Alain-René Lesage, J. Meade Falkner, Johann von Besser, Sophus Schandorph, Sloan Wilson, Otto Zierer

De Franse schrijver Alain-René Lesage werd geboren op 8 mei 1668 in Sarzeau. Zie ook mijn blog van 8 mei 2009 en ook mijn blog van 8 mei 2010.


Uit: Histoire de Gil Blas de Santillane


Blas de Santillane, mon père, après avoir longtemps porté les armes pour le service de la monarchie espagnole, se retira dans la ville où il avait pris naissance. Il y épousa une petite bourgeoise qui n’était plus de sa première jeunesse, et je vins au monde dix mois après leur mariage. Ils allèrent ensuite demeurer à Oviédo, où ma mère se mit femme de chambre, et mon père écuyer. Comme ils n’avaient pour tout bien que leurs gages, j’aurais couru risque d’être assez mal élevé, si je n’eusse pas eu dans la ville un oncle chanoine. Il se nommait Gil Perez. Il était frère aîné de ma mère et mon parrain. Représentez-vous un petit homme haut de trois pieds et demi, extraordinairement gros, avec une tête enfoncée entre les deux épaules : voilà mon oncle. Au reste, c’était un ecclésiastique qui ne songeait qu’à bien vivre, c’est-à-dire qu’à faire bonne chère ; et sa prébende, qui n’était pas mauvaise, lui en fournissait les moyens.
Il me prit chez lui dès mon enfance, et se chargea de mon éducation. Je lui parus si éveillé, qu’il résolut de cultiver mon esprit. Il m’acheta un alphabet, et entreprit de m’apprendre lui-même à lire ; ce qui ne lui fut pas moins utile qu’à moi ; car, en me faisant connaître mes lettres, il se remit à la lecture, qu’il avait toujours fort négligée, et, à force de s’y appliquer, il parvint à lire couramment son bréviaire, ce qu’il n’avait jamais fait auparavant.“



Alain-René Lesage (8 mei 1668 – 17 november 1747)

Borstbeeld in Vannes


De Engelse dichter en schrijver John Meade Falkner werd geboren op 8 mei 1858 in Manningford Bruce, Wiltshire. Zie ook mijn blog van 8 mei 2009 en ook mijn blog van 8 mei 2010.

Uit: Moonfleet


„So I gave up reading and stepped out into the street. It was a poor street at best, though once, no doubt, it had been finer. Now, there were not two hundred souls in Moonfleet, and yet the houses that held them straggled sadly over half a mile, lying at intervals along either side of the road.

Nothing was ever made new in the village; if a house wanted repair badly, it was pulled down, and so there were toothless gaps in the street, and overrun gardens with broken-down walls, and many of the houses that yet stood looked as though they could stand but little longer.

The sun had set; indeed, it was already so dusk that the lower or sea-end of the street was lost from sight. There was a little fog or smoke-wreath in the air, with an odour of burning weeds, and that first

frosty feeling of the autumn that makes us think of glowing fires and the comfort of long winter evenings to come. All was very still, but I could hear the tapping of a hammer farther down the street, and walked to see what was doing, for we had no trades in Moonfleet save that of fishing. It was Ratsey the sexton at work in a shed which opened on the street, lettering a tombstone with a mallet and graver. He had been mason before he became fisherman, and was handy with his tools; so that

if anyone wanted a headstone set up in the churchyard, he went to Ratsey to get it done. I lent over the half-door and watched him a minute, chipping away with the graver in a bad light from a lantern; then he looked up, and seeing me, said:

‘Here, John, if you have nothing to do, come in and hold the lantern for me, ’tis but a half-hour’s job to get all finished.’



J. Meade Falkner (8 mei 1858 – 22 juli 1932)

The Old Manor uit 1635 in Manningford Bruce




De Duitse dichter Johann von Besser werd geboren op 8 mei 1654 in Frauenburg (tegenwoordig Saldus in Letland). Zie en ook mijn blog van 8 mei 2009 en ook mijn blog van 8 mei 2010.


