Austria-Hungary Rejects Serbia’s Response

King’s Academy

The First World War was an unprecedented catastrophe that shaped our modern world. Erik Sass is covering the events of the war exactly 100 years after they happened. This is the 133rd installment in the series.

July 25-26, 1914: Austria-Hungary Rejects Serbia’s Response

The delivery of Austria-Hungary’s ultimatum to Serbia on July 23, 1914 triggered frantic activity across Europe as men of state tried to defuse the situation by getting Austria-Hungary to extend the deadline or soften the terms. But in the end their uncoordinated efforts were too little, too late—and it didn’t help that some of them were sending mixed messages.

Wrong Impressions

In the final hours before the Serbian response was received at 6pm on July 25, Austria-Hungary and Germany tried to persuade Europe’s other Great Powers not to get involved. Above all they hoped that France and Britain, which had no direct interest in Serbia, would urge moderation on Russia—and at first it looked like they might get their wish.

In Paris the text of the Austro-Hungarian ultimatum was delivered to Justice Minister Jean-Baptiste Bienvenu-Martin, filling in for Premier (and Foreign Minister) René Viviani, who was still at sea with President Raymond Poincaré on the return journey from St. Petersburg. According to the Austro-Hungarian ambassador to Paris, Count Szécsen, Bienvenu-Martin seemed to understand the need for harsh measures, and the German ambassador, Wilhelm von Schoen, made a similar report, leading German Foreign Secretary Gottlieb von Jagow to conclude that “France, too, desired a localization of the conflict.”

Meanwhile, in London, British Foreign Secretary Edward Grey still refused to take sides. On July 25, Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Sazonov instructed Russia’s ambassador to London, Alexander Benckendorff, to point out that

So long as it is possible to avert a European war, it is easier for England than for any other Power to exert a moderating influence on Austria…  It was therefore very desirable that England should firmly and clearly make it understood that she considers Austria’s action unjustified by the circumstances and extremely dangerous to European peace. 

That same day, Grey’s own assistant undersecretary of state for foreign affairs, Eyre Crowe, argued that Germany’s attitude would determine the outcome, and that London should therefore warn Berlin before it was too late: “The point that now matters is whether Germany is or is not absolutely determined to have this war now. There is still the chance that she can be made to hesitate, if she can be induced to apprehend that the war will find England by the side of France and Russia.”

But Grey was reluctant to make even veiled threats to Berlin and Vienna, hoping instead to offer Britain’s services as an impartial mediator between Austria-Hungary and Russia—obviously still failing to comprehend that Austria-Hungary was set on war with Serbia no matter what. He also continued to suggest that Germany join the other Great Powers in mediating the dispute, for example telling the German ambassador, Prince Lichnowsky, Berlin could “influence the Austrian government to take a favorable view” of the Serbian response—again failing to understand that Germany was actually encouraging Austria-Hungary to spurn compromise and crush Serbia. 

The Germans and Austrians took French and British ambiguity as evidence that neither would come to Russia’s aid, which in turn made it unlikely that Russia herself would actually fight when the chips were down. Thus on the evening of July 25 Chancellor Bethmann-Hollweg sent a telegram to Kaiser Wilhelm II (still enjoying a cruise in the Norwegian fjords on the royal yacht) assuring him that “Paris and London are actively working for localization of the conflict.”

Victims of Their Own Deceit

But this was a disastrous misapprehension, as events would soon reveal. First of all, as minister of justice, Bienvenu-Martin had no experience or authority over French foreign policy, and the Germans should never have imagined that his casual remarks actually represented the views of the French government—a fact he emphasized himself. 

Second, when it came to Britain the Germans were ironically falling victim to their own trickery. Lichnowsky was under instructions to say that Germany had not been consulted by Austria-Hungary about the latter’s plans regarding Serbia. Foreign Secretary Grey took this lie at face value and assumed that Germany also wanted to keep the peace, which is why he didn’t threaten Berlin—but if he had known that Germany was secretly encouraging Austria-Hungary, he probably would have.

