Types of repeat-flowering in roses

General Discussion
41

Sure, plants were and are sometimes propagated by seeds, but that doesn’t have much direct relevance in this case, except that we might not have hybrids like the Damasks or the Noisettes if it weren’t for occasional human seed propagation and seedling selection events. The written history of the musk rose in Western Europe and its colonies suggests a genetically narrow initial introduction before the year 1600, and the true species was even nearly lost for a time before its relatively recent rediscovery in old gardens and cemeteries on both sides of the Atlantic. Most likely any seedlings of an isolated clone of a foreign diploid species that were not substantially true-to-type would either have been renamed if they had value or discarded if they were inferior, and if seedling events were common and the genetic base were wide, there would probably be significant diversity detected in the extant cultivated material today.

Luckily, researchers can compare DNA samples of extant R. moschata clones with one another along with their historic hybrids and learn much more, and they have. The clones of R. moschata tested in the Florida study included the one from Graham Thomas, which he had rediscovered at the home of E. A. Bowles, and two others also found growing in England. Since the species had gone out of favor (and even became confused with R. brunonii) and become rare in gardens for so many decades, these lately rediscovered remnants had extra significance–they were relics of a bygone era, one probably also much closer to the time the species was first officially named in 1762. It matters that the rediscovered R. moschata has been demonstrated to be the likely parent of ‘Champneys’ Pink Cluster’, one of the main reasons we are even talking about musk roses right now. The R. moschata clone that was found by Iwata et al. to be closest to the species origins of the ancient Damask rose (‘Kazanlik’, ‘Autumn Damask’, ‘York and Lancaster’, and ‘Quatre Saisons Blanc Mousseux’, which were themselves genetically indistinguishable) differed only slightly (one base pair) from the double musk rose that they tested, so while the parent clone of the Damask and the double musk might not be completely identical clones, they are still very nearly identical. I also don’t believe that no one ever raised Damask roses from seed, or credibly claimed that it wasn’t and couldn’t be done–it’s obvious that there would not be the overall diversity of clones today otherwise. It’s only true that various early Damask clones did indeed arise as sports, including the four that were found to have nearly identical DNA sequences in the Iwata et al. study: ‘Autumn Damask’, ‘York and Lancaster’, ‘Quatre Saisons Blanc Mousseux’, and ‘Kazanlik’. Whether additional Damask cultivars arose from seed or from sporting events, all true Damask roses must still share the same species ancestors, now understood to be R. moschata, R. gallica, and R. fedtschenkoana. If any rose contain more or fewer species than the type of the species, given this realization, then taxonomically, it doesn’t actually belong in R. x damascena. It’s something else.

It seems that there is still some fixation on references earlier (1728) than Herrmann’s, but that is largely irrelevant to the identity of the species. Hermann did include the single musk in his treatment, by the way–he lists “R. moschata minor, flore simplici” as included in his species concept, and simply says that he had not seen the single form (“Simplicem non vidi.”) It is implied that the single musk was only expected to differ meaningfully in the number of petals, or some other minor trait or traits. The precise clone that might have served as the model of R. moschata is also somewhat tangential to its overall identity at this point, again because we are discussing a species and not a cultivar (but, I would ask, why would this supposed shining-leaved musk rose that everyone was talking about have disappeared from cultivation, while the matte-leaved variety has persisted in such far-flung regions of the world? Does the existence or nonexistence of a glossy-leaved musk rose even meaningfully change the rest of the story?). If a glossy-leaved clone of R. moschata ever existed, there is certainly no widespread physical evidence of it now, and it doubtfully played any serious role in the background of important hybrids like the Noisettes or Damasks, given the DNA results. Its known hybrids are not exactly glossy-leaved themselves, so the trait (if it ever existed) clearly didn’t impact them meaningfully. We don’t know for certain that Bradley in 1728 was even talking about the same species as Herrmann, either. It would be a familiar kind of origin for a myth, though: all it takes is one person to write about a glossy-leaved musk rose, and countless others will repeat the earlier reference without even having seen the plant described.

42

Im wholly uninterested in arguing with anyone, but I can add that Heirloom’s clone of Rosa moschata that they sold has grey, downy foliage. It never had disease and the bees loved it. For some odd reason they planted it in the center of the main modern display away from the species, OGRs, ramblers, and large shrubs. I probably would not have remembered it so much had the placement not been so odd. Knowing Heirlooms, it was probably a clone from the UK, since most of their roses came from there. Perhaps it was there because it bloomed later. The unique HT collection was on one side of it, like Gallivarda, and on the other side was their scented HT collection, like Ophelia and Typhoo Tea.

I once grew Lavender Dream, which is bred out of Nastrana, which is supposedly “Rosa chinensis Jacq. × Rosa moschata Herrm.” LD was what I called a junk rose at the time. Perpetually defoliated, unlike the Rosa moschata clone at Heirlooms that didn’t even have a smidge of blight on the canes. It is hard to verify what the breeders actually used in their roses in the 1800s. Some of the hybridizers have some super wild listings that go on forever. Seemed like chaos. We can justify some rational with some studies here and there (a lot of roses out of Old Blush and varies species have been studied), but its truly hard to say what is what.

