Texas Revolution: Birth of the Lone Star State

It is one of the most consequential conflicts in North American history. In the fall of 1835, an internal rebellion broke out in the Mexican state of Coahuila y Tejas. On one side stood a disparate group of settlers, disaffected Mexicans, and a handful of Native Americans. On the other: the awesome centralized military might of dictator Santa Anna.

For anyone watching from afar, it must have looked like the rebellion was doomed to fail — that Santa Anna would mercilessly crush the Texans, just as he had crushed the rebellion in Zacatecas. Over the next eight months, the rebellion transformed into a full-blown war of independence. Amid the sieges, massacres, and atrocities, a foundation story was forged — one which remains central to Texan identity to this very day.

The Wild Frontier: Moses Austin, Spanish Desperation, and the Seeds of Settlement

Had anyone ever asked, it is a good bet Moses Austin would have said 1819 was by far the worst year of his life. A titan of the lead industry, Moses had moved west in the 1810s, helping establish the Bank of St. Louis.

But then the Panic of 1819 had hit, sinking financial institutions everywhere, and Moses’s bank — and thus his capital — had gone down with them. Hence his decision to head south. To cross the border into what was then the Viceroyalty of New Spain, and seek permission to establish a colony in Spanish Texas.

Lucky for Moses, the Spaniards by that point were desperate. Back in 1810, Napoleonic shenanigans in Europe had kickstarted a popular revolt in New Spain, one which would eventually snowball into the Mexican War of Independence. As the fighting raged and colonial authorities lost their grip, Spain’s representatives became painfully aware they could no longer defend their northeastern border.

And that was a massive problem, because the northeast border just happened to butt up against the United States — a young nation filled with adventurers itching to mount a private invasion. So the ruling council decided to preempt them by encouraging immigration, allowing settlers to build colonies near the border in return for defending it. It was this offer that Moses Austin traveled to San Antonio to take advantage of, armed with a plan to recuperate his bank losses by bringing in 300 settler families.

Unfortunately for all involved, neither Spain nor Moses would ever see the benefits. Spain, because they were about to lose the war, leaving Moses Austin’s colony guarding the frontier of a brand-new country named Mexico. And Moses, because he would die of pneumonia before even getting started.

But his settlement grant would not die with him. Instead, it would pass to his son: Stephen F. Austin.

And that would have all sorts of crazy ramifications down the line. With the conclusion of the War of Independence, Mexico found itself faced with even worse problems than its Spanish overlords had faced. Something like 8 percent of its population had perished.

The economy was broken. Up on the northeast frontier, only three significant garrisons — Nacogdoches, Goliad, and San Antonio — controlled a swathe of land larger than most European countries. The solution was more immigration.

In 1823, the First Mexican Empire relegalized colonization, granting Stephen F. Austin the right to bring in yet more settlers. While the Empire would collapse within months, the terms of Austin’s grant would hold: any settlers he brought in would get free land, citizenship, and a seven-year exemption from certain taxes.

By the end of the year, some 500 settlers had crossed the border — a mixture of Americans, Europeans, and slaves. Since a lot of colonists were from the Deep South, they brought their Peculiar Institution with them — something that would cause major clashes later. For now, though, the government in Mexico City was simply happy to have men on the border.

They were even happier when Mexico transitioned to a federal republic, and the newly created state of Coahuila y Tejas signed the Colonization Act. Coming into force in 1825, the law increased benefits for settlers to such a degree that it set off a Texas Land Rush. Hundreds of people poured across the frontier, desperate to grab a plot of that sweet, fertile soil.

But while this may have been a relief for the government, it also planted the seeds of their nation’s dismemberment. So eager was Coahuila y Tejas to get more settlers in that state representatives did not really bother checking just how loyal to Mexico these newbies felt. And while many arrived with no greater dream than to work hard, make some cash, and raise their families, others came with far more radical plans — plans to break Texas away from Mexico as soon as possible.

