Imagine ringing in the New Year, not with champagne and fireworks, but… inside a dinosaur! Sounds like something out of a movie, right? But believe it or not, this actually happened back in 1853. Prepare to be amazed by a story of science, spectacle, and a very unusual dinner party.
A Dinner Party Unlike Any Other
On a chilly New Year's Eve, twenty-one men gathered for a truly unique celebration. The invitation specified the location as "in the mould of the Iguanodon at the Crystal Palace." Yes, you read that correctly – they were dining inside a life-sized model of a dinosaur! The mastermind behind this bizarre yet brilliant event? Benjamin Waterhouse Hawkins, a natural history artist with a flair for the dramatic.
Among the distinguished guests were some of the leading scientific minds of the time. Richard Owen, the very man who coined the term "dinosaur," was there. Edward Forbes, a renowned naturalist specializing in British starfish, also attended. Rounding out the guest list were John Gould, an ornithologist and illustrator, and Joseph Prestwich, a geologist considered a pioneer of modern scientific archaeology. What a guest list!
Hawkins's goal was simple: to generate buzz around his dinosaur sculptures and entice visitors to the newly relocated Crystal Palace and its surrounding park. He extended invitations to reporters and local dignitaries, understanding the power of publicity.
Bringing Dinosaurs to Life
Benjamin Waterhouse Hawkins was driven by a grand vision: to breathe life into the "dry bones or oddly shaped stones" housed in the British Museum. He wanted to make the emerging field of palaeontology accessible to the masses. His mission, as he envisioned it, was to reconstruct these long-extinct animals and make them as familiar to the public as any other creature.
And this is the part most people miss: This wasn't just science; it was showmanship. Hawkins knew how to capture the public's imagination. He invited Herbert Ingram, publisher of the Illustrated London News, a widely circulated paper with over 150,000 readers. Ingram's publication would feature a detailed report of the evening, complete with a large illustration, guaranteeing widespread attention.
Dining Inside a Dinosaur
Despite the frigid weather, the invited guests arrived at a large warehouse dressed in formal attire. Inside, they were greeted by a collection of Hawkins's sculpted creatures, with the Iguanodon model serving as the evening's dining room. To reach the table inside the massive dinosaur, the men had to climb a flight of stairs and clamber onto a platform. A large tent was erected above them to shield them from the wind, and a chandelier provided light.
Banners adorned the space, paying homage to pioneering palaeontologists such as Georges Cuvier, Gideon Mantell, William Conybeare, and William Buckland. These names might have also served as conversation starters... or fodder for gossip.
But here's where it gets controversial... Mantell had died the previous winter from an opium overdose, fueling speculation about whether it was intentional. Buckland, known for his eccentric eating habits (including mice on toast!), was showing signs of what is now believed to be senile dementia. Imagine the whispered conversations amidst the scientific revelry! What do you think, was it appropriate to potentially gossip about such serious matters at a celebratory event?
Richard Owen, as the man who named the Dinosauria, was given the seat of honor inside the dinosaur's head. According to Hawkins, a musician's singing added to the evening's enjoyment. Around midnight, Owen proposed toasts and Forbes recited a long poem. The Crystal Palace guidebook reported that the men became so enthusiastic during Forbes's recitation that they sounded like a herd of bellowing iguanodons. Forbes himself called the event "a good wind-up for a geologist's year."
A Feast Fit for… Dinosaurs?
The seven-course menu was a lavish affair, featuring soups, fish, roasted meats, entrees, game, sweets, and a variety of desserts. Each course was served by a team of liveried servants. The wine selection included Sherry, Madeira, Port, Moselle, and Claret. It was a true Victorian feast!
The Aftermath: A Publicity Triumph
The Illustrated London News described the dinner as "luxurious and elegantly served" and the Iguanodon as having a "socially-loaded stomach, so practicably and easily filled." The article praised Hawkins's models for making the science of palaeontology accessible to the public. The report concluded by noting that the philosophers returned to London "evidently well pleased with the modern hospitality of the iguanodon, whose ancient sides there is no reason to suppose had ever before been shaken with philosophic mirth."
Even the satirical magazine Punch chimed in, commenting, "We congratulate the company on the era in which they live; for if it had been an early geological period, they might perhaps have occupied the iguanodon's inside without having any dinner there." Ouch!
Hawkins's publicity stunt was a resounding success. Stories about the dinner appeared in The Times, Punch, the Illustrated London News, and even Charles Dickens's newspaper, The Daily News. Six months later, over 40,000 people visited the Crystal Palace and marveled at Hawkins's dinosaur sculptures. Today, these sculptures are Grade I listed and are undergoing renovation. Though men-only dinner parties inside them are, sadly, not on the schedule.
So, what do you think? Was this a brilliant publicity stunt that advanced scientific understanding, or a bizarre and potentially insensitive event? Would you have attended a dinner party inside a dinosaur?
