THE CASE OF THE MISSING WIG – is Scotland'’s strangest relic still hidden in Leith?

An ongoing investigation by our New York correspondent Tony Perrottet:

Leith has been home to many odd artifacts, but surely none are more exotic than the mascot of the Wig Club – a headpiece made from pubic hairs plucked from King Charles II’s mistresses. It was last seen, according to the leading historian on the subject, “in a lawyer’s office in Leith” – although the author was unable to track it down.

The origin of the relic dates back to 1651, when the hedonistic Charles II visited Scotland and was treated to riotous drinking parties, especially at Castle Dreel in Fife. Many years later, he sent as a gift back to his debauched Scottish friends a wig woven from his lovers’ most intimate parts. (Plucking pubic hairs as souvenirs was a tradition amongst libertines of the 17th century).

The wig was treasured in county Fife. It was passed on by its first keeper, the Earl of Moray, to younger generations, and even used in the rites of a local sex club called the Beggar’s Benison. (There appears to have been some obscure belief that it would pass on the royal virility).

But in 1775, Lord Moray, a descendent of the original owner, ran off with the prized wig to Edinburgh and started his own breakaway association – the Wig Club. A wooden box was created to house the relic, and a carved wig-stand. At meetings held in Fortune’s Tavern, the headpiece was worn by “The Lord Protector of the Wig.” New club members – many of whom were local lawyers – would kiss the wig, which now must have been in a fragile state, and add a hair from their own mistress’ nether-regions to its fraying fabric. The monthly Wig Club parties, unsurprisingly, involved much drinking, gambling and “bawdy behavior.”

The Wig Club continued activities until 1827, when its meetings petered out. But the odd relics floated around Scotland. Some time around 1865, the last surviving Wig Club member, Matthew F. Conolly, gave the items to a Glasgow Minister, who then donated them in 1897 to the Kelvingrove Museum. In 1922, they were purchased by a retired Scottish army officer named M.R. Kavanagh, who tried for a time to actually revive the Wig Club, without much success. It appears that the wig itself was separated from its box and stand. When the historian Louis C. Jones of Columbia University tried to track it down in 1938, he received the report that it was in a lawyer’s office in Leith, “although which lawyer’s office (Jones writes sadly) this author did not discover.”

Could the wig – no doubt the worse for wear – still be somewhere in the musty cupboards of a Leith solicitor’s office? Or was it destroyed by a horrified clerk?

Anyone with any information on the items whereabouts, please drop a line to historian Tony Perrottet on tonyperrottet@gmail.com. (His website is www.tonyperrottet.com).