Clan Macnab Society, Inc.
Clan Macnab Society, Inc.
For those interested in the ancient history and "arguments" associated with it, here are some emails passed back and forth between Clan Macnab Historian, David Rorer and Doug MacKinnon. Also, the first items on the page connect you with some of David Rorer's work connected with the history of Clan Macnab. The email "dialogue" will interest you, I'm sure............ Chuck
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Continue scrolling down to read some of David Rorer's recent work connected with Macnab Clan History:
(Just keep scrolling to read all of the material. Don't worry, it will not run out until you can see it everything posted on the page.
Chief's most recent comments regarding the Great Feud: The Chief has sent us this comment regarding "THE GREAT FEUD"and it is published below.
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To Chuck Macnab
I have read with some amusement David Rorer's latest version of the raid in 1612 by Iain min (Smooth John) and his brothers against the Neishes on their island at the eastern end of Loch Earn close to the village of St Fillans.
It is of course not just a legend but an event known to have happened. Nobody today knows the exact details and over the years the story has become enhanced in the telling.
David Rorer's version is very similar to some previous versions of the story. It is entertaining and amusing reading, albeit perhaps a little more bloodthirsty than in reality. I would query if there would have been much whiskey left by the time Iain min and his brothers arrived!! Also I do not believe that carrying a severed head for any distance by its hair is practical. I think it more than likely that the head, or heads, were carried back to Eilain Ran in a sack.
Be all that as it may; my main criticism of this and other similar versions of the story is the description of the route taken from Loch Tay to get to Neish's Island. Over the years this is what has interested me most.
When I first visited Killin on leave from the Far East some 50 years ago there were still people alive in the village, who could remember some of their elders who had seen the remains of the boat on the hill. I used to be a regular shooting-guest (walking up grouse) on Lochearnside (now part of the Drummond Estate) and know the approximate position where the remains of the boat lay before being destroyed in a heather fire. Archie Macnaughton, gamekeeper at the time, habitually pointed it out to me!
As for many years I owned, farmed and ran the shooting and stalking on the Auchmore Hill, I used to know every inch of the ground and the various tracks over the water-shed between Lochs Tay and Earn.
In my opinion the easiest and most logical route for the brothers to get their boat to Loch Earn would have been to row the two miles down Loch Tay to Cloichran where there used to be a well-established track up to the water-shed past Lochan Breachlaich (Trout loch). When they reached the saddle to the South East of the Breachlaich they would have had a choice. They could have followed the track down Glen Beich, or cut across east to the Top of Glen Tarken and taken the shorter but steeper route to Loch Earn down that Glen. There are two schools of thought about this, but to my way of thinking they would have chosen Glen Tarken.
David Rorer's version says that, having reached the foot of Glen Tarken, they then carried their boat (about a mile) along the road to St Fillans. Other versions of the story do not agree with this.
As they were intending to surprise the Neishes, I believe we can almost certainly rule out carrying the boat. The island is quite close to and just off-shore from the village of St Fillans. It therefore makes much more sense from the point of view of gaining surprise and would have been a great deal easier to launch their boat at the foot of Glen Tarken and row or paddle it up to the island. It would also have been easier on the return journey to have rowed or paddled the boat back to the foot of Glen Tarken. However, there is now no way of knowing which of the various versions is correct.
The accompanying article written by Keith McNeish and published in 2000 in St Fillans Village Newsletter - "The Villager" may amuse your members. He has muddled Finlarig Castle with its near neighbour Eilean Ran Castle. I doubt if the Neishes would have qualified for the beheading pit at Finlarig. John Christie author of "The Lairds and Lands of Loch Tayside" published in 1892 in the Chapter about Finlarig says, "...close by the castle a pit was made, with a heading-block, having a cavity for the reception of the head. Only those of gentle birth suffered death by decapitation. On a neighbouring tree, still flourishing, the common people were hung...".
(Note: Some versions of the story say that the McNab supplies were coming from "Callander" others say "Crieff". I personally think "Crieff" to be more likely!)
I rest my case!
