"A frankelyn was in his compaignye.
Whit was his berd as is the dayesye;
Of his complexioun he was sangwyn.
[...]
An housholdere, and that a greet, was he;
Seint Julian he was in his contree.
His breed, his ale, was alweys after oon;
A bettre envyned man was nowher noon.
Withoute bake mete was nevere his hous
Of fissh and flessh, and that so plentevous,
It snewed in his hous of mete and drynke,
Of alle deyntees that men koude thynke.
After the sondry sesons of the yeer,
So chaunged he his mete and his soper.
Ful many a fat partrich hadde he in muwe,
And many a breem and many a luce in stuwe.
Wo was his cook but if his sauce were
Poynaunt and sharp, and redy al his geere.
His table dormant in his halle alway
Stood redy covered al the longe day.
At sessiouns ther was he lord and sire;
Ful ofte tyme he was knyght of the shire.
An anlaas and a gipser al of silk
Heeng at his girdel, whit as morne milk.
A shirreve hadde he been, and a contour.
Was nowher swich a worthy vavasour." (331-360)

Here, we're partway through The General Prologue to the Canterbury Tales, and we have Chaucer the pilgrim (or narrator) introducing us to the Franklin. He's a sort of middle-class, affluent landowner who has been able to hoist his rather formidable girth up the social and economic ladder. Why? That pesky shortage of workers caused by the Black Death. Eek.

Moving on Up!

The Franklin gives us an example of social mobility in medieval texts. He's a member of the gentry, which means he's not quite nobility. But he's not a lowly peasant, either.

He's a landowner and a "vavasour," which means his land comes from a higher-up member of the nobility. Quite a force to be reckoned with, the Franklin has also served as a member of parliament ("knyght of the shire"), a sheriff, and a tax collector. Are you impressed yet?

Well, take a look at this evidence that the Franklin probably has a fat bank account. For one, he has a cook on staff. And think about what he's wearing: "silk" and a belt as "whit as morne milk."

So, he's dressed with some serious swag. Also, what's up with those "partrich[es]," "breem" and "luce"? This just means that he has plenty of partridges in his cages—but not in his pear tree—and a variety of fish in his ponds. Yum.

All of these clues tell us that the Franklin is someone who has arrived, both socially and economically speaking. And the crucial observation to make here is that this movement up the socioeconomic ladder would have been much more difficult (basically impossible, actually) before the Black Death. Because that plague making labor scarce is what allowed people to get more money for their hard work.

Silver lining, we guess?

Give Until it Hurts

One big responsibility of the rich, gentry class is providing hospitality. In order to be noble, one must be generous. The Franklin certainly has these attributes down cold. His house is always ready to provide food and good company.

And just in case you didn't catch it, take a moment to enjoy the lovely image of how his house is apparently at the center of a veritable blizzard of food and mouth-watering goodies: it "snewed [...] of mete and drynke / Of alle deyntees that men koude thynke." Um, can we be invited?

Also, what's up with that "table dormant" being always ready in the Franklin's hall? Allow us to inform you, Shmoopers. In the Medieval Period, most people's tables were trestle tables, which were basically big slabs of wood supported by stands underneath. After eating, the table would usually be taken down and put away.

Not in our Franklin's house, though. His table stands ready day and night, full of food and beverages to fulfill any hungry traveler. Because he is the host of all hosts, you see.

This hospitality suits the Franklin just fine, and even his complexion shows this. Chaucer tells us he's "sangwyn," which means he's a bit red in the face. And cheerful. So, he sort of has that whole jolly Ghost of Christmas Present vibe going on.

Plus, the narrator compares the Franklin to St. Julian, who is the patron saint of hospitality. The Franklin's penchant for being charitable with his goods definitely places him among the best of the Canterbury pilgrims. Like, among the Saints, it seems.

You've Entered a 'No Irony Zone'

Keep in mind who is telling us about the Franklin here. Do you remember? That's right, it's Chaucer the narrator.

This guy is not to be confused with Chaucer the author, mind you. The sometimes-ironic narrator's voice in the Canterbury Tales is what allows Chaucer the author to present a satirical portrait of most of the Canterbury pilgrims. Including the naughty Friar.

Here, the narrator tells us: "Was nowher swich a worthy vavasour," which basically means the Franklin is a good guy. After all, we have seen his happiness, generosity, and sense of hospitality in action, so we can probably take our narrator's praise of Franklin at face value. He's one of the rare dudes Chaucer the narrator can get behind.

Cheers.