Scene 3 provides an important bit of information: it indicates Pyrrhus' thorough indifference to Hermione. Conversely, his impatient dismissal of Phoenix at Andromache's appearance shows the extent of his love for her. The play's development depends largely upon Pyrrhus' feeling for the two women.
The intimations of greatness that Pyrrhus gave in his contemptuous rejection of Orestes' demands are exposed as a sham in his behavior toward Andromache in Scene 4. His protection of her son was not prompted by compassion but by self-interest. It is a weapon to put pressure on Andromache. Astyanax is, after all, negotiable. His safety must be paid for by Andromache's love. Pyrrhus turns out to be not a fearless knight but a crude blackmailer. Brutal soldier that he is, he minces no words, either in his concessions or in his threats.
His crudity only aggravates a conflict that is basically irreconcilable. Andromache cannot possibly love Pyrrhus. He is the major cause of her bitter suffering. In addition, she loves Hector with a constancy that goes beyond the grave. Here, incidentally, Racine vividly demonstrates the effectiveness of drawing upon the literature of the past. The mere mention of Hector's name illuminates for the informed spectator the depth of Andromache's love. That a woman should wish to remain loyal to her dead husband at any cost might seem, in the case of the ordinary marriage, unreasonable, but when that husband is Hector, who led his people against a mighty war machine for ten years and died heroically in defense of his city, her resolve is understandable.
In an interesting essay, the critic Lucien Goldman suggests a thought which further underlines the hopelessness of the situation. He postulates the idea--which the play certainly supports--that Pyrrhus, Hermione, and Orestes lack "awareness." By this he means that they have no ethical sensibilities; they never ask themselves whether an action is right or wrong. Their love is an imperious form of self-indulgence. Consequently, Pyrrhus cannot respect Andromache's legitimate abhorrence of his war exploits or her uncompromising faithfulness to her husband, since both are reactions he would never have himself.
Andromache, by contrast, is utterly moral. She believes in the absolute value of her principles. She is willing to pay with her life and, if she must, with the life of her son, for her convictions. Therefore, if we are to accept Anouilh's concept of tragedy as the absence of hope ("and then tragedy is relaxing because we know there is no more hope, none of that filthy hope. We are trapped like rats, with the heavens on our back"), the tragic impact of Andromache is overwhelming. At the same time, the characters do not yield to despair, and, in spite of their inexorable doom, they continue to struggle, and thus the play retains its suspense and its dynamic tension.
Andromache's method of struggle arouses our interest and our admiration. She defends her principles with intelligence and skillfully plays on Pyrrhus' vanity to protect herself and her son. She at least is neither self-indulgent nor blinded by passion, and she chooses her weapons carefully to achieve her ends.
A minor defect in the scene which must be pointed out is Pyrrhus' superficially gallant language, a concession to a literary style of the time known as "preciosity." It consists of elegant turns of speech, avoiding common and straightforward expressions, and in a mannered way, of expressing love by much talk of "eyes" and "flame," making incongruous comparisons between total war and courtly passions in such phrases as "consumed by more fires than I have lit." Racine, fortunately, is not often guilty of these fashionable lapses in taste. In general, his language is simple and convincing.
