The reform agitation began in Manchester in 1792, and its history is instructive and too little known by the present generation. The town, which was heartily Republican in the Civil Wars, was as heartily Jacobite in the earlier part of the eighteenth century, and in its closing years was dominated by the sworn friends of intolerance and privilege. The vainly proposed repeal in 1789 of the Corporation and Test Acts, by which the Nonconformists were excluded from all municipal offices, led to the formation in Manchester of a “Church and King Club,” whose members showed their loyalty by deep potations and their piety by wearing buttons which bore a representation of the “Old Church.” An era of bitter party feeling now set in. Those who were Dissenters, those who were suspected of thinking that Manchester and other important manufacturing towns should be represented in Parliament, those who ventured to regard the sale of pocket-boroughs as a scandal, those who hinted that any improvement was possible in the constitution of a Parliament that was notoriously non-representative and that included many members who owed their position to improper and corrupt influences, were marked out for social ostracism and persecution. The Liberals of that day banded themselves together and formed the Manchester Constitutional Society, which in May, 1792, set forth as one of its objects that “members of the House of Commons should owe their seats to the good opinion and free suffrage of the people at large, and not to the prostituted votes of venal and corrupt boroughs.” The Government immediately issued a proclamation against “wicked and seditious writings,” and called upon the magistrates to take rigorous action. The King’s birthday was celebrated by illuminations, and the partisans of the “glorious Constitution,” which denied them the rights of citizenship, tore up a couple of the trees growing in St. Ann’s Square, and tried to batter down the gates of the Unitarian chapels in Cross Street and Mosley Street. The publicans were warned that their licences would be forfeited if they allowed any gatherings of the reformers upon their premises. No less than 186 of them signed an agreement to that effect, and in some of the taverns was a conspicuous announcement, “No Jacobins admitted here.” The war with France was hailed with delight by the adherents to the old order, and was deeply deprecated by the reformers. A man of great talent, Thomas Cooper, issued an address on the evils of war, and this, with other dissuasives, appeared in the Manchester Herald, a newspaper which the reformers had started. Encouraged by the authorities of the town, a drunken mob attacked the printing office and sacked it. The Rev. J. Griffith declared that he would not act against the rioters if called upon to do so, and a special constable offered the mob a guinea for “every Jacobin’s house that they pulled down.” A friend of the printer’s applied to the constable for help, and was answered by a threat of being kicked out of the place. The leader of the reformers was Mr. Thomas Walker, and his house also was selected for attack. He and his friends defended the place with firearms. The conduct of the rioters was defended by Wyndham in the House of Commons, and a prosecution was instituted, not against the law-breakers, but against Mr. Walker. He had firearms in his possession, and therefore he had “obtained arms to wage war against the King.” The case came on at the Lancaster Spring Assizes, but the principal witness proved himself to be a shuffling perjurer, and Law, afterwards Lord Ellenborough, saw the matter to be so hopeless that he threw up the case. Thomas Cooper left the town for America, where he obtained high distinction as a chemist, jurist, and political economist. The reformers were helpless and almost hopeless. The war fever had seized the nation; the right of public meeting and the freedom of the press were the subject of constant attack. The law against seditious assemblies was used as a means of prohibiting any public expression of disapprobation of the state of the Constitution or the acts of the Government. It was denounced by Charles James Fox, and a very whimsical protest was made against it in Manchester, which is thus described in a newspaper of the time:—“On Monday evening (28th December, 1796), the members of the Manchester Thinking Club commenced their first mental operation by beginning to think, or in other words, submitting themselves like good subjects to a constitutional dumbness. The number of thinkers assembled was not less than 300, and many of the thoughtful actually came from Liverpool, Stockport, and other remote places to witness this novel spectacle. The members were all muzzled, and such an imposing silence prevailed for one hour as would have done honour to the best thinkers that ever adorned assemblies of a more dignified nature. The word ‘Mum’ appeared in large characters on every muzzle, and except a seditious sigh or a treasonable groan that occasionally broke forth, ‘Mum’ was literally the order of the night.” Here is an advertisement of the meetings of the “Thinking Club”:—“The members of this truly constitutional Society continue to meet for the intellectual purpose of silent contemplation every Thursday evening, at the Coopers’ Arms, Cateaton Street, where strong constitutional muzzles are provided at the door by Citizen Avery, tailor to the swinish multitude. The questions still to be thought of are: Is man really a thinking animal or not? and if he is, as thinking is rather a troublesome operation of the mind, ought he not to be thankful that his betters kindly think for him? The chair to be taken at half-past seven. Thinking to begin precisely at eight.”

