If Walls Could Talk: The charismatic quack who bewitched Limerick

Variously described as a conman, quack doctor, fantasist and fraudster, the exotic sounding and colourful Baron Spolasco spent about eighteen months in Limerick from June 1836 when he set up his ‘medical’ practice in a large house in the Crescent.
His full name was Baron John William Adolphus Frederick Augustus Spolasco, M.D., M. R. C. S., K. O. M. T. C. L. D. He claimed to be of European nobility and promised to cure every ill known to man. Spolasco held surgeries in several locations throughout the country before leaving for Bristol in 1838 – his departure being more dramatic than his mysterious appearance in Limerick, a year and a half previously.
In about January 1836, notices first appeared in the Limerick press extolling the virtues of the ‘extraordinary talented Baron Spolasco who had cured many thousand sufferers in different towns and cities of ulcers and cures, previously considered incurable by other practitioners.’ The Baron had arrived! He set up his surgery up at no. 2, The Crescent and held clinics in Kilkee, Tralee, Cashel, Newcastle West and Clonmel.
He published testimonials from patients whom he had ‘cured’ of everything from ulcerated legs to cancer of the upper lip and nose. He even claimed to have carried out a successful skin graft and reconstructive surgery on ‘Patrick Sheahan, a farmer from Doonass, without a nose for nearly 20 years, who underwent surgery and was supplied with a perfectly formed one, from flesh taken from his forehead.’

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Reality, however, was soon to catch up with the good doctor and Spolasco’s immoral and dangerous claims were called out in the Waterford Mail on 3 March 1837 in a report entitled ‘A Quack’. It questioned his dubious claims and poked fun at his flamboyant behaviour in Limerick, ‘that celebrated character drives about that happy town in a splendid travelling chariot… this is a magnificent description and betokens a personage of high eminence, who or what is he?’ The report suggested that it might be the lord lieutenant or a member of the aristocracy, before naming Spolasco as a member of the illustrious Medici family! The writer claimed that Spolasco keeps a ‘museum of wooden crutches and limbs, the trophies of his [so-called] success.’ In a less than kind synopsis of Spolasco’s career, the report described him as a ‘quack and a fellow assuming an outlandish name… who works upon the credulity of the good people of Limerick who appear to have more money than brains. One hopes he does not come our way.’
The alleged origin of Spolasco was mentioned in April 1837 when he took a case against Mr Thomas Staunton of Tipperary for assault and forcible possession. Never one to miss an opportunity to impress, Spolasco entered the courtroom bedecked in a Spanish roquelaure (knee length coat) resplendent with long gold chains around his neck. The local newspapers noted ‘his tout ensemble created a marked sensation in the court.’ During Spolasco’s examination he was asked about his country of origin to which he replied ‘I am Polish and English… my father held a title which devolved to me… I was born in Warsaw.’ Staunton claimed that Spolasco introduced himself as the ‘prince of medicine, the emperor of physicians and the surgeons’ king.’ When asked about his qualifications, Spolasco was less than direct and did not provide an answer. The court found in favour of Staunton.
Running out of excuses and being openly branded a ‘quack’ by the press, Spolasco’s charade as a self-appointed eminent physician was coming to an end. He left Limerick for Cork in the hope that the locals would believe the medicinal benefits of his spurious cures including Vegetable Patent Pills and Balm of Spolasco. His stint in Cork was short-lived and realising that it was time to depart Ireland, Spolasco announced that his talents were required overseas and abruptly left the city aboard a ship bound for England.
Leaving Cork with his funds in place, the Baron headed to Bristol and made his way to Swansea. He set up a practice in the city and was initially successful, however, it also ended abruptly. He was charged with manslaughter following the death of a young female patient in 1839.

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Spolasco had prescribed a lethal dose of bogus medicine consisting of castor oil and turpentine to treat an intestinal ulcer. The case generated much commentary in the local and national press; the Gloucester Journal reported that ‘Baron Spolasco, a travelling empiric, has been committed to Cardiff jail, charged with the manslaughter of Susannah Thomas, aged 22, by administering injurious medicines.’ The Baron escaped conviction and after a few more brushes with the law, he departed Wales for New York in 1849.
When he landed in the city, he rented rooms in an upmarket hotel and set about establishing himself in the New World. However, despite some limited success, he was soon relegated to a less salubrious address and never gained the respectability which he craved. He died on June 7, 1858 and is buried in Brooklyn. Even in death, the press was not kind to Spolasco – on either side of the Atlantic. The Tralee Chronicle carried a report: ‘Baron Spolasco, a quack doctor, recently died in New York.
'He was of a grand appearance and frequently contrived to get a great many dupes, and to make a great deal of money. He often made his appearance in a carriage drawn by four horses, with postillions, hired to make a sensation; he was the pink of fashion in dress… a charade he engaged in… until he disappeared altogether.’
Baron John William Adolphus Frederick Augustus Spolasco was a master fraudster, charlatan, fantasist who peddled fake cures, stole from dying patients and invented a colourful past to mask his humble origins as plain old John Williams or John Smith from Gateshead. Surely, his life and times deserves a Netflix series.
Dr Paul O’Brien lectures at Mary Immaculate College.