Sinners and Saints: A Tour Across the States and Round Them, with Three Months Among the Mormons

In Short

This book serves as both a travel diary and a social commentary, chronicling the author’s journey by rail from the Midwest through the mining towns of Colorado and into the heart of Utah. Written with the keen eye of a foreign correspondent, it moves beyond simple description to examine the distinct social experiments of the late nineteenth century. It is remembered today for its balanced, humanizing look at Mormon life and its vivid, often humorous sketches of a frontier defined by both immense natural beauty and the chaotic, rapid pace of American industrial expansion.

The Story

The narrative begins with a long, rattling rail journey across the vast, flat stretches of the American prairie. The author, a keen observer of human nature, moves from the bustling, industrial sprawl of Chicago toward the frontier. Along the way, he navigates the realities of "modern" travel, complaining about the quality of station food and the intrusive nature of railway commerce, all while comparing the American landscape to the colonial territories of Africa and India he knows so well.

As the train climbs toward the Rockies, the scenery shifts from monotonous plains to the dramatic crags of Echo Canyon. Upon arriving in Utah, the author’s tone shifts from the weary traveler to the inquisitive reporter. He immerses himself in the life of the "Saints," observing their religious services, their agricultural diligence, and their unique communal structure. He engages directly with the contentious issue of the day: polygamy. Rather than demonizing the practice as a foreign observer might, he treats it as a complex social and domestic problem, noting that it is far less prevalent and far more regulated by individual circumstance than the sensationalist press of the time would lead readers to believe.

The journey continues as the author visits various settlements, eventually finding himself in rural Mormon communities that seem idyllic in their quiet, neighborly simplicity. He explores the concept of Mormon communalism, particularly at the Orderville colony, where he analyzes the friction between the older generation’s religious zeal and the younger generation’s desire for individual economic agency. He does not shy away from the political pressures the Church faces, nor does he ignore the "Gentile" influence encroaching on the territory.

As the tour concludes, the author leaves the Wasatch ranges behind, traveling through the boomtowns of the mining districts and the stark, desert landscapes of the Southwest. He reflects on the "tyranny" of returning to formal civilization, contrasting the rugged, unpredictable life of the West—with its bankrupt millionaires, hard-bitten miners, and pioneer farmers—with the rigid, polished structures of the East and the life he knows in London. The book ends on a note of camaraderie, with the author bidding farewell to the frontier over a parting cocktail, acknowledging the strange, enduring appeal of a land that remains in a constant, restless state of "becoming."

How It Unfolds

The voyage begins The author sets out by rail from Chicago, capturing the tedious, flat expanse of the Midwest with a mix of dry wit and historical comparison. He notes the curious, loitering crowds at prairie stations and compares the Mississippi to the great rivers of India.

The mining frontier Moving into Colorado, the narrative takes a sharp turn into the gritty atmosphere of Leadville, where the author observes the sudden rise and "busting" of silver millionaires. He examines the philosophy of the American miner, finding them to be men who treat wealth as a fleeting, abstract game rather than a secure accumulation of capital.

Entering the Zion The journey reaches its climax in the territory of Utah, where the author trades his cynical traveler’s persona for that of a studious, if occasionally baffled, observer. He paints a vivid picture of the Mormon Tabernacle and the practical, temporal focus of the sermons he hears there.

Examining the social experiment The middle chapters delve into the heated political climate surrounding the Edmunds Bill and the domestic realities of polygamy. The author interviews members of the community, seeking to understand the actual lived experience of the Saints versus the caricatures presented in national headlines.

Toward the coast and the return The final leg of the tour takes the author through the California missions and back toward the urban centers of the East. He offers a concluding meditation on the nature of American progress, comparing the raw, chaotic growth of the West to the established, world-spanning commerce of London’s docks.

The People

The book is populated by a cast of archetypes and real-world figures who represent the shifting identity of the American West. The Mormon Apostles and community leaders—including John Taylor—are presented not as caricatures, but as pragmatic administrators balancing religious doctrine with the encroaching reality of federal law. They appear as men who are both fiercely loyal to their faith and keenly aware of their position on the national stage.

The "Busted" Millionaires of Leadville act as a counterpoint to the orderly, communal life of the Mormons. These men, who trade fortunes for "holes in the ground," embody the frantic, speculative spirit of the frontier. They are men of immense energy but little stability, and they reflect the author’s fascination with how quickly wealth can be created and lost in the American mining industry.

Finally, the "Ordinary Saints"—the farmers and laborers of the Utah valleys—provide the heart of the book. These are the individuals the author encounters in orchards and schools, and they are the ones who challenge his preconceptions. They are not merely religious zealots, but practical, neighborly people who are trying to carve out a quiet, sustainable existence in a harsh, unforgiving environment.

In Its Own Voice

"The better half of the journey passed on Sunday, and the people were all out in loitering, well-dressed groups 'to see the train pass,' and at the stations where we stopped, to see the passengers, too."

(The author captures the simple, communal curiosity of life in the quiet prairie towns of the Midwest.)

"I confess the Echo canyon is one of the masterpieces of Nature."

(The author pauses his social commentary to acknowledge the breathtaking, monumental geology of the American West.)

"There is something very humorous in this method of invalidating an obnoxious orator's arguments, for nothing weakens the force of a speech so much as the total absence of the audience."

(Reflecting on the rough-and-tumble political culture of the frontier, the author wryly describes the professional "chuckers-out.")

What It's Really About

The central argument of the book is that the American West cannot be understood through the lens of sensationalism or distant political dogma. The author is deeply concerned with the tension between "civilization"—the organized, often stifling systems of the East and Europe—and the rugged, experimental individualism of the frontier. He asks whether a society, such as the one built by the Mormons, can survive when forced to interact with the larger, often hostile national culture. Underlying the narrative is a profound curiosity about how different groups of people—miners, pioneers, and religious refugees—attempt to impose order on a landscape that seems to defy it. It is a work about the limits of human industry and the resilience of human community under pressure.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the classic travel writing of the nineteenth century will find much to admire here. The prose is elegant, witty, and deeply observational, possessing a tactile quality that makes the long-vanished landscapes of the 1880s feel immediate. You will feel as if you are sitting across from the author in a Pullman car, listening to his dry, astute critiques of the world passing outside the window.

However, the modern reader should be prepared for the author’s perspective as an educated, upper-class Victorian. His tone is occasionally condescending toward "the masses" and his observations on the Indigenous people he encounters are deeply rooted in the prejudices of his era. The book is long and discursive, often drifting into technical descriptions of mines or railroads that may test the patience of a casual reader. Yet, for those interested in the history of the American West, the book remains a fascinating primary source. It provides a rare, grounded look at the Latter-day Saint movement during a period of intense public scrutiny, stripping away the mythology to reveal the everyday struggles of a people trying to build a new world. What stays with you is the author's surprising capacity to find beauty and merit in a community the rest of the country was all too eager to condemn.