As Hotspur, he wore “a laced frock and Ramilies wig.”  When John Kemble first played Hamlet he appeared in a black velvet court suit, with laced ruffles and powdered hair, if not a periwig.  It is to be noted, however, that there was nothing in this system of dress to shock the spectators of the time.  Powdered wigs were the vogue, and it was not considered strange that the actor should be attired similarly to the audience.  Some ventures had been made in the direction of correctness of costume, but they had been regarded as rather dangerous innovations.  Garrick candidly confessed himself timid about the matter.  Benjamin West once inquired of the actor why he did not reform the costume of the stage.  “The audience would not stand it,” said Garrick; “they would throw a bottle at my head if I attempted any alteration.”  The truth was, perhaps, that Garrick had won his triumphs under the old system, and was disinclined, therefore, to risk any change.

Actors have often been zealous treasurers of theatrical properties and appliances, and some have formed very curious collections of stage-wigs.  Munden, who was most heedful as to his appearance in the theatre, always provided his own costume, wearing nothing that belonged to the wardrobe of the manager, and giving large sums for any dress that suited his fancy.  His wigs were said to be of great antiquity and value; they were in the care of, and daily inspected by, a hairdresser attached to the theatre.  Edwin’s biography records that that actor’s “wiggery cost him more than a hundred pounds, and he could boast of having perukes in his collection which had decorated the heads of monarchs, judges, aldermen, philosophers, sailors, jockeys, beaux, thieves, tailors, tinkers, and haberdashers.”  Suett, also a great wig-collector, is reputed to have assumed on the stage, in the burlesque of “Tom Thumb,” a large black peruke with flowing curls, that had once 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.