Part 3

"On April 8, 1824," says the _Gentleman's Magazine_, "a party of sailors belonging to H.M. cutter _Nimble_, commanded by Lieut. Goldsmith, came on shore for the purpose of removing from its situation that great curiosity the Logging (rocking) Stone; and which object they were unfortunately enabled to accomplish. This mass of granite, which is nearly 100 tons weight, was one of the three objects that excited the curiosity of every visitor to the west part of Cornwall. It stood on the summit of a mass of rocks at the Land's End, and was so poised on a natural pivot, that the force which a man could exert was sufficient to cause it to vibrate. In this situation it remained from a period anterior to our authentic records, as it is noticed by our earliest writers, until the _barbarian_ above mentioned, in sheer wantonness, removed it from its place. This act of vandalism has excited the greatest indignation at Penzance, as it will in every part of Cornwall, and throughout the kingdom. It appears that Lieut. Goldsmith landed at the head of fourteen of his men, and with the assistance of handspikes and a handscrew, called by the sailors jack-in-the-box, with much labour and perseverance threw over the stone. What renders the act most atrocious is, that two poor families, who derived a subsistence from attending visitors to the stone, are now deprived of the means of support."

It was found that the handspikes and jack were of no avail. Accordingly Goldsmith made his fourteen men put their shoulders to the stone and bring it into such violent oscillation that at last it toppled over.

The Logan Stone, thus displaced, would have rolled down from the tor on which it had rested and have shot into the sea, had it not happily been arrested by a cleft in the rock.

The indignation of the people was great, so that the life of Lieut. Goldsmith was threatened by the sturdy fishermen, should he land. But the desire to land was taken from him, for the whole county was roused, and a gathering of the magistrates was summoned to consider what could be done, and to memorialize the Admiralty against the perpetrator of this wanton act of mischief.

Happily Mr. Davies Gilbert was at the time in London, and he at once proceeded to the Admiralty and complained of the vandalism perpetrated, and requested that the lieutenant should be ordered to replace the block as found, and that the proper apparatus, capstan, blocks, chains, etc., should be furnished by the dockyard at Devonport.

This was undertaken, and orders were despatched to Lieut. Goldsmith that he must either restore the Logan Rock to its old position, at his own cost, or forfeit his commission. As the expense would be wholly beyond his means, Mr. Davies Gilbert very liberally subscribed £150 for the purpose.

A writer, Lieut. L. Edye, in the _Western Antiquary_ for 1887, says: "In his trouble he appealed to my grandfather (Mr. William Edye) for advice and assistance, stating that the Admiralty had called upon him either to replace the stone or forfeit his commission. My grandfather, ever ready to render assistance to any one in trouble, readily assisted, and having travelled into Cornwall (as a friend) and seen the damage done, applied to the Admiralty for the loan of plant and men. Their Lordships complied with the request, but stipulated that the cost must be entirely defrayed by Lieut. Goldsmith."

We will now see what Goldsmith had to say for himself. The following is an extract from a letter written by him to his mother, dated April 24th, 1824:--

"The facts in question, my dear mother, are these: On the 8th of this month we were off the Land's End, near the spot where the Rock stood. Our boats were creeping along shore beneath it for some goods which, we suspected, might be sunk in the sands near it. I took the opportunity of landing to look at the Logan Rock with my mate; and hearing that it was not in the power of men to remove it, I took it into my head to try my skill, and, at this time (half-past four o'clock p.m.), the boats having finished what they had to do, and it blowing too fresh for them to creep any longer, I took them and their crew with me, and, having landed at the foot of the rocks, we all scrambled up the precipice. We had with us, at first, three handspikes, with which we tried to move the Rock, but could not do it." By move the rock he really means--displace it. A child could move it on its pivot. "The handspikes were then laid aside, and the nine men who were with me took hold of the Rock by the edge, and with great difficulty set it in a rocking motion, which became so great, that I was fearful of bidding them try to stop it lest it should fall back upon us, and away it went unfortunately, clean over upon its side, where it now rests. There was not an instrument of any kind or description near the Rock when thrown over, except one handspike, and that I held in my hand, but which was of no use in upsetting the Rock; and this is the truth, and nothing but the truth, as I hope for salvation.

