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The Meaning Of Crocodiles

Yithian

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Through a serendipitous rediscovery of some writing on Thomas De Quincey that I had previously read, I was led back to his fevered obsession with crocodiles:

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Under the connecting feeling of tropical heat and vertical sunlights I brought together all creatures, birds, beasts, reptiles, all trees and plants, usages and appearances, that are found in all tropical regions, and assembled them together in China or Indostan. From kindred feelings, I soon brought Egypt and all her gods under the same law. I was stared at, hooted at, grinned at, chattered at, by monkeys, by parroquets, by cockatoos. I ran into pagodas, and was fixed for centuries at the summit or in secret rooms: I was the idol; I was the priest; I was worshipped; I was sacrificed. I fled from the wrath of Brama through all the forests of Asia: Vishnu hated me: Seeva laid wait for me. I came suddenly upon Isis and Osiris: I had done a deed, they said, which the ibis and the crocodile trembled at. I was buried for a thousand years in stone coffins, with mummies and sphynxes, in narrow chambers at the heart of eternal pyramids. I was kissed, with cancerous kisses, by crocodiles; and laid, confounded with all unutterable slimy things, amongst reeds and Nilotic mud.

I thus give the reader some slight abstraction of my Oriental dreams, which always filled me with such amazement at the monstrous scenery that horror seemed absorbed for a while in sheer astonishment. Sooner or later came a reflux of feeling that swallowed up the astonishment, and left me not so much in terror as in hatred and abomination of what I saw. Over every form, and threat, and punishment, and dim sightless incarceration, brooded a sense of eternity and infinity that drove me into an oppression as of madness. Into these dreams only it was, with one or two slight exceptions, that any circumstances of physical horror entered. All before had been moral and spiritual terrors. But here the main agents were ugly birds, or snakes, or crocodiles; especially the last. The cursed crocodile became to me the object of more horror than almost all the rest. I was compelled to live with him, and (as was always the case almost in my dreams) for centuries. I escaped sometimes, and found myself in Chinese houses, with cane tables, &c. All the feet of the tables, sofas, &c., soon became instinct with life: the abominable head of the crocodile, and his leering eyes, looked out at me, multiplied into a thousand repetitions; and I stood loathing and fascinated. And so often did this hideous reptile haunt my dreams that many times the very same dream was broken up in the very same way: I heard gentle voices speaking to me (I hear everything when I am sleeping), and instantly I awoke. It was broad noon, and my children were standing, hand in hand, at my bedside — come to show me their coloured shoes, or new frocks, or to let me see them dressed for going out. I protest that so awful was the transition from the damned crocodile, and the other unutterable monsters and abortions of my dreams, to the sight of innocent Human natures and of infancy, that in the mighty and sudden revulsion of mind I wept, and could not forbear it, as I kissed their faces.

June 1819

https://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/d/de_quincey/thomas/opium/chapter5.html

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By chance I am currently re-reading J. G. Ballard's masterpiece, The Drowned World, and it strikes me that his menacingly brooding iguanas, busily reasserting mastery over humanity's sunken cities, serve the same purpose as those crocodiles to De Quincey's fevered mind. So what, then, are the crocodile and the iguana? No doubt the orientalist would have something to squawk about the 'civilisation' of the west Vs the 'barbarity' of the east; no doubt he would invoke the 'fear of the other', but are both creatures perhaps infected with some kind of Jungian significance beyond the fears of the colonialist? I personally think so...

Little Miss Yith regularly refers to crocodiles as dinosaurs, and Peppa Pig and friends similarly classify the chameleon at their school, yet there's scarcely more of a distinction to be gleaned by the adult mind. Crocodiles, iguanas and the like are non-extinct dinosaurs (a troubling notion in itself), and they seem to me to signify a number of other troubling thoughts which modern life allows us to liminally submerge into the unconscious, namely:
  • That we are beasts with bestial urges. A crocodile appalls as it looks the part and does not disguise its nature as we do.
  • That emotion despite looming large in our lives is in no way required for survival and may, in fact, present an impediment to it.
  • That for all our cunning and refinement, we are physically fragile and ill-adapted to any but temperate and tamed habitats.
  • That time--deep geological time--is unfathomably long to a short-lived creature like a human, and human history is not even a fragment of the full story. Accordingly, we, as individuals, are rather irrelevant (though our genetic line, perhaps gives hope).
  • That as countless species preceded us temporally, so countless more may succeed us in the future.
  • That all these facts will be as true to our descendants as they are to us: they are inescapable.
Has anybody else ever thought about the meaning of crocodiles?

