Gregor MacGregor: The Con Man Who Invented an Entire Country

Around 250 settlers sailed across the Atlantic in search of his fictional nation of Poyais. More than half died.

An engraving purporting to show the port of Black River in the Territory of Poyais, published in Sketch of the Mosquito Shore in 1822. The prosperous settlement presented to prospective colonists did not exist. (Public domain)

In November 1822, a ship carrying 70 hopeful settlers arrived on the coast of Central America. They expected to find the thriving new nation of Poyais.

According to the guidebook they had read, the capital, St Joseph, possessed elegant government buildings, paved roads, banks, theatres and a royal palace. The surrounding countryside was rich and fertile, while the rivers contained nuggets of gold waiting to be collected.

The settlers had been promised new homes, government positions and opportunities unavailable in Britain. Some had even exchanged their savings for Poyaisian dollars before leaving.

Unfortunately, there was no city, no government and nobody waiting to welcome them.

Poyais did not exist.

Who was Gregor MacGregor?

The man responsible for Poyais was Gregor MacGregor, a Scottish soldier whose real life was already adventurous enough without the parts he invented.

Born near Loch Katrine in Scotland in 1786, MacGregor joined the British Army at 16 and served during the Napoleonic Wars. After leaving the army, he travelled to South America and became involved in the wars of independence against Spain.

He fought for Venezuela and New Granada, took part in several campaigns and rose to the rank of general. Some of his military exploits were genuine, although his career also contained defeats, abandoned expeditions and episodes he preferred not to discuss.

MacGregor understood the value of appearances. He dressed impressively, collected titles and presented himself as a distinguished military hero. His marriage to Josefa Antonia Andrea Aristeguieta y Lovera, a cousin of the revolutionary leader Simón Bolívar, added to his credibility.

When MacGregor arrived in London in 1821, he had an extraordinary announcement. He claimed to be the Cazique, or prince, of a newly established Central American country called Poyais. And he even had the paperwork to prove it.

Where was Poyais?

MacGregor’s country was supposedly located on the Mosquito Coast, in an area now divided between Honduras and Nicaragua.

There was a small element of truth behind his claim. In 1820, the Miskito king George Frederic Augustus had granted MacGregor approximately eight million acres of territory in exchange for rum and jewellery.

The king’s actual authority over the land was uncertain, and the territory itself was undeveloped. MacGregor nevertheless transformed this questionable land grant into a sovereign country of which he happened to be the hereditary ruler.

Poyais soon acquired everything a respectable nation required. It had a flag, a coat of arms, a constitution, government departments and an honours system. In Britain, MacGregor established offices in London, Edinburgh and Glasgow to sell land and recruit emigrants. He appointed Major William John Richardson as Poyais’s diplomatic representative in London.

He also produced land certificates and arranged the printing of Poyaisian banknotes. These looked impressive but would prove to have one significant weakness. There was nowhere in Poyais to spend them.

The fraud was far more elaborate than simply selling land he did not own. MacGregor had created an entire country and was now inviting people to live there.

What were the settlers promised?

A 355-page guidebook published under the name Captain Thomas Strangeways described Poyais in remarkable detail.

The climate was said to be pleasant and exceptionally healthy, particularly for Europeans. The soil was fertile enough to produce several maize harvests each year, while cattle and other livestock could be raised with little effort. The rivers supposedly contained gold, and the forests were filled with valuable timber. The appeal for people stuck in rainy Britain was obvious.

St Joseph was described as a well-established capital with broad streets, public buildings, merchants and a busy port. Settlers would enjoy religious freedom, low taxation and generous grants of land.

MacGregor also offered positions within the new country. Bankers, doctors, craftsmen and former soldiers were recruited to provide Poyais with the institutions it supposedly already possessed. One Edinburgh shoemaker was appointed official shoemaker to the Princess of Poyais.

The offer was well-timed

The scheme appeared at precisely the right moment. British investors were fascinated by the newly independent countries of Latin America, whose governments were raising money in London. Poyais looked like another exotic but potentially profitable opportunity.

In 1822, MacGregor attempted to raise £200,000 by selling Poyaisian government bonds. Anyone who bought one was effectively lending money to Poyais in return for annual interest of six per cent. The bonds were supposedly secured against the country’s future revenues, although neither the government nor its revenues existed.

Land in Poyais could also be purchased cheaply. For families struggling in Britain, the promise of fertile property and well-paid employment offered the possibility of an entirely new life. Hundreds believed it.

