German Life and Letters 41:4 July 1988 0016-8777 $2.00

WERTHER, THE GOOD SAMARITAN AND T H E PHARISEES

COLIN WALKER

The last words of Goethe’s Die Leiden des jungen Werther, ‘Kein Geistlicher hat ihn begleitet’, form one of this novel’s most telling sentences. * Wertheis coffin is carried late at night to his last resting-place by workmen and it is followed only by some of his friends. It was not indeed the practice of eighteenth-century clergy to give suicides a Christian burial. It would seem, though, that Werther is buried in a Christian churchyard, and that he is laid to rest in a remote corner, away from the rest of the graves.

Goethe’s concluding sentence has been taken over word for word from the end of the penultimate paragraph of the report dated 2 November 1772 which his friend Christian Kestner wrote on the suicide at Wetzlar of Karl Wilhelm Jerusalem, a report which in 1774 was to inspire much of the description of Werther’s death and of its aftermath. There is the difference that at least a cross was carried at the front ofJerusalem5 funeral procession, whereas there is no reference to any Christian ritual at Werther’s funeral.2

Probably he would not have had it otherwise. Werther dies as Christmas approaches, and he knows he can have no part in its festivities. In his last months he becomes increasingly estranged from humanity in general but from the clergy in particular. And a man who feels no need for Christ as an intermediary between himself and God (VI, 86) could dispense with the ministrations of the Christian Church.

In his last letter Werther does indeed ask that he should be buried in the churchyard, though at an inconspicuous site: ‘Ich will frommen Christen nicht zumuten, ihren Korper neben einen armen Unglucklichen zu legen’ (VI, 122-3). But then with one of those rapid oscillations which increasingly characterize his final letters Werther wishes that after all he could be buried not in a churchyard, but by the wayside or at some remote so that his grave would be a perpetual reproach to those Christians who consider them- selves to be exceptionally pious: ‘Ach, ich wollte, ihr begriibt mich am Wege oder im einsamen Tale, da5 Priester und Levit vor dem bezeichneten Steine sich segnend voriibergingen und der Samariter eine Trane weinte’ (VI, 123).

The Good Samaritan whom Werther imagines is no ‘frommer Christ’. Rather he is a religious outsider, perhaps something of a heretic (as he was in the original story in Luke X, at least from a Jewish viewpoint). Wertheis Samaritan can weep a tear of compassion for the man who has died by his own hand, and he does not feel bound to share the orthodox Christian viewpoint that suicide is anathema. But Werther has made a very significant adaptation of Christ’s parable. There the Samaritan goes to the aid of a man lying injured after an attack by highway robbers, and the Priest and the Levite who pass by on the other side are indifferent to the suffering of a stranger: they do not

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want to get involved with the victim of bandits. Or perhaps they really believe that he is dead and are afraid of being contamihated by his body. But Werther‘s Priest and Levite would reject and condemn the victim (and certainly Werther sees himself as a victim), and they would bless themselves as they passed by, keeping their distance from this moral outcaste. Presumably they would cross themselves out of fear of the accursed place, and out of fear of being contaminated by the ‘sin’ that had brought Werther to his wayside grave. In short they would have one of the characteristics so often ascribed in the Gospels to the Pharisees: they would dissociate themselves from one whom they considered to be their moral inferior.

A number of scholars have emphasized recently how Werther appeals for compassion, ‘Mitleid’, both for himself and for others, and how he himself dis- plays such compassion for those who have fallen, socially and morally, by the ~ a y s i d e . ~ I should like to look rather at the negative side of Werther‘s concern for the unfortunate - his outrage at those who would pass judgement upon them.

This is not the place to delve into the many controversies about the Pharisees - such as who exactly they were, how many there were of them, where they were especially active, or how influential they were. Nor would it be proper to discuss how reliable are the sources of our knowledge of them - whether in the New Testament, the works of Josephus, or rabbinical writings. Numerous historians, both Christian and Jewish, would argue for instance that the severe condemnation of the Pharisees (that ‘plague of vipers’) which we find in parts of the Gospels, and especially in those of St Matthew and St Luke, is probably the product of divisions within the Early Church, and that the Gospel accounts do not necessarily represent either the true functions and status of the Pharisees in Jesus’ time, or indeed the attitude of the historical Jesus towards them.5 Goethe, like other writers of his period, does not indulge in this sort of ‘form criticism’, and for the purposes of this examination we shall have to do as he did and simply take over from the Gospels the largely negative view of the Pharisees which they contain. The young Goethe seems to have shared the traditional Christian perception of the Pharisees which still prevailed in the eighteenth century, and he saw them as moral rigorists, as authoritarian and hypocritical.

