onal appearance Canova was not grand or very attractive. His head
was remarkably well placed upon his shoulders, and the loose manner in
which he dressed his neck allowed this to be seen; his forehead was a
noble one, his hair black, and his whole manner and dress was modest and
simple. His habits were very orderly and quiet; he rose early to work,
and went little into public society; but he welcomed a few friends to
dinner almost daily. He entertained them cordially, but without display,
and led the conversation to light, cheerful topics that did not touch
upon art, or demand mental exertion. At eleven o'clock he retired to his
own room and amused himself with a book or pencil before sleeping. Some
of his best drawings were made at this hour, and have been published
with the title of "Pensieri," or thoughts. To describe one day was to
give a picture of all, so regular were his habits of life.

In his professional life he was just and generous to others, and though
he would have no pupils, he would leave everything to advise an artist
or visit his works. He was also a patron of art, and had executed, at
his own expense, the numerous busts of distinguished persons in the
Capitoline Museum.

[Illustration: FIG. 116.--HEBE. _By Canova._]

There is a story of a romance in his life. It is said that when he first
arrived in Venice he fell in love with a beautiful girl who was older
than himself, who went to draw in the Farsetti Gallery. Day by day he
watched her until she came no more; at length her attendant returned,
and Canova inquired for her mistress; she burst into tears and answered,
"La Signora Julia is dead." He asked no more, and never knew who Julia
was or any circumstances of her history; but all his life he treasured
her image, and when he endeavored to unite the purity of an angel with
the earthly beauty of a woman, the remembrance of Julia was always in
his mind.

Canova was one of the few artists who received their full merit of
praise and the benefits of their labors while alive. Without doubt he
was a great sculptor, and coming as he did, at a time when art was at
its worst, he seemed all the more remarkable to the men around him. But
the verdict of to-day would not exalt him as highly as did his friends
and patrons. His statues lack the repose which makes the grandest
feature of the best sculpture; his female figures have a sentimental
sort of air that is not all we could wish, and does not elevate them