Guneagal
J C Macnab of Macnab
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"The Villager" Feature:
The Neish Massacre
The islands in Loch Earn and Loch Voil share a common history. They are in fact crannogs; man-made places of refuge where local clans could escape from marauding enemies. One such island is Neish Island at the St Fillans end of Loch Earn and it has an underwater causeway. The island has an interesting history; one version is given by Keith McNeish who is a regular visitor to upper Strathearn. This is the story as told by a Clan Neish descendant.
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"The McNeishes have their roots in Perthshire and had few assets and little property of their own. Their preference was to prey on the dominant clan in the area, which was the McNabs. Their theft of livestock and other goods was a continuing irritation to the McNabs, whose laird in 1612 pleaded with his clan that drastic action was necessary against the McNeish "pest".
Shortly before Christmas that year a cartload of provisions, including an ample supply of liquor, was sent from Callander towards Killin under a very light guard. In line with McNab expectations, the McNeishes intercepted the cart and took all the provisions, sending the driver and his companion on his way. They then retreated to their refuge on Neish Island. On the following Saturday night, when the whole McNeish clan was enjoying to the full what they had plundered, a group of healthy, strong fighters led by Ian McNab, the son of the laird, walked over the hills between Killin and St Fillans, carrying a long boat. This boat was necessary because the causeway which the McNeish clan used as access to the island, was always guarded. On that fateful (and fatal) night, the McNab raiding party rowed stealthily across to the island and encountered little resistance from the McNeishes, as they were all blind drunk! When the McNabs left, they thought they had done a complete elimination job by slaughtering every man, woman and child. The McNeish chief was beheaded either on Neish island or in the beheading pit at Finlarig Castle and the head was proudly presented by Ian to his father.
Fortunately for the limited number of people who bear the name McNeish, one little boy feigned dead and hid under a cart. He was eventually discovered by the MacGregors, who were deadly enemies of the McNab clan. That little boy was adopted by the MacGregors, married one of them and the present clan all descend from that union. Their tartan is the MacGregor.
The crest of the McNabs, which is on display in the McNab room of the Inn at the Falls of Dochart, bears a picture of the boat which was dragged across the hills and also the bearded head of the McNeish chief. Finlarig Castle and its beheading pit still exist and as part of their essential education. I have taken my own offspring to that site as well as to Neish island.
So long as the populace of St Fillans retains the name of our long-lost island, the various versions of that near apocalypse surely will continue to be related!
Keith McNeish.
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"The great Feud - Part three"
The Great Feud – part three
The most colorful account of the final conflict in the feud between Macnab and Macnish comes from Roland Wild’ book “Macnab the Last Laird” by, published in 1938 by The Macmillan Company, New York. The similarity of this book title to that of a previous book by Alexander Fraser titled “The Last Laird of Macnab, an episode in the settlement of Macnab Township, Upper Canada”, published in Toronto in 1899 (a copy of which may be found in the PDF files on this CD or downloaded from www.archive.org ) suggests this as Wild’s source. However, he claims as his inspiration a newspaper article from Ottawa and as his sources the Clan Macnab Association (possibly the clan history by John Macnab of Callander which can also be found in the PDF files) and the Hamilton Spectator as well as a number of other individuals both in Scotland and in Canada. Except for the story of the raid on Nish Island related in The Great Feud – part one “Tartan Background” the books are very similar.
Wild’s highly fictionalized account of the raid on Nish Island is related below on pages 1-3. Except for the conversion of words from British to American English no other changes have been made.
FINLAY, VIII CHIEF OF MACNAB, stared out of the windows of the ancestral home of his Clan. Snow fell, and in the dusk the whole Valley of the Dochart, seen in the twilight of this winter night, was transformed. The roads were almost impassable, and the only sound was the thud of hoofs as a crofter made his way home to the cottages in the dark village of Killin.
The Macnab was cold. For seven days the snow had fallen and blocked the road that led from Perth. Provisions were low in the great mansion of Eilean Ran, and it was no place for a man who flattered himself that his taste was too good for the home-made potions that his servants could brew on the premises. The Macnab household was out of good whisky.
