763.72119/5597½
Memorandum by the Secretary of State
The Signing of the Treaty of Peace With Germany at Versailles on June 28th, 191957
The Treaty of Peace with Germany was signed today in the Galerie des Glaces of the Palace of Versailles.
The hour set for the ceremony of signature was three o’clock and promptly on the hour the great assembly was opened by M. Clemenceau [Page 598] and before four o’clock the last delegate had affixed his name to this greatest of treaties.
For two or three days there has been much anxiety about who was to see the signing and who was not. The Secretariat of the Commission has had a very unhappy time with the applications for tickets, and I imagine that the Secretariat General of the Conference must have been nearly wild with the pressure brought to bear to obtain admission.
Friday night the matter was settled, the lists revised and the tickets issued. We obtained 60 tickets for the conference room, a lesser number for the gallery outside, and about 50 for the grounds of the Palace. There were some heart-burnings I know but that was unavoidable.
It seemed best in view of the possibility of confusion to go early to Versailles, so at one o’clock Mrs. Lansing and I accompanied by Foster and Allen Dulles and Captain Garfield started from the Hotel de Crillon in an automobile driven by Corporal Chaveriat who had Private Seymour, my personal orderly, with him. Mr. Kirk, my secretary, came in our other car with his mother and some of the staff. We ran out through the Bois de Boulogne, up the winding road to the terraced gardens of St. Cloud and then on to the Versailles road through the forest. All along the route were French soldiers with red flags to direct the way. On the windshield was pasted a circular device like a target, blue in the center, then a white circle and outside of that a red one. This acted as a pass. On entering Versailles the curious crowds lined the way while soldiers and gens d’armes kept them back from the pavement.
We drove to the Palace by the broad approach at the front. On either side of the spacious roadway was a row of cavalry in horizon blue and trench helmets and carrying their long lances from which fluttered little red and white streamers. Behind these rows and about 20 feet from them were poilus shoulder to shoulder; and behind the poilus were dense masses of people. We drew up at the entrance to the basement, where our hats were checked, and we then mounted the staircase to the main floor of the Palace. On every third step stood two dragoons in their white trousers, black boots, dark blue coats with red facings, and glittering silver helmets with black horse tails over their shoulders. They stood like statues with sabres drawn looking neither to the right or left.
Passing through several ante-rooms we finally reached the Hall of Mirrors where a great table extended along the inner side of the gallery with short wing tables at either end. The seats of the delegates were on the outside in the usual order followed at the Preliminary Conference except that delegates sat on both sides of the wing tables. The place for the German delegates was on the left wing table next [Page 599] to the long table. In the center of the long table was the seat of the presiding officer, M. Clemenceau. Directly opposite his seat in the center of the room was a gold Louis XVth table on which lay the great treaty in a case of brown leather. On both sides of this table and filling all the available space between the tables of the delegates were the members of the Secretariat General and the Secretaries of the various Commissions. The space thus occupied took up about one third of the Hall, the rest of the space being filled with benches without backs, but beautifully upholstered in tapestry, for spectators and members of the press, the latter being to the right of Mr. Clemenceau.
When we arrived only a few people were in the room, but delegates and invited guests gathered rapidly. It was about two o’clock when M. Clemenceau arrived. He passed through the spectators section shaking hands right and left and causing perturbation to the ushers who were making way for him and who constantly got so far ahead that they had to turn back to find him. I was standing near the table where the aisle ended. When he saw me his face lit up with a smile and he exclaimed, “This is a great day for France”. I replied, “A great day for the world, Mr. President”. I had reached out my hand to shake hands, when he said, “No, give me both your hands, that is the way France and America should greet each other today”. He then passed on toward his seat. A little later I followed him and he turned as I passed and showed me a wonderful gold pen and holder which lay in a leather case, a present from some organization. I discovered that he was sitting in President Wilson’s seat and pointed out the fact to him. “Oh”, he exclaimed, “I am glad you told me before the President came. He might have been embarrassed and I would have been very much annoyed.”
It was soon after this, as the delegates began taking their seats in considerable numbers, that there began a regular field day in writing autographs. Most of these were put upon the place-programs but every now and then an album appeared. During this occupation the President arrived and was at once deluged with requests for his signature, which he gave at first willingly but later with evident unwillingness.
Soon, however, there was a stir at the entrance behind the spectators. The President said, “Here they come”. Preceded by ushers and French officers and followed by four or five secretaries the German Commissioners, Müller and Bell came down the aisle. Their appearance was not prepossessing. Their expressions were tense or possibly stolid. They were nervous and unquestionably felt deeply the humiliation which they, as representatives of a vanquished and hated country had to bear. They came to the table and were directed to their seats by Dutasta, the Secretary General of the Conference. [Page 600] No one rose and no acknowledgement of their arrival was given. I think that I would have felt a deep compassion for these scapegoats of Germany, save for the fact that I could not but think of the joy which would have filled their hearts if they were there representing a victorious Germany with the Emperor William seated in the place of “The Old Tiger” of France. It would have been an awful, not a glorious, day for the world and civilization.