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Do crocodiles have a 'meaning'?
They just are.
Everything has a meaning, according to Forteans. I put meaning onto ships and the sea, although some Mods have limited imaginations and can't quite see it! :twisted:
 
Everything has a meaning, according to Forteans. I put meaning onto ships and the sea, although some Mods have limited imaginations and can't quite see it! :twisted:

I agree with you, Rynner--there are few things in our lives with more symbolic meaning than the sea, and ships are clearly a part of the picture.

If you should decide to write (not merely news dump) about the meaning of the sea, ships and sailing, I'd suggest doing so here:

http://forum.forteantimes.com/index.php?threads/the-sea-in-their-blood.51973/#post-1305316

I have found my old copy of Boats & Boatmen by T.C. Lethebridge, so I may turn up there myself.
 
Crocodilians, other sizable reptiles, and larger fish (including the few sharks I've personally observed) disquiet me at a very deep level. At one time I casually wrote it off as some residual primal instinct and left it at that. Over the years I've come to believe there's something more to it - something that affects how I view them based on how they present themselves and act.

My current thinking centers on the theme of automaticity - i.e., machine-like actions triggered by low level wiring / programming, with no room for selection among options, much less outright reflection, much less adaptability.

Think of all those SF stories in which machines destroy in strict accordance with their programming (e.g., Daleks; Berserkers). You can't argue with them or hope to persuade them to operate with more discretion or discrimination. They only do what they're geared to do.

Furthermore, they are impelled to do what they're geared to do. There's an inevitability to their responses; the only variability relates to whatever threshold must be exceeded or stimulus must be received to trigger action. There's an inevitability to the form of the response, and a mystery as to whether it's about to occur.

This cold, machine-like nature is evident in the eyes. We mammals express a lot with our eyes (and to some extent the surrounding 'face'), and we're accustomed to focusing on the eyes of another mammal (e.g., canine,feline) to gauge what they may do next. This doesn't work with crocodilians, etc. The eyes are as relatively static and expressionless as those of a statue, a doll, or a classic grey alien (all of which are figures commonly employed to instill horror).

Consider the contrast between (e.g.):

- a lion watching a herd of antelopes on the plains, versus ...
- a croc watching the same herd watering on a stream bank

The lion gives the impression of pondering, sometimes shifting position or re-directing its gaze. There's an insinuation of 'decision' occurring. The croc is a motionless object poised to 'explode' with fatal effect - somewhat akin to an unexploded bomb. There's no 'decision making' evident.

Consider the parable / folktale of the venomous creature (scorpion, snake, whatever ... ) that convinces a victimizable creature of a different species (turtle, human, whatever ... ) to carry it across a stream, protect it with its body heat against cold, etc. The venomous one always promises not to attack / sting / bite the other. The canonical result is that the venomous rider indeed strikes, sometimes (especially in the stream-crossing versions) at the expense of both their lives. The canonical ending is the victim asking the attacker 'Why?', and the attacker answering (e.g.) "It's my nature"; "you knew I was a snake from the beginning"; or something similar.

The point is the inevitability entailed in one's nature. The creature whose nature cannot be changed is invariably a non-mammal (most often a snake or scorpion).

Inevitability scares us. Whether it's the recognition of certain death as you go over a cliff, death in general, or the expected wrath of God in response to sin, that which cannot possibly be evaded or negotiated is terrifying.

You can no more negotiate with (e.g.) a croc than you can negotiate with gravity or the Reaper.

Unease arising from automaticity and inevitability ... That's what crocodiles mean to me ...
 
I think that chimes with my second point about their lack of emotion. It is no suprise to me that crocodile toys and automaton are fairly common: they have a single mechanical reponse: *SNAP*

The only question is when the reaction will occur. We project the trait of patience onto reptiles owing to their habitual basking and economy of movement—and this echoes my point about their symbolic representation of the depths of geologic time—but patience implies an eventual end to the suspensed tension.
 