The Age of Instability: Terán’s Warning and the Road to Rebellion

As the decade slipped past, once-empty Texas began to grow increasingly multicultural. There were white Texians — colonists from the USA and Europe. Tejanos — Mexican-born settlers who usually sided with the Texians on local issues.

On top of that, there was a notable population of enslaved peoples, and a smaller one of free Black folk. But perhaps the biggest demographic was Native Americans. Numbering some 20,000, they dwarfed even the growing Texian population.

Yet it would be the Anglo settlers who really alarmed the government. In 1827, Manuel de Mier y Terán was sent north to check on the settler program. The year before, a small Texian gang had risen up in the unsuccessful Fredonian Rebellion, and Mexico City wanted to find out if something similar could happen again.

Terán’s conclusion: it absolutely could. Out on the frontier, Terán encountered plenty of Texians whose loyalty to Mexico ran the gamut from shaky to utterly nonexistent. Worse, these Anglo settlers now outnumbered Tejanos east of San Antonio, in many places by a ratio of five to one.

Terán concluded the Texians had been foolishly invited in, and now Mexico was at their mercy. Back in Mexico City, Terán’s report landed like a grenade. Immediately, the government tried to make settling less attractive by outlawing slavery.

When that did not work, they suspended the Colonization Act, just as the seven-year grace period on taxes and duties expired. Sadly for Mexico City, these changes came just as the nation was on the cusp of exploding. Mexican politics in this era were utterly chaotic.

In 1828, an election had been annulled and the presidency handed to the loser, only for that loser to get overthrown by his vice president. Come 1830, that VP — Anastasio Bustamante — was in charge, and trying to break down the states’ rights-focused Federalist system and replace it with a centralized dictatorship. But Bustamante had not counted on Antonio López de Santa Anna.

The caudillo of Veracruz, Santa Anna responded to Bustamante’s power grab by launching a pro-Federalist uprising, one joined by other states. At first, Texans tried to remain uninvolved, instead focusing their protests on local issues. But then came the Battle of Velasco and everything went out the window.

In 1832, tensions got so high around import duties in Anahuac that some Texians tried to ship in a cannon to attack the customs house. The government fort at Velasco tried to stop them, and the resulting argument quickly devolved into bloodshed. Seven Texas militia and five Mexican soldiers were killed.

With 12 dead, the Texan force at Anahuac signed the Turtle Bayou Resolutions, retroactively claiming the battle as part of the Federalist uprising. And that is how Texas’s fate came to be so inextricably tied to that of Santa Anna. At first, the settlers seemed to have picked well.

Months later, the caudillo marched triumphantly into Mexico City and installed arch-federalist Valentín Gómez Farías as acting president. But while the Federalists might have won, they were no longer as pro-states’ rights as Texas wanted them to be. For backing Santa Anna, the Texans demanded reinstatement of the Colonization Act, three more years of exemption from duties, and the separation of Coahuila and Texas into separate states.

They even sent Stephen Austin to Mexico City to plead their case. But while Farías and Santa Anna would happily reopen the frontier to immigration, the rest they balked at. By the end of 1833, Austin was so frustrated that he angrily wrote home, suggesting Texas should just ditch Coahuila and strike out on its own.

Authorities intercepted his letter, and Austin was thrown in jail for sedition. He would spend the next year and a half languishing in Mexico City.

Santa Anna’s Seven Laws and the Spark at Gonzales

The key to understanding Santa Anna’s philosophy is to understand that he had no philosophy — no overriding set of beliefs, except for whatever made Santa Anna more powerful. Hence his decision in 1835 to overthrow Farías and make himself president. Hence his decision to drop Federalism — which he saw as losing steam — and cozy up to the Centralists.

Hence, too, his Seven Laws. A giant middle finger in the face of his former supporters, the Seven Laws were more like the Seven Unmitigated Disasters. States were stripped of their rights, their legislatures abolished and replaced with appointed governors.

