The City of the Saints, and Across the Rocky Mountains to California

In Short

This work is a substantial, detailed travelogue chronicling a transcontinental journey from the Missouri frontier to the Great Salt Lake in 1860. The author, a seasoned explorer with a keen eye for both landscape and human behavior, traverses the plains, deserts, and mountain passes of the American West to reach the heart of the Mormon territory. Once there, he provides an extensive account of the geography, social organization, and theological underpinnings of the Latter-Day Saints. The book has endured as a primary historical source because it captures a transformative moment in American westward expansion through the lens of a sophisticated, if occasionally acerbic, outsider who refuses to view the Mormons through the simplistic lenses of contemporary prejudice. By meticulously recording the mundane realities of pioneer life alongside the lofty ambitions of a religious sect, the narrative creates a vivid, multifaceted portrait of a society in the process of defining itself against the wider American Union.

The Story

The journey begins at the edge of the "Far West," where the author encounters the raw and often squalid conditions of early squatter settlements. He describes a landscape of "pitch-holes" and "gullies" that punish travel, yet he finds himself captivated by the sheer scale and austere beauty of the Nebraska plains and the Platte River valley. His narrative is filled with the sensory details of the trail: the biting cold of the mountain nights, the relentless irritation of mosquitoes, and the constant, wearying labor of keeping mules and wagons moving across rugged, unpredictable terrain. He interacts with various figures along the way—hardscrabble families, weary soldiers, and French-Creole station keepers—and offers unflattering, often blunt assessments of the various Indian tribes he encounters, viewing them through the era's complex and often biased understanding of their customs and characters.

As the party moves closer to the Mormon heartland, the tone of the narrative shifts from simple adventure to sociological study. The author leaves the wilderness behind and enters the "Mormonland," observing the unique blend of religious fervor and practical industriousness that characterizes the Saints. He describes the physical development of Great Salt Lake City with the precision of a geographer, detailing its layout, its public buildings, and the persistent, challenging nature of its environment. His interest, however, remains centered on the people. He investigates their social habits, noting their surprising fondness for dancing and theatricals, which contrast sharply with the austere, disciplined religious image many outsiders held of them.

The arc of the book reaches its core inquiry when the author examines the religious and political structures that sustain the Mormon community. He provides an extensive, critical analysis of their theology, including their reliance on the Book of Mormon and the revelations of Joseph Smith. He delves into the controversial practice of polygamy, presenting it not merely as a moral failing in the eyes of his contemporaries, but as a deeply embedded social and religious law that defines the hierarchy and survival of the Mormon state. He chronicles the tensions between the Saints and the federal government, documenting the mutual distrust and the recurring conflicts that threaten the fragile peace of the territory.

The narrative concludes not with a simple arrival, but with a lingering sense of observation. The author remains a critical, often skeptical, participant-observer, highlighting the hypocrisy he perceives on both sides—the "Gentile" federal officials and the Mormon leadership. He records the minutiae of daily life, such as the discovery of coal deposits or the local administration of justice, to underscore the reality of a society attempting to build a permanent home in a "trough" between mountain ranges. By the end, he has mapped not only the geography of the Great Basin but the complex, often contradictory moral and political map of a people who consider themselves a nation apart. The final sections offer an exhaustive index and itinerary, grounding his grand observations in the practical, hard-won reality of the miles covered and the logistical hurdles overcome to reach, and eventually leave, the "City of the Saints."

How It Unfolds

The voyage begins The author sets out from the Missouri frontier, documenting the grueling reality of travel across the prairies where infrastructure is minimal and the terrain, marked by treacherous gullies, tests the endurance of both man and beast. He captures the daily rhythms of the trail, from the scarcity of decent food to the constant, shifting weather patterns that define the life of an overland traveler.

Crossing the plains The narrative moves into the heart of the "Great Platte," where the author observes the stark, expansive beauty of the river valley and the persistent, often irritating presence of local wildlife and insects. He encounters small, isolated stations where the quality of life varies wildly, providing a glimpse into the precarious existence of those who service the growing westward migration.

The mountain barrier As the expedition climbs toward the Continental Divide, the environment becomes increasingly hostile, with freezing temperatures and rugged, high-altitude passes. The author details the logistical challenges of moving heavy wagons through these mountain corridors and observes the geological features that make the region a formidable barrier to progress.

Into the Great Basin Descending into the Utah territory, the text shifts focus to the unique geographical depression of the Great Basin, where the author notes the reliance on mountain water for survival. The description moves from the natural landscape to the human geography, as he begins to encounter the settlements and influence of the Latter-Day Saints.

Life in Zion The author provides a detailed, granular look at Great Salt Lake City, analyzing everything from its architecture to its social life. He explores the communal nature of the Mormon experience, observing their theatrical performances, their disciplined social gatherings, and the pervasive influence of their leadership in daily affairs.

The theological inquiry The final movement of the book is a deep, critical examination of Mormon doctrine, law, and history. The author synthesizes his observations on the structure of their society, the political friction with the United States government, and the religious conviction that drives the community to endure in such an isolated environment.

