The observations above make it possible to solve the dilemma that Pascal raised in his Pensées (Thoughts): ‘Two faces which resemble each other make us laugh by their resemblance, when they are seen together’ (1994, 196). When answering this, as in similar cases of theoretical difficulties, the following question must be raised: Is this always so or not? Under what conditions is similarity comical or not?
Similarity is hardly ever comical, and parents of twins will never find it funny. In the same way, similar twins will not seem funny to those who see them daily and who have gotten used to them. Therefore the comic of similarity is determined by special reasons that are not always evident. On closer examination, similarity can prove to be funny or not for the same reasons we laugh. I already stated on several occasions that laughter is caused by the sudden revelation of some hidden flaw. When there is no flaw or when we fail to see it, we will not laugh. What is the flaw in this case? The unconscious presupposition of our assessment of a person and our recognition or respect for him or her is that every human being is a unique individual and has a distinct personality. An individual’s character can be seen in his or her face, mannerisms, and habits. If we happen to notice that two persons appear absolutely alike, we subconsciously conclude that they are alike in their inner being and that there are no inner individual differences. It is the revelation of this flaw that results in laughter. Parents of twins do not laugh at this since they distinguish perfectly well each of their children, as for them each child is a unique individual. Others who see them daily do not laugh because laughter is caused not only by the presence of flaws, but by their sudden and unexpected revelation. They may have laughed when they saw them the first time, but when they get used to it they no longer do. Nevertheless, the similarity of twins is only a particular and rather rare instance of how the comic of similarity can cause laughter in a variety of cases. Excellent examples of the comic of twin characters can be found in Gogol’s works and also in Bergson, who writes: ‘One of the usual processes of classic comedy is repetition’ (2005, 35).
It would be more precise to speak about duplication rather than repetition, and the classic example of this is Bobchinsky and Dobchinsky. The actors who performed The Government Inspector for the first time failed to understand Gogol’s intentions and tried to make them comical in them-selves, depicting them as ugly men in dirty and tattered clothes. This exasperated Gogol, for the author had conceived them as ‘rather tidy, stoutish, with decently smoothed hair’ (1984, IV:353). The comic lies in similarity rather than anything else, and minor differences only emphasize it. Bobchinsky and Dobchinsky are hardly the only example of paired characters in Gogol. There are also Uncle Mitai and Uncle Minai, Kifa Mokiyevich and Moky Kifovich, Themistoclus and Alcid, Manilov’s children, the simply pleasant lady and the lady pleasant in every respect. Another example is Father Karp and Father Polikarp whose heirs hope he will bury Plyushkin.
Other writers use this device less often. Ostrovsky1 in his comedy A Handsome Man, portrays two idlers, Pierre and George: ‘They are loafers who haven’t completed their studies, as alike as two peas in a pod’ (1973–80, V:282). Nedonoskov [from the Russian prematurely born] and Nedorostkov [from the Russian not fully grown] in the comedy Jokers are the same: ‘young people dressed in the latest fashion’ (II:490). Schastlivt-sev [from the Russian happy] and Neschastlivtsev [from the Russian unhappy] in Ostrovsky’s comedy Wood can only partially be subsumed under this category. Their comic is based not only on similarity but on contrast as well. The comic becomes stronger if identical figures start to quarrel and abuse each other, which Bobchinsky and Dobchinsky constantly do. They even collide with each other; when congratulating Anna Andreyev-na they ‘bend over [her] hand at the same time and bump their foreheads’ (The Government Inspector, in Gogol 1998, 326). The two ladies in Dead Souls argue endlessly with each other. The most striking examples of these identical antagonists are Ivan Ivanovich and Ivan Nikiforovich, who, in spite of all their differences, are quite alike. Ivan Ivanovich’s head is like a radish with its tail down, while Ivan Nikiforovich’s is like a radish with its tail up; Ivan Ivanovich shaves his beard twice a week, while Ivan Nikiforovich does so once; Ivan Ivanovich has expressive tobacco-coloured eyes, while Ivan Nikiforovich’s eyes are yellow, etc. But these distinctive traits only emphasize the similarity of their nature. Sometimes duplication is hidden rather than lying on the surface. Anna Andreyev-na and Marya Antonovna are examples of hidden ‘paired’ characters who, though they differ in age and one is the mother and the other the daughter, are absolutely alike in nature. When, after Khlestakov’s departure, the mother exclaims: ‘What a charming man!’ and the daughter: ‘What a darling!’ (290), the difference in words is not significant at all. ‘Heavens! Quel spectacle!’ exclaims first the mother and then (with a slightly different intonation), the daughter (315–16). At any rate, like other similar characters they constantly argue with each other. Talented clowns are quite familiar with this device: they often act in pairs, they are similar enough and different enough, but they argue endlessly with each other, wrangling and even fighting over trifles. Brothers Foma and Yeryoma are a classic example of paired characters in Russian folklore: both are clumsy, awkward, and lazy. A number of satirical folktales and songs have been composed about them, and their adventures end with both drowning.
Hidden or evident similarity can apply to several characters rather than pairs. The range of suitors in Gogol’s ‘Marriage’ is an example. They all seem to be different, yet they are united in their identical aspirations. Since quadruple repetition or similarity would seem rather mechanistic and thus destroy the comic effect, this type of character appears comical through simultaneous actions. The six daughters of Prince Tugoukhovsky in Griboyedov’s comedy Wit Works Woe, who all together go after Repetilov when he does not believe that Chatsky has gone mad, come to mind. They shout all together: ‘M’sieu Repetilov, you? M’sieur Repetilov, oh! How can you?’ (1992, Act IV, scene 7, 147). He then covers his ears and believes everything.
Similarity between two generations, fathers and children, appears in Gogol’s works. Bobchinsky tells how they met the government inspector at the innkeeper’s. ‘His [the innkeeper’s] wife had a baby three weeks ago, such a bright little chap, too, he’ll be running an inn himself one of these days, just like his dad’ (The Government Inspector, in 1998, 257). Kochkaryov, when persuading Podkolyosin to get married, tempts him by saying that he will have six children, ‘and they all resemble their papa, like peas in a pod’; he then replies:
‘But they are a confounded nuisance with their mischief: they’ll break everything and throw my papers call over the place.’
‘Agreed: they have their little pranks – but they’ll all be the spitting image of you, just think of that!’
‘I have to admit, it could even be rather entertaining: just imagine -there’s this little dumpling running around, a rascally little pup, and he’s the spitting image of you.’
‘It is entertaining, of course it’s entertaining. Good, now let’s get going.’
‘Very well, I suppose I might.’ (‘Marriage,’ in 1998, 193–4)
Podkolyosin then agrees to get married. The repetition of any mental act deprives it of its creative or significant nature, and by diminishing its significance can make it funny. A teacher or a lecturer who from year to year repeats his or her lesson with the same jokes and with the same expressions, the same mimicry and the same intonation, becomes funny for the students when they learn about it. ‘It must be the seventeenth time this has happened to me, and always in almost exactly the same way’ (‘Marriage,’ in Gogol 1998, 229) is how Zhevakin complains about his marriage proposal that failed.