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Cemetery Roses Live On
by Teri Tillman
Roses and cemeteries have a centuries-long association, dating back to the earliest days of Christianity, when roses were carved on the tombstones of martyrs as a symbol of the Resurrection and divine mercy. While delicately carved roses can still be seen on an occasional headstone, the most beautiful roses found at cemeteries today are those planted long ago by unknown hands. Old cemeteries have become valuable repositories of long-forgotten antique rose varieties. With little or no care, these hardy shrubs have withstood decades of blackspot and mildew, aphid and beetle attacks, freezes and drought. And they've withstood all these onslaughts without the benefit of any of the chemical weapons usually found in the modern rosarian's arsenal.
A few minutes from my home in historic downtown Natchez, Mississippi, lies just such a cemetery full of old garden roses—some of which are believed to be more than a hundred years old. Established in 1824, the Natchez City Cemetery consists of more than 90 acres of gently rolling land overlooking the steep bluffs of the Mississippi River. Outstanding marble monuments and exquisitely detailed cast-iron fences have earned it a place on the National Register of Historic Places. Its varied collection of old garden roses, including species roses, chinas, teas, Noisettes, Bourbons and polyanthas, has attracted the attention of old-rose fanciers from around the country.
Although cemetery roses like 'Safrano' have survived decades of neglect,
they are now threatened with extinction by weedeaters and riding mowers.
Photo © Stephen Scanniello
Protecting this collection of heritage roses has become a project for a few volunteers from the local Garden Club of America, who have embarked on an ambitious program to prune and protect all the surviving cemetery roses. Although these horticultural treasures have survived decades of neglect, in recent years new enemies have appeared that threaten to render cemetery roses extinct: humans and their machines. One misdirected swing of a weedeater or one careless pass of a riding mower can wipe out decades of growth and horticultural history.
A scraggly specimen of 'Old Blush' a few feet from Rosalie Beekman's grave was the target of our initial efforts. Seven-year-old Rosalie earned her place in Natchez history when she became the only casualty of a naval bombardment in Natchez-Under-the-Hill in 1863. Today Rosalie's rosebush is once again thriving, thanks to a double layer of weed-cloth and a 4-foot square, 2-inch thick layer of pine bark mulch. Straight lines, square corners and generous amounts of mulch (plus an upside-down tomato cage over new plants) seem to be the key to keeping the weedeaters at bay.
With the permission of the cemetery board, we have also undertaken a limited propagation program, focusing on those roses whose identities are unknown ("mystery" roses), or those whose long-term survival is in jeopardy, such as a 'Marie PaviŽ' growing in the shade of a large pecan tree. One mystery rose at the cemetery, believed to be the same as "Spice," a mystery rose from Bermuda, has been propagated and planted at the grave of a young woman known only as Louise. Many years ago Louise came up to Natchez from New Orleans to marry a local man. When the marriage plans fell through, Louise resorted to earning her living as a prostitute and succumbed to an unknown illness. She would have been buried in a pauper's grave but for the sympathy of a local minister who paid for her burial. Today, a mystery rose marks the grave of this mystery woman whose headstone reads simply, "Louise the Unfortunate."
Last year the Heritage Rose Foundation initiated another phase of our preservation program when it planted ten heritage roses at the cemetery to replace some of those lost over the years. One of these grows next to Florence Irene Ford's grave. Only ten years old when she died, Florence had always been terribly afraid of thunderstorms. Her parents, frantic with worry about their daughter even after her death, devised a way to keep her company during stormy weather. Behind her headstone a heavy metal door opens up to a flight of steps that descend 6 feet into the earth. The steps terminate abruptly at a solid (once transparent) wall. Every stormy night for as long as they lived, Florence's parents rode out to the cemetery, climbed down the steps and sat out the storm with their daughter. Today an 'Archduke Charles' commemorates Florence's untimely death and her parents' devotion.
Natchez, perhaps more than most old southern towns, has worked hard to preserve its historical identity. Although the efforts have focused so far primarily on the city's architecture, I believe that future conservation efforts will expand to include our horticultural heritage. Many of the glorious gardens of Natchez have vanished without a trace, but a hint of their beauty remains in the collection of antique roses at the City Cemetery. By protecting, propagating and replacing the old roses at the graveyard, we hope to perpetuate the ancient tradition of tombs adorned with roses while preserving a unique part of our community's horticultural history.
Teri Tillman grows old roses, wildflowers and native plants around her restored 1840s home in Natchez, Mississippi.