not because their taste has improved--but because they have not had
sufficient practice to be able to rely on their taste as a means of
permanent pleasure. They simply don't know from one day to the next
what will please them.

In the face of this one may ask: Why does the great and universal
fame of classical authors continue? The answer is that the fame of
classical authors is entirely independent of the majority. Do you
suppose that if the fame of Shakespeare depended on the man in the
street it would survive a fortnight? The fame of classical authors is
originally made, and it is maintained, by a passionate few. Even when
a first-class author has enjoyed immense success during his lifetime,
the majority have never appreciated him so sincerely as they have
appreciated second-rate men. He has always been reinforced by the
ardour of the passionate few. And in the case of an author who has
emerged into glory after his death the happy sequel has been due
solely to the obstinate perseverance of the few. They could not leave
him alone; they would not. They kept on savouring him, and talking
about him, and buying him, and they generally behaved with such eager
zeal, and they were so authoritative and sure of themselves, that
at last the majority grew accustomed to the sound of his name and
placidly agreed to the proposition that he was a genius; the majority
really did not care very much either way.

And it is by the passionate few that the renown of genius is kept
alive from one generation to another. These few are always at work.
They are always rediscovering genius. Their curiosity and enthusiasm
are exhaustless, so that there is little chance of genius being
ignored. And, moreover, they are always working either for or against
the verdicts of the majority. The majority can make a reputation, but