Story's "Roba di Roma," Augustus Hare's "Walks in Rome," and all
the other descriptions of the Eternal City, are but disguised
guide-books, feeble and pale performances, when compared with Andersen's
beautiful romance.
[19] R. L. Stevenson in speaking of the "Character of Dogs" makes
the following cruel observation: "Hans Christian Andersen, as we
behold him in his startling memoirs, thrilling from top to toe with
an excruciating vanity and scouting even along the streets for the
shadows of offence--here was the talking dog."--Memories and
Portraits, p. 196.
The same feminine sentimentality which, in spite of its picturesqueness,
makes "The Improvisatore" unpalatable to many readers, is still more
glaringly exhibited in "O. T." and "The Two Baronesses." In "The Story
of My Life" the same quality asserts itself on every page in the most
unpleasant manner. The author makes no effort to excite the reader's
admiration, but he makes constant appeals to his sympathy. Nevertheless
this autobiography rivals in historic and poetic worth Rousseau's
"Confessions" and Benvenuto Cellini's "Life.
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