As soon as they were seated M. Clemenceau stood up and briefly stated that the treaty was ready and that it was necessary for Germany to perform the conditions, which were irrevocable. After being interpreted into English, the remarks were rendered into German and, when the interpreter spoke of the necessity of performance and the unchangeable character of the conditions, Dr. Müller nodded his head and said in a low voice “Oui! Oui!”. In some ways the scene was painful. It was as if men were called upon to sign their own death warrants, fully realizing that they were at the mercy of those whom they had wronged beyond the possibility of pardon. They seemed anxious to get through with it and be off.
After the translation of the words of M. Clemenceau, Dutasta and Martin, the fussy little head of “the protocol”, walked over to the German delegates and conducted them to the table where lay the treaty, open at the place where they were to sign. Their seals like the seals of all other delegates had been previously affixed. With pallid faces and trembling hands they wrote their names quickly and were then conducted back to their places. Their names were at the end of the pages containing the signatures.
When the Germans had signed, the pages were turned back to the beginning. Then President Wilson rose and walked down to the right wing table and around the end and proceeded to the table with the treaty upon it. I followed, then Mr. White, Colonel House and General Bliss. In that order we signed opposite our individual seals, the old Lansing coat of arms being finely impressed. The President’s seal was a small one with his name written stenographically. It had been made with a gold ring thus engraved. We then in turn signed the Polish treaty and the Rhine agreement which were on small side-tables.
I used, in signing, a plain steel pen in a silver penholder, the latter presented for the occasion by my office. The same penholder and pen I had used this morning at the President’s house to sign the treaty with France by which the United States promises to come to her aid in the event of aggression by Germany. The Treaty was signed by Clemenceau, Pichon, the President and me, and is to be sent to the Senate at the same time as the Treaty of Peace is laid before that body.
[Page 601]When we had signed the Treaty of Peace and returned to our seats by way of the left wing table, the President whispered, “I did not know I was excited until I found my hand trembling when I wrote my name.” I had noticed that his signature was unusually cramped. My own name I wrote without any feeling of nervousness. Possibly I was not as sensitive to the occasion as the President. It is hard to understand why I was not more responsive to the emotional impulses of such a momentous event. I cannot explain it myself.
After the American delegation had signed, the delegates of the British Empire followed, then those of France, Italy and Japan and so on down the list in the alphabetical order of the countries. From the time that the Germans affixed their signatures to the document to the end of the signing about forty-five minutes elapsed. It became a monotonous business after the first few had signed, and so the delegates and spectators visited with their neighbors, while the autograph-hunters continued their efforts, clustering about the central group of M. Clemenceau, President Wilson and Mr. Lloyd George. It certainly took from the dignity of the occasion.
There was one circumstance which caused a feeling of disquietude and, in a measure, of surprise, and that was the absence from the assembly of the Chinese delegates.
In the morning Baron Makino, the head of the Japanese delegation, came to see me at my request. For three quarters of an hour I labored with him endeavoring to persuade him to issue a formal public statement embodying the assurances of Japan to the Council of Four as to the surrender of Shantung to China and the liberal policy Japan intended to pursue. I gave him a draft of a statement and urged him to see the Chinese and, if he was unwilling to issue the statement at once, to tell them that he would issue it after the signing of the treaty. I pointed out to him that such a course would gain general applause and cause satisfaction everywhere and that, if he failed to do it, I believed China would not sign the treaty since the Council of Four had refused to permit them to sign with reservations. I said that, if the Chinese failed to sign, the blame for their failure would fall chiefly upon Japan whatever the justice of the case might be, that it would cause the Shantung articles and Japan’s designs to be the source of serious criticism, and might even endanger the ratification of the treaty in certain countries, while it would undoubtedly arouse bitter resentment in China and might result in forceful resistance to the Japanese throughout the country.
Baron Makino listened with great attention and expressed appreciation of my efforts but said that on account of Japanese public opinion he was afraid that the proposed action could not be taken and that he did not believe that the Chinese would refuse to sign the treaty. I repeated that I was sure that he under-estimated the intensity of [Page 602] China’s sense of being unjustly treated and that I was firmly convinced that the Chinese delegates would not sign unless some public statement of policy in the nature of the one which I had given him was issued or at least promised. I asked him again to study the draft and to act for his government in a way to relieve the situation and insure China’s participation. I felt, however, that, while Makino was very courteous and apparently impressed, I had not made a dent in his armor of oriental inscrutability. In a word, I know that I have completely failed in persuading him.