But war brought its usual concomitant of want, and the sufferings of the people led to deep-seated discontent. The weavers called a meeting for the 24th of May, 1808, to ask for the establishment of a minimum rate of wages. The meeting was resumed on the following day, and although it was quite orderly, the Riot Act was read, and the military were ordered to clear the ground. One of the weavers was killed, several were wounded, and several arrested. Colonel Hanson, the commander of a local volunteer corps, tried to persuade the men to disperse by a promise that their interests should be looked after. This was giving “encouragement to the rioters,” and for this he was sentenced to a fine of £100 and six months’ imprisonment in the King’s Bench. Meanwhile the policy of the Government increased the distress of the nation, so that in the cotton districts the people were half-starved, and a scanty dinner of oatmeal and water was too often the only meal in the four and twenty hours. A town’s meeting was called for 8th April, 1812, to thank the Regent for retaining the Anti-Reform Ministry of Castlereagh and Sidmouth. The reformers immediately issued placards calling upon the public to attend. The promoters of the meeting, alarmed at the thought of opposition, now announced that it would not be held, as the staircase was too weak to sustain the pressure of a crowd. People assembled for the expected meeting, and the Exchange was soon surrounded. No authentic account of the beginning of the riot has appeared, but the present writer was informed by an eye-witness that the last touch was put to the anger of the populace by a merchant who afterwards made himself an evil reputation. He was standing at the door of the Exchange, and as a chimney-sweep passed by he struck the lad’s black face with his walking-cane. The populace forced their way into the room, the furniture was destroyed, the windows broken, and the military had to be called out before the place was cleared. This was followed during the next fortnight by food riots and by machine breaking. The authorities, instead of seeing in the existing discontent the symptoms of evils needing remedy, treated every expression of a desire for reform as a crime to be punished with merciless severity. Spies were actively at work fanning the disaffection of the operatives in order to betray them if they could be inveigled into illegality. In 1815, the Corn Law was passed whilst the House of Commons was guarded by soldiers. The Manchester meeting held to protest against its passage was presided over by Mr. Hugh Hornby Birley, who was then Boroughreeve. In 1815, a number of the Radical reformers, chiefly of the artisan class, resolved to adopt an address to the Prince Regent and a petition to the House of Commons in favour of peace and Parliamentary reform. They met at the Elephant, in Tib Street, but hearing that the meeting was likely to be broken up they adjourned to the Prince Regent’s Arms, in Ancoats. John Knight, who was their recognised leader, had just concluded a speech when the room was entered by the famous “Jo” Nadin with a blunderbuss in his hands, and followed by a number of soldiers with fixed bayonets. The reformers were arrested and marched, with their hands tied, to the New Bailey. They were taken before the Rev. W. R. Hay, who, with the gross partiality for which he was notorious, refused to allow Fleming, the spy-witness, to be cross-examined. They were tried at Lancaster in the following August, when Nadin, the constable, admitted that he had sent Fleming as a decoy, and that the spy had asked to be “twisted in”—that is, to be sworn as a member of a seditious society. All who were found in the room were included in the common indictment, and thus could not testify in each other’s behalf. Fortunately Nadin had been too precipitate, and one man escaped his notice. He testified that no oath had been administered, and it was further shown that the two men said to have put the oath to the spy were elsewhere at the time. The thirty-seven prisoners were defended by Brougham and Scarlett, and triumphantly acquitted. They had, however, been in prison for three months, they had been taken from their homes and daily avocations, and it was by the merest good luck that they had escaped transportation.

The writings of William Cobbett had great influence upon the working classes, and his incessant cry for reform met with sympathetic response. The Sunday schools had given elementary instruction to the stronger brains, and native shrewdness, tutored by suffering and hardship, had made them into intelligent politicians. They knew where the shoe pinched, and in spite of some errors of judgment had a clearer conception than their “betters” of the remedy. Sam Bamford, the weaver-poet, was the secretary of a political club at Middleton for Parliamentary reform as a means of obtaining the repeal of the Corn Laws and other desirable objects, and similar clubs existed all over the county.

