A.P. Herbert

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Sir Alan Patrick Herbert, known as A.P. Herbert, was an English poet, playwright, novelist, and politician, best remembered for his witty and often controversial contributions to British law and culture. Born on September 24, 1890, in Ashtead, Surrey, Herbert’s early life was marked by tragedy, including the death of his mother when he was eight and the subsequent loss of both of his brothers in combat. These personal losses played a role in shaping his character, notably his lifelong commitment to the welfare of others and his later advocacy for legal reforms. Herbert died on November 11, 1971, in London.

Herbert was educated at Winchester College and New College, Oxford, where he earned a starred first in jurisprudence in 1914. His literary career began early when he contributed verses to Punch while still a student, a magazine where he would later become a key contributor. His academic journey took an unexpected turn when he switched from studying Classics to Law, a discipline that would later inform much of his writing and political work.

Herbert’s life was also deeply shaped by his military service during World War I. In September 1914, at the outbreak of the war, he enlisted as an ordinary seaman in the Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve. He served with the Royal Naval Division in Gallipoli and later on the Western Front, where he was wounded and spent time recovering in England. During his convalescence, he wrote The Secret Battle (1919), a novel inspired by his wartime experiences, which earned praise from military leaders like Montgomery but did not achieve commercial success.

After the war, Herbert pursued a career in law and writing, but it was his work with Punch and his growing influence as a public intellectual that solidified his reputation. He contributed to Punch starting in 1910 and continued as a regular writer after the war. His literary works ranged from the comic to the serious, often addressing social issues through satire. His Matrimonial Causes Act 1937, which he championed as a Member of Parliament (MP), remains one of his most significant legal legacies, modernizing divorce law in the UK.

Herbert’s political career was unconventional. In 1935, he was elected as an independent MP for Oxford University, a position he held until 1950. He made a name for himself in Parliament not only as a reformer but also as a critic of various national policies, including the entertainment tax and the Oxford Group. He worked tirelessly for social causes, but it was his divorce reform bill that stands as his most enduring achievement in the political arena.

Herbert’s military service continued in the Second World War, though this time in a different capacity. In 1938, he joined the River Emergency Service and captained a boat, the Water Gipsy, on the River Thames. During the war, Herbert was known for his unwavering commitment to the cause, wearing his naval uniform throughout, even refusing higher commissions and offers to join Churchill’s war cabinet, preferring to serve in a role that allowed him to maintain close contact with the war effort at a grassroots level.

Herbert’s legacy extends beyond his political and military contributions to include his influence on British comedy, theatre, and law. He was knighted in 1945 for his services to the arts and law and was made a Companion of Honour in 1970. His wide-ranging career, from humorist to lawmaker, made him a unique figure in 20th-century British life.

Herbert’s personal life was equally notable, marked by a devotion to public service and a deep commitment to the causes he believed in, particularly those that affected the vulnerable. His works, both legal and literary, continue to be referenced for their influence on British legal reforms, and his wit and charm ensured he remained a beloved figure, especially among those who appreciated his humor and courage.

Despite his many achievements, Herbert never lost his interest in the personal and human side of life, whether through his novels, his legal work, or his time spent in military service. His experience on the front lines of the First World War shaped his worldview, one that combined a sense of humor with a commitment to social justice. Through his life and work, Herbert proved that a poet, a soldier, and a reformer could coexist within one person—an individual whose influence was felt in a multitude of areas, from the arts to the law, and whose legacy remains firmly rooted in British cultural history.

You may learn more at the Encyclopedia Britannica and Wikipedia.

Rocket Results

A.P. Herbert
So here’s another of your wicked wiles—

A rocket which can whizz four hundred miles?
Do not suppose, if it could travel ten,

Mr. Churchill

A.P. Herbert
Five years of toil and blood and tears and sweat;

Five years of faith and prophecy and plan!
He spoke our mind before our mind was set;

Nine Years

A.P. Herbert
Old and effete—this Parliament!’ they cried,

The laughing lads who stand about outside
(Though now they ask the object of their mirth

The Wimp

A.P. Herbert
The blimp (if he exists) may say

‘This thing is new. Take it away.’
But is the Wimp’s a wiser song—

Save Our Seaside

A.P. Herbert
Moth in the sofa, mines upon the shore:

The Skylark’s leaking, and the Pier’s no more.
For four long years we’ve seen the ‘seaside’ bleed,

Montgomery

A.P. Herbert
Field Marshal, few, and foolish, are the lands

That do not hail the baton in your hands.
They labelled you a ‘showman’. But we know

Hymn For Victory

A.P. Herbert
O Lord, Who saw us deep in shame

From too much love of peace,
Bless now our arms and honoured name,

Let Us Remember

A.P. Herbert
We fought to mend his manners;

We fought to save our souls:
But what was on our banners?

