But could this argument be applied to poetry and literary art, the
field of battle in which the belligerents, including Perrault
himself, were most deeply interested? It might prove that the modern
age was capable of producing poets and men of letter no less
excellent than the ancient masters, but did it prove that their
works must be superior? The objection did not escape Perrault, and
he answers it ingeniously. It is the function of poetry and
eloquence to please the human heart, and in order to please it we
must know it. Is it easier to penetrate the secrets of the human
heart than the secrets of nature, or will it take less time? We are
always making new discoveries about its passions and desires. To
take only the tragedies of Corneille you will find there finer and
more delicate reflections on ambition, vengeance, and jealousy than
in all the books of antiquity. At the close of his Parallel,
however, Perrault, while he declares the general superiority of the
moderns, makes a reservation in regard to poetry and eloquence "for
the sake of peace."

The discussion of Perrault falls far short of embodying a full idea
of Progress. Not only is he exclusively concerned with progress in
knowledge--though he implies, indeed, without developing, the
doctrine that happiness depends on knowledge--but he has no eyes for
the future, and no interest in it. He is so impressed with the
advance of knowledge in the recent past that he is almost incapable
of imagining further progression. "Read the journals of France and
England," he says, "and glance at the publications of the Academies
of these great kingdoms, and you will be convinced that within the
last twenty or thirty years more discoveries have been made in
natural science than throughout the period of learned antiquity. I