THE HEROINES OF JACK LONDON

Remember how Jack London, in his novel Martin Eden, described the protagonist's first meeting with Ruth Morse?

Ruth's brother brought Martin to the Morse's house. It was the first time that the young sailor entered a wealthy home. He saw a grand piano, books, pictures on the walls. Having grown up in dire need and poverty, Martin could not quite comprehend the sight of those luxurious rooms. Carefully, he walked around the grand piano. With admiration, he flipped the pages of the books. Meanwhile, Martin — this commoner with a sense of beauty — carried a kaleidoscope of images in his mind: jails, coal mines, decks, shelters. The images were obviously in sharp contrast with the view in front of him. And then, suddenly, "he turned around and saw the girl. The phantasmagoria of his brain vanished at the sight of her. She was a pale, ethereal creature, with wide spiritual blue eyes, and a wealth of golden hair. He did not know how she was dressed, except that the dress was as wonderful as she."

The novel told of the development and failure of love between Martin and Ruth. Their love stirred joy and pain in our hearts. Martin grew disappointed with his beloved. He understood the falsehood of the upper-class life style and Ruth's dependency on material things. Thus, after he attained fame and recognition, the writer Martin Eden committed suicide.

The autobiographical origins of the novel are well known. The prototype for Martin was Jack London himself, Ruth's character was taken from London's love, Mabel Applegarth. This fact came out many years after the death of both London and Mabel. At least five years after London's death, in a biography written by Charmian, Mabel was still mentioned under the pseudonym of the Lily Maid.

London's beloved Mabel was the daughter of a mining engineer who came to Oakland from England. She loved music and art, and was very well educated. She grew up in an intellectual family and was raised according to the conservative traditions of British culture. Mabel fell madly in love with Jack who at that time was persistently pursuing his literary career. However, the restraints of society were too strong, and her love not strong enough for her to be able to leave the house and entrust herself wholeheartedly to his lucky star.

I had been looking for Mabel's portrait for a long time. It was never published in Russia, nor had I seen it in any books published abroad. My attempts to find photographs of the woman who was the prototype for the heroine of Martin Eden in libraries and archives of the United States were unsuccessful. The desire to see the real Ruth Morse is quite understandable. It was too tempting to compare my image of Ruth made up by the novel to the fragmentary data of Mabel's biographers. I was able to find several pictures related to the life and creative work of Jack London. Among them were previously unpublished pictures of Jack and his daughter. However, I did not find a single picture of Mabel.

After my trip to the United States, in one of my letters to Joan London, I mentioned my unsuccessful searching. Joan wrote that they once had a single picture of Mabel in their house. But, she supposed, it was taken and not returned by one of London's biographers. Some time later, I received good news from Joan; the picture had been found, and she would send me a copy of it as soon as possible. "Here it is," wrote Joan in her next letter, "the picture of my mother, Mabel Applegarth herself, and my father in the garden of the house at the Applegarths in College Park. It was taken some time in 1899. Today, of course, College Park is a part of San Jose. Certainly, you remember San Jose—the city on the southern coast of San Francisco Bay, not far from Stanford University. Back then, there used to be a small college — hence is the name."

Anxiously, I opened the package with the photo. So this is what Mabel was like! A girl with tender skin, with blonde hair, a dainty idolatress of the beautiful. A rather ordinary young lady was looking at me from the photograph. She looked as if she wanted to smile, but did not have enough time for it. She just opened her mouth a little, showing her straight, slightly big teeth. A few curls framed her large forehead. She certainly was feminine and attractive. She also appeared somewhat light-hearted. The picture had been taken at exactly the time when everything was leading to the break up between Mabel and Jack. The face in the picture did not reflect any worries, however.

There in the photo was Jack, a skeptical grin of disillusionment on his lips. He nervously tousled a grass stem in his hands. The tie, put on especially for the trip to San Jose, had moved to the side. He was wearing a bicycle coat (he used to ride a bicycle to Mabel's house). His paper trousers were tucked into his socks. This was not Jack London, the writer yet, but rather, Jack London, an Oakland guy. However, by then, he already had completed his wanderings across America, his experiences on the Siberian coasts and the Klondike were behind him. He wrote a lot, trying to find his style and his theme, but hardly anything had gotten published. Living was hard for him, but he believed that he could become a real writer: he had a lot to say to the world.

With them in the picture stood Bessie, with her open face, modest hair style, and wearing an austere outfit. She looked distant. She had recently lost her fianc�. With her right hand, she wistfully petted the dog, which rested comfortably at her and Jack's feet. Near Mabel there was another dog. Mabel's hand rested on its back.

I found another picture in the library of the University of California—Berkeley, taken eight years later. Jack London was in his office in Oakland, with Charmian, his second wife. A lot had happened for Jack in eight years. He was famous.

He had already written four collections of stories of the North in addition to People of the Abyss, The Sea-Wolf, White Fang, and The Iron Heel. He was the author of sixteen books. Just recently, he had shocked the entire United States with speeches in defense of the Russian Revolution. London was known not only in America, but in England as well. His stories and his novel The Call of the Wild, had been translated into Russian.

The year of 1907 was a year of flourish and accomplishment. London began his best novel, Martin Eden, in which he portrayed himself and Mabel. His glance was full of confidence. In his hand, he held a piece of paper. In a second, he lit up a cigarette and started dictating stories to Charmian for the collection The Road. Charmian looked at Jack with adoration. She was a devoted friend who won Jack over from his partner, Bessie. Her left hand was on a typewriter, but she had forgotten all about typing. All of her attention was on Jack. All of his life, he dreamed of having a wife who would be his partner sharing his endeavors and his search for new roads.

Like him, Charmian was a Socialist. She rode on horseback and played piano wonderfully. She followed him to the ends of the earth, aboard the Snark. Bessie was down-to-earth. She needed stability in her life. Not Charmian! Charmian was a daughter of nature who despised convention—a devotion to which London hated in Mabel. Charmian was almost his ideal. Why almost? Because an ideal is unattainable. Charmian had many virtues compared to Mabel and Bessie. However, she lacked that enthusiastic romanticism and devotion to the global goal which was characteristic of Anna Strunsky, who was then far off amid the unrest in Russia.

There were many different images of women in London's works. His heroine was a courageous woman, capable of conducting her own life. It was a woman ready to share all life's difficulties with the man she loves (A Daughter of the Snows, The Valley of the Moon), and even sacrifice herself ("Grit of Women"). London's heroine was full of romantic aspirations and able to pursue dangerous sailing in the South Seas, the way Charmian did. She was not a meek toy, a mere decoration of the house. London saw his female characters as harmonious individuals. Like Mabel, they were able to conduct serious discussions about the poetry of Milton and Shelley, about the creative styles of Vereschagin and Koro. Also, they knew how to race horses and dive off a diving board, like Charmian (The Little Lady of the Big House).

In The Iron Heel, Jack London drew a verbal portrait of Avis, wife of Ernest Everhard, a revolutionary. Just like his admirable friend, Anna Strunsky, she was ready to give up her life for the good of the people. Certainly, images of Jack London's heroines were much broader and more complex than the images of these four women, to whom the writer felt so close. However, these prototypes played an important role in his creative works. There is some truth in the words of Joan London, who said that if it would have been possible to take these four women and “mix” them together, the result would have been the typical heroine of Jack London.