Collection of four interesting and personal publications from the Collection of William Ralph Westropp-Roberts. Two of the four publications with long, handwritten/manuscript-narratives by Reverend William Ralph Westropp Roberts in the years 1899 and 1917. The information is mainly about the Family-History of the Westropp Roberts Family in Monkstown, Meadstown, Shanballymore (all County Cork). The Collection includes the following publications (see images also): 1. [Signed by Baron Spolasco] Narrative of the Wreck of the Steamer Killarney: With Interesting Details Not Yet Published Relative to the Sufferings of Those who Were Left Desolate Upon the Rock in Renny Bay, For the greater part of three days and two entire nights, without Food or shelter, exposed to the fury of a tempestuous sea, which constantly washed over them; accompanied by Mr. Hull’s description of the ingenious contrivance by which they were finally rescued. The Work is adorned by a beautiful & correct Lithographic Representation of the Rock and Surrounding Scenery to which is added, A Vignette Portrait of the Author and an Introductory Dedication to Lady Roberts. By Baron Spolasco, one of the surviving Sufferers. (Cork, Printed for F.Jackson, 1838). This is the actual association copy, given to Lady Roberts by Baron Spolasco and originating from the library of Lady Roberts, with printed dedication by Spolasco and also signed by him. With the Exlibris / Bookplate of W.R.Westropp-Roberts “Post Funera Virtus” / 2. John Swete – Family Prayers for each Morning and Evening in the Week with Prayers adapted to Various Occasions; And forms for Children and Young Persons. The Fourth Edition. London, 1822. Ownership signature of Jane Westropp on titlepage and lengthy story of the book and its owner by William Ralph Westropp Roberts: “This book belonged to my Grandmother Jane Westropp, wife of Ralph Westrop [sic] of Meadstown, Co.Cork & daughter of Hodder Roberts of Shanballymore, Co.Cork. It was given to me by my Cousin Nina Westropp. It contains my Mother’s signature W.Westropp (last page). WR Westropp Roberts, 1899” [The book also contains a drawing of the foundation of a House titled: “House in Fontainbleau” and a prayer-like wish in ink verso]. / 3. Musee Religieux – with several biblical illustrations. Inscribed to Willy Westrop [sic]: “Paris, 3 Juin, 1836 – B. Dambricourt a son amie Willy Westrop. Comm. faible gage de son sincere attachment” / 4. Burch, R.M. – Colour Printing and Colour Printers – With a Chapter on Modern Processes by W.Gamble. Second Edition. London, Sir Isaac Pitman and Sons, 1910. With the Exlibris / Bookplate of W.R.Westropp-Roberts “Post Funera Virtus”. [Strongly stained binding]. The work is adorned by a beautiful lithographic representation of the Rock and surrounding scenery. To which is added a vignette portrait of the author, and an introductory dedication to Lady Roberts. By Baron Spolasco, one of the surviving sufferers.
Original First Edition [Autographed / Signed / Inscribed Dedication copy]. Cork / London / Paris, 1838-1910. Octavo /Quarto. Pagination of the very rare Spolasco-Item: Portrait – Frontispiece of Spolasco, 72 pages including the lithograph of Renny Bay and several pages of statements advertising the cures and abilities of Baron Spolasco in which he was healing local irish people [excerpts from statements of cured people in local newspapers like the Limerick Star, Limerick Chronicle etc. are mentioned]. Two of the four publications are in their original bindings, two of them in contemporary, private bindings. Important: The very rare Spolasco-item also includes the printed dedication to Lady Roberts by Baron Spolasco which is additionally signed by Baron Spolasco in Crayon. Very good condition with some professional repairs to paper-corners. Small, minor damage to lower spine/frontcover. Bookplate of W.R.Westropp Roberts to pastedown. With a handwritten statement by WR Westropp Roberts to the front free endpaper: “″This copy of the Narrative of the wreck of the Steamer Killarney was presented by Baron Spolasco to Lady Roberts. In her efforts to aid the sufferers upon the rock she contracted a chill which proved fatal in the month of October of the year in which the wreck took place. The Parish Register of Tracton, Co. Cork contains, under the heading ‘Burials’, the following Entry: “b. Oct. 1838 Lady Elizabeth Caroline Roberts placed in this family vault at Ballyfoyle”. The book subsequently found its way into the hands of Messrs. Massey, Booksellers, Patrick Street, Cork, from whom I obtained it in the autumn of 1916. The Library Clerk had it bound for me in January 1917. WRWestropp Roberts’. Of utmost rarity !
