Two years had passed like a dream in the pleasant valley which, in far
later ages, the Romans called Vallis Aurea, and which we call Vallauris.
Here, at a distance of some thirty miles from the cave and the tribe,
dwelt in fancied concealment Why-Why and Verva. The clear stream was
warbling at their feet, in the bright blue weather of spring; the scent
of the may blossoms was poured abroad, and, lying in the hollow of Why-
Why's shield, a pretty little baby with Why-Why's dark eyes and Verva's
golden locks was crowing to his mother. Why-Why sat beside her, and was
busily making the first European pipkin with the clay which he had found
near Vallauris. All was peace.
* * * * *
There was a low whizzing sound, something seemed to rush past Why-Why,
and with a scream Verva fell on her face. A spear had pierced her
breast. With a yell like that of a wounded lion, Why-Why threw himself
on the bleeding body of his bride. For many moments he heard no sound
but her long, loud and unconscious breathing. He did not mark the yells
of his tribesmen, nor feel the spears that rained down on himself, nor
see the hideous face of the chief medicine-man peering at his own. Verva
ceased to breathe. There was a convulsion, and her limbs were still.
Then Why-Why rose. In his right hand was his famous club, "the watcher
of the fords;" in his left his shield. These had never lain far from his
hand since he fled with Verva.
He knew that the end had come, as he had so often dreamt of it; he knew
that he was trapped and taken by his offended tribesmen. His first blow
shattered the head of the chief medicine-man. Then he flung himself, all
bleeding from the spears, among the press of savages who started from
every lentisk bush and tuft of tall flowering heath. They gave back when
four of their chief braves had fallen, and Why-Why lacked strength and
will to pursue them. He turned and drew Verva's body beneath the rocky
wall, and then he faced his enemies. He threw down shield and club and
raised his hands. A light seemed to shine about his face, and his first
word had a strange tone that caught the ear and chilled the heart of all
who heard him. "Listen," he said, "for these are the last words of Why-
Why. He came like the water, and like the wind he goes, he knew not
whence, and he knows not whither. He does not curse you, for you are
that which you are. But the day will come" (and here Why-Why's voice
grew louder and his eyes burned), "the day will come when you will no
longer be the slave of things like that dead dog," and here he pointed to
the shapeless face of the slain medicine-man. "The day will come, when a
man shall speak unto his sister in loving kindness, and none shall do him
wrong. The day will come when a woman shall unpunished see the face and
name the name of her husband. As the summers go by you will not bow down
to the hyaenas, and the bears, and worship the adder and the viper. You
will not cut and bruise the bodies of your young men, or cruelly strike
and seize away women in the darkness. Yes, and the time will be when a
man may love a woman of the same family name as himself"--but here the
outraged religion of the tribesmen could endure no longer to listen to
these wild and blasphemous words. A shower of spears flew out, and Why-
Why fell across the body of Verva. His own was "like a marsh full of
reeds," said the poet of the tribe, in a song which described these
events, "so thick the spears stood in it."
* * * * *
When he was dead, the tribe knew what they had lost in Why-Why. They
bore his body, with that of Verva, to the cave; there they laid the
lovers--Why-Why crowned with a crown of sea-shells, and with a piece of a
rare magical substance (iron) at his side. {208} Then the tribesmen
withdrew from that now holy ground, and built them houses, and forswore
the follies of the medicine-men, as Why-Why had prophesied. Many
thousands of years later the cave was opened when the railway to Genoa
was constructed, and the bones of Why-Why, with the crown, and the
fragment of iron, were found where they had been laid by his repentant
kinsmen. He had bravely asserted the rights of the individual conscience
against the dictates of Society; he had lived, and loved, and died, not
in vain. Last April I plucked a rose beside his cave, and laid it with
another that had blossomed at the door of the last house which covered
the homeless head of SHELLEY.
The prophecies of Why-Why have been partially fulfilled. Brothers, if
they happen to be on speaking terms, may certainly speak to their
sisters, though we are still, alas, forbidden to marry the sisters of our
deceased wives. Wives _may_ see their husbands, though in Society, they
rarely avail themselves of the privilege. Young ladies are still
forbidden to call young men at large by their Christian names; but this
tribal law, and survival of the classificatory system, is rapidly losing
its force. Burials in the savage manner to which Why-Why objected, will
soon, doubtless, be permitted to conscientious Nonconformists in the
graveyards of the Church of England. The teeth of boys are still knocked
out at public and private schools, but the ceremony is neither formal nor
universal. Our advance in liberty is due to an army of forgotten Radical
martyrs of whom we know less than we do of Mr. Bradlaugh.