Anna Karenina

Levin is a prosperous nobleman who farms on his family’s estate outside Moscow. When the novel opens, Levin has come to Moscow intent on proposing to Kitty Scherbatsky, Dolly Oblonksy’s youngest sister. He and Stiva—Dolly’s husband—have known each other much of their lives, but are unlikely friends as Levin dislikes urban living and much of what constituted modernity in tsarist Russia. He does not understand Oblonsky’s job or the office culture around it, and seems particularly uncomfortable with the social rituals around proposing marriage. Levin is an introvert with some contrarian tendencies: He disdains the new institutions in the countryside, such as the provincial assemblies, and dislikes making social calls.

Levin’s great passion is his farm and finding a way to make it profitable without exploiting the peasants who are newly legally emancipated and not his individual property. He frequently laments the difficulties with getting his peasant workforce to adopt modern methods and new technology. If Stiva is the epitome of the modern noble in the city, Levin is the illustration of the state of rural politics after peasant emancipation.

Levin’s other preoccupation is his loneliness—both spiritual and personal. He cannot decide whether he truly believes in God and is especially tormented by this in his family relationships. Levin is thus the canvas for Tolstoy’s interest in the relationship between morality, spirituality, and the self. His brother Nikolai, once deeply devout, has become an atheist and a radical, and is dying of tuberculosis. Nikolai’s tragedy haunts Levin, suggesting that he recognizes that he is personally in danger of spiritual or personal destitution unless he acquires a purpose. He is devastated by Kitty’s rejection, silently telling her, “I hate everybody, including you and myself” (53), and he consistently regards her refusal of him—and her love of Vronsky—as his greatest humiliation. Levin eventually comes to accept that farming, while a great solace to him, is no substitute for his longing for a family, and he cannot abandon his love for Kitty no matter how much he wishes it away.

He also realizes that mortality is an inescapable part of life, so he cannot truly devote himself to intellectual pursuits unless he accepts the reality of death and its attendant spiritual uncertainties. Like Anna, Levin goes to Europe but finds no answers, and, again like Anna, is continually reckoning with death and his place in the world. Tellingly, Anna recognizes that there are reasons Kitty loved both Levin and Vronsky—as though in a better world she too, might have found a more stable partner.

Matured by her ordeals after Vronsky abandons her for Anna, Kitty becomes Levin’s emotional and spiritual partner, though he remains restless and often unhappy with himself. He finds himself more able to accept his brother’s death when Kitty emerges as a support to him. He remains a social oddity, unable to accept the casual flirtation of a houseguest toward Kitty since he is still haunted by the memory of her love for Vronsky. All the other characters mock him for this, but Kitty accepts it, which is a sign the two are well matched in some ways.

Levin experiences the city as a corrupting influence, culminating most obviously in his meeting with Anna, who Kitty still detests for her role in her unhappiness. But Levin is anchored by the domesticity Anna rejects, finding new contentment after his son’s birth and return to country life. It is there, not in the city, where he experiences his spiritual epiphany: that he does believe in a deity and can accept Christian principles as his life’s moral purpose. Levin has moments of despair and even considers death by suicide, but his choice of life, and marriage, allows Tolstoy to highlight his beliefs about where real fulfillment lies.

Dolly’s youngest sister, Kitty, is 18 at the start of the novel and is a successful debutante expected to marry well. Beautiful and charming, Levin notes that “what was always striking in her, and especially her smile, which always transported Levin into a world where he felt softened and moved to tenderness” (29). She is at first in love with Vronsky, not realizing he has no intention of marrying her. When she is introduced, she is young, carefree, and certain in the regard of society. She wishes Anna to join her at a ball, preoccupied only with the joys of being young and wealthy. She is drawn to Anna, which Tolstoy uses to contrast them: Anna is sober, serious, with her early youth behind her, and has a maturity Kitty lacks.

Kitty realizes her refusal of Levin was a mistake and becomes physically ill from the despair of Vronsky’s rejection. Her family takes her abroad for a rest cure—a common choice for the wealthy at the time. At the resort in Germany, Kitty becomes interested in religion and charitable works, inspired by a friend she makes there. But she realizes her efforts are partly selfish and do not yield meaningful results, and that her path is elsewhere. This effort to pursue sincerity, meaning, and a purpose for her life mirrors Levin’s efforts to do the same, serving as foreshadowing for their eventual reunion and happy marriage.

Kitty and Levin eventually emerge as the contrast not only to Anna and Vronsky, but also Dolly and Stiva. There is no question of infidelity between them and they honestly converse about money, parenting, and daily life. Kitty sees Levin as the ideal role model for her son and admires his care for others—there is no contempt for him in her. Kitty and Anna meet once more just before the latter’s death by suicide, and Kitty finds herself pitying her former rival even as she still condemns her choices. Kitty journeys from youth to maturity, and by the novel’s end, possesses some of the qualities she once envied in Anna.

