The Catastrophic Delusion: The Marquis de Rays’ ‘New France’ Colonial Scam Unravels in the South Pacific

In the summer of 1880, a cruel deception reached its zenith as dozens of desperate, impoverished families boarded immigrant ships, believing they were bound for the flourishing, bustling settlement of "New France." Unbeknownst to these hopeful souls, their promised land was a mirage, conjured by a French con man, Charles Marie Bonaventure De Rays, who was about to strand them in the unforgiving, undeveloped jungles of the South Pacific. This elaborate scheme, known as the De Rays Expeditions, saw a series of vessels deliver ill-prepared individuals to a remote island, leaving them to contend with starvation, rampant disease, and the brutal elements of an untamed wilderness, while the architect of their misfortune absconded with their life savings. The survivors were ultimately forced into a desperate fight for survival, a harrowing escape attempt that etched a dark chapter into the annals of colonial history.

The Architect of Deception: Charles Marie Bonaventure De Rays

The mastermind behind this catastrophic venture was born Charles Marie Bonaventure De Rays in 1832 on his father’s estate in Finistère, France. He inherited the noble title of Marquis only a few years later, a rare factual claim amidst his many fabrications. From an early age, De Rays harbored an inflated sense of destiny, reportedly fueled by an encounter with a fortune teller, convincing him he was destined for greatness. His schoolmates, perhaps prophetically, nicknamed him "the little colonist" due to his grandiose, often utopian, schemes. This early penchant for ambitious, if ill-conceived, projects foreshadowed the grand deception he would later orchestrate.

De Rays spent his younger years pursuing fame and fortune across continents, with stints in the United States, Senegal, Madagascar, and French Indo-China (modern-day Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia). Despite these extensive travels, he remained largely unsuccessful in his endeavors. He eventually returned to his estates, married, and had several children. However, the tumultuous socio-economic landscape of post-Franco-Prussian War Europe, characterized by widespread destruction, economic depression, and a pervasive sense of displacement, seemed to re-ignite his dormant ambitions. He recognized in this widespread desperation a fertile ground for exploitation.

In 1877, De Rays declared an ostensibly unclaimed area of the map, stretching from the Solomon Islands to eastern New Guinea, as his personal possession and declared himself its king, "King Charles I of New France." This audacious claim, while appearing absurd today, mirrored the colonial practices of European powers of the era, such as King Leopold II’s acquisition of the Congo Free State, which was similarly based on dubious claims and resulted in immense human suffering. De Rays’ vision was to establish a profitable colony, a "New France," in a region largely unknown to most Europeans, promising a fresh start and prosperity to those willing to gamble on his vision.

A Utopian Vision: The Lure of New France

To populate his nascent kingdom, De Rays embarked on an aggressive recruitment campaign. He launched an official newspaper, La Nouvelle France, penned by his Belgian doctor, friend, and accomplice, Dr. Paul de Groote. This propaganda painted a vivid picture of a tropical paradise with "perpetual springtime," free from natural disasters and epidemics, boasting incredibly fertile soil. The Marquis sold shares in the colony to investors, promising lucrative returns from the labor of future colonists.

For the colonists themselves, the appeal was immense. Many were desperate Europeans, reeling from the aftermath of the Franco-Prussian War (1870-1871), which had left France economically devastated and socially fractured. The promise of escape from this hardship was powerful. Colonists could purchase passage, a four-bedroom house, and 20 hectares of cleared, arable land for 1,800 francs – approximately $300 at the time, equivalent to about $7,500 today. For those unable to pay, an option existed to work as indentured servants for five years, after which they would receive the same land and house. De Rays conveniently assured them that the bulk of the arduous labor would be performed by indigenous locals, Chinese, or Malay laborers, and other ethnic minorities, placing them at the bottom of his envisioned social hierarchy.

Recruiters, like the particularly successful Milanese agent Edwige Schenini, fanned out across Europe, luring hundreds of Italians, along with French, Spanish, Belgian, Swiss, and English individuals, into the scheme. The Marquis also sought to legitimize his venture by incorporating the church, offering a Catholic missionary organization free passage, food, housing, and privileged rank within the colony, intending for these religious officials to form the administrative backbone of New France.

Among the hopefuls was 14-year-old Jean Baptiste Octave Mouton and his father. Mouton, who had left school at 11 to work as a barber, recounted in his memoirs how his father was "quite taken" with the scheme after reading the colony’s newspaper. They, like many others, were interviewed by De Rays in Paris and then shuffled between various boarding houses across Europe before finally setting sail, their dreams of a new life tragically misplaced.

