Of Woodbridge and Hedgely is a satire on the phenomenon of science denial, born from my observations and interactions with climate change deniers and propagandists. Indeed, though the novel focuses on early natural history and agricultural science, I’ve included several allusions to climate security and climate change throughout it. Below, I’ve posted several extracts from the book to highlight some of my satire and science commentary, so that reviewers may form an opinion on the merit of such. I’ve included brief explanations on the context of each, but I’m sure most of the climate science communication community, already familiar enough with the mechanics of denial, will get the gist of it. I invite you to scroll down through the post and examine these summaries marked in bold, and pick out a few to review the text underneath.
The Historical Lens
I’ve given the book an early 19th century setting, creating a historical lens designed to sharpen the reader’s examination of the subject, as it allows my antagonists to take anti-science positions on topics that are very much settled today, starkly revealing their absurdity. For example, there was a debate in the late 18th century on whether or not igneous rock, like granite, could be continually formed, because some thought only the Christian God could create this ‘primordial’ rock. Some people dismissed volcanic activity as merely coal seam fires that had gotten out of control and melted a little ‘primordial’ rock. James Hutton tried to put the notion to rest by his examples of molten injections of rock and minerals into older material, the most famous of these being his Glen Tilt set, where pink granite had been injected into metamorphic sandstone, near the joining of two large waterways:
Grammar and Dialectal Artifacts
Grammar Trigger Warning – The book’s dialect and prose are mildly variant from modern English in order to place the reader back into the early 19th century. Also, I constantly use the word ‘that’ in place of the phrase ‘so that’, to give a ‘biblical’ or ‘Shakespearean’ effect to the prose. For example: ‘He grabbed a pen from his desk, so that he could write a note,’ becomes, ‘He grabbed a pen from his desk, that he could write a note’. [There is also a vocabulary section on the last two pages of the book in order to help the non-Austen or non-Regency readers.]
Satirical Moments and Scientific Commentary
Pg. 24 – 25 (agricultural rotation and importance of ecological diversity):
His thoughts ran upon ancient times well before Christ, when it was found that a monoculture crop planted continuously from one growing season to the next would exhaust the soil of its liveliness and promote the chronic lingering of disease, that farmers eventually adopted yearly or seasonal pauses which diminished these phenomena; during which their crops were grown on alternate sections of land. By the time of Charlemagne such had transformed into a three-field rotation, where one section of land was designated for wheat or rye during the autumn planting, whilst another was spring planted with legumes – peas, lentils, beans, or the like – and a third section was left fallow. Variants upon this and manuring followed as man strived further to impress upon the land that it should produce even greater yields that he, his brethren, and his animals may be better nourished.
But the forest needed no such attention: the thirsty Willow arranged itself by water courses; the autumn leaves and the offerings of the birds, squirrels, and every other creature present manured the soil and enlivened it, that there were no areas fallow or need be so. Pestilence was held in check, Mr. Winter rationalized, as function of the rich variation of flora and fauna of the wood, for just as agrarian fields were less susceptible to disease as their contents became more varied season by season through the introduction of rotation, such manifested exponentially here, though he admitted that the mechanics of this were still partly a mystery. And acts of man, be they structures, paths, or otherwise, if left in want of attention would be reclaimed by the forest, similar to the body’s reaction to a minor cut or wound. It was as if the wood was a great perpetual clock having hundreds to thousands of working parts which were self-righting and self-tinkering, that all gave and received from each other purpose.
Pg. 79 (on how a theory may be robust, without every last, miniscule detail of it being known):
Impressed by his audience at this, he further gave an example of how a thing can be known generally, even as what is known of the details is limited: In fair, summer weather it may take a carriage traveling from Edinburgh to London a good ten days to accomplish its route, he argued; and in poor winter weather it may take twenty days or longer; so it may be known that such a venture could take between ten and twenty days or longer, though for any one particular trip, it cannot be known – the precise time of arrival; such being dependent upon the weather, the vitality of horses and carriage wheels, the health of the passengers, etcetera. Again, this was well taken, which prompted him further toward the meat of his lecture.
