GIBB, FRANCIS (1860 - ?) Satanist, Poet, Libertine. In recent years, the image of the magician has been sanitised by the sort of sentimental individuals who enjoy the company of dogs. As I write this, computer screens flicker across the country as a thousand would-be alchemists steel themselves against the dictates of nature. Liars and fantasists have always constructed alternative worlds in which their yearnings are satisfied and pasts undone. Access to previously secret rituals, however garbled or mistranslated, has now ensured that misguided individuals can summon entities to do their bidding over the internet, invariably with terrible consequences. The problem has become so sufficiently pronounced for a secret government department to monitor the activities of occultists. This concern is not as ridiculous as it sounds.

The last period of occultism created a universal psychic imbalance that contributed toward World War One and the subsequent depredations of the 20th century. The most talented, and nefarious, practitioner of the age was Francis Gibb, who resurrected the long dormant Sons of the Morning, a society dedicated to offences against reason and propriety. A glimpse at the Sons of the Morning manifesto, written by Gibb in 1884, reveals an adolescent preoccupation with self-abuse and human waste, albeit one couched in the sort of pompous prose style familiar to anyone with a passing acquaintance of the black arts. To the sensible reader, the author comes across as a dirty minded fat-head. Colossal self confidence, however, combined with an undeniable charisma ensured the sort of attention currently enjoyed by contemporary attention seekers such as Marilyn Manson.

 

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