Baruh Loves of the Devils Essay

— The Corvey Poets Project at the University of Nebraska —

British Poetry of the later Eighteenth and Earlier Nineteenth Centuries

Bibliographical and Contextual Apparatus

Baruh, S.

The Loves of The Devils; The Rape of the Lips; and other Poems. London: John Chappell and Son, 1823. xiv+145p.

Descriptive Essay

S. Baruh introduces us to his poetry by telling us that, as he was writing, he found his "…thoughts wandering from the national debt to a bag of feathers…" (v). This is a very fitting opening line to his introduction, because it also holds true for the first poem contained in the book.

In Loves of the Devils: First Devil's Love. Beelzebub and Antidove, the story is often interrupted with clarifications as to how Hell works such as:
          …(by the by to hate in Hell is love,
          And therefore, to love, or to adore in Hell's hate,) (p.2)
and,
          In Hell, there's nothing like our ladies' blisses,
          There, blows are kindnesses, for they're devilish kisses. (p.5)

Baruh also leaves his readers notes concerning his own disappointment in his writing as well as instructions for how we are to read it.
(That 'were' I do not like, I'll alter it some other time,
I've only plac'd it there just to suit my Rhyme—) (p.2)

           (Please to pronounce borrowed, borried, reader—
           It is only like the Cockney;
           When the muse deigns to become a pleader.
           Few should—none ought—to disobey;
           Besides, it can't make much difference to you.
           So, if you please, good friend, attend thereto.)   (p.3)

With all of this interruption of the story thus far, it is not surprising that he also gives us some of his own personal thoughts.
           Myself I like soft English lips much better,
           And do not mind being a Lady's debtor;
           What maiden pleases may lend me a sweet kiss,
           And, when it suits her, I'll return the bliss. (p.4)

After working through and around these somewhat intrusive comments, we find that the story takes place "Deep in the womb of good mother Earth…" (p.1) between Beelzebub and Antidove — Beelzebub, being "His Satanic Majesty, Beelzebub the Great,…" and Antidove being "not all angelical…" (p.2) The two are in a hate-relationship (as above noted that "hate" in Hell is "love") and so they spend their time torturing each other, taking on "…the forms of Owls, or Bats;/ Of hopping Frogs, or grinning Apes…" (p.7) One day, however, Beelzebub is not well (which could imply that he was very well, considering how everything works backwards in Hell from our human understanding) and wishes to lie down. Baruh tells us that the leader of imps is restless, but after reading three pages of Robert Southey's "Wat Tyler," he falls sound asleep. (I'm assuming that this was Baruh's way of telling his readers that he didn't care for the dramatic three-act poem.) Antidove, then thinking of torturing her despiser, places a kiss on his cheek (the ultimate ruthless angelic act). This event is the unforgivable moment that ends the relationship between Beelzebub and Antidove, and it ultimately ends the poem as well. Beelzebub "Took her in his arms, pell-mell. / And kick'd her out of Hell." (p.10)

S. Baruh then tells his readers of a Second Devil's Love between the devil Lucifer and the woman Zeo. This affair takes place shortly after the battle between Heaven and Hell and man's creation. Lucifer, while searching for more subjects, sees something:
          'Twas so lovely, and even he
          Who loath'd all loveliness at heart,
          Could not with hate that object see…" (p.13)
Baruh, here, is speaking of the maiden Zeo, who is so pure and beautiful that she puts most women to shame. At this point, S. Baruh interjects a memory from his own childhood of a maiden as fair as the tale's Zeo, taking us, as in his first poem, away from the story line.

Baruh then tells us of the interaction between Lucifer and Zeo — how Lucifer approaches the woman, and how she finds him attractive even though she senses evil lurking about; she does not fear that the source of that evil is he. Because this interaction is taking place shortly after the war between the powers, as Lucifer approaches Zeo, he begins to fear that another battle could take place and so he begins to call to the demons from below. As he calls them, he confidently proclaims the status of the universe after his victory:
          And I shall be worship'd in legions below,
          And Heaven be fill'd with grim sorrow and woe.
          And the Earth, and the Air, shall be Chaos again. (p.18)
However, before his cries even reach the ears of men, they are dispersed by the winds, so that no one comes to his aid.

