# Robert Carter: His Life and Work. 1807-1889/Chapter 4

CHAPTER IV.
IN the summer of 1846, Mr. Carter again went to Europe, taking with him his wife and eldest son, a child of eight years, and his infant daughter.
“In that second visit, I met many men in Scotland and England who did me much good. It was the last year of Dr. Chalmers’s life, and I was touched by his kind reception of me. He inquired particularly about the working of the voluntary system in America, and expressed his pleasure at meeting me. ‘We have corresponded for many years, and it is well to meet,’ he said. I told him how Mr. R. L. Stuart and I had gone from house to house and solicited aid for the Free Church. I can never forget the childlike simplicity and humble bearing of the man whom I had so long revered. I met Dr. Guthrie too at that time, and it was the beginning of many years of pleasant intercourse. Dr. John Brown and Dr. Norman McLeod showed me no little kindness. In England I attended the first great meeting of Evangelical Clergymen at the Alliance, where I met Edward Bickersteth, Baptist Noel, Tholuck, and many others. In the list of American delegates republished recently, Charles Butler was the only one that remained with me. Joseph died, and his brethren, and all that generation.”
The little party returned to America on the “Great Western,” Captain Matthews, sailing September 12. ​There were a great number of clergymen on board who were returning from the meeting of the Alliance. The voyage began under the brightest auspices, but on the afternoon of Saturday, September 19, the ship encountered a terrible storm, which lasted for thirty-six hours, during which period little hope was entertained that the vessel could ever reach land. The captain himself wrote, “It is to Divine Providence alone that we are all indebted for our safety, for during my long experience at sea I never witnessed so severe a storm; and were it not for the good qualities of my noble ship, under the direction of God, she could not have weathered it.” When the danger had all passed, the captain said to one of the passengers, “Thrice on deck I thought destruction inevitable. Each time a sea of such magnitude and power came at the ship that I thought it was all over with us. But unexpectedly each broke just at the side of the ship. Sir, the hand of the Lord was in it.”
A narrative of the voyage, prepared by one of the passengers was afterwards published by Mr. Carter. The little book was entitled “God in the Storm.” During the storm, the passengers met more than once in the cabin for united prayer, although the condition of the ship was such that it was almost impossible to move about, and there were no meals served, “the stewards bringing such articles of food as were most convenient to those who felt any disposition to eat.” As soon as the danger was over, and the elements were sufficiently quiet, although “they were still tossed about like a feather in the wind,” on the morning of Tuesday, the 22d, the passengers assembled in the main saloon, “to offer thanksgivings to God for their preservation through the recent protracted storm.” ​At this meeting, an address was delivered by the Rev. Lyman Beecher, D.D. From this, a few extracts are culled, describing the danger.
“For thirty-six hours the wind raved, and the waves rolled with a fury and power unknown, for so long a time, to the most experienced navigators on board. Travelling mountains, with the power of the iceberg, the avalanche, or the Niagara, for one day and two nights, as far as eye could reach, covered the surface of the deep, thundering loud and unceasingly around us. The onset commenced on Saturday night, and raged increasingly till Sabbath morning, when, instead of mitigation, it gathered new power, and then commenced the work of desolation.
“The sails on the fore-yards, clewed down, burst from their fastenings, and roared and flapped furiously, defying control. In the mean time, the sea rose rapidly, breaking over and against the ship. At 4 P. M. the wind had risen to a hurricane, veering to the northwest; the ship at the same time broke from her course into the trough of the sea,—a condition of extreme peril, during which a sea broke in upon the main deck, and drove a great quantity of water into the engine-room, a stroke at the heart of life, our machinery.
“At 11 A. M. a heavy wave broke over the fore part of the starboard wheelhouse, and drove the iron lifeboat and the icehouse, of some six or seven tons, furiously against the wheelhouse and side of the ship; and before they could be fastened, the careening of the ship sent them sundry times back and forth, threatening instant destruction. Such and so rapid were the successions of disaster, that an attempt was made to wear ship, as less perilous than her present condition; but finding her uncontrollable, she was permitted to return to her course.
“About noon, a mighty wave struck the starboard wheelhouse and tore up the fastenings of spikes and iron bands and bolts, throwing off the whole top and outside covering, ​breaking the under half of the spring beam, and shaking to their foundation and lowering perceptibly the timbers which sustained the wheel, thus enfeebling the arm of our power in the climax of our danger. The wave, with portions of the wreck, rolled deep and dark over the quarter-deck, One of these struck the captain on the head, while the wave drove him insensible to the stern of the ship, where the network barely saved him from an ocean grave.
“About one o’clock, while many were seated in the lower cabin, a sea struck the ship, a tremendous crash was heard on deck, and instantly the cabin was darkened and torrents of water came pouring down through the skylights. All sprang to their feet, and a scream of terror rang through the ship, which pitched and rolled so fearfully that with no little difficulty we could maintain our position upon our seats, and not a few received bruises and contusions.
“In these circumstances, a proposition was made, and accepted by all who could attend, to meet in the lower cabin for prayer. It was prayer, not in forms and words merely, but the importunity of the heart, crushed by perils from which it could not escape, and pressed by the complex interests of time and eternity, looking up to the only power in the universe that could save. In the evening, Dr. Balch administered the communion in the cabin. In the mean time the storm raged on, but from the time of our public supplications the desolations ceased.
