In 1752—we do not know the exact date—a peasant named Jędrzej Skorupa from Gumniska, now a district of the city of Tarnów in southern Poland, sent a letter containing a heartbreaking plea for mercy to the owner of his village.

A few weeks earlier Skorupa had made a deal with trader Jakub Wróbel from Kraków, most probably of Jewish origin, but the deal quickly turned bad for the poor peasant. Skorupa sold a number of pigs—which were the property of the absentee village owner—but instead of money, he took from the trader only a note promising payment. Wróbel told him (over a beer) that Grotkowski—a manor official, almost certainly a landless nobleman, whose main job was to discipline the serfs and oversee their work—trusted him with credit.

The next chapters of this sad story are both easy and difficult to imagine today. When the money promised by Wróbel did not materialize, Grotkowski expected Skorupa to cover the owner's losses. Skorupa wrote:

However, a higher-ranking manor official intervened and sent both of them—scared Skorupa and furious Grotkowski—to Kraków to look for the dishonest trader and the money he owed. Predictably, Skorupa could not find Wróbel in Kraków.

Other traders promised to pay for the dishonest member of their guild, but said they needed time to collect the full amount. Grotkowski lost his patience. As the peasant told it:

After returning to the village Grotkowski confiscated Skorupa's property—nine cows and oxen. When his wife asked for the animals’ return, she was also beaten by Grotkowski. The desperate serf then tried to commit suicide: he cut his stomach with a razor.