Once Lucifer's proclamation is complete, he continues his approach to Zeo. "Lucifer address'd her in a strain / Of mighty Eloquence;" (p.19) With each of his words, Zeo feels both pain and intrigue. Although she does not love him, she loves the sin he offers to her. He, however, begins to love her and also begins to regret the disobedience that forced him to leave Heaven; but, like a true devil, he refuses to ask forgiveness, deeming the situation in which he finds himself too late for reversal. Lucifer once again puts these good thoughts out of his mind and continues his pursuit. Zeo, however, in her purity and innocence, still fails to recognize the evil within him.

The Archangel Raphael, whom we find has been observing the situation while caring for the cosmos, comes near to be enlightened on the situation at hand — to find out what his former ally and current enemy was planning. In asking Lucifer, he receives the reply,
She is mine, and I love her, you dare not to sever,
From me, this sweet maid, my Zeo for ever; (p.22)
No sooner does Lucifer speak these words, than the angel of death comes and takes sweet Zeo's life. Because she has committed no sin, she is whisked off to Heaven and forever separated from Satan. Thus this devil's love ends.

Baruh then takes us to a different battlefield, still involving Spirits (also called Sylphs) and Demons (also referred to as Sprites), but not directly, in The Rape of the Lips. In his introduction, Baruh dedicates this piece of work, written in three cantos, to Eliza — possibly the love he most recently lost. Then, oddly enough, he also gives an address to the ladies. He begins this with, "Fair Ladies, I humbly crave your attention…" (p.29) (This seems to be a running theme throughout this publication.) He informs his female audience that he is a bachelor who will remain so "…until one of you, sweet Ladies, bless me with your charms.--" (p.30) He also believes himself to be a well informed individual on the ways of women and reassures his female audience before their reading of the work that it contains nothing to offend them. (This is to be determined by the individual.)

Baruh begins Canto I by giving his readers the end of the story, and moves throughout the rest of the cantos by relating to his readers the events that led to the maid Jessy being shamed and marked with the lad Henry's kiss. Baruh explains that the kiss does not ultimately occur because of either Jessy's or Henry's actions, but because of the war that has been raging between the Sylphs and Demons.

The Sylphs were responsible for the protection of women.
          To one, they give a languor in the eye,
          Another, teach the softest way to sigh,
          The Prude, they bid assume an air quite cold,
          The Shrew, they teach the method best to scold;
          The Simpleton is taught by them to please,
          The Dame of fashion how to laugh with ease. (p.33)

The greatest of the Sylphs calls others to protect the fair maid Jessy's lips, feeling that his rival will use Henry and Jessy as a battleground for their war. Baruh then ends this canto with the young woman waking from a peaceful night's rest, unaware of any impish occurrence involving her lips.

In Canto II, we are more thoroughly introduced to the other sacrificial lamb caught in the power struggle between spirits. We are told that the demons who surround him
          …ev'ry trick, and ev'ry frolic blend,
          They teach him how to dress with debonair,
          And ev'ry maiden's lovely smile to share;
          With one to sing, with others dance and play.
          To these seem modest, to those polite, and gay; (p.40)
The leader of these demons also calls his minions to arms around Henry. Through him, Baruh informs the reader that if the demons win this battle involving Henry and Jessy, they will win the war. The demons then go to work placing thoughts of kissing the maid in Henry's head. Upon his waking at the end of the canto, he is enamored with Jessy and is determined to steal that kiss, even if it means death.