A young cavalry officer, Vronsky comes from a wealthy family with every advantage possible for a man in tsarist Russia. He is flattered by the knowledge that Kitty is in love with him, but has no intention of marrying her and does not understand that her conservative parents expect this given how much time they spend together.

Vronsky is impetuous and headstrong: He pursues Anna without hesitation or regret, and knows that in his circle of privileged aristocrats, such romantic affairs are encouraged. Though he is more personally touched by his feelings for Anna, he fails her in some of the same ways he does Kitty: He does not fully understand the emotional consequences for Anna of losing her son, or how dependent she is once she has resolved to no longer live with Karenin. Though Vronsky is faithful to and solicitous of Anna’s comfort and well-being, he does not necessarily show more concern for her inner life than Karenin does. Rather than acknowledging the loss Anna would also suffer, Vronsky imagines that divorce will solve their problems.

Tolstoy uses Vronsky to illustrate the key values of the aristocratic class: social position, power, and relative autonomy. Though he reluctantly comes to acknowledge that his own liberal attitude toward marriage will not be accepted, thanks to the shelter of his wealth and his gender, he does not suffer for it as Anna does. Vronsky is something of a dilletante: In the course of the novel which span only a few years of his life, he takes up horse racing, art, and land management. This is in contrast to Levin, whose devotions are singular and constant throughout the text. Vronsky’s failures in his hobbies partly echo his failures with Anna: He causes the death of his favorite horse during a race—a possible foreshadowing of his role in Anna’s death. His failure to paint her portrait reflects his failure to entirely grasp her true nature and what she needs from him. Finally, his failures on the estate reflect his inability to fully resolve Anna’s difficulties, and perhaps indicate Tolstoy’s own belief that the loss of a real connection with the land was a tragedy for the nobility.

Vronsky’s increasing resentment of Anna’s jealousy and its limitations on his freedom underscore that however much he may love her, he is also devoted to his own autonomy, which he considers key to his masculinity. Increasingly, he seems to argue that without marriage and more children, his relative advantages over her mean little. His devastation in the wake of Anna’s death sets him up as a tragic figure, and underlines the extent of his real devotion to her. His decision to abandon his daughter and fight in the Balkans—where it is heavily implied that he will die—echoes the significance of his shared dream with Anna: Though their waking selves dream of a future, their subconscious minds show them that their relationship will end only in death.

Karenin is Anna’s husband: a senior official in the tsarist government and several years her senior. He is devoted to order, rationality, and study, and shows little concern for emotions. Tolstoy frequently describes him in terms of his high voice and tendency to lecture. He is the only major character who never visits the Russian countryside, which is perhaps Tolstoy’s way of further underscoring that he is not overtly masculine according to the mores of his society. Karenin is devoted to his own image and the idea of respectability. Though he is obviously very upset at the idea of Anna’s infidelity, his outward insistence that social propriety be observed is far more persistent. Karenin is haunted by the idea that he is in no position to win a duel with Vronsky: His admission that by some standards of the aristocracy, he is both no prize and a failure of a man.

Despite Tolstoy’s relative attachment to traditional marriage and religious values, Karenin is rarely a sympathetic figure. It is easy for the reader to see why Anna wants a different life, and even his forgiveness of Anna as she is near death due to childbirth complications is temporary. Karenin admits this forgiveness was easy to grant at the time because he thought Anna would not survive. His turn toward religion in response to her final rejection is cast more as a maneuver to feel better about himself after his social disgrace than as a sincere conversion. He is clearly drawn to Lydia Ivanovna’s sympathy for him, which may be its own form of emotional infidelity though their relationship is otherwise platonic.

For all that Anna loathes and fears about him, Karenin does not feel his own power: Any change to his marriage is an unacceptable loss—even a divorce that he seeks. It is perhaps the ultimate symbol of powerlessness that he has a medium decide his divorce for him: He has persuaded himself that the spiritual world has more power than he does. Karenin is not seen again after Stiva’s failed séance; he ends the novel far from the action.

Stiva is a civil servant from a noble family and a philanderer who resents his responsibilities. He is cheerful, popular, likes to joke, and is not especially religious. Tolstoy notes that Stiva is a “liberal” in his politics because these are the views that best accommodate his distaste for matrimony and family life. He is fond of luxury, especially fine food, and enjoys hunting. In these ways, Tolstoy establishes him as a typical noble of the post-emancipation period: Europeanized, materialistic, and not particularly engaged with spiritual questions or rural life. He also shares the prejudices typical of his class and ethnic background, finding it distasteful that his advancement to a desired post requires deferentially behaving toward a Jewish man.