"For my part, I had no intention, or the most distant thought, of doing mischief, even had I thrown the Rock into the sea. I was innocently, as my God knows, employed, as far as any bad design about me. I knew not that the Rock was so idolized 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. But here I am, my dear mother, still holding up my head, boldly conscious of having only committed an act of inadvertency. Be not uneasy--my character is yet safe; and you have nothing on that score to make you uneasy. I have many friends in Penzance: among them the persons most interested in the Rock, and many who were most violent now see the thing in its true light. I intend putting the bauble in its place again, and hope to get as much credit as I have anger for throwing it down."[1]

The letter is disingenuous, and is the composition of a man impudent and conceited. He knew the estimation in which the Logan Rock was held, and it was because Borlase had pronounced it impossible of displacement that he resolved to displace it. He pretends that he tried to "move" it, whereas from the context it is clear that he intended to throw it down, and for this purpose had brought the handspikes. He boasts vaingloriously of his intention of replacing it and gaining glory thereby, and never says a word about his having been given by the Admiralty the alternative of doing that or losing his commission. Nor does he mention the generous help he received from Mr. Gilbert and his kinsman Mr. Edye.

On November 2nd, in the presence of vast crowds, ladies waving their handkerchiefs, and men firing _feux de joie_, the block was raised, Mr. Goldsmith, his natural conceit overcoming his sense of vexation, superintending the operation. But, although replaced, it was no longer so perfectly balanced as before. As one wrote who was present at the time, "it rocked differently, though well enough to satisfy the people."

An account of the feat, written in the true style of the penny-a-liner, appeared in the _Royal Cornwall Gazette_ of the 6th November:--

"The Logan Rock is in its place, and _logs_ again. Lieut. Goldsmith has nobly repaired the error of a moment by a long trial of skill and energy and courage. I say courage, for it was a work of great peril; and wherever danger was, there he was always foremost--under the weight of the mass of machinery, and on the edge of the precipice.... I shall content myself with barely observing, as a proof of the skill of applying the complicated machinery employed, that many engineers had their doubts whether it could be so applied, and even when erected, they doubted whether it would be efficient.

"The moment, therefore (on Friday last), when the men took their stations at the capstans was an anxious one, and when, after twenty minutes' toil, Lieut. Goldsmith announced from the stage, 'It moves, thank God!' a shout of applause burst from all who beheld it. Endeavour to conceive a group of rocks of the most grand and romantic appearance, forming an amphitheatre, with multitudes seated on the irregular masses, or clinging to its precipices: conceive a huge platform carried across an abyss from rock to rock, and upon it three capstans manned by British seamen. Imagine the lofty masts which are seen rearing their heads, from which ropes are connected with chains in many a fold and of massive strength. A flag waves over all: the huge stone is in the midst. Every eye is directed to the monstrous bulk. Will it break its chains? Will it fall and spread ruin? Or will it defy the power that attempts to stir it? Will all the skill and energy, and strength and hardihood, have been exerted in vain? We shall soon know: expectation sits breathless; and at last it moves.

"All's well. Such was the first half-hour. In two hours it was suspended in the air, and vibrated; but art was triumphant, and held the huge leviathan fast.

"I will not detail the labour of two successive days; but come to the last moment. At twenty minutes past four on Tuesday afternoon a signal was given that the rock was in its place and that it logged again. This was announced by a spectator. But where was Lieut. Goldsmith? Why does not he announce it? He has called his men around him: his own and their hats are off: he is addressing them first, and calling upon them to return thanks to God, through whose aid alone the work had been done--a work of great peril and hazard--and by His blessing without loss of life or limb.

"After this appropriate and solemn act, he called upon them to join in the British sailors' testimony of joy, three cheers; and then turned with all his gallant men to receive the re-echoing cheers of the assembled multitude. That Lieut. Goldsmith, whose character--like the rock--is replaced on a firm basis, may have an opportunity of exerting his great talents and brave spirit in the service of his profession, is the sincere wish of all this neighbourhood."

Lieut. L. Edye, in his communication to the _Western Antiquary_ above quoted, says: "The result of this foolhardy act was that Lieut. Goldsmith was pecuniarily ruined, whilst the natives of the locality reaped a rich harvest by pointing out the fallen stone to visitors."

The Cornish are a forgiving people, and it was actually proposed after the re-erection of the stone to give to Lieut. Goldsmith a dinner and a silver cup.

Lieut. Hugh Colvill Goldsmith had been born at St. Andrew's, New Brunswick, 2nd April, 1789, so that he was aged thirty-five when he performed this prank. He died at sea off S. Thomas, in the West Indies, 8th October, 1841, without having obtained advancement.

FOOTNOTE:

[1] The letter is given in _Household Words_, 1852, p. 234.

HUGH PETERS, THE REGICIDE

The life and character of this man present unusual difficulties. On one side he was unduly lauded, he was represented, especially by himself, as a paragon of all virtues; on the other he was decried with virulence, his past life raked over, and every scandal brought to the surface and exposed to public view, and we cannot be at all sure that all these scandals laid to his charge were true.

