Prophecy Fulfilling by Editor

Publishing Committee · Rochester, N. Y. · Sep 5, 1854

Prophecy Fulfilling.

By Editor

And after these things I saw four angels standing on the four corners of the earth, holding the four winds of the earth, that the wind should not blow on the earth, nor on the sea, nor on any tree. And I saw another angel ascending from the east, having the seal of the living God: and he cried with a loud voice to the four angels, to whom it was given to hurt the earth and the sea, saying, Hurt not the earth, neither the sea, nor the trees, till we have sealed the servants of our God in their foreheads. Rev. vii, 1-3.

That we are upon the eve of "the time of trouble such as never was" is evident to those who watch the signs of the times, and compare them with prophecy. "And the nations were angry," says the Prophet, [Rev. xi, 18,] and so they are. The four angels were to hold the four winds, till the sealing work should be accomplished; and so the angry nations are being held.

We give the following from the N. Y. Tribune, not for its style, but the facts stated:—

"It would seem that whoever may have had any conservative leanings in Europe, must lose them when he looks at this everlasting Eastern Question. There is all Europe, incapable, convicted for the last sixty years of incapability to settle this puny little strife. There they are, France, England, Russia, going actually to war. They carry on their war for six months; and unless by mistake, or on a very shabby scale, they have not even come to blows. There they are, eighty or ninety thousand English and French soldiers at Varna, commanded by old Wellington's late military secretary, and by a Marshal of France—there they are, the French doing nothing, and the British helping them as fast as they can; and as they may think this sort of business not exactly honorable, the fleets are come up to Baltshik Roads to have a look at them and to see which of the two armies can enjoy the dolce far niente with the greatest decorum. And yet, although the allies have hitherto only been eating up the provisions upon which the Turkish army had calculated, idling away day after day at Varna for the last two months, they are not yet fit for duty. They would have relieved Silistria if required by about the middle of May next year. The troops that have conquered Algeria and learned the theory and practice of war on one of the most difficult theaters in existence, the soldiers who fought the Sikhs on the sands of the Indus, and the Kaffirs in the thorny bush of South Africa, in countries far more savage than Bulgaria—there they are, helpless and useless, fit for nothing in a country which even exports corn!

But if the allies are miserable in their performances, so are the Russians. They have had plenty of time to prepare. They have done whatever they could, for they knew from the beginning what resistance they would find. And yet, what have they been able to do? Nothing. They could not take a yard of contested ground from the Turks; they could not take Kalafat; they could not beat the Turks in one single engagement. And yet they are the same Russians who, under Munnich and Suvaroff, conquered the Black Sea coast from the Don to the Dniester. But Schilders is not Munnich, Pashkiewitch is not Suvaroff, and though the Russian soldier can bear flogging with the cane beyond all others, yet when it comes to habitual retreating, he loses his steadiness as well as anybody else.

The fact is, that conservative Europe—the Europe of "order, property, family, religion"—the Europe of monarchs, feudal lords, moneyed men, however they may be differently assorted in different countries—is once more exhibiting its extreme impotency. Europe may be rotten, but a war should have roused the sound elements; a war should have brought forth some latent energies, and assuredly there should be that much pluck among two hundred and fifty millions of men that at least one decent struggle might be got up, wherein both parties could reap some honor, such as force and spirit can carry off even from the field of battle. But no. Not only is the England of the middle classes, the France of the Bonapartes, incapable of a decent, hearty, hard-fought war; but even Russia, the country of Europe, least infected by infidel and unnerving civilization, cannot bring about anything of the kind. The Turks are fit for sudden starts of offensive action, and stubborn resistance on the defensive, but seem not to be made for large combined maneuvers with great armies. Thus everything is reduced to a degree of impuissance and a reciprocal confession of weakness, which appears to be as reciprocally expected by all parties. With governments such as they are at present, this eastern war may be carried on for thirty years, and yet come to no conclusion.