We have just come back from a week in Devon, in Ottery St. Mary. From the name, I was expecting a tiny hamlet, but it turns out to be a decent sized town. As it happens, I knew of Ottery St Mary before we went, not only from the signs on the A30, but as the byline from the introduction to A Diplomat In Japan, by Ernest Satow.
I wasn’t responsible for the choice of cottage we rented, so it was really a coincidence that we ended up in a town with strong Japanese history connections, but given that we did I felt that it would be a pretty poor show if I didn’t investigate at least a little. There were a couple of mentions of Satow in tourist leaflets, so my wife and I wandered into the tourist information to see if there was anything more. Unfortunately the regular information person was away due to illness, but her replacement was helpful and sent me to the local bookshop. The man in the bookshop was unable to give us any concrete info, but he sent us up the hill, to the church and the library. The library was shut, but we took a wander around the churchyard and, just as I was beginning to think it was an impossible task with no real point to it, we found his grave.
The beach was calling, but we managed to pop back a bit later when the library was open. At some point in all this my wife asked me, tongue in cheek, ‘what are you expecting to find – someone with a box of old documents or something?’, but as I mentioned, I was looking less out of expectation than simply: I was here, so I was looking. Anyway, the most knowledgable librarian was on holiday, so I left my details behind the desk, and spent a little time digging in the local history section.
I came across an article with a couple of photos and a description of Satow when he first arrived on Devon, bringing his Japanese manservant Saburo with him. And suddenly there was something unexpected – the idea of a Japanese servant in a small Devon town at the turn of the twentieth century. Satow’s story, and contribution to the birth of western scholarship on Japan is well known, but what story, what experiences must Saburo have to tell? What became of him? When, if at all did he return to Asia, or did he settle in the UK?
It reminds me of some of the modern scholarship on cosmopolitanism, which thinks as much of the local porters and guides and baggage carriers as it does their patrons from overseas. There is also some good stuff on the role of translators in nineteenth century exploration of Japan – specifically of Isabella Bird’s guide down the ‘unbeaten tracks’. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to find out any more, or even if I’ll have to time to look much, but still the idea of Saburo walking about Ottery St Mary 100 years ago persists, a reminder to think of all the historical actors and their experiences, and not just those great names.
Fireflies 