The Day: 28 June 1919 — Part II, Preliminaries

The Hall of Mirrors, designed by Jules Hardouin-Mansard in 1678, stretches 238 feet long but is only 35 feet wide and 40 feet high—more a corridor than a salon. The notable aspect of the room is a long line of mirrors that fills every inch of the 17 great arches rising on the wall opposite the 17 equally large windows that look out over the magnificent gardens. Overhead on the high ceiling are the allegorical paintings of Charles Le Brun eulogizing the career of Louis le Grand, creator of this fabulous palace. This was the where a king of France humiliated the Republic of Venice and declared his grandson king of Spain. In this spacious hall the King of Prussia held his triumphant court and had himself proclaimed German Emperor before the petty monarchs and princes of Germany, witnessed by the generals of an army victorious over France. While only a few peace negotiations had taken place in the great chateau of Versailles, the winning Allies understood symbolism. They gathered together to lay the German Empire in the dust in the very place of its origin.

A Group of Tourists in the Hall of Mirrors
(Steve Miller Photo)

At the end of the long narrow hall were row upon row of low, tightly bunched upholstered benches for the invited guests, the deputies and senators of the French parliament, and the delegation members. In front of these seats were tables for the secretaries of delegations. Beyond these administrative outposts, raised slightly on a short dais, rested the horseshoe table for the plenipotentiaries, extending along the mirrored side of the hall. At the middle of the table, facing the high, recessed windows, was the chair reserved for Clemenceau, president of the conference, premier of France, and symbol of victory. To his left, in the direction of the Hall of Peace, were places reserved for the delegates of Great Britain, the British dominions, and Japan. Here the angle in the table was reached, and then came chairs for Germany followed by the seats of Uruguay, Peru, Panama, Nicaragua, Honduras, Brazil, Haiti, Guatemala, Bolivia, and Ecuador.

At the right hand of the "Tiger" sat the commissioners from the United States, then France, Belgium, and Italy to the turn of the table, where the order was Greece, Poland, Cuba, Romania, the Hedjaz, Serbia, and Czechoslovakia. Behind this main table were tables for secretaries. To the rear of these, extending toward the Hall of War with its glorious ceiling of Le Brun paintings depicting Germany, Holland, and Spain alarmed by the mighty conquests of France, were chairs for the representatives of the press. Inside the main horseshoe table were smaller desks for secretaries, with an isolated table in front of the chairman's place set aside for the official interpreter of the conference, Lieutenant Paul Mantoux. Before these desks, like a lonely guillotine, rested the rose and sandalwood table on which lay the peace treaty. There were two additional tables holding two other documents to be signed simultaneously with it: the protocol, to be signed by all of the delegates, and the Rhine province agreement, to be signed by the great powers, Poland, and Germany. Only the places reserved for the Chinese delegation would not be occupied. The Chinese commissioners, in protest against the treaty clauses agreeing to the transfer of the German leaseholds to Japan, had decided to boycott the ceremonies and the treaty. As one of them put the issue, "If we sign we shall not have a Chinaman's chance in China."

Clemenceau and Wilson Arrive

There was to be only one official treaty, printed on Japanese vellum, with a large margin and held together by red tape. The document, prepared at a reputed cost of 15,000 francs, was to be placed in the archives of the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs with an official copy to each of the signatory governments. All participating governments had previously agreed that both the French and English texts of the treaty should be considered authentic and binding. In order to expedite the signing, which at the most favorable speed possible would consume nearly an hour, the seals of the commissioners, which were considered necessary accouterments, had been placed on the document earlier. In many cases these were the personal seals of the signatories, for these men signed as representatives of their governments and not as plenipotentiaries. Their action was subject to legislative review and final approval. For this reason the Americans did not believe that President Wilson should use the seal selected for him, bearing the American eagle and the words "The President of the United States of America." Wilson substituted an emblem from a scarf pin given him at the time of his second marriage by the state of California, which bore his name in stenographic characters. Other representatives lacked both personal and national seals but obtained them before the ceremonies.

As the time for opening the historic session neared, the long hall filled with the throng of delegates, visitors, and newsmen from all over the world. The commissioners had put in almost an hour passing from table to table searching for autographs of men as notable as themselves. The guests bobbed up and down in their seats, stepping over the low bench-like stools to talk to friends or to observe the great men of the conference. Photographers unsuccessfully attempted to climb pillars for better picture-taking. A score of Gardes Municipaux provided security against souvenir hunters pilfering the pens and inkwells in the hall.

About 2:30 p.m., Georges Clemenceau entered the room and looked about him to see that all arrangements were in perfect order. He observed a group of wounded veterans at one side with their medals of valor pinned to their uniforms and, walking up to them, engaged them in a brief conversation. At 2:45 p.m. he moved up to the middle table and took his seat as the presiding officer. Observant spectators noted the singular fact that he sat almost directly under the ceiling decoration bearing the legend, "The king governs alone." The spot was as close as possible to the location of William I of Prussia when he had become the German Emperor in 1871.

The Diplomats Jamming the Hall of Mirrors

Wilson and Lloyd George entered the room soon after Clemenceau, and the assemblage saluted them with discreet applause. At last the table was full, except for the German and Chinese delegations. Clemenceau glanced to the right and to the left; people had taken their seats but still conversed with their neighbors. He made a sign to the ushers who whispered, "Ssh! Ssh!" to the offenders. The talking ceased and only the sound of occasional coughing and the dry rustle of programs marred the silence. A sharp military order startled the audience as the Gardes Republicaine at the doorway flashed their sabers into their scabbards with a loud click. In the ensuing silence Clemenceau, his voice distant but penetrating, commanded, "Let the Germans enter." His direction was followed by a hush as the two German delegates, preceded by four Allied officers, entered by way of the Hall of Peace and moved to their seats. Dr. Mueller, a tall man with a scrubby little mustache, wearing black, with a short black tie over his white shirt front, appeared pale and nervous. Dr. Bell held himself calm and erect. The Germans bowed stiffly and sat down. The final moment had arrived at last.