Who is Adam Mickiewicz?

Adam Mickiewicz was born in Belarus on December 24 1798 and passed away in Istanbul on November 26, 1855. He is recognized as the greatest Romantic poet in Polish literature and is compared to the most notable European writers of the first half of the nineteenth century: George Byron and Johann Wolfgang Goethe. He is a poet, playwright, patriot, and author of the Polish national epic poem.

Mickiewicz had positions as a lecturer at the Lausanne Academy, a teacher at the Kovno school, and a teacher at the Paris Collège de France. He founded the Polish legion in Italy in 1848 and served as the principal editor of Polish newspapers published in exile. He looked after the priceless collection of the Paris Bibliothèque de l'Arsenal between 1852 and 1855.

He left on his final mission to the East in September 1855 with plans to raise Polish armies to fight Tsarist Russia in the Crimean War. He passed quite unexpectedly on November 26, 1855, in Istanbul, in a leased home that is now the site of a museum dedicated to the poet.

From a House into a Museum

Adam Mickiewicz, Armand Lévy, and Henryk Slualski rented a home from Mrs. Rudnicka at the intersection of Yeni Sehir and Kalyoncu Kulluk in November 1855. Nearly the whole Pera neighborhood was destroyed by a massive fire in March 1870, including the residence where the Polish poet spent his final weeks of life and where he perished.

Jesse Ratyski bought the ground from the Istanbul municipality that year, and he then erected a structure that was an exact replica of the one that had been demolished. At the intersection of Tatli Badem Sokak (Sweet Almonds) and Serdar Omerpasa Streets is where the current Adam Mickiewicz Museum is situated.

This last place Mickiewicz stayed was really basic and impoverished. After the poet had died away, one of the Polish guests made the comment below: I could see the spacious parlor of the quadrangle window where he had resided. There was an entrance vestibule. A table, a few basic chairs, and a bed in the corner with a straw mattress and a Turkish rug made up the furnishings.

The space exuded nothingness, was dark and wet, and reminded me of our inn room—the kind you occasionally encounter while traveling through autumn on Ukrainian trails. Before his intended travel to Bulgaria and Serbia, the poet had only considered this lodging to be temporary. However, he passed away here on November 26, 1855.