The April 1845 issue of Godey’s Lady’s Book, an eminent women’s magazine
published in Philadelphia between 1830 and 1878, contains a short story by
‘Miss Mary Davenant’ called ‘Helen Berkley; or, the Mercenary Marriage’. In
it, the heroine’s potential lover is assessed by comparison to the hero of Regina
Maria Roche’s 1796 Minerva Press novel, The Children of the Abbey: ‘But you
know well enough that you never had such an admirer as he is; so handsome, so
genteel—just like Lord Mortimer in the “Children of the Abbey”’.1 The reference is an intriguing one, suggesting not just the long-lasting and geographically
far-reaching appeal of Roche’s most celebrated novel but also the similar persistence of the London-based Minerva Press itself. With modest origins in the
publications of liveryman-turned-printer-and-bookseller William Lane (1738 or
1745/46–1814) in the 1770s and ’80s,2 the Minerva Press was officially founded
in 1790 and quickly established itself as Britain’s leading publisher of popular
fiction. It enjoyed particular success amongst readers—and, correspondingly,
attracted the special ire of critics—in the last decade of the eighteenth century
and the first few years of the nineteenth, by which point it was principally categorised and contemptuously dismissed as the purveyor of cheap, unoriginal and
thoroughly forgettable circulating-library fictions. By 1845 and the publication
of ‘Helen Berkley’, the Minerva Press had apparently been consigned to the annals of history (and bad literature): Lane himself had retired in 1809, handing
the business on to his former apprentice Anthony King Newman (d. 1858), who
began publishing with Lane in 1801. Under Newman’s guidance, the press began
to focus more heavily on children’s literature and remainder publication and,
in 1829, omitted ‘Minerva’ from its name altogether, possibly in recognition of
its new specialisations and its inability to compete with now more prominent
and respectable publishers of popular fiction.