Reading through the newspaper accounts of disputes that occurred on the streets of Victorian London, you come across some that really make you wish that you could have been present in the court to watch the combatants go head to head with each other, often with hilarious effect.
The following story – which has the distinct feel of something written by Charles Dickens – appeared in The Taunton Courier and Western Advertiser on Wednesday the 26th of September 1838:-
BATTLE OF THE CROSSING SWEEPERS
Every promenader of Oxford-street must know the crossing that leads from Rathbone-place Soho-square, and every admirer of clean walking in wet weather, it is presumed has benefitted by the labour of the sweeper’s broom in that particular spot.
A prodigious pucker has, however, been created in the region of this locality, owing to the fact of rival candidates for the honour of sweeping the crossing having recently made their appearance.
THE MOURNING WIDOW
The old sweeper a short time ago died of the gin fever, leaving his broom to his widow, with the right in perpetuity of the emoluments, wet and dry, of the crossing.
The disconsolate dame mourned three whole days, and would not be “comforted,” except that sort of consolation drawn from a “kvarten and three outs.”
A STURDY YOUNG RASCAL
During this hiatus a sturdy young rascal, blind of one eye, hunch-backed and bandy-legged, in short a formidable opponent even to a one-armed and wooden-legged sweeper, bought a broom, and, sans ceremonie, inducted himself into the vacant office.
In confirmation of the old adage, that “a new broom sweeps clean,” the new sweeper set himself so industriously to work, extending his labours even to the shop-doors of the tradesmen on both sides, that he soon created a party in his favour; and this good feeling was further increased when it was known that he dubbed himself “principal sweeper the Queen,” from the circumstance of having swept a crossing near Kensington gardens, over which Her Majesty herself had condescended to pass.
THE WIDOW RETURNS
On Thursday night, the widow in cap, new broom, and weepers, the picture of woe Came to resume her labours on the crossing.
She found her rights invaded, her situation occupied, and her rival “touting” for coppers with as much activity as a pair of bandy legs could evince.
AN ARGUMENT ENSUES
At first she mildly remonstrated and begged him to drop his tool in some other quarter, but, as this course was of no avail, she opened the floodgates of her oratory in that sort vernacular known “Billingsgate,” and a regular row was the consequence.
The widow, finding she could gain no ground this way, resorted to the last and unfailing resource of the fair sex; she pumped out a flood of tears, and threw herself on the compassion of the bystanders.
This step brought to the scene some of the tradesmen, one portion of whom warmly espoused the cause of the widow, while the other, with no less vigour, backed her bandy-legged rival.
THE POLICE AND THE COURT
The hubbub became so great that the police were obliged to interfere, by walking off the belligerent broom wielders to the police office.
“I cannot suffer you to make a disturbance in the street this way,” said Mr. Dyer, before whom the case was brought. “I think, however, that the woman has the best right to sweep the crossing.”
THE COURT EXCHANGES
Widow (wiping her eyes) – “I only axes for my natral rights. It’s been my poor deceased dead husband’s property ever since he vos a cripple, vich vos along afor I knowd anything on him; but this here hurtful warmint vants to circumwent me out on it.”
Principal Sweeper to the Queen – “Vy don’t yer do yer duty to the public then? The inhabitants o’ Hoxford-street aint satisfied vith your vork; they says as they must have a sveeper they can put their confidence in.”
Widow – “Vos it the hact of a man, I axes you, to come for to go to take a wile advantage of a poor vidder ooman vithout a husband, vile she vos in trouble? Vy, didn’t you do all as hever you could undermine me vith the tradesmen? but you vouldn’t a been able gain yer pint if you hadn’t crawld up the grocer’s back by offering to sweep his door for nuffin.”
Principal Sweeper to the Queen – “Vy did you get too proud for yer work and bring a bad name to the crossing?
It cost me three brooms afore I could stablish its character agin.
You never handled your broom but on broken-wittle and old clothes day and jest an hour in the afternoon, ven the svell ladies and gemnmen comes out a valking.
Now I acts impartial vith the public, and sarves em all alike; so vether its “nob” or a “snob” as comes through my shop, they finds as clean a bit of valking as any in Lunnon.”
THE MAGISTRATE INTERVENES
Mr. Dyer – “You are young and strong, and better able to get a living than the woman.”
Principal Sweeper To the Queen – “I never larnt nuflin but this here business in all its branches; howsomhever, as this here hooman claims the crossing, its only but right and proper afore she legally takes possession to show her marriage stifficate, conwince the public as she vos his legal lawful vife.”
A TRIUMPH
Mr. Dyer – “I don’t think such a proceeding exactly necessary; however, mind what I say, if you don’t settle this matter quietly among yourselves, I shall be obliged to interfere to put an effectual stop to your quarrels.”
Widow – “Oh! your lordship, grant me the crossing!”
Mr. Dyer – I cannot do that, but I must say I think you have the most right to it. You ought, however, not to attend one day and neglect it the next.”
The widow went off in triumph, vowing she would stick to her sweeping as long as she had an inch of birch to her broom.