CHAPTER VI.
GEORGE MADDOX (KNOWN IN HIS LATER BATTLES AS “THE VETERAN”)—1792–1809.
As a connecting link between the Second and Third Periods, George Maddox furnishes a career of some interest. He was a civil, facetious, illiterate man, but possessed of manly courage and forbearance. “Though,” says one who knew him, “George Maddox fought more battles than any man I knew of his time, he never had a spark of resentment in his composition. His hardihood and resolution in the battle were not more remarkable than the coolness, almost stoical, with which he spoke of victory or defeat, in his own natural and rough manner. He seemed satisfied, that having done his best, the best could do no more, and generally spoke strongly of the ‘goodness’ of the men who had given in to him.” Maddox was born in Tothill Fields, Westminster, in 1756. In his fiftieth year he entered the lists with the powerful Tom Cribb, then in the prime of his youth and freshness, and, after fighting an hour and a half, the odds were still in his favour. Seventy-six rounds and two hours and ten minutes of courageous fighting passed before “the Veteran” cried “enough!” Once more in his fifty-fifth year he met Bill Richmond, the black (whom he had formerly beaten in three rounds), and after an hour yielded to exhaustion. The spirit did not surrender, but nature left him.[[108]] There can be nothing added to this but the record of George’s boxing career.
George Maddox was as modest and independent as he was courageous. He never hung about sporting public-houses or low tap-rooms, and never sponged upon gentlemen, nor sought the patronage of the great. After a memorable fight he sunk into his desired obscurity, following his humble occupation, and content with his moderate earnings, as an industrious costermonger, a calling much more lucrative and numerous than in our times. Indeed the “donkey dragoons” of Westminster, as they were then termed, formed a formidable squadron; and, among the lower classes, the proprietor of a “neddy and tumbler”—as in the days of slang a donkey and cart were termed—was often a velveteened fancy-dressed person with gold as well as silver and copper in his pocket, or “skin,” a taste for “the Fancy,” an attendant at every sport, the owner of a “tyke” or two, and a “dealer in curiosities,”—rats, squirrels, ferrets, badgers, an occasional mongoose, and fancy “pets,” coming particularly within the range of his tastes and trading.
After many bye-battles, Maddox’s first regular contest was with Symonds (the Ruffian). This took place at Datchet, near Windsor, on Saturday, December 4, 1792. See Symonds, ante, 130.
This battle stands unparalleled for desperation and unflinching resolution in the annals of pugilism. The spot first named was Langley Broom, in Buckinghamshire, but magisterial interference preventing the rencontre, “the wayfarers crossed the Thames carrying their boards and quartering with them, and in a very few minutes erected a stage,” in the renowned Shaksperian “Datchet Mead.” We must here remark, that Maddox was two inches shorter and more than two stone lighter than Symonds, to appreciate the battle which followed. There is no report worthy of transcription of this tremendous fight which is described in generalities. “Columns of our paper would not suffice to detail the rallies, the knock-down blows, the alternate advantages and the gluttony which marked this surprising battle. ‘The Ruffian,’ who was nearly two stone heavier than his antagonist, was by far the most beaten, and totally blind, from the closing of both his eyes, before he would allow himself to be carried from off the stage. Maddox, of course, was not quite in so desperate a condition, as he had the best of the hitting in the rallies, especially towards the latter rounds. It was stated by an experienced amateur that Maddox put in two, sometimes three blows to Symonds’s one throughout the contest,” which lasted two hours, during which 100 rounds were fought.
On Monday, February 10, 1794, Maddox met Hooper, the tinman, but after a game fight of nearly an hour, surrendered to that formidable boxer. (See Hooper, ante, p. 107.)