Lawmaking powers were returned to Mexico City. Suddenly, the entire nation found itself living in a Centralist nightmare beyond anything even Bustamante could have dreamed of. So Mexico did what Mexico did best: it went into rebellion.

Before the Seven Laws were even published, Zacatecas had exploded. In Coahuila, officials refused to obey the central government. But the biggest backlash of all would be in Texas.

No sooner had Santa Anna seized power than soldiers were marching into Anahuac to take over the customs house — the same customs house at the center of the 1832 conflagration. By June, rumors were flying that San Antonio was next, that General Martín Perfecto de Cós was on his way to disband the legislature. So William B.

Travis decided Texas would just have to strike first. A young American lawyer, Travis had arrived in Texas in 1831, ready to resist Mexico’s government. He gathered a militia, marched over to the customs house, and forced the soldiers to surrender.

It was a key moment in the preamble to the Revolution. What it was not, however, was the spark Travis wanted it to be. Rather than shower him in plaudits, the Texans were more like: what the hell, Travis?

The colonists urgently messaged General Cos, highlighting their loyalty to Mexico and apologizing for the raid. For a couple of months, things quietened down. But this was just the calm before the storm.

By September, Stephen Austin had been released from jail, certain there was no future in Santa Anna’s dictatorship. Backed by other Texans, he called for a state Consultation that October, to decide what to do next. But before a date could be set, General Cos decided to just go ahead and occupy the place.

On September 20, he landed 500 troops at Copano Bay, beginning a fast march towards San Antonio. It would not be Cos who sparked the war, however. Instead, that dubious honor would fall to state governor Domingo de Ugartechea.

With Cos en route, Ugartechea realized this might be an excellent time to disarm as many Texans as possible. On September 27, he commanded Lieutenant Francisco de Castañeda to take 100 men to the settlement of Gonzales — on the Guadalupe River — and demand back a cannon the locals had borrowed. Castañeda did as ordered, but when he reached the river, he found 18 Texas militia blocking his path.

Unable to cross, Castañeda made camp. Meanwhile, the Texans sent out a call for reinforcements. Before long, there were 140 settlers ready to go.

On the morning of October 2, the Texans charged into his camp, waving a homemade banner with a picture of the Gonzales cannon and the famous words: “Come and Take It!” After one Mexican was killed, Castañeda asked for parley. In the ensuing conversation, he revealed he was an anti-Santa Anna Federalist who was only there because his honor required him to follow orders.

So surprised were the Texans that they asked him to join them; Castañeda politely refused, then led his men in an orderly retreat. While it may have been over in mere minutes, everyone knew Gonzales had changed everything. Both sides were now ready to fight.

Blood had already been spilled. War had arrived in Texas.

The Siege of San Antonio and the Fall of Cos

In the aftermath of Gonzales, history slammed its foot on the gas pedal. Events that might have otherwise played out over years flew by in days. There was the seizure of Goliad by militia.

The creation of a Texas Army under Stephen Austin, and his march to San Antonio. The siege that began around the city on October 20. For the Texas forces, these were the heady days — the era when everything seemed to be clicking, and the victories came easy.

Despite everything, the official goal was not yet independence. Rather, the Texans were fighting for a return to Mexico’s old, Federalist structure. It is debatable how much this was true, versus how much it was just something the rebels said for convenience.

Certainly, there were some heated arguments behind the scenes. Still, at this point, it was possible to imagine a settlement that saw Texas stay in Mexico, even as the battles taking place around besieged San Antonio began to get bloodier. On October 28, a Texan force led by Jim Bowie was attacked at Concepcion by troops under Domingo de Ugartechea.

In the resulting firefight, the Texans’ highly accurate rifles managed to cut down 14 Mexicans and wound 39 in just 30 minutes. By contrast, the Texans suffered one killed and one wounded. Almost exactly a month later, the Grass Fight saw Bowie attack a column of pack animals approaching San Antonio, on the mistaken belief that they were carrying pay for the besieged soldiers.

