Happy is the rosarian who is free to choose the spot in which to make his rose garden—to choose the ideal position, with ideal soil, in an ideal climate. Such fortuitous combinations are possible. But though they do not fall to the lot of one rose-lover in a hundred, it is still easy to find a bit of ground in which roses will flourish; for, with proper care, there are few localities—in England at all events—where they cannot be made to grow. At the same time, in choosing the position of our rose garden, certain dangers must be guarded against, as far as possible.

Position.—First of all I would say, avoid a draughty spot; for nothing is so bad for roses as a draught. Even an exposed garden, if it is quite flat and open, is preferable to a draughty one, however picturesquely shaded it may be. The perfect position should be sheltered from the north and east: but not closely surrounded by trees. For roses are lovers of light and sun; and while they enjoy a little shade for a few hours in the day, they will not flourish in stuffy, closely shadowed places, where they cannot get enough light and air.

Shelter.—If some sort of shelter is absolutely imperative, there are various ways of producing it without putting up an unsightly paling, or building a costly wall in the garden. One of the best is a low hedge kept closely clipped, of yew, holly, privet, or beech—the first is, of course, slow in growth. Care, however, must be taken to plant the hedge at such a distance from the rose beds that its roots shall not suck all the nourishment from them. But nothing is more charming or suitable than to give the choice and more tender roses a shelter of roses—planting the strong-growing Wichuraianas, Ramblers and other vigorous kinds along a screen of wooden lattice-work. This not only makes a quite sufficient break to the wind, but forms a delightful background to the beds of dwarf roses.

If possible, the ground should slope very gently to south and west. Flat ground is preferable to any slope steeper than one in fifty. But some slight fall is extremely advantageous, as it helps drainage.

Drainage.—This is another most important point to be considered. For whether the soil be light or heavy, it is absolutely essential that a rose garden should be well drained; as roses so deeply resent wet about the roots, that they promptly show their displeasure by dying. If, therefore, on low-lying land—and unfortunately we cannot always avoid this—there is any suspicion of water within three feet of the surface, broken crocks, clinkers, wood ashes, and such-like materials, must be placed at the bottom of the beds to keep the subsoil free in times of heavy rain and floods; and a good drain of ordinary field pipes must be run from the beds into the nearest ditch. For let it be remembered that if we intend to grow good roses, we must be prepared to do our very best for them, and to spend a little time, a little money, and a good deal of thought, on preparing the ground they are to grow in, before we dream of planting them. Far better to begin our garden with a dozen roses well planted in properly prepared ground, than with a hundred put in anywhere and anyhow.

This brings us to the next point—

The Soil,—which is far more important than even the position of our garden. If we are so lucky as to be able to choose the soil as well as the position, then let us choose a rich brown loam; for that is the soil roses revel in and need but little else to nourish them. Such a soil as this we find in the famous rose-gardens of Essex, Hertfordshire, Oxfordshire, and Kent. I have even seen roses growing superbly, without manure of any kind, in an open field of this rich loam on one of the most exposed ridges of Warwickshire. But if such natural soil cannot be had, we must make it, as I know to my cost; for in my own garden the ground is so poor that every rose-bed has to be made three feet deep. And nothing in this case produces such excellent results as the top spit of an old pasture. To get this, the turf should be pared off carefully, and then the first nine inches of brown fibrous loam beneath taken out. If the space thus left is filled up with other common soil, the turf can be relaid, and no harm is done to the meadow. If, on the other hand, the turf is not needed in the same spot, it may be stacked in a heap—grass downward—and kept for a couple of years till it has rotted down completely; when, mixed with manure, it makes perfect potting soil, or the finest possible dressing for our rose beds. In the neighbourhood of towns and villages, where building is going on, this turfy loam is often to be had when new roads are cut out and houses run up. And it is well worth the rosarian's while to be on the watch for such opportunities, and secure a few loads of the top spit from the builder, to stack in the garden against the time it is needed.

Having provided the requisite soil, we are now ready to begin work by making the beds. The general arrangement of the garden, the shape and size of the beds has to be determined. And here, of course, the rosarian must be guided by his own taste. A few hints, however, from personal experience may be helpful. As to shape, that is purely a matter of taste. But whether they be round or square, straight or curved, in size they should not be too large or too wide to allow of our getting easily at their precious contents. For at all times of the year roses need constant and watchful care; and the amateur—especially if a woman, hampered with tiresome petticoats—must have space in which to move, in order to pick off caterpillars, cut the flowers whether alive or dead, and see to all the various needs of the plants, such as weeding, watering, manuring and pruning. As to width, I find five feet ample in a small garden; as that allows of three rows of dwarf plants eighteen inches to two feet apart; and enables me to reach those in the centre row without injuring the others.

