‘It is precisely because of my knowledge of such matters,’ said the chairman, ‘that I have been entrusted with the chairmanship.’
‘How can you possibly have witnessed everything that has happened since the inception of the game?’
‘I didn’t say I’d witnessed it. You asked me if I knew about it.’
‘You’ve read about it?’
‘Of course I’ve bloody read about it.’
Barthes smiled. ‘No further questions, your honour,’ he said.
‘Mr Barthes,’ said the chairman, ‘Please understand that you have no further accreditation at this event, and will be refused entry to all remaining matches.’
‘I’m not interested in attendance. I’m concerned with symbols and signifiers,’ said Barthes.
‘If attendance is not the point,’ asked the chairman, ‘where are you going to get a crowd from?’
‘The crowd is a function of the commentary, not of the game,’ said Barthes. ‘The better the commentator, the better the crowd.’
‘Your crowd wouldn’t fill a phone booth, Roland. They’re a bunch of seed-spillers who wouldn’t know if you were up them with an armful of chairs. Without the game none of you would exist. You want to wake up to yourself, son.’
‘We sell more copies of Paris-Match than you do of the official program,’ said Barthes. ‘You’re out of touch, pal. People are much more absorbed by what it all signifies than they are by what actually happened.’
‘And what does it all signify, as a matter of interest?’
‘Not telling,’ said Barthes. ‘Buy the magazine.’
Day 15
Muir v. Toulouse-Lautrec • Huxley v. Robeson • Wodehouse v. Chagall • Wells v. Hearn • West v. Stead • Bankhead v. Smith • Arendt v. Beach • Wittgenstein v. Lawrence • Nijinsky v. Hartley • Spock v. Diaghilev • Seurat v. Ernst • Wright v. Rilke • Derain v. Prevert
Last night world rankings were tossed in the air and fancied players treated to some of the rudest awakenings on record. Toulouse-Lautrec, Chagall, Lawrence, Diaghilev, Lloyd Wright and Ernst are all out of the men’s draw. West, Beach and Bankhead were toppled in the women’s.
Le Monde carried a large front-page photograph this morning of Edwin Muir in a tam-o’-shanter being congratulated by popular night-owl Henri Toulouse-Lautrec after their match, under the headline, SCOT THE WHOLE WORLD IN HIS HANDS. French officials were furious. They felt Lautrec had ‘wasted his chances’, had been ‘very silly and a show-off’.
Great deeds continued to mount as the bookies’ nightmare deepened. Aldous Huxley’s pedigree includes a good portion of the stud-book in his native England. Brothers Julian and Andrew and grandfather T. H. all have their names etched on the British championship and he is ranked seventy places above the man who beat him, the American Paul Robeson. ‘Paul’s good,’ said Huxley, pouring balm into his own wounds. ‘He’s a big man and he hits the ball hard but he can also hit it softly. You can prepare for the power stuff because you expect it. It’s the gentle stuff that gets you.’
‘Aldous wasn’t seeing it well,’ said Robeson, ‘but he played beautifully. I enjoyed the match. The Welsh were there, the Russians, the Africans and Asians. The only ones missing were the American Davis Cup selectors.’
Completing the night’s revels was Plum Wodehouse, whose opponent, the illustrious Russian Marc Chagall, has become almost synonymous with French tennis. Chagall flew through the first set but then tired and even had a little lie down at the top of the court. His other problem was Wodehouse, whose return of service was deadly. ‘It had to be,’ he said. ‘Friend Chagall climbs all over his first serve and if I hadn’t had a rigorous workout recently from a particularly helpful aunt, it may well have been curtains.’
On Court 4 this afternoon the Herbie Wells–Lafcadio Hearn match was in progress. Sitting at courtside was Wells’ mixed-doubles partner Rebecca West. It was clear from the way Wells glared at her between points that her comments were increasingly unsettling him.
‘Will you be quiet, please?’ he asked her at 6–3 and 3–0. ‘I know what I’m doing. Look at the board. I’m 6–3 and 3–0.’
‘You’ll lose,’ she said, and pulled her collar up.
Herbie appealed to have her removed but the umpire indicated there had been no actual offence.
‘Would it help if I left?’ asked Hearn, insistent on a gesture of some kind.
‘She’s talking while I’m trying to play,’ said Wells. ‘It’s outrageous.’
‘I’m trying to help,’ said West.
‘I don’t need help,’ said Wells. ‘I’m winning.’
‘You’ll lose,’ said West and pulled her collar higher.
‘I don’t think I can continue to play,’ said Wells.
‘What can you continue to do?’ asked West.
‘Quiet, please,’ said the umpire. ‘Mr Wells to serve.’
‘She’s looking at me,’ said Herbie.
‘Everyone’s looking at you,’ said West. ‘Isn’t that what you want?’
‘The Japanese are a serene people, devoted to ritual,’ said Hearn. ‘They would have a way of dealing with this.’
‘No argument with that,’ conceded Wells. ‘We have much to learn from the medieval warlord cultures.’
‘The English, for example,’ said West.
‘You really are a fraud,’ said Wells. ‘You’re not in the least bit interested in the Irish cause.’
‘I don’t have to be,’ said West. ‘I am Irish.’
‘Mr Wells to serve,’ said the umpire. ‘Quiet, please.’
Wells served. Hearn served. Wells served. In the fourth set he got so jumpy he sent down fifteen double-faults. In the end he escaped 7–5.
‘You’re useless,’ said West.
‘I won,’ said Herbie.
‘Lucky,’ said West.
‘I’m playing some of the best tennis of my life,’ he said.
‘Who are you playing in the next round?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Wells.
‘You’ll lose,’ said West and turned away.
Elsewhere Frida Kahlo announced she would not play any further matches with partner Diego Rivera and requested assistance in removing a tattoo of Rivera from the middle of her forehead. And Peggy Guggenheim, who had insisted to officials that she and Beckett would play together, said Beckett knew nothing of this and she now wished to compete with Max Ernst.
Later this afternoon West herself was knocked out of the singles by the promising Australian Christina Stead, who offered West her support. ‘Rebecca