The last letter of a condemned man is a sad thing; a last letter undelivered, is tragic.

There is something about someone’s final words, the last messages they leave before they die, that are uniquely poignant. For most of us they are the only windows into the mind of one immediately facing what comes to us all, death.

They are the insights into final thoughts, the most deeply and long-felt emotions; the last chances to set old wrongs right and send messages of love and comfort to those who will grieve. The last letter of a condemned man is a sad thing to behold, but a last letter undelivered, is tragic.  

This year the final letters of executed prisoners, Jimmy Melia from Dundalk and Thomas McKeown from Bellurgan, made their way back to Co Louth; but 90 years too late and their intended recipients, Melia's brother and McKeown’s mother, never got the words of comfort.

Patricia Marmion, a relation of Alphonsus Marmion who was to deliver the letters in 1923, travelled from America to bring them closer to their intended destinations. It is hoped that descendants of the families may come forward and the messages of Melia and McKeown will, in some respect, finally make their way to their families.

“I am as happy as when I was christened,” Melia wrote to his brother; McKeown told his mother he was only going on a “long journey"; words that could have brought solace to the families who would mourn them.

They were young men, well liked, caught-up in a civil war, and whose deaths caused widespread grief. Copies of the letters are on display in the Louth County Museum, but their origin is in January 1923, in an Italianate Gaol, where two men awaited execution and another was to go free.

Thomas McKeown's letter to his mother who never read it.

The journey that brought Melia and McKeown to pen their final letters in a dank cell in the Dundalk Gaol is sketchy with records lost, memories faded and some parts untold.  

For almost two years Civil War, caused by the Anglo Irish Treaty, tore Ireland apart and its legacy is still seen in Irish society today. Civil war is a cruel master: capital punishment was reintroduced by a provisional ‘Free State’ government in September 1922, the war not yet won. It was reserved for those who engaged in terrorist offences and would be handed down after trail by military tribunal.

Thomas McKeown, an anti-treaty man and thought to be a member of the Irregulars, was found in possession of firearms; 20 year-old James Melia was charged with a similar offence having been found with arms at Dowdalls Hill, Dundalk, Co Louth. The ‘terrorists’ were arrested, tried, and sentenced to death. These condemned men spent Christmas in jail, and on January 12 1923, four months before the war came to an end, Thomas McKeown was shot by firing squad. Ten days later on January 12, Melia met the same fate.

Their deaths caused much outrage and sorrow: “perhaps the most poignant feature of the executions at the time was that three of the lads were barely out of their teens. Besides, all of them had been extremely popular and their deaths under such circumstances, saddened everybody no matter what their political views were,” reads an article about the executed men.  (Dundalk Democrat October 18 1924)

The first to face the firing squad was Thomas McKeown. On the night before he was to be shot, Thomas wrote to his mother. He asks her not to be sorry for him as he will be with his father in heaven and promises to watch over her. "I suppose all who know me will feel sorry for me but poor little James I fear will feel it the most. I wish yous all the best of luck one and all of you," wrote Thomas. He didn’t spend the night in the dark after he'd finished writing, he asked for a gas light to be brought in so he could spend his last hours speaking with God. 

Six men were executed in Dundalk Gaol that January, Melia was among the last and would have heard the shots that took his friends. James Melia, Jimmy to those that knew him, wrote to his brother: “Well old sport, there is not much you can do for me only pay Joe Murray 2/- I owe him. Then I will clear with the world.”  

Jimmy Melia's letter to his Brother written January 21 1923

A young man with faith, Melia seems to have made peace with his fate: “please don’t worry for me. I received the Last Sacrament of the church and Fr Kerr was with me for a couple of hours and I am as happy as when I was Christened. I am only going on a long journey and I am only going to meet my poor mother & father & Sheila we will be able to be together in a happier land waiting for you and Paddy,” he wrote.

Both men spoke of their reconciliation with god, and promised they would be waiting for their loved ones in Heaven. The men wanted their families to know their souls were safe, and that they would see them all soon.

“Do not be sorry for me for I will soon be with my Father in heaven and I will watch over you while you live. The longest life is but short so you will soon be with me,” wrote Thomas McKeown.

Their families never read their final words, and for a time, they went without their bodies to bury too. The Government of the day only returned the men’s’ bodies to their families in October 1924.  Their burial was one of the most renowned events in local history, one that has been seen at many civil war funerals since.

An article from the Dundalk Democrat at the time describes “the scene as of the most extraordinary occurrence to which Dundalk was ever treated.” As the two men and four others were buried three volleys of shots were fired from revolvers as a gun salute, in response the nearby Military rushed the mourners with bayonets extended and a graveside gun-fight ensued, with hundreds caught in the crossfire.

As the men were laid to rest to the sound of gunfire and panic, their last letters, their calls for prayers and to fight on, the words of comfort for the families who stood by their graves were en route to America where they would stay for the next 88 years.

 20 years old Jimmy Meila bids a final farewell to his brother, Peter. 

