nce been the property of King Charles II. He had
purchased this curious relic at the sale of the effects of a Mr.
Rawle, accoutrement-maker to George III. When the wig was submitted
for sale, Suett took possession of it, and, putting it on his head,
began to bid for it with a gravity that the bystanders found to be
irresistibly comical. It was at once declared that the wig should
become the actor's property upon his own terms, and it was forthwith
knocked down to him by the auctioneer. The wig appeared upon the stage
during many years, until at last it was destroyed, with much other
valuable property, in the fire which burnt to the ground the
Birmingham Theatre. Suett's grief was extreme. "My wig's gone!" he
would say, mournfully, for some time after the fire, to every one he
met. Suett, Mathews, and Knight were at one time reputed to possess
the most valuable stock of wigs in the profession. Knight's collection
was valued, after his death, at L250.

The stage-wig is sometimes liable to unfortunate accidents. In the
turbulent scenes of tragedy, when the catastrophe is reached, and the
hero, mortally stricken, falls upon the stage heavily and rigidly, in
accordance with the ruling of immemorial tradition, the wig, like an
unskilful rider upon a restive steed, is apt to become unseated. Many
a defunct Romeo has been constrained to return to life for a moment in
order that he might entreat Juliet, in a whisper, just as her own
suicide is imminent, to contrive, if possible, a readjustment of his
wig, which, in the throes of his demise, had parted from his head, or,
at least, to fling her veil over him, and so conceal his mischance
from public observation. To Mr. Bensley, the tragedian, so much
admired by Charles Lamb, and so little by any other critic, a curious
accident is said to have happened. He was playing Richard III. in an
Irish theatre; the curtain had risen, and he was advancing to the
foot-lights to deliver his opening soliloquy, when an unlucky nail in
the side wing caught a curl of his full-flowing majestic wig and
dragged it from his head. He was a pedantic, solemn actor, with a
sepulchral voice and a stiff stalking gait. Anthony Pasquin has
recorded a derisive description of his histrionic method:

With three minuet steps in all parts he advances,
Then retires three more, strokes his chin, prates and prances,
With a port as majestic as Astley's horse dances.

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