"Won't you come into the garden? I would like my roses to see you."
These words, penned by playwright Richard Brinsley Sheridan when he owned Polesden Lacey in 1797, still echo through the Surrey Hills. On a promising morning last June, I answered that invitation, arriving by train and taxi from London with notebook in hand and camera at the ready. What unfolded was not merely a garden visit, but a conversation between centuries of rose cultivation.
Through the Gates
The approach to Polesden Lacey's rose garden builds anticipation deliberately. From the stable courtyard - now transformed into a welcoming café and reception area - I followed the Lime Walk past a charming secondhand bookshop tucked against the main house. The temptation to browse for old gardening volumes proved strong, but the morning light called me onwards through the pet cemetery (a touching Edwardian detail) and the Ladies' Garden with its composed statuary.
Then came that first glimpse through elegant metal gates, where Rosa 'Rambling Rector' cascaded in white profusion - a proper introduction to what lay beyond. This is how a rose garden should announce itself: not with fanfare, but with the quiet confidence of beauty well-established.
The Architecture of the Rose Garden
Margaret Greville, that formidable Edwardian hostess who transformed Polesden Lacey from 1906 onwards, understood something fundamental about rose gardens. They require structure to contain their exuberance. Her decision to convert the Victorian kitchen garden (sensibly relocated beyond the thatched bridge) created an enclosed world where roses could reign supreme.
The formal cross-shaped layout, executed by J. Cheal & Sons, provides the bones that every successful rose garden needs. Sweet chestnut pergolas, weathered to that particular silver-grey that only English gardens achieve, create romantic tunnels draped with cascading blooms - 'Dorothy Perkins' mingling with 'Albertine', 'New Dawn' threading through 'Veilchenblau'. Box edging contains the enthusiasm of some 2,000 roses without constraining their spirit.
At the garden's heart stands a 14th-century Venetian wellhead from the Palazzo Morosini Sagredo, its motto "When God Pleases" speaking to both patience and providence - virtues any rose grower understands intimately.
A Census of Beauty
Armed with the management team's planting map (generously shared, though I discovered it captured only part of the story), I set about documenting this remarkable collection. The formal beds burst with the reliable showmanship of floribundas and hybrid teas. Rosa 'Frensham' burned scarlet against the softer tones of 'Pink Parfait'. The legendary 'Just Joey', with those ruffled apricot petals that have captivated gardeners since 1972, held court among newer introductions like 'A Whiter Shade of Pale'.
But it was the hybrid musks that truly captured the Edwardian spirit Greville would have known. 'Cornelia', 'Felicia', 'Penelope', 'Buff Beauty' - these are roses that understand their role in a garden, providing not just individual blooms but entire compositions of flower, fragrance, and form. Graham Stuart Thomas, who enriched these borders in the 1970s and 80s, chose wisely when he preserved these varieties here.
The pergolas dripped with ramblers that read like a roll call of early twentieth-century breeding: 'Albertine' (1921) offering its salmon-pink abundance, 'Dorothy Perkins' (1901) in sugar-pink clusters, the purple curiosity of 'Veilchenblau' (1909). Only 'Crimson Shower' (1951) post-dates Mrs Greville's era - a respectful addition that doesn't disturb the garden's temporal harmony.
The outer borders harbour treasures that reward the curious. Species roses and their near relatives - Rosa glauca with its purple-tinged foliage, the ferny delicacy of Rosa sericea pteracantha, the buttery yellow bells of 'Canary Bird' - remind us that not all roses need to be dressed in petticoats.
My own explorations, notebook increasingly crammed with observations, revealed roses the official map had overlooked. In sheltered corners and against sun-warmed walls, I found Rosa 'Stanwell Perpetual' (that indefatigable Scots rose), the striped medieval charm of Rosa Mundi, the sophisticated China rose 'Mutabilis' with its chameleon blooms shifting from yellow through pink to crimson.
Beyond the Walls
Here's what many visitors miss: the rose collection extends well beyond the walled garden's confines.
The double herbaceous borders yielded 'Lady Hillingdon' climbing in her distinctive tea-rose yellow. Near the relocated kitchen garden, I discovered the pièce de résistance: Rosa 'Margaret Greville' herself, named for the garden's creator. This Peter Beales Roses introduction, with its deep pink rosettes, serves as a living memorial more fitting than any stone monument.
The Kitchen Garden & Cut Flowers Garden, where this namesake rose grows, rewards those who venture beyond the main rose garden's gates. Here too stands a charming cottage, its walls clothed in white climbing roses that cascade like bridal veils. Beside it, a substantial bush of what appears to be a wild rose species catches the eye—simple five-petalled blooms in the palest pink, so delicate they could be mistaken for white in certain lights. Though the cottage itself remains closed to visitors, this vignette of architectural and horticultural harmony can be admired from just metres away.
The Intelligence of Maintenance
What strikes the informed visitor is not just the collection's breadth but its evident health. The National Trust gardeners maintain these roses with thoughtful precision, understanding that each variety has its own requirements and rhythms. The soil remains rich and well-tended, the pruning expertly timed, the balance between order and abundance carefully judged.
A restoration project for the historic pergola is currently being planned, with donations being raised to preserve this crucial architectural element that has supported climbing roses for over a century. One hopes that any future developments will respect the garden's essential character - this is, after all, a rose garden first and foremost. While companion planting has its merits, the roses must remain the stars of this particular show. Margaret Greville understood this, and the garden's continued success depends on maintaining that clarity of vision.
This isn't preservation in amber but evolution with respect. The garden that Greville created for her weekend parties - where roses provided both talking points and tactical screening for private conversations - continues to adapt while maintaining its essential character.
The Practical Pilgrimage
For those planning their own visit, some intelligence from the field: arrive early, as I did, when morning light still catches the dew and other visitors remain sparse. The journey from London proves surprisingly manageable - train to the local station, then taxi/Uber through the Surrey lanes. Mobile phone signal wavers uncertainly inside the garden grounds (both O2 and EE proved temperamental during my visit), but the staff understand this rural quirk and readily assist with wifi access or taxi arrangements.
Allow time beyond the rose garden. The winter garden conceals Rosa 'Roald Dahl' among other gems. The garden cottage, though not open to visitors, wears a mantle of climbing roses worth admiring from the permitted distance. Even the secondhand bookshop, which I finally visited after exhausting my rose census, yielded vintage David Austin volumes that provided perfect train reading for the journey home.
A Garden's Continuing Story
Standing in the centre of the rose garden as afternoon light slanted through the pergolas, I understood why this space endures. It's not merely a collection, however comprehensive, nor simply a historical artifact, however well preserved. It's a living argument for the civilising power of horticulture, where roses from centuries and continents converse in a language of scent and colour.
Margaret Greville, who entertained everyone from Edward VII to Churchill among these roses, created more than a garden. She created a stage where roses perform their annual drama of growth, bloom, and dormancy - a drama that continues long after the original audience has departed.
For the rose lover, Polesden Lacey offers both pilgrimage site and practical education. Here, one can study how different rose classes complement each other, how structure supports exuberance, how historical varieties and modern introductions can share space without discord. The garden's message, written in petals and thorns, remains clear: roses, properly chosen and thoughtfully placed, create their own particular paradise.
The motto on that Venetian wellhead - "When God Pleases" - might serve as every rose gardener's creed. We plant, we prune, we hope. Sometimes, as at Polesden Lacey on a June morning with 'Rambling Rector' in full voice and 'Just Joey' glowing like captured sunlight, we're granted a glimpse of perfection. That's worth any journey.
