This month in history: The Peterloo Massacre

In August 1819, an assembled group of peaceful protesters in Manchester were killed, and hundreds more were injured, in what became known as the Peterloo Massacre. On the anniversary of this watershed moment in 19th century history approaches, we review the background, events and consequences of this key political incident.

Peterloo Massacre 1819 - National Achives copyrightA peaceful protest

The Peterloo Massacre took place at St Peter’s Field, Manchester on 16 August 1819, when cavalrymen charged into a crowd who had gathered to demand reform of parliamentary representation. The meeting of peaceful campaigners had been called by the Manchester Patriotic Movement to drive the issue of reform onto the political agenda, and it was broken up in a most violent manner by the men of the Manchester and Salford Yeomanry, a local force of volunteer soldiers who had been selected to deal with what officials saw as a potentially volatile situation. Eye-witness accounts estimate that between 10 and 20 people were killed, and hundreds more were injured, in what soon became widely known as the Peterloo Massacre, in an ironic reference to the Battle of Waterloo, which had helped to end the Napoleonic Wars some four years earlier.

A crowd of thousands

Although there are varying estimates of the numbers who were attending the gathering, and indeed for the casualties – it is thought that some 100,000 people assembled in St Peter’s Field on that fateful August afternoon. Men, women and children had come from throughout the local area, as well as from towns and villages across the North West, some of them walking perhaps 30 miles to attend. Although some may have joined the march out of simple curiosity, most of the crowd who gathered in the open croft were certainly supporters of parliamentary reform, and many had, no doubt, come along specifically to see the main speaker, the radical Henry Hunt, a man known to many as ‘Orator’ Hunt, given his particular talent for fine public speaking.

The roots of disaffection

The French Revolution of 1789 had had a destabilising effect on the rest of Europe, and its impact was still being felt throughout the continent. In Britain, the country was experiencing a period of far-reaching social and political upheaval, and the government was in a heightened state of alert, concerned that the English would follow the example of the French and that rebellion would lead to revolution on this side of the Channel. Ministers knew that the comparable movement of British radicalism could look all too easily to France for its inspiration. As Foreign Secretary, Castlereagh had successfully co-ordinated European opposition to the worst excesses of Napoleon, but at home he had resolutely repressed the reform movement, and popular opinion was to hold him responsible for the Peterloo Massacre of peaceful demonstrators.

Stirrings of radicalism

It was a time of great anxiety for the British government, with stirrings of radicalism in the wake of the Napoleonic wars. The total British dead and missing from the Napoleonic wars has been put at more than 310,000. Throughout the period of 1793 to 1815, Britain had been at war almost continually, and governments had used the conflicts as an excuse to suppress all manner of free expression, including public meetings and written works. The wars had made a huge impact on all levels of British society. New financial measures – taxes – were levied to pay for the enormous cost of the war. There are estimates that perhaps one in 9 of the adult male population aged between 18 and 45 were serving in the army. Consequently, a considerable number of demobbed soldiers now found themselves unemployed, and despite having fought for their country, still disenfranchised. Meanwhile, much of the population, who had worked in newly industrialised environments to supply the troops throughout the wars, now found themselves similarly idle. Industrial unrest, prompted by changes to industrial practices which were deeply resisted, drew anti-industrial feelings into political action. Restrictions on mass meetings did not mean that discussions ceased, and a strong underground revolutionary element formed.

The movement for representation

From the end of the Napoleonic wars in 1815, increasing numbers of working people in these industrialised yet largely unrepresented areas, such as Manchester, had become involved in the wider movement for parliamentary reform. Parliament largely reflected power and property rather than representing the people. Under the influence of men such as Hunt, and the pamphleteer and reforming MP William Cobbett, they had begun to campaign for universal suffrage. It was argued that – in addition to the general issue of ‘fairness’ and the abolition of the ‘rotten boroughs’ – by extending the vote to working men (though it should be noted, not necessarily to women), a better use of public money and fairer taxes could be achieved, as well as an end to restrictions on trade which were seen by some to damage industry and be the cause of further unemployment.

The role of female reformers

Only a minority of the campaigners considered the idea of women having the vote, but women were nevertheless highly visible in the movement and actively campaigned. By 1819, women in and around the Manchester area had begun to create their own reform societies. They campaigned on behalf of their male relatives, whilst simultaneously bringing up their own children to be good citizens and committed reformers. Many of these female reformers arrived at St Peter’s Fields clothed symbolically in white, to signify their virtuous and peaceful demeanours. There was no hint that anyone intended to use force to advance their argument.

A party atmosphere ... and the band played on

Despite the seriousness of their cause, there was a party atmosphere as groups of men, women and children, many of them dressed in their ‘Sunday-best’ clothes, marched towards the centre of Manchester. Bands played music, and people danced alongside them as the procession made its way towards the city. In many towns, in the days preceding the march, the participants had even ‘practised’ assembling, mustering on the local moors to ensure that everybody would arrive in an organised and orderly manner.

However, the local officials had other ideas, viewing the crowd as having potentially violent and even revolutionary intentions. To the magistrates, the organised marching, banners and music of which the campaigners were so proud had all the features of a military regiment; while their preparatory activities on the local moors were more like those of an army drilling its willing recruits. With these thoughts in their minds, officials planned to arrest Henry Hunt, as well as the other speakers at the rally, and resolved to send in armed forces to ensure that they could safely reach the speakers through the large assembled masses. The deployment of troops in such situations was not an unusual response, particularly in the absence of an effective and widespread police force.

