“Triumphing Tories and desponding Whigs,
Forget their feuds, and join to save their wigs.”
Although precautions were taken to prevent wigs being stolen, we are told that robberies were frequently committed. Sam Rogers thus describes a successful mode of operation: “A boy was carried covered over in a butcher’s tray by a tall man, and the wig was twisted off in a moment by the boy. The bewildered owner looked all around for it, when an accomplice impeded his progress under the pretence of assisting him while the tray-bearer made off.”
Gay, in his “Trivia,” thus writes:—
“Nor is the flaxen wig with safety worn:
High on the shoulders in a basket borne
Lurks the sly boy, whose hand, to rapine bred,
Plucks off the curling honours of thy head.”
We will bring our gossip about wigs to a close with an account of the Peruke Riot. On February 11th, 1765, a curious spectacle was witnessed in the streets of London, and one that caused some amusement. Fashion had changed; the peruke was no longer in favour, and only worn to a limited extent. A large number of peruke-makers were thrown out of employment, and distress prevailed amongst them. The sufferers thought that help might be obtained from George III., and a petition was accordingly drawn up for the enforcement of gentlefolk wearing wigs for the benefit of the wig-makers. A procession was formed, and waited upon the King at St. James’s Palace. His Majesty, we are told, returned a gracious answer, but it must have cost him considerable effort to have maintained his gravity.
Besides the monarch, the unemployed had to encounter the men of the metropolis, and from a report of the period we learn they did not fare so well. “As the distressed men went processionally through the town,” says the account, “it was observed that most of the wig-makers, who wanted other people to wear them, wore no wigs themselves; and this striking the London mob as something monstrously unfair and inconsistent, they seized the petitioners, and cut off all their hair per force.”
Horace Walpole alludes to this ludicrous petition in one of his letters. “Should we wonder,” he writes, “if carpenters were to remonstrate that since the Peace there is no demand for wooden legs?” The wags of the day could not allow the opportunity to pass without attempting to provoke more mirth out of the matter, and a petition was published purporting to come from the body carpenters imploring his Majesty to wear a wooden leg, and to enjoin his servants to appear in his royal presence with the same graceful decoration.