interviewed victims by the dozens, taking voluminous notes.
He came to the conclusion long held by the Talamasca that there are a great variety of entities who engage in possession. Some may be ghosts; some may be entities who were never human; some may be “other personalities” within the host. But he remained convinced that Antoinette Fielding had been a real human being, and that like many such ghosts, she had not known or understood that she was dead.
In 1920 he went to Paris to find evidence of Antoinette Fielding. He was unable to discover anything at all. But the few bits of information about the dead Louisa Fielding did fit with what Antoinette had written about her mother. Time, however, had long ago erased any real trace of these persons. And Stuart remained forever dissatisfied on this account.
In late 1920 he resigned himself to the fact that he might never know who Antoinette was, and then he turned to active fieldwork on behalf of the Talamasca. He went out with Louis Daly to intervene in cases of possession, carrying out with Daly a form of exorcism which Daly used very effectively to drive such alien presences out of the victim-host.
Daly was very impressed with Stuart Townsend. He became Stuart’s mentor, and Stuart was throughout these years noted for his compassion, patience, and effectiveness in this field. Not even Daly could comfort the victims afterwards the way Stuart could do it. After all, Stuart had been there. Stuart knew.
Stuart worked in this field tirelessly until 1929, reading the File on the Mayfair Witches only when a busy schedule allowed. Then he made his plea to the council and won.
At that point in time, Stuart was thirty-five. He stood six feet tall, had ash-blond hair and dark gray eyes. He was lean of build and had a light complexion. He tended to dress elegantly, and was one of those Americans who deeply admires English manners and ways of doing things, and aspires to imitate them. He was an attractive young man. But his greatest appeal to friends and acquaintances was a sort of boyish spontaneity and innocence. Stuart was really missing ten years of his life, and he never got them back.
He was capable at times of impetuousness, and of flying off the handle, of getting furious when he encountered even small obstacles to his plans. But he controlled this very well when he was in the field; and when he threw a tantrum in the Motherhouse he could always be brought round.
He was also capable of falling deeply and passionately in love, which he did with Helen Kreis, a member of the Talamasca who died in an auto accident in 1924. He grieved excessively and even dangerously for Helen for two years after her death.
What happened between him and Stella Mayfair we may never know. But it is possible to conjecture that she was the only other love of his life.
I should like to add my personal opinion here that Stuart Townsend never should have been sent to New Orleans. It was not only that he was too emotionally involved with Stella; it was that he lacked experience in this particular field.
In his novitiate, he had dealt with various kinds of psychic phenomena; and undoubtedly he read widely in the occult all his life. He discussed a great variety of cases with other members of the order. And he did spend some time with Arthur Langtry.
But he did not really know anything about witches, per se. And like so many of our members who have dealt only with hauntings, possessions, or reincarnation, he simply did not know what witches can do.
He did not understand that the strongest manifestations of discarnate entities come through mortal witches. There are even some suggestions that he thought the Talamasca was being archaic and silly in calling these women witches. And it is very likely that though he accepted the seventeenth-century descriptions of Deborah Mayfair and her daughter Charlotte, he could not “relate” this material to a clever, fashionable twentieth-century “jazz baby” like Stella, who seemed to be beckoning to him across the Atlantic with a smile and a wink.
Of course the Talamasca encounters a certain amount of incredulity in all new workers in the witchcraft field. The same holds true for the investigation of vampires. More than one member of the order has had to see these creatures in action before he or she could believe in them. But the solution to that problem is to introduce our members to fieldwork under the guidance of experienced persons, and in cases which do not involve direct contact.
To send an inexperienced man like Townsend to make contact with the Mayfair Witches is like sending a little child directly to hell to interview the devil.
In sum Stuart Townsend went off to New Orleans unprepared and unwarned. And with all due respect to those who governed the order in 1929, I do not believe that such a thing would happen today.
Lastly, let me add that Stuart Townsend, to the best of our knowledge, possessed no extraordinary powers. He wasn’t “psychic,” as they say. So he had no extrasensory weapons at his command when he confronted the foe, whom he did not even perceive to be a foe.
Stuart’s disappearance was reported to the New Orleans police on July 25, 1929. This was a full month after his arrival in New Orleans. The Talamasca had tried to reach him by telegram and by phone. Irwin Dandrich had tried to find him but in vain. The St. Charles Hotel, from which Stuart claimed to have written his only letter from New Orleans, denied ever having such a person registered. No one remembered such a person ever having been there.
Our private investigators could discover nothing to prove Townsend had ever reached New Orleans. And the police soon came to doubt that he had.
On July 28, the authorities told our local investigators that there was nothing further that they could do. But under severe pressure both from Dandrich and from the Talamasca the police finally agreed to go to the Mayfair house and ask Stella if she had ever seen or spoken to the young man. The Talamasca held out no hope at this point, but Stella surprised everyone by recalling Stuart at once.
Yes indeed, she had met Stuart, she said, the tall Texan from England, how could she ever forget such an interesting person? They had had lunch together and later dinner, and spent an entire night in talk.
No, she couldn’t imagine what had happened to him. In fact, she became quite instantly and visibly distressed at the possibility that he had met with foul play.
Yes, he was staying at the St. Charles Hotel, he mentioned that to her, and why on earth would he lie about such a thing? She began to cry. Oh, she hoped nothing had happened to him. In fact, she became so upset that the police almost terminated the interview. But she held them there asking questions. Had they talked to the people at the Court of Two Sisters? She’d taken Stuart there, and he’d liked it. Maybe he had been back. And there was a speakeasy on Bourbon Street where they had talked early the following morning, after some more respectable place-dreadful hole! – had kicked them out.
The police covered these establishments. Everyone knew Stella. Yes, Stella could have been there with a man. Stella was always there with a man. But nobody had any particular recollection of Stuart Townsend.
Other hotels in town were canvassed. No belongings of Stuart Townsend were found. Cabbies were questioned but with the same dismal lack of result.
At last the Talamasca decided to take the investigation into its own hands. Arthur Langtry sailed from London to discover what had happened to Stuart. He was conscience-stricken that he had ever agreed to let Stuart undertake this assignment alone.
Arthur Langtry’s Report
Arthur Langtry was certainly one of the most able investigators whom the Talamasca ever produced. The study of several great “witch families” was his lifelong work. The story of his fifty-year career with the Talamasca is one of the most interesting and amazing histories contained in our archives, and his detailed studies of the witch families with whom he became involved are some of the most valuable documents we possess.
It is a great sadness to those of us who have been obsessed all our lives with the Mayfair Witches that Langtry was never able to devote his time to their history. And in the years before Stuart Townsend became involved, Langtry expressed his own regrets regarding the whole affair.
But Langtry owed no one an apology for not having time or life enough for every witch family in our files.
Nevertheless, when Stuart Townsend disappeared, Langtry felt responsible, and nothing could have kept him from sailing to Louisiana in August Of 1929. As already mentioned, he blamed himself for Stuart’s disappearance, because he had not opposed Stuart’s assignment; and he had known in his heart that Stuart should not go.
