The idea of a thorough-going reformation of the state was one of the dominant themes of ancien régime politics. The collapse of the monarchy in 1789 was a direct consequence of the failure to realise change through reform. Mark Greengrass's meticulous and illuminating study of the political, religious and intellectual origins of reform will be essential reading for all early modernists and not just for specialists of sixteenth-century France, who are already accustomed to seeing the reign of Henri iii, not as one of one failure, but as a period of vitality and experimentation. In the decade before Henri's accession in 1574, civil war had undermined France's civil institutions and the self-confidence of the social elite. Greengrass adds numerous new voices to that of Montaigne and recreates the debates about how to revive the monarchy and restore virtue. Henri, perhaps the only intellectual ever to rule France, not only listened, he took part, attending lectures on moral philosophy. He quickly came to the conclusion that the war on heresy must be sacrificed in order to concentrate on reform. This was a difficult decision for a deeply pious man. It was enormously controversial too, because he found himself caught between two contradictory impulses of the Counter-Reformation. On one side he came under pressure from radical Catholics who demanded that priority be given to the eradication of Protestantism; on the other side he drew support from those moralists who argued that war was better waged on vice, controlling the passions and policing the interior self. Henri was convinced by his intellectual friends that pacification and reform went hand in hand. The great strength of this book is that it goes beyond the rhetoric to follow the trail of attempts by the king and his ministers to uphold the peace and carry out their programme in the provinces. In a society whose fabric had been shattered by violence this was an immensely difficult task. There was no question of imposing the royal will from Paris. Greengrass guides us through the complex negotiations with local warlords, towns and provincial estates as the crown's agents tried painstakingly to piece together its authority. Some of this makes for a gripping read, especially when we are present at the table-talk of deputies in the taverns and inns of Blois during the Estates-General of 1576. The reform movement reached its apogee in 1583–4 with a frenzy of legislation. But, by raising expectations of what the monarchy could and should achieve, Henri was sowing the seeds of his own demise. The gap between the rhetoric of reform and the actual results seriously damaged the king's image. There was a credibility gap between publicly declared vice and privately practised vice, and the king laid himself open to the serious accusation of hypocrisy. More could have been made of the storm over venality, so important was it to shaping the ancien régime state. The 1579 ordinance of Blois called for its suppression, but the opposite occurred and over the next few years venality spread like never before – even tavern-keeping was turned into a venal office – and became permanently entrenched in French life. Henri iii raised expectations and then did the opposite of what he had promised. He was a man you simply could not trust. The chief beneficiary of this frustration and disappointment, as Greengrass makes clear, was the Catholic League.