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.
Further reading
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