Gonzales: The Lexington of Texas

It’s often been observed that the Texas Revolution bears a lot of similarities to the American Revolution, which had been fought sixty years earlier on the same continent. The Texians were well aware of this likeness. They deliberately modeled their constitution on that of the United States and hoped that their own revolution would be as successful as its predecessor.

By the 1830s, the Texian colonists had formed a strong sense of identity and self-governance. Under the Mexican Constitution of 1824, the Texians—along with the citizens of other Mexican states—enjoyed a great deal of autonomy. But in 1835, the Mexican government, led by Santa Anna, repealed this constitution in a move toward centralization of power. Like the American colonists before them, the Texians pushed back against the tyranny and injustice of a distant regime. The Mexican government was quick to respond to the Texians' resistance. Just as British troops were sent to seize the colonists’ arms and ammunition in Concord, so were Mexican forces dispatched to retrieve a cannon from the town of Gonzales. And like the Massachusetts militiamen, the Texian citizen-soldiers anticipated this move, and got there first.

The cannon in question was a Spanish-made bronze piece of six-pound caliber. It had been given to the Gonzales colonists in 1831 by the Mexican government as a defense against hostile Native Americans. In September 1835, the Mexican commander at San Antonio de Bexar, aware of mounting tensions among the colonists, sent a corporal and five soldiers to retrieve the cannon. But the colonists did not surrender their weapon. They took the soldiers prisoner, buried the cannon in a resident's peach orchard, and notified the Mexican commander that they would be keeping their cannon, thank you.

Rightly guessing that another, bigger force would be sent from San Antonio to get the gun back, the colonists sent word to the settlements along the Colorado River to gather at Gonzales. By the time Lieutenant Francisco de Castaneda arrived at Gonzales with a hundred cavalry troops, the cannon had been dug up from the orchard and mounted on the front wheels of a cotton wagon. Two young ladies of Gonzales, Caroline Zumwalt and Eveline DeWitt, quickly put together the first version of one of the most soul-stirring flags ever to fly above the Lone Star State: a white field with the image of a cannon in black, along with the defiant words, "COME AND TAKE IT."

Knowing that the situation was volatile, the Mexican commander at Bexar had ordered Castaneda to do all he could to avoid open conflict. By now, militia units from along the Colorado had reached Gonzales, and more arrived soon after Castaneda reached the west bank of the swollen Guadalupe River.

The Texians soon opened fire on the Mexican troops. Castaneda withdrew to a more defensible position and requested parley. The remarkable exchange between Castaneda and the Texian commander John Henry Moore was recorded by a Texian participant.

Castaneda…demanded of Colonel Moore the cause of our troops attacking him, to which Colonel Moore replied that he had made a demand of our cannon, and threatened, in case of refusal to give it up, that he would take it by force; that this cannon had been presented to the citizens of Gonzales for the defense of themselves and of the Constitution and laws of the country; that he, Castaneda, was acting under the orders of the tyrant Santa Anna, who had broken down and trampled underfoot all the state and federal constitutions in Mexico, excepting that of Texas, and that we were determined to fight for our rights under the Constitution of 1824 until the last gasp.

Castaneda replied that he himself was a republican…that he did not wish to fight the Anglo-Americans of Texas, that his orders from his commander were simply to demand the cannon, and if refused, to take up a position near Gonzales until further orders.

Colonel Moore then demanded him to surrender with the troops under his command, or join our side, stating to him that he would be received with open arms, and that he might retain his rank, pay, and emoluments; or that he must fight instantly.

Castaneda answered that he would obey orders. (H.W. Brands, Lone Star Nation)

By now the flag had been raised beside the cannon, inviting the enemy to “COME AND TAKE IT.” Upon Moore’s return to the Texian lines, the cannon fired a charge of metal scraps in the direction of the Mexican forces, and Texians armed with Kentucky rifles began their advance. Castaneda soon quit the field and returned to San Antonio.

Casualties were light on both sides, but as at Lexington, the die had been cast. The Texians were going to war.

My latest Harlequin Heartwarming book, Hill Country Hero, combines a modern-day love story with an old mystery from the time of the Texas Revolution. Paralegal and historical author Annalisa Cavazos is finally cutting ties with her lifelong crush, Javi Mendoza—being friends is just too painful. But when Javi finds an artifact at his classic car shop that leads to a discovery for Annalisa’s book, they’re thrown together on a search that just might rewrite Limestone Springs, Texas, history—and their feelings for each other.