Ruhestatt der Liebe

oder: Die Schooß der Geliebten (Fragment)


Bey diesen brennenden und schwülen sommer-tagen

Ließ Chloris sich einmahl in ihren garten tragen /

Und suchte für den brand der sonnen eine klufft /

Von kühler witterung und schattenreicher lufft.


Sie setzte sich erhizt bey einem baume nieder /

Und streckte bald darauff die perlen-volle glieder

In das noch frische gras / geruhiger zu seyn /

Und schlieff auch / wie sie lag / halb von der seiten ein.


Ihr alabaster-leib war nur mit flor bekleidet /

Und weilen man den zwang nicht bey der hitze leidet /

Ward ihre blosse brust im grünen klee gespürt /

Die zur gemächlichkeit sie eben auffgeschnürt.


Der sanffte westen-wind / bereit sie abzukühlen /

Ließ seinen othem gleich auff diese wellen spielen /

Und bließ mit stillem hauch bey ihrer süssen ruh

Ihr aus der Floren hand die weichsten blumen zu.


Johann von Besser (8 mei 1654 – 10 februari 1729)




De Deense schrijver Sophus Schandorph werd geboren op 8 mei 1836 in Ringstedt. Zie ook mijn blog van 8 mei 2007 en ook mijn blog van 8 mei 2009 en ook mijn blog van 8 mei 2010.


Uit: Stina Becomes a Farmer’s Wife  (vertaald door Sally Ryan)


A little later she was overtaken by a butcher in his one-horse cart. Whoop-la! What a wild gallop, zigzag from one side of the road to the other, the wheels just escaping the ditches on either side, the springs bouncing and clanging! The butcher was alone in his cart. He was wearing a striped blue and white linen coat, soiled with brownish blood stains, and was lustily whistling “Oh, Susannah.” His straw hat was pushed back over his fiery-red, perspiring forehead. In the back of the cart, behind the seat, were two lambs, bleating indolently, as if only fulfilling an official duty. Without stopping, the butcher shouted to Stina, “Hey, lady, will you ride with me through the course of life? Hey?”

Stina did not respond to this address with so much as a glance. She said to herself, “Butchers always talk so silly.”

Wrapped in a new cloud of dust, she sneezed again, patiently wiped her nose with the back of her cotton glove, then wiped the glove on her dress in the hollow of her arm.

From a distance she heard the noise of a third vehicle, but did not turn to look. It was a long time coming, and, judging by the sound, the horses were ambling. At last it overtook her. It was a small two-horse spring-cart with only one seat. This seat was occupied by a middle-aged man who looked well fed without being exactly stout. He wore a coat of thick black broadcloth with pockets and edges bound in wide wool braid. His head was covered by a light gray cloth cap, trimmed with numerous small buttons which were faded yellow and displayed their wooden skeletons under the threadbare cloth covering. A short pipe with a big wooden head lay thrust in a corner of the seat. After spitting in the opposite direction from Stina, the man stopped his horses with a soft “Whoa!” and said slowly in the broadest Zealand dialect, “Maybe that girl would like a lift?” “Many thanks,” answered Stina.

She took hold of the dash-board, stepped on the whipple-tree so heavily that it swung way out to the side, and let herself down on the seat with a thump that made the springs resound.”



Sophus Schandorph (8 mei 1836 – 1 januari 1901)

Sophus Schandorph en vrouw, getekend door P.S. Krøyer uit 1894.




Zie voor onderstaande schrijver ook mijn blog van 8 mei 2010.


De Amerikaanse schrijver Sloan Wilson werd geboren op 8 mei 1920 in Norwalk, Connecticut. Zie ook mijn blog van 8 mei 2007 en ook mijn blog van 8 mei 2009.


Zie voor onderstaande schrijver ook mijn blog van 8 mei 2009.


De Duitse schrijver Otto Ziererwerd geboren op 8 mei 1909 in Bamberg.