Setting Dostoevsky Straight: Moral Murder and Critical Aesthetics in Robert Musil’s Der Mann ohne Eigenschaften

In several diary entries from around 1920, Robert Musil, a trained scientist, makes some discursive remarks on how to study art scientifically. His search for art’s fundamental principles begins with a straightforward question: “Ist eine wissenschaftliche Ästhetik möglich? Von dieser Frage darf uns zunächst nur interessieren: ist mit wissenschaftlicher Eindeutigkeit festzustellen, ob ein Kunstwerk gut oder schlecht ist” (Tagebücher 447). To find an answer to this question, Musil analyzes his own responses to specific novels. He tries to decide whether various texts strike him as pleasant, thoughtful, or boring, and then wonders whether his reactions are unique or universal. More generally, though, Musil simply ponders the possibilities of aesthetic captivation:

Wenn ich Raskolnikow lese, ergreifen mich Raskolnikow und Dostojewski; wenn ich die Aufzeichnungen des Malte Laurids Brigge lese, ergreift mich nur Rilke; wenn ich Hannele lese, ergreift mich nur Hannele; wenn ich Mdme. Bovari lese, ergreift mich Mme. Bovari und ein unkonkretes Drittes; wenn ich die Kleine Stadt lese, ergreift mich dieses Dritte.

(447)

For Musil, Fyodor Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment offers a most captivating literary performance. The novel does so, Musil goes on to say, because it compels him to acknowledge both its author and its protagonist as if they were acquaintances of his. While this is a somewhat odd reaction to a fictional work, Musil’s comments do point to Dostoevsky’s high ranking in his list of authors. That he singles out Crime and Punishment as especially capable of producing a reader’s emotional involvement implies, according to Musil’s view, that he also considers this text to be especially good. Indeed, his diaries indicate that he thinks very well of Dostoevsky (173, 447, 479, 483, 554, 777, 800, 864, 930, 953, 964). Scholars have not explored Musil’s relationship to Dostoevsky extensively, and the little work that has been done emphasizes Musil’s passive reception and appropriation of the Russian author. This article argues instead that Musil’s Der Mann ohne Eigenschaften is also unexpectedly critical of Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment and that his criticisms are crucial to the discourse on morality in his novel. The line of argument chosen here situates this article more in the area of literary history than in a discourse on moral philosophy in any strict sense.

Only rarely has Dostoevsky’s relevance to Musil’s work received extended attention. In 1994, for instance, Josef Strutz used Musil’s diaries, essays, and fictional texts to offer convincing evidence for a complex, concrete connection between the two writers. According to Strutz, this connection made apparent some general similarities between Der Mann ohne Eigenschaften and Dostoevsky’s Demons, as Strutz argued that both texts attempt to narrate large-scale cultural change by addressing some of the same issues (stupidity, love, pessimism, morality). Strutz’s assessment of the relationship focusses exclusively on points of influence and similarity: “Von den Romanciers und Novellisten des 19. und 20. Jahrhunderts gibt es wenige, deren Einfluß auf Robert Musil mit dem zu vergleichen wäre, den Dostojewskij auf ihn ausgeübt hat” (225). For Strutz, Dostoevsky’s influence provides the basis for an analysis of conceptual correspondences between Musil and Dostoevsky. More recently, Karl Corino – building on Strutz – has drawn attention to several instances in Musil’s autobiographical and essayistic work that express his admiration for Dostoevsky, noting in particular the Russian author’s importance to the younger Musil (139).

These discussions are significant, but less than comprehensive. Strutz surveys many different points of contact, but does not provide as much detailed textual analysis as the subject matter warrants. Corino does not account for the role Dostoevsky plays in Der Mann ohne Eigenschaften. Most important, both critics implicitly figure Musil as a passive recipient and eager appropriator of Dostoevsky’s work. They focus only on what Musil quite possibly learned from Dostoevsky and on what makes the two writers alike. Drawing attention to these features of the relationship is valuable and appropriate. But focussing exclusively on them distorts Musil’s interactions with Dostoevsky and leads to an inaccurate portrayal of Musil...