Pg. 105 (use of fake science experts):
‘My word! Our man said he read several passages of the Comte, professing the seventy five thousand years as were he immersed in the Bible at quarter to noon on Sunday. It appears he has not represented the author at all on the matter – oh, such sharp practice!’, cried Mr. Edwards as he looked over his new hire: Mr. Princep was something of a fading grey dandy, haggard but well shaved, and missing a hand’s area of hair his junior self did once possess atop his forehead. More importantly to his company though, was that he was a natural philosopher and Fellow of the Royal Society of London – the title everything to their wants – and it was neither here nor there that he was a most unproductive member, having contributed no articles to the Philosophical Transactions along his tenure.
Pg. 101 – 102 (commentary on free market practice and climate):
‘By the by, when was the last time you limed any of your land, Mr. Arnold?’
‘Sir I’ve never done so: I’ve never had the need’, the farmer said, then after a moment’s hesitation, he added, ‘There was a young man I used to let the western part of my property to, who did attempt some like improvement in the poverty year by way of the set of wicked quarry men, which I’m sure your Mr. Parkinson would have a few descriptions for…’
‘Yes’, said Mr. Winter, recalling his first evening at the Agricultural Society, ‘The laissez-faire men who could not defeat the climate’.
‘Those exact! Well, considering them, and considering the number of instances here and about where no real benefit has come of it…’
Pg. 108 (on the implementation of propaganda, Bernays’s style):
‘Mr. Princep, I believe we understand each other well enough’, said Mr. Edwards when their conversational zeal began to ebb. ‘Please allow me to elaborate more upon the subject I put in my original calling: We have decided that appealing to the town through my person alone would not be efficacious, for it is too coincidental with that of a simple, personal contest between two local men. We thus find it more attractive were a seemingly unattached third party with some measure of authority, as you have – being of the Royal Society – to intervene in a discrete format, which would allow our town’s members to perceive that they were active participants in the countering of Mr. Winter’s and Mr. Moore’s nonsense. We propose a pamphlet series to be that very format, which may be sold at our local bookstore, that our brethren could read and decide for themselves what is right, true and just, profess it to others among their circles, and perhaps be brave enough to contradict these men’s followers when proper circumstances call to do so.
Pg. 112 (‘It’s the sun; not us’ crock; and Bill O’Reily’s ‘Tide goes in, tide goes out; you can’t explain that’ comment):
‘Mr. Langly’s fields have all to do with the work o’ the sun and little else, sir! All the like, sloped grounds don’t see it well and thusly suffer production!’, Mr. Weston griped in a tone confident he had smoked the trouble as easy as kiss his hand. Indeed he was ecstatic that Winter had not, being the ‘philosophical flat’ which he and his brethren now took him for; this notion ringing clearly with the quick lesson, that his colleagues’ mouths were instantly wetted in hopes that their fellow would deliver more of his superior knowledge down onto the man.
‘Amen – hear him!’, cried his lackey, Mr. Smith. ‘The sun alone does giveth and taketh, like the river’s tide and ocean’s ebb and flow; and not a mortal to explain it!’
Pg. 113 (on cherry picking and pulling scientists words out of context, Lord Monckton style):
The explanation did little to calm the gentlemen. Indeed it seemed to rouse his antagonists further, as another stood up and coarsely injected, ‘The gentleman praises Sir Humphrey Davy’s book often enough that we may allow him well versed. Why then does he pay no mind to the professor’s follies or those in the many anecdotes that mark the lectures? Let me provide the room with a taste:
‘On page two hundred and eighty three, Davy does state:
‘Quicklime in its pure state, whether in powder or dissolved in water is injurious to plants. – I have in several instances killed grass by watering it with lime water!
‘Whilst on page two hundred and eighty nine, the man confesses:
‘I took four portions of the same soil: with one I mixed a fraction of its weight with caustic magnesia; barley was sown into it. In this soil containing this magnesia, it rose very feeble and looked yellow and sickly!
‘On the selfsame page he – I venture a little mad – admits to repeating the same procedure with the expected result, finally concluding, as he had previously on page two eighty eight, that magnesian lime is poison – the very stuff that you, sir, have offered as one of your remedies to Mr. Arnold!’
