Anna Pavlovna, maid of honor to the mother of the Emperor, is a well-respected member of aristocratic society in St. Petersburg. In his depiction of one of her soirees, which demonstrates her capability as a high society host, Tolstoy use a metaphor and simile drawn from the language of industrialization and machinery:
As the owner of a spinning mill, having put his workers in their places, strolls about the establishment, watching out for an idle spindle or the odd one squealing much too loudly, and hastens to go and slow it down or start it up at the proper speed—so Anna Pavlovna strolled about her drawing room, going up to a circle that had fallen silent or was too talkative, and with one word or rearrangement set the conversation machine running evenly and properly again.
Just as "the owner of a spinning mill" keeps an eye out for "an idle spinner or the odd one squealing too loudly," so too does Anna Pavlovna keep a close eye on the attendees of the soiree, fostering conversation when some group has "fallen silent" or otherwise calming a group that has become "too talkative." The soiree, Tolstoy suggests, is something of a well-oiled machine, and the gracious Anna Pavlovna keeps this "conversation machine running evenly and properly."
After leaving his wife, Hélène Kuragin, whom he suspects of adultery, Pierre heads to Petersburg. On his journey, he meets a fellow traveler named Osip Bazdeev, who recognizes Pierre due to his status as a prominent Duke. Alluding to Pierre's recent marital issues, Bazdeev asks Pierre if he believes in God, and Pierre confesses that he does not. In the conversation that follows, Bazdeev uses an extended metaphor that compares human knowledge to a building made of stone:
“I shall never dare to say that I know the truth,” said the Mason, amazing Pierre more and more with his definite and firm speech. “No one can attain to the truth by himself; only stone by stone, with the participation of all, over millions of generations, from our forefather Adam down to our time, is the temple being built which is to become a worthy dwelling place for the great God,” said the Mason, and he closed his eyes.
At first, Pierre expects Bazdeev to express confidence in his own statements of Christian faith. Bazdeev, who reveals that he is a freemason, a member of a secretive fraternal society that was introduced to Russia in the 18th century, surprises Pierre by acknowledging that he cannot make firm claims about "the truth." Instead, Bazdeev claims, a person can only know the truth in a "stone by stone" fashion, in collaboration with others, over "millions of generations."
From "our forefather Adam" to the present day, Bazdeev claims, the "temple" of human knowledge is "being built." Further developing the metaphor, he notes that this temple will be a "worthy dwelling place for the great God" eventually, after humans have made enough progress in their learning. Here, Bazdeev's closely related metaphors, which draw from building and from building materials such as stone, suggest that no one person can gain a full understanding of divinity on their own, just as no one person can build an entire cathedral. These metaphors are particularly appropriate given that the freemasons began as a medieval guild for masons, or builders who work with stone. Notably, too, Solomon's Temple in ancient Jerusalem is a central metaphor for the freemasons, and that's likely what Bazdeev is alluding to here.
Pierre echoes Osip Bazdeev's earlier metaphor, which compared the process of learning to the construction of a building, in his own, more cynical assessment of freemason beliefs and practices. After devoting himself to freemasonry for some time, Pierre begins to feel disillusioned with the group, and he expresses his growing skepticism with a series of metaphors that are drawn from masonry:
Pierre began to feel after a year that the ground of Masonry, on which he stood, was giving way all the more under his feet the more firmly he tried to stand on it. Along with that, he felt that the further the ground he stood on gave way under his feet, the more involuntarily he was bound to it. When he was starting out in Masonry, he experienced the feeling of a man who trustingly sets foot on the smooth surface of a swamp. Placing one foot on it, he sank.
After working with the freemasons loyally for a year, Pierre begins to feel that "the ground of Masonry, on which he stood, was now giving way." In fact, the foundation weakens "all the more" when he tries to "stand on it" firmly. Further, he notes that he feels increasingly "bound" to this shaky foundation the more it weakens, feeling like a "man who trustingly sets foot on the smooth surface of a swamp." These various metaphors all draw from the language of masonry. Just as a building can only be securely built upon a stable foundation, Pierre now feels that he made a mistake in attempting to work through his own problems on the weak intellectual "foundation" of freemasonry.
In one of many sections of the novel where Tolstoy pauses the primary narratives in order to reflect upon the nature of history, he uses both simile and metaphor in a withering critique of French leader Napoleon Bonaparte, whom he characterizes as occupying an "artificial world of phantoms of some sort of greatness":
And even without his order they were doing what he wanted, and he gave the instruction only because he thought an order was expected of him. And again he was transferred to his former artificial world of phantoms of some sort of greatness, and again (as a horse walking about a slanting treadmill imagines it is doing something for itself), he began to obediently fulfill that cruel, sad, oppressive, and inhuman role which had been assigned to him.
Tolstoy takes aim at historians who believe that the choices of individual people such as Napoleon determine the shape of history, an attitude often referred to as the "Great Man Theory." Napoleon, he insists, gives instructions "only because he thought an order was expected of him." In other words, Napoleon is attempting to act in a manner he believes people expect, allowing others to, in a sense, control his actions. When he attempts to carry out his role as a "great" leader and heroic liberator, he demeans his own humanity and is "transferred to an artificial world of phantoms." Through this metaphor, Tolstoy suggests that Napoleon has given up on reality, where human life has value, and instead acts as if he is already a figure in a history book, making choices that will be evaluated by historians for their efficacy.