In 1816, the Ministers suspended the Habeas Corpus Act, and took other measures for burking public discussion. At the “blanketeer” meeting, held at St. Peter’s Fields, 10th March, it was decided that the men should march to London to petition, each with a blanket on his shoulder for protection from cold in the night. The meeting was dispersed by the military, many were arrested, and those who had started on their way to the Metropolis were pursued. The “blanketeers” were overtaken on Lancashire Hill, Stockport, where more were arrested, more wounded, and where one cottager was shot at his own door. It is only fair to the military to state that they showed far more moderation than the magistrates. A few of the “blanketeers” reached Derby. The spies were now at work, and Bamford tells how one of these invited him to join in making a “Moscow of Manchester.” The muddle-headed authorities accepted without inquiry all that their infamous agents told them, and after the arrest of Bamford and others at Ardwick, the Rev. W. R. Hay assured his awe-struck hearers that when these men were tried “purposes of the blackest enormity must be disclosed to the public.” After being taken in irons to London—one of them being an old man of seventy-four—and examined by the Secretary of State, they were discharged, and not even put upon their trial. Yet this “plot” was the chief argument used by Sidmouth for a further suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act. Castlereagh cynically avowed that they had sent Oliver the spy “to see what was going on.” The Lancashire men were warned in time, and Oliver, though he tried hard, had no success here. In Derbyshire, however, he fomented an “insurrection,” and those whom he had first incited to sedition he afterwards betrayed to the scaffold. In 1818, the Manchester reformers sent a petition to the House of Commons, in which they asserted that there never had been in this neighbourhood any reason for the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act, denounced the work of the spies, and asked for an inquiry into the action of the magistrates at Manchester. Bamford and others who had been arrested also petitioned; but Mr. George Philips’s motion for an inquiry by a Committee of the House of Commons was rejected by 162 votes against 69, and the Ministry obtained an Act of indemnity for all their proceedings. Mr. John Greenwood managed to exclude the name of Mr. J. E. Taylor from the list of the Salford assessors because he was a moderate reformer, and asserted that he had written a handbill leading to the destruction at the Exchange in 1812. Mr. Taylor, unable to obtain any retraction or explanation, denounced him as “a liar, a slanderer, and a scoundrel.” For this an action for libel was begun. Mr. Taylor defended himself, and the jury came to the conclusion that the plaintiff was “a liar, a slanderer, and a scoundrel.” Mr. Taylor’s acquittal was chiefly due to the foreman of the jury, Mr. John Rylands, of Warrington, who, resolutely putting aside all legal cobwebs, declined to punish a man for telling the truth.

The year 1819 was an important one for the cause of reform. There was a meeting in St. Peter’s Fields in June, when the people, to embarrass the Government, decided to abstain from excisable articles as far as possible. Roasted corn was to take the place of coffee, sloe leaves to be substituted for tea, and the use of spirits and ale was to be abandoned. The “loyal” inhabitants placarded the town with incentives to drinking, and an attempt was made to pay for this poster out of the church rates. The people had lost hope of obtaining reform by petition, and the notion was broached of appointing a representative to claim a seat in the House of Commons. The reformers of Manchester therefore called a meeting for the purpose of electing “a legislatorial attorney and representative” for the town. This assembly was called for August 9th, but the magistrates declared that it would be illegal, and the intention was abandoned. The reformers then presented a requisition, signed by 700 householders, asking the Boroughreeve to call a town’s meeting. He refused to do so, and it was then decided to hold an open-air meeting in St. Peter’s Fields for the purpose of petitioning for a reform in Parliament. The reformers from all parts of Lancashire were expected to be there, and at Middleton and elsewhere they were drilled into the proper method of marching so that there might be no confusion. The authorities professed to regard these harmless marchings with sticks and broom handles as the presages of revolution. The procession that filed into St. Peter’s Fields on the morning of the 16th August, 1819, was largely composed of young men and young women of the artisan class, dressed out in their Sunday best. They had many flags with them. There were from sixty to eighty thousand people present to give a welcome to Henry Hunt, whose handsome form and power of speech made him at that time the idol of the Lancashire workmen. Loud were the cheers of the multitude as he rode up to the hustings—which had been placed where is now the south-east corner of the Free Trade Hall. The white hats—then the symbol of Radicals—were waved in the air, the men hurrahed, and the women smiled as the hero of the hour approached. The magistrates, perhaps honestly alarmed, but weak and vacillating, now determined to arrest the ringleaders in the face of the assembled multitude. There was not the slightest occasion to fear any riot or disturbance, and active precautions had been taken to overawe the reformers. On the field, in readiness for action, were six troops of the 15th Hussars, a troop of Horse Artillery with two guns, part of the 21st Regiment of Infantry, some companies of the 88th Regiment, above 300 of the Cheshire Yeomanry, and about forty members of the Manchester Yeomanry—sworn foes of reform. As the immense multitude listened in intense silence to the opening sentences of Hunt’s speech, the Manchester Yeomanry, under the command of Mr. H. H. Birley, appeared on the outskirts of the crowd, and were received with shouts. Without one word of warning they set their horses in a gallop, and with their bright swords flashing in the air, they dashed into the crowd, striking right and left with their sabres with all the energy of madmen. They became scattered over the field, and were literally wedged into the palpitating mass of humanity which they were attacking. The Hussars were now ordered to the attack, and for the most part drove the people with the flat of the sword, but the edge also was used. When the yeomanry were extricated they wheeled round and dashed again into the crowd wherever there was an opening, cutting and slashing at all who came before them. In many parts the panic-stricken crowd was literally piled up in heaps. For attending a perfectly peaceable meeting to ask for a reform in Parliament, which had then no representatives of the great towns, and was largely filled by the owners of pocket-boroughs and their nominees, for thus asserting their rights as Englishmen to discuss their grievances, ten men and one woman were killed and 600 were wounded. The man chiefly responsible for this slaughter was the Rev. W. R. Hay, who is said to have read the Riot Act from a neighbouring window, but, if so, did it in such a manner that it was never heard by the crowd. The peaceful nature of the assembly was shown by the number of women and of old men who were in it. Poor old Thomas Blinstone, at the age of 74, was rode over by the yeomanry, and had both arms broken, and said he, “What is wur than aw, mester, they’n broken my spectacles and aw’ve never yet been able to get a pair that suited me.”

