The foundling hospital - Coram boy

As part of the Bloomsbury Festival 2022, the writers' organisation '26' participated in a project called '26 orphans' in conjunction with the Foundling Museum in Coram Fields, London. 

They also ran a writing workshop I wanted to attend. 

In conversation about this with a friend, he told me a remarkable story about the foundling boy, a painting commissioned by the Foundling Hospital in 1919.

My friend's grandfather was a foundling, John O'Connor, who was chosen to pose for the painting of the founding boy in 1919, a commission intended to showcase the work of the institution. Two children were chosen for the portraits as 'mascots'. 

John O'Connor was sent to Meltham, West Yorkshire at 14 years old as a painter and decorator's apprentice. A representative of The Foundling Hospital would visit the children regularly for a welfare report. The person who visited John O'Connor changed over the years but a constant visitor was a rather smart, dapper and attentive gentleman who was or had been a policeman.

He maintained a relationship with John O'Connor even after John married. This man visited John, his wife Kathleen, and their children regularly. John O'Connor never asked, although he suspected that this man might be his father.

One day while the visitor had a child on his knee, Kathleen asked the question. There was no answer.

But after that, he never visited again.

Years later, the couples adult children became interested in the story that they'd been told on their mother's deathbed and did some investigation. 

What they uncovered was that in fact, this was the father of John O'Connor. DNA tests revealed that he was Henry G who had fought in the First World War and in the Boer War. He was married at the time of John O'Connor's birth. John's mother Annie T was in service. Henry's children's families are now in Australia and Spain and the family have been able to trace the descendants of John O'Connor's mother Annie too.

The workshop. 

We were asked to think of an orphan and then to free write for a few minutes - I chose to write about this story but to make the father, Henry the focus. Part fact, part fiction.

The prompt was 'When I think of you...'

When I think of you I wonder what kind of a man you were. A policeman, a soldier I know, married, young maybe. I can ascribe benign motivations to you since you sought out your child as he grew and clearly cared. But what of his mother, and your wife? As I write I imagine the trauma of a dalliance or even falling in love as a married man and perhaps you never knew about the pregnancy. Or you did and at the time there was no way out of what would've been a disaster for you both.

You did after all, once you knew about the child, insert yourself into his life, long after your obligation as his mentor or sponsor had passed, when he had a wife and children of his own. I wonder why, once confronted, you never visited again? It could be you died. It seems you were an emotional man who cared about your child and his children. How long did you know and how long did you wait to find him?

Next we were asked to write a letter, and a reply. 

Dear Harry, 

Mary-Jane seen you last Monday outside the nick. It's been 10 years now, you must be glad I went off, what with your wife and kids to care for.

I went back home for a while to my mam, but there's something you should know. I went back to have a baby, a baby boy. I never said because I knew it was no good and gave him up. 

He went to Coram, they could give him a chance and I could not, nor you neither. I see him sometimes in the park on Sunday, he looks like you. 

yours Annie

...

Dear Annie,

Your letter moved me to reply.

I wondered what had become of you, I looked for awhile but no one knew, which is probably for the best. Thank you for the information. Please tell no one else of this, for both our sakes 

H

...

I also wrote a letter from Henry to John and his wife Kathleen, to explain why he disappeared after the question was asked.

...

Dear John, 

I owe you and Kathleen an explanation after my departure last Thursday.

Her question took me by surprise. I have known you these last 10 years and as a quorum inspector have been impressed by your work ethic and have enjoyed watching your family grow. The truth is you remind me of a son I never knew. I do not want to intrude further into your life, so if I get no reply to this letter, I will trouble you no longer 

your sincerely

Serjent Henry G

...

Here's the final sestude I wrote (a reflective study using exactly 62 words) 

He owed them an explanation

but could not admit the truth even now
She'd asked if this was his grandson 

The visits had continued long after his duty was done

'You remind me of a son I never knew' he wrote 

'I was impressed, as your mentor, by your work ethic 

and have enjoyed watching your family grow' 

He never came again