Not only is the Rivington family the oldest still existing in bookselling annals, but even in itself it succeeded, a century and a half ago, to a business already remarkable for antiquity. In 1711, on the death of Richard Chiswell, styled by Dunton “the Metropolitan of booksellers,” his premises and his trade passed into the hands of Charles Rivington, and the sign of the “Bible and the Crown” was then first erected over the doorway of the house in Paternoster Row; and from that time to this the “Bible and the Crown” might have been fairly stamped upon the cover of nearly every book issued from the establishment, as a seal and token of its contents.

Charles Rivington was born at Chesterfield, in Derbyshire, towards the close of the seventeenth century, and from a very early age he evinced such a taste for religious books that his friends determined to send him to London, that he might become a theological bookseller. Having served his apprenticeship with a Mr. Matthews, he was, in 1711, made free of the city, preparatory to entering into business on his own account, and, bearing the date of that year, billheads are still existing to which his name is affixed. In 1718 we find him, in conjunction with other firms, issuing proposals to print by subscription Mason’s “Vindication of the Church of England, and the Ministry thereof,” a principle that the family has steadily adhered to ever since; for though Rivington published one of Whitfield’s very earliest works, “The Nature and Necessity of a New Birth in Christ,” preached at Bristol in September, 1737, the author was then a young Oxford student, who had been but just ordained; and Wesley, too, the other great religious mover of the day, was still a fellow of Lincoln College, Oxford, when Rivington brought out his edition of Thomas à Kempis’ “Imitation of Christ,” a book that has, after the Bible, gone through more editions than any other.

About 1719, an association of some half-a-dozen respectable booksellers entered into partnership for the purpose of printing expensive books, and styled themselves the printing Conger,22 and, in 1736, another similar company was started by Rivington and Bettesworth, who termed themselves the “New Conger.”

Much of Rivington’s business consisted in the publication of sermons, which, as a simple commission trade, was profitable without risk. An amusing story is told, which proves that the ponderous nature of his trade stock did not prevent Charles Rivington from being a man of kindly humour. A poor vicar, in a remote country diocese, had preached a sermon so acceptable to his parishioners, that they begged him to have it printed, and, full of the honour conferred and the greater honours about to come, the clergyman at once started for London, was recommended to Rivington, to whom he triumphantly related the object of his journey. Rivington agreed to his proposals, and asked how many copies he would like struck off. “Why, sir,” replied the clergyman, “I have calculated that there are in the kingdom ten thousand parishes, and that each parish will, at least, take one and others more, so that I think we may venture to print thirty-five or thirty-six thousand copies.”

Rivington remonstrated, the author insisted, and the matter was settled. With great self-denial, the clergyman waited at home for nearly two months in silence, but at length the hope of fame and riches so tormented him that he could hold out no longer, and he wrote to Rivington desiring him to send in the debtor and creditor account at once, but adding liberally that the remittance might be forwarded at his own convenience. What, then, was his astonishment, anguish, and tribulation, when the following account was received:—

In a day or two he received a letter from Rivington to the following purport:—

“Rev. Sir,—I beg pardon for innocently amusing myself at your expense, but you need not give yourself any uneasiness. I knew better than you could do the extent of the sale of single sermons, and accordingly printed one hundred copies, to the expense of which you are heartily welcome.”23

In 1736 Rivington became an active member of a society for promoting the encouragement of learning, but as he and his colleagues sustained much injury through it, this was in the following year abandoned.

In 1737 we find him venturing in a very different path. “Two booksellers,” writes Richardson, “my particular friends (Rivington and Osborne), entreated me to write for them a little volume of letters, in a common style, on such subjects as might be of use to those country readers who were unable to indite for themselves. ‘Would it be any harm,’ said I, ‘in a piece you want to be written so low, if one should instruct them how they should think and act in common cases, as well as indite?’ They were the more urgent for me to begin the little volume for the hint. I set about it, and in the progress of writing two or three letters to instruct handsome girls who were obliged to go out to service, as we phrase it, how to avoid the snares that might be laid against their virtue, the above story occurred to me, and hence sprang ‘Pamela.’” The first two volumes of the story were written in three months, and never was a book of this kind more generally or more quickly admired. Pope asserted that it would do more good than twenty sermons, mindful, perhaps, of its publisher; Slocock and many other eminent divines recommended it from the pulpit; a critic declared that if all books were burnt, the Bible and ‘Pamela’ ought to be preserved; and even at fashionable Ranelagh, where the former was in but little request, “it was usual for the ladies to hold up the volume (the latter) to one another, to show that they had got the book that every one was talking of.” What, however, was more to Rivington’s purpose, the volume went through five editions in the year of publication, 1741.

This success closed Charles Rivington’s business life, for he died on the 25th of February, 1742.