The “Peterloo Massacre” was a baptism of blood for the cause of reform, and the Tory victory was worse than a defeat, for it excited the indignation of all England against those who had caused the slaughter of their fellow-subjects for demanding admission within the pale of the Constitution.

The Rev. W. R. Hay wrote to Lord Sidmouth on the night of Peterloo giving his version of the affair. At the same time Mr. J. E. Taylor and Mr. Archibald Prentice each sent a plain account of the disgraceful conduct of the magistrates and the yeomanry. These appeared in London papers, and the accuracy of their narratives was amply confirmed by Mr. John Tyas, the representative of the Times, whom blundering “Jo” Nadin had taken into custody as one of the dreaded conspirators. The effect was to rouse a storm of indignation before which even the obtuse magistrates quailed. On the 19th, a hole-and-corner meeting was held in their interests at the Star Inn, when thanks were awarded to the justices and the yeomanry. This was responded to by a protest signed by 4,800 of the merchants, manufacturers, and others of the “respectable classes,” in which the meeting just mentioned was described as a private one, and those who had thus falsely claimed to speak for Manchester were invited to call a public meeting. On the 27th, Lord Sidmouth conveyed the thanks of the Prince Regent to the magistrates and military “for their prompt, decisive, and efficient measures for the preservation of the public peace.” Mr. Hay and his friends had need of sympathy, for they were the objects of general execration. Meetings all over the kingdom were held, at which their sanguinary interference with the right of public meeting was denounced. The sympathy felt with the working men reformers was not confined to one class. The Duke of Hamilton subscribed to the fund for the relief of the sufferers. Earl Fitzwilliam was dismissed from his post of Lord Lieutenant of the West Riding for his energetic protest against Peterloo. Sir Francis Burdett made a still more vigorous protest, and his letter to the electors of Westminster led to his imprisonment for three months, and the infliction of a fine of £2,000. Shelley, writing to Peacock, exclaims, “What an infernal business this is of Manchester! What is to be done?” What he did was to write his “Mask of Anarchy,” in which he made a call to the nation:—

The effect of Peterloo was to bring forth a greater disposition to united action between the middle and the working classes on the reform question. The authorities on their side strained the law to crush out the reformers. An inquest was opened as to the death of John Lees, who died from the wounds he had received on the field. The object of the coroner was to avoid an unfavourable verdict, and this he accomplished first by not putting in an appearance at all, and then by frequent adjournments, so that the inquest, which opened 8th September, continued until December, and was never concluded. When Parliament met in November, Earl Grey moved an amendment to the Address in which the Manchester massacre was denounced as illegal and unconstitutional, but this was defeated by a large majority, as was a similar motion in the House of Commons. Sidmouth carried the series of coercive measures known as the “Six Acts,” and the powers of reaction were in full triumph. Several efforts were made, but in vain, to bring the assailants of the meeting to justice, and even as late as 1822 an unsuccessful action was brought against Captain Birley and three others of the yeomanry by one whom they had cut down.

