Some people excuse a roughness of manner by saying that they detest affectations of all kinds, that they love the truth, that they are perfectly frank and outspoken. Such people pride themselves upon their naturalness, and on the ground of frankness they will wound by rude language, will insult you, and defend their awkwardness and ill-breeding by the plea of "natural manners." Naturalness is not always commendable. If nature has not invested us with those qualities which are pleasing to others, we should try to improve upon nature. The plainest truths may be conveyed in civil speech, and it is better to "assume a virtue if you have it not." To object to politeness on the ground that its language is sometimes unmeaning and expressed for effect, is as foolish as it would be to object to the decoration of our parlors or the wearing of good clothes.
In the ordinary compliments of good society there is no intention to deceive. Polite language is pleasant to the ear, and soothing to the heart, while rough words are the reverse, and while they may not always be the result of bad temper, they are quite likely to cause it.
The motive for politeness should not be the desire to shine, or to raise one's self into society supposed to be better than one's own. The cultivation of good manners is not merely a means to the gratification of personal vanity, but it is a duty we owe not only to other people but to ourselves; a duty to make ourselves better in every respect than we are. Indeed, the true spirit of good manners is so nearly allied to that of good morals that they seem almost inseparable.
"Did you ever think how invisible is the armor of defence afforded by perfect politeness?" asks Harper's Bazar. "Neither man, woman nor child can resist it. The quick tempered Irish maid who loses her hold on her tongue so easily and 'answers back' with a hot retort is abashed when her mistress meets her with quiet courtesy. The angry person, off guard and saying what he really does not mean, is foiled by the self-control of his interlocutor, who has not, for an instant, forgotten the gracious manner of good breeding."
Politeness is, perhaps, instinctive with some, but with the majority it is a matter of training, of the slow and careful discipline of voice and eye and carriage. Under this training all the angles of personal vanity and self-consciousness are rubbed off, the person becomes adorned with grace, ease, simplicity and gentleness, and what may seem to the untrained observer as the perfection of naturalness may be simply the perfection of culture.
Very sensitive persons who suffer acutely from fancied slights can save themselves many wounds by always being as scrupulous in giving as they are in exacting courtesy. To suffer one's self to perpetrate a rudeness is to lay one's self open to the same. In nothing should we be less economical than in politeness. It should lead us to prompt and generous acknowledgment of every kindness, to responsive thanks when a gift, however small, is brought to our door. It should oblige us to listen with patient attention even to the person whose conversation is not entertaining, to sit apparently absorbed when in public we are present at concert or lecture. This defensive armor, so smooth, so polished, so easily worn, will make our intercourse with society agreeable.
The fact is, that when we come in contact with human beings anywhere and in any occupation, we are quite likely to get in return just what we give.
A man who is always the gentleman seldom meets with rebuffs from even the most unpolished and crude. The employer who uses kind words with his workmen, usually gets kind words in return.