My shirts! My officer’s shirts!
(From the house, the cry of a child in pain.)
PEASANT. The child’s still in the house.
(KATTRIN runs into the house.)
MOTHER COURAGE. Hey, grab Kattrin, the roof may fall in!
CHAPLAIN. I’m not going back in there.
MOTHER COURAGE. My officer’s shirts, half a guilder apiece. I’m ruined!
(KATTRIN comes out with a baby in her arms. To her.)
Never happy till you’re dragging babies around! Give it to its mother at once!
(KATTRIN is humming a lullaby to the child.)
CHAPLAIN. (bandaging) The blood comes through.
MOTHER COURAGE. And, in all this, she’s happy as a lark! Stop that music! I don’t need music to tell me what victory’s like.
(The FIRST SOLDIER tries to make off with the bottle he’s been drinking from.)
Come back, you! If you want another victory, you’ll have to pay for it.
FIRST SOLDIER. But I’m broke.
(MOTHER COURAGE tears the fur coat off his back.)
MOTHER COURAGE. Then leave this. It’s stolen goods anyhow.
(KATTRIN rocks the child and raises it high above her head.)
6.
(The Catholic General Tilly is killed before the city of Ingolstadt and is buried in state. MOTHER COURAGE gives her views of heroes, and the Chaplain sings a song about the duration of the war. Kattrin gets the red boots at last. The year is 1632. )
(The interior of a canteen tent. The inside part of the counter is seen at the rear. Funeral march in the distance. The CHAPLAIN and the REGIMENTAL CLERK are playing checkers. MOTHER COURAGE and KATTRIN are taking inventory.)
CHAPLAIN. The funeral procession is just starting out.
MOTHER COURAGE. Pity about the Chief – twenty-two. pairs, socks – getting killed that way. They say it was an accident. There was a fog over the fields that morning, and the fog was to blame. He’d been telling his men to fight to the death, and was just riding back to safety when he lost his way in the fog, went forward instead of back, found himself in the thick of the battle and ran right smack into a bullet. (A whistle from the counter. She goes over to attend to a soldier.) It’s a disgrace – the way you’re all skipping your Commander’s funeral.
REGIMENTAL CLERK. They shouldn’t have handed out the money before the funeral. Now the men are getting drunk instead of going to it.
CHAPLAIN. (to the REGIMENTAL CLERK) Don’t you have to be there?
REGIMENTAL CLERK. I stayed away because of the rain.
MOTHER COURAGE. It’s different for you. The rain might spoil your uniform.
(ANOTHER SOLDIER comes to the counter. He sings:)
Song -- BATTLE HYMN
ONE SCHNAPPS, MINE HOST, BE QUICK, MAKE HASTE!
A SOLDIER’S GOT NO TIME TO WASTE:
HE MUST BE SHOOTING, SHOOTING, SHOOTING,
HIS KAISER’S ENEMIES UPROOTING!
SOLDIER. A brandy.
TWO BREASTS, MY GIRL, BE QUICK, MAKE HASTE,
A SOLDIER’S GOT NO TIME TO WASTE:
HE MUST BE HATING, HATING, HATING,
HE CANNOT KEEP HIS KAISER WAITING!
SOLDIER. Make it a double, this is a holiday.
MOTHER COURAGE. Money first. No, you can’t come inside, not with those boots on. Only officers are allowed in here, rain or no rain.
CHAPLAIN. (as the funeral music resumes) Now they’re filing past the body.
MOTHER COURAGE. I feel sorry for a commander like that – when maybe he had something big in mind, something they’d talk about in times to come, something they’d raise a statue to him for, the conquest of the whole world, for example – Lord, the worms have got into these biscuits! – he works his hands to the bone and then the common riffraff don’t support him because all they care about is a jug of beer or a bit of company. Am I right?
CHAPLAIN. You’re right, Mother Courage. Till you come to the riffraff. You underestimate them. Take those fellows outside right now, drinking their brandy in the rain, why, they’d fight for a hundred years, one war after another – if necessary, two at a time.
MOTHER COURAGE. Seventeen leather belts. – Then you don’t think the war might end?
CHAPLAIN. Because a commander’s dead? Don’t be childish. Heroes are cheap. There are plenty of others where he came from.
MOTHER COURAGE. I wasn’t asking just for the sake of argument. I was wondering if I should buy up a lot of supplies. They happen to be cheap right now. But if the war’s going to end, I might just as well forget it.
