Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting POV Enjolras (Les Misérables) Enjolras is Bad at Feelings (Les Misérables) Grantaire is Bad at Feelings (Les Misérables) Everyone is Bad at Feelings Mutual Pining Friends with Benefits they are both so silly i want to bash their heads together with a rock
''Promise me this isn't the end?' Grantaire whispers into the darkness of Enjolras' bedroom. Enjolras can hardly see him, but doesn't have to to know that Grantaire's eyes are filled with tears. Enjolras is going away, pursuing his dream of moving to Paris. Neither of them know at this point that he will not return for six years.
'I promise,' Enjolras whispers back, dragging his fingers through Grantaire's scalp, mussing up his already dishevelled dark curls. Grantaire burrows in closer, wrapping his arms somehow even tighter around Enjolras' lithe frame, as though he can make him stay through sheer force and willpower.
They were never really together, so really, the end was always in sight. They were always toeing the line of the end, blurring the boundaries between something tangible and something incorporeal. Those lazy, heady days of sex always had an expiry date.'
~
Enjolras returns to England on a whim after being apart from Grantaire for six years.
currently pulling an all-nighter writing my first ever piece of fanfiction and also my first ever piece of creative writing (if you discount the stories i wrote when i was ten). cooking straight gas rn. most mournful heart-wrenching shit you'll ever read. watch this fucking space
in my dissertation, which you can read in its entirety here, i argued that the allusion between enjolras and grantaire and orestes and pylades respectively could be extended to encapsulate the myth of the house of atreus when analysed in the wider context of the french revolution. in honour of the recent release of christopher nolan's the odyssey, i thought i would share the relevant section of my dissertation here for your reading pleasure. enjoy :)
The chapter of Les Misérables which lends its name to the title of this dissertation, ‘Orestes Fasting and Pylades Drunk,’ is also the chapter in which Enjolras and Grantaire meet their fates. Hugo is not subtle in this allusion, the reference being made here of course to Orestes, son of Agammemnon, and his companion, Pylades. When learning of Orestes’ fated death, twice, in both of Euripides’ plays Orestes and Iphigenia Among the Taurians, Pylades both times offers to die by his side, proudly stating in the latter, “it would be shameful for me to go on living while you do not,” and similarly asking him in the former, “hold on, hold on, I have to protest. Do you think I would choose to live without you?” Pylades has not committed the crime Orestes has, that of matricide, and yet is willing to die alongside him in the name of friendship. Grantaire, then, this drunk Pylades, mirrors his actions and professes his own willingness to die with Enjolras, his sober Orestes:
Relegated, as he was, to one corner, and sheltered behind the billiard table, the soldiers whose eyes were fixed on Enjolras, had not even noticed Grantaire, and the sergeant was preparing to repeat his order, “Take aim!” when all at once, they heard a strong voice shout beside them, “Long live the Republic! I’m one of them.”
Grantaire had risen. The immense gleam of the whole combat that he had missed, and in which he had had no part, appeared in the brilliant glance of the transfigured drunken man.
The National Guard have not noticed Grantaire, his friends have forgotten about him, and so perhaps has the reader, and yet here he is about to die for the very principles of Enjolras’ he initially scorned. Like Pylades, he is unwilling to live in a world in which there is no Enjolras, in which there is no idealism, no hope, for after all, ‘Grantaire, in whom writhed doubt, loved to watch faith soar in Enjolras. He had need of Enjolras.’ Despite his ridicule of Enjolras and his eternal optimism, in seeing him accept his fate so readily, Grantaire realises both the extent to which Enjolras is willing to go because of his beliefs, and the extent to which he himself is willing to follow him, and thus decides to make the ultimate sacrifice, repeating ‘“Long live the Republic!” [crossing] the room with a firm stride and [placing] himself in front of the guns beside Enjolras.’ Grayling has also written of the pair:
Enjolras and Grantaire in Hugo’s Les Misérables… and many others, are likened to the mythical princes Orestes and Pylades, who figure in every list of pairs of heroic friends… Devotion, absolute loyalty, a passionate readiness to die in the other’s place in order to save him: this combination is the key trope in these passionate friendships, and even if the occurrence of the trope in later literature was strictly homosocial, appeal to the example of Orestes and Pylades is always intended to evoke the bond’s unyielding strength.
Like Pylades, and Nisus, another of the classical figures which Hugo alludes to earlier in the novel, Grantaire’s final act, borne from his desire, is his last act of devotion to Enjolras and his principles, which, as can be seen in his unlikely declaration of “I’m one of them,” have finally become Grantaire’s principles also.
