"I don't know. It was a very useful protest against some forms of modernity."
"My dear fellow, modernity simply means democracy. And when once democracy has been forced on us there's no good protesting any longer."
"All the same, you'll go on protesting, you know."
"As a harmless private person, yes. As a critic I must accept a certain amount of defeat at the hands of the majority."
"But you don't happen to believe in the majority?"
"I do believe in it," said he, bitterly. "I believe that it has destroyed criticism by destroying literature. A critic only exists through the existence of great men. And there are no great men nowadays; only a great number of little men."
"I see. Othello's occupation's gone."
"Not at all. Othello's occupation's only beginning. You can't criticize these people, but you must review them. And I assure you it means far more labour and a finer discrimination to pick out your little man from a crowd of little men than to recognize your great man when you see him."
"When you see him—"
"Ah yes—when I see him. But where is he? Show me," said Jewdwine, "one work of unmistakable genius published any time in the last five, the last ten years."