“We had hoped the preceding night that the morning would bring a change, and in the morning that noon would witness a favorable crisis, and at noon that evening would realize our hopes, But the storm travelled on from morning to noon, and from noon to evening, with augmented power, till it became evident that we must encounter the terrors of another night; and the general opinion was that the ship could not outride the storm. And now, while prayer unceasing went up to God, I have cause to know that on the part of numbers immediate preparations for eternity ​, and not a few, I trust, with calm resignation, and peace that passeth knowledge, and joy unspeakable, were prepared to meet their God.
“And now the dreaded night came on in darkness visible and terrible convulsions. It was long and dreadful. First came a long slow roll of the ship to and fro, almost from beam’s end to beam’s end, thrice repeated. Then ensued a momentary quiet and onward motion of the ship, and then suddenly the thunder of waves began again, louder and louder, and more powerful and rending, as if every portion of our ship would be torn in fragments and scattered upon the deep. Then gradually the thunderings ceased, as if the elements, wearied and breathless by their efforts, had paused to rest and gain breath for another assault. About five o’clock a more terrible squall struck the ship suddenly,—a perfect tornado. She careened over, and buried her gunwales in the ocean, her wheelhouse covered by the waves that helped the wind to lay her on her side. There she lay for a few moments, stricken powerless, at the mercy of the waves. At this critical moment, when another wave might have finished her, the engine was true to her duty, and round and round thundered her iron wings, when, gradually recovering her upright position, the good ship came up to her course.”
The captain afterwards stated that the water was within six inches of the fires, and that another wave such as they had experienced before must have disabled the machinery, and settled the fate of the ship.
Mr. Carter was one of those who took active part in all the religious services of this exciting period. His son carried through life the impression made by his father’s calmness and faith throughout the peril. He remembers his taking him in his arms, and saying, “We are in great danger. It is very probable that our ship will go down, down, down into the great sea, and ​we shall never see your two dear little brothers in this world; but if we love and trust the Lord Jesus, our souls will go up, up, up, into the blessed heaven, and we shall live always with our God.”
He often afterwards described a scene when he entered his state-room and found his little son standing by his mother, who was very ill in her berth, and trying to comfort her. “Don’t be afraid, Mamma. Don’t you remember how we were upset in the stage-coach on the top of Sonter Hill? If God had wanted us to die, don’t you think he would have let us be killed then?” Just then a tremendous wave swept over the ship, rushing down into the cabin, spreading darkness and confusion about them, and the little fellow fell upon his knees with a cry to God for help.
The latter part of the voyage was rendered very pleasant by the society of so many congenial spirits as were brought together by the return of the Evangelical Alliance delegates. He tells the following incidents of this time.
“In 1846 I took my family to England, and succeeded in making arrangements for several important works. On my return voyage, the venerable, Lyman Beecher was a fellow passenger. One day, seated on deck, he asked me what books I had brought out with me,—anything which would be of use at home. I told him that I had spent some pleasant time with Dr. Chalmers. He had recommended a friend of his, a bookseller, to issue an edition of Turretin’s Works in four volumes, in Latin, and I was to join him and take half the edition. Dr. Beecher shook his head, and said, ‘If you have not a good backbone, that will floor you.’ I asked why he thought so. ‘I have studied that book carefully, and it will not go. We have gone far beyond ​that now. But,’ said he, ‘would you like me to tell you how you could make your fortune?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ ‘I propose to issue a uniform edition of my works, and they will go like hot cakes. Would you like to publish them?’ I replied, that they would suit New England better than New York. Some months later, when Turretin was ready, a gentleman came into my store and asked for it. He sat down and examined it a little, and, turning to me, said, ‘I wonder you ventured on this large work.’ I told him that others had shared in that idea, and told the story of Dr. Beecher. He laughed heartily, and said, ‘He is my father.’ Henry Ward Beecher had just come to Brooklyn, and I had not met him before. My share of the edition was soon disposed of, and some hundreds more came from Scotland, which found a ready market.”
“Shortly after my return from England, I published an edition of Henry’s Commentary, in six volumes, octavo. It was my largest undertaking. The stereotype plates were printed by a printer in Spruce Street, who kept them deposited in his vault. One day he came to me and said he required the room in the vault, and asked me to remove them to my own vault in Broadway, I told him to take them out at his own convenience and send them to me, and I would pay for the trouble, but not to leave them an hour after they were taken from his vault. Contrary to these orders, he took them out on a Saturday, left them on the floor of his office, and that night several buildings were burned down and these plates went with them, a dead loss to me. They cost originally about eighteen thousand dollars. The next year I went again to England, and bought another set of plates, from which we have printed many editions.”
​The following sketch of his dear old friend, Thomas De Witt, D.D., of the Collegiate Dutch Reformed Church, contains some reminiscences of the visit to Europe in 1846, and is therefore inserted here.
