While the Crown Prince labored to build a settlement in far-off California and slowly made his return, many affairs had transpired in Mexico.
First, Stephen Austin—dubbed the Father of Texas—was taken aback by the newly hardened terms imposed by the Mexican side. Yet faced with the Emperor's brusque stance—"Take it or leave it"—he eventually relented.
With Texas settled, Emperor Agustín I used the embezzlement uncovered during the confiscation of Peninsular Spaniards' estates as pretext to replace several regional military commanders. The officers, stunned by the summons, soon surrendered to resignation. To resist meant war with the central army—and to lose meant execution. The Emperor's justification was sound, and the regional forces lacked the means to challenge a well-financed central military.
Until the replacement of these commanders was complete, the Emperor deliberately stalled the constitutional process, refusing assent to any draft. Using the wealth seized from the confiscations, he began paying soldiers and civil servants, hiring new officials and dispatching them to the provinces.
The Republican deputies, foaming at the mouth, railed against Agustín I for his despotism. But the people, seeing an emperor who appeared to be governing with purpose, could not understand such vitriol.
"Dictatorship!"
"Agustín I must end his tyranny!"
"What are they even talking about?"
"How is sending civil servants to collect taxes tyranny?"
"Exactly. Why should only we pay taxes?"
As rumors swirled that regional governors were shirking taxes while Mexico City resumed its collections, public sentiment turned cold.
"The Emperor's just restoring order while Congress idles—what's the problem?"
"Your Majesty, please expedite the constitution so that we may fulfill our duties!"
"Then agree to my terms, and it shall be done."
For a full year this stalemate endured. By then, the provincial commanders had been replaced, the harvests of confiscated estates were rolling in, and the Emperor—now owning several silver mines—was printing pesos and enjoying the profits of coinage.
Though Mexico still bore staggering national debt, the economy was beginning to stir, and the Emperor had secured enough funds to expand the central army.
"...We cannot hold out any longer. Give this man one more year and constitutional monarchy will be but a dream."
"So we should accept the Emperor's constitution? His powers would be far too great!"
"And it's not even a federation!"
"Let's set federalism aside for now—it divides even us. As for Agustín's draft, technically it is a constitutional monarchy."
"What? What did you just say? Whose side are you on?"
The Republicans could no longer maintain unity. Some advocated acceptance of the Emperor's offer; others insisted on resistance.
"We've held out long enough. Delay any further, and Congress itself may be made obsolete. The citizens feel no grievance toward the Emperor!"
"Sigh... Let us seek the greatest compromise we can."
At last, the Republicans yielded.
Agustín I, though personally opposed to constitutional monarchy, had been convinced through talks with his son that the world had changed irrevocably since the French Revolution. The rising tides of liberalism and republicanism could no longer be turned back, and compromise—even if superficial—was necessary.
Thus, the first Constitution of the Mexican Empire was drafted. In summary:
The Emperor exercises sovereignty in the name of the people.
The national religion is Roman Catholicism.
The legislature is unicameral; deputies are elected by vote.
Terms last four years, with a maximum of three terms (twelve years total).
Congress holds legislative authority and appoints the Prime Minister, though the Emperor has veto power.
The Prime Minister may recommend ministers to lead each executive department, but the Emperor may veto these appointments.
The Emperor holds power to issue executive orders.
He controls military and foreign affairs, but war declarations require two-thirds approval from Congress.
Provincial governors are appointed by the Emperor, serve eight-year terms, and rule in accordance with the Constitution and central directives.
The Chief Justice is appointed by the Emperor for a twelve-year term.
The Emperor holds authority to dismiss any civil servant.
Constitutional amendments require two-thirds of Congress and the Emperor's approval.
"This... this is what you call constitutional monarchy?"
"Isn't this just a fancy way of saying the Emperor can do whatever he pleases?"
"Still, there's voting and some input from Parliament and the Prime Minister..."
"Yes... it has to start somewhere, doesn't it?"
Among the Republicans, opinions on the constitution remained divided. But Agustín I was satisfied.
"For a constitutional monarchy, this is rather splendid. Ahem!"
Six months later, the legislature elected a Prime Minister. The Prime Minister submitted cabinet appointments, of which the Emperor approved only those he favored. He also appointed justices and governors.
Though the Emperor's will prevailed in most affairs, the Prime Minister and Congress exerted considerable influence—as long as they did not provoke his displeasure.
The Emperor's base—the Church, the landed gentry, and conservative legislators—were content. The Mexican Empire was stabilizing.
Yet one lingering worry haunted Agustín I: the Crown Prince, who had departed for California, remained unheard of. Was he even alive?
"Darling, shouldn't we send the army to find him?"
"Hrm... perhaps we should."
'It's been a year and a half. Surely nothing's happened to him… right?'
For the past year, Empress María had fretted over Jerónimo's fate and pressured Agustín I constantly. At last, even he began to worry.
'Perhaps I gave my consent too hastily.'
At the time, he'd been too elated by the prospect of confiscating Spanish estates to dwell on it, but Jerónimo had only been fifteen years old. Wasn't that far too young to be tasked with such an undertaking in California?
The Emperor began to regret sending his firstborn so far afield.