years, he often quoted proverbs. Here we meet regret. Rozée understood the sadness of ce que He knew about misplaced hopes (‘l’on croit facillement l’on désire’). par un malheur on mesure les conseils par la qualité de ceux qui le He (‘souvent donnent’). was aware that good times might not last soleil de ne and, with a (‘un mars… dure gueres’), certain fatalism, he understood that men could achieve only so much dit vain les (‘on qu’en hommes se fournissent de prudence contre le ciel et contre le d’intelligence Roy’). Through writing, Rozée objectivised his experiences, perhaps mellowed the disappointment, achieved catharsis. It is particularly in the final eighty-or-so pages that we sense the Histoire’s historian’s disillusionment. Post-Brisson, the were demoralised; they found it harder to keep the Seize fire burning. Reading the Rouen siege-narrative we sense Rozée raking through embers, searching for live coals. Parma left France to die. After a string of imported texts a short – paragraph abruptly puts an end to the work. Of course, all had not been in vain. The sacredness of Paris had been preserved against massive odds, a Protestant succession had been avoided and there were countless tales of individual courage and integrity. Ligueurs’ But heresy had not been expunged, and the rent by division, had been by Ligue, ‘betrayed’ its leader, and then maligned by royalist historians. Perhaps Rozée yearned for the short years during which, in fellowship with others, he had joined a noble cause. In the 1620s, like a man preparing for death, Rozée was coming to terms with his past and putting his affairs in order. The task was hampered or perhaps facilitated by the – – inscrutability of his God. que dieu est reculé loin de he lamented; and, much later, ‘O nous,’ dispose par un ordre qui nous est inconnu les moyens par lesquels il veut puis après ‘Dieu
years, he often quoted proverbs. Here we meet regret. Rozée understood the sadness of (‘l’on croit facillement ce que l’on désire’). He knew about misplaced hopes (‘souvent par un malheur on mesure les conseils par la qualité de ceux qui le donnent’). He was aware that good times might not last (‘un soleil de mars… ne dure gueres’), and, with a certain fatalism, he understood that men could achieve only so much (‘on dit qu’en vain les hommes se fournissent de prudence contre le ciel et d’intelligence contre le Roy’). Through writing, Rozée objectivised his experiences, perhaps mellowed the disappointment, achieved catharsis. It is particularly in the Histoire’s final eighty-or-so pages that we sense the historian’s disillusionment. Post-Brisson, the Seize were demoralised; they found it harder to keep the fire burning. Reading the Rouen siege-narrative we sense Rozée raking through embers, searching for live coals. Parma left France – to die. After a string of imported texts a short paragraph abruptly puts an end to the work. Of course, all had not been in vain. The sacredness of Paris had been preserved against massive odds, a Protestant succession had been avoided and there were countless tales of individual Ligueurs’ courage and integrity. But heresy had not been expunged, and the Ligue, rent by division, had been ‘betrayed’ by its leader, and then maligned by royalist historians. Perhaps Rozée yearned for the short years during which, in fellowship with others, he had joined a noble cause. In the 1620s, like a man preparing for death, Rozée was coming to terms with his past and putting his affairs in order. The task was hampered – or perhaps facilitated – by the inscrutability of his God. ‘O que dieu est reculé loin de nous,’ he lamented; and, much later, ‘Dieu dispose par un ordre qui nous est inconnu les moyens par lesquels il veut puis après