PREFACE.
Upon my return to the United States a few
months ago, after the extraordinary series of adventure
in the South Seas and elsewhere, of which
an account is given in the following pages, accident
threw me into the society of several gentlemen in
Richmond, Va., who felt deep interest in all matters
relating to the regions I had visited, and who
were constantly urging it upon me, as a duty, to
give my narrative to the public. I had several
reasons, however, for declining to do so, some of
which were of a nature altogether private, and concern
no person but myself; others not so much so.
One consideration which deterred me was, that,
having kept no journal during a greater portion of
the time in which I was absent, I feared I should
not be able to write, from mere memory, a statement
so minute and connected as to have the appearance
of that truth it would really possess, barring
only the natural and unavoidable exaggeration
to which all of us are prone when detailing events
which have had powerful influence in exciting the
imaginative faculties. Another reason was, that
the incidents to be narrated were of a nature so positively
marvellous, that, unsupported as my assertions
must necessarily be (except by the evidence of
a single individual, and he a half-breed Indian), I
could only hope for belief among my family, and
those of my friends who have had reason, through
life, to put faith in my veracity—the probability
being that the public at large would regard what I
should put forth as merely an impudent and ingenious
fiction. A distrust in my own abilities as
a writer was, nevertheless, one of the principal
causes which prevented me from complying with
the suggestions of my advisers.
Among those gentlemen in Virginia who expressed
the greatest interest in my statement, more
particularly in regard to that portion of it which related
to the Antarctic Ocean, was Mr. Poe, lately
editor of the Southern Literary Messenger, a
monthly magazine, published by Mr. Thomas W.
White, in the city of Richmond. He strongly advised
me, among others, to prepare at once a full
account of what I had seen and undergone, and
trust to the shrewdness and common sense of the
public—insisting, with great plausibility, that however
roughly, as regards mere authorship, my book
should be got up, its very uncouthness, if there
were any, would give it all the better chance of
being received as truth.
Notwithstanding this representation, I did not
make up my mind to do as he suggested. He
afterward proposed (finding that I would not stir in
the matter) that I should allow him to draw up, in
his own words, a narrative of the earlier portion of
my adventures, from facts afforded by myself, publishing
it in the Southern Messenger under the garb
of fiction. To this, perceiving no objection, I consented,
stipulating only that my real name should
be retained. Two numbers of the pretended fiction
appeared, consequently, in the Messenger for
January and February (1837), and, in order that it
might certainly be regarded as fiction, the name
of Mr. Poe was affixed to the articles in the table
of contents of the magazine.
The manner in which this ruse was received
has induced me at length to undertake a regular
compilation and publication of the adventures in
question; for I found that, in spite of the air of fable
which had been so ingeniously thrown around
that portion of my statement which appeared in
the Messenger (without altering or distorting a
single fact), the public were still not at all disposed
to receive it as fable, and several letters were sent
to Mr. P.'s address distinctly expressing a conviction
to the contrary. I thence concluded that the
facts of my narrative would prove of such a nature
as to carry with them sufficient evidence of their
own authenticity, and that I had consequently little
to fear on the score of popular incredulity.
This exposé being made, it will be seen at once
how much of what follows I claim to be my own
writing; and it will also be understood that no fact
is misrepresented in the first few pages which
were written by Mr. Poe. Even to those readers
who have not seen the Messenger, it will be
unnecessary to point out where his portion ends
and my own commences; the difference in point
of style will be readily perceived.
A. G. Pym.
New-York, July, 1838.
