The Horse’s Teeth Parable: Reflections on Empiricism, Attribution, and Historical Authorship

𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐲

"𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝟏𝟒𝟑𝟐 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞. 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭. 𝐀𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐱𝐞𝐝, 𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐧𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝-𝐨𝐟, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. 𝐀𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡; 𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐲 𝐮𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐰 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡. 𝐅𝐨𝐫, 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲, 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝-𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬. 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧, 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫-𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐨𝐟, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧."

This story was first introduced to me by a professor during one of my college classes. He didn’t claim it was historically factual but presented it as a parable to underscore the importance and practicality of empirical observation. The anecdote revolves around a group of monks engaged in an extended theological and philosophical debate over how many teeth a horse possesses. After hours of speculation, a young novice suggests they simply check the horse in the barn. Instead of being commended for his practicality, he is chastised for his lack of faith—a cautionary tale highlighting the tension between theoretical debate and direct observation.

Curious about the origins of the story, I investigated further. While the text of the anecdote is styled in archaic English and claims to be set in the 15th century, evidence suggests otherwise. Despite its medieval setting, I found that the earliest documented appearance of the story dates to 1901, appearing in The Monthly Journal of the International Association of Machinists (Volume 13, No. 3, p. 129) under the title "Chronicle of an Ancient Monastery." Although it was presented as an excerpt from a 15th-century chronicle, no earlier sources substantiate that claim. Over the years, the parable has been frequently attributed to Sir Francis Bacon (1561–1626), an advocate of the scientific method, and less frequently to Roger Bacon (c. 1219–1292), a medieval philosopher known for his emphasis on empirical research. However, no writings from either Bacon contain this story, rendering these attributions anachronistic and unfounded.

Beyond its value as an amusing parable, the tale raises important considerations about how narratives are constructed and retroactively attributed to esteemed figures to lend them unwarranted credibility. This phenomenon is not merely anecdotal—it mirrors broader patterns of textual history where later authors attribute works to prominent predecessors to enhance legitimacy.

In the field of biblical textual criticism, this practice is known as pseudepigraphy, wherein a text is intentionally ascribed to a more authoritative figure. This strategy aimed to ensure the work’s acceptance and influence. For example, many scholars argue that several New Testament letters traditionally credited to the Apostle Paul—particularly the Pastoral Epistles (1 Timothy, 2 Timothy, and Titus)—were written decades after Paul’s death. The authors likely adopted Paul’s name to secure the letters’ authority within early Christian communities. Remarkably, the strategy was effective: these letters were accepted into the biblical canon and remained unquestioned for centuries until modern textual analysis revealed stylistic and theological inconsistencies indicative of non-Pauline authorship.

A similar case can be observed with the Book of Daniel. Although the narrative purports to be set during the Babylonian exile of the 6th century BCE, modern scholarship suggests it was written much later—most likely during the Maccabean period (circa 167–164 BCE). The text’s detailed “prophecies” align closely with historical events of that era, leading scholars to conclude that these were not prophecies but rather retrospective accounts presented as predictions to provide hope and legitimacy during times of political turmoil. Like the pastoral letters, Daniel was accepted at face value for centuries before critical scholarship illuminated its actual historical context.

These examples—whether drawn from medieval parables or canonical texts—underscore the enduring human impulse to bolster ideas with the authority of the past. They serve as a reminder of the importance of critical inquiry, empirical investigation, and historical context in discerning truth from constructed tradition.

I find it somewhat ironic that it took the same critical inquiry that is emphasized in this story to find out that it was essentially a hoax.

Earliest known publication:
"Chronicle of an Ancient Monastery." Monthly Journal of the International Association of Machinists, vol. 13, no. 3, 1901, p. 129.