Canto III opens with the pair waking to a stormy day, leaving the only excitement to be the fine banquet where Jessy and Henry are seated next to one another. Both groups of the sprites are preparing for battle. The Sylphs are making Jessy blind to Henry's doting (brought on by the demons). Henry attempts to woo Jessy and asks to steal a kiss, saying that he is ill and that nothing else will make him well. (Why is this strangely familiar to many women?) She, in a rather lengthy way, tells him no, and that, should he pursue that kiss he will be ousted by her father and, worse yet, will suffer a woman's wrath. The battle between the spiritual foes ensues and ends with the demons winning and Henry stealing his kiss. The forces then move to new battlefields and leave Jessy crying and Henry apologizing. With this, the story and Baruh's longer works within the volume are complete.

In Baruh's lesser works, consisting of eighty-nine pages, fifty-nine pages contain poems on the broad subject of women. More specifically, the thirty-nine poems that fill these pages discuss loves lost, women he's kissed, maids he has desired to kiss, requests to the maidens to stay, his promise to love the maid forever (although the following poem will contain a different female's name), requests to the maid to leave, concern for a young girl's sadness, the power of women's lips, the power they have with their eyes, the thought that a hard woman should allow men to embrace her, the idea that lips are made for kissing, bees who are lucky to have landed upon a woman's lips, and the discussions that men have about women over pints. With all of this, it is easy to see why Baruh's contemporary critics largely overlooked his better, less-elaborate works. I did the same. It was not until my third reading of the poems that I found that this youthful author did have something to say that was worth reading and discussion. Because so many of his poems about womanly topics are what the critics disliked, I feel that a few of his other works should be given a spotlight.

In "On Music," Baruh discusses music's power in six stanzas. He first asks his audience to acknowledge the power that music has had in their lives. Next, he brings us to hear the music of brave warriors being called to arms. He then fills in the rests of silence at the war's end. In stanza four, we listen to a duet between two lovers, and, in stanza five, we share in the music of the forgotten prisoner in chains (a harmonica comes to mind). He ends by re-emphasizing the power of music.

In Baruh's "Elegy" (which I skimmed over the first two times, thinking that it would concern a deceased woman) we are informed that Baruh had lost a brother to a shipwreck. In his poem, we are given the implication that this brother may have been the favorite child of Baruh's parents — at least in Baruh's mind.
He was so gentle, feeling, young, so good beside,
His father's fondest hope, his mother's darling pride. (p.115)
Perhaps this is why Baruh felt the need to publish — as a way to make up his brother's loss.

In Baruh's "The Jew's Petition," he, like so many of his romantic predecessors and contemporaries, questions social standards. He speaks as a Jewish orphan who suffers greatly, but does not complain. Instead, he asks God to bless those women who have shed tears for his suffering, concluding the poem with very powerful ending lines:
         May the God of us all, when your spirit has fled,
         Reward you tenfold for each tear that you shed;
         May my blessings ascend, those blessings for you,
         Where no difference is made between Christian and Jew.   (p.118)

Baruh ends his publication with the poem "To The Reader." In it he mirrors his struggle in writing with a ship fighting against a raging sea as it tries to reach the shore. He already knows the critics' reply to his work.
         Before his eyes arise the muses' charms;
         His mind aspiring higher, higher strays,
         And round his brows he feels the twining bays,
         When lo! a Critic stops his aerial flight,
         And stamps his brightest day,—the darkest night. (p.144).

I strive (but fear I strive in vain) to please,
(And if I do not, them my strains shall cease.) (p.145)
Despite these fears and insecurities, he leaves his readers with gratitude for his ability to write and with the friendship they offer him through their willingness to read.

Throughout this book, Baruh admits, he wrote with "metrical arrangements [that] are particularly faulty" (p.ix) He admits that he was well aware of his lack of obedience to the rules of poetry at the time. Along with his lack of metrical standards, he also lacks any pattern in rhyme. It changes with the wind (and probably the days on which he wrote). Perhaps he was hoping that the stories told would make up for his lack of structure. Had the majority of them not been about women, his others may have been noticed and the critics may have better accepted this youthful writer.