By Ellen Pease, his wife, a native of Durham, he had six children, to whom his friend Samuel Richardson, the executor also of his will, acted as guardian.

Charles, the founder, was succeeded by John and James, who carried on the publishing business conjointly for several years, after which James joined a Mr. Fletcher, in St. Paul’s Churchyard, with whom he brought out Smollett’s “History of England,” by which £10,000 was cleared—the largest profit that had yet been made on any single book. This success, however, encouraged James to neglect his affairs, and he took to frequenting Newmarket; racing and gambling soon ended in a failure, and in 1760 he thought it advisable to start for the New World. Here, in Philadelphia, he commenced his celebrated Gazette, and, as he advocated the British interests and took the loyal side, his premises were destroyed by the rebels, and his type cast into republican bullets. James Rivington then came back to London, where he obtained the appointment of “King’s printer to America,” and furnished afresh with types and presses he returned to recommence his Royal Gazette, which he carried on boldly up to the withdrawal of the British troops; and as he had contrived somehow, it is said by forwarding early intelligence, to propitiate the enemy, he was allowed to continue his paper, which soon died for want of subscribers; but until 1802 he lived in New York, leaving many descendants there. Even in those early and unsophisticated days, Yankee gentlemen had contracted the habit of “cowhiding” obnoxious or impertinent editors, and the wit of the Royal Gazette was in its time sufficiently stinging and personal to involve its proprietor in many of these little difficulties. James Rivington relates rather an amusing story of an interview with Ethan Allen, one of the republican heroes, who came for the express purpose of administering chastisement. He says:—

“I was sitting down, after a good dinner, with a bottle of Madeira before me, when I heard an unusual noise in the street, and a huzza from the boys. I was on the second story, and, stepping to the window, saw a tall figure in tarnished regimentals, with a large cocked hat and an enormously long sword, followed by a crowd of boys, who occasionally cheered him with huzzas, of which he seemed quite unaware. He came up to my door and stopped. I could see no more—my heart told me it was Ethan Allen. I shut my window, and retired behind my table and my bottle. I was certain the hour of reckoning had come—there was no retreat. Mr. Staples, my clerk, came in, paler than ever, clasping his hands—‘Master, he has come!’ ‘I know it.’ I made up my mind, looked at the Madeira, possibly took a glass. ‘Show him up, and if such Madeira cannot mollify him, he must be harder than adamant.’ There was a fearful moment of suspense; I heard him on the stairs, his long sword clanking at every step. In he stalked. ‘Is your name James Rivington?’ ‘It is, sir, and no man can be more delighted to see Colonel Ethan Allen.’ ‘Sir, I have come——’ ‘Not another word, my dear Colonel, until you have taken a seat and a glass of old Madeira.’ ‘But, sir, I don’t think it proper—’ ‘Not another word, Colonel, but taste this wine; I have had it in glass ten years.’ He took the glass, swallowed the wine, smacked his lips, and shook his head approvingly. ‘Sir, I come——’ ‘Not another word until you have taken another glass, and then, my dear Colonel, we will talk of old officers, and I have some queer events to detail.’ In short, we finished three bottles of Madeira, and parted as good friends as if we never had cause to be otherwise.”

In England, to return there, John Rivington was still successfully fostering his father’s business. A quiet and sedate man, with nothing of James’ rashness and venture about him, he is described by West as being stout and well formed, particularly neat in his person, of dignified and gentlemanly address, going with gold-headed cane and nosegay twice a day to service at St. Paul’s—as befitted the great religious publisher of the day, and living generally upon the most friendly terms with the members of the Episcopal Bench, and breakfasting every alternate Monday with Bishop Seeker at Lambeth. A kind master, too, for coming back on the 30th of January, from service, and finding his sons and clerks plodding at the desk—“Tous, sous, how is this?—I always put my shutters up on this day.”

In May, 1743, he married a sister of Sir Francis Gosling, Alderman, afterwards Lord Mayor, and as she brought him a fortune and fifteen children, the match may probably be considered a prosperous one.

Orthodox in his views, and true in business to the professions he held out privately, Wesley and Whitfield had to go elsewhere for a publisher, although there must have been plenty of temptation to incline the trade to patronise Methodism, for Coote, in a comedy of his, published in 1757, makes a bookseller say:—“I don’t deal in the sermon way now; I lost money by the last I printed, for all ’twas by a Methodist.” But John Rivington would have none of them, and in 1752 we find him publishing “The Mischiefs of Enthusiasm and Bigotry: an Assize Sermon by the Rev. R. Hurd;” and about 1760 he was appointed publisher to the venerable “Society for the Promotion of Christian Knowledge”—an office that remained in the family for upwards of seventy years. Dissent in itself was injurious enough to his interests, but when Wilberforce and Hannah More succeeded in making a portion of the Church “Evangelical,” upwards of half his customers deserted to a rival shop in Piccadilly.