Three days before, servants had been dispatched to Perth to bring back provisions sufficient to make an adequate Christmas and New Year for The Macnab and his household. They were overdue, and though in the year 1612 it was not always possible to ensure a regular supply of provisions, this enforced delay made the Macnab angry and short-tempered. ‘He was a man of giant height, like all the members of his Clan. He exerted supreme domination over his twelve sons, each one of whom, it was said, was able to drive a nail through a twelve-inch board with his fist. He was always aggravated by the fact that his second wife, a Campbell, resented the prowess of her step-sons. And this night it was a very testy Chieftain who watched through empty windows and strained his ears for the sound of a servant who would herald the approach of the consignment of food and drink.
An important feature of the generous board of the Macnab was the whisky. True, there was spirit now in an earthenware jug, but it was uisge-beathe, distilled on the estate, and as such it was not considered worthy of being poured from the giant bottle, named the ‘Bachelor’, which now awaited the good whisky that could be bought in Perth. The ‘Bachelor’ was eloquent of the prestige of the Macnab; it passed slowly round the table among his twelve sons, but it remained usually at his elbow; he was accustomed to drink deeply before going in stately manner to bed; and often the servants rendered aid to his guests.
He turned round savagely as one of his sons came into the cold, stone-flagged hail. He uttered only a curt monosyllable of greeting, for he was a man of few words, and the fear was growing in his mind that he would pass another night with only the solace of coarse spirit. The light failed as he stood there, a kilted silhouette against the long, narrow window, his plaid flung over his shoulder enhancing his great stature; a granite face, old, but still arrogant; a mouth that showed impatience and intolerance; clear eyes that were used to the Highlands a hand on the dagger at his waist, his feet planted squarely; the most famous of the Macnabs, descendant of seven hundred years of Chieftainship.
Moreover, a thirsty Laird and it was not the sound he wished to hear that made him start to the door, not troubling to call for a servant. There was no welcome hail, nor the jingle of the bridle of a pack-horse. The door shook with an agitated drumming, and when the Chief opened and let in the snow flurries, a man tumbled across the threshold with blood on his forehead and his clothes bedraggled and torn. Macnab flung the door shut and dragged the man to his feet, thrust his glowering face up to that of his servant and bellowed for an explanation.
“Laird! Cried the servant.” It’s the McNeish, Laird! As we came along the road with the load, the MacNeish fell upon us and have taken the whisky to their— selves! Donald is near to dead on the road, Laird, and Angus Mcnab is badly wounded. They have taken the whisky, and they’re on the island near to Glentarkin, in the loch. . .”
Macnab flung the man from him and stared round the hall, his color rising, to find that the commotion had brought all twelve of his sons round him. They made a silent circle, afraid to speak, and when he found his voice, the old Laird looked at them, turned his head round slowly to stare at each in turn. Then he spoke, a phrase that has come down the years. Softly he said it: “The nicht is the nicht, if the lads were the lads. . .”
He stalked from the hail without another word. But behind him there were mutterings and frightened looks from one to the other of’ those twelve stalwarts. The mother was there too, that Campbell woman who was jealous of the prowess of her step-sons, and who fancied a favouritjsrn towards them from their father. “If the lads were the lads . . .” She resolved that the step-sons should take up the dangerous challenge.
The McNeishes had always been troublesome. Down through history they had harried and chivvied the Clan Macnab, until after the epic battle of Glenbultacher only thirty McNeishes survived of a force of five hundred. These were the remnants, caterans and robbers, who now offered supreme insult to the Macnab. The McNeish robbers were bold and undignified, and delighted in tweaking the nose of a Macnab. But now they had impaired his comfort as well as his dignity, and with the cunning of cowards, had retreated to the island, little more than a foothold in Loch Earn, that was called Neish Island. They were thinking that on this winter night they were secure from all interruption. Time and again they toasted the Macnab in ribaldry, and the rafters of the old fortress that offered them shelter on the island rang with their oaths. There were eleven of them there, and a woman or two and a child. The whisky tasted better for being stolen; and thrice as good because it was stolen from Macnab.
