the Irish reader may rest assured that I have reasonable grounds for stating that, in my opinion, Canon O’Leary’s version is, taking it all in all, by far the best that I have read. Nay more, I venture to assert that, in some respects, it is superior to the original. This is partly due to the wonderful flexibility of the Irish language—especially when wielded by the greatest living writer of that tongue.
In what other language in Europe could a place-name like Taprobane become so readily naturalized as it does in the Irish Tiobruid Bhán? Or a personal name like Alifanfaron yield Amhlaoibh-gan-fearann. In the second place, the Canon’s versions and modernizations have always been characterized by judicious omissions and condensations; the residuum being always charmingly fresh and free from prolixity. For example, in the present version, the long and tedious disquisition on the relative values of early Spanish romances is wisely omitted, as containing no matter of ordinary human interest, even for a Spaniard of the present day. The version has gained—not lost—by such omissions. Canon O’Leary has concentrated all the reader’s interest on the central figure of the story: in a word, he has given us the Quintessence of Quixote. Thirdly, he has surpassed Cervantes in wisdom, by stopping short at the end of the First Part of the story. Of course, Cervantes had no alternative, after the impudent plagiarism of Avellanada, but to complete the Second Part. Yet, the Second Part is an acknowledged failure, as compared with the First. Of it we can only exclaim, “What a falling-off was there”—“Quantum mutatus ab illo”!
And so, notwithstanding the promise latent in the