Some time before this he had admitted his sons, Francis and Charles, into partnership, and he was then appointed manager in general of the works published by his clique;—that is, of standard editions of Shakespeare, Milton, Locke, and other British classics, and of such religious works as were produced in an expensive and bulky form; and of these works, two especially, Dr. Dodd’s “Commentary,” and Cruden’s “Concordance” stand out so prominently that some slight account of their authors may not be unacceptable.

William Dodd was a man of great learning, and a very popular preacher in the metropolis, and in 1776, when he was appointed chaplain to the King, took his degree of LL.D. Ambitious and fond of display he found himself in debt, and determined to make a bold effort to secure the Rectory of St. George’s, Hanover Square. To her great surprise the wife of Lord Chancellor Apsley received an anonymous letter offering her £3000 if she would procure Dr. Dodd’s presentation to the parish. This insulting proposal was traced to Dodd, and the King ordered that he should be deprived of his chaplaincy. This disgrace, of course, involved him still further, and to extricate himself from these difficulties he was tempted to forge the name of his pupil, Lord Chesterfield, to a bond for £4200. On the discovery of the forgery, Mr. Manley, a solicitor, called upon the doctor with the bill, leaving it on the table in a room where a fire was burning, when he went out for the obvious purpose of refreshment. Dr. Dodd appears to have been too honest to destroy the fatal document, and he was afterwards tried and condemned for forgery, and, spite of all the strenuous efforts of his friends, was executed on 27th of June, 1777.

Alexander Cruden, one of the most useful men who have ever followed the painstaking and praiseworthy profession of index-making, was born in Aberdeen in 1701. An unfortunate passion, which was treated by its unworthy object with great contumely, weakened his senses, and on the discovery that the girl he worshipped was pregnant by her own brother, he went for a short time entirely out of his mind. On his recovery, he was sent to London in the hopes that the difficulty of obtaining position and livelihood might act tonically. At one of the first houses at which he called, the door was opened by the wretched girl herself, and poor Cruden rushed off wildly and vacantly into the streets. For many years he was a bookseller, doubly entitled, therefore, to a notice here, and upon the counter of his shop, under the Royal Exchange, his famous and laborious “Concordance” was compiled. Queen Caroline, to whom it was dedicated, unluckily died before publication, and the downfall of the expectations he had formed from her patronage was too much for the author, and his friends were compelled to place him in a lunatic asylum. Having made his escape, he brought an action against his relatives for false imprisonment—offering his sister the choice of Newgate, Reading and Aylesbury jails, and the prison at Windsor Castle. He was never insane in the eyes of his employers, and as a corrector of the press, especially in the finer editions of the classics, his services were invaluable. Henceforth he adopted the name of “Alexander the Corrector,” as expressive of his character of censor general to the public morals. Armed with a large sponge, his favourite and incessant weapon, he perambulated the town, wiping out all obnoxious signs, more especially “Number 45,” then rendered famous by Wilkes. Giving out, too, that he had a commission from above to preach a general reformation of manners, he made the attempt first among the gownsmen at Oxford, and then among the prisoners at Newgate; but in neither case did he meet with much encouragement. He asked for knighthood from the King, and a vacant ward from his fellow-citizens; and on refusal said that he possessed the hearts if not the hands of his friends. He was found dead on his knees, apparently in a posture of prayer, at his lodgings in Islington on November 1st, 1770.

Samuel Richardson appears to have entertained grateful remembrance of the commission to write the “Familiar Letters to and from several Persons upon Business and other Subjects,” for on his death he left a mourning ring to James Rivington.

During Dodsley’s illness, Rivington and his sons managed the Annual Register, and when on his death it was sold to Orridge and others, they started an annual of their own, which lasted till 1812, and then till 1820 was in abeyance, resumed again till 1823, and in the following year the two were merged into one, and after being published for a few years by the Baldwins, its management returned again to their own hands. Through the Register they were brought into connection with Burke, and were subsequently publishers of his more important works.

At all times the Rivingtons took a very great interest in the Stationers’ Company; this was especially the case with James, who served as master, and at the same time he, his two brothers, and his four sons were all members of the livery. He held many public appointments, was in commission of the peace, a governor of most of the Royal hospitals, and a director of the “Amicable Society,” and of the Union Fire Office.

He died, universally regretted, on the 16th of February, 1792, in his seventy-second year, and was followed by his widow in the succeeding October.

Owing to the split we have referred to in his business, and to his uniform generosity, the fortune he left behind him was not large—indeed, money hoarding has been an attribute of none of the Rivington family.