As a matter of fact, the German deception went even further than that: when Grey asked Berlin to urge Vienna to accept outside mediation of the dispute with Serbia, the Germans said they would recommend the idea to their ally—but actually told the Austrians to ignore the British suggestion and proceed with their plan.

The Serbian Response

Meanwhile, as the hours crept by on July 25 and the deadline approached, Serbian leaders worked feverishly to craft a humble response that would satisfy as many of the Austrian demands as possible, but without sacrificing Serbia’s sovereignty. Ultimately, the Serbians agreed to nine out of eleven conditions, including issuing an official statement disavowing subversion aimed against Austria-Hungary; suppression of publications inciting hatred of Austria-Hungary; dissolution of “Narodna Obrana,” a Yugoslav propaganda organization; elimination of anti-Hapsburg content from textbooks and teaching; removal from service of all army officers who espoused anti-Austrian propaganda; arrest of Ciganović and Tankosić, both implicated in the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand; suppression of cross-border smuggling between Serbia and Bosnia; and explanations of anti-Austrian statements by high-ranking Serbian officials. 

But two demands remained unfulfilled: item five, for the participation of representatives from the Austro-Hungarian government in the suppression of subversive moments, and item six, participation of Austro-Hungarian officials in the internal Serbian judicial investigation. Both conditions would have undermined Serbian sovereignty, leaving the Serbian government no choice but to deliver the following fateful response: “As regards the participation in this inquiry of Austro-Hungarian agents... this cannot be accepted, as this is a violation of the constitution and of criminal procedure.”

Chronicling America

As expected, the Serbian refusal on these two points provided Austria-Hungary the pretext it needed to break off diplomatic relations in preparation for war. After receiving the Serbian response at 6pm the Austro-Hungarian ambassador to Belgrade, Baron von Giesl, notified Vienna, burned his codebooks, sent a note to Prime Minister Pašić declaring that diplomatic relations were broken off, and immediately headed to the Belgrade train station, where he boarded the next train for Austria-Hungary at 6:40pm. 

After receiving news of the Serbian response at 7:45pm, around 9 pm Emperor Franz Josef ordered mobilization against Serbia under “Plan B” (for “Balkans”), which called for the formation of three armies along the Serbian frontier—the Second, Fifth, and Sixth (see map below)—while three others guarded Austria-Hungary’s border with Russia. On the other side Serbia’s Prince Regent Alexander had already decreed mobilization that afternoon, and the Serbian government began evacuating Belgrade—just a few miles from Austro-Hungarian territory across the Danube River—and relocating to Kragujevac, about 50 miles to the south. In the opening weeks of the war the Serbian First, Second, and Third Armies would form north and west of Kragujevac before advancing to the Austro-Hungarian frontier (top).

On the evening of July 25 enthusiastic crowds gathered in Berlin and Vienna, cheering the rejection of the Serbian response. The British ambassador to Vienna, Sir Maurice de Bunsen, later recalled: “The demeanour of the people at Vienna and, as I was informed, in many other principal cities of the Monarchy, showed plainly the popularity of the idea of war with Serbia… Now the floodgates were opened, and the entire people and press clamoured impatiently for immediate… punishment of the hated Serbian race.” 

Russia Prepares to Mobilize

At the same time Russia was preparing to mobilize in support of Serbia, marking a dangerous escalation of the situation. On the morning of July 25, before Serbia even presented its response to the Austrian ultimatum, Tsar Nicholas II ordered “pre-mobilization” measures including the return of troops on maneuvers, automatic promotion of all cadet officers to full officers, and call-up of reservists for frontier divisions. The Tsar also approved—“in principle”—mobilization against Austria-Hungary, involving 13 army corps containing a total 1.1 million men; however the actual order for mobilization wasn’t yet given.

Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Sazonov hoped that a show of strength would suffice to deter Austria-Hungary from attacking Serbia, and also believed that a “partial mobilization,” limited to the Russian frontier with Austria-Hungary, could convey this message without threatening Germany. However he failed to realize two key details.

