There were many older generals who thought they ought to have been appointed to the important command in place of Wolfe, and when the elated Wolfe made some wild boasts in their presence, they were quick to carry them to the king and to declare that James Wolfe was a mad fool, and not fit to command. But King George III liked Wolfe none the less for his enthusiasm, and declared that if “General Wolfe be mad, he hoped he would bite some of his generals.”
But even Wolfe’s enthusiasm could not break down the strong fortification at Quebec. The city was located on a high, rocky cliff in itself almost inaccessible, and the natural strength of the position was increased by the strong defense maintained by the French soldiers and the Indians. Wolfe spent the entire summer trying to find a way to take Quebec, and probably would not have succeeded but for a combination of circumstances which left one part of the cliff unprotected.
With the aid of a telescope, General Wolfe had discovered a hidden pathway up the side of the cliff behind the city at a point which was lightly guarded. Then came a deserter from the French army who informed him that the French were expecting some provision boats that night.
Without hesitation, General Wolfe ordered thirty-six hundred of his soldiers to prepare for the assault. Under cover of night, flying a French flag and with the aid of those of his generals who spoke French, Wolfe and his soldiers managed to sail past the sentry and enter the harbor in the guise of the French provision boats. In absolute silence they sailed up the river and landed at a spot since called “Wolfe’s Cove.” The ascent up the steep hill side was difficult but soon accomplished, and the few guards killed or taken prisoners. All the British soldiers successfully gained the heights and the next morning General Wolfe lined them up for battle on a field called the “Field of Abraham” after the name of its owner.
The French commander, Montcalm, surprised at the presence of the enemy on his own shore, went to meet them hurriedly and without proper support. A fierce battle ensued in which the English were victorious, and the French fled. General Wolfe was wounded three times in this battle, the last time fatally. Even then he called out to those nearest him, “Support me; let not my brave fellows see me fall. The day is ours; keep it.”
In our picture we see General Wolfe half supported on the ground, with his friends about him. At the left is the messenger who, history tells us, bore the news, “They run; see how they run!” The dying general heard the words and asked, “Who run?” Upon hearing the answer, “The enemy,” he exclaimed, “Now God be praised. I will die in peace.”
This victory not only gave Canada to England, but established the permanent supremacy of the English-speaking race in North America. Is it any wonder, then, that Benjamin West, a good American colonist, should be interested in this battle and wish to paint a picture of it?
He started it with great enthusiasm, and soon had the figures sketched in, ready to paint. West was then living in London, and Archbishop Drummond, happening in his studio at this time, was greatly shocked because West had dressed his men in costumes such as they actually wore. Strange as it seems to us now, it was the custom then to use classic models for everything, and to represent all figures as wearing Greek costumes, no matter in what period they lived. If we remember Benjamin West for no other reason, we shall remember him because he was the first in England and America to change this custom. He believed we should paint people just as they are. The archbishop tried to dissuade him from this, and failing, he asked Sir Joshua Reynolds to talk to West.
Finally King George III heard of the artist’s intention and sent for him. West listened to the king with great respect, and then replied: “May it please your Majesty, the subject I have to represent is a great battle fought and won, and the same truth which gives law to the historian should rule the painter. If instead of the facts of action I introduce fictions, how shall I be understood by posterity? The classic dress is certainly picturesque, but by using it I shall lose in sentiment what I gain in external grace. I want to mark the time, the place, and the people; to do this I must abide by the truth.”
The king could not fail to be convinced by so sensible an answer, yet he would not buy the picture. When Sir Joshua Reynolds came to look at the finished picture he praised it unreservedly, and not only told the artist it would be popular but predicted that it would lead to a revolution in art. His prediction was soon fulfilled.