His two elder sons, Francis and Charles, carried on the business vigorously. Another son, Robert, captain of the “Kent”—East Indiaman—fell, gallantly defending his ship in the Bay of Bengal, and was thus celebrated in the Gentleman’s Magazine:—

A fourth son John, a printer in St. John’s Square, had died previously in 1785.

The first important event in the new publishing house was the establishment of the British Critic, in which Nares and Beloe were conjoint partners with Francis and Charles Rivington. The British Critic was started in January, 1793, in monthly numbers of two shillings each, and by the end of the century attained a circulation of 3500. The editorship was entrusted to Nares, and with the assistance of Beloe it was conducted down to the forty-second volume in 1813. William Beloe was some time librarian of the British Museum, but a stranger who had been admitted to the print-room, having abused his confidence, and stolen some of the pictures, the librarian was somewhat unjustly asked to resign. Among the other contributors to the British Critic were Dr. Parr—of whom Christopher North says, not unfairly, “in his character of a wit and an author one of the most genuine feather-beds of humbug that ever filled up a corner of the world”—and Whittaker, author of the “History of Manchester.” In 1813, the second series of the Critic was commenced, under the editorship of the Rev. W. R. Lyall, afterwards Dean of Canterbury; in 1825 the publication was made quarterly, and a third series began, which, however, only reached three volumes.

Of all the literary men connected with the Rivingtons of this era, none were more useful, and few deserve more grateful remembrance from posterity, than George Ayrscough—-facile princeps of index makers. Originally a miller’s labourer, he obtained a situation in the Rivingtons’ shop, and was afterwards promoted to a clerkship in the British Museum; soon after his further rise to the position of assistant librarian he took orders; but it is as a maker of catalogues and indexes that he is still known; and how great the labour and patient skill needful in compiling the indexes to the Gentleman’s Magazine, the Monthly Review, and the British Critic must have been, all students can approximately guess from the immensity of labour saved individually by their use.

John, the eldest son of Francis, was admitted a partner in 1810, and in 1819 they took a lease of No. 3, Waterloo Place; and so popular were they at the time that it is said Sir James Allen Park, one of the judges, came down to the new house before nine o’clock on New-year’s Day, that he might enrol himself as their first customer. In 1820 they determined to start a branch house for the sale of second-hand books and general literature, and John Cochrane was placed at the head of this establishment. He collected one of the finest stocks ever gathered, and published the best and most carefully compiled catalogue that had then been issued, extending to 815 pages, and enumerating 17,328 articles, many of the rarest kind. The business, however, entailed considerable losses, and was abandoned in 1827.

On October 18, 1822, Francis Rivington, the senior partner, died, earning a character for high probity and sincere and unaffected piety. Like his father he had been a governor in many charitable institutions. “Such a man,” says the author of his obituary notice, “cannot go unwept to the grave; and the writer of this article, after a friendly intercourse of sixty years, is not ashamed to say that at this moment his eyes are moister than his pen”—a quaint but sincere tribute. He had married Miss M. Elhill, sister of an eminent lead merchant, and four of his sons survived him.

In 1827 George and Francis, sons of Charles, joined the firm; and in 1831, Charles, the younger of the two original brothers, was found dead on the floor of his dressing-room. In social life he was distinguished by the mildness and complacence of his temper; and his conversation was invariably enlivened with anecdotes and memories of the literary men and clergymen with whom he had come in contact.

The firm now, therefore, consisted of John, the son of the elder, and Francis and George, two sons of the younger brother.

We shall see, in the following memoirs of the Parkers, how marvellously religious life was quickened at Oxford by the publication of Keble’s “Christian Year.” This feeling, intense in its inner nature as any of the revivals, culminated or fulminated in the publication of the “Tracts for the Times”—the most important work, perhaps, with which the Rivingtons have ever been connected; and worthy, therefore, of the scanty notice for which we can afford space here. The “Tracts for the Times” were commenced in 1833, at a time, according to the writers, “when irreligious principles and false doctrines had just been admitted into public measures on a large scale ... when the Irish sees had been suppressed by the state against the Church’s wish.... They were written with the hope of rousing members of the Church to comprehend her alarming position—of helping them to realize the fact of the gradual growth, allowance, and establishment of unsound principles in her internal concerns; and, having this object, they used spontaneously the language of alarm and complaint. They were written as a man might give notice of a fire or inundation, so as to startle all who heard him” (vol. iii. p. 3). As far as fulfilment of intention went in startling, the writers were perfectly successful. Exhibiting great talents, depth of thought, logical power, acuteness of reasoning, and an undoubted religious feeling, their effect was spontaneous. By one party, and an increasing one, the writers were welcomed with a reverend love that almost forbade criticism, and by the other with the greatest uneasiness and suspicion. The chief writers in the series, for the “Tracts” continued to appear during the space of several years, were Newman, Pusey, Keble, and Williams. In Ireland the clergy were anxious to come over in a body, and greet them collectively. In Scotland, Pusey and Newman were denounced at a public dinner as enemies to the established religion; and at Oxford, where they were personally loved and respected, they were looked upon by a large portion of the members with peculiar distrust. Parties in the Church were formed, and claimed, or were christened after, the names of the writers—such were originally the Puseyites and Newmaniacs. At length the famous “Number 90” appeared, and was thus greeted by the University:—“Modes of interpretation such as are suggested in this tract, evading rather than explaining the sense of the 39 articles, and reconciling subscription to them with the adoption of errors which they were destined to counteract, defeat the object, and are inconsistent with the due observance of the above-mentioned statement.” The Bishop of Oxford forbade their further publication, and shortly afterwards Newman, the author of “Number 90,” showed his honesty by going over to the Roman Catholic Church.

