Charles II. did not bring the fashion with him to Whitehall. On the contrary, he withstood it. He forbade the members of the University to wear periwigs, smoke tobacco, or read their sermons. The members did all three, and Charles soon found himself doing the first two. “On the 2nd November, 1663,” says Pepys, “I heard the Duke say, that he was going to wear a periwig; and they say the King also will. I never till this day,” he adds, “observed that the King was so mighty grey.” This perhaps was the reason why Charles stooped to assume what he had before denounced. Pepys himself had adventured on the step in the previous May; and what a business it was for the little man! Hear him. “8th. At Mr. Jervas’s, my old barber. I did try two or three borders and periwigs, meaning to wear one; and yet I have no stomach for it; but that the pains of keeping my hair clean is so great. He trimmed me, and at last I parted; but my mind was almost altered from my first purpose, from the trouble which I foresee will be in wearing them also.” He took some time to make up his mind; and only in October of the same year does he take poor Mrs. Pepys “to my periwig maker’s, and there showed my wife the periwig made for me, and she likes it very well.” In April, 1665, the wig was in the hands of Jervas, under repair. In the meantime, our old friend took to his natural hair; but early in May we find him recording, “that this day, after I had suffered my own hayre to grow long, in order to wearing it, I find the convenience of periwigs is so great, that I have cut off all short again, and will keep to periwigs.” In the autumn, on Sunday the 3rd of September, the wicked little gallant moralizes thus on periwigs and their prospects. “Up, and put on my coloured silk suit, very fine, and my new periwig, bought a good while since, but durst not wear, because the plague was in Westminster when I bought it; and it is a wonder what will be the fashion, after the plague is done, as to periwigs, for nobody will dare to buy any hayre for fear of the infection, that it had been cut off the heads of people dead of the plague.” The plague and fear thereof were clean forgotten before many months had passed; and in June, 1666, Pepys says:—“Walking in the galleries at Whitehall, I find the ladies of honour dressed in their riding-garbs, with coats and doublets with deep skirts, just for all the world like mine; and buttoned their doublets up their breasts, with periwigs and with hats. So that only for a long petticoat dragging under their men’s coats, nobody could take them for women in any point whatever; which was an odd sight, and a sight that did not please me.” The moralist at Whitehall, however, could forget his mission when at “Mercer’s.” There, on the 14th of August, 1666, the thanksgiving day for the recent naval victory, after “hearing a piece of the Dean of Westminster’s sermon,” dining merrily, enjoying the sport at