Whilst the reformers were thus baffled in their endeavours to obtain justice, the partisan magistrates and judges made short work of those who fell into their power. Hunt and others who were arrested at Peterloo were sent to Lancaster, and the trial was removed to York. It was so plain that the Peterloo meeting was not illegal in itself, that every effort was made to connect it with previous drillings on White Moss, where a spy named Murray had been beaten by some of the reformers assembled there. The banners, one of which had on it the words, “Equal Representation or Death,” and others inscribed “No Corn Laws,” “No Boroughmongers,” were also made the most of. Five of the accused were acquitted, but Hunt, Johnson, Knight, Healey, and Bamford were found guilty of seditious conspiracy. Hunt received sentence of two years’ imprisonment, whilst Bamford and the others were condemned to a year’s imprisonment. Johnson was refused permission to visit, even in the custody of an officer, the deathbed of his wife. The Government had soon an opportunity of rewarding the Rev. Mr. Hay, and his appointment soon after Peterloo to the rich living of Rochdale increased the popular hatred which pursued him to the grave. An epigram of the time reads:—

There was no perceptible change in the position of the reform question for some years. The House of Commons was in the hands of the boroughmongers, and the traffic in seats was notorious. Whilst Manchester was unrepresented, there were 200 members returned by 100 boroughs, whose united population was less than that of Manchester alone. In 1827, Manchester was fluttered by the prospect of a seat in Parliament being assigned to it. Penrhyn was then in bad odour for its corruption, and Lord John Russell gave notice that if it were disfranchised he would move that its power of electing two members should be transferred to Manchester. A meeting convened by persons of all parties was held in the still unplastered room of what is now the Old Town Hall. Tories like Mr. H. H. Birley and Mr. Benjamin Braidley were joined with Radicals and Whigs like Mr. Thomas Potter, Mr. G. W. Wood, Mr. John Shuttleworth, and Mr. F. R. Atkinson to petition for representation. This was all the more necessary since a member of the House of Commons, Mr. Legh Keck, strenuously denied that the great towns desired to have representatives in Parliament. The history of the bill was curious. It passed the Commons, and the second reading in the Lords was fixed for 23rd June. Lord Lyndhurst held that as there were 420 voters and only fourteen were shown to have been bribed, the further progress of the measure should be resisted. Lord de Dunstanville, who had property in the neighbourhood, naturally concurred. Lord Eldon had not known “a case so utterly destitute of foundation.” Lord Dacre declared that as the object of the bill was to transfer the franchise from the landed to the commercial interest he should oppose it. The then Marquis of Salisbury called attention to the preamble of the bill, which ran—“Whereas, on account of the great wealth and population of Manchester, it is expedient that it should return burgesses to Parliament.” “Now,” said the noble Lord, “in that single sentence were embodied all the wildest doctrines of reform. If there were no other ground for opposition he should oppose this bill on that ground alone. As no other noble lord had objected to the bill on that ground he had determined to enter his protest against such doctrines being smuggled into a bill to ruin the constitution.” In face of this Tory opposition the bill was withdrawn. A town’s meeting was held at Manchester in February, 1830, when Mr. John Brooks exhibited a list of bad debts for the year 1829, amounting to £11,180, and of bad debts in January-February, 1830, to the extent of £981. Mr. Prentice, Mr. Elijah Dixon, and others who spoke referred to the constitution of Parliament as the cause why no attempt was made to remedy the existing distress. In Parliament Lord John Russell vainly endeavoured to obtain hearing for a proposal to give Birmingham, Manchester, and Leeds representatives; O’Connell tried to bring in a bill for universal suffrage, triennial parliaments, and the ballot. Lord John Russell moved two resolutions in favour of an increased number of representatives, and for the additional ones being given to the large towns and populous counties. Both proposals were rejected by large majorities.

