The March to Peterloo: Politics and Festivity in Late Georgian England
In March 1820 Henry Hunt, Samuel Bamford and others were on trial at York assizes for conspiracy and sedition in connection with the Manchester reform meeting of Monday 16 August 1819 — the meeting which had ended in the 'Peterloo massacre'. Bamford defended himself, and his line of defence at times puzzled the judge. Bamford's star witness was James Dyson, a neighbour from Middleton. Dyson's description of the march as a kind of festive village outing seemed impossible to reconcile with the picture of a threatening military-style descent on Manchester which the prosecution had presented.
The wives of several of the party accompanied their husbands. There were several hundred of women with our party and the Rochdale party. I saw many of them at Manchester . . . the women who accompanied us were relatives of the men who marched in the procession. It is customary at our wakes and rush-carts in Lancashire to have banners and music; the rush-carts are held on a Saturday, and on the following Monday the men walk in procession, but they do not keep the step.
Justice Bayley asked for an explanation of the term 'rush cart'.
Mr Bamford said, that it is an annual custom to have a cart in which rushes are neatly placed; this cart is drawn by young men decorated with ribbons, and preceded by young women, music, etc.1
Earlier, William Morris, a local weaver, had testified for the prosecution how he had seen the march set off from the weaving village of Middleton 'in regular form', in sections four abreast commanded by military veterans. Under cross-examination from Bamford, Morris was brought to admit to the presence of [End Page 109] 'a good deal of women and children', and to a certain resemblance with other events.
I have seen many processions with music at Middleton, of the Orangemen and Odd Fellows; they had flags and inscriptions. I was at Middleton on the Proclamation of his Majesty, and I saw then a procession of the Odd Fellows bearing a flag.
Justice Bayley. I am unwilling to interrupt you; how does this bear upon the point?
Mr Bamford. I mean to shew, that it is a common practice in this part of the country to have these sort of processions.2
Bamford's co-defendant, Joseph Healey, made a similar point.
I would wish to inform you, that in Lancashire, where military habits are almost interwoven with the people, in consequence of the last war, the Sunday Schools and numerous societies, such as Odd Fellows, Foresters, Orangemen, Masons, and common Benefit Societies, generally walk in procession with music and flags.3
This defence in fact met the prosecution charges head-on. At the core of the Crown's case was the claim that the defendants had procured sixty thousand people
unlawfully maliciously and seditiously to meet . . . in a formidable and menacing manner and in military procession and array with Clubs, Sticks and other offensive Weapons and instruments and with diverse Seditious and inflammatory inscriptions and devices to the great alarm and terror of the peacably disposed subjects of . . . the King.4
The emphasis, added by the prosecution, shows the importance attached by the Crown to the disposition and demeanour of the marchers. The march was portrayed as a military operation, its very orderliness sinister and contrived. Against this, the defence offered innocent ceremonial comparisons: with friendly society and Orange Order parades, and with the annual wakes-time or rushbearing processions.5 Bamford later explained the orderliness of the march as the natural cohesion of a community in festive mode: 'We went in the greatest hilarity and good humour, [End Page 110] preceded by a band of music playing several loyal and national airs; and . . . our fathers and mothers, sweethearts and children were with us. And this was the dreadful military array'.6 The prosecution and defence versions of the...