We do not know much about his origin, and why he was named Peters; he was the son of a Thomas Dickwood, _alias_ Peters, and Martha, daughter of John Treffry of Treffry. This Dickwood, _alias_ Peters, is said to have been a merchant of Fowey, descended from Dutch ancestors who had escaped from Antwerp for their adherence to the Reformed religion; and Hugh Peters was born in 1599. But Dickwood is not a Flemish or Dutch name. Henry Peters, M.P. for Fowey, who died in 1619, married Deborah, daughter of John Treffry of Place, in 1610, and had one son, Thomas, who was thrown into prison by Cromwell for his loyalty to King Charles. Neither Hugh Peters nor his father with the _alias_ appears in the well-authenticated pedigree of the family of Peters of Harlyn. It may be suspected that the father of Hugh Peters was a bastard of one of the Peters family.

Be that as it may, Hugh Peters was sent to Trinity College, Cambridge, at the age of fourteen--his elder brother at the time was a student at Oxford--and he took his degree of B.A. in 1616. For a time he led a rather wild life and joined a party of comedians. Dr. William Yonge says that "he joined a common society of players: when, after venting his frothy inventions, he had a greater call to a higher promotion, namely, to be a jester, or rather a fool, in Shakespeare's Company of Players." Shakespeare died in 1616, so this must have been his company continuing to bear his name. He, however, became converted by a sermon he heard at S. Faith's, and "deserted his companions and employments, and returning to his chamber near Fleet Conduit, continued between hope and despair a year or more."

He was ordained deacon 23rd December, 1621, and priest 8th June, 1623, by Mountain, Bishop of London, and took his M.A. degree in 1622. He was licensed to preach at S. Sepulchre's. He says of himself:--

"To Sepulchre's I was brought by a very strange providence; for preaching before at another place, and a young man receiving some good, would not be satisfied, but I must preach at Sepulchre's, once monthly, for the good of his friends, in which he got his end (if I might not show vanity), and he allowed thirty pounds per _ann._ to that lecture, but his person unknown to me. He was a chandler, and died a good man, and Member of Parliament. At this lecture the resort grew so great, that it contracted envy and anger; though I believe above a hundred every week were persuaded from sin to Christ; there were six or seven thousand hearers, and the circumstances fit for such good work."

How six or seven thousand persons could be got into St. Sepulchre's Church passes one's comprehension. According to his own account, he got into trouble through Nonconformity. Ludlow, in his _Memoirs_, says that Peters "had been a minister in England for many years, till he was forced to leave his native country by the persecution set on foot, in the time of Archbishop Laud, against all those who refused to comply with the innovations and superstitions which were then introduced into the public worship."

There is, however, another and less creditable explanation. He is said to have become entangled in an intrigue with a butcher's wife. But how far this is true, and whether it be malicious scandal, we have no means of judging.

He had, however, married the widow of Edmund Read, of Wickford, Essex, and mother of Colonel Thomas Read, afterwards Governor of Stirling, and a partisan of Monk at the Restoration. Mrs. Edmund Read also had a daughter, Elizabeth, who in 1635 married the younger Winthrop, Governor of Connecticut.

From London Peters went to Rotterdam, where, if Yonge may be trusted, he paid such court to and attempted such familiarities with a Mrs. Franklyn, that she complained to her husband, whereupon Mr. Franklyn "entertains Peters with crab-tree sauce."

At Rotterdam he became preacher in the English chapel. What had become of his wife, whether she remained in England or accompanied him to Holland, we are not informed.

It will be well here to say a few words on the condition of religion in England at the time.

The plan of Henry VIII had been to make the Church of England independent of the Pope, but to remain Catholic. At his death the Protector and the Duke of Northumberland, after the fall of Somerset, had encouraged the ultra-Protestants. The churches had been plundered, chantries and colleges robbed, the Mass interdicted, and the wildest fanaticism encouraged. As Froude says: "Three-quarters of the English people were Catholics; that is, they were attached to the hereditary and traditionary doctrines of the Church. They detested, as cordially as the Protestants, the interference of a foreign power, whether secular or spiritual, with English liberty."

A more disgraceful page of history has never been written than that regarding the two protectorates during the minority of Edward VI. The currency was debased, peculation was rife. "Amidst the wreck of ancient institutions," says Froude, "the misery of the people, and the moral and social anarchy by which the nation was disintegrated, thoughtful persons in England could not fail to be asking themselves what they had gained by the Reformation.

"The movement commenced by Henry VIII, judged by its present results, had brought the country at last into the hands of mere adventurers. The people had exchanged a superstition which, in its grossest abuses, prescribed some shadow of respect for obedience, for a superstition which merged obedience in speculative belief; and under that baneful influence, not only the higher virtues of self-sacrifice, but the commonest duties of probity and morality, were disappearing. Private life was infected with impurity to which the licentiousness of the Catholic clergy appeared like innocence. The Government was corrupt, the courts of law were venal. The trading classes cared only to grow rich. The multitude were mutineers from oppression.... The better order of commonplace men, who had a conscience, but no special depth of insight--who had small sense of spiritual things, but a strong perception of human rascality--looked on in a stern and growing indignation, and, judging the tree by its fruits, waited their opportunity for action."

