TRANSLATING HUMOR: P. G.

WODEHOUSE AND FRENCH Roger Billerey In spite of its very nature, which is to study concrete instances of human language in order to render them in another idiom, translation is often the parent pauvre of linguistic studies. Why? Possibly because, as the poor performance of computer-aided translation seems to demonstrate, it cannot be considered in purely scientific and/or technical terms, and requires more than a little intuitiveness, finesse and instinct. We shall discuss a possible--but by no means definitive--definition of the process of translation, and illustrate it with the study of a few examples taken from P. G. Wodehouses The Mating Season, which highlight various ways in which linguistic analysis and intuition are blended in the process of translation from English into French. Hazo's very broad definition of translation as a process which "occurs when something is changed or transformed into something else, when one thing becomes another" (3) suggests an analogy with geometry. Through a geometric translation, an object engenders another object of identical dimensions in another location; similarly, translation creates a new text from an already existing one, with which the former shares a common meaning and overall contour. Furthermore, just as the physical distance between the original object and its translated image depends on the norm of the vector of the translation, the translated text will be all the more distant from an exact literal rendering of the original as the two languages themselves are distant in terms of syntax, vocabulary or culture. This distance, however, can hardly be quantified objectively, and this is precisely where this analogy falls short. As a geometric translation operates within a single space, the translated object is the exact image of the original; linguistic translation, on the other hand, operates from one particular space into another, whose own distinct characteristics prevent any such identity between the source and the translated text. There is more to translation than a mere displacing of words--and the shortcomings of the analogy above become obvious when one remembers that two distinct words are used in French to refer to these transformations: la traduction, therefore, is not une translation. While non-coincidence may be considered as the tragic flaw of translation, it is conversely the driving force of humor, which thrives on incongruity, as was expressed by Crothers: "There must be two trains of thought going at full speed

in opposite directions, so that there may be a collision" (374). Such a collision may occur on several levels, the most immediate being that of the signifier itself. The unconventional use or distortion of a particular signifier thwarts the reader's or hearer's expectations by introducing a set of alien denotations and connotations in a context that does not normally call for them, which induces surprise and laughter. Operating essentially on the level of denotation, puns and spoonerisms replace the expected signifier with another whose appearance is similar but whose meaning is incongruously different. On the other hand, register and tone clashes substitute a signifier whose meaning is not unexpected but whose connotations come as a blatant contrast with the context in which it is inserted, as is the case with "learned words in non-learned environments" (Hall, 89) or "marked colloquial expressions [...] in the midst of very formal discourse" (ibid). In this case, the non-coincidence of connotations between two given languages, which was already a hurdle on the path of translation, is greatly magnified, as such a manipulation is not necessarily possible in the target language, and even so, the substitutes available to the translator may not have the same array of connotations as the one used in the original text, and thus not strike the same chord in the reader's mind. This paper focuses on translation problems stemming from the primary level of the signifier and their syntactic materializations. Syntax here is understood in quite a broad sense, as it encompasses the use of pronouns, determiners and verbs with particles. General linguistic considerations will be kept to a minimum, unless they can be applied directly to a particular problem and help the translator find better solutions to it. Among Wodehouse's seemingly innumerable stylistic trademarks, his use of the pronoun one is quite remarkable, both for its frequency and stylistic effectiveness. Two main functions can be made out, which will be illustrated by a short corpus of examples. The first function can be defined as an expression of modesty, be it genuine or affected, the latter providing a privileged context for such a structure:
A: One hadn't supposed one's reputation was so far-flung (12). B: [Esmond] "How do you think of those things ?" [Bertie] "Oh, they just come to one" (61).

This function of the pronoun one hinges on its ambiguous character: as a general characteristic, the referent of one may or may not include the speaker, depending on the degree of generalization of the sentence. In these particular

examples, this allows the speaker not to identify himself explicitly as the subject of his sentence, as the use of I would imply (for I is actually what is meant), and thus not to ascribe his boast explicitly to himself. His sentence then takes on an indefinite guise that is nevertheless clear enough to allow the hearer or reader to understand that the referent of one is actually the speaker himself. On the translation front, this use of one seems to find an appropriate equivalent in French with the pronoun on. As attested in Grevisse, "on [peut] dsigner une ou plusieurs personnes bien dtermines [...] avec une nuance stylistique (discrtion, modestie, ironie, mpris, etc.) mme dans la langue la plus soigne, au lieu de je, tu, nous, vous, il(s), elle(s)" (1140, emphasis added). If this solution is used for example A, however, the possessive one's cannot be translated by sa, for this would make the sentence ambiguous and unclear as to whose reputation is alluded to, as the following translation shows:
A': On ne se doutait pas que sa rputation ft aussi tendue.

