February 26, 1821
Government Palace, Lima
Somewhere in the distance, rifles cracked. Riva Agüero, last rebel of any note against the Viceroyalty, was being dispatched to whatever reward awaited him.
Carlos nodded, and continued studying the reports. Within the borders of the Viceroyalty, he was monarch of all he surveyed — but then, that was always the easy part. The hard part was governing the places you weren’t watching.
Especially in a place like this. The roads were literally worse than they had been in the days of the Incas. That was going to be a problem if — when — another major rebellion began. Even now, there were out-of-the-way valleys in the Andes all through his dominion ruled by Indians or Criollo bosses, where he could not dispatch a command with any hope it would be carried out… and forget doing anything about the abomination that was de Francia’s regime to the east.
At least there would be money to fix the problem. He had thought the glory days of South American silver were long gone, but the Norte Chico deposits were producing fairly well. Between that and the tribute tax[1], there would be enough money to pay for equipment to restore the silver mines in the highlands, and then the money would really flow in.[2] As for labor, the local institution of the mita[3] would help with that — and with the roads.
It was amazing how different the loyal parts of South America looked when you tried thinking of them as a realm, not as a cash cow. Three hundred years of rule, and we never bothered to fix the roads. What was wrong with us? All that silver and gold, and in the end what did we have to show for it? He was beginning to understand why so many parts of the Spanish Empire had risen in revolt. (Not that this meant they were right to do so. Certainly they had had legitimate grudges, but so had Jeroboam, and so had the sans-culottes. Rebelling against your rightful king was one of those things you weren’t supposed to do even if you had been wronged.)
Ironically enough, now that he had reconquered these lands for Spain, what Carlos really wanted was the same thing the rebels had wanted — not to be interfered with by Madrid. Especially not by the atheists and Jacobins[4] who infested the Cortes. At the same time, he meant to make sure everyone in the Viceroyalty — Criollo, Indian, negro or whoever — knew who was in charge and what was expected of them.
At least the Church was on his side, and the priests who had fled the civil war were beginning to return. Carlos was very glad Cardinal Ruffo had accepted his invitation. A real government needed a bureaucracy with a lot of literate, numerate men. Better to hire priests and monks than ask for appointees from the Cortes.
Carlos picked up another letter. This one was from Pedro Olañeta. He and his nephew Casimiro were the only men Carlos knew who were more monarchist than he was, and they were among the few that he trusted completely.
Olañeta had some concerns about events in Araucanía. Although the Mapuche seemed to have decided on personal union with the throne of Spain — good — and had declared Catholicism their official religion, they were establishing a Cortes of their own for local governance. Henry Clay, it seemed, was relaying them advice through the U.S. ambassador on how to do this. To Olañeta, this was setting a bad precedent, especially since this Cortes would be the real power in the land — Ferdinand was far less likely to take an interest in the affairs of Araucanía than the British king was to take an interest in Hanover.
Carlos wasn’t so sure this was a problem. He truly believed that God had honored the Spanish nation with kings they were duty-bound to obey — but the Mapuche were manifestly not Spaniards. They were allies, and had proven over centuries that they made better allies than subjects. It helped to think of their Cortes as a fuero — Carlos came of a long line of monarchs who respected fueros and the local peculiarities of custom behind them. In his opinion, failing to respect such was one of many things the Spanish Cortes was doing wrong.
[1] The silver mines in what is IOTL Bolivia still have ore in them, but they’ve been damaged and flooded by the rebellions. Among other things, steam engines are needed to pump out the water.
[2] A tax placed on the native population. Pretty much what it sounds like.
[3] A system of labor drafts on the native population, invented by the Inca and continued by the colonial governors of Peru.
[4] In Carlos’s opinion, anyway.