Mr. Winter motioned to object, for Davy’s words had been partially disassembled from their context, confounding the perception of the chemist’s abilities. Whether the cause was insincerity or ineptitude, he couldn’t tell at present, but he did note that the man was reading from a thin, printed parchment, and not from the author’s official publication. And before he did scarcely breath in to issue a proper return, he was cut short; the farmer crescendoing his voice preemptively:
Pg. 117 (birth of an anti-science conspiracy in which the scientist is accused of a tax money grab; reinforcing nature of rightwing bubble, regarding talking points):
I am a great marauder of farmland whose prime desire is to cover its fields completely with iron and glass that I may take part in the tax money incurred by such extravagance, my father of course adjudicating deal, and with the secondary benefit that it confuses its laborers: ‘that not a ploughman may plough, a tiller may till, a roller may roll, or a wife may gavel the corn’. At least this is how I am thought of in lower Hedgely, its constituents having been unilaterally poisoned by such a supposition; this – among other absurdities discovered at last Sunday’s Society meeting – seemingly producing a social return inside this set as each player reinforced the notion to the group.
[In 1820’s England, there was a window property tax based on the number of windows a building had. The protagonist speaking has erected a greenhouse to run botany experiments, naturally full of windows in his backyard – one of just a handful in England at the time – which gives rise to the antagonists’ tax mythology.]
Pg. 171 (comment on food scarcity and the climate):
The protraction of winter had in fact so encroached upon the spring that Mr. Winter, sitting at his writing desk, mused upon the elasticity of the seasons which distinguished such from the strictness of the calendar, and the utter dependency the industrious quality of a farmer’s existence was upon the climate.
Pg. 174 (epiphany that agricultural land is in an artificial, destructive state; epiphany of modern artificial fertilization):
What I will instead employ my pen to reveal are thoughts incidental to such I’ve formulated over the winter’s recess: that the most prime state of farming may exist by affording a piece of land more manure than it can indeed produce, and not by merely reimbursing that land with what our poor powers perceive as having been taken. In accepting this one must concede that mankind is disruptive to the land he tends: he pars and burns woodland – which is in a harmonious state of cyclical nutriment that it may exist to infinitum as long as providence, the earth’s mechanical forces, or the climate are willing – in order to produce a plot whose nutriment is a delicate function of the tireless work he does upon it. And in not mistaking farmland as existing in a natural state, one can accept that enriching a land past what nature could provide may be beneficial to his industry.
Pg. 179 (integrating the ‘wind turbines cause disease’ crock, alongside the repetitive nature of the anti-science propaganda):
George Moore has naturally taken some complaints concerning my engineering endeavors – firstly against my pools, for as soon as my hires had presented to the fields the ridiculous notion that I was to glaze over the land and take backdoor payments on tax collections sprung up again, causing time to be wasted on the part of all involved. And as quick as the howling of these dogs quieted down after having been satisfied in our suffering of time, they started up again upon the recent deployment of my water wheel pumps: Claims that they were a blight on the countryside, ruining its continuity and picturesque quality, became a pounding point by this same set of men at the latest Society meeting. No doubt they further authored the misinformation that the pumps would be uncommon loud, like steam pumps when they ran at full capacity, and that the noise and vibration would cause those proximal to suffer “headaches, dyspepsia, shortened tempers, and any other manner of nervous attitude putting them and their offspring in the way of infectious sequelae”, those specifically mentioned being pox, influenza, measles, whooping cough and even the nefarious marthambles. I’m now obliged to dispel these charges through demonstrations, again dampening my schedule whilst these few wag their tales and salivate at having further antagonized me. [Note: the marthambles, was a mythological disease from the early 19th century.]
Pg. 189 (science deniers ignorant views on the progress of energy technology):
‘And certainly it is not just the material philosopher that suffers: The coal gas the chemical philosophers implement in London and our larger towns can only be made to burn so bright before the flame becomes injurious to the contents of a dwelling it is supposed to illuminate, or the material on which it is delivered; again an unsatisfactory limitation in comparison to that which already exists – in this case a fine set of candles or a whale lamp. The coal supply itself will surely be expended at some point, and if not that, then the other chemicals used to wash it, that it be less noxious to its users.
