Summary

Hermione asks her little boy, Mamillius, to sit by her and tell her a story. Meanwhile, Leontes storms in, having just learned of Polixenes’s escape and Camillo’s role in accomplishing it. To his diseased mind, this is proof positive that his suspicions were correct, and he decides that Camillo must have been in Polixenes’s pay from the beginning. He orders Mamillius taken away from Hermione before accusing his wife of being pregnant with the king of Bohemia’s child. Hermione, astonished, denies it vigorously, but to no avail. Her husband orders her taken away to jail, along with her ladies-in-waiting. Once she has been dragged off, the lords of Sicilia plead with Leontes, declaring that he is mistaken and that his queen is innocent. But the king will have none of it and insists that he is correct. Even so, he promises to send messengers to the celebrated oracle of Apollo at Delphos and await the oracle’s verdict before proceeding against his wife.

In prison, Antigonus’s wife Paulina attempts to visit Hermione, but a guard prevents her. She is, however, allowed to speak with one of the queen’s ladies, Emilia, who reports that her mistress has given birth to a beautiful daughter. Overriding the uncertain jailer, Paulina decides to take the child from the cell and bring it to Leontes in the hopes that the sight of his newborn daughter will release the king from his madness.

Meanwhile, Mamillius has fallen ill since Hermione’s imprisonment. Leontes attributes his son’s ailment to shame over his mother’s infidelity. Meanwhile, he stews over the fact that Polixenes and Camillo remain beyond his grasp. Bursting in on the already angry king, Paulina brings the child before him. Leontes grows furious with her and castigates Antigonus for his failure to control his wife. Refusing to remain silent, Paulina argues with Leontes. She vigorously defends Hermione’s honor and then lays the baby before the furious king before she departs. After she has gone, Leontes orders Antigonus to take the child away and throw it into the fire, so that he will never have to see another man’s bastard call him father. His lords are horrified by this order, and they beg him to reconsider. He relents after a moment, but only a little. Instead of burning the infant, he tells Antigonus to carry it into the wilderness and leave it there. As the unhappy nobleman takes the child and departs, word arrives that his messengers to the oracle of Delphos have returned, bringing with them the divine verdict on the king’s charge of infidelity.

Read a translation of Act 2: Scenes 1-3

Analysis

Despite its title, The Winter’s Tale is only set during the winter months during the first three acts. The final two acts take place in the spring and summer months, which bring renewal. The resonance of the title for the opening acts is suggested by Mamillius, who promises to tell his mother a story, and then says, “a sad tale’s best for winter” (2.1.33). And, indeed, the portion of the play set in winter is already turning out to be “a sad tale.” However, given that the play will eventually conclude with a sun-drenched happy ending, Mamillius’s words are only partially prophetic. Indeed, the playwright seems to suggest that the best winter story is one that ends not with sadness but with the promise of spring. This quip about winter tales is the young prince’s only real contribution to the story, save as a victim of the coming retribution against Leontes. He is quickly cleared off the stage to make way for the dispute between his parents. 

If we had any doubt about the king’s madness before now, it is quickly swept away when he enters and declares that Camillo must have been hired by Polixenes to kill him: “Camillo was his help in this, his pander. / There is a plot against my life, my crown. / All’s true that is mistrusted” (2.1.57–59). Leontes has clearly allowed his unsubstantiated suspicions to grow to even more absurd proportions, such that his paranoia now extends to every member of his court. Hermione, meanwhile, makes a strong showing, even if the play only allows her the twin emotions of outrage and grief. She does the best with her maddened husband as anyone could, offering him a way out of his folly: “Should a villain say so,” she says of his accusation, “He were as much more villain. You, my lord, / Do but mistake” (2.1.98–101). But, of course, in his mind he does not mistake, and so her pleas are fruitless. Even later in the act, when his lords convince him not to cast the innocent baby in the fire, Leontes holds tight to an underlying cruelty. He will spare the child the flame, only to leave her to the literal wolves in the wilderness—a sentence that prompts Antigonus to lament that “a present death / Had been more merciful” (2.3.225–26).

Equally fruitless is the work of Paulina, who is the very embodiment of good sense and natural feeling. She is a staunch defender of her mistress’s honor, and she proves herself willing to put herself in harm’s way to ensure the safety of Hermione’s child. Paulina is also an extremely canny figure who seems capable of manipulating every situation to produce the outcome she desires. Yet even she fails to pierce through Leontes’s lunacy. Her plan to use the newborn child to shock him from his madness doesn’t work. In fact, Leontes only grows more furious, spouting calumny at her in a way that reveals a deep-seated misogyny. Despite himself being the king of Sicily and hence the most powerful person in the land, he appears to be unsettled by the force of female resistance to his wishes. He further projects his misogyny onto Antigonus, whom he chastises and then threatens for his failure to control his wife’s tongue. In some awful way, then, the king seems to see himself as an enforcer of patriarchal discipline—my wife was rebellious, too, he seems to say, but I didn’t let her get away with it.