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EDGAR
RICE
BURROUGHS
THE RETURN
o f TARZAN
By
EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS
W H I T M A N P U B L I S H I N G CO
RACINE, WISCONSIN
C O P Y R I G H T , 1936, B Y
E p G A R RIC E B U R R O U G H S , IN C .
T A R Z A N A , C A L IF .
PRINTED IN U .S .A .
T A B L E OF CO NTENTS
Chapter Page
I Trapped by Apaches............... 9
II Set Upon by A rabs...................... 38
III Fired at in the D ark................ 64
IV Attacked by a Lion.................. 90
V Thrown Into a S e a ...................118
VI A t the Mercy of Num a______ 142
V II Opposed by an Elephant..........174
V III Made King of the Blacks..........210
IX Caught by Sun Priests..............242
X L eft in Pitch Blackness............282
XI Among the Great A pes............308
X II A t the Sacrificial A ltar............330
X III Clayton’s F a te ........................... 362
X IV Back to Civilization.................. 392
A Young Man Stood by the Rail
THE RETURN OF TARZAN
CHAPTEE ONE
Trapped by Apaches
A.G REAT ocean liner was near
ing France. Aboard her, standing
by the rail, a nattily dressed young
man gazed thoughtfully over the
water. Few would have recognized
him, but he was none other than
Tarzan o f the Apes.
9
10 R E T U R N OF T A R Z A N
fo r playing dishonestly.
Tarzan arose as the two other
men closed in between the dispu
tants. As the guilty one tried to
sneak away, he saw his exit barred
by Tarzan’s tall figure.
Tarzan dragged the villain back
to his astonished victims.
“ I saw him cheating,” Tarzan
told them as the man struggled in
his grasp.
He learned that the man was
Nikolas Rokoff, a scoundrel.
Tarzan Dragged the Villain Back
18 R E T U R N OF T A R Z A N
In the first theme group there are three distinct themes. The first is
announced at once (D minor) by the first violin, a theme not unlike
one of Richard Strauss’. In the fourteenth measure the second
theme is brought in by the second violin (D-flat major). This is taken
up by the first violin, the whole period being eight measures long.
The third theme (etwas langsamer) is a combination of a melodic
formula (first and second violins) and characteristic harmonies (viola
and cello). There follow many pages of polyphonic working with this
threefold material. The first theme of the group may be said to
predominate. It appears in varied shape throughout the separate
parts.
After this adagio comes the second theme group, just as the second
theme in the restatement section of the classical sonata form.
Hence we have one huge movement in sonata form, our old familiar
exposition, with its first and second themes and its transitional
passages; its development—in which a scherzo is incorporated; its
restatement of both themes—with a new transitional passage
between them in the shape of an adagio—and its broad, completing
coda. The mind of a man has conceived it; and the mind of man can
comprehend it.
The first movement begins and ends in F-sharp minor, and there are
two distinct themes: the opening theme (first violin), and, after a
broad ritard, a second theme (first violin, sehr ausdrucksvoll). The
time is measured yet often free. After a development of the two
themes there is a fermata, and then a restatement of them; so that
on the whole the movement is not difficult to follow, though the
second half is complex and long.
Both the third and the fourth movements bring in a soprano voice.
The words are from Stephan George;[81] the titles: Litanei and
Entrückung. Here Schönberg has gone beyond the string quartet,
and here properly we may leave him. The instruments are busy
during the Litanei with motives from the first and second movements.
The voice is independent of them. There is enormous dramatic force
in the climax at the words:
[76] See Max Kalbeck: Johannes Brahms, Vol. II, part 2, p. 442.
[77] Kalbeck has called attention to the resemblance between these two motives
and the Erda-motif and the Walhalla-motif in Das Rheingold and Die Walküre.
I
The trios of the seventeenth century—the Sonate a tre—were written
for three concertizing instruments and a figured bass, really four
parts in all. During the eighteenth century the word trio took on quite
a different significance and was applied to compositions written for
the harpsichord with one other solo instrument, violin, oboe, or flute,
like the violin sonatas of Bach. Vaguely at the time of the young
Haydn, clearly when Mozart entered the world of music, the word
took on the meaning that it still holds today: a composition written for
three instruments, pianoforte, violin and cello. If another combination
of instruments is meant, then those instruments are usually
specifically designated in the title of the work.
The Haydn Trios are of little importance. There are thirty-five in all,
and it has been said that the majority were written for a patron who
played the cello a very little. Hence one finds the cello part in this
combination to be merely a duplication of the bass part of the
pianoforte, having little independent movement of its own; and the
works are rather sonatas with violin than trios.
Mozart, on the other hand, treated the combination with a fine sense
of the effects that could be made with it. He gave to each of the three
instruments a free line of its own, and made fine use of the
possibilities of tonal contrast and color. There are eight trios in all.
They are not representative of Mozart’s best, though there is not one
in which Mozart’s inimitable grace is lacking; but in spite of their
slenderness they may be considered the first pianoforte trios in the
modern sense, and to have set the model for subsequent works in
that form.