This is but a minor problem, since it can be solved with a slightly different thematization of the dependent clause, using rputation as the object and on as the subject, which will eliminate the need for a possessive adjective before rputation:
A': On ne se doutait pas qu'on et une rputation aussi tendue.

Even though such a translation could appear as appropriate, we shall see when examining the other use of one that a better solution can be found--for this one lacks some of the typical Wodehousian "oomph". Example B offers a different problem: one being used as an indirect object, on cannot be used in French. In such cases, it is usually replaced by vous, and a translation could be:
B': [Esmond] "Comment pouvez-vous penser des choses pareilles?" [Bertie] "Oh, elles vous viennent simplement l'esprit."

However, this is not appropriate, because vous is essentially a second person pronoun, and thus refers either to the other character or to some undetermined referent, but hardly to the speaker himself since, as a second person pronoun, it excludes him--whereas one, if it does not explicitly refer to the speaker exclusively, does not exclude him. Besides, the context (a dialogue) makes it difficult to use vous for generalizing purposes, because it could be understood

as a reference to the other character. Another element to be kept in mind is the stylistic effect produced by the use of one in such a context. As a third person pronoun, one is rarely used in current speech, and when actually used it serves generalizing purposes. When it appears in such a situation where it actually has a specific, known--albeit not explicitly identified--referent, it has an incongruous ring, which should ideally be rendered in the translation as well. A solution for example B may be found in complete indetermination. This would make up for the deficiencies of vous, while at the same time endowing the sentence with an unusual tone which would render the stylistic effect of one quite effectively. Example B would then become in French:
B': [Esmond] "Comment pouvez-vous penser des choses pareilles?" [Bertie] "Oh, elles viennent simplement l'esprit."

The other function of one that can be found in The Mating Season is illustrated by the following examples:
C: [Esmond] "You are going to say that it is not Wooster's fault that she looks like a slightly enlarged cheesemite. Very true. One strives to be fair. But [...] he is a menace to the community" (167). D: [Bertie] The revelation of this deeper, coshing side to Jeeves's character had come as something of a shock to me. One found oneself wondering how far the thing would spread (215). E: [Esmond] "Doesn't one rather want to keep visiting valets out of this?" [Bertie] "No, one does not want to keep visiting valets out of this", I said firmly (225). F: [Esmond] "One needs a lot of bracing up these days, I find" (54).

This use of one has what could be termed a distancing effect, and here again, one allows the speaker to "play" with the referent. This time, his communicative aim is not to include himself in it on the sly, but to make the hearer focus on an indefinite (non-identified) referent which, as it is not explicitly identified as the speaker, may or may not actually be the speaker himself. By suppressing the trace of the speaker's presence and role as the theme of the sentence, one somewhat redeems him by ascribing the shameful or negative statement that follows to this non-identified referent, this non-person, and thus erasing or at least covering up some of his commitment.

To this value must be added the stylistic effect produced by the use of one in current speech, as was previously mentioned, and Bertie's repeating Esmond's sentence verbatim in example E provides a good example of the coexistence of this distancing value and of the stylistic effect of one: Bertie perceives Esmond's reluctance to commit himself and the subsequent unnaturalness of his sentence, so he repeats the exact same phrasing to make Esmond realize the absurdity of his suggestion. This makes the need for an adequate translation of Esmond's sentence all the more acute. If Esmond's sentence were not repeated exactly by Bertie, a passive or impersonal structure in French would be sufficient to render his meaning, since it could emphasize the process conveyed by the verb and erase the subject, which would nevertheless be understood. Esmond uses an oblique word choice to conceal his main point--his embarrassment at the idea of having his personal love affair handled by a stranger, and what is more a valet--under a semblance of concern for social conventions; this could be translated by such verbs as convenir de or tre prfrable, for instance:
E': [Esmond] "Ne convient-il pas plutt de laisser les valets de chambre en visite en dehors de tout cela?"

