A most amusing caricature by Rowlandson (December 14, 1813) is ‘Political Chemists and German Retorts, or dissolving the Rhenish confederacy.’ John Bull naturally finds coal for a ‘German Stove,’ the fire in which a Dutchman blows with a pair of bellows. All the sovereigns of Europe stand round, enjoying Boney’s discomfiture. The Emperor, who is vainly appealing to them, ‘Oh spare me till the King of Rome is ripe for mischief yet to come,’ is being put into a glass receiver, and is about to be covered up. Bernadotte is pouring in a bottle of sulphate of Swedish iron, and the Pope is hurrying forward with two bottles, one of fulminating powder, the other a vial of wrath. The products being distilled from him are Intrigue and Villainy, Ambition and Folly, Gasconade and Lies, Fire and Sword, Arrogance and Atrocity, Murder and Plunder. A Spaniard is pounding at a mortar inscribed ‘Saragossa.’ In ‘Town Talk’ (December 1, 1813) is published ‘Gasconading--alias the Runaway Emperor Humbugging the Senate. Some are Short and some are Tall, But it’s very well known that he hums them all, And then sings fal de ral tit.’ Napoleon crowned, and _en grande tenue_, stands before the throne, pointing to some trophies borne by soldiers, and thus addresses the Senate: ‘Senators! the glorious success of our Arms has forced me to give way to the impulse of quitting the field of honour, that I might have the satisfaction of presenting to my faithful Senate the glorious trophies of our Victories. Senators! your restless, envious enemies shall be humbled to the dust; your Emperor wills it so; this Arrogant Confederacy shall be punished for their temerity, and our brave Soldiers shall repose in peace. Senators! for this purpose I shall require the small sum of 250,000,000, a sum the flourishing state of our finance will easily produce, and, to replace the vacancy made in my Army, 500,000 (men) from the conscription of 4 years to come will be all that I demand. Frenchmen, the Will of your Emperor, and the glory of the great Nation, requires it.’ The Devil, peeping round from behind the throne, applauds: ‘That’s right my Boy. Humbug them out of another conscription to send me, before you come yourself.’ One Senator, as spokesman, thus addresses Napoleon: ‘Great Emperor of the Great Nation, the Senate devotes the lives and property of the People to your service.’ But this does not appear to be the universal consensus of opinion; for one grumbles, ‘C’est dire un peu trop, cela!’ Another asks: ‘What has he done with the last Grand Army, that he wants so many again?’ and one replies: ‘They are gone to see how their friends in Russia do.’ Another doubts the authenticity of the trophies: ‘Why! these trophies belong to our Allies, c’est drôle cela!’