ALTHOUGH the word ‘future’ does not figure in the title of this paper, three words imply a span of time beyond the present which greatly concerned the kings of France in the fourteenth century: endowment, salvation, and patrimony. Kings endowed their queens and favoured servants because they envisioned a time to come, after their own deaths, when these people would find themselves vulnerable, deprived of the protection and wealth they enjoyed while the kings, their husbands and masters, lived. As to salvation, kings attempted to guarantee it for themselves through lavish gifts and pious endowments, to be effected after their earthly deaths. Such royal interest in salvation was similar to that of their subjects, who were also intent on purchasing paradise, and on protecting their spouses. But kings were different from their subjects in having at their disposal far greater wealth to guarantee their speedy entry into heaven, and to provide for their wives and servants. Thus, at least, it appeared. But, unlike their subjects, kings confronted the conundrum central to my title. The property that was ostensibly theirs was not theirs to dispense as they wished; rather, it belonged to the kingdom and the crown, and thus to the descendants who, one after another, would successively replace the reigning king on the throne. By investing extravagantly in their own salvations, kings imperilled their successors’ ability to rule. By immoderately indulging their wives and favourites, they betrayed the interests of their figurative spouse, the kingdom they governed.

As responsible rulers and public persons, kings were bound to defend the patrimony of the crown that never dies. The more they did so, the more their subjects admired and respected them. Royal prudence and parsimony, after all, meant for subjects freedom from taxation. Yet as caring husbands and masters, as Christians eager for eternal bliss, the kings had obligations and needs that ran counter to the responsibilities of their office. In wrestling with these conflicting pressures, kings had to weigh their desire for renown, widespread popularity, and their subjects’ future prayers for their salvation against natural impulses to care for their own and take measures themselves to advance their prospects for eternal bliss. In the end, natural proclivities generally triumphed over more exalted aims. Note, however, how handily lofty goals could be enlisted in the service of human cravings when one king succeeded another.