A Family Jar

One night, while passing through the street, A stranger paused to hear The tumult from a cottage nigh, That stunned the listening ear. And as he stood without the door The sound of war arose, As when Boroo the Irish king Engaged his stubborn foes.

So drawing nigh the window-sill He studied matters fair, And lo, the husband and the wife Engaged in battle there: The former with his doubled fists The battle sought to win; While to his head the wife applied The heavy rolling-pin.

And as the stranger stood without He thus communed with care,— For he was shrewd and thought it best To weigh the danger there,— “This is some family affair: Some question I opine That I should not discuss with them, Nor make the quarrel mine; For I am newly risen up From off the bed of pain, And they perchance will turn on me, And send me there again.”

So turning from the window-sill He journeyed on his way, And went not in, but left the pair Engaged in doubtful fray; And when he was a great way off The stranger paused once more, And lo! the noise of battle fell Still louder than before.

Then he remarked, “This is indeed A battle fierce and great; I now repent me that I went Not in, to remonstrate.” Then taking to his road again, He moved, repenting still, And turned not back to enter in, But slowly climbed the hill.

Not many minutes later on, Behold, another man Was passing by, and heard the war That through the building ran; And lo! the tumult that arose Was like the clamor high When Michael’s host and Satan’s horde Did mingle in the sky.

And while he paused, he heard the stroke The active husband sped; And heard the fall of rolling-pin Upon the husband’s head. And he communed thus with himself,— For he loved ways of peace, Delighting not in heavy strokes, But thinking war should cease:

Said he, “A family jar, no doubt, Now falls upon mine ear; And I should promptly enter in The house, to interfere; Or soon, perchance, a murder will Be done beneath this roof; And I appear like one to blame, Because I stood aloof, Or passed along upon my way And took no noble stand, Nor raised my voice the war to stay, Nor caught a lifted hand.”

So then the traveler left the street And bravely entered in, Through porch and hall, and gained the room Where rose the fearful din; And on the husband laying hold, He cried, “Why do ye go Beyond the brute that roots the sod In this contention low, And neither spare the sex, nor kin, Which you are bound to do? Now use no more your ready hand Or you the act may rue!”

Then said the husband, turning round, “Why, is she not mine own? My flesh of flesh, as we are told, And also bone of bone? And who are you that here comes in At me to rail and scout, When I, by neither word nor line, Sent invitation out? Do I not answer for the rent? And all the taxes pay? And say to whom I will, ‘Come in,’ Or, ‘Stand without,’ I pray?”

Then also did that warring wife Now rest her rolling-pin, And thus addressed the stranger too, “Aye! wherefore came ye in? Come, let us beat him soundly here, And throw him down the stairs, And teach him not to interfere With other folks’ affairs.”

So hands they laid upon the wretch While edging for the door, And beat him freely out of shape, And dragged him round the floor. The wife would hold him down awhile The husband’s blows to bide; And then the husband held him till The wife her weapon plied.

They rent the garments from his back, And from his scalp the hair; And from his face in handfuls plucked The whiskers long and fair; And there, contrary to the laws, And to his wish to boot, He swallowed teeth that in his jaws In youth had taken root.

At last, uniting at the task, They hauled him to the door And sent him howling home in pain; A man both lame and sore.

Who showed the greatest wisdom here,— The one who heard the fray And went not in, but later stood Repenting in the way? Or he, who turning from his path Went in to stay the rout, And after wished, with all his heart, That he had stayed without?

The observations of a life Prove, eight times out of nine, They best can meddle with a strife Who bear official sign.

But notwithstanding all the facts This lesson has laid bare; Of reaping good for noble acts We never should despair. Not here below reward we’ll know, But virtue still prevails; And valor, love, and rightful deeds, Will count upon the scales.