After anywhere between 17 and 50 Mexican casualties, Jim Bowie opened the sacks the animals were carrying — only to discover not silver for San Antonio’s soldiers, but grass for its horses. These battlefield victories convinced many Texans this was the time to strike, that they should take San Antonio while the momentum was with them. But Stephen Austin held out, worried that house-to-house fighting would be just too costly.

Finally, the decision was taken out of his hands. In mid-November, the Consultation Austin had called before the Battle of Gonzales was finally held. A provisional government was established.

And while it did not declare independence, it did raise an army and place politician and former soldier Sam Houston at its head. It also ordered Stephen Austin on a diplomatic mission to the United States. With Austin no longer leading the siege, perhaps the one person capable of keeping the army from doing anything rash was gone.

Although Edward Burleson replaced him, the reality of Texas’s volunteer army was that it was less an army and more a bunch of guys doing whatever they felt like, whenever they felt like it. So when Benjamin R. Milam suddenly got up and shouted to the soldiers, “Who will go to San Antonio with old Ben Milam?”

there was nothing Burleson could do to stop them. What followed was three days of intense street fighting that saw Texan artillery hit the nearby Alamo, saw units blow up and knock down houses, and saw San Antonio turned into a slaughterhouse. By the time General Cos surrendered on December 9, up to 35 Texans and around 150 Mexican defenders were dead.

General Cos and his surviving men were allowed to withdraw. In their place, the Texans took over the Alamo. It was a triumphant moment — one that clearly showed the central government this rebellion was serious.

Lord of Chaos: Santa Anna Marches North, the Alamo Falls, and the Goliad Massacre

Mexico’s dictator had been busy kicking the crap out of Zacatecas. The moment the rebellions exploded, Santa Anna had ridden straight to the nearest site of unrest to make an example. Zacatecas had been smashed, its cities destroyed, its economy crushed.

The message had been loud and clear: do not cross Santa Anna. And yet, here were these Texans, defying the dictator. Clearly, Santa Anna would have to ride north and deliver his message personally.

In the early weeks of 1836, the caudillo struck out, collecting an army as he went. “Collecting” here means dragging innocent villagers and indigenous peasants from their land at gunpoint. Most of Santa Anna’s 6,000 soldiers were recruited this way, mostly against their will.

Those dying under Santa Anna broadly had no quarrel with Texas, and even less desire to be there. As this dragooned mass of men marched north, the Texans were having troubles of their own. Their volunteer army was starting to fall apart, wracked by desertions.

On top of that, the chain of command was failing. When Sam Houston ordered the Alamo evacuated due to its limited strategic value, those inside instead dug in, unwilling to abandon their prize. On February 23, Santa Anna reached the Alamo, fully aware that Sam Houston was right, and it was of limited strategic value.

But since the Texans had taken it from his forces back in December, his ego would not let him just pass it by. A long siege began, one that only ended on March 6, when Santa Anna sent 1,800 men to take it in a lightning raid. In the fierce fighting that followed, William B.

Travis, Jim Bowie, and Davy Crockett were all killed, alongside another 250 or so Texans. Santa Anna lost 600 men, but the Alamo fell. As the dictator himself declared afterwards: “Much blood has been shed, but the battle is over.

It was but a small affair.” The real, consequential action in this period had been happening elsewhere. While Santa Anna had been busy at the Alamo, General José de Urrea had been giving the settlers hell.

Making a beeline for the Texan garrison at Goliad, he had conquered San Patricio, then ambushed a Texan party at Agua Dulce Creek, killing commander James Grant. But Urrea’s great victory would come when he reached Goliad, and it would be as much down to Texan incompetence as Urrea’s military skills. Goliad was under the command of James W.

Fannin, Jr., a man of legendary indecision. As Urrea approached, Sam Houston issued orders for him to fall back. But Fannin stayed put right until Urrea reached the city.