These are not very numerous, if one excludes from them a great
number of fantasias or popular operas such as were written by
Woelfl, Nicholas Lomi and other composers of the virtuoso type. Nor
does the form show much development except that which
accompanies an improvement in pianofortes and a progress in
technical skill on all these instruments. Only a few trios stand out
conspicuously as having high musical worth, or as having been a
worthy expression of genius.
The two trios of Schubert, opus 99, in B-flat, and opus 100 in E-flat,
are full of inspiration, and Schubert’s fancy is so delicate that on the
whole he may be said to have succeeded with the combination.
Certainly the little canon which forms the Scherzo in the second trio
is a masterpiece of style. Also the announcement of the chief theme
in the first trio and the way in which it is developed cannot be found
fault with; nor is the charming D-flat section in the finale less perfect.
But in the scherzo there are rather weak accompaniments scored for
the strings in the orchestral manner of double stops, and there are
similar passages at the beginning of the transition to the second
theme in the first movement of the second trio. These are here
acceptable because of the sheer beauty of the material which is thus
presented; but one cannot deny that this would find even lovelier
expression with a group of three strings. In the Andante con moto
the impropriety of style is more evident; but one will forgive anything
in this inspired movement, which later is to stand like a shadow
behind the Marcia in Schumann’s great pianoforte quintet.
In the first movement of the C major trio the violin and cello seem
like two noble and equal voices throughout. Their course is bold and
free. They are never overshadowed by the pianoforte. It seems to be
largely Brahms’ treatment of the cello that makes these works so
perfectly satisfying in sound and style. He showed always a
fondness for deep low notes. Sometimes his music suffers from it.
But here, in these trios, it gains immensely. For, as we have said,
one of the greatest difficulties of writing in good style for this
combination of instruments is to be met in handling the low notes of
the cello. Brahms seems to have done it almost instinctively. From
the beginning of the first movement, with its full-throated octaves, to
the very end of the whole, the cello never for one measure fails to
equal the violin in effectiveness. Very often they are made to play
together in octaves, and in places, as in the course of the second
theme, they hold long notes two octaves apart, defining the sonority
so to speak, within the limits of which the piano moves alone, filling
the wide space with richest sound. Again, at the beginning of the
Andante con moto violin and cello are two octaves apart. He
combines them in bold chords which challenge the pianoforte, assert
their own independence, as here, not long before the middle section
of this andante, or at the beginning of the trio in C minor, opus 101.
He allows one fully to support the other without the pianoforte, as in
the Andante Grazioso of the C minor. All through these truly
magnificent works one is struck by the comradeship and equality of
the two strings, and this, together with the way the pianoforte is
adapted to them, leads us to say that there are no trios so perfect in
style as these two of Brahms. It might even be added that it would be
hard to match them in nobility of content.
Dvořák’s trios are worthy of study. Of the three—in G minor, opus 26,
in F minor, opus 65, and the Dumky, opus 90—the last two are the
most interesting, and also the most Bohemian in character. The
treatment of the pianoforte is brilliant. At times the cello is used a
little unworthily, that is to say, merely to accentuate low notes or to
add a sort of barbaric strumming; yet on the whole Dvořák’s
treatment of the two strings is not very unlike that of Brahms. There
is a great deal of octave playing between them, notably at the very
beginning of opus 65, in the second section of the allegretto, and
now and then in the various sections of the Dumky. The cello is
given long and impassioned solos, or takes a full part with the violin
in dialogues. On the whole Dvořák makes more use of the upper
registers; but again, in the manner of Brahms, he knows how to use
the low without concealing it beneath the heavier tone of the piano.
The whole section, vivace non troppo, which follows the first poco
adagio, is excellently scored for the three instruments. Notice how at
first the cello holds a low C-sharp, supporting the light melody of the
violin and the light staccato accompaniment of the piano; how as the
music grows more furious the cello adds a G-sharp above its C-
sharp. When at last the piano breaks into the melody, violin and cello
take equal parts in the series of sharp, detached chords which
accent its rhythm. Again the melody is given to the violin, an octave
higher than at first, and the cello gives an accompaniment of single
notes and chords, while between the two the piano plays the
whirlwind. After all this subsides, the cello rises up from the deep in a
broad solo cadenza. It must be granted that the musical value of the
notes allotted to the cello in this section is not high; but the point is
the admirable spacing of the three instruments which allows each to
display a peculiar sonority and all to join in a rich and exceedingly
animated and varied whole. Elsewhere in these trios there is a fine
polyphonic style. Much of the vitality of the music comes from the
vivid nature of the national rhythms and melodies out of which it is
constructed. These trios, then, are hardly comparable to the classic
trios of Brahms. Yet they seem to be the most effective and the most
successful trios that have been written since Beethoven, with the
exception only of Brahms’ two and Tschaikowsky’s one.
The French composers have not given much attention to the trio.
César Franck’s first works were three short trios, but they are without
conspicuous merit. Two trios by Lalo are pleasingly scored. Among
the trios of Saint-Saëns that in E-flat major, opus 18, is the most
effective. The pianoforte part is especially brilliant, yet does not
throw the combination out of adjustment.