‘But the argument then is further solidified as we turn to those that are mere theorists who offer no practical implements in their art. Here lies the realm of transmutation and old earths with molten innards, which are at best, silly curiosities for university dandies to ponder upon but do little with…’ [Here, the character fails to anticipate geothermal energy, as he denies a fundamental aspect of modern geology.]
Pg. 191 (on science deniers’ debating and propaganda techniques):
‘Whilst I know not of any one piece of philosophical information that can comprehensively break their entire lot, we must however constantly strive to create the perception that such can be done, or has already been done. Indeed in a contradistinguishing fashion to one sole, all-smiting stroke, we, to the greatest effect, thus work in the realm gratuitous rhetoric, the like to a London barrister weaving a case by multiple strands, the greater of these appealing to an audience not necessarily on any logical ground, but in a manner rhetorical, political, emotive, or otherwise. To be sure, we will have our moments for a given strand: we may find a careless error in our adversary’s argument and work to turn such into a very great thing indeed. But the better part must be attractive enough, even in cases of broken reason, that it remains effective; in fact it’s probably most efficacious not to subject any strand to the focus on first principles or evidence. By this style of argument, several strands may buckle or break, but if the majority stay intact then we give ourselves the finest cause to be the victors. And for every strand our adversary produces, we need only continuously produce two against it to legitimize our stand against him’…
…‘For the material that is relevant to your particular country towns sirs, sharp wit is not our instrument; rather the opposite: We must solicit the admiration of dullards that hold the way of the world, not in long drawn out passages, but in quick bites of ‘truths’ that are easily clapped onto: casual observances that work more times than not, even if but near half of those, yet which they will grasp onto most angrily on all occasion as a function of they being so readily understood, and by their holder’s frailty of mind in the presence of the unfamiliar, or that which is troublesome to smoke…’
Pg. 201 (illustrating uneducated farmhands’ unprogressive social stance with regard to race in 1821 (and beyond; these men representing modern ‘country’ conservatives), and also giving a hat tip to Potholer54 and his golden crock-a-duck award):
‘I heard ‘ems was of a rather strange physique and colour, but on account o’ their savagery an’ not more. Oh, oh, oh!’, the Hedgely cried in alarm as he pointed over the heads of the Woodbridge’s at their table, causing them to turn around only to find the keep with their scrumpy. ‘My apologies, sirs: I reckoned it were a winged boar or a crocodilian-duck! Ha, ha, ha!’
Pg. 201 (an appeal to scientific authority, when its practitioners adhere to the scientific method):
‘Sir, does it not occur that when you have a swing at us, you’re not in the least injuring Mr. Darwin or Mr. Moore?; that whilst there are those among us which concede that the gentleman could well be onto something beyond our poor minds, we do not erect his every notion to gospel with which to populate our standards, falling any variant? We only commit that there are men more expert upon these scientific notions than us or you, and when they provide credible work sufficient for their peers, such must be respected; and no amount of words nor bruises does tear it’.
Pg. 232 (on sustainability and finiteness of earth’s resources):
Yet as one member casually looked back, over his shoulder, at the Hedgely fields south of Mr. Arnold’s, he was reminded of those that felt stewardship entailed taking from the land with no notion of return – convictions that could only be held in the short interval, for by the application of deep time – rather the depth felt on man’s generational scale – such perceptions of morality and principle are overruled by the ungovernable work of reality and its finiteness.
‘Never mind the Baptists’, called out Mr. Winter at the man, having caught him looking rather thoughtful at the other fields kept by such men. ‘For sure as they presently find folly and ridicule in our practice, as its benefits come to fruition and build in magnitude with successive rotations, it will come to pass that they will bestow upon it virtues it certainly does not keep, they but existing, naturally, in a perpetual state of error; and I will indeed have to then caution them against injurious applications of marle and the like. But let them continue to apply their stable dung and urine to their acidic plots for the present…’
Pg. 241 (on witch hunting, religious or otherwise):
‘…Further, I kept little doubt – as did we all, I believe – that from its detail of our labors, there were retained a few local loyalists whose initial reporting perhaps accelerated into the witch hunt we’ve thusly suffered. Such is not an uncommon tool held by some of these fanatical groups, in that it secures their positions, rallies their brethren in number, and perhaps justifies the endogenous perceptions of their existence: that they are moral warriors crusading against evil, salivating at its collapse from the abstract to a worldly embodiment that they may prick with their swords or the like’.
