Is the child really the father of the man (or mother of the woman) as Wordsworth envisaged back in 1802? \u00a0I wondered this as I watched a nativity event last week at my grandchildren's school. \u00a0It was no surprise that this Church of England foundation school, which not only traces its history to 1714 but still uses an early 18th century building, gave us a traditional nativity story. \u00a0I did wonder at one point about what seemed to be 6 wise men, one of whom was played by a girl, but it turned out that she was playing one of the camels that the magi rode on: both ecologically sound and culturally authentic. \u00a0There was nothing progressive here, just a lot of youngsters having a good shout and sing which was well organised and supported by teachers. \u00a0Enjoyable it certainly was.<\/p>\n
But, confronted with all those reception and year 1 children, my mind wandered to Wordsworth, and oddly perhaps also to Thomas Gray and his Elergy. \u00a0Wordsworth, notionally writing about a rainbow, said:<\/p>\n
My heart leaps up when I behold
\nA rainbow in the sky:
\nSo was it when my life began;
\nSo is it now I am a man;
\nSo be it when I shall grow old,
\nOr let me die!
\nThe Child is father of the Man;
\nAnd I could wish my days to be
\nBound each to each by natural piety<\/p>\n
The poem reflects the poet's hope that the fulfilment that he now finds in nature (\"the rainbow\") which he remembered also having as a child, will continue into old age and death. \u00a0If not, he says, life will be worthless.<\/p>\n
But that is essentially all it says and it is not some Jesuitical text about shaping the adult through the child, or enforced values enduring, and whilst it is entertaining to scan a group of eager-looking children at a nativity, it's surely a mistake to think that you can see the adult in them. \u00a0Much better to think that the child is, as is the adult, in a state of becoming the person they will eventually be. \u00a0Just as I am, at my advancing age, and you at yours. \u00a0I may be running out of time to improve myself, but it is still possible.<\/p>\n
As for Thomas Gray, well, this came to mind:<\/p>\n
...<\/p>\n
Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
\nSome heart once pregnant with celestial fire;
\nHands, that the rod of empire might have sway'd,
\nOr waked to ecstasy the living lyre:<\/p>\n
But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
\nRich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll;
\nChill Penury repress'd their noble rage,
\nAnd froze the genial current of the soul.<\/p>\n
Full many a gem of purest ray serene
\nThe dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear:
\nFull many a flower is born to blush unseen,
\nAnd waste its sweetness on the desert air.<\/p>\n
Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast
\nThe little tyrant of his fields withstood,
\nSome mute inglorious Milton, here may rest,
\nSome Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood.<\/p>\n
... .<\/p>\n
To look upon a child is simply to wonder what might become, just as Grey, in the churchyard, wondered what might have been had circumstances been different. \u00a0It is a humbling prospect.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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