Will you be remembered in 1,000 years?

Hopeful contenders for everlasting fame must run the gauntlet of numerous challenges, including the jealousy of rivals and possible extinction of their own civilization and language. How do you remain remembered for generations?

I’m in the secluded western corner of London’s Highgate cemetery, looking at a large marble tomb. It’s long and box-like, with a life-sized sculpture of a dog slumped at its foot. The stone is mottled and tendrils of strangling ivy are creeping up its base. An inscription reads “Erected to the memory of Thomas Sayers”. Our guide asks the group if anyone has heard of this man. We shake our heads blankly. At the time of his death the situation was very different. It was the winter of 1865 and Sayers, who began his career as an illiterate bricklayer, had risen to become the most celebrated sportsman of the Victorian age. This was England’s first bare-knuckle fighting champion. His final match, which he fought largely one-handed in a Hampshire field, was watched by thousands. Special trains were chartered to transport the spectators, who included fellow Victorian superstars like the novelists Charles Dickens and William Thackeray. Even the Prime Minister of the day, Lord Palmerston attended; Parliament shortened its hours especially and Queen Victoria asked to be informed of the result.

When he died a few years later, the funeral procession stretched for two miles and included some 100,000 people. The cemetery descended into chaos as people climbed trees and trampled tombstones, hoping for a better view. One hundred and fifty two years on, his reputation has turned to dust. He’s still well known to history buffs and boxing obsessives – but to the rest of us, he needs an introduction.  The steady march of time has left many other similar casualties in its wake – people who have risen to dizzying heights of fame only to be largely forgotten. There’s the Greek poet Sappho, whose steamy verses titillated audiences for much of antiquity. The verses were so enchanting, one Athenian lawmaker said he felt that once he’d heard them, he could die. Continue reading...

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