Making the Beds.—Let us therefore suppose we are about to make a straight bed five feet wide and twelve long, in hitherto unbroken ground, to contain seventeen roses. The first thing to do is to pare off the turf. The top spit of some eight or nine inches below it, is sure to be fairly good soil from the fibrous roots of the grass and clover. We therefore dig it off a space three feet long and the whole width of the bed, and wheel it down to the further end. The second spit in such land as my own garden is much poorer, with a good deal of sandy marl in it. This is taken right out and heaped at the side of the bed, to be taken away later on. The third spit, which is now exposed, is a cold, sandy marl, with many stones.

We have therefore a hole five feet wide, a yard in length, and two feet deep. If the marl at the bottom does not show any sign of water, it may be broken up with the fork, mixing in a little manure at the same time, and we can leave it as it is. If, on the other hand, it is full of water, some of it must be carted away, and crocks, stones, clinkers, wood ashes, and even bits of turf, grass downwards, put in below to drain it, as I have already said.

Bastard Trenching.—We then begin the regular process of bastard trenching, digging up the fourth foot of top soil, throwing it into the hole, mixing it with the broken marl and manure at the bottom, and then removing the second spit as directed above. This is done along the whole bed; and at the end we use some of the earth we wheeled down at the beginning, to fill the hole on the marl at the bottom.

We thus have a bed five feet by twelve, but some fifteen inches below the ground. Over the surface of this bed we now spread a coating of good rotten manure; if we can get it from a cow yard so much the better, as cow manure is cooler than horse droppings to the roots of the roses. This must be thoroughly incorporated with the soil already dug in, with a fork, not a spade, as our object is to keep the earth as friable as we can. The bed is then filled up with nothing but the turfy loam mixed with some of the best of the surface soil, till it rises a little above the level of the surrounding ground; for it will be sure to sink.

But let no one imagine that this bed is ready for planting. It must be left for at least a fortnight (a month is better) to settle, and to mellow and sweeten; while its surface must be left quite rough to aid the process. If there is a frost during this settling, that will do it the greatest possible good.

Let the amateur avoid all artificial manures at first save a dusting of basic slag (see Chap. XI); for there is no need whatever in preparing a new rose bed to use any manure except sweet stable and cow manure. This contains all the qualities needful for newly-planted roses. It should, however, be so worked into the soil as not to come into actual contact with their roots, but to lie some two or three inches below them.

I have, of course, chosen an extreme case here. Better ground only needs to be thoroughly dug two spits deep, with manure and fibrous loam worked in. But, even so, I always think it is advantageous to break the ground at the bottom with a fork.

PLANTING.

When the beds are thoroughly prepared and settled, we may begin to think about planting them.

The ideal time for this operation is in November and December. For the plants, lifted as soon as they have done flowering, and put in their new quarters with as little delay as possible, have time to settle down before any very severe weather, and suffer far less than those planted later in the winter. But roses can be safely planted, if proper precautions are taken in the process, as late as February and March—open weather of course being selected for the process; and I have indeed planted them late in April without damage: but that was of course taking a big risk as a matter of necessity.

Whether we get our roses from British or from foreign growers, the orders should be sent out as early as possible in September and October, to secure the best plants and to ensure their arrival in good time.

A mild day, if possible without sun, is best for planting roses. And if the bundles arrive in a frost it is better not to attempt to open them, but to put them just as they are into some outbuilding in which the frost cannot get at them, where they may safely stay for several days.

Unpacking.—When they arrive, the bundles must be opened most carefully, and the packing removed gently. I have seen valuable roses badly broken by a careless person, who has pulled them roughly out of the package instead of quietly disentangling the shoots. If the journey has been a long one, the plants should be well syringed at once, and the roots plunged in a bucket of water for half-an-hour before planting. Great care must also be taken in every case not to leave the roots of the plants exposed to the air; for if the roots get dried up, a great and sometimes fatal check is given to the rose. Those which cannot be planted immediately should be laid along a trench and lightly heeled in with soil, until they are wanted. And even those which are to be planted immediately, should have a mat thrown over the roots as they lie beside the bed waiting their turn, especially if the day is sunny or the wind cold. Many of the great growers advise dipping the roots in liquid mud mixed with a little cow manure before planting.

