The Cunning and cruel Snake, whetting his fangs with poison in treacherous lair, and following with malignant eye the unconscious creature of his lust . . .
Thomas Hawkins was the son of a farmer who encouraged his interest in geology by giving him enough money to purchase fossils. Hawkins made himself into a capable fossil preparator, whose skill at preparation was exceeded only by his pugnaciousness and tendency toward purple prose. Gideon Mantell once described him as "a very young man who has more money than wit." In his various books, he chose illustrations to match, like these by John Samuelson (top) and John Martin (bottom).
Like many of his colleagues, Hawkins combined a belief in scripture with acceptance of life before Adam and Eve, yet his view of the pre-human world was hardly cheerful. He envisioned a planet sweltering under a sunless sky crawling with monstrous animals. Hawkins never accepted Charles Lyell's theory of uniformitarianism, perhaps because a long history of epic calamities appealed more to his nature.
Acquaintances tolerated Hawkins's quirks because of his outstanding fossil collection, and he was willing to do anything to promote the idea that his fossils were the best. He likely completed many skeletons by inserting parts from other specimens. By writing both of them separately and confidentially, Hawkins hoodwinked Gideon Mantell and William Buckland into assessing his collection at similarly high values. Buckland then naively wrote the British Museum recommending that the institution purchase the collection, offering Hawkins's "beautifully and most accurately" engraved volume as a catalog. The British Museum's trustees took Buckland's advice.
Charles König, Keeper of Natural History at the British Museum (who had no voice in deciding whether to purchase the Hawkins collection), was an overworked but dedicated and uncomplaining man. Just before Hawkin's 25-foot ichthyosaur was to be put on display in 1835, König gave it a careful inspection. It looked perfect. It looked too perfect, in fact. König consulted the catalog and discovered that the very real-looking right forefin was merely outlined in the catalog, indicating it was missing. Much of the ichthyosaur's tail was absent from the catalog's version, too. The "fossil" before König's eyes was largely plaster, though the museum had been led to believe it was entirely genuine bone. König notified Buckland and Mantell, then the museum's trustees. Unfortunately for everyone involved, the scandal even reached the British House of Commons. The final solution — one that Hawkins complained about bitterly — was to paint the plaster parts a different color to distinguish them from the fossil bone. The deception now remedied, this skeleton is still on display in the Natural History Museum of London. (In fact, many fossil skeletons on display in modern museums are combinations of fossil bones and casts of bones, and the approach museums generally take is the same as the London museum's.)
Hawkins spent his later years fighting with a landlord, defending his strawberry patch (in the words of one historian) "with disproportionate violence," suing, stirring up rival factions among the neighboring townsfolk to incite full-scale riots, and proclaiming himself the rightful Earl of Kent.
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Narrative text and graphic design © by Michon Scott - Updated February 19, 2012