In many respects, Stiva is a static character: The novel opens with him as an unfaithful husband deeply in debt, and his position is essentially unchanged at its end. The same can be said of his emotional state, as he does not appear to deeply mourn his sister Anna or be particularly concerned with the fact that his wife and children depend on Levin for material and emotional support that Stiva does not provide. Tolstoy seems to use him to demonstrate that Russian urban society corrupts masculinity when its mores are taken to excess.

Stiva’s most important function in the text is as a social bridge to all the major characters. Anna is his sister; Levin is a childhood friend; and his wife, Dolly, is Kitty’s oldest sister. He thus connects all the novel’s major narrative strands: He brings Kitty and Levin together and provides insight into Karenin’s character and decisions once Anna leaves his home. He also introduces Levin to Anna, the only time the two characters—who are otherwise key protagonists—meet in person.

Stiva’s wife and Kitty’s sister Dolly’s role in the narrative is defined by her life as a busy mother of many children. She is devastated when she learns of Stiva’s affair, not realizing that he is a typical man of his class who thinks nothing of sexual dalliances. She reproaches herself for her naïveté, but realizes she has no real recourse due to her financial dependence on him. Anna’s emotional support convinces her to forgive, but Levin notices that the marriage remains unhappy. Dolly’s main passion is her children, and her mood rises and falls based on her perception of their behavior and accomplishments.

Dolly’s misery leads her to envy Anna, who she still loves despite knowing Kitty cannot socialize with Vronsky. She fantasizes about a love affair of her own, privately admitting that life without children sounds appealing. When actually faced with Anna’s more radical choices, however, Dolly feels out of place and uncomfortable. She tries to persuade Anna a divorce will improve her life, and is horrified by Anna’s refusal to have more children. Dolly can accept that marriage has its tribulations, but the alternatives to domesticity are ultimately unpalatable to her, underlining the limited options for women in late 19th century Russia.

Levin’s younger brother Nikolai is a committed radical, likely a communist, who has caused social scandal and lives in poverty. Levin is fond of his brother, remembering his youthful efforts to live the most moral life possible, and recognizing that the two of them share a certain social awkwardness and inability to express themselves. His brother’s illness forces Levin to confront mortality, driving him to Europe as an escape from ennui and the stress of his farm. Nikolai’s death and existence as a kind of shadow-self for Levin push the latter to change his life first by pursuing marriage, then by more deeply considering spiritual matters.

The leader of a Moscow social circle, Lydia is devoted to her particular forms of Christian spirituality: increasingly Christian mysticism and the use of mediums to contact the other world. Anna dislikes her for her constant criticism of others, and Lydia turns this criticism to Anna with special sharpness once she becomes Karenin’s confidante. Lydia convinces Karenin that his life is a holy one, that he is a martyr deserving of reverence; this language is also bound up with her love for him, which she does not otherwise express. Lydia becomes Karenin’s household manager after Anna’s departure, and prevents Anna from the contact with Serezha for which she desperately hopes. Lydia is the text’s clearest example of Christian hypocrisy.

Sergei is Levin’s half-brother and a leading intellectual who lives in Moscow. His intellectual preoccupations throughout the text mirror those of the intelligentsia, especially those whose origins were from the wealthy nobility rather than lower social strata. For much of the novel, he is drawn to the reformist institutions of the countryside and idealizes the peasants, as many intellectuals of the time did. He treats the countryside as a place of recreation, in sharp contrast to Levin’s life of labor and effort. He also somewhat despairs of Levin’s refusal to embrace social convention. His turn toward Pan-Slavism at the novel’s end reinforces that he follows the intellectual currents of the moment more than deep convictions, as Levin does.

Vronsky’s cousin and Anna’s friend, Betsy is encouraging and supportive of their affair. This support diminishes, however, once it is clear that Anna and Vronsky intend for their passion to reshape their lives, since this is less fashionable than a casual affair more widely accepted in this circle. Anna is particularly bitter once she realizes that Betsy, who personally has had affairs, has little desire to socialize with her once her marriage is effectively over. Where Lydia represents Christian hypocrisy, Betsy represents the same behavior in fashionable society.

Kitty and Dolly’s parents, the Scherbatskys, are the text’s representative of an older generation of aristocratic values. The Princess is especially uncomfortable with modern courtship, fearing that Kitty will be emotionally wounded by it. She, like Dolly, is something of a devotee to social convention, as she dislikes Levin’s awkward manners and thinks his disdain for practical details is contempt for her. The Prince is devoted to his daughters and serves as a kind of voice of reason, with his distaste for fashionable values, European manners, and steady support of Levin over Vronsky.