A comely person, Yvette Pottier, is sewing a gaily coloured hat, a glass of brandy before her. She is in her stockinged feet, having laid aside her red high-heeled boots.
THE ARMOURER: I’ll let you have that shot for a couple of florins. It’s cheap at the price, I got to have the money because the colonel’s been boozing with his officers since two days back, and the drink’s run out.
MOTHER COURAGE: That’s troops’ munitions. They catch me with that, I’m for court-martial. You crooks flog the shot, and troops got nowt to fire at enemy.
THE ARMOURER: Have a heart, can’t you; you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours.
MOTHER COURAGE: I’m not taking army property. Not at that price.
THE ARMOURER: You can sell it on the q.t. tonight to the Fourth Regiment’s armourer for five florins, eight even, if you let him have a receipt for twelve. He’s right out of ammunition.
MOTHER COURAGE: Why not you do it?
THE ARMOURER: I don’t trust him, he’s a pal of mine.
MOTHER COURAGE takes the sack: Gimme. To Kattrin: Take it away and pay him a florin and a half. The armourer protests. I said a florin and a half. Kattrin drags the sack upstage, the armourer following her. Mother Courage addresses Swiss Cheese: Here’s your woollies, now look after them, it’s October and autumn may set in any time. I ain’t saying it’s got to, cause I’ve learned nowt’s got to come when you think it will, not even seasons of the year. But your regimental accounts got to add up right, come what may. Do they add up right?
SWISS CHEESE: Yes, mother.
MOTHER COURAGE: Don’t you forget they made you paymaster cause you was honest, not dashing like your brother, and above all so stupid I bet you ain’t even thought of clearing off with it, no not you. That’s a big consolation to me. And don’t lose those woollies.
SWISS CHEESE: No, mother, I’ll put them under my mattress. Begins to go.
THE ARMOURER: I’ll go along with you, paymaster.
MOTHER COURAGE: And don’t you start learning him none of your tricks.
The armourer leaves with Swiss Cheese without any farewell gesture.
YVETTE waving to him: No reason not to say goodbye, armourer.
MOTHER COURAGE to Yvette: I don’t like to see them together. He’s wrong company for our Swiss Cheese. Oh well, war’s off to a good start. Easily take four, five years before all countries are in. A bit of foresight, don’t do nothing silly, and business’ll flourish. Don’t you know you ain’t s’posed to drink before midday with your complaint?
YVETTE: Complaint, who says so, it’s a libel.
MOTHER COURAGE: They all say so.
YVETTE: Because they’re all telling lies, Mother Courage, and me at my wits’ end cause they’re all avoiding me like something the cat brought in thanks to those lies, what the hell am I remodelling my hat for? She throws it away. That’s why I drink before midday. Never used to, gives you crows’ feet, but now what the hell? All the Second Finnish know me. Ought to have stayed at home when my first fellow did me wrong. No good our sort being proud. Eat shit, that’s what you got to do, or down you go.
MOTHER COURAGE: Now don’t you start up again about that Pieter of yours and how it all happened, in front of my innocent daughter too.
YVETTE: She’s the one should hear it, put her off love.
MOTHER COURAGE: Nobody can put ’em off that.
YVETTE: Then I’ll go on, get if off my chest. It all starts with yours truly growing up in lovely Flanders, else I’d never of seen him and wouldn’t be stuck here now in Poland, cause he was an army cook, fair-haired, a Dutchman but thin for once. Kattrin, watch out for the thin ones, only in those days I didn’t know that, or that he’d got a girl already, or that they all called him Puffing Piet cause he never took his pipe out of his mouth when he was on the job, it meant that little to him. She sings the Song of Fraternisation:
When I was only sixteen
The foe came into our land.
He laid aside his sabre
And with a smile he took my hand.
After the May parade
The May light starts to fade.
The regiment dressed by the right
The drums were beaten, that’s the drill.
The foe took us behind the hill
And fraternised all night.
There were so many foes then
But mine worked in the mess.
I loathed him in the daytime.
At night I loved him none the less.
After the May parade
The May light starts to fade.
The regiment dressed by the right
The drums were beaten, that’s the drill.
The foe took us behind the hill
And fraternised all night.
The love which came upon me
Was wished on me by fate.