CHAPLAIN. There are people who think the war’s about to end, but I say: you can’t be sure it will ever end. Oh, it may have to pause occasionally, for breath, as it were. It can even meet with an accident – nothing on this earth is perfect – one can’t think of everything – a little oversight and a war may be in the hole and someone’s got to pull it out again. That someone is the King or the Emperor or the Pope. But they’re such friends in need, this war hasn’t got much to worry about: it can look forward to a prosperous future.
MOTHER COURAGE. If I was sure you’re right…
CHAPLAIN. Think it out for yourself. How could the war end?
REGIMENTAL CLERK. I’m from Bohemia. I’d like to get home once in a while. So I’m hoping for peace.
CHAPLAIN. Peace?
REGIMENTAL CLERK. Yes, peace! How can we live without it?
CHAPLAIN. We don’t have to. There’s peace even in war. War satisfies all needs – even those of peace. I know a song about that. (He sings:)
Song -- THE ARMY CHAPLAIN’S SONG
DOES WAR, MY FRIEND, STOP YOU FROM DRINKING?
DOES IT NOT GIVE YOU BREAD TO CHEW?
TO MY OLD-FASHIONED WAY OF THINKING
THAT MUCH AT LEAST A WAR CAN DO.
AND EVEN IN THE THICK OF SLAUGHTER
A SOLDIER FEELS THE AMOROUS ITCH
AND MANY A BUXOM FARMER’S DAUGHTER
HAS LOST HER VIRTUE IN A DITCH.
REGIMENTAL CLERK. Maybe. But when shall I get another good night’s sleep?
CHAPLAIN. That also has been care of.
SOMEHOW WE FIND THE BREAD AND BRANDY
AND FINDING WOMEN IS A SNAP.
AND WHEN THERE IS A GUTTER HANDY
WE CATCH A TWENTY-MINUTE NAP.
AS FOR THE SLEEP THAT LASTS FOREVER
THOUGH IT WILL COME IN ANY CASE
IN WAR MORE CHRISTIAN SOULS THAN EVER
REACH THEIR ETERNAL RESTING PLACE.
REGIMENTAL CLERK. And when everyone’s dead, the war won’t stop even then, I suppose?
CHAPLAIN. Let me finish.
WHAT WON’T A SOLDIER DO IN WARTIME
HIS SAVAGE LUST TO SATISFY!
BUT AFTER ALL, ’TWAS SAID AFORETIME:
BE FRUITFUL, LADS, AND MULTIPLY!
IF YOU IGNORE THIS HIGH INJUNCTION
THE WAR WILL HAVE TO STOP, MY FRIEND:
PERFORM YOUR BIOLOGIC FUNCTION
AND THEN THE WAR NEED NEVER END!
REGIMENTAL CLERK. You admit the war could stop.
CHAPLAIN. Tsk, tsk , tsk. You don’t know where God lives. Listen!
PEACEMAKERS SHALL THE EARTH INHERIT:
WE BLESS THOSE MEN OF SIMPLE WORTH.
WARMAKERS HAVE STILL GREATER MERIT:
THEY HAVE INHERITED THE EARTH.
I’LL TELL YOU, MY GOOD SIR, WHAT PEACE IS:
THE HOLE WHEN ALL THE CHEESE IS GONE.
AND WHAT IS WAR? THIS IS MY THESIS:
IT’S WHAT THE WORLD IS FOUNDED ON.
War is like love: it’ll always find a way. Why should it end?
MOTHER COURAGE. Then I will buy those supplies. I’ll take your word for it.
(KATTRIN, who has been staring at the CHAPLAIN, suddenly bangs a basket of glasses down on the ground and runs out. MOTHER COURAGE laughs.)
She’ll go right on waiting for peace. I promised her a husband when peace comes. (She follows KATTRIN.)
REGIMENTAL CLERK (standing up). You were singing. I win.
(MOTHER COURAGE brings KATTRIN back.)
MOTHER COURAGE. Be sensible, the war’ll go on a bit longer, and we’ll make a bit more money – then peace’ll be all the nicer. Now you go into the town, it’s not ten minutes’ walk, and bring the things from the Golden Lion. Just the special things for your trousseau : the rest we can pick up later in the wagon. The Clerk will go with you, you’ll be quite safe. Do a good job, and don’t lose anything, think of your trousseau!
(KATTRIN ties a kerchief round her head and leaves with the CLERK. )
Now you can chop me a bit of firewood.
(The CHAPLAIN takes his coat off and prepares to chop wood.)
CHAPLAIN. Properly speaking, I am a pastor of souls, not a woodcutter.
MOTHER COURAGE. But I don’t have a soul, and I do need wood.
CHAPLAIN. What’s that little pipe you’ve got there?
