In his “Complaint,” Thomas Hoccleve claims that his memory returned to him on Alle Hallowmesse. In order to mark the occasion, the International Hoccleve Society invites you to join us in “Remembering Hoccleve” on 1 November 2014. We invite you to participate by posting short medieval passages and/or images on the following topics on Facebook, Twitter, and Tumblr: healing, the benefits of being among people, complaints about money, complaints about one’s perception in the world, images that show medieval medical practice, images related to Alle Hallowmesse and the autumn saints days, etc. Alternatively, you can participate by “remembering Hoccleve” in some other way, perhaps by sending or posting a favourite passage from his work (up to 14 lines) and a short explanation of why you think it should be remembered. Please identify your posts and tweets with the hashtag #Hoccleve.
We will kick off the event with posts on our Twitter feed, Facebook account, and Tumblr page. So please follow us there and on our webpage! We hope you will join us by posting at least one item on 1 November under the hashtag #Hoccleve and liking or retweeting thematically pertinent items throughout the day under this hashtag. Please, of course, feel free to attach other hashtags (#memory, #medievalistproblems, #emotion, #MSilluminations, etc.) after #Hoccleve as they are relevant.
7 responses to “Remembering Hoccleve: The 1st Annual Hoccleve Recovery Day on Social Media”
If only social media had existed in the early C15, Thomas Hoccleve and Margery Kempe could have rapidly and perhaps repeatedly friended and unfriended each other.
That’s a lovely image, Tony. They might certainly have shared a Facebook status of ‘Eccentric, but not a heretic!’.
I’m going to post a few passages of Hoccleve that are certainly worth remembering:
Whan to the thoghtful wight is told a tale,
He heerith it as thogh he thennes were;
His hevy thoghtes him so plukke and hale
Hidir and thidir, and him greeve and dere,
That his eres availle him nat a pere;
He undirstandith nothyng what men seye,
So been his wittes fer goon hem to pleye. (Regiment, 99–105)
He seith: ‘As motthes to a clooth annoyen
And of his wolle maken it al bare,
And also as wormes a tree destroien
Thurgh hir percynge, right so sorwe and care
Byreven man his helthe and his welfare
And his dayes abregge and shorte his lyf.’
Lo, what profyt is for to be pensyf?” (Regiment, 225–31)
F.J. Furnivall on (not) editing Hoccleve, 1897:
I am sorry that these Forewords are so slight and scrappy; but they have been written at intervals, other work or laziness coming between the bits, and putting details out of my head. Dictionary work is always going on; and marking words and cutting slips out of books and papers is so pleasant and easy, that it makes one neglect work that requires effort.Then there was the starting of my Hammersmith Girls’ Sculling Club in May 1896, for working-girls in shop sewing-rooms, and their brothers and friends, with the after housing of them, and the getting-up Sunday whole-day outings, Socials, dances and classes.
Last August I took my bundle of Hoccleve papers down to the pleasant farm where we spent our holiday month,Axhill House, eight and a half miles south of Taunton. But alas, I never untied the string. There was the nice soft lawn to walk on barefooted, or lie on, all the morning; beautiful lanes and cross-country paths to stroll over in the afternoon or evening; songs and pieces to listen to at nightfall; crops and cattle to look at and chat about; visits to pay, churches to inspect, neighbours’ stories to hear; —bother Hoccleve! where could he come in, with the sunshine, flowers, apple-orchards and harvest about! But here, in his London—his, and yet how different from his,— the present scraps have been put together, mainly under the electric light of the British Museum. Let them senre till the old poet’s next editor treats him thoroughly.
[It looks like Axhill House is at TA19 9NB, UK – probably still a great area for a research-free holiday!]
The obvious post for today – Hoccleve’s Autumnal opening:
After that harvest Inned had his sheves,
and that the broune season of myhelmesse
was come, and gan the trees robbe of ther leves
that grene had bene and in lusty fresshnesse,
and them into colowre of yelownesse
hadd dyen and doune throwne undar foote,
that chaunge sank into myne herte roote.
Thank you Nick and Tony for these wonderful contributions…I have often had Furnivall’s “Bother Hoccleve, where could he come in, with the sunshine, flowers…about” line in my head these past few years…