12 Most Popular Legends About Gogol

“…People got used to disbelieving Gogol. Almost everything Gogol said was considered a mystification not worth attention.” Vasily Gippius

In both the recollections of his contemporaries and later research, the idea of Gogol’s deceitfulness and insincerity inevitably arises—the notion that even his direct speech was not necessarily truthful, and that “all is not what it seems.”

“Gogol was a liar. The pinnacle of romantic art was considered to be the desire to open one’s soul to the reader and speak ‘the truth.’ The pinnacle of Gogol’s art was to conceal himself, invent another person in his place, and from that person’s perspective, play a romantic vaudeville of false sincerity. This principle determined not only his creative approach but also Gogol’s everyday behavior. It is enough to look through his letters to realize that he systematically mystified his correspondents: sometimes, while in Russia, he wrote as if from abroad, or he invented non-existent details that later became agonizing riddles for his biographers.”

There are several known examples of such letters where we know for certain that the content is false. Sometimes it resembles the unrestrained boasting in the spirit of Khlestakov (e.g., in a letter to his mother from 1832). Other times, it is a calculated deception, such as when he wrote to his mother in 1839 about being in Trieste, taking sea baths, when he was actually in Moscow.

The atmosphere of mystification surrounding Gogol created fertile ground for numerous myths about him.

Legend 1. Gogol had a terrible personality

Verdict: Yes, he did not have an easy personality.

Even Gogol’s closest friends found it difficult to communicate with him. His secretiveness was particularly distressing to those close to him, as it undermined the very idea of friendship. Pyotr Pletnev, a friend, wrote: “But what are you? As a person, a secretive, egoistical, arrogant, distrustful being, sacrificing everything for glory.”

Sergey Aksakov, a close friend, noted: “Even with his friends, he was not completely, or rather, not always, frank… He seldom took part in what was happening around him, rarely thought about what they were telling him, and often did not think about what he was saying himself…”

With strangers or people he disliked, his reserve could become offensive. He was known to shrink into a corner, look around with serious, seemingly displeased eyes, or simply retreat. He once pretended to be asleep the entire evening when urged to visit the philosopher Chaadaev.

When the audience wanted to see the author after the triumphant Moscow premiere of The Government Inspector, Gogol fled the theater. He later claimed he had received distressing news from relatives, but no one believed him.

Many, especially outside observers, considered Gogol exceedingly capricious. Memoirist Pyotr Bartenev recalled: “He was incredibly capricious, ordering a glass of tea to be brought and taken away several times because it was never poured to his liking; the tea was either too hot, too strong, or too diluted… In short, those present became uncomfortable; they could only marvel at the patience of the hosts and the guest’s extreme lack of delicacy.”

In sum, the great writer’s personality was indeed far from pleasant.

Legend 2. His real name wasn’t Gogol, but Yanovsky

Verdict: This is partly true.

The story of Gogol’s name is complex. His great-great-grandfather was a priest named Ivan Yakovlevich. His son, also a priest, was named Demyan, who took the surname Yanovsky (likely from the Polish form of his father’s name, Jan). In the 1780s, his grandfather, Afanasy Demyanovich, changed the family’s name to Gogol-Yanovsky to secure noble status, claiming descent from a Polish Colonel Andrei Gogol. Although the direct connection to the Gogol family is questionable, the nobility was satisfied.

Nikolai’s birth record names his father as the landowner Vasily Yanovsky. Early in his life, Nikolai signed his letters variously as “Nikolai Gogol Yanovsky,” “Nikolai Yanovsky,” and “N. G. Yanovsky.”

The shift to simply Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol is often linked to the Polish Uprising of 1830–1831. In 1831, Gogol, an adjunct at St. Petersburg University, was overheard saying: “Why do you call me Yanovsky? My surname is Gogol, and Yanovsky is just an addition; the Poles invented it.”

The writer insisted on shortening his name, asking correspondents to address him simply as Gogol, claiming the post office struggled to find him under the name Yanovsky.

Legend 3. Gogol was fond of medical treatments

Verdict: This is true (especially talking about illnesses).

Gogol was a sickly child, described as frail, “extremely ugly and disfigured by scrofula,” and often bandaged. Even as a young man, a fellow student recalled him with a bandage on his ears. He was even dismissed from the Patriotic Institute in 1835 on the grounds that his illness meant he “may remain on leave for a very long time.”

