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The first flute was a princess, sweet and proud, Of winds and freedoms crashing the sea shores. To raise revenge and swords to singing, loud, I made my flutes on bones of my foes...
РБ-34, только что сошедшего со сборочного стола, прислали ко мне. Оберман куда-то ушел, и я сам повел его к испытательному стенду...
В Ялте тепло, по-нашему то ли конец мая, то ли начало сентября. Трава во всяком случае зеленая. В море, правда, уже не купаются...
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This new chief, quite ready to appear on the political
stage, and to measure himself against Louis XIV., however
gigantic the fortunes of the Grand Monarch loomed in the
future, was William, Prince of Orange, son of William II.,
and grandson, by his mother Henrietta Stuart, of Charles I.
of England. We have mentioned him before as the person by
whom the people expected to see the office of Stadtholder
restored.
This young man was, in 1672, twenty-two years of age. John
de Witt, who was his tutor, had brought him up with the view
of making him a good citizen. Loving his country better than
he did his disciple, the master had, by the Perpetual Edict,
extinguished the hope which the young Prince might have
entertained of one day becoming Stadtholder. But God laughs
at the presumption of man, who wants to raise and prostrate
the powers on earth without consulting the King above; and
the fickleness and caprice of the Dutch combined with the
terror inspired by Louis XIV., in repealing the Perpetual
Edict, and re-establishing the office of Stadtholder in
favour of William of Orange, for whom the hand of Providence
had traced out ulterior destinies on the hidden map of the
future.
The Grand Pensionary bowed before the will of his fellow
citizens; Cornelius de Witt, however, was more obstinate,
and notwithstanding all the threats of death from the
Orangist rabble, who besieged him in his house at Dort, he
stoutly refused to sign the act by which the office of
Stadtholder was restored. Moved by the tears and entreaties
of his wife, he at last complied, only adding to his
signature the two letters V. C. (Vi Coactus), notifying
thereby that he only yielded to force.
It was a real miracle that on that day he escaped from the
doom intended for him.
John de Witt derived no advantage from his ready compliance
with the wishes of his fellow citizens. Only a few days
after, an attempt was made to stab him, in which he was
severely although not mortally wounded...