‘I would venture further, Mr. Winter, and submit that some of the fellows with the swords at times have property or status to be gained or maintained by the puncturing of their antagonists. Did you at all smoke the loyalists then?’
Pg. 243 (propaganda meant to confuse people into inaction; and the use of biblical references to justify a person’s desired actions):
‘It is hard to say without having attended the men’s tables. Princep naturally had to author the counterarguments against Hutton, Davy, and Darwin, etcetera, by his own ingenuity, often having to summarize either side’s positions that the Hedgely’s could thus follow their own mischief. Yet he did state that he was commissioned to ‘but politely butcher’ us – to ‘broadcast doubt simply to the point of confused inaction’ concerning my manuring of the fields; Edward’s having the selfsame reservations about its efficacy as Smith and Weston openly did; indeed feeding them further in their convictions by the offering of apparently supportive scripture’.
Pg. 243 (again satire on people like Lindzen who are propped up by their professorship status as authorities):
‘The man’s greatest trick was that he was a Royal Society member, that readers of the instrument may bask in his authority, whilst those that sought to apply his guff to the towns could to such defer – never mind he hadn’t but even one article in the Philosophical Transactions, nor the Annals of Philosophy, nor any other scientific journal; I’ve confirmed it with the man himself – he is indeed the least successful natural philosopher in London; the irony being that Davy – the man he sought to diminish – has had three papers accepted to this year’s Transactions alone, and as of last November has been the elected president of the Royal Society. But beyond such, Mr. Princep seems to have only offered what Mr. Edwards was so sharp set to hear, despite the spoon feeding. You are having difficulty with Mr. Edward’s motive?’
Pg. 248 (Baptist holds a false belief that the 1816 ‘Year Without a Summer’, where the volcanic winter produced from the eruption of Mount Tambora caused food shortages in Europe, is a punishment from God for the wrongdoings of his Anglican rival, four years later, in 1820 and 21. He intends to shoot him in a pistol duel in order to make sure the climate doesn’t get any worse):
‘Sir, there are consequences from such utter abandonment, where He is not welcome upon our countryside, inside our towns, schools, and – heavens! – even in Woodbridge’s place of worship every other Sunday! Men of the lower cast perpetuate physical disagreements with one another; others of all stations wake from Spring with no design for revival of their spirits and stay but in their gardens on Sundays, in hope of avoiding like conflicts boiling up from the voids He has left; armed watchmen whom worship only the moon and the night take shots at good Christians that only wish to deliver them a pot of coffee and a crust of bread as they shepherd over their pagan contraptions and artificial fields of wheat. I will not go further, but further it goes.
‘It is my belief this was all foretold in the year eighteen sixteen with the failing of summer and our crops, that we suffered so over the following winter. Considering all which has come to pass, it cannot be reconciled otherwise, but that such was a providential message of warning and preemptive punishment for that now upon us, in which sir, you’ve performed an ample part. The winter was again this year cruel, and for good reason. I am sorry Parson Moore, but I do not wish to see a decade without a summer which I feel is upon us, were I not to do God’s bidding this morn’.
A long silent pause occurred where only the gurgling of the river and the calling of nocturnal birds was observed.
‘Mr. Edwards, have you considered that one man’s follies alone do not change the English climate? That if such a thing were possible, it would arise from concerted effort?’, asked Mr. Moore, yet the only answer he received was from the river.
Pg. 261 – 62 (notion of false balance in the media and that the rich are rarely held accountable for their mischief):
‘Oh Lord – Mr. Winter!’, cried Charlotte. ‘I’ve just smoked the significance! Oh cousin, forgive me! Forgive me; I did not know! That is to say I did not accept the servants’ opinions of him anymore than I did the ill talk of Mr. Winter that came up from Hedgely on occasion. My goodness – the irony: that it was he who caused such menacing to begin with, and by its existence, such eventually gentled his own character for my part, when the towns did turn on him, by way of our inherent desire for balance where none does truly exist! What may become of him, do you think?’
