Capital fables, also, in the same ironical spirit, are 'Prometheus Unbound,' the tale of the vainglorying of a champagne-cork, and 'Teleology,' where a nettle justifies the ways of God to nettles while all goes well with it, and, upon a change of luck, promptly changes its divinity.
In all these there is still plenty of the fabulous if you will, although, even here, there may be two opinions possible; but there is another group, of an order of merit perhaps still higher, where we look in vain for any such playful liberties with Nature.

Thus we have 'Conservation of Force'; where a musician, thinking of a certain picture, improvises in the twilight; a poet, hearing the music, goes home inspired, and writes a poem; and then a painter, under the influence of this poem, paints another picture, thus lineally descended from the first.

This is fiction, but not what we have been used to call fable.

We miss the incredible element, the point of audacity with which the fabulist was wont to mock at his readers.

And still more so is this the case with others.