In the house of Eilean Ran few words were spoken as the Laird left the room. But the brothers knew what was in the mind of their father, and knew full well the meaning of that phrase with which he had taken his leave. Revenge could not wait until the morning; during the night the insult must be avenged. The mother urged the four eldest of the brothers to volunteer; they needed little encouragement; the Laird had given sufficient intimation of his wishes.
There are some who say that the Laird’s wife chose the eldest of the family to make that fateful errand because of her jealousy, and because it was unlikely that in a feud with the McNeishes any would return alive. But it was an obvious choice, and it was not long before they had agreed upon a desperate venture. The road to the island was some eleven miles, and it would be dawn before they could reach the extremity of Loch Earn. By morning the McNeishes might be sober, and it was the intention of the brothers to surprise them while still in their cups. To ram their insults down their throats while they were still drinking stolen whisky.
“We know the route over the hills,” said one.”
“That is so,” said another, “But there is the loch. The water is likely to be high at this time, and it is a tidy way from the shore. . . . There isna’ a boat. . .”
Then the voice of lain, the eldest son, the mightiest of them all, cried with a voice of thunder, and there seemed to be triumph in his mind.
“Man!” he cried. “We have a boat in the loch here, and it’s no more than a wee rowing-boat that we could carry, the four of us, over the shepherd’s way to Glentarkin! Before the dawn we could be over on the road and the boat in the water, and the McNeishes will tremble at the hammering of our dirks on the door! The nicht is the nicht, and the lads are the lads!”
The incredible project was begun, and there is not a ghillie in Loch Tayside to-day that will not see an insult in the suggestion that such is not true history. The hall of Eilean Ran was in sudden commotion, as with high spirits they buckled on dirks and belts, flung their plaids over their shoulders, and tossed down a mugrul of the raw home-brewed whisky to strengthen their courage and their sinews during that terrible night. They did not dare to tell the old Laird of their intentions, but flung out of-the door with an oath and a challenge to the storm; down to the lake a mile away where there rocked a tiny fishing-boat, the timbers of which were to be preserved in Perthshire history long after their own bones were scattered and forgotten.
The snow blew in flurries, and, save to a Highlander, the shepherd’s path over the hills was indistinguishable. But they knew the contour of every knoll and slope from innumerable hunting expeditions, and this was their own heath. The whisky in their stomachs lost its fire, but their heads were singing with another inspiration, the glory of revenge. The boat was heavy on their broad shoulders and they staggered before ever they reached the gradual slope that leads near to the summit of Creach Uchdag. Their feet were slipping in the snow, and a cruel wind came from the east into their young faces; but the Laird had been right when he said: “The nicht is the nicht . . .” there was not a McNeish who would believe that he was not impregnable in his island sanctuary on such a night. The Laird’s phrase rang through their brains. They sang the old gathering cry of the Clan Macnab as they labored, and foot by foot they covered a mile, another mile, and found themselves on the heights of the hill, in the teeth of the storm.
Up Achmore Hill and close to Breachioch. Up into the snowdrifts, along a path that they knew, they carried the rowing-boat fifteen hundred feet high to save a few miles round by Glen Ogle. There might be watchers on the loch track, and such a feat as carrying the boat over the direct path would be dismissed as impossible.
They crossed Glen Beich, came down to the level of the loch by the side of Glentarkin Burn, and marched another three miles to where the island showed dimly. It was lain, Smooth lain as he was called, who led them and whipped up their courage. He knew the path better than his brothers, and in him there burned, stronger than in the others, the fire of Clan-pride. When they came to the steep path leading down to the road near Glentarkin, he led their songs, for victory was very near. The boat was a crushing weight on the shoulders of men who would have hesitated to undertake such a journey unencumbered; but they had achieved the impossible; they had proved that the lads were the lads.