Has anybody else ever thought about the meaning of crocodiles?
As a reptilian predator they're going poke our limbic brain somehow. We're (as a species) already strongly snake adverse, many of us are scared of snakes and those that are not can be conditioned to be, so quickly it's embarrassing. We have a hard wired reaction (we jerk backward without a micro-moments thought) to snake strikes, that simply can't be removed.Make sense, those of us proto-humans who didn't develop that reflex would evolve out of the gene pool pretty quickly.

Once the proto-humans came down from the trees and learnt to beat snakes with a stick, the next problem would be water, then water snakes and, assorted crocadilia.

Considering this and the whole Jungian view of the dragon/serpent/lizard as the representative of the world below, death and transformation literally and figuratively...it's be odd if we didn't have a fascination with them.

Plus, they're sneaky.
 
Excellent insights.

I've often thought that pre-medieval dragons (certainly European, if not Chinese) may have been displaced crocodilians, or at least komodo dragons.
 
Do crocodiles have a 'meaning'?
They just are.

I respectfully disagree.

No phenomenon or object of apprehension that enters the human consciousness just is. Given that consciousness is the only means through which we can access reality, everything that we process comes pre-laden with meaning: such an object is any number of things in any number of contexts, but those judgments (both pre- and post-reflexive) use categories on which the bulk of humanity concur and express through language and form the bundle of connotations that attach to an object and create its 'meaning' through denotation.

A crocodile, for instance, may be a symbol of exotic otherness, an object of scientific curiosity, a threat to escape from, or (at a stretch) a much-loved pet—it would not be considered a family member, a valuable source of medicine, a work of art or a means of transportation; these possible 'meanings' have been determined over millennia by broad consensus; any attempt to widen or narrow this bundle of possibilities will only be accepted following a process of mediation through language across a range of fields.

One may declare a crocodile to be an attractive article of furniture, but one will be judged a lunatic by the bulk of humanity.

Think Dasein meets Mill and Frege from 'On Sense and Reference'.
 
A crocodile, for instance, may be a symbol of exotic otherness, an object of scientific curiosity, a threat to escape from or (at a stretch) a much-loved pet
Or in the case of Peter Pan (come on, someone had to), the inevitable passage of time chasing the resentful responsible grown-up Captain hook to his doom. Peter of course never grows up, unlike Wendy. You think Peter was the hero...


...tick-tock...
 
Crocodiles are not dinosaurs though they are archosaurs. The animal in the picture is an American alligator rather than a crocodile.
Crocodiles do think and plan and even use tools. They have been observed balancing logs and branches on their jaws then catching the birds that perch on them. They will kil a fish then rather than eating it use it as bait for bigger prey. Crocs have been observed climbing onto of each other to for a living
wall to corral fish and they co-operate in ripping apart large prey, taking turns anchoring or spinning.
Personaly I love crocodiles. I think the dread most people feel is linked to our ancestory on the plains of East Africa. Crocodiles were and are the large predator that accounts for more human deaths than any other. As I've mentioned on another thread they are one of the few animals capable of killing big cats and sharks. Few humans escape the jaws of a crocodile.
 
Crocodiles are not dinosaurs though they are archosaurs. The animal in the picture is an American alligator rather than a crocodile.

Of course they are not dinosaurs in a zoological sense, but in the sense I outlined they are. A paperweight is not a weapon, but when presented with a burglar you may well consider it as such.

Quite right about the picture (teeth not protruding among other things)--I just Googled for an image to add flavour and the picture was mislabelled.

Will change it to something more appropriate.
 
What an interesting thread!

My, rather random, thoughts...

I think it might simply be down to how well we and other animals 'speak each other's languages'.

As someone who comes from a family of animal lovers, and being one myself, I've had multiple opportunities to observe inter-species reactions (I've kept or bred; horses, goats, pigs, dogs, cats, rabbits, chinchillas, guinea pigs, gerbils, rats, mice, budgies, cockatiels, fish (goldfish and tropicals, including Siamese fighters and cichlids who are very intelligent, for fish!), tarantulas and snakes. Never kept lizards, although I've had friends that have; my ex had an iguana for many years (it hated me :( ).

I don't think it would be in any way controversial to suggest that more closely related animals will communicate better than more distantly related ones.

It's certainly easier, IME, to integrate dog + cat, or rabbit + guinea pig than dog + rabbit, and that's discounting the prey/chase instinct, which is a separate issue.

