Mother Courage and Her Children

by Bertolt Brecht

  OTHER COURAGE. He’s been doing the dishes and helping me with the wagon.

  COOK. And telling you a few of his jokes? He has a most unhealthy attitude to women. He’s completely unsound.

  MOTHER COURAGE. And you’re completely sound?

  COOK. And I am completely sound. Your health!

  MOTHER COURAGE. Sound! Only one person around here was ever sound, and I never had to slave as I did then. He sold the blankets off the children’s beds in autumn. You aren’t recommending yourself to me if you claim to be sound.

  COOK. Ah well, here we sit, drinking your famous brandy while the bells of peace do ring!

  MOTHER COURAGE. I don’t see where they’re going to find all this pay that’s in arrears. Were you people paid?

  COOK. (hesitating) Not exactly. That’s why we disbanded. Why stay? I said to myself. Why not look up a couple of friends? So here I am.

  MOTHER COURAGE. In other words: you’re broke.

  COOK. (annoyed by the bells) I wish they’d stop that racket! I’d like to set myself up in some business.

  (The CHAPLAIN enters in his pastor’s coat again.)

  CHAPLAIN. Pretty good, eh? Just a few moth holes.

  COOK. I have a bone to pick with you. You advised a lady to buy superfluous goods on the pretext that the war would never end.

  CHAPLAIN. And what business is that of yours?

  COOK. It’s unprincipled behavior! How dare you interfere with the conduct of other people’s businesses?

  CHAPLAIN. Who’s interfering now, I’d like to know? (to MOTHER COURAGE:) I was far from suspecting you had to account to this gentleman for everything!

  MOTHER COURAGE. Now don’t get excited. The cook’s giving his personal opinion. You can hardly deny your war was a flop.

  CHAPLAIN. You are a hyena of the battlefield! You are taking the name of peace in vain!

  MOTHER COURAGE. I’m a what, did you say?

  CHAPLAIN. A hyena!

  COOK. Who insults my girl friend, insults me!

  CHAPLAIN. Your intentions are only too transparent! (to MOTHER COURAGE:) But when I see you take peace between finger and thumb like a snotty old handkerchief, the humanity in me rebels! You want war, do you? Well, don’t you forget the proverb: who sups with the devil must use a long spoon!

  MOTHER COURAGE. Remember what one fox said to another that was caught in a trap? “If you stay there, you’re just asking for trouble.” I’m not in love with war, Mr. Army Chaplain, and when it comes to calling people hyenas, you and I part company!

  CHAPLAIN. Then why all this grumbling about the peace? Is it just for the junk in your wagon?

  MOTHER COURAGE. My goods are not junk. I live off them.

  CHAPLAIN. You live off war. Exactly!

  COOK. As a grown man, you should know better than to run around advising people. (to MOTHER COURAGE:) In your situation you should get rid of certain goods at once – before prices sink to zero.

  MOTHER COURAGE. That’s good advice. I think I’ll take it. (She climbs on to her wagon.)

  COOK. One up for me. Anyway, Chaplain, cockfights are unbecoming to your cloth!

  CHAPLAIN. If you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll murder you, cloth or no cloth!

  (Enter YVETTE, wearing black, leaning on a stick. She is much older, fatter, and heavily powdered. Behind her, a VALET.)

  YVETTE. Hullo everybody! Is this the Mother Courage establishment?

  CHAPLAIN. Quite right. And with whom have we the pleasure ?

  YVETTE. I am Madam Colonel Starhemberg, good people. Where’s Mother Courage?

  CHAPLAIN. (calling to the wagon) Madam Colonel Starhemberg to speak with you!

  MOTHER COURAGE. Coming!

  YVETTE. (calling) It’s me – Yvette!

  MOTHER COURAGE. Yvette!

  YVETTE. I’ve come to see how you’re getting on! (The COOK turns round in horror.) Peter!

  COOK. Yvette!

  YVETTE. Of all things. How did you get here?

  COOK. On a cart.

  CHAPLAIN. Well! You know each other? Intimately?

  YVETTE. I’ll say! You’re fat.

  COOK. For that matter, you’re no beanpole.

  YVETTE. It’s good we’ve met. Now I can tell you what I think of you, tramp.

  CHAPLAIN. DO that. Tell him exactly what you think of him. But wait until Mother Courage comes out.

  COOK. Now don’t make a scene.

  (MOTHER COURAGE comes out, laden with goods.)

  MOTHER COURAGE. Yvette! (They embrace.) But why are you in mourning?

  YVETTE. Doesn’t it suit me? My husband, the colonel, died several years ago.

  MOTHER COURAGE. The old fellow that nearly bought my wagon?

  YVETTE. Nah, not him. His older brother.

