Theo Robertson Parrswood High School

Theo Robertson

Parrswood High School

Peterloo

Streaks of red lit the new-born sky, not a cloud was in sight to kiss the expanse of heaven. The summer’s dawn was beginning, as honeyed light slathered the hive.

It was barely morn, yet humble souls were spinning and weaving, shovelling and hammering, grasping England’s heart with both soot-covered hands and pulling her and pushing her to glory.

I turned my face away from the dawn and down at my filthy feet. Deciding between buying food and buying shoes is an easy choice to make, especially when your last meal was last week. I started what had now become my morning routine. Knock, knock and knock again, on every door, up and down the cobblestone streets, pleading for work. There had been more competition recently, more dirty feet tapping on the cobbles. People were noticing, adding to the long list of grievances.

There were murmurs before. Then the murmurs turned to growls.

Of course, London knew when to bring out the muzzle. Stamped on that wellworn leather:

The Riot Act 1714

The hard leather had held, and over the past few years any attempt at protest was silenced. Yet that hadn’t stopped us. Another meeting was today - St Peter’s Field. Already I knew this would be big, and as I walked onto Quay Street headed towards the centre of my city I was joined by more and more of Manchester’s citizens. On a hot summer’s day like this, something may catch fire.

But there were no shouts of fury as we all marched along. No cries of revolution, nor baying for royal blood. Instead, a silence saturated our journey, and we were joined by more and more, cotton spinners, bakers, purse pinchers and shoemakers. Carpenters, fishmongers, weavers and dreamers all rubbed shoulders, and walked with stoic determination toward the square.

And what a square. Thousands upon thousands of souls came into view as our humble procession disintegrated, its members spotting friends and acquaintances gathered on the field. Many groups had already formed, each with their own reason to congregate. As I had come on my own, and as I was quite early, I spent the morning wandering the huge field, marvelling at the different types of people gathered there. People and children sat and lay, enjoying the marvellous weather.

It was probably around lunchtime when a row of immaculate constables formed two long lines cutting through the field. They had created a passageway, connecting the podium (two wagons lashed together) to a building on the edge of the field. The crowd was electric, and by now almost the entire field was absolutely flooded with people. From my vantage point I could just make out a line of well-dressed gentlemen proceeding through the cleared path towards the podium. Standing on the podium, they began to speak. They all were convincing, calling for change and stirring the heart of the crowd. With passion and anger, they spoke of the disgraceful state of our city. They talked of children sleeping in slums, maimed by the mouths of cotton machines, which were driven by the greed of factory owners. They spun yarns of young men in their prime, taken down by diseases that the elite had never even heard of. They demanded action from parliament, yet these were not uproarious revolutionaries, merely citizens demanding change.

They were a voice –a voice interrupted by the thunder of hooves. The crowd gasped as cavalry pounded through the narrow lane, the constables practically diving out of the way. Intent on arresting the speakers, the riders failed to see that the passageway was too narrow for their horses. Their foolish tactics turned to mania, and as the August sun glinted off their falling sabres, cries were permanently silenced. Chaos reigned.

The crowd recoiled in shock and fear, and attempted to flee the field as men and women were trampled underfoot. Barring their escape were more soldiers, bayonets lowered. The mass of people where now trapped, desperately running from the cavalry. Breath hoarse and lungs heaving, I managed to sprint free of the main mass. To my infinite relief, a captain had managed to collect the cavalry back into a formation. At last, there would be an end to this madness. My stomach lurched as I watched the captain motion with his arm, and upon his orders the cavalry charged, sabres raised straight towards the crowd. I saw everything.

Streaks of red fell upon the empty vessels, as everything else had been claimed by heaven.