Wanna see a cock?

[dem bones]

"There existed a more humorous type of broadsheet known as a 'cock'. Cocks usually recounted some astonishingly unlikely occurrence purported to have happened to a local person and invariably they climaxed with a pathetic twist. A popular cock entitled An Account of the dreadful apparition that appeared last night to Henry — in this street, of Mary — the shopkeeper's daughter round the corner, in a shroud all covered in white shows how much a part of popular culture the Supernatural had become in the early years of Victoria's reign."
Michel Parry, Introduction: An Age Of Horror, Reign Of Terror, Corgi, 1976.

Ever since I first read that line in Michel's intro, have been longing to encounter this 'Account of the dreadful apparition ... & Co.', so, not for the first time, bless you, the Proofreading Team at Project Gutenberg!

Account of dreadful apparition.pdf (83.84 KB)

You'll find a plethora of cocks - various shapes and sizes - in Curiosities Of Literature, Reeves & Turner, 1871.

[helrunar]

Fabulous.  I love cocks.  A fan of all shapes & sizes.

The payoff in the "Dreadful Apparition," while highly predictable and even perhaps trite to moderns, shows the kind of thing that gave our ancestors such ribald entertainment back 200 years ago.  And dammit, I still think it's a lot of fun to read.

H.

[dem bones]

Dec 15, 2016 15:04:42 GMT helrunar said:

Fabulous.  I love cocks.  A fan of all shapes & sizes.

The payoff in the "Dreadful Apparition," while highly predictable and even perhaps trite to moderns, shows the kind of thing that gave our ancestors such ribald entertainment back 200 years ago.  And dammit, I still think it's a lot of fun to read.

H.

Having sampled around ten of these, I'm guessing Michel already identified the most macabre - and funniest - example of the form, which is not to say the rest are unworthy of attention. While the Dreadful Catastrophe in this Neighbourhood is disappointingly light on dreadful catastrophe, Strange Warning to a Publican is worth sticking with, and Shocking Rape and Murder of two Lovers does not lack incident. For those who like their melodrama bloody The Liverpool Tragedy, "Showing how a Father and Mother barbarously Murdered their own Son," will see you all right.

[dem bones]

Chanced upon this by happy accident while browsing the British Newspaper Archive.

THE DREADFUL GHOST.

The neighbourhood of Harcourt-Street, was on Sunday night last thrown into serious alarm, by the deadly appearance of the ghost of NED EVANS — formerly marker to a billiard table in Essex-Street — and killed there by the blow of a billiard ball on his temple, given by a hopeful dashing youth, who has since arrived at some celebrity in the city.
A convivial party were assembled at a gentleman's house in Harcourt-Street, over a game at hazard, and a bottle of Burgundy — when behold — the spectre entered the room — with a broken billiard cue in one hand, and with the other it plucked a billiard ball from a wound in its temple, from which issued a stream of blood and brains ; and approaching one of the gentlemen, on whom it fixed a deadly glance — it exclaimed in a hollow voice — Oh — DASHER! — DASHER ! — DASHER!

The astonished player — in his consternation — threw the contents of his glass on the table, swallowed the dice instead of his bumper, and immediately fell into convulsions.

The candles burnt blue — and the company fell into an ague-fit of horror.

The Browne Counsellor, George Joseph, addressed the ghost in a short speech from Hamlet — and it frowned contempt.

Squire Brennan struck at it with a bludgeon, and attempted to stab it — but his efforts fell on vacuity.

The Rev. Father Skeffington, chaplain to the Hell Flame Club, uttered a few ejaculations, half pious and half profane — with a view to exorcise the spirit — but it denied his power, and laughed him to scorn.

Mr. Fearns attempted to jest it out of its gloomy aspect — and sung several Flash Songs, by way of incantation, but in vain.
Gilly Mahon cut several wry faces, and distorted his head and neck into a thousand forms — accompanied by several cracked airs, to fright it— but the Ghost was immovable.

Squire Higgins recommended a FIAT;— but suddenly recollecting that the noble Fiat-maker, his patron, was out of town — he immediately dispatched a courier to his Friends in Rosemary-lane Chapel, for a writ of Exorcism, which being brought, and held out by his Worship in terrorem, the perturbed Ghost vanished in a flash of lightning — repeating as it went off — Oh, DASHER! DASHER! DASHER!


Dublin Evening Post , 25 August 1789

[Swampirella]

Thanks for that, Dem! If Richard Felix had been around, the story might have appeared in one of his books…