The Amulet | Page 2

and all returned to their own
countries heavily freighted with other merchandise, and made way for
the ships which were continually arriving, and which, according to
contemporary chronicles, were often obliged to wait six weeks before
they succeeded in approaching the wharf.[2]
Small craft, such as hers, ascended the Scheldt, and even ventured out
to sea in order to trade with the neighboring people. Transportation into
the interior of the country was effected by means of very strong wagons,
several hundred of which daily left Antwerp. The heavy vehicles which
conveyed merchandise through Cologne to the heart of Germany were
called Hessenwagens.[3]

This extraordinary activity induced many foreigners to establish
themselves in a city where gold was so abundant, and where every one
might reasonably hope for large profits.
At the period of which we speak, Antwerp counted among its
inhabitants nearly a thousand merchants from other countries, each of
whom had his own attendants; one chronicle estimates, perhaps with
some exaggeration, the number of strangers engaged in commerce at
five thousand.[4]
Twice a day these merchants met on Change, not only for purposes of
trade and for information of the arrival of ships, but principally for
banking operations.
To convey an idea of the amount of wealth at the disposal of the houses
of Antwerp, it suffices to say that the king of Portugal obtained in one
day in this city a loan of three millions of gold crowns, and Queen
Mary of England contracted a debt of seventy millions of francs.
One merchant, called the rich Fugger, left at his death legacies
amounting to nearly six millions of gold crowns, a sum which for that
period would seem fabulous, if the fact were not established by
indisputable documents.
This wealth and the presence of so many nations vying with each other
had carried luxury to such a height that magistrates were frequently
obliged to publish edicts, in order to restrain the lavish expenditure.
This was not done on account of the foreign inhabitants of the place,
but for the advantage of many noble families and the people of the
middle classes, who were tempted by the example of others to a display
of magnificence which might have seriously injured their fortunes.
The greater part of the Italian merchants from Lucca, Genoa, Florence,
and other cities beyond the Alps, were noblemen, and from this
circumstance they were thrown into intimate intercourse with the noble
families of Antwerp, all of whom spoke fluently three or four
languages, and who particularly studied to speak with purity and
elegance the soft Italian idiom.[5]

In the Hipdorp, not far from the Church of St. James, stood an elegant
mansion, which was the favorite resort of the élité of the Italian
merchants. It was the residence of William Van de Werve, lord of
Schilde.
Although this nobleman did not himself engage in mercantile
transactions, because the aristocratic families of Brabant regarded
commerce as an occupation unsuitable to persons of high birth,[6] he
was very cordial and hospitable to all strangers whose rank entitled
them to admission to his home circle. Moreover, he was extremely
wealthy, luxurious in his manner of living, and so well versed in three
or four different languages, that he could with ease enter into an
agreeable and useful conversation in either of them.
The house of Mr. Van de Werve had still other attractions to noble
foreigners. He had a daughter of extraordinary beauty, so lovely, so
modest, notwithstanding the homage offered to her charms, that her
admirers had surnamed her la bionda maraviglia, "the wonderful
blonde."
One morning in the year 1550 the beautiful Mary Van de Werve was
seated in her father's house in a richly sculptured arm-chair. The young
girl had apparently just returned from church, as she still held in her
hand a rosary of precious stones, and her hood lay on a chair near her.
She seemed to be engrossed by some pleasing thought which filled her
heart with a sweet anticipation, for a slight smile parted her lips, and
her eyes were upraised to heaven as if imploring a favor from Almighty
God.
Against the wall behind her hung a picture from the pencil of John Van
Eyck, in which the great master had represented the Virgin in prayer,
whilst she was still ignorant of the sublime destiny that awaited her.
The artist had lavished upon this masterpiece the most ardent
inspirations of his pious and poetic genius, for the image seemed to live
and think. It charmed by the beauty of feature, the majestic calm of
expression, the sweetness of the smile, the look full of love cast from
earth to heaven.

There was a striking resemblance between the creation of the artist and
the young girl seated beneath in almost the same attitude. In truth,