II
There are more brilliant and more distinguished works for the
combination of pianoforte, violin, viola, and cello. Inasmuch as one of
the difficulties in writing trios is the wide spaces between the natural
registers of cello and violin, and this is here filled up by the viola, the
pianoforte quartets of the last fifty years maintain a higher standard
than the trios. Moreover the general effect is more satisfactory,
because the three strings have naturally an independent and
complete life, and are more equal to withstanding the onslaughts of
the pianist.
The Schumann piano quintet, opus 44, is even more famous than
the quartet. Here the problem is still simpler, for the piano quintet is
but a combination of two independent groups: the full string quartet
and the pianoforte. The piano must still be handled with care else it
will overpower its companions; but the complete resources of the
four strings make possible contrasts between them and the piano,
measures in which the piano may be quite silent, and others in which
it less fills up the harmony than adds its own color to the sonority.
The first broad section of the development in the first movement
becomes, therefore, almost a pianoforte concerto; whereas other
sections like the second trio in the scherzo are in the nature of a
concerto for string quartet and orchestra. In the beginning of the last
movement the strings are treated too much in an orchestral manner.
There is no trace of the fineness of the quartet which should never
quite disappear in this big combination. Later on the strings,
however, are handled with the greatest delicacy, as in the fugal parts
before the last fugue. Here, where the theme of the first movement
comes back into the music with splendor, there is perfection of style.
But whatever may be the technical merits or faults of this quintet as a
quintet, as music it is inspired from beginning to end.
From the time of Schumann, who may be said to have left the model
and set the standard for all subsequent pianoforte quartets and
quintets, our history will find not more than twenty such works upon
which to touch with enthusiasm. Among the quartets those of
Brahms and Dvořák, and that in C-minor, opus 15, by Gabriel Fauré
stand out conspicuously.
The third Brahms’ quartet is less pleasing. The first movement was
written as early as 1855. It is morbid and gloomy in character and
indeed Brahms is said to have suggested to Hermann Deiters that
he should imagine, while listening to it, a young man about to kill
himself for lack of occupation. Of the same movement Dr. Billroth,
one of Brahms’ most intimate friends, said that it was an illustration
in music of Goethe’s Werther on his death bed, in his now famous
buff and blue. The cello solo in the slow movement and the scherzo
in general are more loveable.
The two pianoforte quartets by Dvořák, opus 23, in D, and opus 87,
in E-flat, have the same perfection of style and animation of manner
that we have already noticed in the trios. The strings are handled
with discriminating touch. There is something clear and transparent
in the style, for all the impetuous, highly rhythmical, and impassioned
material. And the effectiveness of the pianoforte in the combination
is truly astonishing, considering how relatively simple it all is. In the
first movement of the quartet in D, for example, the duet that is half
canon between the cello and piano in the statement of the second
theme, and shortly after, following a two measure trill, the almost
Mozartian figuration given to the pianoforte while the strings develop
the possibilities within this second theme; the magical scoring at the
return of the first theme, which here, as at the beginning, is given in
the middle registers of the cello, being thus made both melody and
rich bass beneath the almost laughably simple figures for the
pianoforte; these alone in one movement are instances of a wholly
delightful style.
In the second quartet the style is more powerful but not the less
clear. There is a splendid incisiveness in the first complete statement
of the first theme, following the impetuous run of the pianoforte. Here
are violin and viola in unison, the cello spreading richness through
the bass with its wide swinging figures, and the piano adding a
brilliance by means of commonplaces which are here delightful.
Later on there is a long passage scored in a favorite way of
Dvořák’s. The cello is given the low foundation notes, which are
complemented by the viola, both instruments playing pizzicato. The
violin has a melody which follows the figuration of the pianoforte,
here of the simplest kind, but floating as it were in mid-air over the
foundation tones of the cello. There are many passages in the third
movement, similarly arranged, the pianoforte part being without a
bass of its own, the whole fabric supported by the low notes of the
cello.
The quintet, opus 84, in A major, is not less effectively scored. The
pianoforte part is perhaps a little more brilliant as a whole than in the
quartets, quite properly so because of the added force in the strings.
In the second movement we have another Dumka, with its wild,
passionate changes, and for a scherzo there is a Furiant, another
touch of Bohemia.
Indeed the use of unison and octave passages for the strings is
conspicuous in every movement, as if only by so combining the
quartet could maintain its own against the pianoforte. Notice this in
the great E minor passage of the development section in the first
movement.[82] Here is music of greatest and stormiest force. Franck
has scored the accompaniment in the heaviest registers of the
pianoforte, and is yet able to bring out his theme clearly above and
his desired thunder by joining all the instruments in the statement of
it. Notice the unisons, too, in the climax before the return of the chief
motive, how the strings make themselves heard, not only above a
brilliant accompaniment, but actually against another theme, given
with all the force of the piano. Only in the statement of the second
theme in the third section of the movement does the piano join with
the strings. Immediately after these follows another tremendous
passage in which only by joining together can the strings rise above
the thunderous accompaniment of the piano.