MOTHER COURAGE. Just a pipe.
CHAPLAIN. I think it’s a very particular pipe.
MOTHER COURAGE. Oh?
CHAPLAIN. The cook’s pipe in fact. Our Swedish Commander’s cook.
MOTHER COURAGE. If you know, why beat about the bush?
CHAPLAIN. I wondered if you knew. It was possible you just rummaged among your belongings and just lit on… some pipe.
MOTHER COURAGE. How d’you know that’s not it?
CHAPLAIN. It isn’t! You did know! (He brings the axe down on the block.)
MOTHER COURAGE. What if I did?
CHAPLAIN. Mother Courage, it is my duty to warn you. You are unlikely to see the gentleman again, but that’s a blessing. Mother Courage, he did not strike me as trustworthy
MOTHER COURAGE. Really? He was such a nice man.
CHAPLAIN. Well! So that’s what you call a nice man! I do not. (Again the axe falls.) Far be it from me to wish him ill, but I cannot, cannot describe him as nice. No, he’s a Don Juan, a cunning Don Juan. Just look at that pipe if you don’t believe me – it tells all!
MOTHER COURAGE. I see nothing special about this pipe. It’s been used, of course…
CHAPLAIN. It’s been practically bitten through! Oho, he’s a wild man! That is the pipe of a wild man! (The axe falls more violently than ever.)
MOTHER COURAGE. Now it’s my chopping block that’s bitten through!
CHAPLAIN. I told you the care of souls was my field. In physical labor my God-given talents find no adequate expression. You haven’t heard me preach. Why, I can put such spirit into a regiment with a single sermon that the enemy’s a mere flock of sheep to them and their own lives are no more than a smelly old pair of shoes to be instantly thrown away at the thought of final Victory! God has given me the gift of tongues! I can preach you out of your senses!
MOTHER COURAGE. But I need my senses. What would I do without them?
CHAPLAIN. Mother Courage, I have often thought that – under a veil of blunt speech – you conceal a heart. You are human, you need warmth.
MOTHER COURAGE. The best way of warming this tent is to chop plenty of firewood.
CHAPLAIN. Seriously, my dear Courage, I sometimes ask myself how it would be if our relationship should be somewhat more firmly cemented. I mean: now the wild wind of war has whirled us so strangely together.
MOTHER COURAGE. The cement’s pretty firm already. I cook your meals. And you lend a hand – at chopping firewood, for instance.
(The CHAPLAIN flourishes the axe as he approaches her.)
CHAPLAIN. Oh, you know what I mean by a closer relationship. Let your heart speak!
MOTHER COURAGE. Don’t come at me like that with your axe! That’d be too close a relationship!
CHAPLAIN. This is no laughing matter. I have given it careful thought.
MOTHER COURAGE. My dear Chaplain, be sensible, I do like you. All I want is for me and mine to get by in this war. Now chop the firewood and we’ll be warm in the evenings. What’s that?
(MOTHER COURAGE stands up. KATTRIN enters with a nasty wound above her eye. She is letting everything fall, parcels, leather goods, a drum, etc.)
What happened? Were you attacked? On the way back? It’s not serious, only a flesh wound. I’ll bandage it up, and you’ll be better within a week. Didn’t the clerk walk you back? That’s because you’re a good girl, he thought they’d leave you alone. The wound isn’t deep. It will never show. There! (She has finished the bandage.) Now I have a little present for you. (She fishes Yvette’s red boots out of a bag.) See? You always wanted them – now you have them. Put them on before I change my mind. It will never show. Look, the boots have kept well, I cleaned them good before I put them away.
(But KATTRIN leaves the boots alone, and creeps into the wagon.)
CHAPLAIN. I hope she won’t be disfigured.
MOTHER COURAGE. There’ll be quite a scar. She needn’t wait for peace now.
CHAPLAIN. She didn’t let them get any of the things.
MOTHER COURAGE. I wish I knew what goes on inside her head. She stayed out all night once – once in all the years. I never did get out of her what happened. (She picks up the things that KATTRIN spilled and angrily sorts them out.) And this is war! A nice source of income, I must say!
(Cannon)
CHAPLAIN. They’re lowering the Commander in his grave. A historic moment!
MOTHER COURAGE. It’s historic to me all right. She’s finished. How would she ever get a husband now? And she’s crazy for children. Even her dumbness comes from the war. A soldier stuck something in her mouth when she was little. I’ll never see Swiss Cheese again, and where my Eilif is the Good Lord knows. Curse the war!
7.