The Ill-Fated Voyages Begin: The Chandernagore

The first ship chartered by De Rays was the Chandernagore. It spent months fruitlessly seeking a government willing to endorse or be complicit in De Rays’ plans, being turned away from French and Belgian ports. Finally, in September 1879, it departed from Antwerp. Aboard were 82 passengers, a year’s worth of provisions, agricultural and manufacturing equipment, 180,000 bricks, and various tools – all intended for a colony that did not exist. De Rays himself remained absent, assuring his representative, Titeu de la Croix, that he would join them later.

The voyage was fraught with difficulties. Captain MacLaughlin, an American, struggled to maintain order amidst constant setbacks. There was no doctor on board, and the lack of health papers prevented them from docking for crucial resupply along the way. The ship’s navigator was reportedly a violent drunk, often needing to be restrained, and the captain and De la Croix were in constant conflict.

In January 1880, the Chandernagore finally sailed into Likiliki Bay on the remote island of New Ireland, part of the Bismarck Archipelago. What they found was not the promised bustling port of Port Breton, complete with schools, roads, factories, a hospital, and a cathedral, but a dense, inhospitable jungle. The landing site was a swampy spit of land with spongy coral soil utterly unsuitable for their agricultural ambitions. The "capital" of New France was nothing more than an overgrown wilderness.

After a cursory inspection, De la Croix, accompanied by the drunken navigator, promptly re-boarded the ship and sailed away, abandoning MacLaughlin and the remaining settlers to their fate. The disillusionment was immediate and profound as the reality of their situation dawned.

Successive Waves of Deceit: The Genil and India

While the first wave of colonists battled the harsh realities of their non-existent paradise, De Rays continued his recruitment drive, loading more hopefuls onto subsequent ships. The steamer Genil departed Barcelona in March 1880 under the command of the notoriously brutal Captain Rabardy. Many settlers, protesting Rabardy’s harsh punishments, jumped ship in Singapore. With only seven original colonists and 25 new Malay recruits, Rabardy reached Port Breton in August.

There, they found not a flourishing settlement, but the desolate ruins of the first expedition. The Chandernagore colonists, lacking provisions, unable to construct adequate shelters, and ravaged by tropical fevers, had sent a desperate plea for help to a missionary organization on the Duke of York Islands, about 100 kilometers away. The missionary leader, George Brown, described the survivors as a "pitiful lot," noting that 27 of the original 89 were already dead. His assessment, though perhaps colored by cultural bias, suggested homesickness played a role, but the stark reality was a catastrophic lack of planning, resources, and leadership. Less than half of the Chandernagore cohort survived, the rest succumbing to disease, starvation, or disappearing into the unforgiving jungle.

With so few left, the Genil remained at Port Breton, awaiting the arrival of the next, much larger ship: the India.

The India, carrying around fifty families – women, children, and the elderly among them – mostly Italian peasants, left Barcelona in July 1880 under Colonel Le Prevost. Unlike the earlier shipments of primarily young men, this voyage highlighted the broader impact of De Rays’ scheme on entire communities. The three-month journey was a nightmare, with many dying from disease, privation, or accidents before even reaching their destination.

Upon arrival at Port Breton, their struggles intensified. The promised land was a deserted swamp. Despite their arduous efforts to establish infrastructure and agriculture, the conditions were overwhelming. The intense heat, torrential rains, and unsuitable soil rendered their farming efforts futile. Mosquito- and water-borne illnesses, particularly malaria, ripped through the population, while food supplies dwindled and became inedible. The death toll mounted alarmingly.

It is crucial to acknowledge that New Ireland was not uninhabited. The island had been home to indigenous populations, such as the Lak people, for some 33,000 years. The Port Breton site itself was largely avoided by them due to its inherent unsuitability for settlement. While contemporary newspaper reports sensationalized mentions of settlers being "eaten by headhunters," there is little credible evidence of significant conflict between the colonists and indigenous groups at this stage. The settlers were, tragically, dying effectively enough on their own due to the impossible conditions and De Rays’ negligence. A large stone grinding wheel, discovered at the Port Breton settlement, stands as a silent testament to their futile attempts at self-sufficiency.

Desperate Escapes and Lingering Hope

By late 1880, the situation was so dire that the Genil was dispatched for help. Captain MacLaughlin, who had previously left for Sydney, was reportedly coerced back into the disastrous project. Along with Le Prevost and Rabardy, he undertook the Genil‘s ill-fated rescue mission, promising to return within 40 days.

After 70 agonizing days of waiting, the desperate survivors at Port Breton, their numbers severely depleted, packed themselves onto the India, which was itself in a deteriorating condition. In a tragic twist of fate, the India departed on February 20, 1881, the very same day the Genil finally returned. The two ships, carrying the hopes of the desperate and the means of their potential rescue, passed each other unknowingly.