However, such a solution would not be quite appropriate, because it would translate only the distancing effect of one while neglecting its stylistic function, thus considerably lessening the impact of Bertie's repetition with a phrasing in French that would bear no particular hint of unnaturalness or incongruity:
E' [cont.]: [Bertie] "Non, il ne convient pas de laisser les valets de chambre en visite en dehors de tout cela", rtorquai-je avec fermet.

In this respect, a stylistic device must be used to render both Esmond's reluctance and the unnaturalness of his sentence. To this effect, the French form l'on can be used convincingly. Just as one in current speech, it is used much more commonly in written contexts than in current spoken French, and will be noticed quite strikingly if used by itself at the beginning of a sentence: as the l' is essentially introduced for ease of pronunciation when on would follow a vocalic sound, there is no need for it at the beginning of a sentence, since it would follow a pause, and therefore the correct-but-unnecessary use of the form l'on as opposed to the expected on will be perceived as an oddity which provides an appropriate equivalent to the stylistic effect of one in English. This solution can be applied quite effectively to example B, which will thus gain the adequate "oomph" that on alone was unable to provide, as well as examples C and D,

which show similar oblique word choices:

B': L'on ne se doutait pas que l'on et une rputation aussi tendue. C': L'on tche d'tre objectif. D': L'on en venait se demander jusqu'o cela pourrait bien s'tendre.

Back to example E, where the negation provides another opportunity to emphasize the stylistic effect of Esmond's word choice. In French, ne...pas and ne...point are both correct and in use, but the latter structure, just as l'on, is restricted to certain contexts, mainly to the written form, and since it comes in a paradigmatic opposition to the more common ne...pas, its use is endowed with a certain stylistic value of refinement. It will therefore be particularly noticed in spoken language as rather unusual and contrived, which reflects the unnaturalness of Esmond's sentence and the feelings that he is trying to convey under a pretense of non-commitment. Example E could then be translated as:
E': [Esmond] "Est-ce que l'on ne prfre point laisser les valets de chambre en visite en dehors de tout cela?" [Bertie] "Non, l'on ne prfre point laisser les valets de chambre en visite en dehors de tout cela", rtorquai-je avec fermet.

Lastly, example F offers an interesting example of a need for more elaboration in the French rendering. The exact structure of Esmond's sentence cannot be reproduced in French, because the sentence-final position of the declarative verb "I find" is quite typical of an English phrasing as opposed to the word order that would be preferred in French, as Vinay and Darbelnet suggest:
La position finale absolue est certainement privilgie en Franais [...] on y trouve de prfrence des mots forts [...] ces mots sont gnralement toffs, et comportent au moins deux syllabes, souvent plus. Aussi, la squence nom polysyllabique + adjectif polysyllabique est-elle trs recherche comme chute de priode, en position finale.[...] Le franais vite de terminer ses phrases sur des mots aussi courts que "it", "us", "one", "also", "said", etc. qui seraient atones dans la plupart des cas. En outre, ces mots-outils ne sont pas, en gnral, des lments essentiels du propos, auquel le franais rserve [...] une place de choix en fin de phrase (215-216).

For this reason, the French translation of example F is likely to feature the declarative verb equivalent to "I find" sentence-initially. It follows that the stylistic effect of l'on as previously mentioned will be radically weakened: the

use of l' is then quite predictable, since on will follow a vowel at the end of the conjunction que, in which case que l'on is quite frequently preferred over the elided form qu'on. We thus need to find another way to render the use of one in English. This can be effectively achieved by using an adverb that will carry the distancing effect of one through an understatement. Such a method illustrates well the working of a modulation, as defined by Vinay and Darbelnet: one attenuates the vividness that the need for "bracing up" has for the speaker by ascribing it--on the surface--to a more general referent, but actually referring to the speaker himself; in French, the strength of the need is attenuated directly by an adverb which has a weakening meaning superficially but in effect acts as a reinforcement. In this particular case, the adverb passablement can be used to this effect, as the following translation of example F demonstrates:
F': Je trouve que l'on a passablement besoin de remontants ces temps-ci.

