row, centre aisle. Renmark noticed he was the first to get to his feet and leave when it was finished, no interest in coming up to him, as others did, with questions or to ear-bash him with their own obtuse arguments. At his age the regularity of Antillâs habits was unusual; it was conservative. Out of respect, he had taken to wearing one of Mrs Kentridgeâs expensive knitted ties, which didnât always match his bottle-green V-neck.
Stoicism, Cynics, the Thomists (the reasons behind these names). The foundations laid by the Ancients, their dialogues, the one who took poison, Logic, the endless difficulties of Ethics, to St Augustine, for theology has to enter, and so forth, towards the Moderns; Renmark found himself more and more speaking directly to the one in the front, his most attentive listener, as if the rest of the seats were empty. If Antill noticed, he gave no sign. He listened with expressionless concentration, oblivious to any whisperings and movements around him.
On this morning, Renmark had left the Continentals and was progressing smoothly up the Thames towards the deepest English thinkers.
As always, Renmark had for breakfast yoghurt and a green apple. He proceeded to explain language and falsehoods. There were theories of knowledge. How the empirical tradition formed. A Scottish philosopher was for a time tutor to a lunatic. Gathering up everything he knew, Renmark arranged it in reasonable order and gave it back to them â these students, now. The instability of sensations was an area he had become especially interested in. Speaking without notes, he was enjoying himself. What did it all mean?
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Antill pause and lower his pen. Still talking, Renmark looked at him openly. It was then Antill did the most startling thing of all. He began shaking his head at what was being said.
The following week Renmark took the rare step of leaving a note. He suggested Antill visit him in his office. Antill was seen to read it, but left before the lecture began. It didnât occur to Renmark that his most promising student was not really a student at all.
Those deep thinkers wearing the obligatory whiskers and who clearly practised the austere life had a lasting effect on Antill. Before he encountered their example he had been one person; after, he was an entirely different person. âI was only half-alive â or, not fully awake,â he explained to Rosie, sounding more like Clive Renmark. âIt was a before/after situation.â
He would often wonder where this sudden all-powerful interest came from.
The true philosophers were possessed of an ambition to erect an intricate word-model of the world, an explanation, parallel to the real world. Antill looked up to them and then became more composed. Between each lecture he had studied further, reading everything available, and so began weeding out the philosophers he found incomprehensible, and others who were all too comprehensible. Models that simply didnât stack up. The dead words â accumulated, overlapped. Of no use, the way old battleships were left to rust. Later, he would describe it as wearing someone elseâs heavy coat. It was a matter of casting off. The few philosophers he allowed (Germans), he set about examining and dismantling â their letters, notebooks â the details of their lives â conversations, scraps â until without actually discarding he placed them in the back of his mind somewhere, for possible reference, along with the memory of Renmark, the open-necked moist-lipped messenger.
Two times they saw each other again, both on Darlinghurst Road.
Near the fountain one afternoon Antill was standing on one foot as an older woman smart in a black dress, low neckline, argued with him. She could have been his mother, except her unhappiness was specific. A bachelor, Renmark probably lived nearby. Months later, down the seedier end, Antill saw Renmark talking to a
Stoicism, Cynics, the Thomists (the reasons behind these names). The foundations laid by the Ancients, their dialogues, the one who took poison, Logic, the endless difficulties of Ethics, to St Augustine, for theology has to enter, and so forth, towards the Moderns; Renmark found himself more and more speaking directly to the one in the front, his most attentive listener, as if the rest of the seats were empty. If Antill noticed, he gave no sign. He listened with expressionless concentration, oblivious to any whisperings and movements around him.
On this morning, Renmark had left the Continentals and was progressing smoothly up the Thames towards the deepest English thinkers.
As always, Renmark had for breakfast yoghurt and a green apple. He proceeded to explain language and falsehoods. There were theories of knowledge. How the empirical tradition formed. A Scottish philosopher was for a time tutor to a lunatic. Gathering up everything he knew, Renmark arranged it in reasonable order and gave it back to them â these students, now. The instability of sensations was an area he had become especially interested in. Speaking without notes, he was enjoying himself. What did it all mean?
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Antill pause and lower his pen. Still talking, Renmark looked at him openly. It was then Antill did the most startling thing of all. He began shaking his head at what was being said.
The following week Renmark took the rare step of leaving a note. He suggested Antill visit him in his office. Antill was seen to read it, but left before the lecture began. It didnât occur to Renmark that his most promising student was not really a student at all.
Those deep thinkers wearing the obligatory whiskers and who clearly practised the austere life had a lasting effect on Antill. Before he encountered their example he had been one person; after, he was an entirely different person. âI was only half-alive â or, not fully awake,â he explained to Rosie, sounding more like Clive Renmark. âIt was a before/after situation.â
He would often wonder where this sudden all-powerful interest came from.
The true philosophers were possessed of an ambition to erect an intricate word-model of the world, an explanation, parallel to the real world. Antill looked up to them and then became more composed. Between each lecture he had studied further, reading everything available, and so began weeding out the philosophers he found incomprehensible, and others who were all too comprehensible. Models that simply didnât stack up. The dead words â accumulated, overlapped. Of no use, the way old battleships were left to rust. Later, he would describe it as wearing someone elseâs heavy coat. It was a matter of casting off. The few philosophers he allowed (Germans), he set about examining and dismantling â their letters, notebooks â the details of their lives â conversations, scraps â until without actually discarding he placed them in the back of his mind somewhere, for possible reference, along with the memory of Renmark, the open-necked moist-lipped messenger.
Two times they saw each other again, both on Darlinghurst Road.
Near the fountain one afternoon Antill was standing on one foot as an older woman smart in a black dress, low neckline, argued with him. She could have been his mother, except her unhappiness was specific. A bachelor, Renmark probably lived nearby. Months later, down the seedier end, Antill saw Renmark talking to a
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