Peter Shawn Taylor, National Post - The Queen wasn’t invited. The Pope declined to come. But if there’s one person no one wants to see at this year’s 400th anniversary of the founding of Quebec City, it’s the man responsible for 249 years of that history. Major-General James Wolfe is persona non grata at the site of his greatest achievement. This comes as no great surprise. The historical reputation of Wolfe has been under devastating attack for the better part of a century. That Quebec City has chosen to ignore him altogether merely completes his waning story arc.

Wolfe was once the British Empire’s most acclaimed military hero. His improbable and decisive victory on Sept. 13, 1759 at the Battle of Quebec led directly to the fall of New France. In death, he became a saviour to the colonies of New England as well as the British homeland ; and muse to countless artists. Yet today, Wolfe’s good name lies in tatters. Historians characterize him as a suicidal war criminal, ignorant of basic military strategy, who achieved his only victory through pure dumb luck.

But this re-crafting of Wolfe’s reputation owes more to politics and popular culture than common sense or logic. A fair weighing of the historical evidence — plus important new scholarship — suggests he has been grotesquely maligned. Wolfe deserves his reputation back. And a place of honour at Quebec City’s 400th celebrations.

Take in any of the activities surrounding Quebec City’s 400th anniversary and you’ll find nary a mention of Wolfe or his victory. At a January kick-off to the celebrations, Quebec City’s old town hosted a massive series of outdoor displays that included three military episodes — the First World War battle of Ypres, Kandahar and the battle for New France. The program, however, curiously claims the New France display records a British attack on Quebec in 1760 —one year after Wolfe’s victory.

At the actual Plains of Abraham battle site, now a national park, a similar historical performance is to be put on in August. Of 45 live-action scenes to be presented by costumed actors, "one or two" will concern Wolfe’s day of glory. And yet there are no plans for an actor to actually play Wolfe in the event. He’s missing at his own party.

A column in the park does recognize the spot were Wolfe died during battle. This is the fifth such marker. Previous ones were habitually defaced by Quebec nationalists — one being destroyed by the FLQ in 1963 — upset over the inscription : "Here Died Wolfe Victorious." The latest bowdlerized version reads simply ’Here Died Wolfe." Quebecers, it seems, can accept the fact he died. Just not that he won.

The disdain shown Wolfe in Quebec is, of course, entirely political. Wolfe was once a potent symbol of the English Conquest. Erasing him from the landscape allows for an alternative, nationalist-friendly and exclusively-French history to take his place.

Which brings up an interesting historical dilemma. Is it better to be forgotten or reviled ? Because while Wolfe has nearly disappeared from Quebec culture, within academic circles he is still the subject of considerable interest. Almost all of it bad.

In 1936, the president of the Canadian Historical Association took an axe to Wolfe’s heroic status by characterizing him as a hopeless fumbler whose success depended "almost entirely upon blind chance." As Canada’s ties to Britain faded, perhaps the country’s need for Brit-ish-born heroes faded with it. The dean of Canadian military historians, Colonel C.P. Stacey, later called Wolfe "ineffective … vacillating and uncertain." In his popular 2000 book Crucible of War, American academic Fred Anderson suggested a morose Wolfe planned the attack on Quebec as an elaborate suicide. He also fingered Wolfe for an official campaign of "rapes, scalpings, thefts and casual murders."

Wolfe’s modern critics thus accuse him of everything from military incompetence to war criminality. These are serious charges. The only recent attempt at a defence is Stephen Brumwell’s Paths of Glory, published last year, which paints Wolfe as a clever tactician and astute military leader. While Brumwell is convincing in his new research, Wolfe’s reputation faces an uphill battle.

A proper re-assessment of Wolfe requires a quick recap of Grade 7 history : When he arrived at Quebec in June, 1759, the city’s fortress on the north shore of the St. Lawrence River held the key to North America— take the city and the rest of New France would fall.

