Books in Brief

The Statesman, by Henry Taylor (Mentor, 50 cents). First published in England in 1836, this a splendidly ironical manual for civil servants and ambitious politicians. The world has forgotten Taylor, but his advice is as timely in the world of Elizabeth II as it was in the world of Victoria. “The leading rule,” he counsels officials engaged in writing official letters, “is to be content to be common-place.” He lays down precise rules for obtaining “the most valuable of all reputations in this line of life, that of a ‘safe man.’ “The idea is to evade decisions wherever they can be evaded, to shift decisions onto other departments whenever possible, to defer questions until they resolve themselves, and to undertake “nothing for the public good which the public voice does not call for.” Taylor’s little book, full of internal chuckles and sudden profound insights, is especially good reading for all of us political writers who wish we had said that. The rising young statesman may find nothing funny in it, but he will rise the faster if he heeds the advice of a cynical Victorian who knew a thousand politicians and held them all in a tolerant contempt.

J. J. KILPATRICK

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The Statesman, by Henry Taylor (Mentor, 50 cents). First published in England in 1836, this a splendidly ironical manual for civil servants and ambitious politicians. The world has forgotten Taylor, but his advice is as timely in the world of Elizabeth II as it was in the world of Victoria. “The leading rule,” he counsels officials engaged in writing official letters, “is to be content to be common-place.” He lays down precise rules for obtaining “the most valuable of all reputations in this line of life, that of a ‘safe man.’ “The idea is to evade decisions wherever they can be evaded, to shift decisions onto other departments whenever possible, to defer questions until they resolve themselves, and to undertake “nothing for the public good which the public voice does not call for.” Taylor’s little book, full of internal chuckles and sudden profound insights, is especially good reading for all of us political writers who wish we had said that. The rising young statesman may find nothing funny in it, but he will rise the faster if he heeds the advice of a cynical Victorian who knew a thousand politicians and held them all in a tolerant contempt.

J. J. KILPATRICK