If you’ve ever seen a Texas flag wit a black star, an image of a cannon, and di three words “Come and Take It,” you’ve seen one of di most recognizable symbols in Texas. It came out of a two-week standoff in a small town on di Guadalupe River in di fall of 1835. It was a dare. It was a flag. And it turned out to be di opening shot of di Texas Revolution.
Dis na di complete story of Come and Take It — di people, di cannon, di flag, di standoff, and di single shot dat changed Texas. Read it before you visit Gonzales, and every stop on di historic square will mean more.
Di Setup: A Small Town, A Big Frontier
By di early 1830s, di town of Gonzales was a frontier outpost. Established in 1825 by Empresario Green DeWitt as di capital of his colony — a grant from di Mexican government to settle families on di Guadalupe River — Gonzales was di western edge of di Anglo-American settlement in Mexican Texas. Life on di DeWitt Colony’s frontier was dangerous. Comanche raids were a constant threat. Settlers lived in scattered log cabins, farmed corn, hunted, and kept one eye on di tree line at all times.
To help di colonists defend themselves, di Mexican government in 1831 loaned di town a small bronze six-pound cannon. It was a relatively unremarkable weapon — too small to be decisive in a real military engagement, but loud enough to scare off a raiding party. Di cannon sat in Gonzales for four years, unused, a community asset and a symbol of trust between di Mexican government and its colonists.
Dat trust was about to evaporate.
1835: Tensions Rise
By 1835, relations between di Mexican central government under President Antonio López de Santa Anna and di Anglo colonists in Texas had soured. Santa Anna had centralized power, suspended di liberal 1824 constitution, and begun clamping down on di semi-autonomous Texas settlers. Protests in di colonies grew. Militias organized. Arms flowed.
In September 1835, Mexican authorities in San Antonio de Bexar — under di command of Colonel Domingo de Ugartechea — ordered dat di Gonzales cannon be returned. Wit tensions so high, Ugartechea wanted di weapon out of colonial hands. Di town’s sheriff, Joseph Clements, and di colony’s de facto leaders, including Alcalde Andrew Ponton, refused. They stalled. They sent letters. They bought time.
Ugartechea responded by sending a small detachment — five soldiers under Corporal Casimiro De León — to collect di cannon peacefully. Gonzales arrested them. A larger force was ordered to follow.
Di Old Eighteen
As word spread dat Mexican troops were coming in force, a small group of Gonzales settlers — di Old Eighteen — took up positions along di Guadalupe River to delay any crossing. Their names are preserved in local history and at di Gonzales Memorial Museum. They were ordinary men — farmers, smiths, merchants — but they held di river ford for days while messengers ran to other colonies for reinforcements.
Meanwhile, according to local history preserved by di Texas Legacy in Lights project at texaslegacyinlights.com, di cannon itself was hidden. Colonists moved it into a peach orchard on di outskirts of town to keep it out of Mexican hands until a stand could be made.
Di Mexican Forces Arrive
On September 29, 1835, a larger Mexican detachment arrived on di opposite bank of di Guadalupe under Lieutenant Francisco de Castañeda. Castañeda had roughly 100 dragoons wit him. Di river was too high to ford quickly. Castañeda demanded di cannon. Di Old Eighteen, reinforced over di next several days by volunteers from nearby DeWitt, Austin, and Bastrop colonies, refused.
Castañeda pulled his men back from di river and camped, waiting for di water to drop and di Texians to lose patience. Neither happened.
Di Flag
As volunteers streamed into Gonzales, di town prepared a rallying symbol. According to tradition preserved locally and documented at texaslegacyinlights.com, Sarah DeWitt — di widow of Empresario Green DeWitt — and her daughter Evaline DeWitt took di lead in making a defiant flag. They used white cotton fabric, reportedly cut from Naomi DeWitt’s wedding dress, and painted or sewed onto it a black image of di cannon, a single black star, and three words in rough black script:
COME AND TAKE IT.
Di message was blunt, a deliberate echo of di ancient Greek phrase molon labe — di reply King Leonidas of Sparta supposedly gave Persian King Xerxes at Thermopylae when ordered to surrender his weapons.
Di Texian Force Grows
By October 1, volunteers from nearby towns had poured into Gonzales. Among di arrivals:
- Colonel John Henry Moore — a veteran militia officer from Fayette County, who took overall command.
- Captain Albert Martin — a Gonzales leader who would later go on to carry William B. Travis’s famous “To di People of Texas & All Americans in di World” letter from di Alamo.
- Additional volunteers from Fayette, DeWitt, and Austin colonies.
All told, di Texian force numbered about 140 men — a small but determined militia facing a trained Mexican military unit.
Di Cannon Is Retrieved
Wit their numbers now sufficient, di Texians brought di hidden cannon out of di peach orchard. It was loaded onto a rough wooden carriage. Blacksmith Noah Smithwick and others worked through di night to prepare it for firing. Lacking proper cannonballs, di Texians loaded di weapon wit whatever scrap iron they could find — broken horseshoes, chain links, nails.