Gogol was not shy about his ailments and often complained about them. Upon one of his first meetings with Aksakov, he claimed to be incurably ill, vaguely stating the cause was in his intestines. The writer’s health was a constant topic; one acquaintance joked: “We constantly heard him describe his ailments; we lived in his stomach.”

His descriptions of his health could be fantastical. The poet Nikolay Yazykov reported that Gogol told him famous Parisian doctors had examined him and found that his stomach was “upside down.”

Gogol not only talked about his illnesses but also frequently and enthusiastically sought treatment. He asked his sister to make him medicinal infusions, and during his travels in Russia and Europe, he invariably visited local doctors and took local healing waters. In his letters, he provided detailed accounts of his treatments and even medical advice to others.

Legend 4. Gogol enjoyed sewing and knitting

Verdict: This is true.

Many independent memoirists recall seeing Gogol engaged in sewing, knitting, and embroidery. Pavel Annenkov, who lived with Gogol in Rome in 1841, noted:

“In general, Gogol had a certain passion for needlework: with the approach of summer, he began to cut out muslin and cambric neckerchiefs for himself, let out his vests a few lines lower, etc., and he took this business very seriously. I would find him at the table with scissors and other tailor’s materials, lost in deep thought.”

Gogol listed tailoring as a potential means of earning a living before leaving for St. Petersburg in 1828. Though he never had to sew for money, it remained a much-loved private hobby.

He seemed to be somewhat embarrassed by this passion. The children of historian Mikhail Pogodin, with whom Gogol often stayed, recalled that he “loved to embroider on canvas, but never spoke about it to anyone and hid it from outsiders.” One of Pogodin’s sons recalled asking Gogol to knit him wool socks, for which Gogol became angry and pulled his ears.

Legend 5. Gogol loved eggnog (gogol-mogol)

Verdict: This is most likely true.

In 1893, a memoir was published stating: “One of the dishes Gogol loved most was goat’s milk, which he cooked himself in a special way, adding rum (he carried the latter with him in a flask). He called this concoction gogol-mogol and often said, laughing: ‘Gogol loves gogol-mogol.'”

This is the only known mention, and the recipe (goat’s milk with rum) is not the correct one for gogol-mogol (which is made with eggs and sugar). However, the anecdote of the writer making a joke about his name and favorite drink is often cited.

We know for certain that Gogol loved macaroni (and food in general). Contem­poraries described his co-cooking of Italian meals as a “sacred ritual,” where he would dramatically cut the macaroni and sprinkle it with cheese.

Legend 6. Gogol worried about his long nose

Verdict: This is most likely untrue.

Gogol’s long, sharp nose was the most commented-upon feature of his appearance. Contemporaries described it as “unusually long and thin, like a bird’s nose” and “clever, fox-like.” Some accounts were quite uncomplimentary, with one student claiming he was afraid Gogol would “peck his eye out” and thus always sat to the side during lectures.

Some later memoirists claimed Gogol was self-conscious about his nose, suggesting he had his portrait painted in a way to “hide as much as possible his long nose.” However, this account is late and comes from outside his closest circle.

A note Gogol wrote in an acquaintance’s album suggests he found his nose amusing, describing it as “decidedly bird-like, pointed, and long,” adding, “In spite of its funny physiognomy, my nose is a very good beast…”

The myth that Gogol was ashamed of his nose likely stems from the prominence of noses in his writing (e.g., The Nose), the peculiar shape of his nose, and his overall secretive demeanor.

Legend 7. Gogol was a bad poet

Verdict: This is true.

Gogol’s first published work was a poem, “Italy,” in 1829. He had serious hopes for his early, mostly lyrical and serious, poetic work.

However, his reputation as a bad poet was cemented by his published poem (idyll in pictures) Hanz Küchelgarten, released in June 1829 under the pseudonym V. Alov. The initial reviews were extremely unfavorable, criticizing the poem’s inconsistencies, “monstrous” scenes, and poor versification.

Gogol did not wait for further reviews: he bought up and burned all unsold copies of the poem with the help of his servant. Although he tried to erase this history, after his death, his servant and a former classmate told the press about the incident. This gave rise to the myth that Hanz Küchelgarten was so bad that its author had to destroy it.

Legend 8. Pushkin invented the plot of The Government Inspector and gave it to Gogol

Verdict: This is true.