Alphonsus Marmion was freed from Dundalk Gaol sometime after the men’s’ deaths and took the men’s letters with him. Here again, the story breaks down, little is known for certain and there is much room for guessing:

What is certain is before arriving in Dundalk Gaol, Alphonsus had been imprisoned in Newbridge, Co Kildare for 10 days. He had been found using a knife to make a ring out of a royal coin and was arrested for disfiguring the Kings Coin. He prized the instrument of his imprisonment dearly and passed it onto his son, Harry who also treasured it too, passing it back to a niece in Ireland not long before he died.

The descendants of the Marmion family gathered together to see the letters passed to Louth County Museum, but even with so many memories gathered, Alphonsus’s journey and the letters, is unclear.

Some of the family remember being told that Alpholnsus was associated with bombing of the Dundalk Gaol on July 26, 1922 by anti-treaty factions, freeing more than 100 of their comrades, including Frank Aiken. Many of the men had been recaptured. (Incidentally the bombing of Dundalk Gaol is an astonishing and gripping story in itself – more to come on this) Alphonsus’s name is not in the registry at Dundalk gaol at the time but it is still believed that he was in prison with the men when they were executed. Another thing is certain, that Alphonsus, who they knew would leave prison one day, was given Melia and McKeown’s letters with instructions to deliver them to their families.

Melia and McKeown were executed in January 1923 and it seems certain that Alphonsus had the letters from then to the day he left Ireland for Liverpool in 1924. The Civil War was over only in name, in the hearts of many it raged on and the scars of war were raw still. There may have been safety concerns, some of the family suggest he had gone into hiding in the area before fleeing for his safety. Nothing is known and the stories that have emerged are different and incomplete.

But what no one knows is why they were never delivered. Alphonsus did not disregard the letters; he kept them safe and secures all his life. He did not keep them secret either; his family who visited him in America knew of the letters, a few were allowed to see them, fewer again to handle them.

With his death, much of the story passed away with him. But his son, Harry, had the same reverence for the letters his father had and he too kept them safely. In 2008 Harry Marmion passed away, his wife, Patricia, thought that it was time the letters returned home. Patricia, their daughter, Elizabeth and granddaughter, Niamh, brought them back to Ireland, to Dundalk, home.  

Even with much of the descendants of the Marmion family in one place piecing the puzzle together, only snapshots of the past emerges and much of the story is supposed. These final words, unread by those that mattered most, are among the sorriest of letters to read, their story incomplete, but what is clear is that they are steeped in tragedy and saddest parts of their tail are yet  untold.

Thomas Mc Keown’s last letter the night before his execution

13^th January 1923

My Dear Mother,

Do not be sorry for me for I will soon be with my Father in heaven and I will watch over you while you live. The longest life is but short so you will soon be with me. All you can do now if to pray for me as my soul may be waiting at the gates of heaven for your prayers. I was at confession tonight and will be at holy mass in the morning and also will receive holy communion which will be offered by Rev Father McKeown Administrator Dundalk and Eamonn Donnellan P.P. H. Town for the welfare of my soul so I feel quite happy and fully reconciled to Gods holy will. Indeed I would not be better done for if I were at home. Father McKeown has obtained permission to have the gas lighted in my cell all night so I am not going to bed. Instead will spend the night speaking to god in whole presence I shall be before this time tomorrow.

I suppose all who know me will feel sorry for me but poor little James I fear will feel it the most. I wish yous all the best of luck one and all of you. I shall see you no more; But let none weep for me when I am gone for it is for Ireland and Ireland’s freedom I die. And it is also the holy will of god. And you my comrades, pray for me and remain true to the faith and to the I.R.A. And I will pray for you and Ireland in Heaven.

So now, Good night, and Good-bye

Forever.

Jimmy Melia’s Last Letter

Executed on Monday 22^nd January 1923 in Dundalk Prison,

Dear Brother,

Received your cigarettes sweets & oranges and I am very thankful for them. Well old sport, there is not much you can do for me only pay Joe Murray 2/- I owe him. Then I will clear with the world. Well Peter, please don’t worry me I received the Last Sacrament of the church and Fr Kerr was with me for a couple of hours and I am as happy as when I was Christened. I am only going on a long journey and I am only going to meet my poor mother & father & Sheila we will be able to be together in a happier land waiting for you and Paddy, Nellie, Maisey, Frank and James.

Well Peter I am thankful to almighty god for is kindness to me and my pals for giving us such a long time to prepare before we go to meet him.  Remember me. To all my old pals and give them my best regards and tell them to say a prayer now and again for me and don’t forget to say one yourself. Well Peter, I might to have saying that and know you will pray for me because you loved me as a brother as I loved you. Well Peter, I think  I shall come to an end trusting that they Almighty God in heaven will be good to us as I am sure he will and also to you and all my pals.

I am ending up now until we meet again in Heaven, So keep your heart and fight  for the old cause till it’s won.

For dearest of Brothers, your loving Brother

Jimmee  XXXXX