Next to the peculiar use of one that was just analyzed, another characteristic of Wodehouse's style is his manipulation of the definite article. Aside from the traditional English uses of the--which do not strictly overlap the range of the French definite article and may be sources of translation difficulties in their own right--Wodehouse plays with the presence or absence of the article in unexpected contexts to achieve a number of stylistic effects. The most striking of these idioyncrasies is probably the systematic use of the definite article to refer to body parts in place of the expected possessive adjective. In contexts where an English person would shake his or her head, Bertie almost always uses the, as for instance in "I moved up to his end of the table, licking the lips" (51) or "I raised the hand" (59). Given Wodehouse's obsession with the mot juste, this is not gratuitous: by deliberately using a non-typical form, he slightly upsets conventions and thus thwarts the reader's unconscious expectations. In French, unfortunately, the definite article (with or without an indirect pronoun) is precisely what is expected in such contexts, which suggests that the peculiar ring of the original text will be lost, as the translation of the second example cited above illustrates: Je levai la main. This loss should ideally be compensated whenever possible, which can be achieved by choosing a word in French that would both carry the denotative content of the English phrase and be slightly out-of-context, and for instance the first example above could be translated as me lchant les babines. This method can be applied most effectively when the original word choice itself is fanciful, and slang words in particular offer privileged opportunities for such an approach, as the following example illustrates:

G: Then, as if a bomb had suddenly exploded inside the bean, he shot up with a stifled cry [...] (28)

A great number of slang synonyms of "head" are available in French, such as le citron or la caboche, to name a few, and an appropriate compensation can be accomplished by choosing an especially picturesque word:
G:Puis, comme si une bombe lui avait soudainement explos dans la cafetire, il jaillit de sa chaise avec un cri touff [...]

If compensation is recommended whenever possible, the translator should nevertheless not go overboard: as a great number of similar examples can be found throughout the novel, systematic overtranslation would have the opposite effect to the one desired and become contrived, all the more so as the structure being translated is a mere definite article followed by a noun. For this reason, literal translation and the loss it entails will then be frequently--albeit reluctantly--accepted. In a number of cases, the unexpected use of the definite article carries another nuance that is interestingly similar to one of the functions of one analyzed above:
H: However, I will own that this communication distinctly eased the spirit (131). I: "And why are you looking as if you had slept in your clothes?" she asked, giving the upholstery a look of distaste (182). J: [...] one of God's less likable creatures with about a hundred and fourteen legs [...] was doing its daily dozen on the sensitive skin, but did Nature care? Not a hoot (135).

As this selection of examples illustrates, the definite article is preferred over a possessive adjective in contexts that are similar to those when one is employed instead of I, namely when the speaker does not want to ascribe a negative statement to himself or tries to conceal his embarrassment. He resorts to an under-determined form that enables him to give his sentence a pseudo-generic appearance by not stating explicitly whose "upholstery", "spirit"or "sensitive skin" is alluded to, while at the same time allowing the reader to understand that he is not talking about anybody else. Contrary to the previous examples, for which compensation was not vital, the stylistic function of the definite article here is too important to be neglected in the translation. A mere definite article would be inadequate, as it would not provide sufficient determination, while a

first-person possessive adjective, on the other hand, would be over-determined and cancel the embarrassed nuance of the English phrase altogether. The similarity that was highlighted above between this pseudo-generic use of the and that of one suggests that a comparable effect can be achieved by using the pronoun on or another possessive adjective. Example H does not lend itself to the use of on proper, but Grevisse points out that "s'il faut exprimer un pronom personnel ou un possessif renvoyant on pris dans le sens indfini, on se sert de nous [...] ou, plus souvent, de vous (quand le locuteur s'efface [...])" (1141). As Bertie is talking to himself and/or to the reader, no ambiguity is possible as to whom vous would refer to (as opposed to a dialogue, for instance, as shown above in the analysis of one), and thus vous can be used effectively to achieve the desired compensation:
H': Je concderai cependant que cette communication vous soulageait notablement l'esprit.

Such a method cannot be strictly applied to examples I and J, if only because it would entail excessive changes in the original word order. However, it suggests a related approach with the facetious use of the third person. Once considered a characteristic of the language of kings, referring to oneself in the third person has come to be a common form of mock-modesty, especially with the phrase votre serviteur, which provides a particularly appropriate rendering of the English text, for it conceals any explicit reference to the first person, as do Bertie's "the upholstery" and "the sensitive skin", while at the same time clearly identifying the person that is being referred to. Examples I and J could then be translated as follows:
I': "Et pourquoi avez-vous l'air d'avoir dormi dans vos vtements?" demanda-telle, considrant avec dgot l'ajustement de votre serviteur. J': [...] une crature du seigneur des moins avenantes, quipe d'environ cent quatorze pattes [...] faisait sa gymnastique quotidienne sur la peau sensible de votre serviteur, mais mre Nature s'en souciait-elle? Pas le moins du monde.

