I found an old newspaper article about an old Chatham character and thought it was worth sharing. I have transcribed the article below and added a couple of pictures from the Couchman Collection. I'm unsure of which paper, reporter or date it is, but it is presumably from the early 20th century and seems to be part of a regular column called "Medway Towns Talk."
THE TRAGEDY OF WALTER BRISACWalter Henry Sergant, De Brisac.
Born March, 1824.
Died December, 1893.
Soldier - Pedlar - Gentleman.This simple but arresting epitaph on a gravestone in Chatham Cemetery has given rise to many queries.
Who was Walter Brisac and what manner of man was he?
Hundreds of chatham folk will remember the eccentric old pedlar, too much of a gentleman even to press his wares, but few, I believe, are aware of his story.
To the younger generation he is but a name on a gravestone, yet a strangely fascinating name.
They will be disappointed to hear his story, and sorry for the poor old man.
This is no story of a hero, there is nothing of romance in it, yet the tale of a ragged old soldier hermit who pedalled his wares in Chatham for years and died a pauper's death in a hovel is worth the telling. I managed to ferret it out this week.
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FROM COUNTY CORK
Walter Henry Sergeant de Brisac, son of a lieutenant in the R.M.L.I., was born in County Cork in 1824, and enlisted at the age of 18 in the 28th Regiment of Foot.
Stationed at Chatham, he embarked in 1844 with with a detachment from Gravesend to join companies of his regiment serving in China.
That was an evil day for Walter de Brisac. It marked the commencement of his downfall, which ended years later in the finding of his emaciated body, clad in its rags, in the hovel he called his home.
After two years in China he was transferred to India, where he remained until after nearly 10 years' service with the colours abroad, sickness overtook him and he was invalided home, discharged with an exemplary character.
"An exemplary character," however, is not enough to keep a sick body and soul together as Brisac found out when his temporary pension ran out after a year at home.
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HIS BIGGEST FIGHT
Then commenced the biggest fight he fought in his life. He applied to the Royal Hospital, Chelsea, for a pension without success. Again and again he vainly tried pegging away first at this authority then at that, each time with the same result.
Finally he wrote personally to the Secretary of State for War.
After recounting his service, he pathetically concludes:
"I have since my discharge done all I could to secure a living but, as age increases, I begin to find it exceedingly hard to earn my daily bread, especially as everything is now so dear ... praying you, if possible, to grant me some small allowance so that I need not be utterly destitute."What the reply to this letter was we do not know - but Brisac never got his pension.
For years he was a pathetically familiar figure in Chatham Streets. With his pitiful collection of soaps and buttons and laces he went from door to door but one "No" was enough for the old soldier. He never asked you to buy a second time.
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A PUBLIC FAVOURITE
By his superior manner and always gentlemanly demeanour, Brisac earned himself a great reputation. He became a great favourite.
So popular in fact, that when he died the public subscribed to save him from a pauper's grave and bought the gravestone to commemorate him.
Even today, it appears Brisac is not completely forgotten, for when I visited his grave this week I found a vase of iris at the foot of the headstone.
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