He does not, however, relate the most wonderful part of the affair, which comes to us through Fulke Fitz-Warine, an outlawed baron of the 13th Century. Fulke tells how after Gogmagog was slain, a spirit of the devil entered into his body, and came into these parts, and long held possession of the country that never Briton dared to inhabit it. And how afterwards, King Bran, the son of Doneval, caused the ancient city of the giants to be rebuilt, repaired the walls, and strengthened the great fosses, and he became Burgh and Great March. And the devil came by night and took away everything that was therein, since which time nobody has ever inhabited there.
But Payn Peverel, a proud and courageous knight, heard this story, and determined to brave the demon. The latter appeared, in a fearful tempest, under the semblance of Gogmagog; he carried in his hand a
great club, and from his mouth cast fire and smoke, with which the whole town was illuminated. However, devoutly making the sign of the Cross, the knight attacked him so fiercely with his trusty sword that ere long the demon cried for mercy,—and disclosed the secret treasures of the town, promising Payn that he should be lord of all that soil.
Another account says that there were two brothers, Gog and Magog, who were taken prisoners by Brute and led in triumph to the place where London now stands; and when a palace was erected by the side of the river Thames, on the present site of Guildhall, these two giants were chained to the palace gates as porters. In memory of which their effigies, after their deaths, were set up as they now appear in Guildhall.
Certain it is that these two colossal figures, the older carrying a "morning star" (the spiked globe fastened to a long pole by a chain with which horsemen used to demolish their enemies in a mêlée) have kept "watch and ward" over London gates for centuries—and were believed by thousands of children to descend from their pedestals and go to dinner when St. Paul's clock struck twelve.
In 1415 victorious Henry V was welcomed into London by a male and female giant standing at the entrance to the Bridge, the man holding an axe and a bunch of keys; a few years later Henry VI was similarly greeted; in 1554, upon the public entry of Phillip and Mary, two great images of giants stood at the bridge, one named Gogmagog the Albion, one Corineus; and all through the 16th and 17th centuries
these mighty reminders of the old tale figured in public pageants.
These figures were made only of wicker-work and pasteboard, put together with great art and ingenuity; and these two terrible original giants had the honor yearly to grace my Lord Mayor's show, being carried in great triumph in the time of the pageants; and when that eminent service was over, remounted their old stations in Guildhall, till by reason of their very great age, old time, with the help of a number of city rats and mice, had eaten up all their entrails. The dissolution of the two old, weak, and feeble giants, gave birth to the two present substantial and majestic giants; who, by order, and at the City charge, were formed and fashioned. Captain Richard Saunders, an eminent carver in King Street, Cheapside, was their father; who, after he had completely finished, clothed, and armed these, his two sons, they were immediately advanced to their lofty stations in Guildhall, which they have peacefully enjoyed ever since the year 1708.
For over two hundred years now these fourteen-foot hollow wooden figures have stood in the Guildhall, one holding his spiked ball, the other a halberd. Many a parade have they figured in; many a child has been frightened by them; many a visitor has wondered at them; but few enough have ever read the tale of Corineus's encounter with the terrible original.