Goethe was far from censorious towards Jerusalem and was deeply moved by his suicide, although they had not been more than distant acquaintances, even in their student days together in Leipzig. He had been equally affected by what had turned out to be the mistaken news a few weeks earlier of the suicide of one of his circle of close friends in Wetzlar, August Friedrich von GouC. Goethe reacted in a markedly similar way to the true report about Jerusalam’s death and to the false rumour about GouC - with what seems to be a spontaneous expression of sympathy for the victim, followed by a prolonged outburst of indignation against those who might condemn the victim or who might have driven him to his death.

At the beginning of November 1772 Goethe wrote from Frankfurt to Kestner:

Der ungluckliche Jerusalem. Die Nachricht war mir schrocklich und unerwartet [ . . . I . Der ungluckliche. Aber die Teufel, welches sind die

WERTHER, THE GOOD SAMARITAN AND THE PHARISEES

schandlichen Menschen die nichts geniessen denn Spreu der Eitelkeit, und Gotzen Lust in ihrem Herzen haben, und Gotzendie[n]st predigen, und hemmen gute Natur, und iibertreiben und verderben die Kraffte sind schuld an diesem Ungliick an unserm Ungluck hohle sie der Teufel ihr Bruder. Wenn der verfluchte Pfaff sein Vater nicht schuld ist so verzeih mirs Gott dass ich ihm Wunsche er moge den Hals brechen wie Eli.6

It is difficult to be quite clear about Goethe’s general targets here. In tone the attack is at first reminiscent of the polemics which Jeremiah directed against the false prophets of Israel (Jeremiah XXIII. 1-40). More specifically, Goethe has in his sights the well-known Enlightenment theologian Johann Friedrich Wilhelm Jerusalem. Later in Dichtung und Wuhrheit Goethe refers to him as the ‘frei und zart denkende Gottesgelehrte’ (IX, 544), but here Goethe is giving vent to that anticlericalism which marks so many of his writings in the early 1770s’ - in for instance Got2 uon Berlichingm (where the monk Bruder Martin deplores ‘die Jhmerlichkeiten eines Standes, der die besten Triebe, durch die wir werden, wachsen und gedeihen, aus miherstandner Begierde, Gott niiher zu riicken, verdammt’ (IV, go)), or in the satires, such as the fragment ‘Der ewige Jude’ (1774), where Christ on returning to the earth finds that repre- sentatives of numerous churches ignore his example and have perverted his teachings.* One type of clergyman who does have Goethe’s approval is the unassuming rural pastor of his ‘Brief des Pastors zu * * * an den neuen Pastor * * *’ (1 773), which owes much to the ‘Profession de foi du vicaire savoyard’ in Rousseau’s Emile (1762). Goethe’s pastor is devoted above all to his flock, and he advocates a practical Christianity which is simple, undogmatic and almost all-embracing in its tolerance. But he does inveigh against those amongst his fellow-clergy who, he thinks, have become estranged from the person and teachings of Jesus and who indeed spurn anyone who would try to be a true imitator of Christ. Such a disciple ‘wird einen Unnamen am Halse haben, ehe er sich’s versieht, und eine christliche Gemeine macht ein Kreuz vor ihm’. And the pastor goes on to warn against the ‘false prophets’ in terms which echo Christ’s admonitions in Matthew VII. 15:

Diese nichtswiirdige Schmeichler nennen sich Christen, und unter ihrem Schaafspelz sind sie reissende Wolfe, sie predigen eine glanzende Sitten- lehre und einen tugendhaften Wandel, und schmdern das Verdienst Christi wo sie konnen.g

It seems likely that Goethe felt that similar moralists had hounded Karl Wilhelm Jerusalem to his death.