From Glentarkin the snowdrifts were deep, but a few travelers during that day had cleared a path, and they ran along the side of the loch shouting with triumph. A roisterer coming home late that night would have bolted for fear; here were four storm—lashed giants running with a row-boat through the snow, laughing as they went. But the laughter was grim, with a note of fearful anticipation. These were Macnabs, with anger in their hearts.
They halted and took their breath, tightened their belts and made their dirks ready to hand. Then they launched the boat, and leapt in to paddle their way across awkwardly with the branches of trees broken by the storm. The island loomed no more than a hundred yards ahead, and there was a light shining from the little fortress. The sound of song and laughter came across the water.
“Ye will beach the boat and follow me,’ whispered lain. ‘Don’t trouble yourselves wi’ thoughts of mercy. We have an insult to think over. . .”
The door showed no chink of light. But the dark shape of lain showed through the snow, and they gathered round him. His dirk thundered on the timber, and within the fort, there was silence.
“Open the door!” shouted lain. “Open the door we set the place on fire!”
Still silence. But there came a voice that trembled, and the question was asked: “Who’s there?”
“Who would ye least like to hear?” bellowed lain, and his brothers knew he was grinning with relish. “Answer me. Who would ye least like to hear?”
“Smooth lain Macnab” came the voice of a McNeish.
“Then I am he, but tis rough I’ll be this night!”
The crash of a tree-trunk splintered the wood, and the four brothers tumbled into the/room, dirks drawn, their eyes alight. The McNeishes had no time to rush to arms, and, mellow though they were with the Macnab whisky, they could not conceive that on such a night, retribution had indeed come to an island stronghold where they had felt doubly secure. The dirks with the crest of the Chief on the handles flashed and fell on drunken and defenseless men, and high above the sound of combat, through the sounds of awful carnage, there came the laughter of Smooth lain as he dealt out death without mercy. Eleven men, the heads of the Clan McNeish, lay dead and dying on the floor, and the only other note in that room of debauch was the whimpering of a child found hidden under a rough bed. At last they were fmished, and lain stood, sweating and bloodstained, with a gory trophy in his hand.
“A trophy for, the Laird!” he cried. “A trophy for the Laird o’ Macnab!” It was the head of the Chief of McNeish, through which had passed the Macnab whisky, and then the Macnab dirk.
But there was still work to do that night. They stumbled over lifeless forms and dragged out half-finished pitchers of whisky, poured them into one, and spilled the remainder over their faces and their blood-soaked clothes as they drank. They were drunk with fighting, and before they reached the shore again in their boat, they were drunk with spirit. But they set off down the track again with the pitcher and the head of McNeish hanging by the hair, and never noticed the ever-raging storm.
Before dawn they were back at Eilean Ran. The Laird was still keeping watch on the old house, knowing that Clan history was being made that night. They marched in and flung the gory head at his feet.
“Na biodh fiamh oirbh” said lain, “Dread naught!” They called for mugs, and in silence toasted the old man whom they had honored with their courage. They had crushed the Clan McNeish for ever, and they had given the Clan Macnab its crest.
The head is still the crest of the Clan, and wondering tourists gaze at it in the windows of the hotel at Callander, guessing at its meaning. For years the rowing-boat lay on the shore near Neish Island, and when it began to rot, the crofters took its timbers away to keep for their families, telling them the story of that famous journey. The little boat found its way into the crest also, and the ghillies of the Highlands to-day have their own convictions as to the route taken over the hills that night, some saying they went right over to Ardeonaig before they climbed the heights. But all agree that the Macnab brothers of 1612 were men whose strength and courage will never be known again.
So runs the most famous legend of the Clan Macnab.
"The Great Feud - Part two" (to be added later)
"The Great Feud - part one" (to be added later)
Francis Macnab (to be added later)
NOTE: Some portions of this page are still "under construction" but we will finish soon.
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I am wondering if there is an English translation of these documents that is readily available. I have a copy of “Kings and Kingship in Early Scotland” by Marjorie O. Anderson, which discusses the early sources and “Scotland, The Making of the Kingdom by Archibald A. M. Duncan.