This story is presented as a generally known fact, although we lack written evidence that explicitly speaks of the plot being gifted. In the posthumously published Author’s Confession, Gogol mentions it in passing: “…And, in conclusion, [Pushkin] gave me his own plot… That was the plot for Dead Souls. (The idea for The Government Inspector also belongs to him).”

A letter from Gogol is also preserved, in which he indeed begs Pushkin for a plot for a comedy: “Do me a favour, give me some kind of plot, any kind, funny or not funny, but a purely Russian anecdote. My hand trembles to write a comedy meanwhile… Do me a favour, give me a plot; a five-act comedy will be finished instantly, and I swear, it will be funnier than the devil. For God’s sake.” This letter was written on October 7, 1835. Pushkin was in Mikhailovskoye at the time; he would only return to St. Petersburg at the end of October. What Pushkin answered, or if he answered at all, is unknown. However, it is known that in early December, Gogol wrote to Pogodin that he had a finished comedy ready for staging, and in early January, he read The Government Inspector at a gathering hosted by Zhukovsky. The time that passed from the request for the plot to the appearance of the finished text is fantastically, suspiciously short.

As for Pushkin, he mentions his gift nowhere, but he does write in his diary that Gogol, following his advice, began working on a history of Russian criticism (which was never carried out) in 1834. The lack of direct testimony is compensated by memoirists who confidently relate this story. Pavel Annenkov, who first published the above-quoted fragment from the Author’s Confession in his Materials for the Biography of A. S. Pushkin (1854), particularly emphasizes the moment of continuity: “…By Gogol’s own admission, both The Government Inspector and Dead Souls belonged to Pushkin’s conceptions.” Two years later, in his memoirs, he speaks of the gifting event as a well-known fact: “It is known that Gogol took the idea for The Government Inspector and Dead Souls from Pushkin, but it is less known that Pushkin was not entirely willing to yield his property to him. However, in his domestic circle, Pushkin would say, laughing: ‘One must be careful with this Little Russian: he robs me so that one cannot even cry out.'” Alleged Pushkin quotes enter the history, but it is unclear where Annenkov learned them or to which source he is appealing.

In the memoirs of Count Vladimir Sollogub, published in 1865, the story is supplemented with new details. He recounts where Pushkin himself got the plot:

“Pushkin became acquainted with Gogol and told him about an incident in the town of Ustuzhna, Novgorod province, concerning some passing gentleman who presented himself as a ministry official and fleeced all the townspeople. Furthermore, Pushkin, when he was in Orenburg, learned that a secret paper had been received about him by Count V. A. Perovsky, in which the latter was warned to be cautious, as the history of the Pugachev rebellion was only a pretext, and Pushkin’s trip was secretly intended to audit the actions of Orenburg officials. The Government Inspector, which Pushkin always called himself the godfather of, was conceived based on these two facts.”

The publisher of the Russian Archive, Pyotr Bartenev, also published an extensive and colourful anonymous account that describes in detail how this story happened to Pushkin and even more categorically states the idea that The Government Inspector was his conception:

“From Nizhny, Pushkin went straight to Orenburg, where his longtime friend Count Vasily Alekseevich Perovsky was in command. Pushkin stayed with him. Once they sat up late into the evening. Late the next morning, Pushkin was woken by terrible laughter. He sees: Perovsky is standing, holding a letter in his hands and roaring with laughter. The fact is that he had received a letter from [Buturlin] from Nizhny, the content of which was: ‘Pushkin passed through here recently. Knowing who he is, I treated him kindly, but I must confess, I do not believe at all that he is travelling for documents about the Pugachev rebellion; he must have been given a secret commission to gather information about irregularities. You know my regard for you; I considered it my duty to advise you to be careful, etc.’ Then the idea occurred to Pushkin to write a comedy: The Government Inspector. He later told Gogol about this, told others several times, and intended to write something of this kind himself. (Heard from Pushkin himself.)”

However, as the literary scholar Oleg Proskurin convincingly proves, this astonishing story could not possibly have happened to Pushkin, and here is why. Pushkin was in Orenburg for only two nights. He did spend the first night at Perovsky’s house, but early the next morning he was already in Berdskaya Sloboda gathering information about Pugachev. Before leaving, he managed to write a letter to his wife where he did not mention this comical story at all. He spent the second night at the house of Vladimir Dal, who was then a special assignments official under Perovsky. In short, there was no “late morning” when Perovsky could have woken Pushkin with his laughter and recounted the anecdote in question. Not to mention that Pushkin was in Orenburg from Monday to Wednesday, and the mail arrived in Orenburg on Thursday.

