The subject of this book was vdokhnovenіem the moment when I thought that September was the fifth, this thousand eight hundred and forty-fifth year, a hundred years had passed since the rozhdenіya of Kutuzov, I stood at the grave of the great Russian commander. Thousands of vospominanіy flew through my voobrazhenіi. A picture of the past, as if stretched out before the eyes of my soul - the past, embracing the entrance of Frederick, Catherine, Paul, Alexander, Napoleon, the twentieth year, and sobytіya tsarstvovanіya Nicholas.