As for a DNA project, as far as I know none has been begun for the Clan Macnab, though if one were to be begun I would be very interested. Though my connection to them is through my mother (birth name McNab) I do have living relatives who are descendants, in the male line, from John McNabb of Glasgow, my earliest known McNabb ancestor. Since we do not know where he was born, we would like to compare our DNA with those of others of the name Macnab to see if we have a common ancestor, an indicating he may have been born in or near the traditional clan territory.
BTW there is a SCOTT-DNA list on rootsweb ( scot-dna-l@rootsweb.com ) which has had some recent postings you may be interested in. One of them contains a link to a press release by Mark MacDonald the Genealogist for the MacDonalds who has been running a Y DNA project on them. Most have a non-Norse R1b Y chromosome. The Chiefs have R1a1.
(http://listsearches.rootsweb.com/cgi-bin/ifetch2?/u1/textindices/G/GENEALOGY-DNA+2004+14773453734+F)
David Rorer
From: Douglas mackinnon [mailto:mackinnondh@yahoo.co.uk]
Sent: Wednesday, August 24, 2005 11:45 AM
To: David Rorer
Subject: RE: Clan Aba
Many thanks for your reply.
The manuscript which you describe reads very much like the 10th century continuation of the Senchus Fer n'Alban. This work was an Irish record of the Scottish royal family. The original 7th century document gave quite an acurate acount of the Dal Riada royals, however, the 10th century continuator derives practically ALL of the Highland clans from the Cinel Labhran-the Lorn line of the old Dal Riada royal family. I need to point out that the date of this document is around 1056, i.e the reign of MacBeth, a king whose family was of the Labhran line of the old Dal Riada royal house, as oposed to Malcolm II who was of Kenneth Mac Alpin's family. My own study of this 10th century manuscript has revealed inaccuracies and it seems alot like "Pro Labhran" propaganda. I would regard this document with caution.
Lately, a number of clans have embarked upon DNA sampling to derive there true origins. Since this is much more accurate, maybe Clan an Aba should consider it?
Kind regards
Douglas
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David Rorer <drorer@fuse.net> wrote:
From the Clan History, written by James Charles Macnab of Macnab, the current chief, based on research carried out in the 50s by the late Alexander Macnab of Macnab (his uncle).
“According to tradition the original ancestor was the younger son of Kenneth McAlpine, the King of the Scots who united the Picts and the Scots. This younger son was Abbot of Glendochart and Strathern, and the Macnab’s derive from a holder of that Abbacy in his (Kenneth McAlpine’s) reign.”
The clan history then goes on as follows:
“The Macnab’s are members of a larger clan grouping; Siol-an-Alpine otherwise called Clan Alpine, together with the MacGregor, the MacKinnons, the Grants, the Mcquarries and the MacAulays.
Skene’s “Celtic Scotland” 1880, Volume III, pages 338 and 362-5 and Appendix VIII explains that the Books of Ballimote (1383 A.D.) and Leccan (1407 A.D.) appear to derive from the same original; but that the two former sources only give information about a few of the Clans. The manuscript of 1467 alone gives the descent of the Clan Macnab from Feradach, the father of Saint Fillan, through Ferchar Og Abraruadh the nephew of Saint Fillan, Donald Dom and Cormac to Gilbert of Bovain. These early manuscripts are, however, suspect and contain anomalies. Too much store should not be set by them. The genealogy as contained in the 1467 manuscript, if this is accepted, is set out in Appendix A. The number of generations shown would suitably fill the gap between St. Fillan and Gilbert the first Chief (i.e. 703-1336).
Other Clans shown as descended from Cormac are the Clan Andres (Ross), the MacKenzies, the Mathesons, the Macduffys, the MacGregor, the MacQuarries, the MacKinnons, the MacMillans and the MacLennans.
Shown as descended from Donald Donn are the MacLarens, the MacNaughtons and the Mackays, and from Ferchar Og Abraruadh the MacLeans, in addition to the Macnabs.
Clan Chattan, the MacKintoshes and the Camerons are shown as descended from Feradach, through Ferchar Fada, brother of St Fillan and King of DalRiada[1] <#_ftn1> (died 697) and father of Ferchar Og Abaruadh.”
