They were new patients to me, all I had was the name, Olson. Please come down as soon as you can, my daughter is very sick.
When I arrived I was met by the mother, a big startled looking woman, very clean and apologetic who merely said, Is this the doctor? and let me in. In the back, she added. You must excuse us, doctor, we have her in the kitchen where it is warm. It is very damp (влажный) here sometimes.
The child was fully dressed and sitting on her father's lap near the kitchen table. He tried to get up, but I motioned for him not to bother, took off my overcoat and started to look things over. I could see that they were all very nervous, eyeing me up and down distrustfully. As often, in such cases, they weren't telling me more than they had to, it was up to me to tell them; that's why they were spending three dollars on me.
The child was fairly eating me up with her cold, steady eyes, and no expression to her face whatever. She did not move and seemed, inwardly, quiet; an unusually attractive little thing, and as strong as a heifer (тёлка) in appearance. But her face was flushed, she was breathing rapidly, and I realized that she had a high fever. She had magnificent blonde hair, in profusion (богатство; избыток). One of those picture children often reproduced in advertising leaflets and the photogravure sections of the Sunday papers.
She's had a fever for three days, began the father and we don't know what it comes from. My wife has given her things, you know, like people do, but it don't do no good. And there's been a lot of sickness around. So we tho't you'd better look her over and tell us what is the matter.
As doctors often do I took a trial shot at it as a point of departure. Has she had a sore throat?
Both parents answered me together, No... No, she says her throat don't hurt her.
Does your throat hurt you? added the mother to the child. But the little girl's expression didn't change nor did she move her eyes from my face.
Have you looked?
I tried to, said the mother, but I couldn't see.
As it happens we had been having a number of cases of diphtheria in the school to which this child went during that month and we were all, quite apparently, thinking of that, though no one had as yet spoken of the thing.
Well, I said, suppose we take a look at the throat first. I smiled in my best professional manner and asking for the child's first name I said, come on, Mathilda, open your mouth and let's take a look at your throat.
Nothing doing.
Aw, come on, I coaxed (убеждать, упрашивать, уговаривать), just open your mouth wide and let me take a look. Look, I said opening both hands wide, I haven't anything in my hands. Just open up and let me see.
Such a nice man, put in the mother. Look how kind he is to you. Come on, do what he tells you to. He won't hurt you.
At that I ground my teeth in disgust. If only they wouldn't use the word "hurt" I might be able to get somewhere. But I did not allow myself to be hurried or disturbed but speaking quietly and slowly I approached the child again.
As I moved my chair a little nearer suddenly with one catlike movement both her hands clawed instinctively for my eyes and she almost reached them too. In fact she knocked my glasses flying and they fell, though unbroken, several feet away from me on the kitchen floor.
Both the mother and father almost turned themselves inside out in embarrassment and apology. You bad girl, said the mother, taking her and shaking her by one arm. Look what you've done. The nice man...
For heaven's sake, I broke in. Don't call me a nice man to her. I'm here to look at her throat on the chance that she might have diphtheria and possibly die of it. But that's nothing to her. Look here, I said to the child, we're going to look at your throat. You're old enough to understand what I'm saying. Will you open it now by yourself or shall we have to open it for you)
Not a move. Even her expression hadn't changed. Her breaths however were coming faster and faster. Then the battle began. I had to do it. I had to have a throat culture for her own protection. But first I told the parents that it was entirely up to them. I explained the danger but said that I would not insist on a throat examination so long as they would take the responsibility.
If you don't do what the doctor says you'll have to go to the hospital, the mother admonished (советовать, убеждать, увещевать, уговаривать) her severely.
Oh yeah? I had to smile to myself. After all, I had already fallen in love with the savage (невоспитанный) brat (надоедливый ребёнок), the parents were contemptible (презренный) to me. In the ensuing struggle they grew more and more abject (подлый, низкий), crushed, exhausted while she surely rose to magnificent heights of insane fury of effort bred of her terror of me.
The father tried his best, and he was a big man but the fact that she was his daughter, his shame at her behavior and his dread of hurting her made him release her just at the critical times when I had almost achieved success, till I wanted to kill him. But his dread also that she might have diphtheria made him tell me to go on, go on though he himself was almost fainting, while the mother moved back and forth behind us raising and lowering her hands in an agony of apprehension.
Put her in front of you on your lap, I ordered, and hold both her wrists.
But as soon as he did the child let out a scream. Don't, you're hurting me. Let go of my hands. Let them go I tell you. Then she shrieked terrifyingly, hysterically. Stop it! Stop it! You're killing me!
Do you think she can stand it, doctor! said the mother.
You get out, said the husband to his wife. Do you want her to die of diphtheria?
Come on now, hold her, I said.
Then I grasped the child's head with my left hand and tried to get the wooden tongue depressor between her teeth. She fought, with clenched teeth, desperately! But now I also had grown furious--at a child. I tried to hold myself down but I couldn't. I know how to expose a throat for inspection. And I did my best. When finally I got the wooden spatula behind the last teeth and just the point of it into the mouth cavity, she opened up for an instant but before I could see anything she came down again and gripping the wooden blade between her molars (коренной зуб) she reduced it to splinters (обломок) before I could get it out again.
Aren't you ashamed, the mother yelled at her. Aren't you ashamed to act like that in front of the doctor?
