On Saying “Please”
by Alfred George Gardiner
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In this witty essay, A. G. Gardiner ('Alpha of the Plough') stresses the value of good manners and courtesy in everyday life. He begins with a lift-man who threw a passenger out of his lift for refusing to say 'Please', clearly wrong, yet understandable, since rudeness deeply wounds self-respect. Gardiner argues that the law cannot punish bad manners or make us say 'Please', but bad manners poison social life and spread like a chain reaction of ill-humour. 'Please' and 'Thank you' are the 'small change' that keep the machine of life running sweetly. He praises a polite bus conductor whose unfailing courtesy, booking a penniless passenger through, apologising for stepping on a toe, and caring for the old, children and the blind, spreads cheer, for good manners are as infectious as fine weather. The lift-man, he says, would have won a far sweeter, spiritual victory by answering rudeness with elaborate politeness, as Lord Chesterfield did.
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'On Saying "Please"' by Alfred George Gardiner is a light, humorous but thoughtful essay on the importance of courtesy and good manners in social life. It shows how politeness sweetens the atmosphere while rudeness poisons it.
The lift-man and the law
Gardiner opens with a real incident: a lift-man threw a passenger out of his lift and was fined, because the passenger said only 'Top' instead of 'Top, please'. The lift-man was clearly in the wrong, for discourtesy is not a legal offence and cannot excuse assault. The law rightly protects even the rude, since it could never legislate against bad manners, otherwise 'the gutters of the city would run with blood all day'.
How bad manners poison life
Yet, Gardiner says, the damage done by rudeness is real: a wound to one's self-respect or vanity 'may poison a whole day', far longer than a kick on the shins. Worse, bad manners are catching and spread in a chain: Sir Anthony Absolute bullies Captain Absolute, who bullies his servant Fag, who kicks the page-boy. 'We infect the world with our ill-humours.' Bad manners, he suggests, poison the general life more than all the crimes in the calendar, yet the law cannot be the guardian of our private manners.
The 'small change' of courtesy
Above the law, Gardiner argues, stands an older, sacred social practice: civility. 'Please' and 'Thank you' are 'the small change with which we pay our ways as social beings', little courtesies that keep 'the machine of life oiled and running sweetly', turning our dealings into friendly co-operation rather than superiors dictating to inferiors.
The polite bus conductor
To illustrate, Gardiner praises a 'polite conductor'. When the writer once boarded penniless, the conductor kindly booked him through with a cheerful 'you'll see me some day all right'. Another day, having trodden on the writer's toe, he apologised charmingly. The conductor was considerate to old people 'as a son', to children 'as a father', jested merrily with the young, and personally guided blind passengers safely across the road.
His good humour lightened both his passengers' spirits and his own task, 'his gaiety was not a wasteful luxury, but a sound investment'. For good manners, like good weather, are infectious: 'a cheerful person descends on even the gloomiest of us with something of the benediction of a fine day.'
The sweeter, spiritual victory
Gardiner concludes that we cannot restore everyday civilities by invoking the law; the policeman can only protect us from physical attack, not moral affront. The lift-man would have taken a 'more subtle and effective revenge' by treating the discourteous gentleman with 'elaborate politeness'.
He recalls Lord Chesterfield, who, when a man refused to 'give the wall' (the drier footpath) to a scoundrel, replied, 'I always do,' and stepped courteously into the road. The polite man may lose the material advantage but always wins the 'spiritual victory', and that is the victory that counts.