Knowledge and her Daughter:
A Fable
1. Knowledge, the daughter of Jupiter, descended from the skies to visit man. She found
him naked and helpless, living on the spontaneous fruits of the earth, and little
superior to ox that grazed beside him. She clothed and fed him; she built him
palaces; she showed him the hidden riches of the earth, and pointed with her finger
the course of the stars as they rose and set in the horizon. Man became rich with
her gifts, and accomplished from her conversation. In process of time Knowledge
became acquainted with the schools of the philosophers; and being much taken with
their theories and their conversation, she married one of them. They had many
beautiful and healthy children; but among the rest was a daughter of a different
complexion from all the rest, whose name was Doubt. She grew up under many
disadvantages; she had a great hesitation in her speech; a cast in her eye, which,
however, was keen and piercing; and was subject to nervous tremblings. Her mother
saw her with
dislike: but her father, who was of the sect of the Pyrrhonists,
cherished and taught her logic, in which she made a great progress. The Muse of
History was much troubled with her intrusions: she would tear out whole leaves, and
blot over many pages of her favourite works. With the divines her depredations were
still worse: she was forbidden to enter a church; notwithstanding which, she would
slip in under the surplice, and spend her time in making mouths at the priest. If
she got at a library, she destroyed or blotted over the most valuable manuscripts. A
most undutiful child; she was never better pleased than when she could unexpectedly
trip up her mother's heels, or expose a rent or an unseemly patch in her flowing and
ample garment. With mathematicians she never meddled; but in all other systems of
knowledge she intruded herself, and her breath diffused a mist over the page which
often left it scarcely legible. Her mother at length said to her, "Thou are
my child, and I know it is decreed that while I tread this earth thou must accompany
my footsteps; but thou art mortal, I am immortal; and there will come a time when I
shall be freed from thy intrusion, and shall pursue my glorious track form star to
star, and from system to system, without impediment and without check."
Date: 1825
(revised 02/08/2005) Author: Anna Letitia Barbauld
(revised Zach Weir).
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