“My father landed in New York on a Sabbath morning, and I took him with me to church. Dr. De Witt was in the pulpit. His subject was the tomb in the garden. The last step in the humiliation of our dear Redeemer drew forth the tenderness, the rich illustration, and the warm love of the youthful preacher. My father had been six weeks at sea. He was hungering and thirsting for the bread of life, and he found it that day. ‘Oh!’ said he, as we left the church, ‘what a sermon! He is a wonderful preacher. He must be very popular.’ ‘Yes,’ said I, ‘he is one of the most effective preachers in our city.’ I had been only a year in New York then, and had not been introduced to the Doctor, but I had a deep reverence for him.
“Shortly after I commenced business Dr. De Witt came to see me. He talked so pleasantly that I was induced to lay before him my plan of work. He listened patiently, and was evidently much pleased. He said, ‘I shall call attention to your work in the Christian Intelligencer. We need such a store here.’ In the following week he fulfilled his promise, and urged the clergymen and members of the churches to call and see my stock. The library of the converted Jew, Mr. Fry, had been sold at auction, and I had bought a large part of it. The folios, too large to go on shelves, were strewed on the floor, and the good Doctor bought the Works of Bishop Reynolds, a huge folio, I offered to send it home for him, but he said, ‘No, I shall take it myself.’ A few days after the notice in the Intelligencer, a clergyman from Ulster County ​came in and took a number of the folios and gave me $110 in gold for them. I think that was the largest sale I had made. For nearly forty years the kind-hearted Doctor treated me as a son. His reviews came out week after week in the papers, and they were written by a graceful pen. In 1846 I had the privilege of accompanying him and his daughter to England. Before we landed, he said to me: ‘If you will go direct from Liverpool to Edinburgh, I will go with you. I had intended to go to Holland first; but as you are acquainted in Scotland and I am a stranger there, I would like to go with you. To this I gladly assented. We took Melrose, Dryburgh, and Abbotsford on our way, stopped a few hours in my native village, where we took tea with the old minister that had baptized all my father’s eleven children and had received me at the age of fourteen into the church, and who was in my eyes a meet companion for the good Doctor. A little incident occurred which has often come up to me since. On our way from Melrose to Dryburgh, where Sir Walter Scott was buried, we crossed the Tweed in a ferry-boat. The Doctor, rubbing his hands, exclaimed, ‘If this is so beautiful, what must heaven be?’ In Edinburgh we met Dr. Chalmers, with whom we spent two delightful forenoons. We also met Drs. Guthrie, Candlish, Cunningham, and others, and the dear Doctor was in his element. On Sabbath we heard Guthrie, Gordon, and Candlish preach. In the evening the Doctor said to me, ‘What a day this has been! such preaching!’
“When he visited my store, he usually inquired what success this book and that had. He seemed to take a personal interest in them, as if he had been a partner. On one occasion he bought a number of books for a son of Dr. Scudder, who was a student at New ​Brunswick. He said to me, ‘Would you like to give him something?’ I had just published Poole’s Annotations, in three imperial octavo volumes. I said, ‘I will give him this.’ About two years later, a young man entered my store and bought some books. He said to me, ‘You gave my brother Poole’s Commentary; I value it very highly, and need it as much as he.’ I gave it to him. Still later, a third came with the same story, and received it. ‘How many sons has your father?’ I asked. ‘Seven.’ ‘And do you suppose they will all study for the ministry?’ ‘I suppose they will.’ How many got Poole I do not remember, but I think it was good seed cast into good ground.
“When the Doctor made his visits among his people, he included my family. And oh how pleasant it sounded, when I returned home in the evening, to hear my dear wife say, ‘Dr. De Witt was here to-day’! The Wednesday before he died, my wife and I paid him a visit. It was a very tender one. He said, ‘Whether it is my phlegmatic constitution or not, I cannot say, but I have not had a doubt of my interest in Christ.’ He seemed in the land of Beulah. He was seated in his arm-chair in the library in perfect peace. Oh, how much I owe to him! Verily he has his reward.”
It would not perhaps be too much to say, that there was no layman in this country more largely known among the clergy than Robert Carter. His store for many years, especially after its removal to Broadway, almost served the purpose of a ministers’ exchange or a ministerial club-room. On Monday mornings, the minister’s rest day, the store would be filled with clergymen, and the most delightful conversations and discussions would be carried on, in all which Mr. Carter took his part and held his own. Ministers from ​neighboring towns would come in for the purpose of joining the charmed circle. The Princeton and Union Seminary Professors were often there. None of them were more revered and beloved by Mr. Carter than Dr. James W. Alexander; but there was a long list of others whom he delighted to meet. Among the honored names are those of the Hodges and Alexanders, of Drs. Miller, Smith, Skinner, McElroy, Potts, Krebs, Murray, Phillips, Hutton, and Cuyler.
Episcopal and Methodist bishops and clergy, ministers of the Baptist, Dutch Reformed, and other denominations, mingled with the rest, and it almost seemed as if it might be said that the idea that there is “no sect in heaven” had been realized on earth. In Mr. Carter’s heart the unity and brotherhood of the Church of Christ was an accepted fact. Among his dearest personal friends were Bishop McIlvaine and Drs. Tyng, Newton, and Muhlenberg of the Episcopal Church, all of whom were frequenters of the symposiums at his store. On his list of authors there are as many Episcopal as Presbyterian names, and Baptists, Methodists, Congregationalists, and Quakers are all represented. It may astonish some of his orthodox friends to know that there are even Unitarian and Roman Catholic names on the list. And yet he was most conscientious in regard to never publishing anything which he did not personally accept as true, and calculated to do good.