My friends could never grasp why
I found it hard to share their hate.
The fields were wet with dew
When sorrow first I knew.
The regiment dressed by the right
The drums were beaten, that’s the drill.
And then the foe, my lover still
Went marching out of sight.
I followed him, fool that I was, but I never found him, and that was five years back. She walks unsteadily behind the cart.
MOTHER COURAGE: You left your hat here.
YVETTE: Anyone wants it can have it.
MOTHER COURAGE: Let that be a lesson, Kattrin. Don’t you start anything with them soldiers. Love makes the world go round, I’m warning you. Even with fellows not in the army it’s no bed of roses. He says he’d like to kiss the ground your feet walk on – reminds me, did you wash them yesterday? – and after that you’re his skivvy. Be thankful you’re dumb, then you can’t contradict yourself and won’t be wanting to bite your tongue off for speaking the truth; it’s a godsend, being dumb is. And here comes the general’s cook, now what’s he after?
Enter the cook and the chaplain.
THE CHAPLAIN: I have a message for you from your son Eilif, and the cook has come along because you made such a profound impression on him.
THE COOK: I just came along to get a bit of air.
MOTHER COURAGE: That you can always do here if you behave yourself, and if you don’t I can deal with you. What does he want? I got no spare cash.
THE CHAPLAIN: Actually I had a message for his brother the paymaster.
MOTHER COURAGE: He ain’t here now nor anywhere else neither. He ain’t his brother’s paymaster. He’s not to lead him into temptation nor be clever at his expense. Giving him money from the purse slung round her: Give him this, it’s a sin, he’s banking on mother’s love and ought to be ashamed of himself.
THE COOK: Not for long, he’ll have to be moving off with the regiment, might be to his death. Give him a bit extra, you’ll be sorry later. You women are tough, then later on you’re sorry. A little glass of brandy wouldn’t have been a problem, but it wasn’t offered and, who knows, a bloke may lie beneath the green sod and none of you people will ever be able to dig him up again.
THE CHAPLAIN: Don’t give way to your feelings, cook. To fall in battle is a blessing, not an inconvenience, and why? It is a war of faith. None of your common wars but a special one, fought for the faith and therefore pleasing to God.
THE COOK: Very true. It’s a war all right in one sense, what with requisitioning, murder and looting and the odd bit of rape thrown in, but different from all the other wars because it’s a war of faith; stands to reason. But it’s thirsty work at that, you must admit.
THE CHAPLAIN to Mother Courage, indicating the cook: I tried to stop him, but he says he’s taken a shine to you, you figure in his dreams.
THE COOK lighting a stumpy pipe: Just want a glass of brandy from a fair hand, what harm in that? Only I’m groggy already cause the chaplain here’s been telling such jokes all the way along you bet I’m still blushing.
MOTHER COURAGE: Him a clergyman to
o. I’d best give the pair of you a drink or you’ll start making me immoral suggestions cause you’ve nowt else to do.
THE CHAPLAIN: Behold a temptation, said the court preacher, and fell. Turning back to look at Kattrin as he leaves: And who is this entrancing young person?
MOTHER COURAGE: That ain’t an entrancing but a decent young person. The chaplain and the cook go behind the cart with Mother Courage. Kattrin looks after them, then walks away from her washing towards the hat. She picks it up and sits down, pulling the red boots towards her. Mother Courage can be heard in the background talking politics with the chaplain and the cook.
MOTHER COURAGE: Those Poles here in Poland had no business sticking their noses in. Right, our king moved in on them, horse and foot, but did they keep the peace? no, went and stuck their noses into their own affairs, they did, and fell on king just as he was quietly clearing off. They committed a breach of peace, that’s what, so blood’s on their own head.
THE CHAPLAIN: All our king minded about was freedom. The emperor had made slaves of them all, Poles and Germans alike, and the king had to liberate them.