In a related simile, Tolstoy writes that Napoleon behaves "as a horse walking about a slanted treadmill imagines it is doing something useful for itself." Just as the horse in this simile is not making meaningful progress but merely looks as though it is making progress, Napoleon has no sense of the true value or worth of his actions. He is, for Tolstoy, not a great man who shapes the world, but rather a mere instrument of history.
In an extended metaphor, Tolstoy compares the city of Moscow, largely abandoned in anticipation of French invasion, to a "queenless beehive":
There is no life in a queenless beehive, but to a superficial glance it seems as alive as the others. In the hot rays of the noonday sun, the bees hover just as merrily around a queenless hive as around the other living hives; from afar it has the same smell of honey; bees fly in and out of it in the same way. But we need only take a closer look at it to realize that there is no longer any life in this hive. The bees do not fly in the same way as in a living hive [...]
Though the city has not been wholly abandoned, only a small percentage of its original population remains. Most have fled to other areas of Russia in order to avoid Napoleon's troops, which are advancing through Russia. Here, Tolstoy employs an elaborate metaphor, characterizing the city as a "queenless beehive" that might appear "alive" at a "superficial glance" but no longer contains "any life." Alongside the bulk of the local population, Moscow's leadership has fled, leaving the city in a strange, suspended state. Those who remain in the city, Tolstoy suggests, continue to go about their daily lives, but their actions are merely hollow and habitual under these ominous conditions.
Tolstoy offers a withering assessment of Napoleon Bonaparte in the Epilogue of the novel, in which he uses an extended metaphor that dismisses the French leader as an "actor" in a "pathetic comedy":
The act is performed. The last role has been played. The actor is told to undress and wash off his greasepaint and rouge: there is no more need for him. And several years go by during which this man, in solitude on his island, plays a pathetic comedy before himself, pettily intriguing and lying to justify his actions [...]
The stage manager, having finished the drama and undressed the actor, shows him to us. “Look at what you believed in! Here he is! Do you see now that it was not he but I who moved you?”
In the final chapters of War and Peace, Tolstoy argues against the perception of Napoleon as a great man who shaped European history to his own will. Instead, he characterizes Napoleon as a figure who was swept along by chance. Both his victories and his failures, Tolstoy suggests, were the result of complex factors beyond his control. Emphasizing Napoleon's own lack of agency, Tolstoy describes him metaphorically as an "actor" who merely performed his role. In his exile, he is like any other actor who takes off his costume before exiting the stage, exposing himself as an ordinary man rather than a god or a hero. Further extending this metaphor, Tolstoy imagines a "stage manager" who gleefully exposes the artifice of this historical drama. Tolstoy's metaphor, then, presents a deeply cynical view of Napoleon and the destructive Napoleonic Wars.
After Marya acknowledges that she continues to feel jealous of Sonya, to whom Nikolai was previously engaged, Natasha urges Marya to look upon Sonya with compassion and uses a metaphor that describes Sonya as a "sterile blossom":
"I feel terribly sorry for her sometimes; I used to want terribly for Nicolas to marry her; but I always had a sort of presentiment that it would never be. She’s a sterile blossom, you know, like on strawberries? Sometimes I feel sorry for her, but sometimes I think she doesn’t feel it the way we would.”
[...] Indeed it did seem that Sonya was not burdened by her position and was completely reconciled with her destiny as a sterile blossom. It seemed she valued not so much the people as the whole family.
During their adolescence, Nikolai vowed to marry Sonya after returning from the war. However, this engagement is strongly opposed by Nikolai's mother, Countess Rostov, as Sonya is a second cousin to Nikolai and has no money of her own. In her speech, Natasha emphasizes the difficulty of Sonya's position as a poor relation with little prospect of marriage. Sonya, she states, is "a sterile blossom." Through this metaphor, Natasha suggests that Sonya is beautiful, like a flower, but is nevertheless unlikely to get married or have children as a result of her financial circumstances. Accepting Natasha's comparison, Marya notes that Sonya seems "reconciled with her destiny as a sterile blossom" and does not suffer greatly from her apparent ineligibility for marriage.
In the Epilogue, Tolstoy metaphorically compares the various social classes and circles that make up the Bezukhov household to "totally different worlds":
As in every real family, several totally different worlds lived together in the house at Bald Hills, each maintaining its own particularity and yielding to the others, but merging into one harmonious whole. Every event that occurred in the house was equally—joyfully or sadly—important for all these worlds; but each world had its own reasons, independent of the others, for rejoicing or lamenting over whatever the event might be. Thus, Pierre’s coming was a joyful, important event, and as such it had an effect on everyone.
At the house at Bald Hills, home of Pierre and Natasha in 1812, various different classes of people coexist peacefully but operate in different spaces. The servants, for example, attend to the daily chores, and the governesses and children likewise occupy a separate sphere within the home. Tolstoy likens these different groups, who live together but only occasionally interact, to "totally different worlds" that are distinct but nevertheless affect each other. Together, he notes, they constitute "one harmonious whole," suggesting that the household operates smoothly despite occasional tensions and arguments. Further, whenever there is some change in the house, it "equally" affects "these worlds," whether "joyfully or sadly," underscoring their interdependence.