As was stressed before, such a device should not be overused, as it would become too conspicuous and predictable, and therefore run counter to the desired effect, which is a compensation for the unexpected use of the definite article. The appropriateness in a given context of such renderings as suggested above is left to the translator's appreciation of the rhythm of the passage-nevertheless, it is not unreasonable to consider that Wodehouse's jaunty style will generally accommodate these elaborations quite readily in most cases.

The last issue which will now be addressed is that of verbs with particles, and more specifically verbs indicating motion, such as run in or walk out, for instance. These verbs are traditionally studied with reference to translation problems, because they offer a particularly striking illustration of an important divergence in the way in which French and English represent motion syntactically. Vinay and Darbelnet provide a clear summary of the phenomenon:
Le rsultat est marqu en anglais par la particule [...] occupant dans la phrase la mme place que la locution adverbiale qui en franais indique la modalit de l'action. Cette modalit est rendue en anglais par le verbe lui-mme, alors que le verbe franais indique le rsultat (105).

They call the phenomenon that occurs during the translation of these verbs a "chass-crois", which a simple example can illustrate quite tellingly: they ran out becomes in French: ils sortirent en courant The chass-crois is employed almost systematically and automatically with most common verbs such as the example above, but, as was mentioned before, Wodehouse takes pride in the extreme refinement of his text and always strives for the mot juste, which leads him to use such phrases as "he shimmered out" (29), "He oozed out, and a few moments later oozed in again" (10) or "they trickled out" (242). In these cases, no single verb in French is able to carry both the functional meaning and the expressiveness of the English phrase on its own, and the chass-crois becomes an actual translation method to which the translator resorts consciously to find an appropriate rendering of the original text. Even so, unfortunately, the literal meaning will generally be lost. In the first example, neither il sortit en chatoyant or il sortit en scintillant can be used because the static, descriptive meaning of chatoyer and scintiller does not lend itself to a gerund (grondif) form in a punctual context1. In the second and third examples, suinter can obviously not be used in an active meaning with a person as an agent, nor can the phrase au compte-gouttes, for it requires either a greater
This is true even with a semantically congruous, inanimate subject such as la lune: La lune se leva, chatoyante or scintillante is better than ?La lune se leva en chatoyant or en scintillant, because what is modified by chatoyer or scintiller is la lune and not the process of se lever, which is what the grondif structure would modify.
1

number of people or a continuous process, as in the phrase ces articles sont distribus au compte-gouttes, for instance. This does not invalidate the method of the chass-crois itself, but it suggests that the adverbial part in the French translation will have to be more expressive than literally accurate, while still rendering the general idea conveyed by the English verb. To this effect, a rare adverb or elaborate adverbial phrase will be preferred so as to retain the refined impression produced by the original text, and "he shimmered out" may then become il sortit dans un souffle. However convenient and systematic the chass-crois may seem, it proves inadequate in a number of cases. In the second example cited above, "He oozed out, and a few moments later oozed in again", two stylistic elements appear simultaneously, with the choice of a particularly expressive verb and its repetition in a parallel construction, and to translate the verbs ooze in and ooze out with a traditional chass-crois would only render the peculiarity of the word choice through the adverbial phrase and not the repetition, as two different verbs would be used in French (entrer and sortir). On the other hand, to choose two close-sounding verbs in French, such as disparatre and reparatre, would reproduce only the parallel construction used in English while not rendering the peculiarity of the original word choice in a convincing way. One possible solution is then to combine these two approaches and use two close verbs in conjunction with an adverb or adverbial phrase that would carry the stylistic incongruity of the original word choice. This solution provides an interesting illustration of Vinay and Darbelnet's concept of transposition, as the semantic element of the English particles is conveyed by the verbs used in the translation, while the description of the process, along with its incongruous appearance, shifts from the verbs onto an adverb or adverbial phrase in French: Il disparut fluidement, et quelques instants aprs reparut de mme. While the chass-crois does yield acceptable results in most cases, it sometimes cannot be used at all, and the translator must find a self-contained verb that will convey both the objective meaning of the English phrase and its expressive function. Let us consider the following example: "Dame Daphne told Esmond Haddock not to be too long over his port, and popped off" (51). Indeed, if the particle "off" can easily be translated with the verb partir, what adverb could render the meaning and onomatopoeic quality of "pop"? Ideally, then, the translator must find a verb that would both mean to leave and have a phonetic or rhythmic aspect that would approximate that of "pop". Albeit not onomatopoeic, s'clipser is probably the best equivalent, since its meaning is close enough to "pop off" and the short plosive sounds [k] and [p] give it a peculiar phonetic aspect that is arguably consistent with its connotation of