THE COOK: Just what I say, your brandy’s first rate, I weren’t mistaken in your face, but talk of the king, it cost the king dear trying to give freedom to Germany, what with giving Sweden the salt tax, what cost the poor folk a bit, so I’ve heard, on top of which he had to have the Germans locked up and drawn and quartered cause they wanted to carry on slaving for the emperor. Course the king took a serious view when anybody didn’t want to be free. He set out by just trying to protect Poland against bad people, particularly the emperor, then it started to become a habit till he ended up protecting the whole of Germany. They didn’t half kick. So the poor old king’s had nowt but trouble for all his kindness and expenses, and that’s something he had to make up for by taxes of course, which caused bad blood, not that he’d let a little matter like that depress him. One thing he had on his side, God’s word, that was a help. Because otherwise folk would of been saying he done it all for himself and to make a bit on the side. So he’s always had a good conscience, which was the main point.
MOTHER COURAGE: Anyone can see you’re no Swede or you wouldn’t be talking that way about the Hero King.
THE CHAPLAIN: After all he provides the bread you eat.
THE COOK: I don’t eat it, I bake it.
MOTHER COURAGE: They’ll never beat him, and why, his men got faith in him. Seriously: To go by what the big shots say, they’re waging war for almighty God and in the name of everything that’s good and lovely. But look closer, they ain’t so silly, they’re waging it for what they can get. Else little folk like me wouldn’t be in it at all.
THE COOK: That’s the way it is.
THE CHAPLAIN: As a Dutchman you’d do better to glance at the flag above your head before venting your opinions here in Poland.
MOTHER COURAGE: All good Lutherans here. Prosit!
Kattrin has put on Yvette’s hat and begun strutting around in imitation of her way of walking.
Suddenly there is a noise of cannon fire and shooting. Drums. Mother Courage, the cook and the chaplain rush out from behind the cart, the two last-named still carrying their glasses. The armourer and another soldier run up to the cannon and try to push it away.
MOTHER COURAGE: What’s happening? Wait till I’ve taken my washing down, you louts! She tries to rescue her washing.
THE ARMOURER: The Catholics! Broken through. Don’t know if we’ll get out of here. To the soldier: Get that gun shifted!
Runs on.
THE COOK: God, I must find the general. I’ll drop by in a day or two for another talk.
MOTHER COURAGE: Wait, you forgot your pipe.
THE COOK in the distance: Keep it for me. I’ll be needing it.
MOTHER COURAGE: Would happen just as we’re making a bit of money.
THE CHAPLAIN: Ah well, I’ll be going too. Indeed, if the enemy is so close as that it might be dangerous. Blessed are the peacemakers is the motto in wartime. If only I had a cloak to cover me.
MOTHER COURAGE: I ain’t lending no cloaks, not on your life. I been had too often.
THE CHAPLAIN: But my faith makes it particularly dangerous for me.
MOTHER COURAGE gets him a cloak: Goes against my conscience, this does. Now you run along.
THE CHAPLAIN: Thank you, dear lady, that’s very generous of you, but I think it might be wiser for me to remain seated here; it could arouse suspicion and bring the enemy down on me if I were seen to run.
MOTHER COURAGE to the soldier: Leave it, you fool, who’s going to pay you for that! I’ll look after it for you, you’re risking your neck.
THE SOLDIER running away: You can tell ’em I tried.
MOTHER COURAGE: Cross my heart. Sees her daughter with the hat. What you doing with that strumpet’s hat? Take that lid off, you gone crazy? And the enemy arriving any minute! Pulls the hat off Kattrin’s head. Want ’em to pick you up and make a prostitute of you? And she’s gone and put those boots on, whore of Babylon! Off with those boots! Tries to tug them off her. Jesus Christ, chaplain, gimme a hand, get those boots off her, I’ll be right back. Runs to the cart.
YVETTE arrives, powdering her face: Fancy that, the Catholics are coming. Where’s my hat? Who’s been kicking it around? I can’t go about looking like this if the Catholics are coming. What’ll they think of me? No mirror either. To the chaplain: How do I look? Too much powder?
THE CHAPLAIN: Exactly right.
YVETTE: And where are them red boots? Fails to find them as Kattrin hides her feet under her skirt. I left them here all right. Now I’ll have to get to me tent barefoot. It’s an outrage. Exit.
Swiss Cheese runs in carrying a small box.
MOTHER COURAGE arrives with her hands full of ashes. To Kattrin: Here some ashes. To Swiss Cheese: What’s that you’re carrying?
SWISS CHEESE: Regimental cash box.
MOTHER COURAGE: Chuck it away. No more paymastering for you.
