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It was after the Second World War, he said. The India of my boyhood was gone, simply gone. And besides, I was hungry for new places. I got up a hunting expedition with my friends for the Amazon jungles. I was obsessed with the prospect of the Amazon jungles. We were after the great South American jaguar- He gestured to the spotted skin of a cat I had not noticed before, mounted upon a stand in a corner of the room. How I wanted to track that cat.
Seems that you did.
Not immediately, he said with a short ironic laugh. We decided to preface our expedition with a nice luxurious holiday in Rio, a couple of weeks to roam Copacabana Beach, and all the old colonial sites-the monasteries, churches, and so forth. And understand, the center of the city was different in that time, a warren of little narrow streets, and wonderful old architecture! I was so eager for it, for the sheer alien quality of it! That's what sends us Englishmen into the tropics. We have to get away from all this propriety, this tradition-and immerse ourselves in some seemingly savage culture which we can never tame or really understand.
His whole manner was changing as he spoke; he was becoming even more vigorous and energetic, eyes brightening and words flowing more quickly in that crisp British accent, which I so loved.
Well, the city itself surpassed all expectations, of course. Yet it was nothing as entrancing as the people. The people in Brazil are like no people I've ever seen. For one thing, they're exceptionally beautiful, and though everyone agrees on this point, no one knows why. No, I'm quite serious, he said, when he saw me smile, Perhaps it's the blending of Portuguese and African, and then toss in the Indian blood. I honestly can't say. The fact is, they are extraordinarily attractive and they have extremely sensuous voices. Why, you could fall in love with their voices, you could end up kissing their voices; and the music, the bossa nova, that's their language all right.
You should have stayed there.
Oh, no! he said, taking another quick sip of the Scotch. Well, to continue. I developed a passion, shall we say, for this boy, Carlos, the very first week. I was absolutely swept away; all we did was drink and make love for days and nights on end in my suite in the Palace Hotel. Quite truly obscene.
Your friends waited?
No, laid down the law. Come with us now, or we leave you. But it was perfectly fine with them if Carlos came along. He
made a little gesture with his right hand. Ah, these were all sophisticated gentlemen, of course.
Of course.
But the decision to take Carlos proved to be a dreadful mistake. His mother was a Candomble priestess, though I hadn't the slightest idea of it, She didn't want her boy going off into the Amazon jungles. She wanted him going to school. She sent the spirits after me.
He paused, looking at me, perhaps trying to gauge my reaction.
That must have been wonderful fun, I said.
They pummeled me in the darkness. They picked up the bed off the floor and dumped me out! They turned the taps in the shower so that I was nearly scalded. They filled my teacups with urine. After a full seven days, I thought I was going out of my mind. I'd gone from annoyance and incredulity to sheer terror. Dishes flew off the table in front of me. Bells rang in my ears. Bottles went crashing from the shelves. Wherever I went, I saw dark-faced individuals watching roe.
You knew it was this woman?
Not at first. But Carlos finally broke down and confessed everything. His mother didn't intend to remove the curse until I left. Well, I left that very night.
I came back to London, exhausted and half mad. But it didn't do any good. They came with me. Same things started to happen right here in Taibot Manor. Doors slamming, furniture moving, the bells ringing all the time in the servants' pantry belowstairs. Everyone was going mad. And my mother-my mother had been more or less of a spiritualist, always running . to various mediums all over London. She brought in the Talamasca. I told them the whole story, and they started explaining Candomble and spiritism to me.
They exorcised the demons?
No. But after a
bout a week's intense study in the library of the Motherhouse and extensive interviews with the few members who had been to Rio, I was able to get the demons under control myself. Everyone was quite surprised. Then when I decided to go back to Brazil, I astonished them. They warned me this priestess was plenty powerful enough to kill me.
That's exactly it I said to them. 'I want that sort of power myself. I'm going to become her pupil. She's going to teach me. ' They begged me not to go. I told them I'd give them a written report on my return. You can understand how I felt. I'd seen the work of these invisible entities. I'd felt them touch me. I'd seen objects hurtling through the air. I thought the great world of the invisible was opening up to me. I had to go there. Why, nothing could have discouraged me from it. Nothing at all.
Yes, I see, I said. It was as exciting as hunting big game.
Precisely. He shook his head. Those were the days. I suppose I thought if the war hadn't killed me, nothing could kill me. He drifted off suddenly, into his memories, locking me out.
You confronted the woman?
He nodded.
Confronted her and impressed her, and then bribed her beyond her wildest dreams. I told her I wanted to become her apprentice. I swore on my knees to her that I wanted to learn, that I wouldn't leave until I'd penetrated the mystery, and learned all that I could. He gave a little laugh. I'm not sure this woman had ever encountered an anthropologist, even an amateur, and I suppose that is what I might have been called. Whatever, I stayed a year in Rio. And believe you me, that was the most remarkable year of my life. I only left Rio finally, because I knew if I didn't, I never would. David Talbot the Englishman would have been no more.
You learned how to summon the spirits?
He nodded. Again, he was remembering, seeing images I couldn't see. He was troubled, faintly sad. I wrote it all down, he said finally. It's in the files at the Motherhouse. Many, many have read the story over the years.
Never tempted to publish it?
