it is too careless to maintain it. If, by accident, the passionate few
agree with the majority in a particular instance, they will frequently
remind the majority that such and such a reputation has been made,
and the majority will idly concur: "Ah, yes. By the way, we must
not forget that such and such a reputation exists." Without that
persistent memory-jogging the reputation would quickly fall into the
oblivion which is death. The passionate few only have their way by
reason of the fact that they are genuinely interested in literature,
that literature matters to them. They conquer by their obstinacy
alone, by their eternal repetition of the same statements. Do you
suppose they could prove to the man in the street that Shakespeare was
a great artist? The said man would not even understand the terms they
employed. But when he is told ten thousand times, and generation
after generation, that Shakespeare was a great artist, the said
man believes--not by reason, but by faith. And he too repeats that
Shakespeare was a great artist, and he buys the complete works of
Shakespeare and puts them on his shelves, and he goes to see the
marvellous stage-effects which accompany _King Lear_ or _Hamlet_, and
comes back religiously convinced that Shakespeare was a great artist.
All because the passionate few could not keep their admiration of
Shakespeare to themselves. This is not cynicism; but truth. And it
is important that those who wish to form their literary taste should
grasp it.

What causes the passionate few to make such a fuss about literature?
There can be only one reply. They find a keen and lasting pleasure
in literature. They enjoy literature as some men enjoy beer. The
recurrence of this pleasure naturally keeps their interest in
literature very much alive. They are for ever making new researches,
for ever practising on themselves. They learn to understand