'Somebody says to some folk, we're to blame;
That 'tis a scandal and a burning shame
To thole young callants thus to grow sae snack,
And learn—O mighty crimes!—to speak and act!
But let them talk. In spite of ilk endeavour,
We'll cherish wit, and scorn their fead or favour.'
In 1722 he wrote an epilogue, to be spoken after the acting of 'The Drummer'; in 1726 a prologue, to be addressed to the audience by the famous Tony Aston on the first night of his appearance; in 1727 a prologue, to be delivered before the acting of 'Aurenzebe,' at Haddington School; and finally, an epilogue, recited after the performance of 'The Orphan' and 'The Gentle Shepherd,' in January 1729. All these, and probably others that have not been preserved, evince that Ramsay cherished a warm affection for the drama, with an earnest desire to see his fellow-countrymen profit by it. After the indignant remonstrance—
'Shall London have its houses twa,
And we be doomed to nane ava?
Is our metropolis ance the place
Where lang-syne dwelt the royal race
Of Fergus, this gait dwindled doun
To the level o' a clachan toun?
While thus she suffers the desertion
Of a maist rational diversion,'
he commenced to erect, in 1736, a playhouse in Carrubber's Close. In his advertisement in the Caledonian Mercury, announcing the prospective opening, he states, he had built the house 'at vast expense,' in order that, during the winter nights, the citizens might enjoy themselves in hearing, performed by competent actors, dramas that would amuse, instruct, and elevate.
His advertisement, in the issue of the Mercury for September 15, 1736, reads:—
'The new theatre in Carrubber's Close being in great forwardness, will be opened on the 1st of November. These are to advertise the ladies and gentlemen who incline to purchase annual tickets, to enter their names before the 20th of October next, on which day they shall receive their tickets from Allan Ramsay, on paying 30s., no more than forty to be subscribed for; after which none will be disposed of under two guineas.'
Meantime the clerical party and the enemies of Ramsay had joined hands in common opposition to his plans. 'Hardly had he begun operations' (writes Professor Masson) 'when there came the extraordinary statute of 10 Geo. II. (1737), regulating theatres for the future all over Great Britain. As by this statute, there could be no performance of stage plays out of London and Westminster, save when the king chanced to be residing in some other town, Ramsay's speculation collapsed.' In fact, the municipal authorities, at the instigation of the clergy, employed the force of the statute peremptorily to close his theatre. In vain he appealed to law. 'He only received a quibble for his pains. He was injured without being damaged,' said the lawyers. In vain he appealed in a poetical epistle, to President Duncan Forbes of the Court of Session, wherein he says—
'Is there aught better than the stage
To mend the follies o' the age,
If managed as it ought to be,
Frae ilka vice and blaidry free?
Wherefore, my Lords, I humbly pray
Our lads may be allowed to play,
At least till new-house debts be paid off,
The cause that I'm the maist afraid of;
Which lade lyes on my single back,
And I maun pay it ilka plack.'
Well might the good-hearted, honourable-minded poet dread the future. The responsibility lay upon him alone for the expense of the building, and from many intimations he let drop the failure of the speculation well-nigh ruined him. But the increasing sale of his books, and the expanding prosperity of his business, soon recouped his outlay. That he was much depressed by his losses, heavy and unexpected as they were, is evident from a private letter he wrote at this time to the President, and which is still preserved at Culloden House. 'Will you,' he writes, 'give me something to do? Here I pass a sort of half-idle, scrimp life, tending a trifling trade that scarce affords me the needful. Had I not got a parcel of guineas from you, and such as you, who were pleased to patronise my subscriptions, I should not have had a gray groat. I think shame—but why should I, when I open my mind to one of your goodness?—to hint that I want to have some small commission, when it happens to fall in your way to put me into it.'
Not without an element of pathos is the scene that is here presented, of him, who had done so much to amuse and elevate his fellows, being compelled to make such a request. Satisfactory is it, however, to know that, though the poetical epistle 'to the Lords' was fruitless of practical benefit in the way he desired, albeit exciting for him the warmest sympathy among the worthy senators of the College of Justice, there is reason to believe the President was able to throw 'some small commission' in Ramsay's way, and thus, by his opportune generosity, to dispel the thunderclouds of misfortune hurrying hard upon the poet's steps.