When Mary came to the throne there was an immense outburst of enthusiasm, the time of the Protestant protectorates was looked back on as a bad dream. In spite of the fact that England was under an interdict, the Mass was restored, and no rector or vicar cared a straw for the Papal bull, nor indeed did Mary, who heard Mass in the chapel of the Tower, and afterwards in S. Paul's.

If Mary had only accepted the advice tendered to her by Charles V, she would have reigned as a popular monarch, and have settled the condition of the Church of England on lines that commended themselves to nobles, commons, and clergy alike, Catholic but not Papal. But she had looked too long to the see of Peter as her support, and she managed completely to alienate the affections of her people. The fires of Smithfield brought the fanatics who had been discredited in the former reign into favour once more; and when Elizabeth came to the throne, and had been deposed by Pope Pius V, and her subjects released from allegiance to her, and plots formed for her assassination, under favour of the Pope, the religious sentiment in England was cleft as with a hatchet--some who loved the religion of their fathers were constrained against their will and consciences to become Papists, and others became wild and reckless fanatics in a Puritan direction. Between these two parties sat the vast bulk of the English people, looking this way, that way, and deeming all religion foolishness, and self-interest the only thing to be sought after. All the foundations of the religious world were out of course. The _via media_ is all very well in theory and when well trodden, but when it is experimental, and one road to the right leads to Rome and that to the left to Geneva, the _via media_ may be taken to lead nowhere, and those who tread it have to do so uncertainly. A session between two stools is precarious, and the Church of England had been forced by the folly of Mary to adopt this position. The consequence was that in the reigns of Elizabeth and James and Charles I there was no enthusiasm in the clergy of the Church. The bishops were grasping, self-seeking worldlings. Matthew Parker, Archbishop of Canterbury, was the best among an ignoble crew. When he died, says Froude, "he left behind him enormous wealth, which had been accumulated, as is proved from a statement in the handwriting of his successor, by the same unscrupulous practices which had brought about the first revolt against the Church. No Catholic prelate in the old easy times had so flagrantly abused the dispensation system. Every year he made profits by admitting children to the cure of souls, for money. He used a graduated scale in which the price for inducting an infant into a benefice varied with the age, children under fourteen not being inadmissible, if the adequate fees were forthcoming."[2]

The great majority of the nobility and gentry of England clung to the doctrine and ceremonies of the ancient Church, and yet were united in determination to oppose the Papal claims. Benefices in their presentation were held by priests who said the Communion Service, which was but the Mass in English, with the ancient vestments and ritual; and others, next door, were held by men who could hardly be compelled to wear even the surplice, and who celebrated the Eucharist but once in the year.

The Church was a hodgepodge of conflicting doctrines and ceremonial. As Froude says:--

"So long as a single turn of the wheel, a violent revolution, or the Queen's death, might place a Catholic (Papist) on the throne, the Established Church held a merely conditional existence. It had no root in the nation, for every earnest man who was not a Puritan was a Catholic; and its officers, for the most part, regarded their tenures as an opportunity for enriching themselves, which would probably be short, and should in prudence be made use of while it remained. Benefices were appropriated to laymen, sold, or accumulated upon favourites. Churches in many places were left unserved, and cobblers and tailors were voted by the congregations into the pulpits. 'The bishops,' said Cecil, 'had no credit either for learning, good living, or hospitality.' The Archbishop of York had scandalized his province by being found in bed with the wife of an innkeeper at Doncaster. Other prelates had bestowed ordination 'on men of lewd life and corrupt behaviour.' The Bishop of Lichfield had made seventy 'lewd and unlearned ministers, for money,' in one day."[3]

Bishop Barlow, of S. David's, had torn the lead roof off his palace and the castle at Lawhadden to provide dowers for his daughters, and would have unroofed his cathedral had he not been prevented by Elizabeth, because in it was the monument of Edmund, Earl of Richmond, the father of Henry VII. When translated to Bath and Wells he destroyed the lady chapel, the finest Perpendicular building in the West of England, surpassing even Sherborne and Bath, and sold it--lead, roof, stones, and all. Some of the clergy were mere temporizers, without convictions, taking their colour from their patrons, and ready to believe or pretend to believe this or that, as suited their pockets. The majority were indifferent--ignorant--not knowing where they stood. Many had thrust their way into Holy Orders for the sake of the loaves and fishes that might be obtained in the Established Church, with no work to do, without education, without zeal, without convictions, and consequently totally without the least enthusiasm, without any fixed principles.