He was a spoiled child of fortune at this
time, and bitterly and haughtily resented any check to his ambition. The
mixture of his blood gave him that fine sense of the dramatic which so
easily descends to posing. His actual accomplishment was without doubt
great; but his own appreciation of that accomplishment was also
undoubtedly great. He was one of those interesting characters whose
activities are so near the line between great deeds and charlatanism
that it is sometimes difficult to segregate the pose from the
performance.
The end of this row for precedence did not come until after the
so-called battles at the San Gabriel River and on the Mesa on January 8
and 9, 1847. The first of these conflicts is so typical that it is worth
a paragraph of description.
The Californians were posted on the opposite bank of the river. They had
about five hundred men, and two pieces of artillery well placed. The
bank was elevated some forty feet above the stream and possibly four or
six hundred back from the water. The American forces, all told,
consisted of about five hundred men, but most of them were dismounted.
The tactics were exceedingly simple. The Americans merely forded the
river, dragged their guns across, put them in position, and calmly
commenced a vigorous bombardment.
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