The Light-House

Jan. 1 — 1849. This day — my first on the light-house — I make this entry in my Diary, as agreed on with Reynolds. As regularly as I can keep the journal, I will — but there is no telling what may happen to a man all alone as I am — I may get sick, or worse ..... So far well! I had a narrow escape — but why dwell on that, since I am here, all safe? My spirits are beginning to revive already, at the mere thought of being — for once in my life at least — thoroughly alone; for, of course, Neptune, large as he is, is not to be taken into consideration as “society”. Would to Heaven I had ever found in “society” one half as much faith as in this poor dog: — in such case I and “society” might never have parted — even for the year, or years...

Jan. 1. Reynolds promised to visit, which sends angst through my chest. I am glad he is not accompanying me. I never should have made any way with my book as long as he was within reach, with his intolerable smile which hides a truly ghastly nature — not to mention that everlasting rouge pipe that stinks of carrion. Besides, I wish to be alone ...... It is strange that I never observed, until this moment, how dreary a sound that word has — “alone”! I could half fancy there was some peculiarity in the echo of these cylindrical walls — but oh, no! — this is all nonsense. I do believe I am going to get nervous about my insulation. That will never do. I have not forgotten Reynold’s contract, signed in blood. Now for a scramble to the lantern and a good look around to “see what I can see” ................ To see what I can see indeed! — not very much. Would that I had brought a pet, that would have made a fine — silent — companion. I have written nothing of my story of the house made of light. It is still the first day — why worry?

Jan. 1. I have passed this day in a species of ecstasy that I find it impossible to describe. My passion for solitude could scarcely have been more thoroughly gratified. I do not say satisfied; for I believe I should never be satiated with such delight as I have experienced to-day ......... The wind lulled about day-break, and by the afternoon the sea had gone down materially ..... Gratefully, there was no glimpse at my lost love today. I have started and stopped several times. Nothing to be seen, with the telescope even, but ocean and sky, with an occasional gull. Yet wherever I set my eyes, I fear that ghastly Court. I saw a mutt today, just beyond the fallen fence, much injured and aged. I know full well the reason, but still I am full of sadness.

Jan. 1. A dead calm all day. No progress with my quill though the ink never depletes. Towards evening, the sea looked very much like ichor. A few sea-weeds came in sight; but besides them absolutely nothing all day — not even the slightest speck of cloud. ....... Occupied myself in exploring this light-house — not the true one, thank god… It is lofty — as I find to my cost when I have to ascend its interminable stairs — not quite 160 feet, I should say, from the low-water mark to the top of the lantern. From the bottom inside the shaft, however, the distance to the summit is — but what am I thinking about? I came to this place, I bargained for health and solitude TO WRITE. Calm, Edgar, I should feel myself secure. It is only the first day! I will write out tomorrow’s date in advance and make a proper start in the morning. If I had a dog, I’d call him Neptune. To watch the sea together. Jan. 1.