  MOTHER COURAGE. Good to see one person that got somewhere in this war.

  CHAPLAIN. You promised to give us your opinion of this gentleman.

  COOK. Now, Yvette, don’t make a stink!

  MOTHER COURAGE. He’s a friend of mine, Yvette.

  YVETTE. He’s Peter Piper, that’s what.

  COOK. Cut the nicknames!

  MOTHER COURAGE. Peter Piper? The one that turned the girls’ heads? I’ll have to sit down. And I’ve been keeping your pipe for you.

  CHAPLAIN. And smoking it.

  YVETTE. Lucky I can warn you against him. He’s a bad lot. You won’t find a worse on the whole coast of Flanders. He got more girls in trouble than…

  COOK. That’s a long time ago. It’s not true any more.

  YVETTE. Stand up when you talk to a lady! How I loved that man, and all the time he was having a little bowlegged brunette. He got her in trouble, too, of course.

  COOK. I seem to have brought you luck.

  YVETTE. Speak when you’re spoken to, you hoary ruin! And take care, Mother Courage, this type is dangerous even in decay!

  MOTHER COURAGE. (to YVETTE) Come with me. I must get rid of this stuff before the prices fall.

  YVETTE. (to COOK) Miserable cur!

  MOTHER COURAGE. Maybe you can help me at army headquarters – with your contacts.

  YVETTE. Damnable whore hunter!

  MOTHER COURAGE. Kattrin, church is all off, I’m going to market!

  YVETTE. Inveterate seducer!

  MOTHER COURAGE. (still to KATTRIN) When Eilif comes, give him something to drink!

  YVETTE. I’ve put an end to your tricks, Peter Piper, and one day, in a better life than this, the Lord God will reward me! (She sniffs.) Come, Mother Courage!

  (The two leave. Pause.)

  CHAPLAIN. As our text this morning, let us take the saying: the mills of God grind slowly. And you complain of my jokes!

  COOK. I’ll be frank with you. I was hoping for a good hot dinner. And now she’ll be getting a wrong picture of me. I think I should leave before she comes back.

  CHAPLAIN. I think so too.

  COOK. Chaplain, peace makes me sick! It’s the lot of mankind to perish by fire and sword! Oh, how I wish I was roasting a great fat capon for the Commander – with mustard sauce and those little yellow carrots…

  CHAPLAIN. Red cabbage. With capon: red cabbage.

  COOK. You’re right. But he always wanted yellow carrots.

  CHAPLAIN. He never understood anything.

  COOK. You always put plenty away.

  CHAPLAIN. Under protest.

  COOK. Anyway, you must admit, those were the days.

  CHAPLAIN. Yes, that I might admit.

  COOK. And now you’ve called her a hyena, you haven’t much future here either…What are you staring at?

  CHAPLAIN. Why, it’s Eilif!

  (EILIF enters followed by two soldiers with halberds. His hands are fettered. He is white as chalk.)

  What happened?

  EILIF. Where’s my mother?

  CHAPLAIN. Gone to the town.

  EILIF. They said she was here. I was allowed a last visit.

  COOK. (to the soldiers) Where are you taking him?

  SOLD
IER. For a ride.

  (The OTHER SOLDIER makes the gesture of throat cutting. )

  CHAPLAIN. What has he done?

  SOLDIER. He broke in on a peasant. The wife is dead.

  CHAPLAIN. Eilif, how could you?

  EILIF. It’s no different. It’s what I did before.

  COOK. That was in wartime.

  EILIF. Shut your mouth. Can I sit down till she comes?

  SOLDIER. No.

  CHAPLAIN. It’s true. In wartime they honored him for it. He sat at the Commander’s right hand. It was bravery. Couldn’t we speak with the provost?

  SOLDIER. What’s the use? Stealing cattle from a peasant, what’s brave about that?

  COOK. It was just dumb.

  EILIF. If I’d been dumb, I’d have starved, smarty.

  COOK. So you were bright – and paid for it.

  CHAPLAIN. We must bring Kattrin out.

  EILIF. Let her alone. Just give me some brandy.

  SOLDIER. No.

  CHAPLAIN. What shall we tell your mother?

  EILIF. Tell her it was no different. Tell her it was the same. Aw, tell her nothing.

  (The soldiers lead him away.)

  CHAPLAIN. I’ll come with you!

  EILIF. I don’t need any priest.

  CHAPLAIN. You don’t know – yet.

  COOK. I’ll have to tell her, she’ll expect to see him.

  CHAPLAIN. Tell her he’ll be back.

  (He leaves. The COOK shakes his head, finally approaches the wagon.)

  COOK. Hi! Won’t you come out? I’m the cook! Have you got anything to eat in there? (He looks in.) She’s got a blanket over her head.

