Mother Courage’s wagon is the overriding symbol at the center of the play; Brecht’s audiences, readers, and performers will rightly interpret it in countless different ways, but one of its clearest functions is as a metaphor for the burden of fate. In short, Mother Courage’s attachment to her wagon represents the inescapable fact that our lives are determined by forces beyond our control, and we have to make the best of the circumstances in which we find ourselves.
The wagon serves as Mother Courage’s home and business, but it’s also her vehicle for traveling around Europe and her shield during battles along the way. The first line in the play is a stage direction describing the wagon, which remains onstage throughout nearly the whole performance, and Mother Courage’s last action in the final scene is to hitch herself to it, alone and resolute, and trudge onward into an uncertain future. The wagon burdens her physically because she has to pull it, economically because all her wealth gets locked up in it, and spiritually because it leads her children to their deaths and leads her to a lifetime of violence and instability. But she accepts that her lot in life is to keep pulling it, and she never considers leaving it behind. After all, she has always lived from it and she has no alternative—in a way, it is her very identity. Notably, Brecht is not praising her perseverance and namesake courage. In fact, he famously wished for audiences to see the fault in her ways rather than empathizing with her. Perhaps, like Germans on the eve of World War II, Mother Courage should have left her wagon behind and chosen a different life, rather than simply resigning herself to facing certain death and facilitating the destruction of Europe.
The Wagon Quotes in Mother Courage and Her Children
HERE’S MOTHER COURAGE AND HER WAGON!
HEY, CAPTAIN, LET THEM COME AND BUY!
BEER BY THE KEG! WINE BY THE FLAGON!
LET YOUR MEN DRINK BEFORE THEY DIE!
SABERS AND SWORDS ARE HARD TO SWALLOW:
FIRST YOU MUST GIVE THEM BEER TO DRINK.
THEN THEY CAN FACE WHAT IS TO FOLLOW—
BUT LET ‘EM SWIM BEFORE THEY SINK!
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!
YOUR MEN WILL MARCH TILL THEY ARE DEAD, SIR,
BUT CANNOT FIGHT UNLESS THEY EAT.
THE BLOOD THEY SPILL FOR YOU IS RED, SIR,
WHAT FIRES THAT BLOOD IS MY RED MEAT.
FOR MEAT AND SOUP AND JAM AND JELLY
IN THIS OLD CART OF MINE ARE FOUND:
SO FILL THE HOLE UP IN YOUR BELLY
BEFORE YOU FILL ONE UNDERGROUND.
Well, there’s yours, Eilif, my boy! (As EILIF takes the slip, she snatches it and holds it up.) See? A cross!
[…]
Take yours, Swiss Cheese. You should be a better bet—you’re my good boy. (SWISS CHEESE draws.) Don’t tell me it’s a cross? Is there no saving you either? Just look, Sergeant—a black cross!
[…]
(to KATTRIN) Now all I have left is you. You’re a cross in yourself but you have a kind heart. (She holds the helmet up but takes the slip herself.) Oh dear, there must be some mistake! Don’t be too kind, Kattrin, don’t be too kind—there’s a black cross in your path! So now you all know: be careful! Be very careful! (MOTHER COURAGE climbs on her wagon preparing to leave.)
YVETTE (re-enters, pale). You’ve done it—with your haggling. You can keep your wagon now. He got eleven bullets in him. I don’t know why I still bother about you, you don’t deserve it, but I just happened to hear they don’t think the cash-box is really in the river. They think it’s here. And they think you were in with him.
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!
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.
LIEUTENANT (pointing to the wagon on which KATTRIN has appeared). There’s another. (A SOLDIER pulls her out.) Is this everybody?
OLD PEASANT. That’s our son.
PEASANT WOMAN. And that’s a girl that can’t talk. Her mother’s in town buying up stocks because the shopkeepers are running away and selling cheap.
OLD PEASANT. They’re canteen people.
(KATTRIN, unperceived, has crept off to the wagon, has taken something out of it, put it under her skirt, and has climbed up the ladder to the roof.)
PEASANT WOMAN. Be mindful of the children in danger, especially the little ones, be mindful of the old folk who cannot move, and of all Christian souls, O Lord.
OLD PEASANT. Have you no one left?
MOTHER COURAGE. Yes, my son Eilif.
OLD PEASANT. Find him then, leave her to us.
PEASANT WOMAN. We’ll give her a proper burial, you needn’t worry.
MOTHER COURAGE. Here’s a little money for the expenses. (She harnesses herself to the wagon.) I hope I can pull the wagon by myself. Yes, I’ll manage. There’s not much in it now. (The last regiment is heard passing.) Hey! Take me with you!