He was so careful in regard to publishing nothing that he could not approve, that he seldom published anything that he had not read. There were a few of his authors whose opinions he was as sure of as he was of his own, and whose writings he accepted without reading. This careful supervision involved an ​immense amount of reading of manuscripts, often to a late hour at night, sometimes in very difficult handwriting, and yet to the close of his life he never used spectacles.
His authors were always his friends. At his funeral Dr. McCosh paid a warm tribute to his liberal dealings with him. Spurgeon wrote to him on one occasion, “I am glad that Robert Carter and Brothers are not only publishers of my sermons, but also true and generous friends, with whose conduct I am more than satisfied.” Dr. Guthrie and his family bore similar testimony. After his death, Dr. Macduff of Glasgow wrote an article about him for a Scottish paper, from which the following is an extract:—
“In these days, when the questions of copyright and royalty between this country and America are keenly debated, and caustic reflections are often, and I doubt not at times with good reason, thrown out regarding the niggardly dealings of Transatlantic publishers, it is only a pleasure and a duty on the part of an author to record with gratitude an exception.
“My intercourse with his house extends over a quarter of a century. In addition to modest royalties paid by the firm, there has been over and above, for a long course of years, a personal annual gift of £25. More than once I attempted remonstrance. It was of no avail. Regularly as the end of January came around, the well known yellow envelope made its appearance with its wonted contents, the value of which was greatly enhanced by the warm and generous words which invariably accompanied it. We had met more than once pleasantly, both in this country and on the Continent. On the latter occasion, we formed one of a happy travelling party with the late Dr. Guthrie. Possibly from his reticence regarding many a good deed, he might not like my making this small revelation, But I make it, as I think ​it worth making, And I am not sorry, for other and better than money reasons,—for having the opportunity along with the many who knew and prized his worth, of adding a stone to the cairn of Robert Carter.”
These are but specimens of many similar testimonies, chosen only because the authors are of world-wide reputation.
In 1848 he took into partnership with him his two youngest brothers, Walter and Peter, and removed to the store No. 285 Broadway, where they remained eight years. The relations between the brothers were always of the most affectionate nature, never shadowed by the slightest approach to a difference. When separated, letters were interchanged every day. When one was sick, the others saw him daily. The relationship between them was like that of father and son added to that of brother.
Mr. Peter Carter, who was associated with his brother forty-nine years, first as clerk and then as partner, and who was nearly seventeen years a member of his family, probably knowing him better than any other man, thus writes of him:—
“My brother was pre-eminently a peacemaker. He greatly delighted in the beatitude of Matthew v. 9, and was always ready to use his influence to heal and prevent division. One day, many years ago, a leading business man of the city, the senior partner of a firm of two brothers, called at our store and said, ‘My brother is about to leave me, not from any dissatisfaction, but because he thinks it is his duty to engage in something else, and he has the most extravagant ideas of the value of his share in the business, What am I to do?’
“My brother thought a moment, and then said, ‘If I were you, I would say to him in the kindest way, “Write on a piece of paper just what you think you ought to have for your ​share in the business.” If it is at all reasonable or possible for you to grant it, do so by all means. But if not, then see if he will not modify it a little; but grant it as he writes it, if you possibly can, for you will never be sorry for doing so.’
“The gentleman went away determined to act on this advice. In about a week he came back to say that he had done as my brother suggested, and that the written demand was much more reasonable than he expected, so he granted it at once. The brothers parted the best of friends. Some years after, when the eldest brother, who had been greatly prospered in business, died, in his will he left his younger brother, who had not been so successful, a very handsome legacy.
“Another incident may be mentioned. The owners of the copyright of Webster’s Royal Octavo Dictionary had given written permission to a publishing firm in New York to issue certain smaller Dictionaries with the name of Webster attached to them. These publishers began the preparation of an edition of the Dictionary which the copyright owners considered likely to compete with the Royal Octavo edition. This, in their opinion, was not permitted by the contract held by the New York publishers. A suit was brought against these publishers, but the judge, before whom it came very wisely said that this was a matter about which he and his fellow justices had no knowledge, and therefore decided that two publishers who knew the use and custom of the trade, and a lawyer who understood the legal points, should act as arbitrators in the case, For this purpose the judge chose Mr. J. H. Butler, of Northampton, Mass., and my brother Robert, as the two publishers, and the Hon. W. M. Evarts, now representing the State of New York in the United States Senate, as the lawyer. The meetings were held in the Everett House, Seventeenth Street, New York.
