In the early evening of April 8, 1824, Treen’s Logan Rock was dislodged from its pivot by Hugh Goldsmith and the crew of the HMS Nimble, dropping several feet on to a ledge. Once news of Goldsmith’s act of folly reached Penzance, it roused the sort of righteous indignation that only the strict application of Law 20.1.2 in cricket can today. Local worthy, Sir Richard Vyvyan of Trelowarren, vowed that he would “prosecute the delinquent with the utmost vigour” and once the Royal Cornwall Gazette had given the story due prominence, it was picked up by the national papers. Pressure was put on the Admiralty to restore the focal point of Treen’s tourism industry, something which many eminent engineers at the time thought could not be done.

Realising that he was in hot water and fearing for his safety, a contrite Goldsmith confided to his mother on April 24^th in a letter that he was taken aback by the reaction he had provoked. “I knew not”, he wrote, “that this rock was so idolised in this neighbourhood, and you may imagine my astonishment when I found all Penzance in an uproar. I was to be transported at least; the newspapers have traduced me, and made me worse than a murderer, and the base falsehoods in them are more than wicked”.

Nevertheless, whether bowing to pressure from the Admiralty or out of genuine contrition, he vowed to put “the bauble in its place again and hope[d] to get as much credit as I have anger for throwing it down”. He received the support of an eminent Cornish engineer and politician, Davies Gilbert of Tredrea in St Erth, who persuaded the Admiralty to provide all the equipment necessary for the attempt free of charge and pledged £25 towards the cost of labour and other expenses which Goldsmith, a man of relatively little wealth, was expected to meet.

After months of preparation, work began on October 29^th, 1824, and the Royal Cornwall Gazette reported that crowds of people watched the rock being carefully hoisted back up the cliff with the assistance of cranes, winches, and sheer muscle power. At around 4.20pm on November 2^nd a great cheer went up as the stone finally rested in its former position and was seen to rock. A correspondent was moved to remark that “it is but justice to Lieutenant Goldsmith to say that he evinced the greatest care and intrepidity in this difficult and dangerous undertaking, tho’ nothing can excuse his first act”.

Goldsmith, who remained in the Navy but was never promoted, was dogged by his escapade until his final days. He only finished paying off his share of the £130.8s.6d the restoration project cost, according to a receipt displayed in The Logan Rock public house in Treen, plus interest shortly before he died in 1841 at sea on the HMS Megaera off St Thomas in the West Indies.

To prevent a recurrence the rock was chained and padlocked and Treen, deprived of its monumental tourist attraction, was nicknamed Goldsmith’s Deserted Village. Even when the rock was eventually freed, it was not as mobile as it once was, although, according to local historian, Craig Weatherhill, a series of rhythmic heaves applied to the south-western corner of the rock will get it moving, after which the motion can be kept going with the use of one hand. The anchor holes used to haul the logan are still visible in the surrounding rocks.

Treen’s logan was not the only Cornish rocking stone to attract the attention of the military. In 1650 during the English civil war, Shrubshall, a roundhead commander at Pendennis, had the logan at the top of Men-Amber rock near the hamlet of Nancegollan toppled, suspecting it to be either the meeting point for Royalists or the venue for pagan rites. It was never restored. Of Cornwall’s other two significant logans, the one at Zennor, illustrated in 1858 a photograph entitled The Rocking Stone of Zennor, no longer rocks but, happily, the one on Bodmin Moor’s Louden Hill has so far evaded that fate.

Logan rocks are not confined to Cornwall. If you find one, do not do a Goldsmith!