Contemporaries’ recollections survive about an evening at the home of Sergey Aksakov in late October 1851, where Gogol was relating the story of the plot’s donation for The Government Inspector. The Slavic scholar Osip Bodyansky recorded in his diary on October 31:

“…Gogol… noted that Pushkin gave him the first idea for The Government Inspector, telling him about Pavel Petrovich Svinin, how he posed as some important St. Petersburg official in Bessarabia and was only stopped when he had gone too far (he had started accepting petitions from convicts). ‘Afterwards,’ he added, ‘I heard several more similar tricks, for example, about some Volkov.'”

Platon Grigoryevich Volkov was a St. Petersburg literary figure with whom the story mentioned above in Ustuzhna actually happened, and the story retold by Pushkin occurred, according to this memoir, with Pavel Petrovich Svinin, the first editor of Otechestvennye Zapiski.

From all the above, it is clear that Gogol repeatedly mentioned in one form or another that Pushkin gave him the idea for The Government Inspector. Light is shed on this mysterious story by Pushkin’s autograph discovered at the beginning of the 20th century. It was found among papers bought by the Imperial Public Library abroad in 1910 and was first published by the historian of literature Pyotr Morozov in 1913. The autograph begins with the words: “[Svinin] <crossed out> Krispin arrives in the province…” This sketch became evidence that Pushkin certainly knew this plot (specifically as a story that happened to Svinin) and intended to develop it (though he had apparently not progressed very far).

Legend 9. Gogol wanted to marry Countess Anna Vielgorskaya

Verdict: This is unknown.

Gogol was not married and, as noted by the historian of literature Alexey Veselovsky, did not experience “a single strong attachment to a woman.” Perhaps the courtship of Vielgorskaya (if it truly occurred) is the sole and surprising exception to this rule. Anna Vielgorskaya was the sister of Iosif Vielgorsky, an aide-de-camp and fellow student of the heir to the throne, Alexander Nikolaevich. Iosif Vielgorsky died of tuberculosis in Rome in 1839. Gogol was very close to him during the last six months of his life. Gogol’s warm relations with the entire Vielgorsky family continued after Iosif’s death.

The story that Gogol proposed to Anna Vielgorskaya was first voiced by Gogol’s biographer Vladimir Shenrok, relying on “categorical reports from Vielgorsky relatives”—first in an article in 1889 and later in Materials for the Biography of Gogol. The talk was not of a formal proposal but of certain preliminary negotiations conducted through Alexey Venevitinov, who was married to Apollonia Vielgorskaya, Anna’s sister. According to Shenrok, the Vielgorskys, who had long and often communicated with Gogol and admired him as a writer, considered the marriage a mésalliance: “The Vielgorskys, despite all their regard for Gogol, were not only shocked by his proposal but could not even explain to themselves how such a strange idea could occur to a man with such an extraordinary mind.”

To Gogol’s relatives, this story seemed entirely impossible, and its publication outrageous. Anna Vasilyevna Gogol wrote to a researcher of the writer’s biography: “…Shenrok also greatly distressed me… I wrote to him that this courtship is improbable! Returning from Jerusalem, he was not in such a mood… It seems to me he did not think about marriage; he always said that he was not fit for family life!”

Contemporary opponents of the courtship hypothesis, such as literary scholar Vladimir Voropaev, also appeal to similar arguments. Firstly, Gogol repeatedly wrote that he was “now more suitable for a monastery than for secular life.” Secondly, judging by his long-term correspondence with Anna Vielgorskaya, Gogol “saw himself as [her] spiritual mentor and teacher.”