Shortly before his inquiry about Jerusalem Goethe had asked Kestner about the supposed death of Gout:

Schreiben Sie mir doch gleich wie sich die Nachrichten von Goue kon- firmiren. Ich ehre auch solche That, und bejammre die Menschheit und lass alle Scheiskerle von Philistern Tobacksrauchs Betrachtungen driiber machen, und sagen: da habt ihr’s.l0

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396 WERTHER, THE GOOD SAMARITAN AND THE PHARISEES

For the Goethe of this period there was often a close correlation between the philistine and the Pharisee. As he used it at this time the term ‘philistine’ had normally more social and moral connotations than aesthetic ones. A philistine was petty-minded and narrow-minded, and like the Pharisee in the temple he was complacent about his own moral rectitude and only too delighted to find fault in others.“

At the beginning of 1772 Goethe wrote to Herder of his plan to write a play about Socrates, a plan which owed much to his reading of Hamann’s S0kratisch.e Dcnkwiisdigkiitm. For Goethe, Socrates was a genius, a ‘philosophischer Heldengeist’, and like many before him, right back to the Early Church, he saw a parallel between the persecuted Socrates and the crucified Christ. l 2 (In this respect he was rather at variance with Rousseau’s vicar. 13) Goethe found in the Socrates story

den gottlichen Beruf zum Lehrer der Menschen, die c ~ o u u ~ a v des ~ E T ( Y V O ~ L T E , ~ * die Menge die gafft, die wenigen denen Ohren sind zu horen, l5 das Pharisaische Philistertum der Meliten und Aniiten.I6

As Werther sees him the ‘Philister’ is certainly a censorious person, like the man whom Werther imagines rebuking the lover for extravagance (VI, 15). The stuffy doctor, the ‘sehr dogmatische Drahtpuppe’ who accuses Werther of spoiling the children, is not referred to as a philistine, but he is a similar type, one whose attitude is far removed from that of Christ, the ‘Lehrer der Menschen’ (VI, 30).

Likewise Werther does not believe that it is only the clergy who behave like Pharisees. This is evident in that most revealing debate with Albert in Book I, 12 August letter, where Werther propounds in effect a situation ethic, and attacks all the ‘verniinftige Menschen’ (his present company not excepted), who would have everyone adhere to generally applicable laws, regardless of the circumstances. Such moral rigorists, as he sees them, have no compassion for those weaker brethren who in time of trial fall prey to some irresistible tempta- tion, or to some passion or frenzy:

DaB ihr Menschen, [. . . ] urn von einer Sache zu reden, gleich sprechen miibt: ‘das ist toricht, das ist Mug, das ist gut, das ist bos!’ Und was will das alles heikn? Habt ihr deswegen die innern Verhiiltnisse einer Handlung erforscht? WiBt ihr mit Bestimmtheit die Ursachen zu entwickeln, warum sie geschah, warum sie geschehen muate? Hattet ihr das, ihr wiirdet nicht so eilfertig mit euren Urteilen sein. (IV, 46)

(It would seem that one ought to consider why such an action was inevitable, but not whether it was inevitable.)

In his attacks on universalist Aufldarung ethics, as he swings in blithe inconsistency from a particular situation to a general moral judgement, or from a general moral judgement to a particular situation, Werther is talking, as he says, ‘aus ganzem Herzen’, and he is not at all amenable to what he calls the insignificant platitudes being offered by his opponents (VI, 47).” Thus when we consider some of the ‘victims’ whom Werther cites to Albert as examples

WERTHER, THE GOOD SAMARITAN AND THE PHARISEES 397

of people who should not be judged according to any moral norm we find some of the most extravagant statements that Werther makes anywhere in his letters.

A defensible case might be made out for his first example:

Es ist wahr, der Diebstahl ist ein Laster: aber der Mensch, der, um sich und die Seinigen vom gegenwartigen Hungertode zu erretten, auf Raub ausgeht, verdient der Mitleiden oder Strafe? (VI, 46).

He deserves pity, of course, but does he merit any blame? That surely depends on the circumstances of the theft (and Werther offers us no clue about these). Could this person preserve himself and his family only by stealing? That seems to be the implication, if not a wholly convincing one. Whom does he rob - someone who has more than enough to spare, or another starving family like his own? It is not in fact so easy for Werther to practise what he preaches - to consider individual cases and special circumstances and to avoid general precepts.

His second example of how unapt a moral norm can be is breathtaking, and it is not a thought which is going through his mind when later he kisses Lotte: ‘Wer hebt den ersten Stein auf gegen den Ehemann, der im gerechten Zorne sein untreues Weib und ihren nichtswurdigen Verfuhrer aufopfert?’ (VI, 46). There is an obvious but highly inappropriate reference here to the story usually inserted in John VII. 53-VIII. 11 where Jesus was put to the test:

The doctors of the law and the Pharisees brought in a woman caught committing adultery. Making her stand out in the middle they said to him, ‘Master, this woman was caught in the very act of adultery. In the Law Moses has laid down that such women are to be stoned. What do you say about it?’ (VIII. 3-5).

