of doctrine and ritual? "I think vital religion has
always suffered when orthodoxy is more regarded than virtue; and the
Scriptures assure me that at the last day we shall not be examined what
we _thought_, but what we _did_; and our recommendation will be that we
did good to our fellow creatures." The evangelist Whitefield, when
Franklin once promised to do him a personal service, assured the
philosopher that if he made that kind offer for Christ's sake he should
not miss a reward. It was in the spirit of the new age speaking to the
old that the sage replied: "Don't let me be mistaken; it was not for
Christ's sake, but for yours."

Franklin spoke indeed for the new age and the New World. He was the
first American: the very personification of that native sense of destiny
and high mission in the world, and of that good-natured tolerance for
the half-spent peoples of Europe, which is the American spirit; a living
and vocal product, as it were, of all the material and spiritual forces
that were transforming the people of the British plantations into a new
nation. All racial and religious antagonisms, all sectional and
intercolonial jealousies, all class prejudice, were in some manner
comprehended and reconciled in Franklin. He was as old as the century
and touched it at every point. What an inclusive experience was that of
this self-made provincial who as a printer's boy heard Increase Mather
preach in Boston and in his old age stood with Voltaire in