The troops are deployed

The gathering had been intended – both by its organisers and its participants – to be a peaceful event, with Henry Hunt telling everyone to come along ‘armed with no other weapon but that of a self-approving conscience’. So, unsurprisingly, the protesters – many of them already weary and hot, and now confined in very cramped conditions – panicked as the troops advanced and the soldiers rode in, with several of the crowd crushed as they tried to escape. Soldiers deliberately slashed at both men and women, especially those who had banners. It was later established that their sabres had been sharpened just before the meeting, suggesting that the massacre had been premeditated. Although it is thought that less than 12% of the crowd were female, a disproportionate number of them were injured, with at least 168 of the 654 casualties being women. It was later claimed that women may have been targeted by the troops in an effort to further provoke the male protesters to violence. The very first fatality was a two-year old child, William Fildes, who was being carried by his mother when she was struck by one of the Manchester cavalry. Two of the other victims were mothers of large families. Most of those who died were either sabred by the troops, or crushed and trampled as the horsemen advanced.

The names of many of the hundreds injured were printed, along with details of their wounds, so that sympathisers could contribute funds to a charity set up to support them. However, it is thought that the figures underestimate the actual numbers killed and injured, with many people afraid to admit that they had attended the meeting in case they risked further reprisals from the local officials. It is known that certain individuals lost their jobs when it was discovered that they or their relations had taken part in the protest, whilst others were refused medical treatment at the local infirmary for wounds they had sustained at the hands of the troops.

Sympathy, outrage and suppression

There was much public sympathy for the plight of the protesters and the harsh treatment they had received. In The Times newspaper an extensive and shocking account of the day, written by its correspondent, John Tyas, was published, which caused widespread outrage, and briefly succeeded in uniting the two extremes – advocates of a more limited reform joined with radical supporters of universal suffrage – in their condemnation of the excessive force that had been used. A huge petition – running to some 20 pages of signatures – was raised, firmly establishing a widely-held belief that irrespective of ones’ own personal opinions regarding parliamentary reform, the intentions of the assembled protesters had been peaceful until the arrival of the soldiers. 

The Six Acts

The government responded with an official sanction of the magistrates’ and yeomanry’s actions, and this was swiftly followed by the passing of the Six Acts, a paranoid legal crackdown on the freedoms of both the public and the press. The new legislation required that any public meeting – on church or state matters and which involved more than 50 individuals – needed to obtain the permission of a sheriff or magistrate, whilst the laws that punished authors of blasphemous or seditious material were also toughened.

Printed rebukes: Shelley and the Masque of Anarchy

Many braved the oppressive Six Acts, however, to express their anger in print. The poet Percy Bysshe Shelley, on receiving news of the massacre while in Italy, called for an immediate response. His poem ‘The Masque of Anarchy’, encouraged reformers to ‘rise like Lions after slumber, in unvanquishable number’.

Shelley’s work reflected the widespread public outrage and condemnation of the governments’ role in the massacre. He sent his poem on to the essayist and critic Leigh Hunt in London, though Leigh Hunt cautiously refrained from actually publishing it himself. Ironically however, the attempt to silence government critics only encouraged many journalists to develop inventive new ways of conveying the message of reform, while the outrage of conservative newspapers only inspired further satires and admonishments.

Printed rebukes: The Prince Regent and The London Gazette

There were many eye-witness accounts of the massacre … And, as always, The Gazette reflected the views of both royalty and the common man to the events of the day.

In The London Gazette, a proclamation from the Prince Regent (Gazette issue 17516) dated 14th Sept 1819, gave an indication of the state of the nation, by issuing a solemn warning to:

‘... all His Majesty’s liege subjects to guard against every attempt to overthrow the law … and to abstain from every measure inconsistent with the peace and good order of society …’

Some four days later, on 18th September 1819, in response to the events at Peterloo, The London Gazette reported the address and petition (Gazette issue 17517) made in Council to the Prince Regent, by the Lord Mayor, Aldermen and Commons of the City of London:

‘… with feelings of the most serious alarm and regret at the extraordinary and calamitous proceedings which have recently taken place at Manchester.

We have … learnt with grief and astonishment, that … when no act of riot or tumult had taken place … warrants were issued … the Manchester Yeomanry Cavalry suddenly rushing forward … furiously attacking by force of arms peaceable and unoffending citizens, whereby great numbers of men, women, and children … were indiscriminately and wantonly rode over and many inhumanly sabred and killed.’

Legacy of Peterloo

Peterloo continues to be a pivotal point in the history of the British suffrage movement – although this is obviously less for the initial success of the meeting itself than for the way in which it allowed the reformers to gain the moral high ground, whilst pursuing their greater cause. It became increasingly obvious that the government could only counter dissent with repression, while the chorus of angry voices and public condemnation only rose following outrages such as the one at Peterloo. Although the (First) Reform Act, of 1832 (the Representation of the People Act) was still some years away, with its standardisation of parliamentary seats and extension of the franchise, there can be little doubt that its introduction can, in part, be linked back to the brutal suppression of the protesters in St Peter’s Field on that sunny August afternoon.

Sources: The information for this article was taken from HCA Librarian and from John Tyas’ eye-witness account (The Times newspaper). Also: The Peterloo Massacre written by Ruth Mather, reproduced on the British Library website, under the Creative Commons License and In Our Time: The Peterloo Massacre (BBC Radio 4).

Image depicting the Peterloo Massacre, 1819: The National Archives, ref. HO42/199

Publication date: 26 July 2019