Napoleon did not leave Elba till February 26, nor did he land at Cannes till March 1, when the news of his landing spread like wildfire. The ‘Times’ of March 11 says: ‘Early yesterday morning we received by express from Dover, the important, but lamentable intelligence, of a civil war having been again kindled in France, by that wretch Buonaparte, whose life was so impoliticly spared by the Allied Sovereigns. It now appears that the hypocritical villain, who, at the time of his cowardly abdication, affected an aversion to the shedding of blood in a civil warfare, has been employed during the whole time of his residence at Elba, in carrying on secret and treasonable intrigues with the tools of his former crimes in France,’ &c. The caricaturists soon fastened on this event, which fell upon Europe like a thunderbolt, and some time in March was published ‘The Devil to pay, or Boney’s return from Hell Bay/Elba, 25 Feb. 1815,’ by I. L. Marks. Napoleon is crossing the sea in a boat filled with soldiers, rowed by the Devil, and steered by Death. He sees the dove of peace, and immediately kills it with his pistol, saying, ‘Away from my sight, Peace, Thou art hateful to me.’ The Devil opines, ‘We shall wade through seas of Blood after this;’ and Death, waving a tricoloured flag on his dart, says, ‘A more expert hand at my Trade does not exist.’ The populace are running to the shore to meet their returned Emperor with effusion, whilst poor gouty Louis is being carried away on pickaback, lamenting, ‘Oh Heartwell,[51] I sigh for thy peacefull Shades.’ I. L. Marks drew ‘1 Mar. 1815. The European Pantomime. Princeaple Caracters Harliquin Mr. Boney. Pantaloon Louis XVIII. Columbine Maria Louiza. Clowns &c. by Congress.’ Here Napoleon is making a terrific leap from Elba to the French coast, where the poor pantaloon, all gouty, shakes his crutch in impotent rage. The Empress and her little son welcome him, and Congress is represented by the different sovereigns of Europe, who are in a tent; Russia pointing to a globe in the midst of them. Here is a somewhat homely, but contemporary, account of how the news of Napoleon’s escape was received in London:-- Twang went the horn! ‘confound that noise!’ I cried, in pet--‘these plaguy boys Are at some tricks to sell their papers, Their _blasts_ have given me the _vapours_!’ But all my senses soon were stranded, At hearing ‘Buonaparte’s landed!’ ‘Landed in France!’ so ran the strain, And ‘with eleven hundred men.’ ‘Ho, post!’ ‘Who calls?’ ‘This way.’ ‘I’m coming!’ ‘The public surely he is humming,’ Said I. ‘A paper--what’s the price?’ ‘A shilling.’ ‘Why, that’s payment twice!’ ‘As _cheap as dirt_, your honour, quite; They’ve sold for half a crown to-night.’ ‘But is the News authentic, friend?’ ‘_Ofishul_, sir, you may depend.-- The _Currier_, third edition.’ ‘So! Well, take your money, boy, and go.’ Now for the news--by what strange blunder Has he escaped his bounds, I wonder.