War— And Peace

A.P. Herbert
We can take it’—not a doubt.

We can give it—we can win it.
But, with softies all about,

Christmas Cards

A.P. Herbert
1.—For Downing Street

We do not think that everything is well,
But we do know the obstacles are large;

What A Plan!

A.P. Herbert
Honour the brave. But see some praise remains

Paris Regained

A.P. Herbert
The filthy guest has gone? You’ll need a wash:

But London will not wait to kiss your hand.
We have the bombing. But you had the Boche—

Consolation (For V1)

A.P. Herbert
You sighed: ‘If I were younger I would go

And share the perils of the fighting man.
I long to face the fury of the foe’;

The Buzz Bomb Boys

A.P. Herbert
Fire away, Fritz,

But look over your shoulder;
Fire away, Fritz,

Broken Glass

A.P. Herbert
The house still stands: but Hitler has had five shots.

The glass, the maddening glass, is everywhere.
We still are gathering glass and forget-me-nots.

Coeur deLion

A.P. Herbert
I have been in France. There are some poplars still,

And Norman spires unwounded on the hill:
I saw the slaughtered cities but I saw

The Solution

A.P. Herbert
Kill Hitler? Why? A Himmler takes his place.

There’ll be no rest till you destroy the race.
Besides, he’d be a hero if he died.

Business In Arms

A.P. Herbert
It was not righteousness, it was not luck

That made the Fort, the Sherman and the Duck,
Or launched the Liberties and L.S.T.’s

‘Paid Off’

A.P. Herbert
Haul down the flag, and put the guns ashore:

Poor boat, they do not need you any more.
But never mind. Here is the old burgee:

Bridgeheads For All

A.P. Herbert
(‘The Russian People are entitled to safe frontiers.’-

The Prime Minister)
But, sir, what line of land is ‘safe’ to-day

Big Ben

A.P. Herbert
(‘Our lantern was extinguished . . .’—The Speaker)

‘Extinguished?’ No, Sir. Darkened for the fight,
Blacked-out, bombarded, bullied night and day,

The Harbour

A.P. Herbert
We saw them come down the River, the comical, secret floats,

Weird shapes like a madman’s playthings-and what could the monsters be?
Were they bridges, or docks, or jetties? Were they ferries, or forts, or boats?

To A Horse

A.P. Herbert
The curtain rises on the crowded stage—

The grimmest play produced by any age.
We have invaded France-and captured Rome;

The Wonder

A.P. Herbert
It is a wonder, this tough, tiny isle,

With such a load of metal and of men,
That she can sleep, that she can sleep and smile,

‘Unconditional’

A.P. Herbert
Why should the foe complain about his end

If this is how we amputate a friend?
No more let ‘Munich’ be a name to vex:

The White Star

A.P. Herbert
There was no waving. Nobody made a sound.

Ship after ship, with never a cheer or song.
Only the White Star whispered where they were bound,

Bored?

A.P. Herbert
Bored with the war, Sir? Weary and worn and old?

May be. But be thankful you spend your nights in a bed:
You do not wake in a slit-trench, sodden and cold,

How Proud . . . !

A.P. Herbert
(To the Luftwaffe)

How proud you must be, boys, you who were Lords of the Air,
Playing with fireworks, deep in a concrete cave.

The British Chest

A.P. Herbert
The chest is empty’ say the sad.

Well, yes, we’ve given all we had.
But British breed, and brawn, and brain

The Ballad of The ‘Bluebell’

A.P. Herbert
(With respectful reference to the admirable exploit of Petty

Officer Alan Baker, of L .B .V. 37)
The Bluebell was a lighter, a dumb barge, a box,

One Front

A.P. Herbert
Americans advance—the British not—

‘We don’t do much—the Russians do a lot.’
Such talk, my little lad, should be taboo:

Buns For The Huns

A.P. Herbert
I see it coming — the Fund to feed the Huns:

We shall go short of bread to give them buns.
No, thank you, boys. We cannot do too much

‘R. E.’

A.P. Herbert
Salute the sappers, all you fighting men;

All you great guns and tanks and lorries, bow!
Bow down, bazooka, bayonet and Bren.