Isaac Bittoon, a Jew, known for many years after to the visitors of the Fives Court and sparring saloons of the metropolis, was Maddox’s next opponent. Bittoon’s qualifications as a boxer will be found noticed under his name. The battle came off on Monday, December 13th, 1802, on Wimbledon Common. The ground first named was Wormwood Scrubs, but “on arriving there a goodly posse of the Bow Street runners, with a number of special constables, had possession of the ground. A council of war now directed that each man’s party should separate and meet again at the five-mile-stone on the Edgware road, to elude the vigilance of the myrmidons of the law. When George and his friends reached the rendezvous, no Jew was there, and they waited two hours in anxious expectation. All hopes of a battle that day were given up, when a messenger on horseback arrived with the information that Bittoon was waiting for his opponent at Wimbledon Common, when off went gig, cart, curricle, carriage, buggy, and tumbler, over Putney Bridge, on a visit once again to the shrine of Jerry Abbershaw. At a quarter before three the pilgrims arrived, the ring was formed, and precisely at five minutes before three they set-to. Bittoon was seconded by Lyons, and Maddox by Joe Ward.
“For the first three rounds the Jew had a clear advantage, having three successive times brought down his opponent at the close of the round, but not without some sharp returns. The combatants manœuvred, then laid aside science for a display of unflinching courage, forcing the fighting rapidly, taking and giving heavily; but in this the agility of Maddox and his superior quickness in advancing and retreating brought the odds to seven to four in his favour. From the sixty-eighth to the seventy-third round, Bittoon recovered strength and well supported the contest. In the seventy-fourth round he threw Maddox heavily, who was also sadly beaten both in the face and body. It was now getting dark, and Maddox persevered to make it a ‘draw.’ Maddox’s brother and friends now entered the ring and stopped the battle, stating that no one could see fair. A general engagement with sticks and fists ensued, to clear the ring. A parley ensued, when it was agreed the battle should be postponed to a future day; the men having been engaged one hour and ten minutes, and fought seventy-four rounds, the seventy-fifth being interrupted as above stated.” The reporter adds, “in the fight both men displayed ‘bottom’ unequalled in the annals of pugilism.” At a further conference between the backers of the men, they humanely decided, that two such brave and evenly matched men should not meet again for the same stake, but each have his backer’s stake-money.
George, now, as on former occasions, like Caleb Baldwin and others of his time, returned to his humble and laborious calling. He however, more majorum, attended whenever there was a “good thing” on. Thus, on the 23rd January, 1804, he was present at the celebrated fight of the Game Chicken and Joe Berks, on Putney Common. The great event disposed of, a purse was got up, and Maddox, then called “the Veteran,” offered himself as a candidate. One Seabrook, a dustman, and a bounceable sort of chap, long known as a second rate pugilist, was induced by the offer of four pounds to enter the ring with George. The affair was a farce, Maddox punished Seabrook all over the ring for three rounds, when he fell out of the ropes and declared his arm was broken. “No sooner, however, had he nibbed the gull (Anglicè pocketed the money), than he boastingly swore he was not the least hurt.”[[109]] “Pancratia,” p. 199.
George’s day’s work was not, however, yet over. Bill Richmond, an athletic American black, of whom we shall hear more hereafter, who had served his time to a cabinet maker at York, and was at this time footman to the well-known Lord Camelford, having expressed himself desirous of a “shy” with a professed pugilist, was indulged by the deposit of a small stake. The affair, like that of Seabrook’s, was of three rounds only. In the last round Maddox caught Richmond an electrifying blow under the left eye, which in the words of the reporter, “so completely queered his ogle, that he at once gave in.”
George, though now in his fiftieth year, was always ready to try “a novice.” At a meeting at Wood Green, near Hornsey, on Monday, June 7, 1805, a subscription purse was offered of twenty-five guineas, twenty for the winner, five for the loser. For this Tom Cribb, “the Black Diamond,” offered himself. The battle will be detailed under Cribb. His after-renowned opponent, besides the advantages of youth, was two inches taller than George. Maddox fought like a hero, and gave in with reluctance, after two hours and ten minutes’ combat, with a stalwart and game youngster with stamina fresh and unwasted. Maddox fell gloriously, and Young Cribb, hitherto unknown, by this contest acquired a pugilistic fame that soon developed itself, and ultimately led him to the championship.
