and vividness of the
descriptions, but said that "various portions of the history are known to
be a faithful narrative of Mr. Borrow's career, while we ourselves can
testify, as to many other parts of his volumes, that nothing can excel
the fidelity with which he has described both men and things," and "why
under these circumstances he should envelop the question in mystery is
more than we can divine. There can be no doubt that the larger part, and
possibly the whole, of the work is a narrative of actual occurrences, and
just as little that it would gain immensely by a plain avowal of the
fact." I have suggested that there were good reasons for not calling the
work an autobiography. Dr. Knapp has shown in his fortieth chapter that
the narrative was interrupted to admit lengthy references to much later
events for purposes of "occult vengeance"; and that these interruptions
helped to cause the delay and to change the title there can be little
doubt.

Borrow was angry at the failure of "Lavengro," and in the appendix to
"The Romany Rye" he actually said that he had never called "Lavengro" an
autobiography and never authorised anyone to call it such. This was not
a lie but a somewhat frantic assertion that his critics were mistaken
about his "dream." In later years he quietly admitted that "Lavengro"
gave an account of his early life.

Yet Dr. Knapp was not strictly and completely accurate in saying that the
first volume of "Lavengro" is "strictly autobiographical and authentic as
the whole was at first intended to be." He could give no proof that
Borrow's memory went back to his third year or that he first handled a
viper at that time. He could only show that Borrow's accounts do not
conflict with other accounts of the same matters. When they did
conflict, Dr. Knapp was unduly elated by the discovery.

Take, for example, the sixteenth chapter of "Lavengro," where he
describes the horse fair at Norwich when he was a boy:

"The reader is already aware that I had long since conceived a passion
for the equine race, a passion in which circumstances had of late not
permitted me to indulge. I had no horses to ride, but I took pleasure in
looking at them; and I had already attended more than one of these fairs:
the present was lively enough, indeed horse fairs are seldom dull. There
was shouting and whooping, neighing and braying; there was galloping and
trotting; fellows with highlows and white stockings, and with ma