bottom a sentimentalist, Jack London
's formula was that at bottom every man is a brute.
Each theory gave provender enough for a short-story writer to carry on his back, but is hardly adequate, by itself, for a very long voyage over human life.
“Joaquin” (Cincinnatus Heine
, who was born in 1841 and died in 1913, had even less of a formula for the West
than Jack London
He was a word-painter of its landscapes, a rider over its surfaces.
Cradled “in a covered wagon pointing West,” mingling with wild frontier life from Alaska
, miner, Indian fighter, hermit, poseur in London
, then hermit again in California
, the author of Songs of the Sierras
at least knew his material.
, whom he adored and imitated, could have invented nothing more romantic than Joaquin's life; but though Joaquin inherited Scotch intensity, he had nothing of the close mental grip of the true Scot and nothing of his humor.
Vast stretches of his poetry are empty; some of it is grandiose, elemental, and yet somehow artificial, as even the Grand Canyon
itself looks at certain times.
, another immigrant Scot who reached California
in 1868, had far more stuff in him than Joaquin Miller
He had studied geology, botany,