France

A.P. Herbert
Gone?’ France? As well put out the stars,

Or take the ruddy heart from Mars!
And Frenchmen, fighting now for Rome,

From The Dug-Out; A Memory of Gallipoli

A.P. Herbert
It was my home, not ringed with roses blowing,

    Nor set in meadows where cool waters croon;
  Parched wastes were round it, and no shade was going,

Beast Or Brother?

A.P. Herbert
Some call them ‘bestial’; but that’s unkind:

There is no animal with such a mind.
Some others say: ‘They are my brothers still’;

To A Bomber

A.P. Herbert
Heed not the sighs and sermons,

Go, gallant lads, again.
Let some folk think of Germans—

Wrong Name

A.P. Herbert
Let’s have less talk of ‘Nazi’ tank

And ‘Nazi’ aeroplane.
It is the GERMANS we must thank

The Travellers

A.P. Herbert
Soldier, are you afraid of the things to come?

Do you dream of the dawn-and the cold sea’s heave—
And the guns’ blaze and the bullets’ hum—

W. L. A.

A.P. Herbert
Salute the ladies of the land

Who fight with spade and plough,
The girls who keep the tractors manned,

R-US-AF

A.P. Herbert
Like Sun and Moon, they share the sky

But courteously divide the day;
No matter what the clocks may cry

‘Unreasonable’

A.P. Herbert
Unreasonable’ Poles, why do you falter?

Be sensible—be realistic, pray.
Yours are the only frontiers that must alter:

‘Put That Light Out’

A.P. Herbert
Germany, your name is Night,

Darkening every coast and clime:
Even when you show a light

A Change

A.P. Herbert
They used to laugh

At the General Staff:
What ass will bray

‘Nice Kind Germans’

A.P. Herbert
When Rome, and Rommel, disappoint the foe

The Nice Kind German is again on show.
On go the sheep-skins, and the wolves protest

The Big Parade

A.P. Herbert
Boadicea from the Bridge looked down,

And saw the Yankee tanks invade the town.
Boadicea held her head more high

‘Flaming June’

A.P. Herbert
June, gentle June, of whom the crooners croon,

Sweet month of silk, of salmon, and the swoon;
June, what a chance you had—to be your best,

The Battle Of The Headlines

A.P. Herbert
Hold back, sub-editor! You march and plan

So much more swiftly than the soldiers can.
They take a trench or two, a few-score scalps,

St. George

A.P. Herbert
The dragon to his cave retires,

And all the world awaits the kill:
But we can feel the angry fires,

‘H. G.’

A.P. Herbert
Four years! And still you do not shirk

The weary round of watch and work.
Four years! And still from bank or bench

Badogliovski

A.P. Herbert
The war, though we dislike it quite a bit,

Is sometimes laughable, you must admit.

A ‘Good’ Budget

A.P. Herbert
Thank you, Sir John; though it’s a little strange

To thank the torturer who makes no change.
Thank you. Sir John, you’ve been extremely nice:

‘Poor Old Britain’

A.P. Herbert
Nobody’s wrong but England—and England’s always wrong,

Too late—or else too early—too soft—or else too strong.
And when for once the wide world begins to praise her name

THANK YOU

A.P. Herbert
(To the Metropolitan Police)

Thank you, policeman. What would London do
Without her guides, and guardians, in blue?

Thank You {To the N. F. S.}

A.P. Herbert
Thank you, fire-fighters, harnessing your hoses,

Busy at your pumps, or patiently at play:
Once upon a time we used to throw you roses;

‘C.D.’

A.P. Herbert
Thank you, soldiers of the street,

Never budging, never beat,
You who steer, so fierce and fast,

Berlin

A.P. Herbert
{To a Bishop)

I do not ‘gloat’. But when I see
What they have done to all mankind,

The Tower Of Babble

A.P. Herbert
Some one in Cairo—Cairo, if you please!—

Reports that Britain is arranging Peace.
There’s been a meeting in the Pyrenees’.

Woman Power

A.P. Herbert
They took the maid; they took the cook as well:

Mamma said ‘Splendid! Give the Germans——!
The two small daughters did the housework now;

‘Salute The Soldier’

A.P. Herbert
Hail, soldier, huddled in the rain,

Hail, soldier, squelching through the mud,
Hail, soldier, sick of dirt and pain,

Beaucourt Revisited

A.P. Herbert
I wandered up to Beaucourt; I took the river track

And saw the lines we lived in before the Boche went back;
But Peace was now in Pottage, the front was far ahead,

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