The publication of these “Tracts” still further strengthened the Rivingtons in their position of High Church publishers, and their business benefited considerably by the great increase of the High Church party.

In 1827 a fourth series of the British Critic was commenced, incorporated with the Theological Review. In 1843, however, in consequence of the extreme views that had been expressed in its pages, the publication was discontinued, to the very great regret of the clergy; the English Review, which started from its ashes, met with but little support, and lasted only till 1853.

To complete our personal account of the firm:—John Rivington, who married Anne, daughter of the Rev. John Blackburn, canon of York, died 21st November, 1841, at the age of 62. His son John was admitted a partner in 1836, and is the present head of the firm. George Rivington died in 1842, having retired on account of ill health in 1857, and in 1859 Mr. Francis Rivington retired from active partnership. The present representatives of the firm consist, therefore, of Mr. John Rivington, fifth in descent from the founder, and Mr. Francis Hansard Rivington, who is the sixth.

In 1853 the firm removed their place of business from the ancient house in St. Paul’s Churchyard, and consolidated it at 3, Waterloo Place, retaining nothing but some warehouses in Paternoster Row. In 1862, after an interval of thirty years, they re-acquired the agency of the Cambridge “Press”—a famous manufactory of Bibles, Prayer Books, and Church Services; and in the next year, 1863, they opened branch houses at both Oxford and Cambridge—an extension of business that, after a long life of 160 years, says something for the vitality of the firm.

In treating of the Parkers, it will be necessary to bear in mind the essential fact that there were two distinct families of that name, both engaged in the publication of religious books, and both interested in the “Bible Press”—the one at Oxford and the other at Cambridge; and though its chief interest, as regards later years, will be centred in the younger (publishing) family, who began life in London, it will be necessary, according to our general plan, to give a preliminary glance at the elder family, whose name is more intimately connected with the University of Oxford.

The first of the Parkers with whom we need concern ourselves was Dr. Samuel Parker, sometime Bishop of Oxford. The product of a changeable age, he was a very Vicar of Bray. While at the University of Oxford, he affected to lead a strictly religious life, and entered a weekly society then called the “Gruellers,” because their chief diet was water gruel; and it was observed “that he put more graves into his porridge than all the rest.” Formerly a nonconformist, having once taken orders, he became chaplain to a nobleman in London, whom he amused with his humorous sallies at the expense of his old comrades the Puritans. During Charles’s reign, his writings were distinguished by the bitterness of his attacks upon the dissenting party; and on the accession of James he was installed in the bishopric of Oxford, upon the death of Dr. Fell—the famous subject of inexplicable dislike. He now embraced the Romish religion, “though,” writes Father Peter, a Jesuit, “he hath not yet declared himself openly; the great obstacle is his wife, whom he cannot rid himself of.” Finding the cause growing desperate, he sent a discourse to James, urging him to embrace the Protestant religion. His authority in the diocese became contemptible, and he died unlamented in 1687. He left, however, a son of his own name, an excellent scholar and a man of singular modesty, who married a bookseller’s daughter, of Oxford, and had a numerous family, to support whom he not only wrote, but published, and himself sold, books of a learned class—the most important of which was the “Bibliotheca Biblica.” He died in 1730, and his son, Sackville Parker, was an eminent bookseller in the Turl, his shop being chiefly frequented by the High Church and non-juring clergy. He was one of the four octogenarian Oxford booksellers who all died between 1795 and 1796, and whose united years amounted to 342. He was succeeded by Joseph Parker, his nephew.