‘He is a well situated landowner. Were he not to suffer an uncommon many gross errors of business, then his rents will continue as they have done for his uncle; and whilst he’s in want of age and finds no sore neck or crackled bones by the ready use of his carriage, he will maintain his weekly place at the Edward’s dinner table; but were he at all to be called out on his recent delinquency, it would be in the most genial manner with no good friends won or lost on it, save the Moore’s I suppose, though I hesitate in elevating his status so at Woodbridge Manor. I suspect in time he will marry a lesser woman or an impoverished aristocrat, have many a dull child, and oblige them all to endure his evening reading’, said Harriet, regretting her final speculation, as it unmade the little improvement Charlotte had been taking as they longer conversed.
Pg. 268 – 69 (more on the notion of failure to adopt new technology for religious reasons):
From such concerns, and from thoughts on Mr. Winter’s ventures those last nine months, a broader notion too was tacitly born: Though Mr. Weston, and Mr. Smith beside him, did own their own land and could afford to produce two or three bushels of grain less per acre than the farmers who worked on let land, their companions in the latter situation could not, and were thusly obliged to struggle some day, would they continue to idolize these men in their practice. How long would they stubbornly refuse to marl or otherwise enrich their lands by artificial means, but instead place the entire responsibility onto God, and let His sun, rain, and providence alone define their yields? Such rigid ideology did not seem compatible with sustained survival on the generational time scale, nor even the decadal; indeed, they were yearly spared but from the tradition of animal husbandry and dung heaps they were born into; as well their forefather’s better care and smaller demand of the land, that they inherited in it credible reserves of nutriment. It was with such in mind, of those who had indeed recently adopted Mr. Winter’s more pragmatic approach to improvement after touring his fields, that there was a resuscitation of spirit when the man himself was called to the front of the room: for in his report there would be evidence that the Baptists could not so readily dismiss. Still his detractors clasped hard to their well worn disdain for him, and as he arose from his chair, made his way forward, and was observed to carry a set of parchment in his hand, such thusly triggered a set of loud, objectionable whispers:
Pg. 274 – 75 (Fox News’ ‘Some say’ line; and Dave Burton’s angle of incidence arguments on the Arctic ocean’s solar absorption conflated with Willie Soon’s ‘It’s the Sun’ argument):
Never heard o’ such a thing – doin’ the Lord’s work, waterin’ fields by ladle – the surplus waterin’ alone is what done it!’, a voice did state, cutting down the room’s ambient conversation that he would have undivided attention during his query. He then let fly his full throat, and in an accusatory tone asked, ‘What say you, sir – that some say your success at the Foster plots was on account o’ the steady waterin’, givin’ an advancement to the fields, durin’ last month’s dry spell, that other men did not have?’
Mr. Winter squinted his eyes and wrinkled his nose in observing the man, and after a small pause did answer, ‘Sir, I believe it was you, was it not, that just a while ago, when I was moving toward the front of the room, whispered to your mate that I would surely take credit for the fine summer weather?’
The room turned on the man, insisting there was no dry spell to speak of and that fifty bushels per acre of wheat was no fool’s accident. And conceding defeat by the quick changing of the subject, Mr. Smith then took his turn:
‘Alright Mr. Winter, but what us right scientific husbandm’n do question is your Langley field, that slopes down at th’ river: When it was heavy dress’d in marle an’ dung, did this not change th’ plot to a less injurious angle for th’ sun to hit against? For, as we said all along, ‘twas the lack o’ sun that confound’d the field’.
Mr. Winter scrolled his eyes over the room, observing much too much desire in the red countenances cocked toward him and bodies leaning the selfsame direction, that he may answer the man with not a word lost from lack of attentiveness.
Pg 290 – 91 (on the nature of science disinformation and presentation of propaganda):
On and on it did go: The ill found nuggets of deception that Mr. Princep had long ago formulated were presented, and for every quarter minute it would take to recite one, it would take a quarter of an hour to push back on it with equal force. Counterarguments then followed, questioning everything that was not commonly understood or known in the plebian ranks, all of which too took an unproportional amount of time to dispel. Credible men unjustly suffered being stripped of their credibility, which had to be slowly rebuilt at the table. And when all possible avenues had been exhausted in exploding one particular subject, another was jumped upon in which the antagonist felt it was fair game to continue to use his formerly destroyed ideas as support of such. It was a war of attrition where patience was the commodity being targeted. The format of the debate – where a man may say anything he wished without the necessity of a reference to weight him down – also favored the men who sought not the truth, but instead only to win the argument. Indeed they took the greatest pleasure in a cheering onlooker or a passerby calling out to them that they were doing the Lord’s work.