Note the qualifier: “These early manuscripts are, however, suspect and contain anomalies. Too much store should not be set by them.’
These genealogies are based on oral traditions which were not written down until centuries after the events and persons they describe and no one can say if the traditions derived from them are based on historical fact.
About St. Fillan the clan history states:
“There were two saints called Fillan. The earlier was an Irish Celt of the race of Aengus, King of Leinster. He died on June 22, 520 A.D. His chapel and grave are at Dundurn at the eastern end of Loch Earn. His Font is in Dundurn Church and his “chair” is on St. Fillans Hill, where are also his spring and “basin.”
The later St Fillan was a Scot, the son of Eerach or Ferdach of the race of Fiatach Finn. He succeeded St. Mundus as Abbot of Kilmun and then moved to Glendochart whence his mother Kentigerna, the most devout of women, retired to the Nun’s Island on Loch Lomond and died in 734 A.D. The name Fillan (Faolan) means “Wolf Cub”. The ruins of his chapel are at Kirkton between Tyndurm and Crianlarich in Strathfillan. His “pool” and “stone bed,” which were supposed to cure the insane, are still there. His pastoral staff, or crozier, (the Quigreach), which was carried before the Clan in battle, and his bell are in the National Museum in Edinburgh. His left arm, which was luminous enough to help him to write at night, was enshrined in a casket after his death.”
Then further we have from the Encyclopedia Britannica 14th edition of 1926
“Saint Fillan, or Faelan, the name of two Scottish saints, of Irish origin, whose lives are of a legendary character. The St. Fillan whose feast is kept on June 20 had churches dedicated to him at Ballyheyland, Queen’s county, Ireland, and at Loch Earn, Perthshire. The other, who is commerated on Jan 9, was specially venerated at Cluain Mavscua, County Westmeath, Ireland, and about the 8th or 9th century at Strathfillan, Perthshire, Scotland, where there was an ancient monastery dedicated to him. This monastery became a cell of the abbey of canons regular at Inchaffray, and was supposed to posses the Saint’s crozier, the head of which is now deposited in the National museum of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland.
The legend of the second saint is given in the Bollandist Acta SS. (1643) see also D. O’Hanlon, Lives of Irish Saints (Dublin 1825)”
I do not believe that anyone, now living, can say with any certainty which of these traditions, in re the origins of the Macnab chiefs, is correct. Perhaps the author of the clan history, James C. Macnab of Macnab, who is being copied on this message, can offer you a better insight.
David Rorer
From: Douglas mackinnon [mailto:mackinnondh@yahoo.co.uk]
Sent: Thursday, August 11, 2005 6:18 AM
To: drorer@fuse.net
Subject: Clan Aba
Dear David
I am currently investigating the origins of those families who claim to be the surviving stems of the ancient royal House of Alpin, the so-called "Siol Ailpein".
I wish to solve a genealogical contradiction concerning the origins of the Macnab chiefs.
Virtually all the clan histories describe the chiefs as being descended from the brother of St Fillan AND the son of King Kenneth Mac Alpin.
Clearly, the chiefs are EITHER descended from St. Fillan's brother, OR they are descended from Kenneth Mac Alpin' s younger son. They cannot be descended from BOTH these men at the same time.
Perhaps you could solve this riddle for me.
Kind regards
Douglas Mackinnon
mackinnondh@yahoo.co.uk
[1] <#_ftnref1> DalRiada, the name of two ancient Gaelic kingdoms, one in Ireland and the other in Scotland. Irish DalRiada was the district which now forms the northern part of county Antrim, and from which about A.D. 500 some emigrants crossed over to Scotland, and founded in Argyllshire the Scottish kingdom of DalRiada. For a time Scottish DalRiada appears to have been dependent upon Irish DalRiada, but about 575 King Aidan secured its independence. One of Aidan’s successors, Kenneth, also became king of the Picts about 843, and gradually the name DalRiada both in Ireland and Scotland fell into disuse. Encyclopedia Britannica 14th edition c. 1929