About the year 1790, Joseph Parker was apprenticed to Daniel Prince, whose successor, Joshua Cooke, was agent to the University Press, and thus he was able to become acquainted with the management of its publications. The Bible Press was at this period in debt, and was an annual expense to the University, but Parker saw the feasibility of making it a profitable concern, and, by dint of strenuous persuasion, was, in 1805, allowed to enter into partnership with the University Press, jointly with Cooke and Samuel Collingwood, the latter of whom attended to the printing, while the publishing business was left entirely in Joseph Parker’s hands. Great difficulty was felt at first in borrowing money to meet that advanced by the University. In a few years, however, the debts were paid off, and large profits began to come in, and during his lifetime he was able to pay over upwards of £100,000 into the University chest, building in addition the new printing-office, at a cost of £40,000, investing large sums in “plant,” and leaving a concern that was worth £10,000 a year to the partnership.

For the seven years previous to 1815 the number of Bibles printed at Oxford was 460,500; Testaments, 386,000; of prayer-books, 400,000; of catechisms, psalters, &c., 200,000; and the money received as drawback for paper duty amounted to £18,658 2s. 6d. For the same period at Cambridge the Bibles numbered 392,000; the Testaments, 423,000; the Prayer-books, 194,000; while the drawback was only upwards of £1087 7s. 6d. In addition to his interest in the Bible Press, which yielded him about £1000 a year, Joseph Parker, on the death of his regular trade partner, Hanwell, became sole proprietor of the old-established bookselling business of Fletcher and Hanwell, in the Fleet, and, on the retirement of Cooke, succeeded to the office of “Warehouse-keeper,” and also to the appointment of agent for the sale of books published on the “Learned” side of the press; the value of the books sold on this side amounted to from £3000 to £5000 annually, while on the Bible side under his management the sales were something like £100,000 worth.

By far the most important work, however, with which Joseph Parker’s name is concerned, is Keble’s “Christian Year.” We believe that the first risk of publishing was insured by Sir John Coleridge. Nothing could be more unassuming than its first appearance in 1827, in two little volumes, without even the authority of an author’s name. None of the regular literary journals noticed its publication, excepting a friendly greeting in a footnote to an article on another subject in the Quarterly Review. Appealing to no enthusiastic feelings, deprecating excitement, and courting no parties, silently and imperceptibly at first, but with increasing rapidity, it found its way among all sections of churchmen, and was the real commencement of that movement in the Church with which afterwards the “Tracts for the Times” were associated. At Oxford, when once its popularity was attained, its effects were marvellous; young men dropped the slang talk of horses and women and wine, and went about with hymns upon their lips; instead of the riotous joviality of “wines,” the evening meetings became austere; and even the most careless made some little temporary effort to be better and purer. Partaking of the nature of a revival—among a better-educated and less-impressionable class than that usually affected by such movements—its strongest outward symptoms were of longer than ordinary duration, and its inner effects much deeper.

The most popular volume of poems of recent times, it is said in the number of its editions to have out-rivalled Mr. Tupper’s works (we state a fact merely, with an apology for mentioning the two names together); in less than twenty years, twenty-seven editions had been exhausted.24

The author’s profits, as well as the publisher’s, were large, and the Rev. J. Keble devoted his portion of them to the entire reconstruction of his own church, that of Hursley, in Hampshire.

In 1832 Joseph Parker retired from business, retaining, however, his share in the Bible Press until his death in 1850.

Mr. John Henry Parker, his nephew, was the son of John Parker, merchant, of the City of London, and was born in the year 1806. After receiving a good education at Dr. Harris’s school at Chiswick, he entered the bookselling trade in 1821, and was consequently fully prepared, eleven years later, to occupy the position just vacated by his uncle.

Mr. John Henry Parker is known almost as well as an antiquarian, and as a writer on architecture, as a publisher. He continued his uncle’s business at Oxford, and extended it to London, where for many years it was under the management of Mr. Whitaker. The University, however, bought in again the share held by his uncle, in 1850, and declined admitting Mr. J. H. Parker as a partner unless he undertook to give up general business, as by a clause in the deed of partnership none of the temporary proprietors are allowed to follow any other calling. Mr. Parker’s business was in such a profitable condition as to render such a step totally out of the question. He acted, however, as agent for the Oxford Press for many years.

In 1856 the Gentleman’s Magazine was transferred to his house, and for some time he was, with two other gentlemen, conjoint editor; and in 1863 he retired in favour of his son James, devoting his time exclusively to the study of architecture. Among his best-known writings are “The Glossary of Architecture,” and “An Introduction to the Study of Architecture,” both of which are considered standard works on the subject.

In 1863, the year of his retirement, the agency of the works published by the delegates of the Oxford University Press was transferred to Messrs. Macmillan and Co., and the ancient connection was altogether broken. Mr. James Parker, however, still continues the Oxford book-trade, though we believe the London house does the more important business.

Having dealt thus cursorily with the firm of John Henry and Joseph Parker, of London and Oxford, we come to the somewhat similar title of John William Parker and Son, of the West Strand, London.