The death of George IV. on the 26th June, 1830, may be taken as the landmark between the old and the new era. The French revolution of July gave an impetus to the desire for reform at home. The Boroughreeve of Manchester declined to call a meeting of the inhabitants to congratulate the French people on the reconquest of their liberty, but the meeting was held in spite of official opposition, and Mr. Mark Philips, Mr. Alexander Kay, and Mr. J. C Dyer were appointed a deputation to convey the address then adopted to Paris. The need for reform at home was insisted upon by Mr. Richard Potter, Mr. R. H. Greg, Mr. G. Hadfield, and other speakers. The reformers were staggered when Parliament met in November by the language of the Duke of Wellington, who said that “he had never heard or read of any measure up to the present moment which could in any degree satisfy his mind that the state of the representation could be improved or be rendered more satisfactory to the country at large than at the present time. He was fully convinced that the country possessed at the present moment a Legislature which answered all the good purposes of legislation, and this to a greater degree than any Legislature ever answered in any country whatever.... He was not only not prepared, but he would at once declare that, so far as he was concerned, as long as he held any station in the Government of the country, he should always feel it to be his duty to resist such measures when proposed by others.” The Duke next advised the King that it would be unsafe to trust himself in the city. On the 15th, the Duke was defeated and resigned, and Earl Grey took his place pledged to peace, retrenchment, and reform.

In Manchester the year was remarkable for the opening of the Manchester and Liverpool Railway, and the formation of a Political Union very much on the plan of that of Birmingham. This association was at first mainly composed of shopkeepers and working men, but was afterwards joined by representatives of all classes. Amongst the artisan members was Mr. Rowland Detrosier, a self-taught workman, remarkable for the extent of his intellectual acquirements and for his great oratorical powers. An early death cut short a career that promised the highest distinction. In January, 1831, a requisition was presented to the Boroughreeve and constables asking them to call a meeting to petition for reform. They declined because the town was in an excited state. A great meeting was, however, held on the 20th, and the petition adopted. On the 31st a petition for representation was adopted at a town’s meeting in Salford. When Lord John introduced the bill on the 1st of March he put the case of the great towns very neatly. “Our opponents say our ancestors gave Old Sarum representatives, therefore we should give Old Sarum representatives. We say our ancestors gave Old Sarum representatives because it was a large town; therefore we give representatives to Manchester, which is a large town.” Henry Hunt, who spoke on the second day of the debate, vindicated the reform agitation in which he had taken part, and, in spite of attempts to drown his voice, denounced “the drunken and infuriated yeomanry” who had slaughtered the people in 1819 for doing that which the Government was then doing—advocating the propriety of Parliamentary reform. A town’s meeting was held in Manchester on the 8th March to thank the Ministry for the introduction of the bill. This was the first gathering of the kind that had ever been convened by the authorities. In the House of Commons the second reading was carried by a majority of one. In the Committee stage there was a long fight, and on their proposal to reduce the number of members, the Government were put in a minority of eight. The King, although regarded by the public as a reformer, was really in great dread of the bill, and had refused to dissolve until stung by some language used in the Lords. “What did they dare to meddle with the prerogative?” he exclaimed, and then declared that he would go down to dissolve the House in a hackney coach if necessary. He went down. “Turn the rogues out, your Majesty,” was the advice of a rough sailor who rushed from the crowd to the side of the carriage. He gave voice to the feeling of the nation. Parliament was dissolved, and the Tories strained every nerve to secure a victory at the polls. The Duke of Northumberland alone is said to have subscribed £100,000 to their election fund. But the nation at large saw that the choice lay between reform and revolution, and a great majority of the counties and free boroughs returned candidates who were pledged to support the bill. The bill was re-introduced, and passed the second reading on July 7th by a majority of 136. Next day “Orator” Hunt presented a petition from 194,000 working people of Manchester and the district in favour of universal suffrage, annual parliaments, and vote by ballot. When the question of enfranchisement came up, some members argued that as Manchester was to have two members, there was no need to give one to Salford. The bill was introduced on the 25th of June, but the tactics of delay were so well observed that the third reading was not reached until September 22nd. That very day there was a town’s meeting in Manchester, when Mr. James Burt, the Boroughreeve, again presided. The speakers included Mr. Richard Potter, Mr. Mark Philips, Mr. R. H. Greg, Mr. G. Hadfield, and others. The only dissentient was a working man, who was, however, ready to accept the bill as a stepping-stone to something better. A similar meeting was held in Salford in the following week. The bill was brought into the House of Lords on the 3rd of October, and its rejection was moved by the Earl of Wharncliffe. The debate was continued until the 8th, when the votes for the bill were 158, against 199. The majority of 41 included a contingent of 21 Tory bishops, on whose behalf the then Archbishop of Canterbury made the hypocritical declaration “that to a temperate and safe reform he would offer no objections.” The prelates have since learned more sense.

