G.B.S. to E.T.

[This is the 'answer, which is missing' to Ellen Terry's appeal to Shaw to get her minor work, alluded to in the note to her reply, Letter ccciii. It should be read in conjunction with page xlv of the Preface, which appears to be a confused recollection of the episode on his side.]

9th Nov. 1913

Dearest Ellen

You fill me with concern—with dismay. What am I to
do or say? It's as if Queen Alexandra came to me and asked
me to get her a place as cook-housekeeper, except that I'm
not in love with Queen Alexandra. Nobody dare have you
in a cast: youd knock it all to pieces. A tiny yacht may
throw its mast overboard and end its days quietly and
serviceably as a ferry boat; but a battleship cant do that; and
you are a battleship. What parts are there that even the most
callous youngster who never saw you could offer you in the
ordinary routine of theatrical commerce? Matrons at £15
a week or less. And then the agony of learning a part, and
being hustled by a producer, and finally overwhelming
everyone on the stage by dwarfing them and mopping up
every scrap of interest and attention in the house! Can you
wonder that we all recoil, and say "She would be splendid
in it"; and then get some estimable mouse who would give
no trouble and spread no terror?

Ellen, Ellen, what has become of all the jubilee money?—
for you *must* be in difficulties or you would never be content
with minor work. You are not wildly extravagant: you
dont keep two motor cars and wallow in sables and dia-
dmonds. Do you give it all away; or has Teddy a family in
every European capital for you to support? Not my busi-
ness, isn't it? Then dont harrow my feelings by telling me
that you *must* get engagements instantly. Must we all

sink with 50 starving parasites clutching our hair? I have
three letters just received from unfortunate people, pitiable
people, nice people, whose only refuge is being adopted by
me. I *must* turn savage and thrust them from my plank into
the waves or I shall presently be as desperate as they are.
So must you.

Well, this isn't very consoling, damn me.

If I were you, I should take the Margate theatre, and set
up a school. Teddy's ambition is to be the successor of
Sarah Thorne; but as you gave him your forehead without
your chin he will never do it: he will only talk and write
beautifully about it, and produce nothing but pretty children
with stomachs to fill and backs to clothe. You will have to
set up the school yourself as you have had to do everything
else; and then you can give him parts to play at thirty
shillings a week and use up the children for the pantomime.

And James? What's James doing?

Ellen: what a world!

Oh, why cant I write a letter that will make you forget
your troubles, instead of rubbing them in?

Oh Lord!

Let us tie ourselves together—close—and give some
respectable boatman our last shilling to row us out and
drop us into the sea.

G.B.S.