The Significance of the name Laughlin Quin
Sechnall and the Origins of a Legacy
Secundinus, known in Irish as Sechnall and today as Seachnall, flourished in the 5th century. He founded and became the patron saint of Domhnach Sechnaill in County Meath. Though often described in medieval tradition as a disciple of St. Patrick and one of the first Bishops of Armagh, this association is likely a later invention by Armagh chroniclers eager to consolidate Ireland’s Christian origin story around Patrick.
In truth, Secundinus may have been a missionary in his own right, possibly a companion of Palladius, the earlier bishop sent by Rome before Patrick’s arrival. This interpretation reshapes his role not as a follower but as a parallel figure in the Christianization of Ireland, echoing the legacy of Conn Cétchathach, a significant ancestor in Irish history.
My ancestor, Laughlin, derives his name from the phrase “Servant of Secundinus,” a deeply significant title that has passed down our lineage since the 5th century. This connection is more than cultural — it is personal, ancestral, and historical, intertwining with our Irish ancestry.
Who Was Secundinus Named For?
It is possible that Secundinus was named after an earlier saint — Secundus of Asti, a noble Roman officer turned Christian martyr, executed under Emperor Hadrian around 119 CE. His feast day is celebrated on March 29, though local observance in Asti, Italy, occurs on the first Tuesday in May.
According to legend, Secundinus was:
- A Roman patrician and officer
- A friend of the city prefect, Sapricius
- Converted to Christianity after encounters with Saint Marcian (bishop of Tortona) and others
- Beheaded for refusing to renounce his faith
Churches dedicated to him date back as early as the 9th century, and his name would have carried considerable weight for early missionaries like Sechnall — and the people who named their children in his honor, including those in the Quinn family history.
A Will That Survived a Revolution
In Colonial North Carolina, the story of my ancestor Laughlin Quin intersects with another pivotal figure — Governor Josiah Martin, the last Royal Governor of the province.
On February 5, 1774, Laughlin drafted his Last Will and Testament, a document that remarkably survived the chaos of the American Revolution. Governor Martin personally endorsed and stored the will among a small collection of personal and official items in his desk.
By sheer fortune, the will was not destroyed when Martin’s home was attacked by Whigs on April 24, 1775. His family was evacuated to New York, and the most valuable Crown documents were shipped aboard his flagship, HMS Cruizer.
The will remained in one of the "miscellaneous loose boxes" that would become the earliest contents of the Secretary of State Papers in Raleigh — where I eventually found it, right in my hometown.
Read or download the will here:
https://digital.ncdcr.gov/Documents/Detail/quinn-loftin-carteret-county/801217
Hidden Among Giants
Research revealed that Laughlin and other Quinns appear just pages apart from the Martin family in the 1730s Tithe Books of St. Michan’s Church, Dublin — a subtle but meaningful geographic and historical connection.
When Fort Johnston was destroyed in July 1775, Martin fled aboard the Cruizer and spent the rest of the war supporting Loyalist efforts from offshore. His foresight in preserving British documents — and his haste in fleeing — left behind only a few papers, including Laughlin’s will.
A Historian's Treasure
The document itself is a massive 24x36 inches, about two-thirds the size of a full poster. You can still see the fold marks that reduce it to roughly 8.5x11 inches in the scanned image.
I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have discovered this artifact firsthand at the North Carolina Archives, where it has been used for over 50 years as an archivist training piece. I was also the last non-archivist to physically handle it before it was permanently retired from public access.
Legacy, Lineage and Continuity
From Seachnall’s Christian mission to Laughlin’s colonial will, my family’s story winds through faith, rebellion, resilience, and recordkeeping. It is a story shaped by martyrs, monarchs, missionaries — and preserved by the power of ink, memory, and archival survival.