The People

The author, Richard Francis Burton, remains the central figure—a man of vast curiosity, deep skepticism, and an unwavering, if sometimes cynical, drive to understand the world as it is rather than as he might wish it to be. He enters the territory with the detached, clinical eye of a seasoned traveler, yet he is clearly fascinated by the resilience and the "fanaticism" of the people he documents. He is never a mere spectator; he asks difficult questions, challenges assumptions, and is willing to engage with anyone from a disgruntled station keeper to a Mormon official, all while maintaining a steadfast, sometimes abrasive, commitment to his own intellectual independence.

Brigham Young occupies a towering, if distant, presence throughout the narrative. Though not a character in the sense of a fictional protagonist, he is the force that defines the environment the author explores. He is portrayed as the architect of a "theodemocracy," a man whose influence permeates the social, political, and spiritual life of the Saints. The author views him with a blend of respect for his organizational prowess and profound disagreement with his theological and marital system, framing him as the "Grand Lama" of a unique and isolated empire.

Joseph Smith is the foundational ghost of the narrative. Through the author’s examination of early Mormon history and the destruction of the Nauvoo Expositor, Smith is revealed as the architect of the faith’s survival and its early, violent persecution. The author treats him as a significant figure in the American landscape, one whose legacy—the "inspired translation" of scripture and the development of the church’s hierarchy—is the primary obstacle to integration with the rest of the nation.

The rank-and-file Mormons—from the Welsh miners in Salt Lake to the various "Elders" encountered on the road—serve as the reality check for the author’s theoretical investigations. He observes them as individuals—hard-working, sometimes stubborn, and often defensive—who are laboring to build a coherent society. He also focuses on the role of women within this structure, particularly their position within the polygamous system, and he notes the strain and the social order that this practice imposes on their daily lives. By recording their voices and their reactions to his inquiries, he prevents the Mormons from becoming a monolith, showing them to be as complex and varied as the rugged landscape they inhabit.

In Its Own Voice

The aspect of things at Cold Springs, where we were allowed an hour’s halt to dine and to change mules, somewhat dismayed our fine-weather prairie travelers.

The author describes the grim, often miserable reality of the remote, squalid stations that dotted the early mail-routes.

The Mormon leaders, who now flourish in the Mountain Territory, and who expect eventually to flourish over the whole earth, “are naturally prepared to hate and denigrate all beyond the pale of their own faith.”

Reflecting on the mutual suspicion between the Saints and the broader American society, the author highlights the ideological isolation that defined their relationship.

If God shall count him worthy of a hundred fold in this life of wives and children, and houses, and lands, and kindreds, he may even aspire to patriarchal sovereignty, to empire; to be the prince or head of a tribe or tribes.

In explaining the religious justification for polygamy, the author quotes the internal logic of the Mormon leadership regarding patriarchal power.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an investigation into the nature of societal survival and the power of belief to reshape a landscape. The author is deeply concerned with the question of whether a religious community can exist as a "state within a state" in the heart of a rapidly expanding, democratic union. He uses the Mormon experience in Utah as a case study for the collision between established American norms and the "wild and terrible shape" of religious fanaticism that observers like Robert Southey had long feared.

The book is also a meditation on the concept of "civilization." The author constantly contrasts the refinements of European and American culture with the harsh, adaptive necessities of the frontier. He asks whether the moral and social laws of the nineteenth century are universal or merely local preferences, and he frequently uses his own background as an experienced world traveler to challenge the "respectability" and the "cant" of his contemporaries. The narrative functions as a critique of both the narrow-mindedness of the American government and the insularity of the Mormon sect. It is a work about the limits of tolerance, the definition of treason, and the persistent, often violent, friction that occurs when a new, confident society attempts to carve out its own version of a promised land in the midst of a wilderness.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the gritty, unvarnished accounts of the nineteenth-century frontier will find this book an essential, if challenging, companion. It is not a romanticized version of the West; it is a document of sweat, dust, and intellectual rigor. The author’s voice is remarkably modern in its skepticism and its refusal to be swayed by the prevailing political rhetoric of his time. If you appreciate a writer who takes the time to describe the exact, painful geometry of a mountain pass or the precise, bureaucratic absurdity of a local ordinance, you will find much to admire here.

However, the reader must be prepared for the author’s period attitudes. His descriptions of Indian tribes are frequently blunt, dismissive, and laden with the racial biases of his era; he does not attempt to offer a sympathetic or "modern" view of indigenous cultures. Similarly, his prose is dense with the Victorian habit of long, winding sentences, frequent classical allusions, and a vocabulary that demands attention. The book is also undeniably long and occasionally repetitive, particularly in its focus on the minute details of the mail-route itinerary.

Despite these hurdles, the book remains a classic because of its sheer density of observation. It offers a rare, ground-level view of a society that was, at the time, the subject of intense national anxiety. You will walk away from these pages with a vivid, tactile sense of what it felt like to traverse the American interior during the brink of the Civil War. It is a haunting, intellectual, and deeply grounded piece of writing that refuses to simplify the human experience, leaving the reader to navigate the moral complexities of the Mormons' bold, controversial experiment alongside the author. It is a demanding read, but one that rewards the patient reader with a profound understanding of how a landscape and a faith can shape one another.