Even Shenrok pointed out that only one letter (and not directly) testifies to the event, meaning there is almost no evidence. What is this letter? It is very vague, “full of a rare tragic feeling,” full of hints of something known to both addresses, concerning the Vielgorsky family and the relationship between Anna Vielgorskaya and Gogol:

“…I have suffered a lot since I parted with you in St. Petersburg. I have languished entirely in soul, and my state was so difficult, so difficult, as I cannot tell you. It was even more difficult because I had no one to explain it to, no one to ask for advice or sympathy. I could not confide in my closest friend because relations with your family were involved; everything related to your house is sacred to me. It is a sin for you if you continue to be angry with me for surrounding you with cloudy clouds of misunderstanding. <…> I must be something in relation to you: God does not bring people together so wonderfully for nothing. Perhaps I should be nothing more in relation to <you> than a faithful dog, obliged to guard his master’s property in some corner. So do not be angry; you see that although our relations were temporarily disturbed by some fleeting revolt, they are still not such that you should look at me as a stranger.”

The hypothesis of an unsuccessful courtship seems to explain these hints quite well, but nevertheless, nothing specific is stated in the letter. Furthermore, it is not dated—an additional argument against it for Voropaev, who dates the letter to May 1849 instead of the customary spring 1850, thus denying it the status of a final and farewell communication.

On the other hand, Simon Karlinsky, in his book The Sexual Labyrinth of Nikolai Gogol, argues against the validity of this legend from a different perspective. He points to the excessive reaction of the Vielgorsky family: the entire family broke off communication with Gogol. Karlinsky, who interprets Gogol’s work and life in light of his suppressed homosexuality, hypothesizes that the dramatic moment that led to the rupture was the truth somehow revealed about the homosexual subtext of Gogol’s relationship with the late Iosif Vielgorsky. The legend of the courtship, he suggests, could have been invented to provide a socially acceptable explanation for this break.

Legend 10. Gogol suffered from depression and mental illnesses and died because of them

Verdict: This is most likely true.

Rumours of Gogol’s insanity spread during his lifetime—this is how contemporaries, including people close to the writer, explained the religious turning point in his spiritual life and work that they disliked, publicly expressed in the publication of Selected Passages from Correspondence with Friends. “If I did not have the consolation of thinking that he had gone mad on certain subjects, I would call him by a harsh word. I see in Gogol the prey of Satanic pride, not Christian humility,” Sergey Aksakov wrote to his son in January 1847.

Later, the idea of Gogol’s madness became a commonplace. What did the doctors say? One of the key sources of information about Gogol’s last days is the memoirs of Alexey Tarasenkov, a physician and witness. He does not commit to an unambiguous diagnosis. Tarasenkov writes about the complex nature of Gogol’s illness and the spiritual component underlying it but confidently rejects a number of possible causes, including insanity. Surprisingly, many drew the exact opposite conclusions from his text, and Tarasenkov was forced to write additional explanations and rebuttals.

Researchers returned to the dispute about Gogol’s mental health repeatedly. Vladimir Shenrok writes:

“The last decade of Gogol’s life presents a sad picture of a slow, but severe and persistent process of physical deterioration alongside a clear decline in talent and a morbid strain of religious ecstasy. It would be ridiculous to repeat the hackneyed legend of Gogol’s madness… but at the same time, one cannot deny the unquestionable disturbance in his mental balance during the last years, in connection with his physical disorder.”

In the 20th century, professional psychiatrists tried to diagnose him within the paradigm of contemporary science. The first work in this vein was Nikolai Bazhenov’s report Gogol’s Illness and Death, which concluded that Gogol “suffered from that form of mental illness which in our science is called periodic psychosis, in the form of so-called periodic melancholy.” This diagnosis was not universally accepted by Bazhenov’s colleagues.

Major mid-20th-century psychiatrist Dmitry Melekhov did not commit to an unambiguous diagnosis due to lack of information but was confident that it was a mental illness:

“Gogol’s illness and death is a typical case where doctors did not yet know how to recognize this disease, which had not yet been described in medical literature, and the confessor also did not know the biological laws of the development of this disease, interpreting it one-sidedly, spiritually-mystically, and not in the aspect of the broad horizon of the human personality, the unity in it of the biological, psychological, and spiritual in their complex interrelationships.”

In short, there is a strong professional and contemporary consensus that Gogol suffered from a severe psychiatric disorder, even if the precise diagnosis remains debated.

Legend 11. Gogol burned the second volume of Dead Souls by accident

Verdict: This is unknown.

