The electoral machine gun in Guadeloupe

"No news is good news." So we must believe that for the past month, everything has been going well in Guadeloupe, that no more bombs are going off, and that the gendarmes are no longer required to shoot at the crowd.

Unfortunately, the details that reach us about the events of the last elections are not exactly designed to keep us in this optimism.

The traveler who disembarked last April at Pointe-à-Pitre opened his eyes wide at the sight of detachments of Republican Guards who, with gendarmes and sailors, patrolled the docks. Guards from Paris, to be sure. Some revolt to be repressed by force? No. A far-sighted administration was simply reminding citizens that the elections were approaching.

For three weeks, there was general commotion. Teams of marine riflemen practiced noisily at Camp Jacob. Meanwhile, the election campaign was raging throughout the colony. A curious campaign! One candidate was seen holding triumphant meetings with only the armed forces as an audience, while the mayor of Basse-Terre was, nearby, dispersing the crowd that was cheering his competitor.

Because, in Guadeloupe, where labels count for little, the political situation is simple: you are either for or against Boisneuf. The administration is against it. This is probably why a few days before May 11, the Public Prosecutor's Office had the said Boisneuf summoned to court for offenses dating back two years. The Second Empire had ceased all prosecutions against Henri Rochefort, candidate for deputy...

On Sunday, May 11, at 8:30 in the morning, the aviso Antarès, anchored in the harbor of Pointe-à-Pitre, sent a broadside of twenty-one cannon shots. The previous evening, a small-caliber gun had been paraded through the streets. All night long, helmeted soldiers had occupied the Hôtel-de-Ville, where Mr. Jean François, mayor, running mate of Mr. Candace and opponent of Mr. Boisneuf, was sleeping. Telephone communications between individuals were prohibited and all cables required by the government. Guadeloupe was cut off from the mainland.

Two rows of gendarmes blocked the entrance to the town hall. Only three voters were allowed to enter at a time. Even then, they had to resign themselves to being searched first.

However, only three hundred voter cards had been distributed. All those who were candid and came to claim theirs were strongly advised to move on. A machine gun, installed on the sidewalk opposite, was ready to make the recalcitrants see reason.

At a rate of three voters every five minutes, the operation continued until two o'clock. At that precise moment, a grenade exploded inside the town hall. Mr. Jean François immediately ordered the police to evacuate the surrounding streets and, until 6 o'clock, no one was able to come and vote.

Who had thrown the grenade? Probably one of the voters who had been searched at the entrance?

The counting of the ballot boxes at the Pointe-à-Pitre town hall lasted exactly two days and two nights. During this time, no one, except the entourage of the mayor-candidate, was able to get past the bayonet barriers guarding the building.

In other localities?

In Le Moule, the administrative delegate, armed with the town hall seal and a blank signed report, coldly assigned 1,800 votes to the official list. The counting had not taken place.

In Lamentin, the cards had not been delivered to the 1,800 registered voters. Disgusted, the population did not vote. One thousand nine hundred and two votes, nevertheless, for the Candace-Jean François list.

In Gourbeyre and Gosier, no complications. The ballot box was taken to the seat of government which operated itself.

In Vieux-Habitants, 1,600 votes for the official list. There are not 1,600 registered voters in this commune.

In Grand-Bourg (Marie-Galante), the voters could not take part in the vote. Two thousand votes, however, went to the official list.