Breeder brought back romance to the rose

David Austin, who has died aged 92, was a plant breeder who defiantly reinvented the rose to the delight of gardeners, florists and brides around the world. In his 30s, Austin began a life’s work breeding new rose varieties that captured the romance, character and, most of all, the fragrance of old garden roses immortalised in art and literature through the ages and across the globe. Few shared his vision.

At the time, breeders, plant nurseries and consumers were drawn to stiff, tightly furled and resolutely unscented hybrid tea and floribunda roses that embodied the prevailing ideal of a rosebud on a stick. In a society that after

World War II was gripped by modernity,

Austin might as well have been peddling silk hats and spats.

‘‘He had gone around to other rose nurseries [in England] and tried to get them to grow them for him,’’ said Michael Marriott, his longtime colleague and company rosarian. ‘‘They all rejected him out of hand.’’

Today, Austin’s creations, which he called English Roses, are the gold standard in the vast contemporary rose market. Chaliceshaped, multi-petalled, richly hued and perfumed, they are widely celebrated for having restored the charm and character to the iconic flower.

From his home and nursery in Albrighton, in England’s west Midlands, Austin, his son David Austin Jr and their colleagues developed a rose breeding centre that keeps their annual catalogue replete with more than 100 varieties of new-old roses.

David Charles Henry Austin was born in Albrighton, and grew up in a farming family. Cultivating crops was second nature to him – as a young man he farmed grains – but he became interested as a teenager in the work of a local nurseryman who was hybridising lupines and other perennials. The idea that one could take two plants and, by hand pollination, create a whole new plant captivated him.

His love of old roses began on his 21st birthday, when his sister gave him a book on the subject. It opened his eyes to rose types developed in France and England through the centuries. Most bloomed just once a year.

The modern rose emerged in the 19th century and soon became popular for its repeat flowering, brighter colour variations and small size – suited to a society moving to the city and suburbs. By the time Austin began his quixotic quest to revive the historic rose, millions of hybrid teas were produced annually for consumers in Europe and the US.

Austin was unwavering in his desire to cross an old rose with a modern variety to produce a plant with all the grace of an antique rose and the pleasing attributes of the new version. Scent was an essential element, and he often said that a rose ‘‘is only half a rose if it doesn’t have fragrance’’. A scented flower tends to fade faster than an unscented one, a reason modern roses lacked the trait.

Austin’s first introduction, in 1961, was not a repeat bloomer but paved the way for others. Named ‘‘Constance Spry’’ after a renowned English gardener and florist, it had large rose-pink blossoms that smelled of myrrh.

During the 1960s, living as a farmer and raising his family, Austin continued his hybridising on the side and added about half a dozen other varieties to his range before deciding to turn his hobby into a business.

The early years were difficult. Several times he was on the verge of quitting, but his wife, Patricia Braithwaite Austin, urged him to carry on. His breakthrough came in 1983, when he brought three introductions to his stand at the Chelsea Flower Show in London. The press raved in particular over a variety named for an eminent rosarian. ‘‘Graham Thomas’’ was a golden yellow with a strong tea rose scent.

Austin and his extravagant rose displays became a fixture at the Chelsea show, where on at least one occasion he greeted the Queen as she made her rounds. In 2007, he was awarded the Order of the British Empire, and he also received the highest award of the Royal Horticultural Society, the Victoria Medal of Honour.

Austin cut the figure of the gentleman farmer – with tweed jackets, corduroys and, in earlier years, a pipe – and acquaintances remembered him as a fellow who preferred reading poetry in his 18th-century panelled library to going to dinner parties.

He was most at home in his greenhouses, studying the blooming and growth habits of seedlings and making the hard choices over what to keep, what to discard.

His wife, a painter and sculptor, died in 2007. His survivors include two sons, a daughter, and eight grandchildren.

Two things irritated Austin. The first was the suggestion that his success was because of slick marketing instead of the character and beauty of his roses.

The second was if someone asked him to name his favourite creation. ‘‘He would never deign to answer that question,’’ said Marriott.

‘‘A rose is only half a rose if it doesn’t have fragrance.’’

David Austin