Get me a smooth-handled spoon of some sort, I told the mother. We're going through with this. The child's mouth was already bleeding. Her tongue was cut and she was screaming in wild hysterical shrieks. Perhaps I should have desisted (переставать, прекращать, заканчивать) and come back in an hour or more. No doubt it would have been better. But I have seen at least two children lying dead in bed of neglect in such cases, and feeling that I must get a diagnosis now or never I went at it again. But the worst of it was that I too had got beyond reason. I could have torn the child apart in my own fury and enjoyed it. It was a pleasure to attack her. My face was burning with it.
The damned little brat must be protected against her own idiocy, one says to one's self at such times. Others must be protected against her. It is a social necessity. And all these things are true. But a blind fury, a feeling of adult shame, bred of a longing for muscular release are the operatives. One goes on to the end.
In a final unreasoning assault I overpowered the child's neck and jaws. I forced the heavy silver spoon back of her teeth and down her throat till she gagged (давиться, подавиться). And there it was--both tonsils covered with membrane. She had fought valiantly (героически) to keep me from knowing her secret. She had been hiding that sore throat for three days at least and lying to her parents in order to escape just such an outcome as this.
Now truly she was furious. She had been on the defensive before but now she attacked. Tried to get off her father's lap and fly at me while tears of defeat blinded her eyes.
The Use of Force" by William Carlos Williams addresses the exertion of physical superiority over others, asking the fundamental question: is it ethical to hurt someone for his own good? More importantly, is there shame in enjoying it? The narrator, a doctor making housecalls in a setting that is likely the 19th-century (as hinted by the author's minute details, such as the three-dollar charge for the service), is host to conflicting feelings about his own actions—forcibly gathering the throat culture from the stubborn child he is examining—and expresses shame at his perverse pleasure in doing so. The story is fundamentally ordered by the passive descriptions of the surrounding environment and the agitated conclusion that absorbs those supporting details to present the speaker's view that, though there are reasons often justifiable, what compels the use of force against others isn't simply altruism alone.
From the outset, the doctor appears to be compassionate and keen to human behavior, characteristic of a good doctor, though he is also undeniably blunt and slightly prejudiced. Williams' choice to use interior
monologue as a "stream-of-consciousness" tool reflects the narrator's experience of dialogue and gives insight into the character and his appraisal of the situations he encounters. He immediately assesses the mother upon seeing her as "clean and apologetic," and dedicates more time a much more thorough description for the daughter, to whom he already has taken a fancy. He portrays the parents as eager to cooperate, yet nervous and distrustful of the stranger who is only in their house by forced circumstance, and therefore he finds them obstructive. In any case, his contempt for the parents (whom he barely knows) changes from implicit to overt as they are cajoling the young girl after initial efforts, particularly when he grinds his teeth in disgust at being called a "nice man." Their inane comments serve to do nothing but hinder the doctor's efforts to get the child to understand what he needs to do, and the placement of their comments in the speaker's own internal thoughts allow them to be felt in the same way the speaker felt them (usually as spontaneous and substanceless interjections: "Do you think she can stand it, doctor! Said the mother."). The father (who recieves very little characterization) provides one example of the weakness and ineptitude of the parents in dealing with the situation when he is attempting to hold his daughter back and fails restrain her at each pivotal moment due to his fear of hurting her. This behavior and the behavior of the family as a whole is spectacularly ironic, considering that all of their fears are preventing them from stopping what they should truly be fearing: a fatal case of diptheria.
The weakness on the parents' part and the stubbornness on the daughter's part contribute to the doctor's escalating frustration, to the point where he asserts his power: with a smooth spoon, he forces the girl's mouth open. He admits that he could have taken a more rational approach and tried again in an hour, of course, but he confesses that he had become just as irrational as everyone else in the room: "I could have torn the child apart in my own fury and enjoyed it. It was a pleasure to attack her. My face was burning with it." It is evident that he had been forceful and enjoyed it, but it is not likely that he would have done it in any other case. "The damned little brat must be protected against her own idiocy, one says to one's self at such times. Others must be protected against her. It is social necessity. And all these things are true. But a blind fury, a feeling of adult shame, bred of a longing for muscular release are the operatives." Indeed, it appears that he was compelled to action more strongly by his fury than his professional duty. As a professional, he has a barrier of rationality that prevents him from doing such irrational things; however, in this case, he had a strong justification for that action due to its "social necessity," which then permitted him to act upon his primal instincts without conscientious interference.
William Carlos Williams "The Use of Force" deals with a variety of emotions felt by a doctor during a house call. The story begins when a physician is summoned to make a house call on a family with whom he has had no prior contact. He quickly sizes up the situation: the household is poor but clean; the patient is a female child whose parents are nervously concerned, dependent on and yet distrustful of the doctor. The child's beauty and penetrating stare make an immediate impression on him. Concerned that diphtheria may be the cause of illness, he uses his customary professional manner to determine whether the child has a sore throat. The girl, however, won't open her mouth. She fights him off and all attempts to cajole her into compliance fail. He forces the girl's father to hold her down, while he manages to pry open her mouth after a long battle. She does, in fact, have diphtheria. "The Use of Force" is a story that employs the use of connotative language to convey its socially relevant theme within a brief conflict.
William Carlos Williams uses situational irony to support his theme as seen in the quote, "Then I grasped the child's head with my left hand and tried to get the wooden tongue depressor between her teeth.