blue and white uniforms were almost instantly
seen as the troopers galloped down Mosely-
street and Peter-street, and ranged themselves,
sword in hand, in front of the "Cottage," a
well-known building on the south side of Peter's
Field, near where the magistrates were at the
windows. Hunt, seeing the yeomen, to save
the people breaking on that side nearest the
horses, cried out that it was only some trick to
frighten the meeting, and called to the people
round the hustings to stand firm, and give three
cheers of good will. The yeomanry remained
under the wall about five minutes, during which
time, it is said, the Riot Act was read. They
then waved their swords and dashed at once into
the crowd. They were soon brought to a stand:
the crowd was dense, and now held firm. The
yeomanry ranks were broken, the troopers
separated, got wedged in the mob, powerless
alike to retire or advance. There was no great
harm in this dilemma; there they could have
remained till the meeting was over, and as the
crowd dispersed have arrested the speakers.
No overt act had been committed; no yeoman
was pulled from his horse, struck, or pelted.

At this moment—so immediately that the
closest observers describe it as simultaneously—
two squadrons of hussars cantered up round
the west side of the field. They had only
been a quarter of a mile off. Mr. Hulton sees
the Manchester yeomanry, his own friends, as
he thinks, in danger. Colonel L'Estrange asks
him what he is to do. The magistrate, in an
agony of frenzied, but quite irrational alarm,
cries:

"Good God, sir, do you not see how they are
attacking the yeomanry? Disperse the crowd."

Fatal and foolish words! The officer is a
mere agent of the civil power; it is not for him
to reflect or decide. The men look along the
line waiting for his cry.  He shouts,
"Forward!" the trumpet sounds, and the three
hundred and seventy men dash down on the eighty
thousand close-packed and harmless people. Mr.
Hulton (imbecile!) leaves the window, "because
he would rather not see any advance of the
military." We all remember the fool in the
Proverbs, who flung about firebrands and called
it sport. The charge swept the people down
in heaps. Yeomen and constables were trampled
back by their too zealous friends; men, women,
and children were piled in struggling masses.
An eye-witness says:

"The troops instantly dashed off at full gallop
amongst the people, actually hacking their way
up to the hustings. A cordon of special
constables was drawn from the house occupied by
the magistrates towards the stage, and fared as ill
from the attacks of the soldiers as the people at
large. A comparatively undisciplined body, led
on by officers who had never had any experience
in military affairs, and probably all under the
influence both of personal fear and considerable
political feelings of hostility, could not be
expected to act either with coolness or discrimination;
and, accordingly, men, women, and
children, constables and reformers, were all
equally exposed to their attacks; numbers were
trampled down, and numbers were cut down.
When they arrived at the hustings, sixteen
banners and a cap of liberty were torn or cut
from the hands of those who held them, and
Hunt, Johnston, and Seaton, with several other
persons, including three or four women, were
taken into custody. Hunt was hurried along
by the constables to the house where the
magistrates were sitting, crying out  'Murder!' as he
was every instant struck by the bludgeons of
numbers of constables who surrounded him.
An attempt was made to knock his hat off, but
unsuccessfully; and just as he was going up the
steps a person struck him on the head with both
fists."

But the dreadful scene of slaughter and
uncalled-for cruelty had eye-witnesses of a far
more observant and thoughtful description than
the one whose letter we have just quoted.
Bamford, a man honest and true to the core, watched
it all with a beating heart and with burning
eyes.

When he first saw the troops launched at the
unoffending people, he called out to those near
him—he, perhaps, scarcely knew why—"They
are riding upon us; stand fast." The cry rang
through the ranks of the Middleton men.
"Stand fast!"  The cavalry got confused.
"They evidently," he says, "could not, with all
the weight of man and. horse, penetrate that
compact mass of human beings; and their sabres
were plied to hew a way through naked held-up
hands and defenceless heads; and then chopped
limbs and wound-gaping skulls were seen; and
groans and cries were mingled with the din of
that horrid confusion.  'Ah! ah!'  ' For shame!
for shame!'  was shouted. Then 'Break! break!
They are killing them in front, and they cannot
get away;' and there was a general cry of
'Break! break!'  For a moment the crowd held
back as in a pause; then was a rush, heavy and
resistless as a headlong sea, and a sound like
low thunder, with screams, prayers, and
imprecations from the crowd, moiled and sabre-
doomed, who could not escape.... In ten
minutes from the commencement of the havoc,
the field was an open and almost deserted space.
The sun looked down through a sultry and
motionless air....The hustings remained,
with a few broken and hewed flag-staves erect,
and a torn and gashed banner or two dropping;
whilst over the whole field were strewed caps,
bonnets, hats, shawls, and shoes, and other parts
of male and female dress, trampled, torn, and
bloody....Several mounds of human beings
still remained where they had fallen, crushed
down and smothered. Some of these still groaning,
others with staring eyes, were gasping for
breath; and others would never breathe more.
All was silent save those low sounds, and the
occasional snorting and pawing of steeds.
Persons might sometimes be noticed peeping
from attics and over the tall ridgings of houses,
but they quickly withdrew, as if fearful of being
observed, or unable to sustain the full gaze of a
scene so hideous and abhorrent."