On Monday, June 5th, 1806, three boxing matches were decided at Padnal Corner, Epping Forest. The second of these was between George Maddox, “the Veteran,” and Coady,[[110]] an Irish boxer, of great pretence, for forty guineas. Maddox was considered “gone by,” and Coady made the favourite. We copy the report from the Daily Advertiser: “Maddox fought in the old style, that of rallying,[[111]] and in a great measure giving the first powerful hit in each round. Coady always waited for him to begin, and generally hit in return successfully in the rallies. His blows did not, however, seem to tell so much or to be put in so sharply as his adversary’s. After the combat had lasted half an hour there was some confusion, and the ring was broken in, but whether by design or accident could not be discovered. The combatants were, however, taken away until another ring was formed, when they again set-to. The combat lasted another three quarters of an hour, when a detachment of the 10th Light Dragoons appeared, headed by a magistrate, who, being also headborough, entered the ring, and with all the moderation and gentlemanly affability becoming his authority addressed the amateurs, informing them they must disperse in the name of the law, or he should be under the necessity of calling in military aid to enforce his mission. Upon this they all retired about a mile further, when the cavalry disappearing they formed another ring.” The name of this magisterial specimen of the suaviter in modo et fortiter re has not been recorded by the admiring reporter, or we would willingly have perpetuated it. Mr. Coady was now called to appear and face his man; but in the interval his eyes had nearly closed. “He refused to enter the ring,” says the report, “so the battle was declared a drawn one.”[[112]] That there was no further interruption is shown by the fact that there was a third battle, between O’Donnell and Smith. (See O’Donnell in Appendix.)
Maddox once more retired to his vocation as a street dealer in fish, fruit, flowers, and other commodities then generally hawked through the scattered suburbs, now solidified into the enormous mass of the mighty metropolis—in plain prose, he followed his vocation of a costermonger, and was a noted character among the Westminster fraternity. Meantime, Bill Richmond, his old antagonist, had won himself a name and position among the list of boxers, and the blot on his ’scutcheon, from his early and summary defeat by Maddox, so sorely troubled him that he longed to rub it out by another tourney. He challenged the veteran, who accepted the defiance. They met August 9, 1809. John Gully seconded the veteran, and Bill Gibbons, his Westminster “pal,” was his bottle-holder. Yet one more illustration of the soundness of Captain Godfrey’s axiom, not to “trust battle to a waning age,” was given. Maddox in his fifty-fourth year, after fifty-two rounds, reluctantly gave in to his younger, heavier, and stronger adversary.
In all the numerous contests in which Maddox had been engaged, his courage was pre-eminent. As a pugilist, he was conspicuous for determined rallying and quick hitting; and, though well acquainted with the science, he relied more on his true game than strictly following the principles of the art. It is but justice to his memory to state, according to the best information upon the subject, that pugilism was never disgraced by any of his public encounters, nor his character ever stained by making a cross.
A short time previous to his death a benefit was got up for “the veteran” at the One Tun Room, Jermyn Street, which was well attended, and at which the first pugilists exhibited specimens of self-defence; among whom several of his old opponents were not backward in assisting him by their efforts, as Cribb, Bittoon, O’Donnell, Richmond, etc.
The death of this courageous boxer was the consequence of an accident. The pipes (in those days hollowed trunks of elm trees) which conveyed water through the Borough Market were under repair, and the dark street “for in those days we had not got to gas,” left with a yawning chasm. Into one of these, while repairing to market before dawn, poor George was precipitated; he received a compound fracture of the thigh, erysipelas supervened, and our hero, for hero he was though humble, closed his career in St. Thomas’s Hospital. George was buried, by the subscriptions of some of his brother boxers in the churchyard of St. George the Martyr.
