and so indeed it ought, for Baptist Noel rarely concludes his sermons within an hour. If his eloquence be compared to that of a stream, it must be that of no mountain country, but of peaceful plains, of one of which it may be said that
‘through delicious meads
The murmuring stream its winding water leads.’
He is remarkably fluent; his sentences are particularly smooth and well constructed, and his voice gently modulated: of action, he can be said scarcely to have any. Baptist Noel is a thorough Englishman in this respect.
As a thinker, he has been more remarkable for his freedom and candour than for his consistency and depth. He has always held, in the main, what are called Evangelical views, but his views have not always been on all matters the same. At one time he was an opponent of Millenarian views—he then became strenuous in their favour—now he has returned to his original opinions, and opposes them as warmly as before. He acted a similar part with reference to the British and Foreign Bible Society, and his amiable little tract, on the Unity of the Church, was considered very inconsistent, by Churchmen and Dissenters alike, with his position as a minister of the Establishment.
As a writer Mr. Noel’s principal work has been that on the Union of Church and State, in which he justified, at considerable length, his secession from the Establishment. He has also
published an account of a tour in Ireland, to which he was sent on a visit of inspection by the Whigs a few years since; and he has also written a little poetry, some of which has found its way into print. It is hardly necessary to say that it is of that common character which it is said neither gods nor men allow.
To many, Mr. Noel’s whole career as a Churchman was very offensive. They had no idea of a clergyman of the Church of England standing on the same platform with a Dissenting brother. I believe, by his conduct, Baptist Noel drew down upon himself more than one Episcopal rebuke; and, therefore, few were surprised when the time came when he burst the bonds that had long held him, and became the minister of the Baptist church, John Street, Bedford Row—a church formed by the Rev. John Harrington Evans, like Mr. Noel, originally a clergyman of the Establishment. Still the effort was a bold one. By such a step he had nothing to gain, and much to lose. Worldly considerations would have prompted him to remain where he was. I honour him that he obeyed the dictates of conscience. Men do so rarely, and, when they do so, they are but rarely honoured. The
religious world made much more of Baptist Noel when he was in the Church than now. Scarcely a religious public meeting was held in the metropolis without Mr. Noel being put down in the bills as one of the speakers: now his voice is rarely heard.
This is strange, but true. Regret it as we may, such is the fact. It was when Baptist Noel preached at St. John’s that he was run after. What crowds filled that dreary place! How difficult it was to get a seat there! The dingy, dirty old building itself was enough to draw a crowd. It was built for that fiery, foolish priest, Sacheverell. Scott, famed for his Commentary on the Bible, was a curate there. There also preached the scarcely less celebrated Cecil. In his steps followed Daniel Wilson, the Bishop of Calcutta. Wilberforce had worshipped there. The building itself was a fact and a sermon as well. The place had a religion of its own. The neighbouring pulpit in which Baptist Noel now officiates has nothing of the kind. Perhaps, however, the less Dissent is encumbered with tradition or history the better. As it is, the soul is sluggish enough. Leaden custom lies too heavy on us all.