And we are told that Jesus replied: ‘That one of you who is faultless shall throw the first stone’ (VIII. 7). One by one her accusers went away, and finally Jesus asked the woman:

‘Where are they? Has no one condemned you?’ She answered, ‘No one, sir’. Jesus said, ‘Nor do I condemn you; you may go, do not sin again’.

The remarkable feature of Werther’s example of the woman taken in adultery is that in his version it is the affronted husband who has first lifted his hand - in ‘rightful anger’ - against both the guilty wife and her lover. Whereas Christ saved the life of the adulteress Werther would try to exculpate the murderer of an adulteress. In effect Werther is asking: ‘Who will lift the first stone in judgement against the man who has lifted the first stone?’

Addressing Albert directly, Werther rebukes those who would stand by, dispassionately observing someone who has lost self-control:

Ihr sittlichen Menschen! Scheltet den Trinker, verabscheut den Unsinningen, geht vorbei wie der Priester und dankt Gott wie der Pharisaer, dai3 er euch nicht gemacht hat wie einen von diesen. (VI, 47)

(VIII. 10-1 1)

398 WERTHER. THE GOOD SAMARITAN AND THE PHARISEES

This is the one explicit reference where Werther links the Priest who walks by and the Pharisee who prays in the temple (Luke VIII. 10-14), and by implication the Priest and the Pharisee are contrasted with the Good Samaritan, who is one who offers help and sympathy instead of passing judgement. There is no doubt that Werther sees himself in the role of the Good Samaritan, in that he has understanding for such victims, and would go to their aid. And he would associate himself with them, for he too, he says, has known what it is like to be mad with passion (VI, 47) (though he does he not go so far as to thank God that he is not like the Pharisee).

When he defiantly champions the morally unorthodox he is putting into practice that ideal of compassion for the social outcast which he advocates so vehemently to Albert. In many respects Werther casts himself in the role of Christ,’” and he may indeed be consciously imitating Christ in associating with the ‘publicans and sinners’, with those who would scandalize the pharisee^.'^ The obvious example is the case of the farm-hand, the figure inserted in the 1787 edition. But in identifying with this young man Werther shows a sympathy which is quite different from Christ’s compassion for the woman taken in adultery. Werther relates the farm-hand’s account of how his advances to his widow employer were at first encouraged, but how she eventually spurned him: he then tried to force himself upon her (VI, 77). Werther can still write of the ‘purity’ of such love, faithfulness and passion. (Perhaps it is no wonder that here again he finds himself lost for words: traditional moral terms merely coarsen, he says (VI, 78).) Even when the farm-hand is so driven by passion as to murder his rival, and when Werther is forced to concede at least intel- lectually that society has the right to judge the man for the crime, Werther still cannot find it in his heart to declare him guilty (VI, 97).

Not that Werther is always the embodiment of tolerance and compassion. He is quick to criticize all sorts of people with whom he cannot identify, and not just the Pharisees, and he wallows in fantasies of violence against them. His bitterest anger is aimed at disapproving rationalists who scorn the faith of simple people for its irrationality or superstition. Thus Werther wishes death upon the person who would mock a sick pilgrim vainly seeking a cure, and that death is to be ‘trostlos’ (VI, 90) - there is to be no Good Samaritan to offer him some comfort when he needs it. The ‘Wortkrher auf [ihren] Polstern’ (VI, 90) are to be given no mercy.*O

Werther does not attack Albert with quite such vehemence, but as we have seen from his letter of 12 August he does make the implied (and unjust) accusation that Albert’s viewpoint is pharisaic. When berating Albert for lack of sympathy for people carried away by an uncontrollable passion Werther asserts: ‘Nur insofern wir mitempfinden, haben wir die Ehre, von einer Sache zu reden’ (VI, 48). Indeed he would seem to be inferring that only those who have known some emotional stress have the right to comment on those whose passions have driven them into some anti-social action: only those who have known frenzy can have sympathetic insight into the minds of the frenzied. Certainly Werther feels that his misfortune drives him to have sympathy with the unfortunate (VI, 78). ‘Der gelassene verniinftige Mensch’ (VI, 48), the

WERTHER, THE GOOD SAMARITAN AND THE PHARISEES 399

imperturbable rationalist (as Werther sees Albert) will observe and pass lofty judgement from a safe psychological distance, but without true understanding. Thus any moralising counsel such a person would offer some unfortunate individual infected by a ‘Krankheit zum Tode’ and contemplating suicide would be bound to fall on deaf ears (VI, 48).

