was fortunate in finding purchasers for them. ‘The Interior of a Volunteers Cottage’ was the subject of one; some ‘Clowns dancing in an Alehouse' that of another. In 1809 he sent to the Royal Academy a picture called ‘Good News,' which at once made known his name, and established it. This was followed 'by other successful works-‘Choristers rehearsing,’ and the ‘Will.’ In 1812 he was made an associate of the Academy. Both in his early development and late departures, the history of Bird, as an artist, is curiously like that of Wilkie, and, although the genius of the latter was incoznparably greater, Bird had yet talent enough to suggest to some interested people that he might be made to rival the too popular Scotchman. Of this little intrigue got up against Wilkie, in which Bird, it should be said, was innocent of playing a part, an interesting account is preserved in Haydon's ‘Journals’ (i, 142, 1st ed. 1853). After his election to the honours of the Academy, and under some delusion as to the quality of his genius, Bird turned his attention to religious and historical subiects. He painted successively the ‘Surrender of Calais,’ the ‘Death of Eli,’ and the ‘Field of Chevy Chase.’ The last of these is esteemed his greatest work. It was bought by the Marquis of Stafford for three hundred guineas; the original sketch for the same was sold to Sir Walter Scott. That this was indeed a powerful picture can be best understood by those acquainted with the fact that it moved Allan Cunningham to tears. The Marquis of Stafford also bought the ‘Death of Eli’ for five hundred guineas. The British Institution awarded the painter its premium of three hundred guineas in respect of this picture. In 1815 he was elected a full member of the Royal Academy. In the following three ears he exhibited the ‘Crucifixion,’ ‘Christ led to be crucified,’ the ‘Death of Sapphira,’ and the ‘Burning of Bishops Ridley and Lattimer.’ The ‘Chevy Chase’ procured for him the appointment of court painter to Queen Charlotte. His last historical work was the ‘Embarcation of the French King.’ For the completion of this painting many contemporary portraits were required, and, according to Cunningham's account, the painter’s health was broken by the scant courtesy he received in his efforts to get them. The death of a son and daughter increased his trouble. His spirits forsook him, and he died. He was buried in cloisters of Bristol Cathedral November 1819.
He was properly a genre painter, only occasionally and partially successful in other departments of art. Upon such paintings as the ‘Good News,’ the ‘Country Auction,’ the ‘Gipsy Boy,’ and others of this class, his reputation depends. ‘He showed great skill in the conception of his higher class pictures, but he had not the power suited to their completion, and his colouring was crude and tasteless.’
[Gent Mag. vol. lxxxix, pt. ii.; Life of B. R. Haydon, 1853; Cunninghan's Lives of British Painters; Pilkington’s Dictionary of Artists; Redgrave’s Dict. of Artists of Eng. School; Catalogue of Works of Ed. Bird exhibited the year after his death at Bristol; Brit. Mus. Gen. Cat. sub cap. ‘Bird.’]
BIRD, FRANCIS (1667–1731), sculptor, was born in Piccadilly. He was sent when eleven years old to Brussels, and there studied (Walpole) under one Cozins, a sculptor who had been in England. From Flanders he found his way, on foot it is said, to Rome, and worked under Le Gros. At nineteen, ‘scarce remembering his own language,’ he came home, and studied under Gibbons and Cibber. Redgrave gives 1716 as the date of his return, which seems, however, to be a mistake. After another short journey to Rome, performed also on foot, he succeeded to Cibber’s practice and set up for himself. The work which raised his reputation, and which alone maintains it now, was the statue of Dr. Busby for Westminster Abbey. Though not in itself superexcellent, it is yet a marvel of art if we compare it only with other works by the same hand. Bird secured the favour of Christopher Wren, and was largely employed upon the decoration of St. Paul’s. He executed the group thr the pediment of the west end, ‘The Conversion of St. Paul,’ of which Horace Walpole remarks: ‘Any statuary was good enough for an ornament at that height, and a great statuary had been too good.’ The same observation applies to the five figures of apostles which maybe dimly descried upon the roof of either transept. For the statue of Queen Anne which confronts Ludgate Hill Bird received 1,130l. A public statue in London needs to be very
bad to attract to its demerits any special attention. The fact, therefore, that our public took peculiar delight in mutilating this group may be attributed rather to the advantage of its position than to its undoubted meanness as a piece of art. It was removed in 1885, and is to be replaced. His monument of Sir Clowdisley Shovell in Westminster Abbey is one of the worst works in the world. It was to this that Pope applied the epithet ‘the bathos of sculpture.’ His work, Nagler says, is barbarous in style and devoid of any charm. He was, however, for a long period at the head of his profession