Of course, dogs, cats and, to a slightly lesser extent, horses, have evolved along with us, so those species are much easier for us to 'understand'. I know experiments have been done that demonstrate that even people who don't know anything about dogs can tell different barks apart and, although I haven't heard of it being done, I suspect that the same would be true of cat miaows.

Other domesticated animals haven't achieved anything like the same level of communication. I've got a house rabbit and, even leaving aside the fact that, being a prey animal, he has no instinct playing with someone*, there isn't the level of interaction as there is a with a dog or cat. He's just not able to communicate with us, nor we with him, on the same level.

I think reptiles are just too 'other'. We have no shared points of communication to latch onto; no sense that we can read their intentions in any way, but they're also quite clearly alive and have intentions, so that makes them very unpredictable, which is going to be frightening on quite a deep level. I think something akin to the 'uncanny valley' effect might be what's at the root of it.

I'm also quite certain we have an inbuilt bias towards being scared of certain animals. I remember a friend of mine throwing a piece of rope towards his 2 year old daughter while they were playing in the garden one day, and the poor child had total hysterics over it. As a lot of lizards carry huge bacterial loads, it makes sense to me that they'd be something we'd evolve to be wary of.

* I believe most 'play' in animals is practising life skills. In prey animals, that really just involves running, so my rabbit will exhibit playful behaviour, by running up and down, jumping and leaping, but you can't play games; he has no chase instinct, obviously, so you can't throw things for him, just as one example.
 
Or in the case of Peter Pan (come on, someone had to), the inevitable passage of time chasing the resentful responsible grown-up Captain hook to his doom. Peter of course never grows up, unlike Wendy. You think Peter was the hero...


...tick-tock...

You know, I think I'm one of the few people with next to no familiarity with Peter Pan. I've never once read the book or seen any of the adaptations, though obviously the jist has seeped in through popular culture.

Again, interesting that you have discerned both the connotations of time and inevitability.
 
Again, interesting that you have discerned both the connotations of time and inevitability.
No I didn't...I wish I had thought of it, but it's from something I read or heard.
 
You know, I think I'm one of the few people with next to no familiarity with Peter Pan
This, in of itself, is a Fortean mystery. That particular crocodile, with it's internal ticking clock both warning of, and demarking the automaton-like movements of the beast, have underpinned the archetypal fear in many a baby-boomer.

Never smile at a crocodile
No, you can't get friendly with a crocodile
Don't be taken in by his welcome grin
He's imagining how well you'd fit within his skin
Never smile at a crocodile
Never tip your hat and stop to talk awhile
Never run, walk away, say good-night, not good-day
Clear the aisle but never smile at Mister Crocodile
You may very well be well bred
Lots ot etiquette in your head
But there's always some special case, time or place
To forget etiquette
For instance:
Never smile at a crocodile
No, you can't get friendly with a crocodile
Don't be taken in by his welcome grin
He's imagining how well you'd fit within his skin
Never smile at a crocodile
Never dip your hat and stop to talk awhile
Never run, walk away, say good-night, not good-day
Clear the aisle but never smile at Mister Crocodile
 
This, in of itself, is a Fortean mystery. That particular crocodile, with it's internal ticking clock both warning of, and demarking the automaton-like movements of the beast, have underpinned the archetypal fear in many a baby-boomer.
Just another Jungian meta-narrative innit?
 
What an interesting thread!

My, rather random, thoughts...

I think it might simply be down to how well we and other animals 'speak each other's languages'.

As someone who comes from a family of animal lovers, and being one myself, I've had multiple opportunities to observe inter-species reactions (I've kept or bred; horses, goats, pigs, dogs, cats, rabbits, chinchillas, guinea pigs, gerbils, rats, mice, budgies, cockatiels, fish (goldfish and tropicals, including Siamese fighters and cichlids who are very intelligent, for fish!), tarantulas and snakes. Never kept lizards, although I've had friends that have; my ex had an iguana for many years (it hated me :( ).

I don't think it would be in any way controversial to suggest that more closely related animals will communicate better than more distantly related ones.

It's certainly easier, IME, to integrate dog + cat, or rabbit + guinea pig than dog + rabbit, and that's discounting the prey/chase instinct, which is a separate issue.