quickness. In the last example that will now be discussed, the difficulty is heightened by the context in which the verb is used:
K: There was a flash of pink, and Esmond Haddock came in [...] We will [...] expunge that "came" at the conclusion of the previous spasm and substitute for it "curvetted". There was a flash of pink, and Esmond Haddock curvetted in. I don't know if you have ever seen a fellow curvet, but war-horses used to do it rather freely in the old days [...] (219-220)

With a chass-crois, the result of the process is conveyed by the verb, as it is usually the main semantic element of the phrase, while the manner in which the process is accomplished is described by an adverbial phrase. In this case, however, the essential information is the manner in which Esmond comes in, as it reflects his elation, and the particle merely serves as an indication of the direction of his curvetting. As it would emphasize the latter over the former, recourse to a chass-crois is thus impossible, and the only acceptable solution would be to mirror the English structure by using a verb whose meaning would render the idea conveyed by curvet, adjusting the context accordingly to provide the information carried by the mere particle in in the original text. The verb curvet can obviously not be translated literally with faire des courbettes, as it has quite different connotations in French, but a solution is provided by the allusion to the "war-horses", which suggests the verb caracoler. Besides, the last sentence of the previous chapter will also have to be altered to allow Wodehouse's correction in the following paragraphs. The example cited above could then become in French:
K': Esmond Haddock entra dans ma chambre [...] Nous liminerons [...] le faible "entra" qui concluait la convulsion prcdente pour le remplacer par "caracola". Il y eut un clair rose, et Esmond Haddock caracola dans ma chambre. Je ne sais pas si vous avez dj vu un type caracoler, mais les chevaux de bataille le faisaient assez couramment dans le temps [...]

The examples that were discussed in this paper showed that similar problems do not necessarily command a single approach, and that translation methods are helpful as long as they are not applied systematically and indiscriminately. It generally follows that several options are offered to the translator, whose stylistic and linguistic sense govern the final decision. As the opening reflections of this study suggested, there is more to

translation than a mere transfer of words from a language into another--just as there is more to the act of writing than a mere combination of words. Writing is a permanent choice, and every single word has an influence on all the others: one word can alter the meaning of a whole passage by introducing a subtle nuance, a different register or a particular polysemy that allows the text to drift in a completely new direction. As an instance of writing in its own right, translation itself is also a permanent choice--the difference being that this choice is far from being open, as tremendous constraints are imposed by the original text and must be respected. Translation frequently becomes adaptation, and the issue of choice is then crucial: the word or phrase that is chosen must not only translate the meaning of the source as closely as possible, but also reflect the connotations carried and the overall impression conveyed by the original phrasing--a daunting task indeed. Roger Billerey Universit de Bordeaux III, France. A graduate student from the University of Bordeaux III, France, I completed my Matrise in English and Linguistics in 1996. I am currently working as a Lecturer in French at UC Santa Barbara, and I intend to enter an MA/PhD program in Linguistics in the USA, possibly at UCLA. WORKS CITED PRINTED BOOKS Escarpit, Robert. L'humour. Paris: PUF, 1960. Grevisse, Maurice. Le bon usage, 12me d. Paris: Duculot, 1986. Hall, Robert A., Jr. The Comic Style of P. G. Wodehouse. Hamden, CN: Archon Books, 1974. Vinay, J.P. & J.Darbelnet. Stylistique compare du franais et de l'anglais. Paris: Didier, 1958, 1977. Wodehouse, P.G. The Mating Season. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1949. ARTICLES Crothers, Samuel M. "The Mission of Humor". Atlantic Monthly vol. 84 (Sept. 1899). Boston & New York: Houghton, Mifflin & Co.: 372-381. Hazo, Samuel. "So True as to be Invisible". Translation Review 41 (1993). Dallas: U of Texas: 3-10.