Perhaps one of the most terrific passages of unconscious humour is related by Forsyth (vol. iii. p. 288), where Lowe is made to say to Major Gorrequer and Mr. Henry, as they walked together before the door of Plantation House discussing the character of Napoleon, “Well, gentlemen, he was England’s greatest enemy and mine too; but I forgive him everything.  On the death of a man like him we should only feel deep concern and regret.”  Forsyth thinks this splendid magnanimity on the part of his hero.

It is not recorded what the gallant Major thought of it, but it may be taken for granted that if Mr. Henry and Gorrequer had any sense of humour at all, Lowe’s comment must have sounded very comical, knowing what they did of the relations between the dead monarch and his custodian, though it must be said that Henry seems to have been the only person who could work up a sympathetic word for Sir Hudson.  Forsyth, in vol. iii. p. 307, says:  “No one can study the character of Napoleon without being struck by one prevailing feature, his intense selfishness.”  This is a remarkable statement for any man who professes to write accurate history to make, and proves conclusively that Forsyth had not “studied” Napoleon’s “character,” or he would have found, not only his closest friends, but some of his bitterest enemies doing him the justice of stating the very opposite of what this writer says of him.

Mr. Henry, who took part in the dissection of the corpse, says that Napoleon’s face had a remarkably placid expression, and indicated mildness and sweetness of disposition, and those who gazed on the features as they lay in the still repose of death could not help exclaiming, “How beautiful!” After this very fine description from Sir Hudson’s friend, Forsyth adds a footnote:  “It may interest phrenologists to know that the organs of combativeness, causativeness, and philoprogenitiveness were strongly developed in the cranium”!  In order to prove the charge of selfishness he brings in the old familiar story of the divorce:  “A memorable example of this (i.e., selfishness) occurs in his treatment of the nobleminded Josephine.”

This outburst is obviously intended for effect, but Forsyth does not score a success in bringing the amiable Empress to his aid; for, whatever virtue she may have possessed, authentic history reveals her as the antithesis of “nobleminded.”  Those who knew the lady intimately speak with marked generosity of her graces, but they also record a shameless habit of faithlessness to her husband at a time when he was pouring out volumes of love to her from Italy.  And she seems to have let herself go without restraint during his stay in Egypt.  The wayward, weak Josephine had many lovers, who were not too carefully selected.