  (Cannon. Re-enter MOTHER COURAGE, breathless, still carrying her goods. )

  MOTHER COURAGE. The peace is over! The war’s on again – has been for three days! I didn’t get rid of this stuff after all, thank God! The shooting has started in the town already. We must get away. Pack, Kattrin! What’s on your mind?

  COOK. Nothing.

  MOTHER COURAGE. But there is. I see it in your face.

  COOK. Eilif was here. Only he had to go away again.

  MOTHER COURAGE. He was here? Then we’ll see him on the march. I’ll be with our side this time. How’d he look?

  COOK. The same.

  MOTHER COURAGE. He’ll never change. And the war won’t get him, he’s bright. Help me with the packing. (She starts it.) Is Ellif in good with the captain? Did he tell you about his heroic deeds?

  COOK. He’s done one of them over again.

  MOTHER COURAGE. Tell me about it later. (KATTRIN appears.) Kattrin, the peace is over. We’re on the move again. (to the COOK) : What is eating you?

  COOK. I’ll enlist.

  MOTHER COURAGE. Where’s the Chaplain?

  COOK. In the town. With Eilif.

  MOTHER COURAGE. Stay with us a while, Cook, I need a bit of help.

  COOK. This Yvette matter…

  MOTHER COURAGE. Hasn’t done you any harm in my eyes. Just the opposite. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. You’ll come?

  COOK. I may as well.

  MOTHER COURAGE. The twelfth regiment is under way.

  (The COOK gets into harness with KATTRIN.)

  Maybe I’ll see Eilif before the day is out! Let’s go!

  (She sings, and the COOK joins in the refrain, The Song of Mother Courage.)

  MOTHER COURAGE.

  UP HILL, DOWN DALE, PAST DOME AND STEEPLE,

  MY WAGON ALWAYS MOVES AHEAD.

  THE WAR CAN CARE FOR ALL ITS PEOPLE

  SO LONG AS THERE IS STEEL AND LEAD.

  THOUGH STEEL AND LEAD ARE STOUT SUPPORTERS

  A WAR NEEDS HUMAN BEINGS TOO.

  REPORT TODAY TO YOUR HEADQUARTERS!

  IF IT’S TO LAST, THIS WAR NEEDS YOU!

  CHRISTIANS, AWAKE! THE WINTER’S GONE!

  THE SNOW DEPARTS, THE DEAD SLEEP ON.

  AND THOUGH YOU MAY NOT LONG SURVIVE

  GET OUT OF BED AND LOOK ALIVE!

  9.

  (The religious war has lasted sixteen years, and Germany has lost half its inhabitants. Those who are spared in battle die by plague. Over once-blooming countryside hunger rages. Towns are burned down. Wolves prowl the empty streets. In the autumn of 1634 we find MOTHER COURAGE in the Fichtelgebirge not far from the road the Swedish army is taking. Winter has come early and is severe. Business is bad. Only begging remains. The cook receives a letter from Utrecht and is sent packing.)

  (In front of a half-ruined parsonage. Early winter. A grey morning. Gusts of wind. MOTHER COURAGE and the COOK at the wagon in rags.)

  COOK. There are no lights. No one is up.

  MOTHER COURAGE. But it’s a parsonage. The parson’ll have to leave his feather bed to go ring the bells. Then he’ll have himself some hot soup.

  COOK. Where’ll he find it? The whole village is starving.

  MOTHER COURAGE. Why don’t we sing him something?

  COOK. Anna, I’ve had enough. A letter came from Utrecht, did I tell you? My mother died of cholera. The inn is mine. Look! (He hands her the letter. She glances through it.)

  MOTHER COURAGE. I’m tired of this wandering life. I feel like a butcher’s dog, taking meat to the customers and getting none for myself.

  COOK. The world’s coming to an end.

  MOTHER COURAGE. Sometimes I dream of driving through hell with this wagon – and selling brimstone. Or I see myself driving through heaven handing out supplies to wandering souls! If only we could find a place where there’s no shooting, me and my children – what’s left of ’em – we might rest up a while.

  COOK. Why don’t we open this inn together? With you or without you, I’m leaving for Utrecht today. Think it over.

  MOTHER COURAGE. I must tell Kattrin. Kattrin! (KATTRIN comes out of the wagon.) Listen. We’re thinking of going to Utrecht, the cook and me. His mother’s left him an inn. We’d be sure of our dinner. And you’d have a bed of your own. What about it?

  COOK. Anna, I must speak to you alone.

  MOTHER COURAGE. Go back in, Kattrin.

  (KATTRIN does so. )

  COOK. There’s a misunderstanding. I hoped I wouldn’t have to come right out with it – but if you’re bringing her, it’s all off.

