A London publisher, and subsequently an Independent minister in Eastcheap, published several curious works. Among these were “The Apocryphal New Testament,” and many political pieces. One of the latter, “The Political House that Jack Built,” ran through fifty editions. Hone is generally known, however, by his three miscellaneous publications, “The Every-day Book,” “The Table Book,” and “The Year Book.”

Personal

  I went again to the King’s Bench, Guildhall. Lord Ellenborough sat to-day. I was curious to see how he would succeed where Abbott had failed, and whether he could gain a verdict on Hone’s second trial after a former acquittal. Hone was evidently less master of himself before Ellenborough than before Abbott, and perhaps would have sunk in the conflict, but for the aid he received from the former acquittal. He pursued exactly the same course as before. This charge was for publishing a parody on the Litany, and it was charged both as an anti-religious and a political libel; but the Attorney-General did not press the political count. After a couple of hours’ flourishing on irrelevant matter, Hone renewed his perusal of old parodies. On this Lord Ellenborough said he should not suffer the giving them in evidence. This was said in such a way that it at first appeared he would not suffer them to be read. However, Hone said, if he could not proceed in his own way he would sit down, and Lord Ellenborough might send him to prison. He then went on as before. Several times he was stopped by the Chief Justice, but never to any purpose. Hone returned to the offensive topic, and did not quit it till he had effected his purpose, and the judge, baffled and worn out, yielded to the prisoner.

  We went into a little parlor where the funeral party was, and God knows it was miserable enough, for the widow and children were crying bitterly in one corner, and the other mourners (mere people of ceremony, who cared no more for the dead man than the hearse did) were talking quite coolly and carelessly together in another; and the contrast was as painful and distressing as anything I ever saw. There was an independent clergyman present, with his bands on and a Bible under his arm, who, as soon as we were seated, addressed C[ruikshank] thus, in a loud, emphatic voice: “Mr. C., have you seen a paragraph respecting our departed friend, which has gone the round of the morning papers?” “Yes, sir,” says C., “I have:” looking very hard at me the while, for he had told me with some pride coming down that it was his composition. “Oh!” said the clergyman. “Then you will agree with me, Mr. C., that it is not only an insult to me, who am the servant of the Almighty, but an insult to the Almighty, whose servant I am.” “How is that, sir?” says C. “It is stated, Mr. C., in that paragraph,” says the minister, “that when Mr. Hone failed in business as a bookseller, he was persuaded by me to try the pulpit; which is false, incorrect, unchristian, in a manner blasphemous, and in all respects contemptible. Let us pray.” With which, and in the same breath, I give you my word, he knelt down, as we all did, and began a very miserable jumble of an extemporary prayer. I was really penetrated with sorrow for the family (he exerted himself zealously for them afterward, as the kind-hearted C. also did), but when C., upon his knees and sobbing for the loss of an old friend, whispered me that “if that wasn’t a clergyman, and it wasn’t a funeral, he’d have punched his head,” I felt as if nothing but convulsions could possibly relieve me.

  I knew him well, and respected him for warmth of heart, kindness of disposition, and strength of head; but he was most improvident and indiscreet in the management of money affairs. Had these been placed in the charge of an honest, good accountant, William Hone might have lived to be a rich man, and died a happy one.

  I have bought books from Hone when he kept the book-seller’s shop; had coffee from him when he kept the eating-house; and listened to one of his wearisome sermons when he turned preacher…. Hone was a small and insignificant-looking man: mild, kindly, conciliatory in manner, the very opposite of the traditional demagogue. He must have read a vast deal; there is evidence of that in his memorable defences as well as in the books he edited and bequeathed as valuable legacies to posterity. These books contain very little indeed to which objection can be urged, either on moral, political, or religious grounds. It is clear that in later life he abjured much, if not all, hostility to those personages and institutions against whom and which in his earlier career he had directed his envenomed attacks. The evil he did was almost atoned for by the good he accomplished; if the one is forgotten let the other be remembered, and the verdict of posterity be recorded as “forgiven” on the stone that covers the dust of a very remarkable, and I believe, conscientious man.

  Hone had twelve children, nine of whom, together with his widow, survived him. The “Quarterly Review” naturally styled Hone “a wretch as contemptible as he is wicked,” and “a poor illiterate creature.”… Hone was a thoroughly honest and conscientious man, and deserves to be remembered for his sacrifices on behalf of the freedom of the press and cheap literature. There is a portrait of him in stipple by Rogers from a drawing by Cruikshank. Towards the end of his life (1833) he is said to have been “rather corpulent, dressed very plainly; and his lofty forehead, keen eye, grey and scanty locks, and very expressive countenance, commanded respect.”

General

  By-the-by, I have brought Hone’s “Every-day Book” and his “Table Book,” and am sorry I had not seen them before my “Colloquies” were printed, that I might have given him a hearty good word there. I have not seen any miscellaneous books that are so well worth having; brimful of curious matter, and with an abundance of the very best wood-cuts. Poor fellow, he outwent the march of intellect; and I believe his unwearied and almost unparalleled industry has ended in bankruptcy. I shall take the first opportunity of noticing these books; perhaps it will be in Allan Cunningham’s periodical.

  His later publications were useful and valuable, as calculated to combine amusing with good historical, topographical, and antiquarian information. They were “The Every-Day Book,” “The Year Book,” “The Table Book,” and “Ancient Mysteries.” Never, perhaps, was political and personal satire, irony, ridicule, burlesque, caricature, sarcasm, and unflinching temerity of language and graphic representation carried to such a pitch as in his once-popular pamphlets, which, with the exalted and illustrious personages represented and ridiculed, are now scarcely to be described in the haze of distance. Had there not been gross delinquency and bad conduct in the parties satirized, and also palpable originality and talent in the author and the artist, these publications would not have attained their surprising and unprecedented popularity.

  His “Every-Day Book” (1826), “Table Book” (1827–8), and “Year Book” (1829) are full of out-of-the-way information, and are still read with pleasure, more especially when it is remembered that Lamb took part in their preparation…. Hone at least deserves admiration for possessing the courage of his opinions, and in the history of Radicalism his name has an honourable place.