The discussion turned chiefly on the meaning of two words, size and intermediate. The owners of the copyright contending that size necessarily includes the idea of shape, used the following homely illustration to support this view: ​‘Suppose you went to a shoemaker and ordered a pair of boots made to measure. If when they came home they proved to be half an inch too long and a quarter of an inch too narrow, would it be any satisfaction to you should the shoemaker say that the boots, if filled with water, would hold exactly the same quantity as if they had been made as they were ordered? Certainly not, for size includes shape as well.’ In regard to the word intermediate the question was whether it was anywhere between two points, or near the middle. The owners of the copyright affirmed the latter. One of the ablest advocates on the side of the copyright owners was that grand old man, the late Chauncey Goodrich, of Yale College, and he came armed with a perfect legion of authorities. The meetings were continued for nearly a week, and resulted in a verdict in favor of the owners of the copyright.
“One thing I used greatly to admire in him was the patience with which he listened to those who came to him for money. He would politely seat them, and then hear their story. Many a disheartened advocate of a good cause gathered fresh courage after an interview with him, and felt gratitude for the contribution that almost invariably followed. Sometimes one after another of these needy applicants would appear on the same morning, and yet neither his patience nor his gifts ever seemed to fail.”
He often told a story of two partners in business with whom he was well acquainted. They quarrelled, and dissolved partnership. One of them was telling Mr. Carter of the circumstances, and he said to him: “Mr. B., you profess to be a Christian man. It is your duty to live peaceably, and rather to suffer wrong than quarrel. Cannot you arrange this matter with Mr. D.?” Mr. B. said he was willing to do all in his power to effect a reconciliation, or a separation on friendly terms. He felt that it was not best for him to talk with his partner any more on the subject, but he asked Mr. Carter if he ​would not go to his partner and offer him any terms that Mr. Carter thought right and reasonable. He went and was very kindly received, and the two talked over the matter pleasantly for a time, and there seemed good prospect of the affair being amicably settled, when suddenly Mr. D. started to his feet, exclaiming, “You don’t know my partner, Mr. Carter. He is a bad man, and I would not settle this matter if you offered me fifty thousand dollars.” “I have no fifty thousand to offer.” And the interview ended. Years passed, and one day Mr. D. entered Mr. Carter’s store, and sought a private conversation with him. He told him that he felt himself to be a changed man, that he realized the worldliness of all his former life, and that the night before he had gone up to the altar of the Methodist Church which he attended, and that he believed himself converted. “I came to you this morning, because I knew how glad you would be.” Mr. Carter rejoiced with him, and then said: “It is your duty to be reconciled to your brother, You remember on what terms you parted with Mr. B. Will you not seek reconciliation with him?” “That is all settled. I went to see him after church last night. He came down greatly surprised to hear that I was there, I asked his forgiveness, and we fell into each other’s arms, and shed tears together. All that breach is healed.” “Since you parted,” Mr. Carter said, “you have been prosperous, while your old partner has been unsuccessful. Could you not find him some opening in business?” “I will do my best to find him one.”
Mr. Carter had many such incidents in his intercourse with his compeers in business. As he went he preached, sometimes audibly, but always by his life. A friend writes of him:—
“A Western publisher said to me one day, ‘I don’t profess to be a Christian myself, and I don’t believe much in many of those who do; but I know one thing, if there is a consistent man in the publishing trade, Robert Carter is that man.’ ‘Has he been talking to you about religion!’ ‘No, he never said a word to me directly about religion in all my intercourse with him; but the atmosphere in which he moved was so pure and holy, I could not help looking to see if there was not a halo around his face. His business intercourse with his customers impressed them with his integrity and conscientiousness, and they implicitly trusted his every word. Robert Carter is a true, honest good man; there is no cant, no deception nor trickery, about him’ ”
Mr. Carter himself writes as follows:—
“Among the booksellers with whom I had dealings in my early years, there was one from whom I purchased much of the material which I wanted. When I entered his store, he usually came to me, and we had a pleasant chat. He was kind and friendly, but his views were in some regards so different from mine that I have often wondered why he was so ready to talk with me. One day when I called, his son said to me, ‘My father is very sick; I wish you could see him.’ He had been taken ill in the country at the house of his daughter, and I thought I could not go to him. A little later, I was informed that he had returned home rather better, and would like to see me. I immediately went to his house, and found him much better than I feared. He received me very cordially, told me he had retired from business, had made his will, and was now free from earthly cares. I expressed my satisfaction at this, and hoped he might have a peaceful old age after a very active life. ‘But,’ said I, ‘will you allow me to ask you a question?’ ‘Yes, sir, ​a thousand, if you like.’ ‘Then,’ said I, ‘ever since I knew you, you were laying plans for future work. I would like to know what arrangements you have made for that eternal world to which we are all hastening.’ ‘None at all,’ said he. ‘Is this wise? Can you leave the vast concerns of eternity unsettled?’ ‘No, sir,’ said he, ‘it is madness.’ ‘Then,’ said I, ‘there is yet time. He is able to save to the uttermost. The voice is still heard, Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.’ We had a very tender interview. When I left him, his dear wife accompanied me to the door, and said, ‘I never saw my husband so melted before.’ The next day his daughter came to my store in his carriage, and asked me to ride up with her and see her father. ‘He has been ill at ease since you left him.’ I found him in great distress. ‘What can I do? I have received blessing after blessing, and I never thanked God for them. Is there yet hope for me?’ I could only point to the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the world. Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved. I dwelt especially on the word now. ‘Yes,’ said he, ‘if that applies to any, it does to me. I cannot be long here.’ ‘This moment let us ask, and He will hear. With many tears, we asked—oh how earnestly!—for pardon, for a broken heart, for a right spirit, for peace with God through faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. Day after day I visited him for several months, and what a marvellous change came over him. His loathing of sin, his adoration of the dear Redeemer who washed him in His precious blood, his distrust of himself, and his new-born faith in the atonement, were most marked. He had attended church during a long life, but he said his mind was elsewhere. My language to him was almost entirely in the words of ​Scripture. The Holy Spirit makes the word quick and powerful for the conviction and conversion of sinners.”
