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Arn Arvidson - The Story Of Arn

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Arn Arvidson - The Story Of Arn

Ammon Arvidson (View posts)
Posted: 1 Jul 2004 10:33PM GMT
Classification: Query
Surnames: Arvidson
The year was 1808, Arn was three years old, His father was an old man, a farmer on the Baltic coast of what is now Finland, then part of Sweden.
He, Arn was the youngest of four brothers, Alfrick, the eldest age 19, Carl 17, and Keil 15. Russia invaded Finland.
Alfrick, Carl and Keil, thought this was their chance to see some excitement, to prove they were men, to revive the Glory of Sweden, so they took the best horses their father had and rode off to throw the Russians out.
No experience of war, nothing but their youth and it’s enthusiasm.
Two days later they came flying back, “Come on father fly, the Russians are just behind us”
“No my sons, you have fought and lost, now you must pay” and he made them sit down and eat.
Eventually the Russians arrived.
The officer in command entered, “You have been defeated in the field, Now you will obey Russian laws, and pay your tax to Russia”
The old man got up to his feet, “I was born a Swede, I will die a Swede”
“Then come outside and dig your grave”
The old man went out, followed by all his family,
All he said was “Dig my Grave” which his sons did, and when they thought it was enough they stopped, but the old man said “It is not deep enough, It must hold us all”
Without a murmur, the lads did so and when the old man was satisfied he said “enough”
And stood at the foot of the grave.
The officer had his men lined up ready.
“You have your last chance”
“I will die a Swede”
Into the grave he went
Alfrick, with teeth clenched, instantly stepped into his fathers footprints.
“I cannot be less a man than my father” and he too went into the grave,
Carl followed saying “Murder me too”
The Russian was human too and was badly affected, he said “We are not thieves, What was yours is still yours, Give in and do not force me to do this”
Young Keil, crying his eyes outran to his mother, who held him close in her arms, until he broke away, and ran to the foot of the grave.
“ I too must be as good a man as my father and brothers, Were I less I could not live”
So he too went into the grave.
The Russian, now nearly beyond himself, turned to the mother, “This babe is now the rightful owner, I hold you his regent, and responsible for him, and hurried off, to carry on with his duty.
That night, after filling in the grave, the woman fled across the Baltic, taking Arn and what wealth they could carry with them in an open boat to Sweden proper.
In those days in Sweden, a man was not a member of the state unless he was born in wedlock, baptized, passed his schooling, and had been confirmed in his church, and have the certificates of all this. Arn had all these, and he was my Great, Grandfather, so too had his son, my grandfather, and his son my father, and so had I.
More of them later.
I first learned of my history at my fathers knee as a boy of three.
Who said “Give me that child from one to three, You will not alter him in all his life”
In the telling of that story I went through all the emotions a human can feel, fear, love, hate, admiration and pride.
Consider the picture, only the light of a coal fire, one o’clock in the morning, Mam in bed with the rest of the family,
My father in his wooden arm chair, and myself on a cracket at his feet.
Mam came out of her bedroom, “Harry, what are you doing, he’s only a bairn, and it is one o’clock”
I was enthralled with the story, the wonder of it never left me, I have told to my son.
I had the great pride and pleasure, to hear him say once, “I am proud to be an Englishman and proud to be of Scandinavian stock” amongst a group of gentlemen.
Anyway back to the story, Dad got out of his chair, “Never mind son if you have lost a few hours sleep. You have tonight learnt who you are and what you came from and who and what your forefathers where and you can be proud of them.

This story has been passed down our family and was probably written by Anders Arvidson born Abt. 16 Sep 1865 in Walby Village, Near Gothenborg, Sweden and died on 18 Jul 1932 in Northumberland, England. His Father Harry Arvidson died 1905 in Sweden. Arn was born in 1805 as the story says. Anders Arvidson was my Great Grandfather. If anyone is related to these people, please contact me or if anyone wants anymore information about the story please Contact Me.
SubjectAuthorDate Posted
Ammon Arvidson 2 Jul 2004 4:33AM GMT 
AliciaKMarsha... 1 Feb 2005 12:23AM GMT 
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