But Captain Kirby gave provocation enough to both families when he went among the taverns and clubs, and vowed before Providence over his big fist that they should rue their interference, and he would carry off the lady on a day he named; he named the hour as well, they say, and that was midnight of the month of June.  The Levelliers and Cressetts foamed at the mouth in speaking of him, so enraged they were on account of his age and his passion for a young woman.  As to blood, the Kirbys of Lincolnshire were quite equal to the Cressetts of Warwick.  The Old Buccaneer seems to have had money too.  But you can see what her people had to complain of:  his insolent contempt of them was unexampled.  And their tyranny had roused my lady’s high spirit not a bit less; and she said right out:  ‘When he comes, I am ready and will go with him.’

There was boldness for you on both sides!  All the town was laughing and betting on the event of the night in June:  and the odds were in favour of Kirby; for though, Lord Cressett was quite the popular young English nobleman, being a capital whip and free of his coin, in those days men who had smelt powder were often prized above titles, and the feeling, out of society, was very strong for Kirby, even previous to the fight on the heath.  And the age of the indomitable adventurer must have contributed to his popularity.  He was the hero of every song.

       “’What’s age to me!” cries Kirby;
        “Why, young and fresh let her be,
        But it ’s mighty better reasoned
        For a man to be well seasoned,
        And a man she has in me,” cries Kirby.’

As to his exact age: 

       “‘Write me down sixty-three,” cries Kirby.’

I have always maintained that it was an understatement.  We must remember, it was not Kirby speaking, but the song-writer.  Kirby would not, in my opinion, have numbered years he was proud of below their due quantity.  He was more, if he died at ninety-one; and Chillon Switzer John Kirby, born eleven months after the elopement, was, we know, twenty-three years old when the old man gave up the ghost and bequeathed him little besides a law-suit with the Austrian Government, and the care of Carinthia Jane, the second child of this extraordinary union; both children born in wedlock, as you will hear.  Sixty-three, or sixty-seven, near upon seventy, when most men are reaping and stacking their sins with groans and weak knees, Kirby was a match for his juniors, which they discovered.

Captain John Peter Avason Kirby, son of a Lincolnshire squire of an ancient stock, was proud of his blood, and claimed descent from a chief of the Danish rovers.

       ’"What’s rank to me!” cries Kirby;
        “A titled lass let her be,
          But unless my plans miscarry,
          I’ll show her when we marry;
        As brave a pedigree,” cries Kirby.’

That was the song-writer’s answer to the charge that the countess had stooped to a degrading alliance.