Opposing Wolfe in Quebec was Louis-Joseph, Marquis de Montcalm. Besides having more troops, Montcalm enjoyed a very strong defensive position. High cliffs run along the north shore east and west of the fortifications, and farther east lies Montmorency Falls — all substantial obstacles to an amphibious assault. A landing appeared possible at Beauport, between Montmorency and Quebec City where the shore slopes more gently to the river ; but it was here where Montcalm placed the bulk of his troops. West of the fort, Montcalm had his most experienced soldiers as a flying column to defend against beach-front assaults upriver.

All summer, Wolfe poked at Montcalm’s apparently seamless defences. He tried an attack at Montmorency, with disastrous results. He tried landing west of Quebec and was easily repulsed. He even burned farms on the south shore to provoke Montcalm into action. Nothing worked. As September approached, Wolfe’s health, never very good, collapsed. Time was running out. His naval support was leaving at the end of September.

To bring matters to a head, Wolfe proposed a full-on assault at Beauport. His brigadiers, always critical of Wolfe’s judgment, countered with a plan to land far west of Quebec and march to the fort. Wolfe did agree to take his troops four hours upriver, but then impetuously decided to load them into small boats and float them silently down river at night toward the city. They unloaded at a small cove called Anse au Foulon, scrambled up a narrow cliff path and waited for Montcalm on the Plains of Abraham at dawn. It was a huge risk that shocked his brigadiers. Had the troops been surprised on the cliffs, all would have been lost. Wolfe gambled everything on surprise. The rest, as they say, is history.

Despite his great victory, Wolfe’s critics find fault with everything he did that night. The perils of landing at Foulon were unnecessary, they argue. Once ashore, he failed to seize the high ground. Even his death in action has been used as evidence that Wolfe was inexperienced and foolish.

Brumwell’s careful analysis discounts all these criticisms. Had Wolfe landed above Quebec, he would have faced a much larger army, including the battle-hardened regulars of the flying column. His preference for the low ground makes sense as well. On the Plains of Abraham, Wolfe was sheltered from the cannons of Montcalm’s fort. To do battle, the French general was obliged to meet Wolfe in the open, where the tightly drilled British troops laid waste to his poorly trained army.

Interesting new physical evidence further supports Wolfe. According to research by physicists, oceanographers and historians, had the British attacked higher up the river as the brigadiers wanted, the tides and moonlight that night would have left them dangerously exposed to French sentries. But the conditions were perfect for a surprise landing at Foulon.

Wolfe may have dithered for months trying to crack the nut that was Quebec. (And while his burning of farms seems brutal today, Montcalm and his native allies did far worse.) But when he did act, his every decision was proven right.

"There can’t be many generals in history who’ve taken such criticism for notching up such a decisive victory," says Brumwell in an interview from Amsterdam. "Legions of armchair generals have been telling us how he should have fought his battle. But unlike their strategies, his plan was put to the test. And despite all odds, it was a spectacular success." Brumwell hopes his new biography will mark a reversal in how Wolfe is seen. It’s a start. Canadian history is not so full of heroes that we can afford to ignore the ones we’ve got.

As for the Quebec nationalist view of Wolfe as a symbol of English oppression, that too may require some revision. While he didn’t live to see the surrender of Montcalm’s forces, Wolfe had drafted "Articles of Capitulation" before the battle. Under Wolfe’s terms, French soldiers were to be allowed full military honours. Civilians were welcome to stay in their homes. And French law, language and religion were to be protected. "There shall be no innovations in religious matters or any interruption of Divine Service," he wrote. After his death, these instructions were closely followed.

All this stands in sharp contrast to the fall of Louisbourg the year before, where British commander Jeffery Amherst made the French soldiers prisoners of war and expelled all civilians. And at a time when New England’s colonies were virulently anti-Catholic, Wolfe declared religious matters off limits in Quebec. It’s hardly the sign of a war criminal.

Wolfe’s generous terms of surrender thus deserve to be seen as the precursor to English Canada’s traditional acceptance of a culturally and politically distinct Quebec. It can be argued that the Canadian spirit of accommodation runs straight from Wolfe to Confederation to the present day. It’s the reason French culture still thrives in Quebec ; and why the 400th anniversary celebrations are even possible. In short, Quebecers may have much to thank Wolfe for. Not that anyone would bother.