Goethe did make it plain that he expected his readers to sympathize with his unfortunate hero, but it would be dangerous to assume that he felt that such sympathy could only be shown by those able to identify with Werther to the extent of sharing something of his morbid proclivities.

At the outset the fictional editor addresses two types of reader: first the vast majority, apparently, those who are more fortunate than Werther, but who can understand his sufferings and find admiration and love and pity for him, and secondly the sad individual whose lot is similar to Werther’s:

Und du gute Seele, die du eben den Drang fuhlst wie er, schopfe Trost aus seinen Leiden, und lal3 das Biichlein dein Freund sein, wenn du aus Geschick oder eigener Schuld keinen nahern finden kannst. (VI, 7)*’

The first group of readers are the compassionate, who will have that tolerance and warmth of heart that characterize the Good Samaritan. For the second type of reader it is the novel Werther itself which is to take on the role of the Good Samaritan, as it offers succour to the one who is isolated and outcast. If this reader does receive some salutary ‘friendship’ from the novel he will not share the despair which afflicted Werther at the end (VI, 123) and he will not be isolated, as Werther was at the hour of his greatest peril, when the pistols were handed over, and when even Lotte passed by on the other side, reluctant to get involved in the crisis which she suspected (VI, 120).

For the second edition of his novel in 1775 Goethe appended a four-line motto at the beginning of each book, and the second appeals again to the com- passionate reader:

Du beweinst, du liebst ihn, liebe Seele, Rettest sein Gedachtnis von der Schmach; Sieh, dir winkt sein Geist aus seiner Hohle: Sei ein Mann und folge mir nicht nach. (VI, 528)

Usually attention is focussed on the admonition in the last line, which has often been seen as a sign that Goethe already wished to dissociate himself publicly from Werther, at least to some degree. This motto does make more explicit what is especially evident in the 1787 edition: that one can have pity and understanding for Werther without endorsing his judgements or sharing his feelings. In the first two lines Goethe appeals again to the sympathetic reader, who will intervene to defend poor Werther’s reputation against his detractors. A warm-hearted act of this kind would certainly be in keeping with the concept of the Good Samaritan as one whose compassion moves him to act in defiance of moral condemnation by the Pharisees - the Pharisees in this case would be those denigrators of Werther who found his story and his example to be morally dangerous, such as Pastor Goeze of Hamburg, who

400 WERTHER, THE GOOD SAMARITAN AND THE PHARISEES

now made vigorous public protests, or the authorities in Leipzig, Vienna and Copenhagen, who had the book banned.22

Certainly in Werther‘s case the danger was that his compassion for those who fell prey to their own passions would be so turned into outrage against those who set themselves up in Pharisaic judgement that pity for the offender could lead him to condone the offence and to share mentally in that offence. And there could well have been times when the young Goethe felt the same. When he heard the report of GouCs suicide it could have been indignation at the expected reac- tions of the ‘Scheiskerle von Philistern’ that led him to say ‘ich ehre auch solche That’ - though he added the hope that he himself would never distress his friends with such It would seem that Goethe introduced the ‘Bauernbursche’ episode into the 1787 version of Werthcr in order to highlight precisely the danger of such transference of emotion. Werther found it easy to voice Christ’s challenge to the Pharisees: Who will lift the first stone?’, but not so easy to take account of the command which followed: ‘Go and do not sin again’.

NOTES

Codhes Werkc (Hamburger Ausgabe), sixth edition, Hamburg 1965, VI, 124. This edition has the 1787 version of the novel. All subsequent references in the text to Goethe’s works are to this edition, except where otherwise stated. Biblical quotations are from the New English Bible. ‘ Kestner’s report is cited in Kurt Rothmann (ed.), Johunn Wolfgang Goefhc, Die Leidm des jungm W n i h s : Erluuhungm und Dokumnfe, Stuttgart 1971, pp. 91-9. On the successful agitation against a refusal to have Jerusalem buried in church grounds see p. 59.