When he finally did retreat, on March 19, he ordered his men to bring the heavy cannons, slowing their escape. On top of that, he allowed an hour’s break for the animals to graze. Faced with such a disorganized opponent, Urrea was able to surround the retreating Texans at leisure.

Boxing them in, he had his soldiers point cannons at the 350 encircled men and demanded a surrender. Left with no choice, Fannin agreed. An honorable man, Urrea allowed the captured Texans to be treated as POWs.

But when word got to Santa Anna, he countermanded the order, demanding their execution. Urrea had no choice but to follow it. On March 27, 1836, the Texan prisoners were separated into four columns and told they were going to be transferred to different places.

The minute the columns marched out of sight of one another, the guards opened fire, killing all 350 POWs. Known as the Goliad Massacre, it was the biggest single Texan loss of life in the Revolution — a war crime designed to crush their will to fight. Instead, it would do something wholly unexpected: it would give Texas the motivation to finally defeat Santa Anna once and for all.

San Jacinto: Santa Anna’s Hubris and Houston’s Gamble

For all he may be the villain of the Texas Revolution, the real Santa Anna was a complex, fascinating man — a leader so good at recovering from setbacks that he managed to become president 11 separate times. Yet for all his political skill, Santa Anna was also his own biggest enemy, someone so prone to wild overreaching that he constantly fell flat on his face. It was this trait, more than anything else, that helped ensure Texas’s independence.

By this point, the bid for freedom was official. On March 2, the Texas legislature had voted to go solo. But with the fall of the Alamo and the massacre at Goliad, this could have easily been just a blip — a nominal independence that only lasted as long as it took for Santa Anna to smash Sam Houston’s army and reassert control.

Instead, the dictator was about to embark on a series of epic blunders that would soon cost him the war. Rather than destroy Houston’s forces, Santa Anna got bogged down chasing the newly formed Texan government, allowing Houston breathing space to not just regroup, but acquire artillery. On April 20, Santa Anna marched 1,300 men to Lynch’s Ferry, a wild, marshy point where the San Jacinto River met Buffalo Bayou.

By now, the dictator had already made another strategic blunder: splitting his forces, leaving himself with only a fraction of his whole army. Still, that was a bigger force than the 900 men Sam Houston had. So when Santa Anna found the Texan Army waiting for him, he assumed they would be forced to fight defensively.

Assuming the Texans would not dare attack a larger force, the dictator failed to post many guards or even send out sentries. In the late afternoon of April 21, he even told his men to retire to their tents early, in preparation for a major battle the next day. But there would be no battle the next day.

Instead, there would be a massacre — and this time, Santa Anna’s forces would be on the receiving end. That afternoon, as the Mexican camp rested, Houston rolled everything on a risky, direct attack. The Texans crept across the prairie until they were just 200 yards away, before charging the camp bellowing “Remember the Alamo!

Remember Goliad!” Within 18 minutes, the Mexican lines collapsed. Santa Anna fled.

Sam Houston ordered his men to take prisoners, but instead, a bloodbath began. With the horrors of Goliad still fresh in their minds, the regular Texan soldiers were in no mood for mercy. Over the next few hours, they systematically killed 630 of Santa Anna’s men, many of them after they had surrendered.

It may have been an inevitable response to Santa Anna’s crimes, but it was still an ugly way to end the revolution.

The Treaties of Velasco and the Lasting Impact of Texan Independence

The very next day, Santa Anna was captured. While most Texans wanted to see him executed, Sam Houston said no. Instead, he made the dictator sign the Treaties of Velasco.

Signed between Santa Anna and the Texans on May 14, the Treaties recognized Texan independence and forced the remaining Mexican forces to withdraw south of the Rio Grande. Santa Anna himself was released, on the condition that he use his position to make Mexico recognize the Republic of Texas. Not that Santa Anna would hold his position of dictator much longer.

