Jules Leotard made, literally, "one giant leap for mankind" one hundred and ten years before Neil Armstrong. Once he had done it, the public demanded that he keep doing the same thing. Had he lived beyond 33 years, he may have declined and been forgotten. The same may be imagined of other legends who died young, such as James Dean, Marilyn Monroe, Elvis Presley, or even Jesus of Nazareth, who was also 33 at his death.

      Jean-Francois Lyotard, having made his mark at the age of 23,[23] worked in a context wherein one could not keep repeating the same trick. Apart from the lecture circuit, a philosopher has an obligation to keep presenting new 'tricks,' or variations on a theme, which Lyotard did for fifty years. Not for him were the excited crowd of some hundreds, intoxicated by the occasion, who would believe the 'hype,' remember more than they actually saw, and spread the artist's fame, gaining glory by association. No, the philosopher must see his work published, or engage in recorded seminars. These words will be stored, studied, analysed, generally by people who will see, not more, but less than was presented to them. His words will last, and continue to be read and believed even after he has discarded them and the ideology that inspired them. He may be attacked, ridiculed or, like McLuhan, ignored by his peers and descendants. His leaps into the unknown, though bold and spectacular at the time, may eventually be judged unnecessary and misguided rather than courageous.

      Lyotard will be, and was, remembered by academics. His concept of post-modernism (although he did not coin the phrase) will be current until superseded. Like Plato, Marx, Freud and McLuhan he may be remembered by inaccurate slogans, clichs or stereotypes.

      Jules Leotard, equally meteoric in his time, had the dubious fortune to have his name attached to a costume. Like other eponyms--Hoover, Biro, Wellington, Sandwich, Macintosh-his associated object will transcend his actual life's achievements. In the history of circus, however, he will always be respected.

      How did word of Leotard's achievement travel around the western world in the mid-nineteenth century? In the world of circus, there has always been a bush, telegraph, or grapevine second to none.

      The European Circus community forms a little world. It is composed of some thousands of people who, directly or indirectly, all know each other. In the several dozen European Circuses work friends and family members. They are purveyors of information which they transmit by telephone or courier. And then, into the little space enclosed by the ring boxes news travels from all over the continent. The trapezist's cousin working for Robert's in England, lets it be known that the son of Untel the clown is to wed the Director's daughter, while the animal trainer's brother who is with Krone in Germany, has information about the accident that befell a well-known wire-walker. It's a veritable 'Arab telephone.'[24]

      Circus fans, a remarkable species of dedicated acolytes, also act as the stationary notice-board for the peripatetic circus companies, by gathering and passing on news.

      Thus, performers are generally aware of what acts are being performed, and who is performing what new trick.[25] Sam Keen describes a trip to Las Vegas where he sat, "a fledgling among eagles" with some of the world's greatest aerialists, the poets and philosophers of the trapeze. It is at gatherings such as this that the past and future are assessed.

      I had been included in a community of celebrants, an ecclesia of the air, gathered from the corners of the earth into an improbable tabernacleThere was a conspiracy there - a breathing together - a high flying companionship, an appreciation of excellence, a mutual admiration, a generous sharing of knowledge.[26]

      Inevitably, there is a cultural synchronicity across the world in circus as in other human activities. Circus Oz in Melbourne, and Suitcase Circus in Edinburgh both arose, apparently from nothing, in 1977.[27] "New Circus" chronicles how Big Apple Circus, New York and Circus Roncalli, Austria, also arose at about the same time.[28]

      Leotard's fame certainly spread far and fast in 1859, as he was celebrated for being the first man to fly through the air. Many promoters and Ringmasters will use the words 'first,' 'only,' and 'best,' and this is thought to be within the generally acceptable limits of ballyhoo. Some artists are obsessed, such as Scott of the Antarctic, with the question of priority. A John Heurer of Hamilton, Ohio, advertised in 1883 that he was "the only person on earth who stands with his head on a swinging bar, and while balancing in this difficult position Juggles Balls, Drinks Water, Fires Pistols." etc. "I challenge the world $1,000 in gold to anyone who will do my act. TRY IT AND BREAK YOUR NECK."[29] It is not easy to ascertain whether philosophers or cultural theorists were ever so adamant about their originality.

      Among these latter groups, perhaps only Plato and Freud-and possibly Marx and Socrates-have earned their own popular eponymous adjectives. Platonic love and the Freudian slip have entered common use, but it is hard enough even to construct an adjective for Saussure, Bourdieu, Derrida, Foucault or Barthes.

      Possibly, the cult of personality is not important in the history of philosophy, except, perhaps, to publishers. It may be the case that each stage completed, like a kilometer of railway track, is simply a necessary connection between the past and the future. Track inspectors, looking back, may ask who was responsible for certain bumps, curves or blind sidings, and students of theory per se will, by reason of academic speciality, choose to get off the train and dwell for years alongside a particular stretch, extolling its virtues.

      In the circus, fame and posterity are assured by spectacular innovations (Leotard, Colleano), longevity and popular success (Gunther Gebel-Williams, Coco) or by a spectacular accident (Lilian Leitzel, Karl Wallenda).[30]

      However, not all circuses publicise their stars, instead preferring to promote their own generic name. Some small companies hardly bother, and the advance agent simply plasters the town with signs that "The Circus is Coming!" At the other end of the scale, the first real multi-national circus corporation, "Cirque du Soleil," seldom promotes individual performers. One traditional reason is that the top-billed artist could exert pressure on management for better conditions or pay by threatening to leave, and thus invalidating a season's publicity.

      In fact, the apparently radical Soleil follows many of the hallowed circus traditions: saturation marketing, highly visible presence, subtle put-down of the opposition, and, most of all, that seductive blend of 'otherness' and familiarity. In this case, it is the familiarity that the upmarket clientele feel with comfortable seats and stunning production values. The otherness is represented by trans-cultural titles-Saltimbanco, Alegria, O, Quidam, Dralion, Nouba, and costumes and music belonging to no known culture, yet drawn from many exotic sources.

      Ringling Brothers, Barnum and Bailey, hitherto known as 'The Big One,' traditionally features a star, la Hollywood, each season. When I saw the Blue Unit in 1984, it was Gebel-Williams; and, more recently, in 1996, at Madison Square Garden, it was Airiana who was shot daily from a cannon. This is just a different way of advertising, probably suiting the American market, where sport and entertainment news tends to focus on stories of individuals. Jules Leotard was one of the first performers promoted internationally in this way.

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