John William Parker,25 whose father was in the navy, was born in the year 1793, and at an early age entered the service of the late Mr. Clowes, printer, then only commencing business, and, at the age of 14, was bound apprentice to him. Here he took a strong dislike to the irksomeness of case, and it was found more profitable to employ him in the counting-house generally, where his retentive memory and his habits of close observation were quickly turned to good account. When, indeed, most of the records were destroyed by the outbreak of a fire, young Parker’s memory was found most essential as a substitute for the current business documents.

Messrs. Clowes commenced their printing establishment in a very small way, but soon progressed, and were among the first to use the steam press; but as they were then in Northumberland Court, Strand, their neighbour, the Duke of Northumberland, brought an action against them for causing a nuisance, and eventually bought them out of their tenement, and Parker induced Clowes to purchase the lease and plant of a factory in Duke Street, Stamford Street, which had been started unsuccessfully by Applegarth, the inventor of the steam press. Here, undisturbed by neighbouring aristocrats, Parker became the manager of the business, and it prospered so exceedingly that he established a printing-press of his own in the immediate vicinity, and found it necessary to live in Stamford Street, where he made the acquaintance of Dr. D’Oyley, Rector of Lambeth, Dr. Mant, and a number of other influential clergymen, whose connection with the venerable “Society for the Promotion of Christian Knowledge” eventually stood him in good stead.

About the year 1828, the University of Cambridge found that the receipts from its Press were barely sufficient to cover the expenses, while at the sister University, under the management of Collingwood and Mr. Joseph Parker, the annual returns were not only large, but increasing yearly. In this strait the Syndics applied to Mr. Clowes, who sent Mr. Parker down to inspect. The sensible manner in which he at once detected the faults of the establishment, and suggested improvements, led to his immediate engagement as advising printer at a salary of £200; and he soon proved his worth by turning to account the apparently useless stereotype plates; from one set alone, in one year, he cleared £1500 by cutting out the heads of chapters, &c., and re-setting them in new type. He re-opened the account with the “Bible Society,” and in dealing with the “Christian Knowledge Society,” abolished the tax of middlemen.

Parker had hoped, by his energy and perseverance, to become a partner with Mr. Clowes, but finding this precluded by family arrangements, he established himself at 445, West Strand, and at once received the appointment of “publisher of the books issued under the direction of the Committee of General Literature and Education, appointed by the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge.” This “Committee” had been established to sanction and recommend books of a wholesome character, but which, not dealing chiefly with religious matters, were believed to be out of the legitimate sphere of the original Society’s operations.

In July the first number of the Saturday Magazine appeared. Mr. Parker was his own editor, and many of the illustrations were from the pencil of his son, Mr. Frederick Parker, who died very young. The Saturday Magazine—one of the three parents of our cheap periodical literature—was published weekly at the low price of a penny, and, a répertoire of useful and entertaining facts, and not much else, was intended to counteract the effects of the licentious publications of the day, then the only ones within reach of the poorer classes. It was continued successfully for thirty-five volumes; but is more interesting now as the foreshadowing of a better time than for any intrinsic value of its own. It was eventually merged in Parker’s London Magazine.

445, West Strand became, of course, the Cambridge Depository for Bibles, Testaments, and Common Prayer-books printed at the University Press, and, at the death of Smith, Parker was appointed printer to the University at a salary of £400 a year, and visited Cambridge once or twice a fortnight. For many years, in spite of all his strenuous efforts and his repeated advice, the Bible Society set their faces resolutely against steam-printing. On one occasion he prepared a large edition of the nonpareil Bible at two-thirds of the price then charged, and took a dozen copies to the manager, Mr. Cockle, hoping that the Bible Society would encourage so laudable an improvement. The manager hummed and hawed, sent for the binder, told him in confidence that the Cambridge people had kindly prepared some cheap Bibles printed by machinery, but he thought “from the smallness of the margins they might not fold evenly, and was not sure that, as a cheaper ink had been used, they might not set off when pressed,” and all these predictions were verified, and the Committee would not sanction the purchase of such rubbish. Strangely enough, two or three years later, when cheap Bibles were eagerly called for, the whole of the rejected set were purchased by the Society, and no difficulty was experienced in their manipulation.

William IV. having expressed his royal wish for a Bible, Mr. Parker determined to print one specially, and on the occasion of the installation prepared a dozen sheets, which were pulled by the Duke of Wellington and other magnates; this is the first book ever printed with red rules round, and, as the “King’s Bible,” attained in various forms and sizes a great success. A committee was appointed to read and revise it, and it was purposed to make it the standard edition. One copy upon vellum was intended for the King, but as he died before its completion, her present Majesty Queen Victoria was graciously pleased to accept it. After some years Parker’s interest in the Bible Press flagged, and much dissatisfaction was caused, and about 1853 he retired altogether from the management.