Of course, dogs, cats and, to a slightly lesser extent, horses, have evolved along with us, so those species are much easier for us to 'understand'. I know experiments have been done that demonstrate that even people who don't know anything about dogs can tell different barks apart and, although I haven't heard of it being done, I suspect that the same would be true of cat miaows.

Other domesticated animals haven't achieved anything like the same level of communication. I've got a house rabbit and, even leaving aside the fact that, being a prey animal, he has no instinct playing with someone*, there isn't the level of interaction as there is a with a dog or cat. He's just not able to communicate with us, nor we with him, on the same level.

I think reptiles are just too 'other'. We have no shared points of communication to latch onto; no sense that we can read their intentions in any way, but they're also quite clearly alive and have intentions, so that makes them very unpredictable, which is going to be frightening on quite a deep level. I think something akin to the 'uncanny valley' effect might be what's at the root of it.

I'm also quite certain we have an inbuilt bias towards being scared of certain animals. I remember a friend of mine throwing a piece of rope towards his 2 year old daughter while they were playing in the garden one day, and the poor child had total hysterics over it. As a lot of lizards carry huge bacterial loads, it makes sense to me that they'd be something we'd evolve to be wary of.

* I believe most 'play' in animals is practising life skills. In prey animals, that really just involves running, so my rabbit will exhibit playful behaviour, by running up and down, jumping and leaping, but you can't play games; he has no chase instinct, obviously, so you can't throw things for him, just as one example.

Having been a zookeeper specializing in reptiles I can say that certain ones do get tame and enjoy human contact. I knew an Aldaberan giant tortoise called Esmeralda who was dog tame and love to be stroked and have her neck and chin tickled. A big male green iguana loved to be petted like a dog.

I wonder why most people fear reptiles but not birds who are, literaly dinosaurs.
 
... I wonder why most people fear reptiles but not birds who are, literaly dinosaurs.

That same thought crossed my mind when replying to Yith's original post, but I elected not to go into it.

I think a lot of it has to do with modern birds' ubiquity and hence their familiarity to us.

Perhaps the biggest factor (for most people in most places) is that birds are relatively non-threatening. Most familiar modern birds are generally small, structurally fragile, and seemingly non-life-threatening. It occurred to me the ostrich comes closest (in terms of appearance and potential risk) to being a fearsome animal analogous to crocodilians.

Owing to their ubiquity, familiarity, and relatively action-packed lives openly available to observation, it occurred to me we 'get' birds in a way we don't 'get' those animals who seem more alien.

I wouldn't go so far as to say we feel 'kinship' with birds so much as an arm's-length 'akin-ship'.

One factor supporting such 'akin-ship' is that we mammals and the birds are the most 'clothed' sizable animals (via fur / feathers). If our external accoutrements are removed we can remain alive, albeit 'naked'. Doing the same with fish or reptiles leaves them 'skinned', and hence dead or dying. Our external 'clothing' can vary far more wildly than bare skin, and some species literally flaunt it (e.g., during mating rituals). Humans 'get' that ...

Birds obviously communicate quite a bit via sound, and they make sounds richer than simple grunts, hisses, or roars. Humans 'get' that ...

On the other hand ... I sense the same creepy unreflective automaticity in birds that I noted above for reptiles, and I tend to consider them as different from us as crocs. Yes, I've watched some birds (especially crows) act with seeming 'intelligence', but they are the exception rather than the rule.
 
My favourite crocodile is one of the stars of Punch and Judy. His role is to engage in a battle with Punch for a string of sausages. Why a Crocodile should become a figure in a european street act seems odd but there are a few articles on the symbolism of the show suggesting this act goes all the way back to ancient Egypt where a crocodile would be more relevant.

The Crocodile and The string of sausages - One scene is centred around the concept of "It's dinner time." This may refer to the symbolism of the Four seasons and the hours– dinner being the evening meal. This will lead to the production of a string of sausages, which Mr. Punch must look after. This signals the arrival of a crocodile whom Mr. Punch might not see until the audience shouts out and lets him know. Punch's subsequently has a comic struggle with the crocodile.
The crocodile is a symbol of the ‘reptilean brain’ – the deep subconscious. At this level of our subconscious, the instincts are paramount and all the mammalian emotions absent. Only the basic functions are present – procreation, food and survival. To a large extent one has sunk to the level of the Will and autonomic systems. Thus Punch is symbolically trying to grapple with his basic instincts here and control them – a key part of the early spiritual path

http://www.allaboutheaven.org/symbols/1132/123/punch-and-judy


Some suggest the crocodile is another depiction of The Devil, who appears at the end.


