Miranda sat next to the open window, with baby Isabella in her lap. She was grateful that her daughter had finally fallen asleep and given her a few moments of peace. Warm sunshine bathed the room in light, and a light breeze fluttered the curtains. In the distance, bells were tolling, marking the passage of another hour on this summer afternoon. She gazed out over the city below, enjoying the tranquility of the moment. A newborn awarded her a respite from the endless monotony of social duties at the Neapolitan court. Miranda was glad of it – frankly, she found the whole business exhausting. Receiving foreign dignitaries, hosting and attending countless dinners and balls… It didn’t seem like it should be that difficult, but it was all so complicated. There were so many rules! Who walked with whom into the room, and in what order, and where they all sat at the table, and how they all addressed one another, and the list went on and on. She sighed. Just the thought of it all made her head swim.
When she had left the island ten years ago, she hadn’t known what to expect in Naples. Oh, she’d read about great cities in her father’s books, and heard about his beloved Milan, but she really had no idea what she was in for. Her head was filled with wild dreams about a brave new world, full of wonderful men and women who built grand civilizations, the kind she’d read about. She was ready for all fine palaces and their lords and ladies. What she hadn’t been prepared for were the poor old women and ragged children, begging at the side of the street. She was used to seeing creatures live in misery from Caliban back on the island – she shuddered at the thought of him – but these women and children were different. They hadn’t done anything to deserve that kind of life!
Life in the palace wasn’t as wonderful as she’d imagined either. The men and women of the court were a demanding crowd. They expected her to be an accomplished young lady, to know how to navigate through the elaborate upper-class social maze. The second she arrived in Naples, legions of tutors had filled her schedule: dancing, drawing, musical instruments, the things her father couldn’t teach her on the island. Claribel had been her savior when it came to being a hostess. She and her husband had come up from Tunis for Miranda and Ferdinand’s wedding, and she had taught Miranda how to skillfully play the game of the successful dinner party.
Even so, Miranda found it difficult to keep up with all that was expected of her. Their public image and their reputation amongst the nobility always had to be perfect. Sometimes the pressure was overwhelming.
There was a knock on the door, and Ferdinand entered the room. Miranda smiled at him.
“Aren’t you supposed to be hearing petitioners this afternoon?”
“I know, I know, but I couldn’t stand an entire afternoon without seeing you two.” He stroked the baby’s head. “Hello, little one.”
A voice floated through the open door from the hallway. “Your highness, the next petitioner is waiting for your hearing…”
Ferdinand gave a frustrated sigh. “I guess I’d better go. But I’ll be back as soon as I can…”
“Alright.” Miranda watched her husband as he reluctantly left the room. Really, she shouldn’t be so frustrated by her life at the court. She had it better than many of her peers – Ferdinand was a faithful husband, he wasn’t twenty years older than her, and they had real love in their marriage. So what if her wedding had been a part of her father’s plan all along? The same was true for most other young women at the court.
And most other young women hadn’t had such an extraordinary childhood. Even if she didn’t have that kind of freedom now, at least she’d gotten a taste of it. She’d gotten to spend her early years wandering over the island as she pleased, exploring nature out in the open. She had grown up with the sun on her face and the wind in her hair, the sand between her toes. She’d never had a governess to cluck over her and tell her what not to do, and she’d never been bored by her father’s lessons.
Miranda knew she should be grateful that she’d gotten to have that experience at all. But still, there was a part of her that couldn’t help longing to have that kind of life again, to escape from the constraining social hierarchy with all its rituals and trappings.
Just for a moment, she closed her eyes and traveled back to her childhood. She could see it all before her – the jagged majestic cliffs, the smooth golden beaches, and the endless, sparkling sapphire sea…
Analysis:
I’d always wondered about what happened to Miranda once she got to Naples. She had grown up on a remote island, with only her father and a deformed monster for company, and now she was about to be thrust into the complicated social sphere of the Neapolitan nobility. It couldn’t have been an easy transition. My inspiration for this project mostly came from Miranda’s lines in Act 5 Scene 1 of The Tempest: “How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world / That has such people in’t.” I thought about how that impression might change when Miranda was exposed to society more fully. I realized that compared to most young girls of her social status, Miranda had been blessed with remarkable freedom during her childhood. However, she was also left very unprepared for what lay ahead as the wife of a Neapolitan prince. Through this piece, I tried to capture how I think Miranda would have felt about the good and bad aspects of her new life – her marriage with Ferdinand and her memories of her childhood, but also the constraints imposed by upper-class society. In this epilogue, Miranda somewhat romanticizes her past – she doesn’t dwell much on Caliban and the negative aspects of the island. Miranda has gained a great deal of interiority in this monologue, since the reader is able to see her inner thoughts and reflections. However, she may have lost a few of the detailed nuances of her character, since it was impossible to fit every detail of what she might miss about the island into this relatively short piece.