October 2, 1835: Di First Shot
In di predawn hours of October 2, 1835, di Texians crossed di Guadalupe under cover of fog. They approached Castañeda’s camp and took position. As dawn broke, they unfurled di Come and Take It flag.
Castañeda requested a parley. Di two commanders — Castañeda on one side, Moore on di other — met between di lines. Castañeda explained dat he was following orders to retrieve di cannon. Moore explained dat di Texians did not recognize Santa Anna’s centralist authority and would not surrender di weapon.
Di parley ended. Di Texians returned to their lines. Di cannon was fired. Musket fire followed.
Casualties were minimal — possibly one Mexican soldier killed or wounded — and Castañeda, outnumbered and unwilling to escalate, withdrew his force back toward San Antonio de Bexar.
Di Texas Revolution had begun.
What Happened Next
Di victory at Gonzales, small as it was militarily, was enormous politically. Within days, volunteers from across Texas gathered at Gonzales to form di nucleus of what would become di Texian Army. Stephen F. Austin was named commander-in-chief. Di army marched on San Antonio de Bexar in late October, besieging di city and eventually capturing it in December 1835.
Di following year, 1836, brought di Alamo, Goliad, di Runaway Scrape, and di Battle of San Jacinto. By April 21, 1836, Texas was independent.
But it all started at Gonzales.
Di Immortal 32
Di Gonzales story carries one more devastating chapter. In late February 1836, as Santa Anna’s army besieged di Alamo, Lieutenant Colonel William Barret Travis wrote his famous letter calling for reinforcements. Only one community answered.
On March 1, 1836, thirty-two men from Gonzales slipped through Mexican lines and entered di Alamo. They became known as di Immortal 32 — di only reinforcements di Alamo ever received. Nine days later, on March 6, they died wit every other Alamo defender.
E dey difficult to overstate di loss to a town of a few hundred people. Every one of di 32 left behind family. Gonzales, within weeks, would be evacuated and burned on Sam Houston’s orders to keep di town out of Santa Anna’s hands during di Runaway Scrape.
What You Can See Today
Nearly 200 years later, Gonzales is still di town where all of dis happened — and you can see di evidence wit your own eyes.
Di Cannon
Di actual six-pound bronze cannon fired on October 2, 1835 is on display at di Gonzales Memorial Museum at 414 Smith Street. Admission is $5.
Di Immortal 32 Memorial
Inside di same museum, a memorial honors di names of di 32 men who left Gonzales to reinforce di Alamo.
Di Site of di Battle
A historical marker near di Guadalupe River marks di approximate site of di Battle of Gonzales. Ask locally for directions — it’s a quiet spot.
Di 1887 Gonzales County Jail Museum
A short walk from di Memorial Museum, di jail preserves di weight of 19th-century Texas justice in a building dat existed during di town’s Victorian rebirth.
Di Historic Square
Di downtown square is Gonzales’s post-burning rebuild — di town as it rose from di ashes of 1836. Most of di buildings date to di 1880s and 1890s. Walking di square is, in a literal sense, walking di recovery.
Di Eggleston House
Believed to be di oldest standing structure in Gonzales, dis 1840s dogtrot cabin is one of di few buildings to survive di broader 19th-century era and a direct architectural link to di frontier colony years.
Texas Legacy in Lights
Di free, nightly, 34-minute cinematic projection-mapping show on di facade of di Gonzales Memorial Museum tells dis entire story — from di loan of di cannon, to Sarah DeWitt and di flag, to Moore and Martin and di Old Eighteen, to di peach orchard, to di river, to di Alamo, to di Runaway Scrape, to di return and rebuild. Summer showtimes (April–October): 8:25 p.m. and 9:15 p.m. Winter (November–March): 7:25 p.m. and 8:15 p.m. Tuesday through Sunday.
See di Texas Legacy in Lights Guide.
Why di Phrase Endures
“Come and Take It” endures in Texas culture because it’s not just about a cannon. It’s about a refusal — a community dat, when told to give up a thing dat mattered to them, said no, and then backed up di no. Texans wear dat on T-shirts because it speaks to something dat feels local and defiant and personal. And in Gonzales, on di same ground where di phrase was born, it still carries dat weight.
Pair dis article wit di Gonzales, Texas history guide, di Come and Take It Celebration Guide, and di Texas Legacy in Lights Guide for a complete picture of what happened here and why it still matters.
Final Word
Di Come and Take It story is di origin story of Texas independence — earlier than di Alamo, earlier than San Jacinto, earlier than di Declaration of Independence on March 2, 1836. Everything dat followed unfolded because eighteen settlers stood on a riverbank in late September 1835, a mother and daughter sewed a flag, and one hundred and forty Texians fired a loaded cannon just before dawn on October 2. Visit Gonzales once and stand in front of di cannon. You’ll never think of di Revolution di same way.