This was still the more usual fate of suicides in the eighteenth century. See Bertram S. Puckle, Funeral Cusfomr. Their Origin and Deuclopmnf, London 1926, pp. 151-4; Klaus Oettinger, ‘“Eine Krankheit zum Tode”. Zum Skandal um Werthers Selbstmord’, DU, 28 (1976), 55-74 (especially

’ See for example Erdmann Waniek, ‘Wnihn lesen und Werther a l s Leser’, Gocfhe Yearbook, 1 (1982), 51-92; A Haverkamp, ‘Illusion und Empathie: Die Struktur der “teilnehmenden Lektiire” in den Lcidm Wnihcrs’, in Erzahlfrschung. Ein Sypos ion, ed. Eberhard L k m e r t , Stuttgart 1982, pp. 243-68; Michael Bell, Goethes W n i k Identification and Judgement’, in Thc Smfimmf ofRenlip. Trufh ofFecling in fhc European Novel, London 1983, pp. 92-107; Ulrich Fiilleborn, ‘“Die Leiden des jungen Werthers” zwischen aufklarerischer Sozialethik und Biichners Mitleidspoesie’, in Godhc in Kontcxi, ed. Wolfgang Wittkowski, Tiibingen 1984, pp. 20-34, with subsequent discussion,

On the Pharisees see John Bowker, Jesus and fhc Pharisees, Cambridge 1973; Jacob Neusner, From Politics fo Pic& The Emngmcc ofphurisaic Judnisrn, second edition, New York 1979, including Morton Smith, The Pharisees in the Gospels’, pp. 155-9, and J. A. Ziesler, ‘Luke and the Pharisees’,

57-60).

pp. 34-41.

pp. 161-72. Max Morris (ed.), Der junge Gocfhc, 6 vols, Leipzig 1910, 111, 8.

’ See Peter Meinhold, Coefhc zur Gcschichtc dcs Chrishfurns, Freiburg 1958, especially pp. 3-41. Dn junge Godhc, IV, 48-57 (especially pp. 53-7).

Dn jungc Gocthc, 111, 119. 10 & JUngC ’ Goefhc, 111, 6. ‘ I On Goethe’s concept of the philistine, see Estelle Morgan, ‘Goethe and the Philistine’, MLR, 53 (1958), 374-9. On philistinism in Wnihn, see Rolf Christian Zimmerrnann, Dar Welfbild des

WERTHER, THE GOOD SAMARITAN AND THE PHARISEES 40 1

jungm Coefhc. Sfudim ZUT hcrmdischm Trudifion &s dnrfschm 18. Jahrhundnts, 2 vols, Munich 1969-79,

See E. Benz, ‘Christus und Sokrates in der alten Kirche’, Zeifschntfur die ncufcstumenflichc Wissmschujf, 43 (1950-51), 195-224.

I s Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Emil , ou & I’iducafion, ed. FranGois and Pierre Richard, Paris 1957,

I‘ The call to repentance is almost certainly a reference to the message of John the Baptist and then ofJesus. See Matthew 111. 2-12, where John particularly urges the Pharisees and Sadducees to repent, and Matthew IV. 17, Mark I. 15.

There are several references in the Gospels to those ‘who have ears to hear’ (Matthew XI. 15; XIII. 9, 43; Mark IV. 9, 23; Luke VIII. 8; XIV. 35), but see especially Mark VII. 16, where Christ is addressing the crowds, and the Pharisees in particular, and where even his disciples have difficulty in understanding his departure from the Jewish dietary laws. l6 Dn junge Gocfhe, 11, 120.

11, 184-93.

pp. 379-80.

See Hans Reiss, Goethe’s Noucls, London and New York 1969, pp. 26-8. I* See Reiss, pp. 39-40.

See for example Matthew IX. 10-13; Mark 11. 15-17; Luke V. 29-32, XV. 1-7.

?o See also Werther‘s derision of the pastor‘s sickly wife, whose study of rationalist biblical criticism is disturbed by noisy children (VI, 81). ” See Havercamp, p. 257.

*’ See Oettinger, pp. 60-61; Klaus Scherpe, Wnihn und Wnfhmirkung. Zum Syndrom 6urgnlichn Ccscllschujf im 18. Juhrhundnf, Bad Homburg 1970, especially pp. 72-86. Scherpe reprints Goeze’s 1775 attack on Wmfhn (pp. 173-88), in which Goeze asks if the Samaritan shed his tears ‘iiber einen Menschen der an sich selbst zum Morder geworden war, oder iiber einen, der ohne seine Schuld unter die Morder gefallen war‘ (pp. 183f.). ” Dn junge Gocfhe, 111, 6.