SWISS CHEESE: I’m responsible. He goes to the rear.
MOTHER COURAGE to the chaplain: Take your clerical togs off, padre, or they’ll spot you under that cloak. She rubs Kattrin s face with ash. Keep still, will you? There you are, a bit of muck and you’ll be safe. What a disaster. Sentries were drunk. Hide your light under a bushel, it says. Take a soldier, specially a Catholic one, add a clean face, and there’s your instant whore. For weeks they get nowt to eat, then soon as they manage to get it by looting they’re falling on anything in skirts. That ought to do. Let’s have a look. Not bad. Looks like you been grubbing in muckheap. Stop trembling. Nothing’ll happen to you like that. To Swiss Cheese: Where d’you leave cash box?
SWISS CHEESE: Thought I’d put it in cart.
MOTHER COURAGE horrified: What, my cart? Sheer criminal idiocy. Only take me eyes off you one instant. Hang us all three, they will.
SWISS CHEESE: I’ll put it somewhere else then, or clear out with it.
MOTHER COURAGE: You sit on it, it’s too iate now.
THE CHAPLAIN who is changing his clothes downstage: For heaven’s sake, the flag!
MOTHER COURAGE hauls down the regimental flag: Bozhe moi! I’d given up noticing it were there. Twenty-five years I’ve had it.
The thunder of cannon intensifies.
A morning three days later. The cannon has gone. Mother Courage, Kattrin, the chaplain and Swiss Cheese are sitting gloomily over a meal.
SWISS CHEESE: That’s three days I been sitting around with nowt to do, and sergeant’s always been kind to me but any moment now he’ll start asking where’s Swiss Cheese with the pay box?
MOTHER COURAGE: You thank your stars they ain’t after you.
THE CHAPLAIN: What can I say? I can’t even hold a service here, it might make trouble for me. Whosoever hath a full heart, his tongue runneth over, it says, but heaven help me if mine starts running over.
MOTHER COURAGE: That’s how it goes. Here they sit, one with his faith and the other with his cash box. Dunno w
hich is more dangerous.
THE CHAPLAIN: We are all of us in God’s hands.
MOTHER COURAGE: Oh, I don’t think it’s as bad as that yet, though I must say I can’t sleep nights. If it weren’t for you, Swiss Cheese, things’d be easier. I think I got meself cleared. I told ’em I didn’t hold with Antichrist, the Swedish one with horns on, and I’d observed left horn was a bit unserviceable. Half way through their interrogation I asked where I could get church candles not too dear. I knows the lingo cause Swiss Cheese’s dad were Catholic, often used to make jokes about it, he did. They didn’t believe rne all that much, but they ain’t got no regimental canteen lady. So they’re winking an eye. Could turn out for the best, you know. We’re prisoners, but same like fleas on dog.
THE CHAPLAIN: That’s good milk. But we’ll need to cut down our Swedish appetites a bit. After all, we’ve been defeated.
MOTHER COURAGE: Who’s been defeated? Look, victory and defeat ain’t bound to be same for the big shots up top as for them below, not by no means. Can be times the bottom lot find a defeat really pays them. Honour’s lost, nowt else. I remember once up in Livonia our general took such a beating from enemy I got a horse off our baggage train in the confusion, pulled me cart seven months, he did, before we won and they checked up. As a rule you can say victory and defeat both come expensive to us ordinary folk. Best thing for us is when politics get bogged down solid. To Swiss Cheese: Eat up.
SWISS CHEESE: Got no appetite for it. What’s sergeant to do when pay day comes round?
MOTHER COURAGE: They don’t have pay days on a retreat.
SWISS CHEESE: It’s their right, though. They needn’t retreat if they don’t get paid. Needn’t stir a foot.
MOTHER COURAGE: Swiss Cheese, you’re that conscientious it makes me quite nervous. I brought you up to be honest, you not being clever, but you got to know where to stop. Chaplain and me, we’re off now to buy Catholic flag and some meat. Dunno anyone so good at sniffing meat, like sleepwalking it is, straight to target. I’d say he can pick out a good piece by the way his mouth starts watering. Well, thank goodness they’re letting me go on trading. You don’t ask tradespeople their faith but their prices. And Lutheran trousers keep cold out too.