On the 12th October there was an immense gathering in Manchester. The first intention was to hold a meeting in the then Riding School in Lower Mosley Street, which would hold about 4,000 persons. The street was, however, so full of eager candidates for admission that it was decided to hold the meeting in the open-air at Campfield. The Boroughreeve, not feeling equal to the control of such a gathering, Mr. (afterwards Sir) Thomas Potter presided over this meeting of one hundred thousand persons. The temper of the people was bitterly hostile to the Lords. When Mr. Shuttleworth spoke of the necessity of creating fresh peers, the response was, “No more peers; we’ve had enough of them.” One of the Radicals, Mr. R. J. Richardson, moved an amendment asking the King to issue writs to populous boroughs, to withhold them from rotten boroughs, to create no new peers, but to take such other measures as would ensure a bill for universal suffrage, annual parliaments, and vote by ballot. This was carried by an enormous majority, and the vast assembly then peaceably dispersed. At Bristol and other places there were disastrous riots. In Manchester the influence of the Political Union and the good sense of the people generally, who were willing to accept the bill as a substantial instalment of reform, prevented any outbreak. Parliament was prorogued until December 6th. The second bill was introduced on the 12th, and the second reading was carried in the early hours of Sunday morning, December 18th, by a majority of 162 in a House of 486. The third reading was not reached until March 19th, when 355 voted for and 239 against. The great question now was, “What will the Lords do?” It soon became apparent that they would mutilate the bill. On a motion by Lord Lyndhurst, the Ministry found themselves in a minority of 35. The King’s fears had been increased by the riots, and he refused Earl Grey the power to create such fresh peers as would give him a majority. The Ministry resigned, and the Duke of Wellington, as the leader of the Tories, was “sent for” on the 9th of May. The news reached Manchester by seven o’clock on the following morning, and the excitement was intense. Business was suspended, and groups of citizens were seen discussing the gravity of the situation. The Reform Committee had sat daily at the Town Hall since the previous September, and thither flocked the friends of reform. On the motion of Mr. Absolom Watkin, a petition to the Commons was adopted, calling upon them to refuse to vote any supplies until the bill was passed. The petition was not placed for signature until nearly three o’clock, but by six it had received 24,000 signatures, and Mr. Richard Potter, Mr. John Fielden, and Mr. John Shuttleworth set off in a chaise to take it to London. They departed amidst the cheers of the multitude, and had an enthusiastic greeting at Leek, Derby, Northampton, and other places on the road. The journey was accomplished in seventeen hours. As they approached London they gave reports of the meeting and copies of the petition to the passengers of the coaches on the road, and the news spread like wildfire through the country. The petition was presented to the House that same night by Mr. John Wood, M.P. for Preston. This was the first call to the Commons to stop supplies until reform was obtained, and it had quickly many echoes.

Peterloo was the place selected for an open-air meeting on the 14th. Mr. C. J. S. Walker, the son of the man whose house had been attacked by the Tories of 1792, was called to the chair, and the venerable Robert Philips, a veteran of ’92, moved the first resolution. Mr. Elijah Dixon and Mr. Joseph Johnson, who had been imprisoned after Peterloo, were amongst the speakers. A town’s meeting was held in Salford, and another in Chorlton. Throughout the country the same sentiment prevailed, and it was said that the Duke of Wellington would try to form a Ministry that should deal with reform. The announcement was received with such a storm of indignation that even the victor of Waterloo was cowed. The King had to recall Earl Grey, but to avoid the creation of fresh peers a sufficient number of the Lords abstained from the divisions, and the Reform Bill became law on the 7th of June, 1832. The general joy found expression in a grand procession of the authorities and trade societies of Manchester and Salford on the 9th of August. In the long debates on the Reform Bill nothing is more remarkable than the distrust of the people felt by the opponents of reform. There was a prophetic instinct in Earl Grey’s reply to a sneer of the Earl of Dudley. “The Earl of Dudley,” said Earl Grey, “will live to learn a lesson from the statesmen of Birmingham and the philanthropists of Manchester.”