No fig leaves, please
SOME claim he is an ancient symbol, perhaps a likeness of the Greco-roman god Hercules, although the earliest recorded mention of the Giant only dates from 1694. Others suggest that he was created to mock Oliver Cromwell. These are the most favoured theories, but all of them have their drawbacks. Local folklore has also long held him to be an aid to fertility.’ If you don’t know which landmark Mike Clark of the Cerne Historical Society is talking about, you can hardly call yourself British.
A 180ft-tall chalk man with an impressive, 36ft appendage—which survived a 1920s campaign calling for the modesty of a fig leaf, backed by two bishops, and illicit visits from couples hoping to conceive through the ages—has an even larger club gripped in his right hand. He has overlooked the village of Cerne Abbas, Dorset, from at least the 17th century.
This month, fond local volunteers are giving him a makeover—the Giant needs re-chalking every 10 years or so and even received a National Trust nose job back in 1993. Since his more
recent revamp in 2008, he’s become discoloured and weeds have blurred his sharp outlines, although he is happily surrounded by wildflowers, including orchids, thyme, marjoram and small scabious, attracting marsh fritillary and Duke of Burgundy butterflies. Grazing sheep do their bit to keep the grass at bay.
‘Re-chalking the Giant is challenging in many ways, not only due to its size, but because of the sheer steepness of the slope he’s on,’ explains Natalie Holt, countryside manager for the Trust. ‘The first job is to dig out all the old chalk before hammering in 17 tonnes of new chalk [by hand]. The Giant is vulnerable to erosion from rainwater, which can collect in its chalk outline and run down the hill at speed. Therefore, it’s important for us to ensure that the new chalk is packed as tightly as possible.’