The Islands of Ireland: Heather Island has an international literary pedigree
THE first words of James Joyce's masterpiece, Ulysses: “Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed.”
It is among the most famous opening lines of any novel, perhaps challenged by Charles Dickens's, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”, from A Tale of Two Cities, or "Call me Ishmael", from Hermann Melville's Moby Dick. The line provides a weighty connection to this week’s island.
Heather Island, in Tully Lough, very close to Renvyle, in Co Galway, appears as Heath Island on old ordnance survey maps, but over time became known as Heather Island. In Connemara, there are at least four Heather Islands, derived from the Irish 'fraoch' and 'oileán' and anglicised to Freaghillaun.
It is a revelatory word in defining the predominant vegetation thereabouts, though the Heather Island in this article is enveloped with deciduous trees. Despite its small size (1km by 300m), Tully Lough contains several other islands, mere scraps of land: Apple; Wood great and small; Sally, Bush, Green (x2), Heath.
Observed from the the Connemara Loop Road above the lake, the island seems like any other wooded island in a lake. Perhaps something nestles among the green canopy?
This island was the inspiration for Joan McBreen’s 2009 poetry collection, simply called Heather Island. Her ‘Montbretia on the High Road, Renvyle’ captures the indefinable charm of the place: "Familiar as the curves on the road/and Tully mountain in the kind of light/only this landscape knows.”
Joyce’s earthy character Buck Mulligan was based on his friend, the writer Oliver St John Gogarty, who once owned Heather Island and the house on it, to boot. He famously paid the rent for Joyce’s martello tower in Sandycove, Dublin, to enable Joyce to finish his great work.
St John Gogarty was an immense character in Dublin life and a bon viveur, who satirised the worst aspects of society. He excelled at soccer and represented Bohemians FC and was also a handy cyclist. He practised as a surgeon and, with his wife, Martha Duane, had three children. She came from Connemara and opened the door to that part of the country for the enchanted Oliver.
In addition to his highly regarded literary career, he later served as a senator in the early years of the Free State. His daring exploits included escaping from anti-Treaty forces by swimming across the River Liffey, after a price had been put on senators serving in the Oireachtas.
Having purchased Renvyle House in 1917, St John Gogarty was surprised to discover that the mansion came with an adjoining property, namely the house and the island. The house is at odds with the vernacular architecture, but its Spanish colonial style, with timbered verandahs, is obscured by the trees.
St John Gogarty moved in the vanguard of literary circles in Dublin and his friends included WB Yeats and George Moore, both of whom visited St John Gogarty on Heather Island. He emigrated to the US after becoming disillusioned with Irish politics. To him, "de Valera was a cross between a cormorant and a corpse". A later visitor to the house was James Bond creator, Ian Fleming.
While Renvyle House was burnt to the ground by anti-Treatyites in 1923, the house on Heather Island survived the war. Renvyle House was rebuilt soon afterwards and later opened as a hotel, which is still in operation. St John Gogarty died in 1957 and is buried at Cartron Church, Moyard, near Renvyle. He was described by Yeats as “one of the great lyric poets of the age”.
He evocatively captured what the wildness of Connemara meant to him: “Were it not for the clouds of the Atlantic that bring in the rain, I would never leave Renvyle, with its glimmering islands and its assured faith in wonders of the deep.”
Heather Island is privately owned. Can be seen from the Connemara Loop Road, 5km northwest of Letterfrack.
As I Was Going Down Sackville Street, Oliver St John Gogarty, O’Brien Press; Ulysse James Joyce, Penguin; Heather Island, Joan McBreen, Salmon Poetry; www.renvyle.com
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