ll
for better manning the Navy, Pitt's patience gave way. He accused the
self-constituted leader of seeking to obstruct the defence of the
country. The charge was in the main correct; for Tierney's opposition to
a pressing measure of national defence was highly unpatriotic.
Nevertheless, Tierney had right on his side when he called Pitt to order
and appealed to the Speaker for protection. Rarely has that personage
been placed in a more difficult position. Pitt was right in his facts;
but etiquette required that he should withdraw or at least attenuate his
charge. Addington politely hinted that the words were unparliamentary,
but suggested that the Minister should give an explanation. Pitt stiffly
refused either to withdraw his words, or to explain their meaning. There
the incident closed. On the next day, Saturday, 26th May, Tierney sent
Pitt a challenge, which was at once accepted.

We find it difficult now to take seriously a duel between a slim man of
near forty who had rarely fired a shot in sport, never in anger, and a
stoutly built irascible Irishman, for whom a good shot meant lynching or
lasting opprobrium. Visions of Bob Acres and Sir Lucius O'Trigger flit
before us. We picture Tierney quoting "fighting Bob Acres" as to the
advantage of a sideways posture; and we wonder whether the seconds, if
only in regard for their own safety, did not omit to insert bullets. The
ludicrous side of the affair soon dawned on contemporaries, witness the
suggestion that in all fairness Pitt's figure ought to be chalked out on
Tierney's, and that no shot taking effect outside ought to count. But,
on the whole, people took the incident seriously. Certainly the
principals did. Pitt made his will beforehand, and requested Addington
as a friend to come and see him, thereby preventing his interposition as
Speaker. He asked Steele to be his second; but, he being away from town,
Dudley Ryder took his place. Leaving Downing Street about noon on
Whitsunday, 27th May, the pair walked along Birdcage Walk, mounted the
steps leading into Queen Street, and entered a chaise engaged for their
excursion. After passing the villages of Chelsea and Putney, and,
topping the rise beyond, they proceeded along the old Portsmouth Road,
which crosses the northern part of Putney Heath. At the top of the steep
hill leading down into Kingston Vale they alighted, made their way past
the gibbet where swung the corpse of a well-known highwayman, Jerry
Abershaw,