As the conversational structures at the table gave way to blurry, chaotic chatter, the lass reviewed in her mind their previous thoughts on the glasshouses. It didn’t seem likely that her father would give up his trade to farm a row of glasshouse gardens, even if there were room out back of their cottage for such. And by now, most others in the towns too realized such rumors were merely that, and that they were derived from Mr. Wyatt’s malicious motives, and Mr. Edward’s benevolent fears of secularism and that his towns’ farmland could have been again subjected to the like of the nefarious quarryman’s actions of the year eighteen sixteen. Further, a fair amount had of recent read Mr. Princep’s words in The Country Anglican, and knew exactly what they implied.
Nevertheless, several pockets of men in Hedgely, like the two before her one table removed, kept a refractory attitude toward the myths, as were it their religion to do so. Such did spring from an amalgam of deficiencies in their characters which included proportions of misguided allegiance to Mr. Edwards, or perhaps even to Mr. Wyatt, and conflation of their uncommon beliefs and those of the local Particular Baptists; some general fear that other men might get the better on them, and thusly of over taxation; fear of change; of not being in the right, always; of loss of identity or habit of thought, and even fear of disease. Yet for all their insecurities and pettiness, they were in fact the most vicious of denialists, who ironically lacked the capacity of self examination, that they proudly rallied around the skeptic’s standard.
Pg. 291 (the repetitive pushing of lies, even long after they are debunked):
‘And what of these water pumps on Mr. Foster’s property?’, started the secondary antagonist at the table, referring to Mr. Winter’s pumps – another classical favorite in these men’s repertoire. ‘For just yesterday more ailments have been reported from the set of cottages on Lion’s Head Lane, quite near the vexing things: Another girl and her brother have taken to fevers most similar in nature to the few we had had word of from the place but last week. When for the children’s sake will it be recognized that the contraptions’ screeches and scrapings attract the more malignant of vapors that cause these feverish diseases, and weaken the constitutions of any such creature within earshot?’
Pg. 293 – 94 (hat tip to Climate Crocks and Skeptical Science):
‘One could imagine an article devoted solely to dissolving these claims concerning my water pumps’, continued Mr. Winter. ‘We might visit the doctor and beg for records that we may assemble illness rates about the towns, and compare them against the areas nebulous my pumps; further looking at rates before and after they were installed. If the doctor is not keen, then we shall take surveys’.
‘And we would not expect to find any differences?’
‘Just so – and thusly we give the towns fair proof of such during a particular week; and then the week after, we clap onto another nugget of disinformation; and then another the week after, etcetera, etcetera, until the men that presently take pleasure in stoking these notions are demoted to the rank of silly little girls in the eyes of the public’.
‘And these too shall be published in The Anglican, alongside our others?’
‘Indeed Mr. Princep, for I believe we’ve discussed the current cost of paper on a previous occasion, which Mr. Moore suffers to pay, that the towns may keep their news. It would be the most economic manner of presenting them. We would have it a regular column; perhaps call it Woodbridge’s Weekly Whitewash, or Woodbridge and Hedgely’s Sham of the Week, or The Skeptical Woodbridger, or something the like’.
Pg. 303 (Sir Humphry Davy’s Conclusion to his book Elements of Agricultural Chemistry which also acts as the conclusion of my book):
…I have now exhausted all the subjects of discussion which my experience or information have been able to supply on the connection of chemistry with agriculture. I venture to hope that some of the views brought forward may contribute to the improvement of the most important and useful of the arts. I trust that the enquiry will be pursued by others; and that in proportion, as chemical philosophy advances towards perfection, it will afford new aids to agriculture.
There are sufficient motives connected with both pleasure and profit, to encourage ingenius men to pursue this new path of investigation. Science cannot long be despised by any persons as the mere speculation of theorists; but must soon be considered by all ranks of men in its true point of view, as the refinement of common sense, guided by experience, gradually substituting sound and rational principles, for vague popular prejudices…