The claim that Gogol did not intend to burn the second volume of Dead Souls but destroyed it by mistake originates from the testimony of Count Alexander Tolstoy, at whose house Gogol lived before his death. In Mikhail Pogodin’s obituary, it is recounted that the next morning, Gogol told Tolstoy: “Imagine how strong the evil spirit is! I wanted to burn papers that had long been designated for that, but I burned the chapters of Dead Souls, which I wanted to leave to my friends as a memory after my death.”

This detail is also mentioned in Tarasenkov’s memoirs:

“…he sat for a long time, lost in thought, then wept and ordered the Count to be invited to him. When he entered, he showed him the smouldering sheets of paper and said with grief: ‘This is what I have done! I intended to burn some things long prepared for it, but I burned everything! How strong the cunning one is—this is what he moved me to! And I had clarified and set out much of value there. This was the crown of my work; from it, everything could have been understood, even what was unclear in my former writings…'”

Later, Tolstoy expressed doubt about whether he should have published the mention of the “evil spirit,” worrying that the public would not understand.

The only direct witness to Gogol’s burning of the second volume was his servant, Semyon. His account (known, naturally, only in retellings) describes the act as deliberate:

“On Tuesday night, he prayed alone for a long time in his room. At three o’clock, he summoned his boy and asked him if it was warm in the other half of his rooms. ‘Chilly,’ he replied. ‘Give me my cloak, let’s go: I need to dispose of things there.’ And he went with a candle in his hands, crossing himself in every room he passed through. He came, ordered the chimney to be opened as quietly as possible so as not to wake anyone, and then to be brought the portfolio from the cupboard. When the portfolio was brought, he took a bundle from it… The boy, guessing, fell to his knees before him and said: ‘Master, what are you doing, stop it!’ ‘It’s not your business,’ he replied, praying. The boy began to cry and beg him. Meanwhile, the fire went out after the corners of the notebooks burned. He noticed this, took the bundle out of the stove, untied the ribbon and arranged the sheets so that the fire would catch more easily, lit it again and sat on a chair in front of the fire, waiting until everything burned up and decayed. Then, crossing himself, he returned to his former room, kissed the boy, lay down on the sofa and wept.”

Literary critics are divided: some argue that “unnecessary papers are not destroyed like that” (Munn), while others point out that the notebooks were tied with a ribbon and Gogol did not see what he was burning (Gippius). However, the act of burning his own texts was consistent with Gogol’s pattern of behavior (he had burned his texts many times before, including the second volume of Dead Souls in 1845), which suggests the act was conscious, even if influenced by his emotional state. The tragedy of his death colors the perception of the event.

Legend 12. Gogol was afraid of being buried alive, and it happened

Verdict: This is highly unlikely.

Gogol was indeed afraid of being buried alive, and he mentioned this in the first point of his “Testament,” published during his lifetime:

“I bequeath my body not to be buried until evident signs of decomposition appear. I mention this because already during my illness, moments of vital numbness came upon me, my heart and pulse would stop beating… Having been a witness in my life to many sad events from our unreasonable haste in all matters, even in such a one as burial, I announce this here at the very beginning of my will, in the hope that perhaps my posthumous voice will remind everyone of circumspection.”

This will was vivid in the memory of many at the time of Gogol’s death. The sculptor Nikolai Ramazanov testifies that he did see signs of decomposition on Gogol’s face before he proceeded to take the death mask, confirming that the body was not in a state of suspended animation.

The impetus for the rumour that Gogol was buried alive was the reburial of his remains from Danilov Monastery to Novodevichy Cemetery on May 31, 1931. The source was reportedly the writer Vladimir Lidin, who was present at the exhumation. His account exists in two variations: the first (oral) version claims that the skeleton lay in the coffin in an unnatural pose, with the skull turned to the side (a sign that Gogol had been buried alive). The second (published in 1991) version describes the exhumation differently: “there was no skull in the coffin, and Gogol’s remains began with the cervical vertebrae…”

The differences between the two versions are unclear. The legend of the missing skull is accompanied by a colourful legend, also retold by Lidin, about a collector who allegedly bribed monks to obtain Gogol’s skull.

Ultimately, the legend of Gogol’s stolen head remains in the realm of conjecture and is highly doubtful. The legend that Gogol was buried alive should also be considered improbable. This conclusion is supported by Ramazanov’s testimony and the fact that a whole council of doctors was monitoring Gogol’s illness. Doctor Tarasenkov wrote that he arrived on the morning of February 21, 1852, and “already found not Gogol, but his corpse.”

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