When news broke of the Battle of San Jacinto and its one-sided outcome, Mexican society revolted. Santa Anna was overthrown, and the treaties annulled. Yet while Mexico City would never recognize it, Texas would from that day be de facto independent.

Among the legal changes the newly free Texans made: relegalizing slavery. With hindsight, it is clear now that the Texas Revolution was one of the defining events in North American history. It was the Republic of Texas’s disputed status following independence that paved the way for it to be annexed by the United States in 1845.

That annexation set the ground for the Mexican-American War and the massive territorial changes that followed. Some of the roots of the Civil War can be found here, as Texas’s admission as a slave state threatened to upset the balance of power. The story of the Texas Revolution is worth telling even without what came after — the tale of an uprising that reshaped a continent.

It may have only lasted all of eight months, but its effects, and the stories of its heroes and villains, remain with us to this very day.

Frequently Asked Questions

What sparked the Texas Revolution?

The immediate trigger was Santa Anna’s 1835 Seven Laws, which abolished state legislatures, stripped states of their rights, and replaced elected officials with appointed governors loyal to Mexico City. This centralist overreach triggered rebellions across Mexico. In Texas, the first armed clash came on October 2, 1835, when 140 settlers at Gonzales routed a 100-man Mexican detachment sent to reclaim a borrowed cannon. The settlers’ banner reading “Come and Take It” became the symbol of a rebellion that had been building through years of tax disputes, land grievances, and Mexico’s attempts to reassert control over its restive northern state.

What was the Goliad Massacre and why did it backfire on Santa Anna?

On March 27, 1836, Santa Anna ordered the execution of 350 Texan prisoners of war under General Urrea’s command, countermanding Urrea’s earlier promise of honorable treatment. The prisoners were separated into four columns, marched out of sight of one another, and then shot. It was the single largest loss of Texan life in the entire revolution and was intended to crush the rebels’ will to fight. Instead, it had the opposite effect, giving the Texan army a furious rallying cry — “Remember the Alamo!

Remember Goliad!” — that drove the soldiers who overwhelmed Santa Anna’s camp at San Jacinto just weeks later.

How did Sam Houston defeat Santa Anna at the Battle of San Jacinto?

On April 21, 1836, Houston launched a surprise attack against Santa Anna’s 1,300-man force at Lynch’s Ferry, where the San Jacinto River met Buffalo Bayou. Santa Anna had split his forces and was outnumbered only by Houston’s 900 men, but he had failed to post adequate guards, assuming the Texans would not dare attack. That afternoon, while the Mexican camp rested in preparation for a battle the next day, Houston’s men crept to within 200 yards before charging. Within 18 minutes the Mexican lines collapsed.

Santa Anna fled but was captured the next day, and the battle was effectively over.

What were the Treaties of Velasco and did they end the conflict with Mexico?

Signed on May 14, 1836, the Treaties of Velasco were agreements Santa Anna signed as a captive, recognizing Texan independence and ordering remaining Mexican forces to withdraw south of the Rio Grande. He was then released on condition that he use his position to secure Mexico’s formal recognition of the Republic. However, when news of San Jacinto reached Mexico, Santa Anna was overthrown and the treaties were annulled. Mexico City never formally recognized Texas, but from that day Texas functioned as a de facto independent republic until its annexation by the United States in 1845.

Why was Manuel de Mier y Terán’s 1827 report so significant?

Terán was sent north by Mexico City to investigate the settler program after a small Texian gang had attempted the Fredonian Rebellion in 1826. His report was a stark warning: Anglo settlers now outnumbered Tejanos east of San Antonio by five to one in many places, and their loyalty to Mexico ranged from shaky to nonexistent. He concluded Mexico had been foolishly outmaneuvered by its own immigration policy. The report prompted Mexico City to outlaw slavery in Texas and ultimately suspend the Colonization Act, moves that came too late and only deepened Texian resentment toward the central government.

Sources

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