I enjoyed these quotes from R.G.M. Nisbet, “William Smith Watt 1913-2002,” Proceedings of the British Academy 124 (2004) 358-372 (via Laudator Temporis Acti):
In one respect Mods went beyond anything offered at Glasgow: the questions set on some of the prepared books dealt predominantly with textual criticism. Candidates were presented with short extracts or ‘gobbets’ from these authors, and invited to consider the various readings with arguments for and against; to conclude that the crux was insoluble and deserving of the obelus might be taken as a sign of precocious perspicacity. The direction of scholars’ studies depends on early influences more than one likes to admit, and all his life Watt was to be superb at doing gobbets, though as time went on he hit the nail on the head more expeditiously than was thought necessary in Mods.
…he described the Lateinische Grammatik of Hofmann and Szantyr as an exciting book…
Few knew of his love of English as well as Latin poetry: as a young man he had learned by heart the whole of Palgrave’s Golden Treasury, much of the anthology of longer poems known as The English Parnassus, and (like Macaulay) all of Paradise Lost, so that fifty years later when given a line he could continue; this was an astonishing achievement even for the days when learning poetry was thought to have more educational value than writing about it. In Latin he knew by heart all of Lucretius and Virgil and much else besides, which he could declaim with an exuberant feeling for the power of rhythm and poetic language; if delayed on a station platform on the way to one of his numerous committees he would recite silently to himself.
I envy him; I get so much pleasure out of my exiguous tatters of memorized poetry (which is indeed useful for mental recitation during boring meetings, or when sleep is fugitive) that I wish I had a great deal more. (But I don’t understand what is meant by “he hit the nail on the head more expeditiously than was thought necessary in Mods”; any ideas?) And if anyone is wondering about the word gobbet, it’s from Middle English gobet, from Old French, diminutive of gobe ‘mouthful’, which is of Celtic origin; the OED (revised 2016) says (s.v. gob):
Probably < Irish gob and Scottish Gaelic gob beak, mouth (Early Irish gop muzzle, snout, beak) < a Celtic base of uncertain, probably expressive, origin.
Notes
It has been suggested that the Celtic base is related to Old Church Slavonic ozobati to consume, to destroy, Lithuanian žėbti to gobble, to covet, but this poses phonological problems.
(But I don’t understand what is meant by “he hit the nail on the head more expeditiously than was thought necessary in Mods”; any ideas?)
A student who was too quick with a good answer seemed glib, or a smart-arse? Activated the faculty’s usually dormant insecurities?
I once saw kebap translated on an Istanbul menu as “meat in gobbets”.
That “quote him something from somewhere in the middle of Paradise Lost and he’ll accurately give you the next line” skill is also said to have been possessed by the somewhat younger Harold Bloom (1930-2019). I don’t know if there’s anyone still alive and walking around the planet who can do it, but I suppose it would be nice if there were even though I’m not much for Milton myself.
he hit the nail on the head more expeditiously than was thought necessary in Mods
I think it just means that he was better at it in later life than anyone taking exams as an undergraduate would have to be or could realistically be expected to be.
I don’t think it’s meant to imply that the examiners would have been offended by a similarly clever answer from a student. I don’t think Balliol examiners are much troubled by self-doubt as a rule. (And in my own limited experience as a viva examiner, I was generally grateful if the candidate could say anything interesting at all.)
I think it just means that he was better at it in later life than anyone taking exams as an undergraduate would have to be.
Ah, you must be right.
Yes, I didn’t pay enough attention to “as time went on”.
By the way, @Hat, the link above to The English Parnassus is not to a collection of long poems but to a 17th-century book subtitled A helpe to English poesie containing a collection of all rhyming monosyllables, the choicest epithets, and phrases : with some general forms upon all occasions, subjects, and theams, alphabeticaly digested : together with a short institution to English poesie, by way of a preface. (I think I’d better read it.)
I did know a chap (untroubled by self-doubt, but a good bloke when you got to know him) who complained about a forthcoming viva that it was a pointless exercise because he knew the subject much better than the examiners.
The thing is, he really did …
I’ve never had this problem myself. It must be dreadful.
I remember also an examiner of the College of Surgeons viva who said that he was so anxious the night before the first viva that he could hardly sleep. “The candidate will have been boning up on this stuff for months. I’ll ask a question, and the candidate will run with it, and it’ll be obvious that I’m out of my depth. I’ll look like a complete idiot in front of the other examiner.” (You examine in pairs.)
He said that in the event, he was relieved to find that most of the candidates were so freaked out that you had to guide them gently through the simplest questions …
One of the two examiners in my own neurology viva in the Fellowship exam was a man I knew well personally: ophthalmology is a small world and this is inevitable sometimes. The rule is (or was) that you both point this out, and then the examiner you know just observes while the other asks all the questions. Afterwards, at the sherry reception for successful candidates, he told me that at one point : “I could have shaken you! I knew you knew the right answer, and you weren’t saying it!“
Here’s the English Parnassus anthology:
https://www.google.com/books/edition/The_English_Parnassus/nyFLAAAAIAAJ?hl=en&gbpv=1&dq=The+English+parnassus&printsec=frontcover
By the way, @Hat, the link above to The English Parnassus is not to a collection of long poems but to a 17th-century book
Well, that was sloppy of me! Thanks, I’ve replaced the link with an Internet Archive one.