Another famous character is the Crocodile. The Crocodile appears, and he’s green and has a very long snout with teeth. The Crocodile is a relative of the Dragon which existed in the mystery plays of the Middle Ages. The mystery plays typically involve a Christian icon, such as Saint George, beating the Dragon to death. The medieval idea being that the evil in the puppet is beaten out of the character. Now, often the Crocodile can morph into a Dragon, an older variant from the Middle Ages which has largely been discarded from the contemporary troupe, or he can become the Devil.

It's also been argued that Joey the Clown is a more basic aspect of Punch's schizoid personality, moving Punch's victims around causing him confusion and torment. There's certainly some strange stuff in Mr. Punch's little seaside world. I reckon there's more to that Crocodile than meets the eye.
 
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I wrote a book (unpublished as yet) yeas ago. It looked not only at the natural history of crocodiles but their cultural impact. During the research I talked to a Punch & Judy buff who told me that the crocodile was a fairly recent addition to the show. It was added due to the popularity of the crocodile in Peter Pan in the early part of the last century.
 
Discriptions by the German explorer Englebert Kaemfer in 1690 of sacred dragons kept in a temple in southern Japan sound like saltwater crocodiles. In China the saltwater crocodile was thought of as a dragon and known as the flood dragon (possibly because floods brought them closer to human habitation)
This is interesting...
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jiaolong
 
Distorted retellings of the sacred crocodiles kept in Egypt may have influenced the idea of dragons hording gold.
 
I think a lot of it has to do with modern birds' ubiquity and hence their familiarity to us.

Perhaps the biggest factor (for most people in most places) is that birds are relatively non-threatening. Most familiar modern birds are generally small, structurally fragile, and seemingly non-life-threatening. It occurred to me the ostrich comes closest (in terms of appearance and potential risk) to being a fearsome animal analogous to crocodilians.

The most dinosaur-like bird that comes to my mind is the cassowary. It looks like a dinosaur with feathers and can rip a murderous hole in you with its feet. Supposedly, they are 'shy'. I don't think I would be as afraid of a cassowary as I would be of a croc, but the former seems like a formidable fighter when it puts its mind to it.
 
Yep - the cassowary is another candidate for 'modern fearsome bird'.
 
I wrote a book (unpublished as yet) yeas ago. It looked not only at the natural history of crocodiles but their cultural impact. During the research I talked to a Punch & Judy buff who told me that the crocodile was a fairly recent addition to the show. It was added due to the popularity of the crocodile in Peter Pan in the early part of the last century.

I've only read snippets of your writing, but I'd read this.
 
I would guess that the crocodile in Punch & Judy corresponds to those fearsome animal-skull creatures in the mummers' plays.

As this page about the Mari Lwyd says, Punch & Judy themselves were 18th Century imports from Italy.

The snapping jaws of the crocodile, even confined to the booth, produce screams of delight and fear in young children. The show also makes a point of breaking-the-wall when the baby is flung into the audience. Do they still include that? :eek:
 
I wrote a book (unpublished as yet) yeas ago. It looked not only at the natural history of crocodiles but their cultural impact. During the research I talked to a Punch & Judy buff who told me that the crocodile was a fairly recent addition to the show. It was added due to the popularity of the crocodile in Peter Pan in the early part of the last century.

This would suggest Punch's crocodile appeared before Barrie wrote Peter Pan.

Punch and Judy even crossed the Atlantic in the late 19th century. A 'merry dialogue between Joan and his wife' featured in what was probably a marionette show in Philadelphia in 1742, and in 1850 a Punch and Judy show was performing at Sandy Bar in San Francisco. When William Judd (b.1841) emigrated to the States in 1867 he developed a business selling ‘everything needed for a travelling Punch and Judy show including a: ‘Superior Punch and Judy Theatres’ and carved wooden figures, most costing $1.75, but the crocodile $2, Hector the Horse $1.50, a baby 50 cents and a cudgel 10 cents.

http://www.vam.ac.uk/content/articles/t/thats-the-way-to-do-it!-a-history-of-punch-and-judy/
 
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