Essay about Baron Spolasco by Caroline Rance – The Quack Doctor – [thequackdoctor] (mentioned here with her permission):
On 19 January 1838, the steamer Killarney set sail from Cork, bound for Bristol. On board were 37 people and 600 pigs, and ahead of them was the most violent storm in more than half a century. The steamer was forced to turn back, and anchored at Cove [Cobh] for a few hours, until the Captain made the ill-fated decision to continue. By the following evening, 21 survivors were clinging to a rock, fast losing hope of rescue. One of these survivors was Baron Spolasco (above), a flamboyant character who had been fraudulently practising as a physician and surgeon in different parts of Ireland. Though he looks rather exotic, he was probably born in the north of England in about 1800, and his real name appears in different sources as John Williams, John Smith, or the slightly more impressive John William Adolphus Frederick Augustus Smith. Spolasco did not specialise in particular ailments – he cured everything instantly.
On that fateful Friday in January 1838, Spolasco was off to Bristol to meet the agent of a ‘high personage’ about a complicated surgical case (or perhaps the people in Cork were starting to get wise to him). All his belongings were loaded onto the Killarney but he, his eight-year-old son Robert and their two Newfoundland dogs were five minutes late. They had almost resolved to wait for the next week’s boat, when some locals offered to row them out to the steamer.
During the course of that night and the next morning, the storm and the terrified pigs put the steamer in peril and it perished in Renny Bay. The poor Newfoundlands rapidly joined the choir invisible, but the Baron and Robert were among the 21 people who reached a rock 200 yards from shore. Though so close to land, there were no rescue attempts until the Sunday, by which time little Robert was among those who succumbed to the waves. In his Narrative of the Wreck of the Steamer Killarney, Spolasco later described his feelings about the death of his son:
‘I pause one moment to offer up my most fervent supplications to my God, to spare such of you my kind readers, as are fathers, and mothers; to spare you ever, from having to go through, to witness, to feel, to suffer, even a thousandth part of what I did for my dear, my sweet, my beautiful boy. Alas ! he is now no more, he is as still as the grave ! yes he is quiet—he moves not—he breathes not—he no longer enchants me as he was want to do, morning, noon and night, with his sweet prattling, his but too sensible conversation ! HE IS DEAD ! ! !’
The Narrative is a gripping read and, while melodramatic (in a good way) and self-aggrandising, the Baron’s story concurs in most details with other reports of the wreck.
The image below is from the Narrative, and though there’s no doubt a bit of artistic licence, it does emphasise just how near and yet so far the stranded people were from the land. They could see the locals making off with the dead pigs washed up on the beach, but they could do nothing to get themselves there alive.
’ We had not the good fortune to reach the top of the rock; we only got to between one and two yards of it and that part faced the sea. We had to hold on all night by our fingers and toes – something like being suspended by our hands and toes from the sill of a window in one of the upper stories of a house, and at every moment the tremendous and fearful billows lashing at our backs terribly, we were not able to rest ourselves even for a moment.’
Eventually they were spotted by some ‘respectable’ people who sent for a set of rescue apparatus, but this relied on getting a rope out to the rock, and attempts proved futile. The rescuers tried attaching ropes to ducks and setting them off across the waves, but only one duck made it, and the survivors couldn’t catch it. Next they tried using a howitzer to fire balls with ropes attached, but to no avail.
Then the chief coastguard’s brother, Edward Hull, had the idea of carrying a long rope round the bay so that it would stretch from one promontory to the other, with a second rope hanging down over the rock. The first attempt was late on Sunday afternoon and as darkness fell the rescuers almost left off, but in desperation two people grabbed the rope and shouted to be hauled in. According to the Baron:
…[the rescuers] immediately did so, upon which we heard a splash but could see nothing, it being at this time dark.
After this melancholy occurrence, the remaining survivors were abandoned to a second night without food, water or shelter. The next day, using the long rope and a basket, those on land were finally able to get the staples of life – wine, whiskey and bread – onto the rock. The Baron writes:
I cannot find words sufficiently strong to express how grateful the wine was to my parched lips. Each having partaken of this seasonable relief, we all huzza’d, and waved our hats and caps, in token of gratitude for what we had just had, and in the hope of being speedily relieved. The equipment had a cot designed to transport human beings, and by this method the 14 survivors were removed, one by one. First was the only woman, Mary Leary, but Baron Spolasco managed to be second in line and was taken to a nearby house. One of the others subsequently died of exhaustion.
Only a month later he wrote his Narrative, and used it as a way of increasing his fame and spreading the word about his medical practice. He went through with his plan of going to Bristol and started up with the same wild claims about miraculous cures. But his adventures had only just begun. (Source: Caroline Rance – The Quack Doctor)