Upon the death of “Robert Charles Frederick,” his son, “George William Clarence,” the present incumbent of the Mosquito throne, was duly proclaimed “King” by the Regent McDonald, and his colleagues. His first act, under their direction, was the revocation of all the grants which his father had made to the traders, on the ground that the royal Robert Charles was drunk when he made them, and that they had been given without a consideration. An agent was then appointed to take charge of this tender scion of royalty, at Bluefields, where the latter still remains, in complete subjection to his masters, who direct all his acts, or rather compel his endorsement of their own. From 1841 up to 1848 the proceedings of the English agents, in developing their policy in respect to the Mosquito Shore, and in preparing the way for its final aggregation to the British crown, rise beyond the scope of sober history or serious recital, and could only be properly illustrated by the appropriate pens of Charivari, or of Punch.
All these proceedings were firmly and earnestly protested against by the Central American States, who, however, received no satisfactory replies to their remonstrances. They were, furthermore, too much occupied with their own interior dissensions to undertake any effectual resistance to the aggressions of the English agents. In this emergency they addressed an appeal to the civilized nations of Europe, and a particular and fervent one to the United States, for its interference in behalf of their clear territorial rights and sovereignty.
Before time was afforded for action on these appeals, the termination of the war with Mexico, and the purchase of California by the United States, precipitated the course of English intrigue and encroachment on the Mosquito Shore. The British government was not slow to perceive that the acquisition of California would give to the long-cherished project of establishing a ship-canal between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, a new, practical, and immediate importance, and rightly foresaw that it would soon come to attract a large share of public attention in the United States. Orders were at once issued for the seizure of the Port of San Juan de Nicaragua, the only possible eastern terminus for a canal by way of the river San Juan, and the Nicaraguan lakes. This port had always been in the undisputed occupation both of Spain and Nicaragua; not a single Mosquito Indian had ever dwelt there, or within fifty miles of it, in any direction, yet, under pretext that it constituted “part of the proper dominions of his Mosquito Majesty, of whom Great Britain was the lawful protector,” two British vessels-of-war entered the harbor in the month of January, 1848, tore down the Nicaraguan flag, raised that of “Mosquito,” turned out the Nicaraguan officers, and filled their places with Englishmen. This done, they sailed away; but no sooner did the intelligence of the event reach the interior, than the Nicaraguan government sent down a small force, expelled the intruders, and resumed possession. The British forces, considerably augmented, thereupon returned. The Nicaraguans, unable to oppose them, retired up the river, and erected some rude fortifications on its banks. They were followed by an English detachment, and finally routed, with great loss. Hostilities were further prosecuted, until the Nicaraguans, powerless against the forces of Great Britain, consented to an armistice, which provided that they should not disturb San Juan, or attempt to reoccupy the port, pending the negotiations which, it was foreseen, would follow upon the seizure. All attempts to induce them to relinquish their claims of sovereignty over the port, were, however, unsuccessful.
By this high-handed act, committed in time of profound peace, Lord Palmerston, who had directed it, fondly hoped to secure for Great Britain the control of the then-supposed only feasible means of communication between the seas. He had grasped, as he thought, the key of the Central American Isthmus. English officers were at once installed in San Juan, and a “Consul General” appointed to reside there, with the most absolute dictatorial powers, supported by what was called a “police force,” from Jamaica, and the almost constant presence of a British vessel of war in the harbor.
This act was shortly followed by the attempted seizure of the Island of Tigre, and the Gulf of Fonseca, the supposed western terminus of the proposed canal, on the Pacific. This attempt was thwarted by American diplomacy in that quarter.
The results of American interference are too recent and well-known to need recapitulation. An American company obtained the privileges of a transit through Nicaragua, and it was not long before American steamers began to run to San Juan. A large number of American citizens established themselves at the port, where they soon succeeded in suffocating British influence. They took the direction of affairs in their own hands, adopted a constitution, and organized a regular and stable government, pending the final settlement of the various questions concerning Central America, then in course of negotiation between the United States and Great Britain. In this condition the place remained, well-ordered, and affording the fullest protection to person and property, until the month of June of last year, when, under a misrepresentation of facts, and the grossest perversions of truth, inspired by unscrupulous personal hostility, the United States government was induced to issue such orders in respect to it, to a naval officer of more zeal and ambition of notoriety than either wisdom or discretion, as resulted in its bombardment and total destruction. Since this act, which has met the unanimous reprehension of the country, the town has been partly rebuilt and re-occupied, and now maintains an extraordinary and most anomalous condition, which can not long endure without resulting in serious complications. The United States insists, and justly, that it pertains to Nicaragua, and that all authority which may be exercised there, not derived from that State, is an usurpation; while, on the other hand, without insisting on the sovereignty of Mosquito, Great Britain denies it to Nicaragua, and prohibits her from attempting to exercise jurisdiction over it. Meantime San Juan and its people are left helplessly in a political Limbo, suffering witnesses of their inability to serve two masters. The obvious, and probably the only peaceable solution of this complication, is the voluntary establishment of San Juan as a free port by Nicaragua, under the joint protection of England and the United States.
Since 1849, nearly the whole interest of the “Mosquito question” has been centered in San Juan. It is true, Messrs. Webster and Crampton agreed upon a projet, defining the limits of Mosquito jurisdiction, and establishing a de facto Sambo monarchy on the coast, recognized, if not guaranteed, both by the United States and Great Britain. But the projet found no favor in this country, and was, moreover, indignantly rejected by Nicaragua. How far subsequent negotiations have tended to bring affairs to a settlement, remains to be disclosed.
It is nevertheless certain that, while Nicaragua has fretted, the United States blustered, and Great Britain silently and sullenly relaxed her gripe, as circumstances have rendered it necessary, the “Kingdom of Mosquito” has undergone no change, but has kept on the even tenor of its way—a happy illustration of the conservative and peaceful tendencies of well-established monarchical institutions! Under all the complications of the modern time, the royal Clarence, the hospitable Drummer, and the bibulous Slam, ignorant of the exalted place which they occupy in the instructions, and dispatches, and notes of conference, wherewith the Slams and Drummers of other lands do gravely amuse themselves, still cherish the well-being of their beloved and fellow-subjects, who, in turn, hunt, and fish, and cultivate the “big drunk” as of yore!