“The two friends lived together, ate together, slept together. Everything was in common with them, even Musichetta a little.” Even Joly’s head cold.
We get some excellent banter, Grantaire proving he wouldn’t know ellipsis if it was lobbed at his head point blank. This is a man who always has to get the last word in. If I may say, these three seem pretty unconcerned for members of a revolutionary group intending to take to the streets in rebellion this very day, they aren’t even in the vicinity of the planned spark point, the funeral procession. It seems to be a morning much like any other. Even after receiving the unexpected call to action from Enjolras, the three hang around for hours yet before the barricade literally forms around them.
Grantaire tries to muddle his way through an allegorical complaint about the state of society. “Brennus, who takes Rome, is an eagle; the banker, who takes the grisette, is an eagle.” This seems like a flawed comparison and I’m not sure what Grantaire believes he’s revealing. That, given the chance, people will seek ownership over things? That the strong prey on the weak? To the winner go the spoils? He might have a point but this isn’t a particularly earth shaking revelation and together his examples are pretty weak. Is he talking about the inherent nature of human greed or the cyclical nature of power and oppression? Both? I’m vaguely inclined to chalk up this entire argument to a misdirect, something that Grantaire does constantly, to the point that I can’t really tell how much of what he says should be taken at face value. Or what parts of it, rather.
“A revolution, what does that prove? That God is hard up. He makes a coup d’etat, because there is a solution of continuity between the present and the future, and because he, God, is unable to join the two ends…I suspect God is not rich.” It always does take Grantaire a bit to work up to what he really is upset about, and this is where he gets into it. If anyone but Grantaire was saying this, I’d infer a more positive read: God needs us to take action to progress into the bright future he has waiting! However, Grantaire sees this more like God throwing humanity breadcrumbs, trying to convince us to keep moving despite there being no ultimate reward. What if God was one of us? By which I mean a powerless individual struggling fruitlessly against oppressive structural power, unable to affect any real change. I think this is more the core frustration Grantaire is trying to express.
Grantaire, ostensibly, dislikes the constant disruption of his comfortable status quo by riots and calls for progress. What’s the use? This revolution will only tide us over until the next great disruption, and it’s only the lull between that’s worth the bitch of living. The universe doesn’t change, only teases us into believing it can. I’d double down on calling Grantaire a cynic rather than a genuine skeptic, like I did in 3.4.4, except he doesn’t think this is necessarily a bad thing (or at least he claims not to). As he tells it, life might be fine if only we weren’t caught up with the notion of revolution and change: “they are going to fight, all these idiots, to get their heads broken, to massacre one another…when they might go off with some creature under their arm.” If we take this at face value, Grantaire is just another privileged bourgeoisie whining about all this messy violence, but given what we’ve heard from him before (and the fact that I very much want to give him the benefit of the doubt), it’s just as, if not more likely that he’s very much afraid of what consequences the revolution might bring. Just like in 3.4.4, Grantaire can’t accept anything less than a complete success, otherwise the entire endeavor is a waste and he’s finally proven right—that humanity is beyond saving. This makes him wary of systemic change to the point that he’d prefer to avoid it altogether, better the devil you know, right?
Another point in this direction is that this line of thought doesn’t bring Grantaire any degree of comfort, despite him pretending otherwise. He isn’t happy with the way things are, he doesn’t like Louis Philippe, and he also isn’t happy being cynical about it. But, since he can’t bring himself to risk revolutionary sentiment or hope, he turns to drinking and emotional repression, “The blackness of a fearful drunkenness yawning before him, far from checking him, drew him on.”
The problem with Grantaire is that 90% of what he says and does is affectation, meant to deliberately obfuscate his genuine fears and concerns. He can hardly stand to be taken seriously so we only see the slightest glimpses into the true depth of his thoughts through the layers of misdirects he hides behind. All the allusions, the purple prose, the self deprecation, it’s all junk that needs to be sorted through to get at his real feelings. The only time anyone has managed it so far was Enjolras in 4.1.6 and we saw how long that lasted. It makes breaking down his points incredibly difficult by design which, consequently, makes him easily dismissible if you aren’t willing to parse through the bullshit.
Notably, Grantaire is one of the few characters who gets what we could charitably call a character arc. The only other characters who also receive this honor are Valjean, obviously, and…Mabeuf. I’d argue that these three are the only ones who reflect on their actions, or lack thereof, and then build on those reflections within view of the audience. I could also be persuaded to include Eponine in this list—unfortunately, what she has of an arc is warped from being shown through Marius’s oblivious eyes. I don’t necessarily know what this means for Grantaire, but it’s interesting that his arc feels more significant, or at least more thematically resonant, than what Marius, the male lead, gets.