All his life through Mr. Carter was an acceptable visitor at the bedsides of the sick and dying. He was an invaluable pastor’s assistant, unwearied in his loving ministrations, ever tender and sympathetic. His counsels, and especially his prayers, were most appropriate, and many a time he was roused in the night to help some dying person in his passage through the valley of the shadow of death, sitting beside him, and whispering words of faith and hope until the ears were closed to every earthly sound, and then turning to the mourning friends with words of heavenly comfort. For weeks afterwards, his visits would be frequent and welcome. There are hundreds of people now living in whose minds he is associated with their hours of deepest distress, as the faithful and sympathizing and sustaining friend and counsellor. Many who had refused to listen to him in their hours of prosperity, when he besought them to make their peace with God, would remember him when days of sorrow came, and send for one who was so ready to come at their first call. Of him the Master will surely say, “I was sick, and ye visited me.” He visited rich and poor alike, was often in stately as well as squalid homes. In his house there were many tokens of gratitude and affection, sent by the sick whom he had comforted; but more often it was in the homes of poverty that he was found, and he ministered to the physical as well as to the spiritual wants of the needy.
For the last thirty years of his life he seldom went to his place of business in the afternoon, giving only the morning hours to work of that kind. His afternoons were largely spent in Christian work, many of ​them on important committees; but on the majority of them he and his wife would go out together to visit the poor, the sick, and the afflicted. When the ear heard them, then it blessed them; when the eye saw them, it bare witness to them; the blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon them, and they caused the widow’s heart to sing for joy; the cause that they knew not, they searched out. The Psalmist's blessing on him that considereth the poor came upon them.
The following narrative from his own pen may find a place here:—
“I was standing by my desk after the opening services of the Sabbath School were over, when the door opened and a little girl looked in, as if afraid to enter. I went up to her and asked if she wished to attend the school, to which she replied, ‘Yes.’ ‘What is your name?’ ‘Kate. On this, one of the teachers came up and said, ‘I want Kate in my class.’ ‘Very well,’ said I, ‘she may go.’ This was to poor Kate a new life. She was the daughter of a brave pilot, whose business it was to conduct ships into the harbor of New York. Kate was his only child, One day when a fearful storm was raging, he offered his services to go out on his dangerous work. He went, but never returned. His wife and child looked out impatiently for his return, but in vain. After selling some of the articles which they thought they could dispense with, the poor mother went out and washed and scrubbed to gain bread for herself and child. One day she was washing at the house of one of my teachers, when the bell rung and Kate came to see her mother. It was a wet day, and the teacher took Kate and dried her by the fire and gave her something to eat. Her heart was unaccountably drawn to the child. After a little talk ​she asked Kate if she would like to come to the Sabbath school. The child looked to her mother, The mother said, ‘It is the only day I have her with me; I cannot let her go.’ After several other visits, the mother consented to let her go, and so she came. I could see the intense interest the child took in her lessons. She had attended the public school during the week, but had received no religious instruction. This was all new. From her first entrance nothing could keep her away on the Sabbath till one day I missed her. I inquired of the teacher what was the matter. She said, ‘She must be sick.’ I took her address, and the next day my wife went with me to see her. We found her in a rear building upstairs. She was very sick, but her mother had to leave her to do her work. After talking with her, and prayer, I rose to bid her good by. The poor child looked so pale and thin and feeble, that I was deeply moved. I took out a ten-dollar bill, and handed it to her. She burst into tears, and said, ‘I cannot take it, sir; there are many poorer than I.’ ‘Yes,’ said I, ‘but you must take it. You need some delicacies now, and your mother will get them for you.’ I little thought that the mother had been told, if her rent were not paid on the following Friday, they would be turned into the street. The rent was six dollars a month, and Kate’s illness had run the poor widow behind. Kate recovered, and returned to school. One Sabbath evening she read to her mother the old, old story of the crucifixion of Jesus, The poor child burst into tears and said: ‘O mother, I am so happy since I learned that Jesus loved me and died for me! The minister to-day invited those who loved Jesus to come to-morrow to his house to converse with him about remembering Him at the approaching ​communion. I want to remember Him. Mother, may I go?’ The mother consented. Kate’s testimony was remarkably clear. It was simply love to Christ and a desire to serve Him. The Blessed Spirit had spoken to her heart. Some time afterwards the dear child was reading to her mother a portion of the Gospels. She looked tenderly in her mother’s face, and said, ‘Mother, do you love the dear Saviour?’ The mother shook her head. ‘O mother, if you knew how happy I am since I loved Him, you would love Him too,’ The mother rose and entered a little closet and shut the door. Her groans pierced the poor child’s heart. She rose and tapped at the door, and asked, ‘May I come in?’ ‘Yes.’ She went and wept and talked with her, and then prayed fervently that her mother might be made a new creature. The prayer was answered. The mother sat with Kate at the communion table, and it was a happy home, and there was joy in heaven. Kate was again taken sick. Three little nieces of mine visited her regularly. They took various delicacies to her, but they did more. They could sing sweetly, and they sang ‘Jesus loves me, this I know,’ and ‘Jesus paid it all, all the debt I owe.’ ‘Ah!’ said the poor child, ‘that is my hymn. I owed a heavy debt and had nothing to pay it with. How good He is!’ In my visits to Kate, I never heard a murmur or a doubt. Nothing but faith and hope and joy. I often blessed God for such a testimony. Had I no other fruit of my forty years’ labor in the Sabbath school, this alone was worth it all. One evening Kate said to her mother, ‘I am going home soon to be with Jesus. What will you do when I am gone?’ ‘I shall stay here where I shall have the Sabbath to myself. It is a precious place, Kate, where you and I have found Jesus.’ ‘That is just what I ​want, mother.’ The dear girl had no anxiety about herself, but she yearned over her mother. On Thanksgiving morning, before the good people of New York arose to give thanks for the mercies of the preceding year, Kate went to give thanks in the house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. Two days later a few who knew her worth followed the dear remains to their last resting place. There shall they remain till the trump shall raise the quick and dead.”
John Griscom, LL. D., Mr. Carter’s early and highly valued friend and patron, died February 25, 1852, Dr. Griscom was widely known as a learned and influential member of society, a professor of chemistry, and an able contributor to the leading scientific journals of the day. Mr. Carter’s love for him never waned, but he spoke of him with the utmost gratitude and tenderness to the last days of his own life. In a letter written shortly after Dr. Griscom’s death, he speaks with pleasure of his intimate acquaintance “with one who never met me without a smile of complacency, and whose sound advice and kind encouragement were never withheld in time of need.” Dr. Griscom removed to Burlington, N. J., shortly after Mr. Carter’s arrival in New York, but their friendship never lapsed. Mr. Carter writes of him:—
“On his first visit to my dwelling, after my marriage, he looked around the parlor, and with unaffected kindness addressed me: ‘Little didst thou think, a few years ago, when thou called on me, a poor Scotch lad, that thou shouldst be so soon in such comfortable circumstances. I am glad to see thee so happily situated.’
“Some years later, he again dined with me, and spent the evening. Taking my little boy, three years old, on his knee, he heard him, with evident pleasure, repeat a ​number of the Psalms in the old Scottish version, and remarked that, though they had not the smooth flow of some later versions, they yet had the merit of keeping close to the original. He then repeated to the child Montgomery’s version of the 72d Psalm, telling him that he knew the author well, and esteemed him highly.
“On my apologizing for certain forms which, as a Presbyterian, I observed in my family, he earnestly replied, ‘Go on in thy usual way; I don’t want thee to change.’
“After I began to publish books, he manifested a warm interest in their success. Each visit he made, he questioned me regarding their sale, and often did his eye kindle with animation, as I related to him the large sale of some of his favorite authors I was often surprised by his largeness of view. He did not disparage books because there were some things in them contrary to his views of church order, but would remark, ‘The spirit of this book is excellent, though there are some particulars in which I do not agree with the author.’ In fact, few critiques upon our publications have been so highly valued as those from his pen.”
In Dr. Griscom’s Autobiography, after a sketch of some length of his friend Robert Carter, we find the following words: “I make this statement as a preamble to the fact that he so abounds in gratitude for the friendship which I was at first induced to treat him with as to present to me copies of any work that issues from his press which I have any wish to read. I have from this source received an accession to my library of more than two hundred volumes. I could not do less than commemorate such disinterested kindness, such an effusion of gratitude, at once challenging and receiving the grateful emotions of my heart.”
​Mr. Carter writes some years later to John H. Griscom, M. D., son of his old friend:—
“In looking back to my intercourse with your venerable father during the last twenty years of his life, I cannot express the feelings that oppress me. I was introduced to him as a young stranger from a distant land,—of a different creed as I then supposed, differing as I believed in hopes and fears, in joys and sorrows,—and yet there proved to be a wondrous oneness and resemblance. When I first knew him, our intercourse was purely of a literary kind. Though I cannot say that he introduced me to Milton, Cowper, and others of our favorite poets, I can yet state that he enhanced greatly the estimate I had of their beauties. After several years of pleasant progress, our paths diverged. He went to Rhode Island, and I entered the business world here. When we again met, our views were greatly changed, and yet we were more as one than before. The books that meanwhile had absorbed my attention I found to my great joy were equally attractive to him. Chalmers, Jay, McCosh, McCheyne, Stevenson, and others were his daily companions. He told me that he had perused Chalmers on the Romans with most careful attention, and that he did not find a single paragraph which was not supported by Scripture. In this book he found distinct statements regarding the total depravity of man, and his consequent ruin; the interposition of the blessed Saviour for his recovery; his quickening and renewal by the Eternal Spirit, and the glorious work of sanctification begun, carried on, and perfected through the same holy agency; and he was ready to set his seal to the truth of them all. His views of spiritual truth grew brighter and more cheerful as he approached the end of his peaceful career. The precious Saviour, in his ​incarnation, his sufferings, his death, his resurrection and ascension, was the theme of his daily study. The Lord our Shepherd, and Christ on the cross, proved truly refreshing to his yearning spirit.