The allusion here does not just refer to solely that of Orestes and Pylades, however, but rather it can extend to encapsulate the broader myth of the House of Atreus as a whole when analysed in the wider context of the French Revolution. If Enjolras is Orestes, a ‘priest of the Republic,’ then surely the National Guard, and by extension, the monarchy and government of France in 1832, represent Clytemnestra, Orestes’ mother whom he murders in the name of avenging his father, Agammemnon. But just how far back in Greek mythology can this allusion be traced? The story of Orestes and the events which lead to him committing the crime of matricide arguably begin with the start of the Trojan War, and Agammemnon’s decision to sacrifice his eldest daughter, Iphigenia, in order to appease the goddess Artemis and be granted strong winds for sailing to Troy in return, deceiving both his daughter and her mother through the guise of a wedding as opposed to a sacrificial ritual. Despite any personal beliefs one might harbour, it can be said that Agammemnon carries out this sacrifice in the name of the greater good, murdering his own kin to achieve the aims of the army, and thus, those original ‘priests of the Republic,’ the men of ’93, mirror his actions. The devastating and numerous losses of the Terror, losses of not just the bourgeoisie and monarchy, but men turning upon men as a result of distrust, those who went to the guillotine themselves after executing so many others, must be represented by Iphigenia, then, the picture of innocence, a virgin offering to the virgin goddess.
This selfish sacrifice on the part of Agammemnon understandably enrages Clytemnestra, Iphigenia’s mother, who spends the following ten years plotting the murder of her own husband almost as soon as he returns from war, avenging her daughter and thus continuing the curse of the House of Atreus, or the bloodshed of the Republic, which is still existent despite the end to it. Even in the wake of the empire and the subsequent restoration, Clytmnestra’s role in this allegory, the actions of the men of ’93, or Agammemnon, must still be atoned for, however many years it has been since said action. Elektra, though, adores her father, and it is thus no surprise that she detests her mother for murdering him. If Clytemnestra is the murderer of the Republic, the A B C are her opposition, her own children, the avengers of the Jacobins. The A B C support their leader, Enjolras, and share his aims to restore the Republic, not dissimilar to Elektra’s alliance with and support of her brother, Orestes. Pylades, then, has no real motivation or desire to murder Clytemnestra, let alone die for the deed, but like Grantaire, offers to regardless for he exists to be tied to his friend, the two ‘only exist on condition that they are backed up with another man; their name is a sequel, and is only written preceded by the conjunction and; and their existence is not their own; it is the other side of an existence that is not theirs.’ Grantaire’s final plea to Enjolras mirrors Pylades’ aforementioned statements so strongly:
“Finish both of us at one blow,” said he.
And turning gently to Enjolras, he said to him, “Do you permit it?”
Enjolras pressed his hand with a smile.
This smile was not ended when the report resounded.
Enjolras, pierced by eight bullets, remained leaning against the wall, as though the balls had nailed him there. Only, his head was bowed.
Grantaire fell at his feet, as though struck by a thunderbolt.
Pylades tells Orestes “I would never desert you – may the ground not accept my blood when I die, nor the bright air my soul, if I am lying… And what would I have to say for myself in later life if I stopped being your friend the minute you got into trouble?”, and Grantaire asks Enjolras if he is content for them to replicate this tableau, to be immortalised in history as two men whose death was reminiscent of such a bonded pair, when in life they were anything but. He lies prostrate at Enjolras’ feet, replicating the ancient Greek form of prayer known as supplication, his final act of devotion, the epitome of desire. Enjolras, in his final moments, allows this request. The staging of this scene is so important within the novel, and yet unfortunately, it has been somewhat lost with modern restagings, the physical direction of the scene being altered in various adaptations, perhaps a consequence of the lack of writings on the importance of these two characters in the academic field. The June Rebellion is the A B C’s defence of Corinth: following its ransacking and destruction by the Romans in 146 BCE, Greece is finally recognised as an independent state almost two thousand years later, in July 1832, only a month after the Parisian June Rebellion. Following the ransacking and destruction of the barricade at the Corinthe, the monarchy of France is finally permanently overthrown, sixteen years later, in the European revolutions of 1848.
since september i've been training to become a teacher and it's been HEAVY but so fun and i qualify at some point this month!
because of the workload i've had almost zero time for my interests so this blog has been put on the back burner however i fully intend on posting and interacting more over the summer
i finish for summer this friday and i can already feel myself itching to dive back into my special interests (i just reread in memoriam)
anyway sorry for going awol i am not dead just busy!
so today i found the cutest antique bookshop in london and asked if they had any copies of les mis... and they had this stunning edition (for the low low price of £7.5k!) however, the lovely bookseller let me look at it and take some photos :)
Orestes Fasting and Pylades Drunk: Classical Allusion and Desire in Victor Hugo's Les Misérables
or, the long awaited les mis dissertation! i'm so incredibly proud of this work, and i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i (mostly) enjoyed writing it :)
author's note: please be aware that since submitting this, i have noticed a few glaring grammar mistakes, much to my shame. if you notice them, no you didn't <3
Orestes Fasting and Pylades Drunk: Classical Allusion and Desire in Victor Hugo's Les Misérables