My Letter from Hoccleve

Some readers might remember my speculating about the possibility of Hoccleve joining the company of Chaucer, Gower and Langland online. Not one to pass up an opportunity for discourse, Hoccleve has now written to me to announce his blog, viz.

To the worshypfulle Dame Stephanie Trygge dwellynge in Millebrunne (terra australis incognita)- be this lettir delyveryd in haste.

Ryght reverent Dame Stephanie, I habbe yhered that ye haue ben sechyng for me, urgyn me to blogge on the webbemundi. My penne nys that of the grete Maistyr Chaucer and my mynde is sumwhat confundyd of late (a certeyne Occleve has enioynyd my persone to som confusion) but a ryght merveillous sweven in whyche the sayd Occleve hath apperyd and entryd myn mynde (that of Hoccleve, I mene) has ychaungyd me and yhelpyd to moeven me out of myn maladye. The shorte for to seyn, he - thise Occleve - hath recommaundyd me that by weye of amendynge myn trotevale lyf at Chauncery a blogge Ichuld commence. It is but a small werke to-daye and hyt yclepyd is "Westmynstre blues" to uoyce out my troublyd lyf of wrytyng nyce documentys and rollys by daye (and redynge the grete Chaucer by nyghte). Hyt can by yfound on the webbemundi at http://hoccleve.blogspot.com but I begge youre pacience - hyt is oonly a begynnynge.

Wretyn at Westmynstre on the thridde daye of Juli. By yowre humble servaunt Thomas Hoccleve.

This professional letter writer, poet and invalid seems currently threatened by a mysterious Yorkshire alter ego — Occleve — but anyone wanting a taste of the difficulties of "Westminster blues" in the life of a clerk of the Privy Seal should check out his blog.