43

I assume with Eglantine you mean the Sweet briar (R. rubiginosa). I’d say the leaves are about the same size as the ones on R. moschata, maybe a little smaller, but not much. Sweet briar is can vary a lot in appearance in the wild, it hybridizes easily with R. canina. They’re hard to keep apart, without smelling the leaves.

44

I checked my translation of Herrmann’s description of the leaves of R. moschata and found that “superiori atro-viridia, splendentia, glabra” does translate as “upper dark-green, shining, smooth.” This agrees with earlier writers.

I still object to listing three names and examining only one to represent them all. Rosam moschatam majorem Ejusd. non vidi. is not the same species as the other two. It is likely a hybrid. It flowered earlier than the Musk roses, 5 o 7 petalst, white flushed pink, delicious perfume (not musk) and it did not continue flowering into Autumn. There is also a notable difference in the sepals.

This picture is from Lobel (that’s where Bauhin got the names and pictures).

It was Lindley (1820) who first described the leaves of R. moschata as “unpolished”. In the same work, he described the leaves of R. brunonii as “dull green”. For comparison, he called the leaves of Kamchatica “opaque”, while those of Ferox were “shining”. He also insisted that Ferox and Rugosa were definitely not the same.

I almost forgot: Lindley lumped Roxburgh’s Rosa glandulifera with R. moschata. Roxburgh’s plant had doubly-serrate leaves, while Lindley’s Moschata and Brunonii both had simply serrated leaaves. Despite this apparent difference, Rosburgh’s rose bloomed al .year.

45

We’ve already had a variant of this same argument in the other thread; I don’t agree that “splendentia” is the appropriate Latin word for Herrmann to have used if he really intended to communicate “shining” or “glossy” in the sense that you’re trying to say that he did. In reality, it is likely a different kind of “shining,” as in “bright, splendid, magnificent, beautiful,” rather than “bright, glossy, gleaming, reflective.” It is akin to the Latin word “splendens,” and when we find that used as an actual botanical epithet, it never means “shining” as in “glossy.” If Herrmann had intended that meaning, he probably would have used a different Latin word.

Just try reverse translating any of these from English into Latin, and you’ll see what I mean. For instance, plugging “shining” into Google’s translator gives the Latin word “lucens” instead. As synonyms, Google helpfully lists the following below (you’ll recognize a few of these from botanical Latin as well, I’m sure; a few are near-duplicates, but this should illustrate fairly well just how poor a choice “splendentia” would be for indicating “glossy” leaves):

nitens - sleek, bright, gleaming, greasy, shining, glowing

lucidus - lucid, bright, light, clear, fine, unshadowed

splendidus - splendid, bright, gorgeous, brilliant, glorious, magnificent

fulgidus - glittering, flashing, radiant, shining, dazzling

praefulgidus - shining, bright

nitidus - glossy, sleek, bright, handsome, clean, spruce

stellans - starry, starred, star-studded, stellular, stelliferous, brilliant

stellatus - starred, starry, sparkling, star-studded, stellular, stelliferous

micans - glittering, sparkling, flashing, gleaming, twinkling, shining

circumlucens - shining

radiosus - radiant, irradiative, aglare, aglisten, agleam, ashine

candidus - candid, white, bright, fair, radiant, shining


I agree that Herrmann was mistaken for including the “Rosam moschatem majorem” in synonymy without having seen any material, and I believe that other authors have pointed out that it was an incorrect assumption, but it would be an entirely different matter to take the position that the simple-flowered form should not be the same species as the double.

46

This might still not be satisfactory when splitting hairs about the meaning of the word “shining,” but in a glossary of botanical terms at the end of a botany manual by the elder James Lee citing Linnaeus (see below), splendentia (folia) is listed simply as “a shining leaf” while nitidum (folium) is listed as “a bright, shining, glossy leaf” or as “glossy, smooth, and shining,” and lucidum (folium) is listed as “clear, shining” or as “lucid, bright, reflecting light.” The pains taken to use additional words beyond just “shining” to further modify the meaning of these other words suggests that splendentia did not really mean a “glossy” type of “shining” as one might assume today, thinking of species like R. lucieae. Any sort of luster or luminosity might do. Not that it was the case here, but the usage of “splendentia” also seems to occur in descriptions of species with leaves that are also silver or white and not literally glossy (though they are “bright” in another sense), while you would generally not find “nitida” in that same association. Anyway:

https://www.google.com/books/edition/An_Introduction_to_Botany_Containing_an/CCdkAAAAcAAJ

47

I have checked some old (18th century) English dictionaries, and found that “shining” can mean “sheen” rather than “high gloss”. Saying that Rosa ferox (for instance) has “shining” leaves, while those of R. kamchatica are “opaque” may be useful as descriptions, but probably not helpful in defining species.

And on this topic, R. sempervirens was also described as having shining leaves. This brings me to another interesting puzzle directly related to the topic of Rebloom.