What did they find when they arrived?

The Honduras Packet sailed from London on 10 September 1822 with 70 emigrants aboard. Before their departure, some of the settlers exchanged British gold for Poyaisian dollars. MacGregor personally wished them well, then watched as the ship left under the green-cross flag of his invented nation.

When they reached the Black River two months later, there was no sign of St Joseph. The settlers found an uninhabited coastline and dense jungle. Search parties discovered a few abandoned foundations, but nothing resembling the city described in the guidebook.

At first, they assumed they must have landed in the wrong place. They unloaded their possessions and waited for the Poyaisian authorities to arrive.

Nobody came.

Another 200 settlers arrive

The settlers attempted to build shelters and organise their supplies, but the rainy season brought insects, malaria and yellow fever. Food began to run short, and their medicines proved inadequate.

Their situation worsened when the Honduras Packet sailed away, leaving them stranded.

A second ship, the Kennersley Castle, had meanwhile departed from Leith in January 1823, carrying close to 200 more settlers. Women and children had been offered free passage, which MacGregor presented as a generous gift from their new ruler.

The new arrivals found the first group sick, hungry and increasingly desperate. One settler, James Hastie, had travelled with his wife and three children. He later wrote that every circumstance seemed to have combined for their destruction.

In May 1823, a passing vessel from British Honduras discovered the settlement. Its passengers were told that there was no recognised country called Poyais and no functioning government on the coast.

The survivors were gradually evacuated to Belize, but disease continued to kill them. Of the approximately 250 people who sailed to Poyais, fewer than 50 eventually returned to Britain. Some remained in the Americas, but more than half of those who had sailed were dead. It had been a devastating trip for all involved.

What happened to MacGregor?

News of the disaster reached Britain in October 1823, but MacGregor had already left for France.

MacGregor was never prosecuted in Britain for the deaths. Establishing criminal responsibility would have been difficult: he had not accompanied the settlers, who died from disease and deprivation thousands of miles away, and he could blame the expedition’s management on his agents.

Even the fraud was less straightforward to prosecute than it appears. MacGregor possessed a genuine land grant, operated through respected intermediaries and insisted that Poyais was a legitimate colony ruined by incompetent subordinates.

Most remarkably, several survivors supported him. Six signed an affidavit blaming Colonel Hector Hall and MacGregor’s other agents, despite the fact that two of the signatories had lost children during the expedition. MacGregor had created enough truth around his enormous lie to make proving it surprisingly difficult.

Somewhat unbelievably, he then began promoting Poyais again.

Working with a French company, MacGregor arranged the sale of more land and attempted to recruit another party of emigrants. French officials understandably became suspicious when dozens of people applied for passports to a country they had never heard of. The planned ship was prevented from leaving, and MacGregor was arrested.

He was tried for fraud in France but acquitted. After returning to Britain in 1826, he was arrested again and held for about a week at Tothill Fields Bridewell, but released without charge. He continued issuing Poyaisian bonds and selling land, although the country’s reputation had suffered badly.

MacGregor finally abandoned the scheme during the 1830s. By then, Poyais had existed on paper for more than a decade.

How did his story end?

In 1838, MacGregor returned to Venezuela and applied for recognition of his earlier military service. The Venezuelan government restored his rank, granted him citizenship and awarded him a pension.

In defiance of karma, he spent his remaining years in Caracas as a respected veteran of the independence movement. When he died in 1845, he received full military honours. Government ministers and senior officers joined his funeral procession, while Venezuelan newspapers praised his courage and service.

There was no mention of the worthless banknotes, the imaginary capital or the settlers who had waited in the jungle for a government that would never arrive.

Gregor MacGregor had invented a country, sold its land, borrowed money in its name and persuaded around 250 people to sail there. Many of whom died. Yet he escaped serious punishment and ended his life as an honoured general.

Poyais was his most extraordinary creation, but his final reinvention was almost as impressive.

If you enjoyed this, you might also like:

[embed]The Talented Con Artist Who Sold The Eiffel Tower, Then Sold It Again Victor Lustig conned Paris scrap dealers, swindled Al Capone, and even fooled Charles Ponzimedium.com

[embed]The Mountains of Kong Were on Maps for a Century — They Didn’t Exist Writers, explorers, and cartographers even described the mythical range in detailmedium.com

[embed]Mapmaker Hoaxes And Phantom Places: The Weird Story Of Agloe How a fake town became real.medium.com