The India, battered and overloaded with sick and hungry passengers, aimed for Australia, making a crucial stop at the French penal colony of Noumea in New Caledonia. Over a dozen more colonists died before they staggered into Noumea. There, authorities declared the India unfit to continue its voyage to Australia, leaving the survivors stranded on a remote prison island, with no sign of "King Charles."

However, the plight of the colonists reached the ears of the government of New South Wales, Australia, which, taking pity on them, dispatched the steamer James Patterson for their rescue. A passenger list from the James Patterson starkly illustrates the human cost of De Rays’ "New France." Out of approximately 340 colonists who had sailed from Spain on the India, only 217 arrived alive in NSW.

In a final, heartbreaking irony, on the very day the India‘s survivors disembarked in Sydney, the Nouvelle Bretagne landed in Port Breton. Aboard were Jean Baptiste Octave Mouton, his father, and 150 others, ready to begin their new lives in the paradise that had already claimed so many.

The Final Act of Abandonment and Justice

Meanwhile, Captain Rabardy and the Genil were, once again, at an abandoned Port Breton, waiting for another ship. Rabardy, described variously as eccentric, insane, and brutal, was bored, unsupervised, and armed with a Gatling gun. He collaborated with traders from the Duke of York islands to corner and massacre a local tribe on nearby Méoko island, an incident highlighting the brutal realities and casual violence often perpetrated by Europeans in colonial outposts.

Rabardy was back at Port Breton to "welcome" the Nouvelle Bretagne. Its passengers, like all before them, were shattered by the revelation of the deception. "What a delusion!" Mouton famously wrote. "Our paradise has become a hell, rather than a land of promise." He vividly described the small, perpetually damp bay, littered with the remnants of ill-conceived attempts at settlement: abandoned sugar-processing machines without a single sugar cane planted, wheelbarrows missing wheels, and failing gardens. They worked tirelessly to clear land and improve shelters, but dwindling food supplies and the relentless grip of malaria soon took their toll.

Nouvelle Bretagne‘s Captain Henry, realizing the gravity of the situation, sailed for Manila to procure more supplies, wiring De Rays for funds that never arrived. Henry was subsequently detained until he could pay for the goods he had taken on. Taking advantage of a storm, he slipped his anchor and returned to Port Breton, bringing vital supplies. However, a Spanish man-of-war soon arrived, initially intending to arrest Henry, but found the colonists in such a sick, hungry, and pathetic state that their criminal pursuit quickly transformed into a rescue mission.

The Spanish authorities arrested Captain Henry but also evacuated most of the remaining colonists, leaving behind only about 40 stragglers. Dr. Alexandre Baudouin, the medical officer, struggled to contend with the violent and chaotic Captain Rabardy, pleading with him to admit defeat and evacuate the dwindling colony. On February 4, 1882, Baudouin and other disillusioned colonists deposed Rabardy and his ally, the appointed governor Chambaud. They declared "New France" a republic and unanimously voted to abandon the doomed settlement. They packed onto the Genil and set sail for New South Wales. Captain Rabardy, to the general relief of his passengers, died en route to Sydney.

Legacy and Implications

Of the approximately 700 colonists ensnared in De Rays’ elaborate scheme, only about 360 are confirmed to have survived. Most found refuge and new lives in Australia. Captain MacLaughlin, surprisingly, became a newspaper editor and lived to a ripe old age, dying in 1927. The Italian survivors from the India went on to establish the settlement of New Italy in New South Wales, a testament to their resilience, which continues to exist today as a vibrant cultural heritage site. Captain Henry was eventually acquitted of any wrongdoing. Jean Baptiste Octave Mouton became a successful independent trader in German New Guinea and later retired to the Sydney suburbs, where he penned his invaluable memoirs, offering a firsthand account of the tragedy.

The Marquis de Rays was finally arrested for embezzlement in France and brought to trial. Dr. Alexandre Baudouin, the medical officer from the final expedition, provided damning testimony against him. De Rays was fined and sentenced to five years in prison. Unreformed and unrepentant, upon his release, he continued his pattern of deception, reportedly attempting to seduce wealthy American women and selling fake gunpowder, until his death in 1893 finally put an end to his elaborate scheming.

The "New France" colonial scam stands as a stark historical lesson in the dangers of unchecked ambition, the vulnerability of desperate populations, and the dark underbelly of colonial expansion. It highlights how the allure of a utopian future, especially in times of economic and social upheaval, can blind individuals to obvious dangers. The incident also underscores the broader, often exploitative, nature of 19th-century colonialism, where distant lands were claimed, resources were plundered, and human lives were treated as expendable commodities in the pursuit of wealth and prestige. The tragic tale of New France serves as a chilling reminder of how a fabricated dream can quickly devolve into a living nightmare, leaving behind a trail of death, despair, and broken promises.