THE CONVENT OF THE ORDER OF ST. CLARE.—A convent of this order of nuns,
sometimes termed _Clarisses_, but more commonly spoken of as the “Poor
Clares,” is planted on a fine site, near two acres in extent, in
Notting-hill. It comprises two blocks of buildings, one more in the
interior of the grounds, and the other abutting upon the main, opposite
to Edmund-terrace in the Cornwall-road. Excepting this part, by which
communication with the outside world is kept up, through a low, strong,
cloistered doorway, the whole premises are enclosed within high brick
walls, and along the Ladbroke-grove-road the whole length, from its
junction with Cornwall road to that of Blenheim-crescent. Entering by
the low door in the Cornwall-road, the visitor finds himself in a shaded
vestibule or hall, and having directly on his left the entrance of the
convent chapel. This chapel occupies only a small space, being capable
of containing, if filled, about fifty worshippers. It is profusely
decorated on all sides with images of the Virgin and saints. It has a
small altar, and on the right a darkened sacristry. The most noticeable
thing—the thing mostly felt—is the profound silence reigning, which the
hushed movement of the priest, whose white surplice was just visible in
the gloom, only served to make more manifest. The religious offices are
performed by priests from the Catholic Church of St. Mary’s, Bayswater.
This order of nuns was founded in 1212, by St. Clara—from whom it derives
its name—a native of Assisi, in Italy. She adopted the rule of St.
Francis in all its rigour, and her followers are absolutely forbidden to
have any possessions. There are also other peculiarities in their rules,
habit of dress, &c. Those who enter by this door surrender all ownership
of earthly treasure, and doom themselves to perpetual poverty; and in the
end, on attaining the higher degree of devotion, sever themselves from
all contact with and even from the sight of the outer world. In this
convent at Notting-hill there are at present about twenty nuns, who are
pretty equally divided into the two classes of “Externals” and
“Internals,” or, in other words, into those who maintain subdued
communications with beyond the walls, and those who are strictly and
unchangeably confined within. Very little farther is or can be known of
them. The sisters work with their own hands, and, under the direction of
the Lady Superior, do all their domestic service according to a
prescribed order. Great strictness of discipline is understood to
prevail. On ringing at the low door, which is darkened from its depth in
the wall, the blind of a small grated window was withdrawn, and a pair of
lustrous dark eyes peered through. Anon the door is softly opened; and,
in answer to a deferential inquiry as to whether it might be practicable
for an outsider to come and look within, the gentle portress—then acting
as such in her turn—promptly and with a cheerful air gave permission to
enter and see the chapel. This nun carried herself so pleasantly, and
answered our queries so readily and agreeably, as almost to ignore the
impression so common on these occasions, of secret restraint.
THE CONVENT OF THE FRANCISCANS.—This has been established in the northern
part of the Portobello-road, Notting-hill, about ten years. It is a
substantial brick structure, entered by strong conventual doors, and
sufficiently enclosed from the profane world. We were politely admitted
by the kind sister who attended as portress, to whom we made known our
object. “Are you a Catholic?” she asked; “Yes,” was the reply. But the
quick-witted sister at once detected the expression of countenance with
which the answer was given, and said, smilingly, “Ah, a Protestant
Catholic.” We readily accepted this position, and were ushered into a
neat waiting-room, pending consultation by our guide with the “rev.
mother,” apparently with the view of clearing herself from all
responsibility in the matter. In about five minutes she returned with
permission for us to see the chapel. This we entered by what is termed
the door and chapel of the “Externals.” The compartment is divided into
three parts, the outer court, a small chapel in itself appropriated for
“Externals,” which in this case means visitors, or such as may
occasionally be tarrying in the convent, but who are not really entered
in the order. The other part, which resembles the choir in an ordinary
church, is sacred to the sisters themselves. The chancel divides the
two, which has the altar and the usual furniture, and in the background
an effective fresco by Westlake, portraying the “Annunciation” and
“Coronation” of the Virgin. This we were allowed to approach; but when
we made for the “Nuns’ Choir” below, we were impulsively caught back, and
told that none “ever entered there” but the “sisters” themselves. We
apologised and retired. There are now between twenty and thirty nuns at
this establishment, who appear to enjoy slightly more life than their
sisters the “Poor St. Clares.” In a remote room a piano was being
played, accompanying a clear, strong voice; and the corridors and
apartments through the silence of which it rang were light and cheerful.