(A highway. The CHAPLAIN and KATTRIN are pulling the wagon. It is dirty and neglected, though new goods are hung around it.)
MOTHER COURAGE. (walking beside the wagon, a flask at her waist) I won’t have my war all spoiled for me! Destroys the weak, does it? Well, what does peace do for ’em? Huh? (She sings The Song of Mother Courage.)
SO CHEER UP, BOYS, THE ROSE IS FADING!
WHEN VICTORY COMES YOU MAY BE DEAD!
A WAR IS JUST THE SAME AS TRADING:
BUT NOT WITH CHEESE – WITH STEEL AND LEAD!
CHRISTIANS, AWAKE! THE WINTER’S GONE!
THE SNOWS DEPART, THE DEAD SLEEP ON.
AND THOUGH YOU MAY NOT LONG SURVIVE
GET OUT OF BED AND LOOK ALIVE!
8.
(In the same year, the Protestant king fell in the battle of Lützen. The peace threatens MOTHER COURAGE with ruin. Her brave son performs one heroic deed too many and comes to a shameful end.)
(A camp. Summer morning. In front of the wagon, an OLD WOMAN and her SON. The SON drags a large bag of bedding. MOTHER COURAGE is inside the wagon.)
MOTHER COURAGE. Must you come at the crack of dawn?
YOUNG MAN. We’ve been walking all night. Twenty miles. We have to get back today.
MOTHER COURAGE. What do I want with bed feathers? Take them to the town!
YOUNG MAN. At least wait till you see them.
OLD WOMAN. Nothing doing here either. Let’s go.
YOUNG MAN. And let ’em sign away the roof over our heads for taxes? Maybe she’ll pay three guilders if you throw in that bracelet. (Bells start ringing.) Hear that, Mother?
VOICE FROM A DISTANCE. It’s peace! The King of Sweden got killed!
(MOTHER COURAGE sticks her head out of the wagon.
She hasn’t done her hair yet.)
MOTHER COURAGE. Bells? Bells in the middle of the week?
(The CHAPLAIN crawls out from under the wagon.)
CHAPLAIN. What’s that they’re shouting?
YOUNG MAN. It’s peace.
CHAPLAIN. Peace?!
MOTHER COURAGE. Don’t tell me peace has broken out - I’ve gone and bought all these supplies!
CHAPLAIN. (shouting) Is it peace?
VOICE. Yes! The war stopped three weeks ago!
CHAPLAIN. (to MOTHER COURAGE) Why else would they ring the bells?
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VOICE. A big crowd of Lutherans just arrived – they brought the news.
YOUNG MAN. It’s peace, Mother. (The OLD WOMAN collapses.) What’s the matter?
MOTHER COURAGE. (back in the wagon) Kattrin, it’s peace! Put on your black dress, we’re going to church, we owe it to Swiss Cheese.
YOUNG MAN. The war’s over. (The OLD WOMAN gets up, dazed.) I’ll get the harness shop going again now. Everything will be all right. Father will get his bed back. Can you walk? (to the CHAPLAIN) It was the news. She didn’t believe there’d ever be peace again. Father always said there would. We’ll be going home.
(They leave.)
MOTHER COURAGE (from the wagon). Give them a schnapps!
CHAPLAIN. Too late. they’ve gone! And who may this be coming over from camp? If it isn’t our Swedish Commander’s cook?!
(The COOK comes on, bedraggled, carrying a bundle.)
CHAPLAIN. Mother Courage, a visitor!
(MOTHER COURAGE clambers out of the wagon.)
COOK.I promised to come back, remember? For a short conversation? I didn’t forget your brandy, Mrs. Fierling.
MOTHER COURAGE. The Commander’s cook! After all these years! Where’s Eilif?
COOK. Isn’t he here yet? He went on ahead yesterday. He was on his way here.
CHAPLAIN. I’ll be putting my pastor’s clothes back on. (He goes behind the wagon.)
MOTHER COURAGE. Kattrin, Eilif’s coming! Bring a glass of brandy for the cook! (But KATTRIN doesn’t.) Oh, pull your hair over your face and forget it, the cook’s no stranger! (to him:) She won’t come out. Peace is nothing to her. It took too long to get here. Here’s your schnapps. (She has got it herself. They sit.)
COOK. Dear old peace!
MOTHER COURAGE. Dear old peace has broken my neck. On the chaplain’s advice I went and bought a lot of supplies. Now everybody’s leaving, and I’m holding the baby.
COOK. How could you listen to a windbag like the chaplain ? If I’d had the time I’d have warned you against him. But the Catholics were too quick for me. Since when did he become the big wheel around here? M