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

A Narrator's Voice: Wry Detachment and Direct Address

Robinson's prose is marked by a conversational, often sardonic tone. He describes Chicago as a place where one can observe "eligible sites for Kingdoms" and notes the "melancholy merry-makers" with a dry humor that undercuts grandiosity. His diction frequently shifts between formal observation and colloquial aside, as when he remarks on the "immorality of 'writing up'" a town. This voice is not merely stylistic; it establishes Robinson as a skeptical but engaged witness, one who questions the boosterism of the West while still finding value in its peculiarities.

Dialogue as Evidence: Letting Mormons Speak

Robinson frequently incorporates direct speech from his informants, both Mormon and Gentile. He reports a Mormon woman's assertion that "the standard of public morality among the Mormons of Utah is such as the Gentiles among them are either unable or unwilling to live up to," and records the Church's standing instruction to teachers: "If persons professing to be members of the Church be guilty of allowing drunkenness, Sabbath-breaking, profanity, defrauding or backbiting... they should be visited." These quotations serve as evidence for his arguments, allowing his subjects to articulate their own positions rather than relying solely on his interpretation.

Descriptive Detail: The Texture of Mormon Life

Robinson's descriptions are precise and sensory. He notes the "trimly-dressed damsel" who is the schoolmistress, the "curious, happy-go-lucky style" of schooling, and the shade trees that line every Mormon settlement. He observes that children "can regulate the amount of their own schooling as they please," a detail that grounds his critique of education in specific behavior. His description of the Church's "silent scrutiny into personal character" and the gradual withdrawal of fellowship for persistent vice offers a concrete picture of social control, avoiding abstract moralizing.

Structure and Contrast: Framing the Saints

The book's journey from New York to Utah is itself a structural choice. By first depicting the raucous, competitive energy of Chicago and Denver—where "busted millionaires" and "man-eating Tiger" (a newspaper) thrive—Robinson creates a foil for the ordered, work-driven society of Deseret. He explicitly contrasts the "melancholy merry-makers" of the East with the Mormon motto "Work" as the watch-word of their faith. This framing allows him to present polygamy and Church discipline not as exotic aberrations but as logical, if controversial, responses to the same frontier conditions that produce Gentile excess.

Robinson's account is valuable not for its conclusions—which he himself hedges—but for the texture of its evidence. Readers should attend to the way he lets his subjects speak, the specificity of his observations, and the wry, self-aware voice that guides the narrative. The book is less a verdict on Mormonism than a record of one observer's encounter with a society that defied easy judgment.

Phil Robinson found character in dusty roadways and crowded pews, where faith gets weighed against living. That careful eye always puts me in mind of another traveler, one who measured survival among the Pigmy peoples with equal patience. Both knew that truth hides not in grand declarations, but in the worn details. On the borders of pigmy land — Reading Notes rests beside my copy, old friends in quiet conversation.