St. Levan exceeds perhaps every other parish in the whole county for bold and romantic scenery.
First it possesses Trereen Dinas.
This magnificent promontory has towards the land one of those ancient entrenchments which so much distinguish the western coast, from whence the word dinas. There the point runs out into the sea, rising into a succession of natural granite towers in spires, and aiguilles, and the first presenting a perpendicular front, is crowned with the far-famed Loging Rock.
Without calling in question the religious uses made of this stone in rude and barbarous times, it may be declared as a certainty to be entirely natural. Among the thousands of rocks lying scattered in all directions, some possessing a convex surface have accidentally rested on the flat surface of another. Many such rocks are known, but this one transcends in size, and occupies a most commanding station. The rock has been measured with the greatest care, and it is
believed to weigh about ninety tons, yet any one, by applying his shoulder to the edge, and favouring the vibrations, can easily cause the stone to log through a very sensible angle.
Doctor Borlase, in his most learned and ingenious speculations on the religion and policy of the Druids, paid considerable attention to rock monuments in general, and especially to this, the most remarkable of all. In p. 180 of the Antiquities, second edition, Doctor Borlase says, “In the parish of St. Levan, Cornwall, there is a promontory called Castle Treryn. This cape consists of three distinct groupes of rocks. On the western side of the middle groupe, near the top, lies a very large stone, so evenly poised, that any hand may move it to or fro; but the extremities of its base are at such a distance from each other, and so well secured by their nearness to the stone which it stretches itself upon, that it is morally impossible that any lever, or indeed force (however applied in a mechanical way) can remove it from its present situation.”
This rather over-strong expression piqued the vanity of a gallant and intrepid officer, commanding an armed vessel on the coast, in 1824, who maintained that nothing could be impossible to the courage and skill of British seamen, and therefore, attended by ten or twelve of his men, Lieutenant Goldsmith, nephew of the celebrated novelist and poet (for it would even be unjust to withhold his name, as connected with a transaction on the whole redounding to his credit), went on the eighth of April to the rock, and there, by a continued application of their united strength, they threw this huge mass into vibrations of such extent as to cause the convex surface at last to slide from its horizontal base, most fortunately in the direction opposite to that in which they stood. The rock was saved from falling to the ground, and from thence probably into the sea, by a narrow chasm which caught it in the descent.
Mr. Goldsmith having thus achieved what had been declared impossible by the highest authority that Cornwall could produce, must have congratuled himself on such complete
success; but the sensations of all the neighbourhood were entirely at variance from those of the gallant officer; fears were even entertained for his life; and a meeting of the Magistrates and principal persons was contemplated, for the purpose of representing the affair to Government: but the Editor of this work being then in London, and having the honour of being known to all the Lords of the Admiralty, he went there, and representing the exploit that had been performed in the light of an indiscreet frolic, he proposed that the Admiralty should lend a proper apparatus, and send it from Plymouth, while he on his part would endeavour to raise an adequate sum of money; and that Lieutenant Goldsmith, having thrown down this natural curiosity, should superintend the putting it up again. The terms were accepted, and thirteen capstans, with blocks, chains, &c. were sent from the dock-yard.
The Editor having commenced a contribution of money with twenty-five pounds, raised it to a hundred and fifty; and on the 2d of November, in the presence of thousands, amidst ladies waving their handkerchiefs, men firing feux-de-joye, and universal shouts, Mr. Goldsmith had the satisfaction and the glory of replacing this immense rock in its natural position, uninjured in its discriminating properties.