Monday, June 30th, 1856
was a warm and beautiful day, and my wife and I took a cab from Southampton and drove to NETLEY ABBEY, about three or four miles.
. . . and it is a most picturesque and perfect ruin, all ivy-grown, of course, and with great trees where the pillars of the nave used to stand, and also in the refectory and the cloister court; and so much soil on the summit of the broken walls, that weeds flourish abundantly there, and grass too; and there was a wild rosebush, in full bloom, as much as thirty or forty feet from the ground.
Ivy, trees, rose bushes all cleared away now
Stair ascended by Nathaniel Hawthorne
Sophia and I ascended a winding stair, leading up within a round tower, the steps much foot-worn; and, reaching the top, we came forth at the height where a gallery had formerly run round the church, in the thickness of the wall.
The upper portions of the edifice were now chiefly thrown down; but I followed a footpath, on the top of the remaining wall, quite to the western entrance of the church.
Since the time when the Abbey was taken from the monks, it has been private property; and the possessor, in Henry VIII's days, or subsequently, built a residence for himself within its precincts out of the old materials. This has now entirely disappeared, all but some unsightly old masonry, patched into the original walls.
Large portions of the ruin have been removed, likewise, to be used as building-materials elsewhere; and this is the Abbey mentioned, I think, by Dr. Watts, concerning which a Mr. William Taylor had a dream while he was contemplating pulling it down. He dreamed that a part of it fell upon his head; and, sure enough, a piece of the wall did come down and crush him.
In the nave I saw a large mass of conglomerated stone that had fallen from the wall between the nave and cloisters, and thought that perhaps this was the very mass that killed poor Mr. Taylor.
The ruins are extensive and very interesting; but I have put off describing them too long, and cannot make a distinct picture of them now. Moreover, except to a spectator skilled in architecture, all ruined abbeys are pretty much alike.
As we came away, we noticed some women making baskets at the entrance, and one of them urged us to buy some of her handiwork; for that she was the gypsy of Netley Abbey, and had lived among the ruins these thirty years. So I bought one for a shilling. She was a woman with a prominent nose, and weather-tanned, but not very picturesque or striking.
Nathaniel HawthorneSouthampton
Henry III came to the throne in 1216, the year after Magna Carta was signed. A copy of Magna Carta can be seen at Salisbury Cathedral (but not on Sundays). Henry III is the only monarch not to have been crowned at Westminster; in 1216 at the age of nine, he was crowned at Gloucester. Construction of Netley Abbey was started in 1239 and in 1251 Henry became a patron of the establishment. He visited in 1252 and his mark can still be seen on the base of one of the pillars.
Between 1251 and 1536 Netley led a blameless life, just getting on with it. It wasn't a wealthy abbey but had a reputation for helping others. Then in 1536, Henry VIII, the Reformation, and all that. It came in to the possession of William Paulet, one of the King's favourites - who also managed to remain a favourite to the three succeeding monarchs, not a bad feat in Tudor England. He did it by being like "the supple willow, not the stubborn oak", or as Groucho Marx put it - "those are my principles, if you don't like them, I've got others."
Paulet was responsible for the red brick additions as he converted the abbey into a private house. Around 1700 it was bought by Sir Berkeley Lucy, for the building stone. This was where Walter Taylor came in. He wasn't buried in a rockfall like Hawthorne seems to think, but (tis said) a shard of stone entered his skull and he died as a result of an unskilled surgeon poking about.
To the desecrators of the fine old relics of England we commend the story told of a builder of Southampton, in connection with Netley Abbey. Soon after the beginning of the last century [ie 1700], Mr. Walter Taylor purchased this abbey, intending to pull the whole fabric to pieces, and with the materials erect a town-house at Newport, and dwelling-houses at other places. After the contract had been made, some of Mr. Taylor’s friends appear to have been conversing with him on the unworthiness of it, and uttered the forcible remark, that “they would never be concerned in the demolition of holy and consecrated places.” Mr. Taylor then began to feel less satisfied with his undertaking; and his family have since stated that he related to the father of Dr. Isaac Watts a dream that he had, in which, whilst taking down the abbey, the keystone of the arch over the east window fell from its place, and killed him. Dreams were held in more respect a century ago than they are at present [1845]; but Mr. Watts’ advice went no further than recommending that the builder should not personally be concerned in the destruction of the abbey. His advice, such as it was, was not followed.
Mr. Taylor superintended the operations of his workmen at their melancholy task; and, singularly enough, while he was removing some boards within the east window, to admit air, a stone fell upon his head and fractured his skull. The injury was not at first deemed mortal; but the decree had gone forth—the spoiler of the holy edifice was doomed—he died under the operation of extracting a splinter. It might certainly be said that the accident of the surgeon’s instrument slipping aside and piercing the brain was the immediate cause of death, and not the stone; but we can think only of the moral bearing of the incident, nor will a little superstition on this point be amiss, if it induce certain people to lay more reverent hands on time-honoured remains like Netley Abbey.”
Charles Knight Old England - A Pictorial Museum
That put a stop to the removal of stone from the abbey (for a time), but not before a fair amount was removed, which you can see in buildings round and about Netley.
As the most complete abbey ruin in the south of England Netley Abbey became popular with the old Romantics from the early 1700s onwards, with Walpole, Constable and Jane Austen all popping along for inspiration. Walpole wrote: ‘But how shall I describe Netley to you?….they are not the ruins of Netley but of Paradise’
In the 1700s it was fairly tricky to get to Netley, a boat trip form Southampton's Town Quay was probably the easiest way. Starting in 1800 roads out of (and into) Southampton began to improve, but it was the arrival of the Floating Bridge in 1836 that changed fortunes on the eastern side of the Itchen. This made it within easy reach of the working man. And woman. And their broods of kids. There were complaints.
From Regents Park, where the Hawthornes were staying, they “took a cab”, horse drawn obviously, along Western Shore (now reclaimed as dockland, where the liners arrive and depart), through the old town to Crosshouse where they will have taken the “floating bridge” mentioned above, on which they would have crossed the River Itchen, arriving in Woolston.
John Lennon also took this floating bridge on his way to Sandbanks, Poole (where there is another floating bridge) to visit Aunt Mimi.

From the floating bridge they likely went along Portsmouth Road, then down Grange Road, parallel with Tickleford Gully, before arriving at The Abbey.
Sophia and I ascended a winding stair, leading up within a round tower, the steps much foot-worn; and, reaching the top, we came forth at the height where a gallery had formerly run round the church, in the thickness of the wall. The upper portions of the edifice were now chiefly thrown down; but I followed a footpath, on the top of the remaining wall, quite to the western entrance of the church.
and this is Hawthorne's route along "a footpath, on the top of the remaining wall, quite to the western entrance of the church". Which is not possible.



















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