180 'BURNHAM BEECHES'
by Myles Birket Foster (1825-99)

This painting of the rich golden autumn at Burnham, seems at first sight almost self-explanatory. However, I hope these few observations might further enhance such a magnificent panoply. All around us, above, below and beyond, this all-encompassing scene represents the last moments of nostalgic beauty where the beech leaves, from their dark summer cladding, turn colour, - and our attention dramatically. The place which more than 100 years on, still holds our awe and seems to cast a lasting spell on all who visit. Burnham village lies only half an hour from London, (Windsor/Maidenhead), and has to be seen to be believed.

The vast beech wood is majestic in its power over us. In holding our respect for its sheer mightiness, it likens itself to a sanctuary where we feel obliged to lower our voices in its presence. During each high Summer, in it's own way the beech wood is similar to visiting an ancient and echoing cathedral, -its dark mantle high above is pierced by occasional straight shafts of sunlight. Does this natural place possess properties of a shrine, where deeper thoughts pervade our minds? Certainly we are humbled by it, and while privileged witnesses, our brief lives are a mere blip in it's long and ancient history. But this is another more stunning robe the famous beech wood portrays, before shedding its cover altogether.

Here, the rustling of the October breeze through the dry foliage is likened to a whisper from above.....Are the trees telling us something? .....Or are they listening to us? Our inadequate reply is satisfyingly redressed through the joy of the swishing sounds underfoot, as we traipse through the deep crunchy scattering of fallen leaves. Oh! what simple pleasures there are for those fortunate enough to experience them.

The two little girls in the painting are bending down, engrossed in their task. But what have they found that is so interesting? Since time began, as each generation learns from the one before, they are gathering the edible beech nuts which lie in profusion beneath the golden debris.

These pollarded trunks are so old, some may go back to when Henry VIII was a young prince. Near to Windsor, this location would have been popular amongst the migrant fauna foraging for the fresh falls of Autumn beech nuts. Normally the woods offered little foliage for the larger timid mammals and their young to eat. The leaves are nutrient-poor litter for anything else to grow on, leaving a wide expanse of bare flooring during the remainder of each long year. Burnham Beeches displays a dramatic contrast to all other deciduous woods, apart from the brief golden episode which they all share.

Myles Birket Foster was born in North Shields but was taken to London by his family when he was only five. At 16 he was apprenticed a leading wood engraver, Ebenezer Landells who had been a pupil of Bewick. In 1846 he became independent, illustrating books and pieces for the Illustrated London News. About thirteen years later, he concentrated on painting following his first exhibition at the R.A. in 1859.
His output was prolific, exhibiting over 400 pieces at the OWS and RWS as well as the R.A. He made many visits to the continent. In 1863 he built a house at Whitley, near Godalming in Surrey. Much of the subject matter from his subsequent work was taken from the local rural surroundings and nearby village life.