  (KATTRIN is listening – her head sticking out at the back of the wagon.)

  MOTHER COURAGE. You want me to leave Kattrin behind?

  COOK. There’s no room. The inn isn’t a place with three counters. If the two of us stand on our hind legs we can earn a living, but three’s too many. Let Kattrin keep your wagon.

  MOTHER COURAGE. I was thinking she might find a husband in Utrecht.

  COOK. At her age? With that scar?

  MOTHER COURAGE. Not so loud!

  COOK. The customers wouldn’t like it!

  MOTHER COURAGE. Not so loud, I said!

  COOK. There’s a light in the parsonage. We’d better sing. Worthy Master Parson, and all within, we shall now sing the song of Solomon, Holy Saint Martin, and other good men who came to a bad end, so you can see we’re good folk too, and have a hard time getting by, especially in winter.

  (He sings. MOTHER COURAGE joins him in the refrains.)

  Song -- THE SONG OF THE WISE AND GOOD

  YOU’VE HEARD OF WISE OLD SOLOMON

  YOU KNOW HIS HISTORY.

  HE THOUGHT SO LITTLE OF THIS EARTH

  HE CURSED THE HOUR OF HIS BIRTH

  DECLARING. ALL IS VANITY.

  HOW VERY WISE WAS SOLOMON!

  BUT ERE NIGHT CAME AND DAY DID GO

  THIS FACT WAS CLEAR TO EVERYONE:

  IT WAS HIS WISDOM THAT HAD BROUGHT HIM LOW.

  (BETTER FOR YOU IF YOU HAVE NONE. )

  For the virtues are dangerous in this world, you’re better off without, you have a nice life – some good hot soup included. We’re told to be unselfish and share what we have, but what if we have nothing? Unselfishness is a very rare virtue, it simply doesn’t pay.

  UNSELFISH MARTIN COULD NOT BEAR

  HIS FE
LLOW CREATURES’ WOES.

  HE MET A BEGGAR IN THE SNOWS

  AND GAVE HIM HALF HIS CLOAK TO WEAR:

  SO BOTH OF THEM FELL DOWN AND FROZE.

  WHAT AN UNSELFISH PARAGON!

  BUT ERE NIGHT CAME AND DAY DID GO

  THIS FACT WAS CLEAR TO EVERYONE:

  IT WAS UNSELFISHNESS THAT BROUGHT HIM LOW.

  (BETTER FOR YOU IF YOU HAVE NONE. )

  That’s how it is! We’re good, we don’t steal, we don’t kill, we don’t burn the house down, and so, as the song says, we sink lower and lower and there isn’t a plate of soup going.

  GOD’S TEN COMMANDMENTS WE HAVE KEPT

  AND ACTED AS WE SHOULD.

  IT HAS NOT DONE US ANY GOOD.

  O YOU WHO SIT BESIDE A FIRE

  PLEASE HELP US NOW, OUR NEED IS DIRE!

  STRICT GODLINESS WE’VE ALWAYS SHOWN.

  BUT ERE NIGHT CAME AND DAY DID GO

  THIS FACT WAS CLEAR TO EVERYONE:

  IT WAS OUR GODLINESS THAT BROUGHT US LOW.

  (BETTER FOR YOU IF YOU HAVE NONE. )

  VOICE. (from above) You there! Come up! There’s some hot soup for you!

  MOTHER COURAGE. I couldn’t swallow a thing. Was that your last word?

  COOK. The inn isn’t big enough. We better go up. MOTHER COURAGE. I’ll get Kattrin.

  COOK. If there are three of us the parson won’t like it. Stick something in your pocket for her.

  (The COOK and MOTHER COURAGE enter the parsonage. KATTRIN climbs out of the wagon with a bundle. Making sure the others have gone, she lays out on a wagon wheel a skirt of her mother’s and a pair of the COOK’s pants. She has just finished, and picked her bundle up, when MOTHER COURAGE comes down with soup for her.)

  MOTHER COURAGE. Kattrin! Where do you think you’re going? (She examines the bundle.) Ah! So you were listening ? I told him: nothing doing – he can have his lousy inn. (Now she sees the skirt and pants.) Oh, you stupid girl! Now what if I’d seen that, and you’d been gone! (KATTRIN tries to leave. Her mother holds her.) And don’t imagine I sent him packing on your account. It was the wagon. They can’t part me from my wagon. Now we’ll put the cook’s things here where he’ll find ’em, that silly man. You and I are leaving. (She climbs upon the wagon and throws the rest of the COOK’s few things down on to the pants.) There! He’s fired! The last man I’ll ever take into this business! Get into harness, Kattrin. This winter will pass like all the others.