The mood of Death Comes for the Archbishop is consistently pious, serious, and romantic. Cather immerses the reader in an atmosphere of contemplation. There’s a sense of awe and reverence for the Southwestern landscape throughout, which surrounds the reader with a sense of its importance in the characters' lives. Through the narrator's vivid descriptions, readers are made to feel the sublime beauty of the natural world, with its sweeping deserts, towering mesas, and expansive skies.
The novel begins with a mood of nervous expectation, as the reader is made to feel the desperation of Latour’s journey to his mission and the foreignness of the mesa-dotted desert to his European eyes. As the narrative unfolds, tension and curiosity begin to build, driven by the cultural and religious clashes that punctuate the story. The encounters between the Catholic missionaries and New Mexico’s indigenous tribes, as well as the conflicts arising from differing belief systems, create a mood of consistent intrigue. There are obstacles to every development, which create tension, and regular moments of religious wonder and miraculous change.
However, the mood shifts downward as the novel progresses, and a sense of melancholy becomes consistently present. The novel’s title foreshadows this: no matter what Latour does, he knows he is working against the clock before “death comes.” The deaths of key figures in the story—as well as regular descriptions of violence against native populations and against women—evoke a deep sense of sadness and reflection for the reader. Although life in the Southwest can be majestically beautiful, Cather also underlines that it can be grindingly painful.
Breaking up this dour turn, there are also some moments of peace and spiritual reflection, where the narrative steps away from the intensity of life's challenges and Latour feels grateful for what he has been able to achieve. These moments offer readers a respite from the conflicts and uncertainties. As the story reaches its conclusion, the mood becomes reflective and solemn. Readers are left to ponder whether Latour’s work was ever really completed, and what it means to try and leave a legacy behind.