Hair Pulling History

Thanks to Geoff for this info!

Using a search engine, I looked through a couple of thousand of old books, including one version of
the Bible.

There were numerous references to pulling and plucking of hair, but I could find only one reference that I thought was clearly a reference to Trich behaviour. Most references were in the context of grief, torture, fashion or vanity, but Epicletus was more interesting.

In one reference, men who plucked hair for fashion/vanity reasons apparently fell into habitual behaviour,

"Indeed I think that the men who pluck out their hairs do what they do
without knowing what they do."
["The Discourses" by Epictetus (101AD), Book 3, Chapter 1]

And further on is a reference which appears to be Trich behaviour under
stress. Agamemnon was legendary, rather than historical, but presumably
the description reflects observations made in everyday life.

"But neither was Agamemnon happy, though he was a better man than
Sardanapalus and Nero; but
while others are snoring what is he doing? 'Much from his head he tore his
rooted hair.' And what does he say himself? 'I am perplexed,' he says,
'and disturbed I am,' and 'my heart out of my bosom is leaping.' "
[Book 3, Chapter 22]

I also found a wonderful description of hair pulling, prompted by grief, in
"The Life and Death of King John" by that master Wil Shakespeare. Contance
is tearing her hair in grief for her son, and those who have suffered grief
will no doubt relate to her.

Act III -- Scene IV
[in King Philip's tent.]

CONSTANCE:
I am not mad: this hair I tear is mine;
My name is Constance; I was Geffrey's wife;
Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost:
I am not mad: I would to heaven I were!
For then, 'tis like I should forget myself:
O, if I could, what grief should I forget!
[snip]

KING PHILIP:
Bind up those tresses. O, what love I note
In the fair multitude of those her hairs!
Where but by chance a silver drop [a tear] hath fallen,
Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends
Do glue themselves in sociable grief,
Like true, inseparable, faithful loves,
Sticking together in calamity.

CONSTANCE:
To England, if you will.

KING PHILIP:
Bind up your hairs.

CONSTANCE:
Yes, that I will; and wherefore will I do it?
I tore them from their bonds and cried aloud
'O that these hands could so redeem my son,
As they have given these hairs their liberty!'
But now I envy at their liberty,
And will again commit them to their bonds,
Because my poor child is a prisoner.
[snip]

KING PHILIP:
You are as fond of grief as of your child.

CONSTANCE:
Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form;
Then, have I reason to be fond of grief?
Fare you well: had you such a loss as I,
I could give better comfort than you do.
I will not keep this form upon my head,
When there is such disorder in my wit.
O Lord! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son!
My life, my joy, my food, my all the world!
My widow-comfort, and my sorrows' cure!

Geoff