Yaroslavl, the average price of freedom in the early nineteenth century was between 219 and 266 rubles, the equivalent of about $39 to $48 then. * Though it was no more than the cost of about twenty horses 13 , it was as far out of reach for the ordinary serf as a private conversation with the tsar. To narrow the gap, serfs often sought permission from their landowners to venture beyond their small surroundings and seek jobs in larger towns and cities. They could make considerably more moneyâas much as 100 rubles in one winterâthat then would have to be divided with their masters. This seasonal migration, a relatively common practice, was primarily meant for men and their sons. Women and girls often remained behind to maintain the homestead and do the hard work necessary to create their dowries,which often included home-sown bed linens, towels, napkins, and tablecloths.
Naturally, the Smirnovs yearned for freedom. The first to go after it was Grigoriy, Pyotrâs uncle and one of his fatherâs younger brothers. Pyotr was still a toddler when his uncle packed up his meager belongings in 1835 and made for the twenty-five-mile dirt road that led from his village to the bustling town of Uglich. The walk was long and tedious, but Grigoriy would have kept himself occupied, meeting up with caravans heading here or there and stopping at the homes of acquaintances for rest and nourishment. Mostly, though, he probably thought about his future. At age twenty-six, Grigoriy had big plans.
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G RIGORIY HAD CERTAINLY been to Uglich before. It was a busy trading stop for people en route to St. Petersburg, Moscow, and other important cities. Although the town had only nine thousand permanent inhabitants, its ranks swelled throughout the week as transients stopped to barter goods, purchase supplies, and rest. Grigoriy, enterprising and resourceful, figured that Uglich could improve its local economy if it gave visitors a good enough reason to hang around longer. The best way to do that, he surmised, was to offer comfortable accommodations, decent food, and plenty of liquor. And thatâs what he told his masterâs brother, Mikhail Skripitsyn.
Skripitsyn must have seen something special in Grigoriy. He wasted no time at all scribbling out the legal document required for a serf to travel and work away from home. Skripitsyn likely figured that if Grigoriy was as successful as he suspected he would be, a big payday would be in the offing. Grigoriy might have carried the letter, which attested to his integrity and moral character, inside the folds of his heavy coat. It would have rested against his breast like a priceless treasure map. When Grigoriy took it out to present to officials in Uglich, seeking permissionto open his first inn, he did so with confidence. The document was dated December 10, 1835, and stated:
This certificate is provided by the landowner, the Titular Advisor and Cavalier Mikhail Stepanov Skripitsyn, to the peasant Grigoriy Alekseyevich Smirnov from the Yaroslavl province, who has been in my possession. The certificate gives him the right to run hotels and any such establishment in the town of Uglich. I know that his behavior is good and irreproachable and that he has not been involved in any suspicious activities. He has never been fined or sued and therefore can be permitted to engage in the mentioned hotel. I confirm this by my personal signature. 14
It was as if Grigoriy had been reborn. No longer just a village serf, he was now a âtrading peasant, fourth class.â 15 Though still a world away from the upper crust, his new status nonetheless gave him ample opportunity to make the acquaintance of one of Uglichâs most prominent families, the Zimins. They owned tanneries and linen factories, and produced supplies for Russiaâs armies. More importantly, the family was into local real estate. Grigoriy leased a house from the Zimins. Its location in the center of town was perfect for
Jan (ILT) J. C.; Gerardi Greenburg