Agustín I’s greatest mistake was undoubtedly dissolving Congress.
And that dissolution came after opposition deputies were arrested, provoking an even fiercer backlash from the rest of the legislature.
If the opposition deputies have already been arrested, then the situation is much worse.
Reconciliation with Congress would be almost impossible, and preparing for civil war might be the only realistic option.
Stopping my father was the priority, but I didn’t rush straight to him.
Even though I was his eldest son, barging in without properly understanding the current situation and trying to interfere with the Emperor’s decisions would be insane.
First, understand the situation.
I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Mother, it’s Jerónimo.”
“Come in, my son.”
Hmm… Judging from her voice, she seems fond of me.
I possessed none of the original Agustín Jerónimo de Iturbide’s memories, so I had very little information to work with.
Most mothers loved their children, but there were always exceptions.
If you were going to send me here, you could’ve at least given me his memories.
Other gods manage that much.
Complaining inwardly about the mysterious Mexican grandfather, I opened the door.
Inside the luxuriously decorated room sat a dignified-looking woman.
She was my mother, Ana María.
She looked surprisingly youthful, perhaps like a woman in her mid-thirties by modern standards.
She wasn’t the sort of dazzling beauty who would stop people in the street, but she carried the unmistakable refinement of a woman born into a wealthy family.
Agustín I had become a major landowner in part through the dowry she brought into their marriage, so her family had clearly been extremely rich.
“My son, what brings you here?
You haven’t come to see your mother in quite some time.”
She sounded genuinely surprised by my visit.
Since I knew almost nothing about how the original Jerónimo normally behaved, I chose the safest possible answer.
“I came because I wanted to see you, Mother.”
“What?
Are you really my son?”
Huh?
A chill ran down my spine for a moment.
Then I noticed her amused expression.
She was teasing me.
“Of course I’m your son.
Who else would I be?”
“You hardly speak to your mother these days.
Have you finally grown up?”
Ah.
This body was fifteen.
Apparently, the original Jerónimo had been going through an adolescent phase and had caused his mother some concern.
“Haha… Maybe I have.
By the way, has Father been very busy lately?”
I smoothly changed the subject.
Mother sighed.
“Your father spends every day arguing with the deputies.
Even as Emperor, he can’t simply do whatever he wishes.”
At least I avoided the worst possible timing.
If Agustín I was still merely arguing with the deputies, then he had not yet arrested the opposition members.
Good.
At least I was sent here before that happened.
I had been thrown into the past without the original owner’s memories and without any convenient supernatural boost to my strength or intelligence.
In this otherwise disappointing situation, at least my arrival had been timed well.
The arrest of the opposition deputies occurred in late August 1822, while the dissolution of Congress followed later that year.
That meant the present date had to be somewhere before those events.
So I’m fifteen years old.
Exactly the age when people expect you to act like an idiot.
I continued asking questions.
“How is the political situation inside the country lately?”
It was an odd question for a fifteen-year-old to casually ask his mother, but Mexico had only recently achieved independence.
Hopefully, it wouldn’t seem too strange.
Mother looked at me curiously.
“So you didn’t come merely because you missed your mother.
Have you become interested in politics?”
“Yes.
I’m the Crown Prince now.”
“Haha.
You really do seem to have matured overnight.
It feels a little strange, but you’re right.
As Crown Prince, it’s good for you to take an interest in politics.
What would you like to know?”
“What happened to the peninsulares?”
“Most returned to Spain during the War of Independence.”
The peninsulares were Spaniards born on the Iberian Peninsula who had occupied the highest positions in colonial Latin America.
Spain had relied on them to administer its colonies, and because their identities and interests were closely tied to Spain, many had opposed Mexican independence.
“And the ones who remain?
How many are left?”
“Very few.
Those who remain will gradually be expelled.”
Wow.
The expulsions are beginning sooner than I expected.
The peninsulares had monopolized many senior administrative positions under colonial rule.
If they all disappeared at once, the empire’s bureaucracy would inevitably suffer.
More importantly, they were among the colony’s most educated elites and had direct exposure to Europe’s latest developments, including the Industrial Revolution that had begun in Britain.
Mexico had universities, of course, and many criollos—people of Spanish descent born in the Americas—were well educated.
But the peninsulares still possessed valuable connections and knowledge.
“Then tax collection must be suffering.”
“The financial situation isn’t good, but your father will handle it.
Don’t worry too much.”
Mother affectionately stroked my head as if reassuring a worried child.
Unfortunately, I knew enough about Mexico’s historical situation to be anything but reassured.
The newly independent country was a complete mess.
Years of war had devastated public finances.
The state carried enormous debts.
Administration was disorganized.
Tax collection barely functioned.
And many regions resisted the authority of the central government.
Agustín I and the deputies also lacked experience with parliamentary government.
