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.
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| 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.”
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| 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.
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| 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
13th 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 22nd 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
