is wholly changed. Even if we read the Commedia without a commentary, it is impossible for us to forget all that has been said of Dante, all the interpretations of his vast work. We may indeed forget the marginalia of pedants, the minutiæ of casuists, the erudition of philologians, the glosses of fanatics; but we cannot forget the conceptions expressed, and thus imposed upon the sacred poem, by certain men of outstanding intellectual power. We view Dante through them as we view the heavens through Newton, and God through Dionysius the Areopagite.
And we may do better than forget: we may continue the work of such collaborators of Dante. It is indeed our proper task to find a new interpretation of his soul and of his work, an interpretation more rich in truth than all those we have inherited. In a recent book I asserted that modern Italy cannot understand Dante—and certain scholars took offense at this simple statement of fact. Yet if they would sincerely examine their own consciences they would be obliged to agree with me that the so-called "cult of Dante" is primarily a pretext for the composition of works of criticism, or history, or philology, in which there is no authentic trace of a true understanding of Dante. Critics in general study Dante just as they might study an obscure mock-heroic poet or an insignificant question of Greek