Subsequent events proved the correctness of my assertion so far as the signature of the treaty by China was concerned, and I believe that the consequences will be like those prophesied unless Japan changes the course taken by her delegates and gives out a statement. Even then it may be too late to remove the impression already made.
The President was greatly disturbed at the absence of the Chinese. When I pointed it out to him, he exclaimed, “That is most serious. It will cause grave complications.” I told him of my interview with Makino and he said that he was sorry that they had not listened to me, as he believed trouble would result. He then added “this is most unfortunate, but I don’t know what we can do”.
It was also a subject of remark that neither President Poincaré nor Marshal Foch was present. The impression seemed to be general that Poincaré was not there because Clemenceau did not want him, as the report is that there is little love lost between them. I believe, however, that the reason was that it would have caused embarrassment to find him a seat in conformity with his official dignity. Of course he could not preside and yet as head of the French Republic he could not have taken a position below the French Premier. This seems to me the most plausible explanation of his absence, though the former may have had some influence.
I do not know what excuse will be offered for Foch’s not being present. Probably the call of duty will be given, a convenient but inconclusive reason, though possibly the true one. My own belief is that he purposely absented himself to show that he did not approve the treaty. At the plenary session of the Conference preceding the delivery of the treaty to the Germans on May 7th, he made an address58 bitterly condemning the conditions of peace and declaring that the treaty ought not to be signed as it was not severe enough on Germany and failed to protect France from future aggression. Having taken this radical position, to which little or no attention was paid by anybody, he would have been in rather a humiliating position if he had sanctioned by his presence the celebration of a treaty to which he had so unequivocally objected. His absence, however, caused general remark, astonishment and regret.
[Page 603]After the signature and after M. Clemenceau’s announcement that the session was ended, the German delegates were formally conducted out of the Hall. When they had gone, the other delegates without ceremony left their seats, some going to the windows to look at the famous fountains and the crowds swarming on the terraces, others chatting with the spectators, examining the signed treaty or making their way to the exit. Even before the last delegate had signed the cannon had begun to boom out the news while the whirring of aeroplanes over the palace and gardens was clearly audible.
One of the striking features of the ceremony was the presence of twenty poilus and twenty doughboys in the embrasures of the windows facing the long table. The French soldiers were hideously disfigured by face wounds, some appearing to have on the grotesque masks of Greek comedy and tragedy. The American boys were from different units and selected under General Pershing’s direction.
M. Clemenceau accompanied by President Wilson and Mr. Lloyd George proceeded to the Terrace, where immense throngs crowded about them cheering as they walked slowly between the playing fountains. Mrs. Wilson, Mrs. Lansing, Ambassador and Mrs. Wallace and I stood in one of the balconied windows of the Galerie des Glaces and watched the scene which was most inspiring, a wonderful demonstration of popular joy.
We then went down to the grand entrance and found our car after some little delay, and, foregoing tea with M. Clemenceau, we were soon on our way to Paris along roads black with people who waved flags and cheered as we passed. It was surprising how many American flags were in evidence.
Tonight Paris is a seething mass of rejoicing people. They are dancing, shouting, carrying flags of various nationalities and dragging about the streets captured German guns which have adorned the Place de la Concorde and Champs Élysées. Great army trucks, French, American and British, pass along simply hidden with men in uniform, and the cocottes are reaping a rich harvest of soldiers’ caps as souvenirs. The scene is one hard to describe. Paris seems delirious.
We were dining this evening with the Paderewskis at the Hotel Ritz, but I had to leave at 9:15 to go to the Gare des Invalides to see the President and his party start for Brest. It was no easy matter to drive a motor car through the revellers who filled the roadway. Crowds were about the station and the President received a great ovation as he entered the decorated way to his train.
I saw M. Clemenceau at the station and said to him, “This is your day, Mr. President.” “And yours, yes, yours too,” he answered, his face beaming. “It is not the same”, I said, “You are the great figure”. He smiled even more broadly and shook my hand warmly as we parted.
[Page 604]The revelry is continuing as I write. It is after one o’clock now, and songs, cheers, and horns are making a joyous din, while the streets and the great square still are filled with men and women. Paris does not intend to sleep tonight. So ends this great day.
- For minutes of the plenary session of June 28, 1919, see vol. iii, p. 421.↩
- Vol. iii, pp. 384–388.↩
- Sent by cable to his secretary, Mr. Tumulty. Reprinted from the Congressional Record, vol. 58, pt. 2, pp. 1952–1953.↩