Parker had from a very early date thought of printing his own books, and started an office that was afterwards removed to St. Martin’s Lane, but ultimately relinquished the management to Mr. Harrison, whom he took into partnership. When the Council of Education was formed Parker was appointed publisher, and gave every assistance in the way of funds and encouragement, and Mr. Hullah, in particular, found in him a warm supporter.

Parker was twice married; by his first wife he had two sons, Frederick and John William, and this latter, born in 1820, after receiving a good education at King’s College, was admitted into the house in 1843, and in a few years took the chief management of the general business.

Under Mr. John William Parker, Jun., the house became identified with the Liberal and Broad Church party, and till his death he held the reins of Fraser’s Magazine entirely in his own hands. Strangely had that periodical altered since the days of Maginn and Fraser. Now it was the centre, in connection with 445, West Strand, from which issued the teachings of Maurice, Kingsley, and Tom Brown—the nursery of muscular Christianity—in one sense the cradle of Christian Socialism.

Mr. Parker, Jun., in his capacity of publisher and editor felt an immense responsibility, and really believed that the bishops of the Church of England held but sinecure offices, while he, and the heads of other publishing firms, were our virtual spiritual fathers and directors. He made himself no partizan in the religious and political questions of the day, and no prospect of pecuniary advantage would induce him to publish a book until he was first assured that it was the expression of honest conviction, or the result of honest labour. “One day,” says the writer of an obituary notice, “going into Mr. Parker’s room, we found his pale face paler than usual with anger. ‘Look at these,’ he said, putting a bundle of letters into our hands, ‘or rather do not look at them.’ A lady, eminent in certain circles as a spiritual teacher, wanted him to publish a devotional book for her. She had sent him the private correspondence of some thirty different ladies, who had trusted her with the innermost secrets of their souls and consciences, as an advertisement of herself, her abilities, and her popularity. Mr. Parker was perhaps never seen more indignant. He declined the book on the spot. He returned the letters with a regret that the lady should have sent him what had been intended for no eye but her own. A few days after he showed us the lady’s reply. Stung by the rebuke, she had dropped the mask for the moment, and had told him she did not require to be lectured on her duty by an insolent tradesman.”

Of the success with which Mr. Parker’s publications met it is sufficient to mention the names of Maurice, Kingsley, Mill, Buckle, and Lewis. Fruitful of discussion as were the works of the writers mentioned, they were all thrown into a temporary shade by the cry that arose on the publication, in 1860, of “Essays and Reviews,” to which only the first named contributed. Shortly after the appearance of the volume a document was issued, bearing the signature of every bishop of the united Church, condemning many of the propositions of the book as inconsistent with an honest subscription to her formularies. This was succeeded by an address to the Archbishop of Canterbury, signed by more than 10,000 clergymen, condemning in the strongest terms the teaching of the essayists. As we all remember, the case was tried in the Court of Arches, and led to the temporary suspension of Dr. Williams and Mr. Wilson; a suspension that was afterwards reversed by the Privy Council. But this case, interesting as it may be for the student in the future, though one of too many causes célèbres of church persecution, is too well known to detain us longer at present.

Mr. Parker, who took a deep interest in all religious questions, held weekly gatherings at his house, and was loved and respected by his clients, who regarded him as a friend rather than a business aid. He died in 1861, and for the moment the knot of earnest men who were clustered round Fraser’s Magazine were dispersed. But in the year 1863 the agency of the works published by the delegates of the Oxford University Press was transferred from the other Parkers to Messrs. Macmillan, and henceforth Macmillan’s Magazine and its contributors may be considered as an offshoot from 445, West Strand.

After the death of his son, Mr. Parker, who had for some years taken little active part in the management of the business, took his old assistant, Mr. William Butler Bown, into partnership; but the connection did not last long, and in 1863 the stock and copyrights were disposed of to Messrs. Longman, who agreed to allow Mr. Bown an annuity of £750 a year, which he only lived a year and a half to enjoy.

On May 18th, 1870, Mr. John William Parker died at his country house near Farnham. By his first wife he left two daughters living, and by his second (the daughter of Dr. Mantell, the well-known geologist) one son and two daughters. He was seventy-eight years of age at the time of his death; and, though his life presents us with little that is striking or historically strange, he had played an honest part manfully, and may be remembered as one of the few instances in which a publisher, successful as an architect of his own fortune, has been wise enough to transfer his business at the very zenith of its success to the keeping of other hands, when he had ascertained that his own were too aged for its proper maintenance and management. The Broad Church, so called, and the liberal thought of the country, owe much to the now defunct firm of John William Parker and Son.