Redouté (vol. 2, p. 15) illustrated Rosa sempervirens globosa. This was just one of several “varieties” of the species. It was described as being a vigorous climber and nearly evergreen, but otherwise much like R. moschata. It bloomed year round, near Florence. It might be a hybrid of sempervirens and moschata, possibly of the second generation.

And this caught my eye because of another item, dealing with Rosa moschata var. korfuana. The discussion begins with a description of R. moschata that was naturalized on the island.

Rosa moschata> Miller wird im allgemeinen als Bewohnerin Nordafrikas und Südasiens betrachtet und für Europa ausgeschlossen. Es ist aber sicher, daß sie da und dort sporadisch am Mittelmeer heimisch vorkommt. Für Griechenland wurde sie lange geleugnet, sie ist aber in Korfu vorhanden und zwar wild, nicht bloß verwildert Es hat den Anschein, als ob man sie übersah, oder auch als immergrünen Strauch für > Rosa sempervirens> hielt.



Rosa moschata> Miller is generally considered to be a resident of North Africa and South Asia and excluded from Europe. It is certain, however, that it occurs sporadically here and there in the Mediterranean. For a long time it was denied for Greece, but it is present in Corfu and is wild, not just overgrown. It seems as if it was overlooked, or even as an evergreen shrub was mistaken for > Rosa sempervirens.

I can’t read German, and Google translate sometimes gives ambiguous renderings. Was Sprenger saying that R. moschata is evergreen over there?

In any case, it seems likely that one could breed some very vigorous, evergreen climbers (for mild climates) by crossing R. sempervirens with with R. moschata or Noisettes.

I think 1601 is a bit late for the introduction of R. moschata to western Europe. In fact, “western” may not be relevant. Conrad Gesner (in Valerius Cordus), 1561, listed the single and double Musks. Chabrée (1566) listed the two Musks, the blush Major, as well as the Dutch Centifolia, Both authors were Swiss, and Switzerland is just “upstairs” from Italy. That’s East. But despite geography, Italy was “connected” to Spain by marriage and political connections.

Alessandro Farnese was descended from Pope Paul III (also named Alessandro Farnese) on his father’s side, and from Habsburg emperor Charles V on his mother’s. He was born in Italy, raised in Spain, became Regent of the Netherlands, and died in France. I don’t see any evidence that he liked plants, but the Pope (when he was still a cardinal) built what was probably the first private botanical garden, aviary, and so on: Horti Farnesiani. Cardinal Odoardo Farnese (second son of the younger Alessandro) was in control of the garden when the famous book, Hortus Farnesianus (1625) was published. (No roses mentioned in it, though.)

Whether a Farnese was directly involved, there was certainly opportunity in the comings-and-goings for The Spanish Muske Rose, and The great double Damaske Province or Holland Rose to be known to Italy’s upstairs neighbors.

48

I believe you’re right about the earlier introduction date for Rosa moschata; I would need to dig around for the reference I’m remembering, but I seem to recall reading that it was introduced from the Middle East (Persia?) to Paris in the 1500s.

An extended flowering for Rosa sempervirens does seem to have some support. I wonder if the species may not have some weak flowering inhibition in warm climates like Italy or California, where some rambling species that wouldn’t repeat elsewhere apparently manage to flower off and on after the main flush, maybe even all year. That might be a good question to pose to rosarians living in warmer parts of its native range.

Interestingly, Philip Miller in The Gardeners Dictionary (1768) provides what could be evidence for something like a hybrid between R. moschata and R. sempervirens in his rather atypical extended description of the latter species. It all starts out rather innocuously with his basic description for #9 (see: 1768 - The gardeners dictionary - Biodiversity Heritage Library), but then in his further note that follows (see: 1768 - The gardeners dictionary - Biodiversity Heritage Library), he says some very unusual things about its flowering season and height:

“The ninth sort grows naturally in Spain; the seeds of this were sent me by Robert More, Esq., who found the plants growing there naturally. This rises with erect stalks four or five feet high, which are covered with a green bark, and armed with strong crooked white spines. The leaves are composed of five oval lobes ending in acute points; they are smooth, of a lucid green, and are slightly sawed on their edges; these continue all the year, and make a goodly appearance in winter. The flowers grow in large bunches or umbels at the end of the branches; they are single, white, and have a strong musky odour; they appear in August, and if the autumn proves favorable, will continue in succession till October.”

This is nearly identical to his description of the flowering season for Rosa moschata (his #13), but on a much more compact plant with glossy leaves. Miller’s account of the growth and flowering of R. sempervirens is so odd that it is difficult to account for it as anything other than a hybrid or a very unusual mutant. I’ve noticed that Rosa sempervirens isn’t always described as having a particularly strong fragrance, either.

I wonder if R. moschata var. korfuana might not be referable to some variant of R. sempervirens or even possibly R. phoenicia–the assertion that R. moschata Miller is considered to be native to North Africa could be a clue to such a relationship. That might take careful studies of herbarium specimens, particularly the type, to determine with any certainty, especially if it hasn’t been studied carefully by other taxonomists. It seems that the reference to evergreen foliage is probably meant for var. korfuana (although I wonder if even typical R. moschata would lose its foliage in winter in the warm climate of Corfu).