Last of Four Generations of Wig-Makers

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 726, 27 July 1929, Page 30

Last of Four Generations of Wig-Makers

Why Does Bench and Bar Wear Horsehair? DIGNITY OF COURT The death a few months ago of the well-known maker of lawyers’ wigs, Mr. Ernest Ward Ravenscroft, of Star Yard, Carey Street, London, has disclosed the fact that he was the last of four generations of legal wigmakers, all born in the same house (writes L. M. Addison in the Sydney “Daily Telegraph”). Mr. Ravenscroft left a large fortune, presumably made in the course o£ his business. What was the origin ot the practice of judges and members ot the Bar wearing wigs made of horsehair? As a of tact, artificial locks composed ot various kinds of material were familiar to the Egyptians long before the Pyramids were built, but it was not until the seventeenth century that wigs at first made of human hair were introduced by the lawyers into England. Paris, that city of all the vanities, was responsible for the innovation.

Wigs soon became popular with Bench and Bar in England, but a few ot "the old brigade,” notably Chief Justice Hale, strongly objected to them, and still retained the velvet caps, coifs, or corner caps which had been worn by the common law judges tor generations. Sir Matthew Hale not only refused to wear a wig himself, but on various occasions lectured the junior Bar on the “foppishness” of their attire when they came into his court wearing that kind of head-dress. These admonitions, however, apparently had no permanent effect, because it soon became evident trom the general use of wigs that they had come to stay. With the growing popularity ot the new fashion, caps fell into disfavour, but a cap is still worn on top of the judicial wig when an English judge passes sentence of death. In that form It is known as the “black cap,” and is a relic of the past which has sensibly been allowed to disappear in the courts of this State. With the exception of the black cap, the Supreme Court ot New South Wales has always been careful to keep as far as possible to all the details of judicial attire maintained in the English courts, and has never encouraged movements toward the curtailment ot any part ot its official costume.

It is a rare occasion when a judge ot the court in question, even in the hottest weather, discards his legal head covering; but, curiously enough, one ot the judges of the High Court of Australia very often removes his wig immediately he takes his seat on the Bench. It Is reassuring to know, however, that up to the present nothing alarming has happened as a consequence. The roof of the courtroom is still intact, and there is no record of any honest litigant having been deprived of his legal rights because his Honour has seen fit to dispense justice without the additional weight on his head of a pound or so ot horsehair.

It Is whispered also that judges of the District Court, when presiding "outback,” sometimes relax the conventions and doff their wigs when the thermometer has passed its century and Is still piling up runs. By that time nobody is very critical, because the only thing that really matters is whether the bi-weekly train has arrived with the ice in time to reach the local hotel tor the mid-day adjournment. Toward the end of the seventeenth century the wearing ot wigs at the Bar was practically universal in England. It was not so, however, across the border. With true Scottish caution. advocates in the ’“land ot cakes” for a long time made no change in their headgear. They continued to wear cocked hats and powdered hair until the middle ot the eighteenth century.

Before the introduction of wigs in England, it was customary for the Lord Chancellor in court, and the Speaker of the ot Commous in Parliament, to wear a hat. Mr. Sergeant Bradsfiaw did the same when presiding at the trial of Charles 1., but took the precaution ot having his hat, a “big-crowned beaver,” lined with plated steel to ward oft possible blows from protesting Royalists. Mr. Bradshaw, by taking this precaution, revived in a modified degree the helmet ot the armoured knight of the Middle Ages, and anticipated the “tin hat” of modern warfare. There is an old story told about Lord Ellenborough and his wig. His wife persuaded him on one occasion to take her with him on circuit, but the Lord Chief Justice only consented on the understanding that the carriage was not to be encumbered with bandboxes, which were his pet aversion. All went well on the journey until his Lordship happened to strike his toot against some object under the seat. Up went the window, and out went a bandbox. It- fell on the roadside, and was left there. It was not until Lord Ellenborough and his wife arrived at the assize town, many miles farther on, and the Chief Justice began to robe for his court, that he missed his wig. He was then informed that he had thrown it out of the carriage window. History has not recorded what Lord Ellenborough said when he realised what had happened, but it is probable that he relieved his feelings satisfactorily. All judges are human.

Another Chief Justice, Lord Kenyon, was noted tor the meanness of his attire and the brevity of his judgments. He had two hats, the better ot which it is said would have disgraced an “old clo’ ” man, and the other might have fittingly adorned a scarecrow. He also possessed two wigs, the shabbier of which he was accustomed to cover in court with one of his hats. The effect must have been ludicrous, and it is sa£e to say that a judge appearing in court nowadays in similar guise might, with some justification, cause a certain amount ot excitement at the Bar table. Our American cousins, or “uncles” (they lent us quite a lot of money some years ago) have declined to adopt the wig as part ot the trappings of justice in their superior courts. By not doing so, they have perhaps gained in comfort but lost in dignity. After all, however, it is a matter ot opinion, and as our old friend Sir Roger de Coverley used to say, “There is much to be said on both sides.”