Fever 1793: Chapter 20 Summary & Analysis

The next morning, Mattie is awakened by a hoarse voice echoing off the houses: “Bring out your dead!” A man in tattered rags is pushing a cart, laden with two corpses, down the street. Mattie’s stomach clenches as she remembers Grandfather. She throws up as the details come back to her—yet “there could be no running from this […] I was the only one left.” Crying won’t solve anything, and burial can’t be delayed in this heat—Mattie learned that at Bush Hill.

Mattie runs to catch up with the cart before it disappears. A few minutes later, Grandfather’s body is loaded onto it. The man pushing the cart gives Mattie time to fetch her grandmother’s portrait and tuck it under Grandfather’s arm for the journey. When Mattie sees that the man is having trouble managing Grandfather’s weight, she taps him on the shoulder. He appraises Mattie quickly and silently moves aside to let her help.

Mattie reflects that her grandfather’s funeral procession ought to have been “loud and long, crowded with friends,” but the streets are silent and empty. A splinter pierces Mattie’s palm, and she cries again, realizing anew that Grandfather is gone.

The burial square is busy—30 or 40 men are digging graves. Two men wrap Grandfather in a large cloth and rapidly sew it shut, then prepare to “fling it into the open grave.” Suddenly, Mattie shouts, “Stop!” Everyone turns to look at her. She says that Grandfather shouldn’t just be tossed into the grave—you can’t bury someone without prayers.

A man speaks up softly, explaining that there are too many dead for separate funerals to be conducted. A minister will come later to pray for everyone. Though a “spiteful voice” hisses in Mattie’s head to “shut up,” she finds herself shoving the man and then seizing his shirt in her blistered hands. She tells him that he won’t bury “Captain William Farnsworth Cook, of the Pennsylvanian Fifth Regiment” without a prayer.

Suddenly, the man who’d pushed the burial cart speaks up: “The lass is right.” He withdraws a slim psalter from his pocket and asks Mattie if she can read. Mattie takes the worn book from him and stares at the crowd of grave diggers until they remove their caps and lay down their shovels. She finds the words “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want,” and begins to read in a clear voice. Soon other voices join in, some men wiping their eyes by the end. Mattie thanks them, returns the book, and walks away.

Mattie wanders the deserted streets, wondering what to do. Should she find her way to the Ludingtons, her mother’s friends, in the country? The orphan house? Helping at Bush Hill would remind her too much of Grandfather. Perhaps she should buy some food at the market and then hide at home until the frost hits—after all, “No one had a duty to me, and I had no claim on anyone else.” Faint with hunger, Mattie heads for the market, but finds its stalls abandoned. There are no sellers to be seen—only rats.

“Take inventory, check the pack and powder,” Mattie tells herself. She’s alone, there’s no food, and the streets are unsafe. She figures the best thing to do is walk home, where at least she’s safe. But when she passes the offices of the Federal Gazette, she’s eager for a friendly face. She steps inside to greet Mr. Brown and finds him looking aged. He tells Mattie he has no time for social calls.

Mattie asks Mr. Brown if she can place an advertisement in the Gazette inquiring about her mother. Mr. Brown replies that he’d like nothing better than to fulfill that request, but that the Gazette is the last paper in Philadelphia that’s still printing, and he is reduced to printing on half-sheets. He wants to flee the city, but he must stay to print physician’s notices and orders from the mayor. Mr. Brown buries his face in his hands.

When Mattie prompts Mr. Brown, he finally looks up and says that, at the beginning of August, Philadelphia was the largest American city, with a population of 40,000. Now more than half the population has fled, and more than 3,000 are dead. Those who remain are beginning to starve, since few farmers dare to enter the city, and those who do are charging exorbitant prices. He tells Mattie to go home and pray for frost. Mattie decides not to tell him about Grandfather. She leaves the print shop.

On the street, Mattie is suddenly stopped by an older woman with a cane, scowling, with a cloth over her face, demanding what business Mattie has there. When Mattie inquires after some neighbors and explains that she recently recovered from the fever at Bush Hill, the woman screams at her to leave and knocks her into the dirt with her cane. Mattie stumbles numbly onward.

Mattie continues to wander the streets, recalling painful memories and wondering vaguely about death. Then she snaps herself out of it: “Grandfather would not be proud if he saw me acting so spineless. I needed to captain myself.” Suddenly, she nearly trips over a broken doll in the street. As she picks it up, she hears whimpering through a doorway. When Mattie looks inside, she finds a small girl sucking her thumb, her hair tangled and her bare feet dirty. Mattie asks her if the doll belongs to her. “Broken,” the little girl says. Mattie asks if the girl’s parents are there. “Mama’s broken too,” the little girl answers.