They were attempting to build a new political system while simultaneously fighting over their own interests.
The only thing keeping the country afloat was vague optimism—the belief that because independence had finally been achieved, everything would somehow improve.
“Is it true that the government can’t properly pay the salaries of officials and soldiers?”
“I don’t know the details, but… probably.”
Now I understand why Agustín I eventually lost control of the army.
At present, my father possessed three major sources of power.
First was popular support.
He was, after all, one of the central heroes of Mexican independence.
His popularity would decline sharply in the future, but for now, ordinary citizens still regarded him favorably.
Second was military support.
My father had built a distinguished military career and exercised enormous influence over Mexico’s armed forces even before becoming emperor.
Third was conservative support.
The Church and major landowners feared radical social upheaval.
Naturally, they favored my father, who was himself a wealthy landowner and monarchist.
But the army mattered most.
Even if the treasury is empty, the soldiers have to be paid.
Lose the army and everything collapses.
Military power reinforced my father’s authority with both the people and conservative elites.
Agustín I was also an accomplished soldier.
As long as he maintained firm control over the central army, he could suppress rebellions by republican officers or rebellious provinces.
Unfortunately, if the soldiers went months without pay and saw no prospect of receiving it, their loyalty would inevitably erode.
In the end, everything comes down to money.
It wasn’t as though Mexico had no potential source of wealth.
California had gold.
The famous Gold Rush was still decades away, and enormous deposits remained untouched.
If I could reach them and develop them, the wealth would be tremendous.
The problem was time.
The government needed money now.
Without railways, merely reaching California from central Mexico would take months.
I need another solution.
Trying to think of a way to obtain money immediately was giving me a headache.
Then a thought struck me.
“Mother, what happened to the properties belonging to the peninsulares?”
“They took most of their portable valuables with them, but many estates and farms remain.
Some still manage or sell their properties through representatives.”
“Spain can’t send an army here right now, can it?”
“That’s right.”
At least for the moment, Spain lacked the ability to project serious military power into Mexico.
The Napoleonic Wars and the political upheavals that followed had left Spain unstable.
Spain would eventually attempt to reconquer Mexico, but not immediately.
That gave us breathing room.
I already knew that, of course.
I had asked because I needed to know whether people in this era understood it too.
“There has been rebellion and unrest in Spain itself,” Mother added.
Just as I thought.
My father had once served as a Spanish officer.
He undoubtedly understood Spain’s weakness better than almost anyone.
If Spain had possessed the strength to stop Mexican independence, it would have done so already.
“Then if we confiscate the properties belonging to the Spanish Crown and to peninsulares who fled or opposed independence, Spain can’t do much about it right now, can it?”
Mother hesitated.
“Hmm… perhaps not immediately.
But isn’t that too radical?
Spain would certainly seek revenge.”
Mexico and Spain are going to fight again eventually, confiscation or not.
“It would be worse if the government collapsed right now.
Mother, you know how precarious the situation is.”
“…”
“Father’s power comes from the army.
What happens to our family if he loses that power?”
Her expression grew serious.
“…What are you planning?”
“Father is exhausted from fighting Congress and may be considering extreme measures.
I want to persuade him to choose another path.
Please help me, Mother.”
A fifteen-year-old boy confronting the Emperor alone would not be particularly persuasive.
Going together with my mother would be far more effective.
After all, Agustín I was deeply devoted to his wife.
They had ten children together.
High infant mortality made large families common in this era, but ten children was still a remarkable number.
Among aristocrats, some families deliberately limited additional heirs once they had secured a successor and a spare because too many children could complicate inheritance.
If Mother supported my proposal, Father wouldn’t be able to dismiss it easily.
Together, we headed toward the National Palace, the residence of Mexico’s imperial family and the center of the new government.
Besides preparing arguments to convince Agustín I, I need to consider how he sees me as his eldest son.
This body had been raised in a wealthy household and was well nourished.
At fifteen, I was already around 175 centimeters tall.
But judging by Mother’s reaction, Father probably still regarded me as an immature adolescent.
That could be a serious problem.
If he refused to take me seriously, there would be very little I could do.
Given more time, I might have joined the army and gradually earned his trust.
But history gave me only months before the government collapsed.
There was no time.
I wish I had even a few memories of speaking with him.
Unable to suppress my anxiety, I asked Mother,
“Do you think Father will take me seriously?”
“…I’m not sure.
But if I speak with him too, he won’t completely ignore you.
Don’t worry.”
While talking, we reached his office.
A soldier stood guard outside.
“I’ve come to speak with His Majesty.”
Seeing both Mother and me, the soldier entered the office to announce our arrival.
A moment later, he returned.
“His Majesty says you may enter.”
It was time to meet Agustín I—the man currently holding Mexico’s fate in his hands.
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