he collision or coincidence
of two judgments that contradict each other. Their definition, however,
is far from meeting every case, and even when it does, it defines--not
the principle of the ludicrous, but only one of its more or less
distant consequences. Indeed, it is easy to see that the stage-made
misunderstanding is nothing but a particular instance of a far more
general phenomenon,--the reciprocal interference of independent series,
and that, moreover, it is not laughable in itself, but only as a sign
of such an interference.

As a matter of fact, each of the characters in every stage-made
misunderstanding has his setting in an appropriate series of events
which he correctly interprets as far as he is concerned, and which give
the key-note to his words and actions. Each of the series peculiar to
the several characters develop independently, but at a certain moment
they meet under such conditions that the actions and words that belong
to one might just as well belong to another. Hence arise the
misunderstandings and the equivocal nature of the situation. But this
latter is not laughable in itself, it is so only because it reveals the
coincidence of the two independent series. The proof of this lies in
the fact that the author must be continually taxing his ingenuity to
recall our attention to the double fact of independence and
coincidence. This he generally succeeds in doing by constantly renewing
the vain threat of dissolving partnership between the two coinciding
series. Every moment the whole thing threatens to break down, but
manages to get patched up again; it is this diversion that excites
laughter, far more than the oscillation of the mind between two
contradictory ideas. It makes us laugh because it reveals to us the
reciprocal interference of two independent series, the real source of
the comic effect.

And so the stage-made misunderstanding is nothing more than one
particular instance, one means--perhaps the most artificial--of
illustrating the reciprocal interference of series, but it is not the
only one. Instead of two contemporary series, you might take one series
of events belonging to the past and another belonging to the present:
if the two series happen to coincide in our imagination, there will be
no resulting cross-purposes, and yet the same comic effect will
continue to take place. Think of Bonivard, captive in the Castle of
Chillon: one series of facts. Now picture to yourself Tartarin,
tr