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:--