Each plant must now be carefully examined, and any broken shoot, or bruised and broken root, cut off with a clean cut. For this I prefer a sÉcateur to a knife, if the sÉcateur is a very sharp one.[1] A torn, bruised, or broken root, if left on the plant will decay right up and do incalculable mischief. Sometimes, in the case of one's own roses grown from cuttings out of doors, the roots are so rampant that it is well to shorten them before replanting; but this is not often necessary with new stock from the growers.

The holes must now be dug ready for the reception of each plant. In well-worked ground, such as the new bed described above, a hole eighteen inches across and eight inches to one foot in depth, is sufficient: but in this we must be guided by the root habit of each plant. Some have roots of a spreading nature; others are deep rooting. And the idiosyncrasy of each individual rose must be studied, if we wish it to be happy. In an old bed it is well to break the ground all about the hole with a fork; as the roots can then penetrate the surrounding soil with ease. And I would repeat that when the hole is made ready for its occupant, we should see that no manure is on the surface upon which the roots will lie.

Planting, to be well done, needs two persons.

When all is ready, the plant, held in the left hand, is set exactly in the centre of the hole, while with the right the roots are spread out flat in all directions, so that none are bent or twisted or allowed to cross, but are so arranged that the rose gets proper support on all sides. In fact they should be regarded as the guy-ropes of a flagstaff, intended to hold the plant firm from all points. If a root is too long to lie at its full length in the hole, instead of trying to fit it in against its natural inclination by turning it round the side of the hole, a further little channel must be dug in which it can lie perfectly flat. And great care must be taken not to injure the little white, fibrous rootlets, which mean flowering strength for the coming season.

The collar, or point at which the dwarf rose is budded on to the briar, should be from one to three inches below the surface of the soil when the planting is completed. In newly made ground I prefer three inches, as the soil always sinks a little. This is enough; for the plant should never be buried, and the roots should be kept as near the surface as possible. But if the collar is above the ground, the stock begins to throw suckers which take all its strength, and the scion perishes.

When the rose is properly set out and still held firmly in position, the second planter sprinkles some fine good soil among the roots—I generally give the plant a little gentle lifting shake at this point, to allow the fine earth to fall into all the interstices of the roots. He then fills up the hole gradually, pressing down the soil firmly at first with the hand, and when all is on treading it down with the foot, thus making the plant absolutely firm in its place before number one lets go his hold on it.

If their roots have been thoroughly soaked and swelled before planting, the roses need not be watered. But if the weather is dry, yet mild, it is well to give them a good syringing when they are all in place, especially if they have come a long journey. This, however, must be done in the forenoon, to allow them to dry before any chance of a chill during the night.

In the case of standards, large bushy plants, or pillar roses, a stake should be put against them before the hole is filled with earth. This is far the most satisfactory plan, as it avoids the chance of bruising or breaking the roots if the stake is forced in among them after planting. And, as I have said, the more fine fibrous roots the plant can throw, the better the flowers it will bring.

Tarred twine, or Raffia tape, are the best materials for tying standard and pillar roses. The twine should be given a double twist round the stake and then tied firmly round the stem, but not too tight, so as to allow room for the stem or branch to swell.

Under no circumstances must wire be used.

In the case of roses taken out of pots, the question of spreading the roots is one of the utmost importance; as, if they have been long in a pot the roots are interlaced in a perfect ball, and need most careful handling to avoid breaking them.

When all are safely in place, the tickets must be taken off and replaced by labels stuck in the ground beside each plant.[2] Many roses, especially from abroad, come with labels fastened on with wire. These should be removed without delay; for the moment the shoots begin to swell the wire eats into them, and in the course of a few months will either kill the shoot or break it. This is a most important matter. And I have had sad experience in it; as owing to carelessness and hurry in planting a number of extremely good French roses, I overlooked some of the wired labels. Eight months later, half—and the larger half—of a fine plant in full flower of the dwarf Polyantha, Perle des Rouges, was broken off on a windy day; and on examination I found that the stem had swelled to such a size round the corroding wire, that the weight it was bearing of foliage, flowers, and branches had broken it clean off. Even a label tied on with a string is injurious, from the constant chafing of the bark as the wind blows it to and fro and tightens the knot.

Our heavy task being now accomplished, we can await the rigours of winter cheerfully. But let no one persuade us that the newly planted beds would look better if raked smooth instead of being left quite rough. A smooth rose bed means that the soil cakes hard, preventing the rain penetrating in summer, and the frost mellowing the ground in winter. And from early spring to late autumn the hoe should be kept constantly at work between the plants; not merely to keep down weeds, but to keep the surface of the ground open to the influences of rain, sun, and the watering-pot.