[Frontispiece: With my back against a golden throne, I fought onceagain for Dejah Thoris]
A PRINCESS OF MARS
by
Edgar Rice Burroughs
To My Son Jack
FOREWORD
To the Reader of this Work:
In submitting Captain Carter's strange manuscript to you in book form,I believe that a few words relative to this remarkable personality willbe of interest.
My first recollection of Captain Carter is of the few months he spentat my father's home in Virginia, just prior to the opening of the civilwar. I was then a child of but five years, yet I well remember thetall, dark, smooth-faced, athletic man whom I called Uncle Jack.
He seemed always to be laughing; and he entered into the sports of thechildren with the same hearty good fellowship he displayed toward thosepastimes in which the men and women of his own age indulged; or hewould sit for an hour at a time entertaining my old grandmother withstories of his strange, wild life in all parts of the world. We allloved him, and our slaves fairly worshipped the ground he trod.
He was a splendid specimen of manhood, standing a good two inches oversix feet, broad of shoulder and narrow of hip, with the carriage of thetrained fighting man. His features were regular and clear cut, hishair black and closely cropped, while his eyes were of a steel gray,reflecting a strong and loyal character, filled with fire andinitiative. His manners were perfect, and his courtliness was that ofa typical southern gentleman of the highest type.
His horsemanship, especially after hounds, was a marvel and delighteven in that country of magnificent horsemen. I have often heard myfather caution him against his wild recklessness, but he would onlylaugh, and say that the tumble that killed him would be from the backof a horse yet unfoaled.
When the war broke out he left us, nor did I see him again for somefifteen or sixteen years. When he returned it was without warning, andI was much surprised to note that he had not aged apparently a moment,nor had he changed in any other outward way. He was, when others werewith him, the same genial, happy fellow we had known of old, but whenhe thought himself alone I have seen him sit for hours gazing off intospace, his face set in a look of wistful longing and hopeless misery;and at night he would sit thus looking up into the heavens, at what Idid not know until I read his manuscript years afterward.
He told us that he had been prospecting and mining in Arizona part ofthe time since the war; and that he had been very successful wasevidenced by the unlimited amount of money with which he was supplied.As to the details of his life during these years he was very reticent,in fact he would not talk of them at all.
He remained with us for about a year and then went to New York, wherehe purchased a little place on the Hudson, where I visited him once ayear on the occasions of my trips to the New York market--my father andI owning and operating a string of general stores throughout Virginiaat that time. Captain Carter had a small but beautiful cottage,situated on a bluff overlooking the river, and during one of my lastvisits, in the winter of 1885, I observed he was much occupied inwriting, I presume now, upon this manuscript.
He told me at this time that if anything should happen to him he wishedme to take charge of his estate, and he gave me a key to a compartmentin the safe which stood in his study, telling me I would find his willthere and some personal instructions which he had me pledge myself tocarry out with absolute fidelity.
After I had retired for the night I have seen him from my windowstanding in the moonlight on the brink of the bluff overlooking theHudson with his arms stretched out to the heavens as though in appeal.I thought at the time that he was praying, although I never understoodthat he was in the strict sense of the term a religious man.
Several months after I had returned home from my last visit, the firstof March, 1886, I think, I received a telegram from him asking me tocome to him at once. I had always been his favorite among the youngergeneration of Carters and so I hastened to comply with his demand.
I arrived at the little station, about a mile from his grounds, on themorning of March 4, 1886, and when I asked the livery man to drive meout to Captain Carter's he replied that if I was a friend of theCaptain's he had some very bad news for me; the Captain had been founddead shortly after daylight that very morning by the watchman attachedto an adjoining property.
For some reason this news did not surprise me, but I hurried out to hisplace as quickly as possible, so that I could take charge of the bodyand of his affairs.
I found the watchman who had discovered him, together with the localpolice chief and several townspeople, assembled in his little study.The watchman related the few details connected with the finding of thebody, which he said had been still warm when he came upon it. It lay,he said, stretched full length in the snow with the arms outstretchedabove the head toward the edge of the bluff, and when he showed me thespot it flashed upon me that it was the identical one where I had seenhim on those other nights, with his arms raised in supplication to theskies.
There were no marks of violence on the body, and with the aid of alocal physician the coroner's jury quickly reached a decision of deathfrom heart failure. Left alone in the study, I opened the safe andwithdrew the contents of the drawer in which he had told me I wouldfind my instructions. They were in part peculiar indeed, but I havefollowed them to each last detail as faithfully as I was able.
He directed that I remove his body to Virginia without embalming, andthat he be laid in an open coffin within a tomb which he previously hadhad constructed and which, as I later learned, was well ventilated.The instructions impressed upon me that I must personally see that thiswas carried out just as he directed, even in secrecy if necessary.
His property was left in such a way that I was to receive the entireincome for twenty-five years, when the principal was to become mine.His further instructions related to this manuscript which I was toretain sealed and unread, just as I found it, for eleven years; nor wasI to divulge its contents until twenty-one years after his death.
A strange feature about the tomb, where his body still lies, is thatthe massive door is equipped with a single, huge gold-plated springlock which can be opened _only from the inside_.
Yours very sincerely,
Edgar Rice Burroughs.
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