“There were some peculiar views in which, though I did not agree with him, he yet showed the accuracy with which he examined truth. For example, he said to me, I do not like the phrase ‘the word of God, as applied to the Scriptures. Jesus Christ is the Word,—we should not apply the term to aught else.
“I shall not easily forget the last interview I had with him. He was blind and feeble, but cheerful and even joyous. I reached his pleasant little home in Burlington about six o’clock P.M. He gave me a most cordial welcome, told me what books his daughter had been reading aloud, and how refreshing they had been to him, ascended from these little rills to the pure, clear, ever-gushing fountain,—the Book of books; went back to the days of other years, and described the efforts of great and good men to put in circulation the Holy Scriptures; dilated upon the formation of the American Bible Society, at the first meeting of which he was present, and traced down the blessings that flowed from this noble institution throughout this broad land.
“I had often enjoyed sweet converse with him, but never had I communed so closely with the inner man. It seemed quite on the verge of heaven. I dare not say more. I tread on sacred ground.”
This last interview with his aged friend was one on which Mr. Carter always loved to dwell. He had stopped at Burlington unexpectedly on his way home from a meeting of the General Assembly. Mrs. Griscom ushered him into her husband's study, where he sat in blindness, with the words, “Thee canst not think who has ​come to see thee, John. It is a friend whom thee greatly values.” “From New York or Philadelphia?” “From New York.” “Is it Robert Carter?” “It is.” The old man rose from his chair and held out his arms for an embrace, and then followed the interview which Mr. Carter describes in his letter. At bedtime the old gentleman proposed that they should have family worship together in Mr. Carter’s usual form before they separated, and accordingly Mr. Carter read the Bible and knelt in prayer, while Dr. and Mrs. Griscom kept their seats, as it was contrary to their custom to kneel. Early in the morning there came a knock at Mr. Carter’s door, and Dr. Griscom’s voice said, “I am not allowed to get up in the morning so early, but I wish thee would come to my room as soon as thee is dressed, that we may talk again.” Mr. Carter was soon beside his friend’s bed, and he said to him: “I lie awake much in the night, and last night I was thinking about thy prayer. I am convinced that we lose much in our Society by not having audible prayer, family worship, and blessing at table. If I were to begin life over again, I would do differently.”
They soon after parted, never to meet again on earth, but one of the joys of eternity to them both will be in each other’s society.
Their correspondence had been constant. Even after the Doctor lost his sight, he wrote frequently, his daughter placing his pen at the beginning of each line, and he would then write on till he came to the edge of the paper. He wrote once, “Thee seest what a long letter I have written thee, and yet I have not seen a single word of it.”
A testimony similar to Dr. Griscom’s to the power of Mr. Carter’s family prayers was given by a Unitarian ​friend some years after. This gentleman met Mr. Carter at a watering place, and became well acquainted with him. The following winter he came to New York to attend a convention of the Unitarian Church, and stayed with Mr. Carter for about a week. He was always present at family prayers, but did not kneel, as he had not been accustomed to such a service. When he was bidding farewell he said to his host: “I have been much interested in your custom of family prayer, and it seems to me an invaluable one. I mean to follow the practice myself when I go home, and I shall try to introduce it into our denomination as far as I am able.”
The following allusion to his prayers appeared in the Presbyterian of January 8, 1890, just after his death.
“There are a great many persons in this land and other lands who know well the name of the late Robert Carter. They found it imprinted, perhaps, on the title page of some of the volumes most precious to them,―of the books which lie near them in sickness, or in hours of secret devotion. Others came to know this name by its association with some beneficent deed, done quietly and revealed unto them accidentally. But there are others, and of these many are ministers and elders in the churches, who will forever associate the name of this well beloved man with the prayers which they heard him utter. He was often a member of the General Assembly; he was unfailing in his presence at the devotional meetings of the Assembly, and by those who knew his power he was often called upon to lead these meetings in prayer. Always excellent, these prayers at times were wonderful. There was no wandering, no hesitation, no lack of well ordered words, Then there was such a large comprehension of the Gospel of Christ, and of its truths as wrought into the personal experience of the man; while through all there ran a tide of emotion which touched all ​hearts around him, as they discerned the grace of God in him, and the quickening power of the love of Christ in his soul. No liturgy we ever heard could compare with it.”
His prayers were eminently Scriptural, and he made the Word of God his study and delight. He was to the close of his life the first of the family in the breakfast-room, and there he would sit reading the Bible until all were assembled, and he could begin family prayers. He read the Bible through every nine months, and the copy of the Scriptures in which his marks are preserved is treasured by his children.