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"The world will never have any peace," said he, "until that brute has ceased sucking the blood of other nations, and been sunk at the bottom of the sea. Old as I am, I would go for a drummer, so that I might lend a helping hand in subduing the nation that has violated the most sacred laws of humanity."
All the scourges that visit the earth were put down by him to the credit of that traitress of a neighbor; earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, inundations, cholera, the plague; even down to his own colds in the head, all were attributed by him to the baneful influence of the breeze that had passed over England.
He did not hesitate to declare that the air of the Champs-Elysées in Paris was polluted by the presence of the English colony in its midst. Every time he passed through it, he fumigated himself as soon as he reached home.
Poor Marquis de Boissy, what would you have said, if you had lived long enough to receive invitations to five o'clocquer?
The old Anglophobist was sincere in his epic outbursts, and at the same time very amusing, for he was as full of wit as he was of Anglophobia.
He is dead, leaving no successor; France is at present without a declared Anglophobist.