The order established here is not the _strictest_ sect of St. Francis.
The “Poor Clares” are supposed to be that; but the “Franciscans”
correspond more with the “Brethren of the Community,” who in the 14th
century insisted on mitigating the more austere rules of the founder.
Although the _recluse_ life and the vow of poverty are upon them, in
practice the severity of these rules is relaxed to meet, in some sort,
the varying temperament of human nature. Attached to the convent, at the
next door, is a school for poor children, called the “Saint Elizabeth’s
Home.” This is entirely managed by the sisters, and contains at present
66 girls, ranging in age from four to fourteen years. The religious
ceremonies are here also performed by priests from St. Mary’s, Bayswater.
ST. JOSEPH’S HOME OF THE LITTLE SISTERS.—Of all the conventual
establishments of the Roman Catholics in West London this is in some
respects the most remarkable. It is situated exactly opposite the former
building in Portobello-road, a large brick edifice, giving one the
impression of a workhouse or hospital, and in fact not unlike them in its
objects. It has been founded about four years, and subsists entirely
upon voluntary charity. It is a home for the aged and infirm poor of
both sexes, and has at the present time no less than 210 inmates. It is
under the management of the nuns of the place, known as the “Little
Sisters,” which may also be considered as a sect of the order of St.
Francis. The Franciscans were first called by the saint _Fraterculi_,
“Little Brethren,” in token of their humility. For a like reason the
corresponding order of nuns take the appellation “Little Sisters.” At
this place they are foreigners, and of a humble grade. In the former
cases the sisters we saw were English, and refined in their deportment
and speech; in the present they appeared of another class, but adapted to
the work they have to do. The “Rev. Mother,” who is the “matron” of the
place, came, with a meek young nun in attendance, to converse with us.
She was extremely reticent, and inquisitive as to our motive, concerning
which we found it difficult to satisfy her. She, however, readily
conducted us through the place, the attendant nun following closely. The
chapel is large for a private one, and great care and some expense have
been bestowed upon the chancel, altar, and little side chapels—devoted
respectively to the Virgin and St. Joseph. Several of the old people
were sitting about, saying their _Ave Marias_, and counting their beads,
and a young foreign priest knelt at the railings enclosing the main
altar. Perceiving us about to leave without bowing to the altar, the
“Rev. Mother,” who had already bowed, turned and bowed again several
times, as though in atonement for our omission. The dormitories are
large and airy, and closely fitted up with beds down each side, having
plain patchwork counterpanes, made with charitable hands, all after the
same pattern. In a large room below many of the old men were sitting
about at leisure, reading books and newspapers, with which charity
accommodates them. In another large compartment the old women were at
tea, served up to them in good-sized basins, with plain bread, and
butter, if any, invisible. They seemed to be thoroughly enjoying
themselves, and rose politely as we passed through. The wards of the
infirmary presented the most affecting sight of all. The inmates here
were not numerous, and all—with one or two exceptions—very old bedridden
people, who appeared to be dying from natural exhaustion in the ordinary
course, and, as some of them tearfully and hopefully said, in answer to
our few words of encouragement, “Waiting their change.” There were more
men than women; and two or three of the males were about in middle life.
One of these, the Matron told us, had been in bed for twenty-five years.
The “Little Sisters” provide homes for the aged poor, professedly
“without distinction of religion;” although, of course, all the internal
arrangements are Roman Catholic. They appeal for help to the public, and
say they accept “any contributions in money, food, clothing, &c.” They
have no funds for the maintenance of the home but what is thus regularly
supplied.