First of all, the pre-mobilization order actually affected all Russian forces along both the German and Austro-Hungarian borders—and the Germans were unlikely to grasp, or care about, the fine distinctions between pre-mobilization and mobilization. Indeed, it was all a matter of semantics, and the preparations certainly looked warlike to the French ambassador to St. Petersburg, Maurice Paléologue, who told the Italian ambassador on the evening of July 25 that the Tsar’s “Council of Ministers has taken decisions on the… measures to be put in force in the war against Austria and Germany, now regarded as imminent.” Later Paléologue accompanied Izvolsky, the Russian ambassador to France (now hurrying back to his post) to the train station, where, amid crowds of soldiers, they agreed, “It is war this time.”

Second—and even more disastrously—there was no such thing as “partial mobilization” against Austria-Hungary: the Russian general staff had only drawn up plans for general mobilization against both Germany and Austria-Hungary, on the reasonable assumption the allies would fight together. In other words, it was all or nothing, and when the Tsar’s ministers discovered this unfortunate fact, they would face a terrible choice: back down and let Austria-Hungary crush Serbia, or proceed to general mobilization.

More Misstatements 

As the sun rose on July 26, 1914, the situation in Europe was rapidly spinning out of control, but no one had declared war and swift, forceful diplomacy might yet have saved the day. Unfortunately, now it was Sazonov’s turn to misspeak. Still hoping to defuse the situation, the Russian foreign minister assured the German ambassador, Friedrich Pourtalès, that “no mobilization order had been issued… [and] the Cabinet had decided not to issue one until Austria-Hungary assumes a hostile attitude toward Russia”—for some reason leaving out Serbia, the focal point of the whole conflict. It’s hard to understand this omission, but Sazonov may simply have assumed that the phrase “toward Russia” covered Serbia as well, since everyone understood the basic situation—but in these fraught negotiations any misunderstanding could be catastrophic.

To be fair, Sazonov was in good company when it came to tragic misstatements. In one of the more significant errors, over breakfast on July 26, Britain’s King George V told the Kaiser’s brother, Prince Henry of Prussia, “We shall try all we can to keep out of this and shall remain neutral.” While it’s easy to see how the Germans might interpret this in an encouraging light, as with Bienvenu-Martin’s statements they never should have given so much weight to the opinion of a single individual, especially as the British monarch no longer exercised much real control over foreign policy; the king, who had not consulted extensively with Prime Minister Asquith or Foreign Secretary Grey, was expressing a personal opinion at most. 

In any event, the Germans often fell prey to irrational optimism. For example, on July 24, First Lord of the Admiralty Winston Churchill and Lord Chancellor Richard Haldane had dinner with Albert Ballin, a German shipping magnate and close friend of the Kaiser, who was apparently acting as an unofficial envoy from Berlin, and offered them the following unusual deal: “Suppose we had to go to war with Russia and France, and suppose we defeated France and yet took nothing from her in Europe, not an inch of her territory, only some colonies to indemnify us. Would that make a difference to England’s attitude? Suppose we gave a guarantee beforehand!”

Churchill and Haldane were skeptical about this strange, improbable proposal for a number of reasons. For one thing, there was no way to know that Germany would keep her word after defeating France and establishing control of the continent. But Ballin somehow came away with the impression that Britain might be open to such an arrangement, leading to another round of desperately confused last-minute negotiations as the fateful month of July 1914 drew to a close.

The Chain Reaction

Whatever the Germans—and many British—may have hoped, Britain didn’t actually have much choice about getting involved in a European war, having learned the hard way that she couldn’t allow the continent to fall under the control of a single power, as during the imperial heydays of Louis XIV and Napoleon Bonaparte. On July 26, Crowe, the perceptive undersecretary of state for foreign affairs, sketched out the chain reaction that was about to start: 

I am afraid that the real difficulty to be overcome will be found in the question of mobilization. Austria is already mobilizing. This… is a serious menace to Russia, who cannot be expected to delay her own mobilization... If Russia mobilizes, we have been warned that Germany will do the same, and as German mobilization is directed almost entirely against France, the latter cannot possibly delay her own mobilization even for the fraction of a day… This however means that within 24 hours His Majesty’s Government will be faced with the question whether, in a quarrel so imposed by Austria on an unwilling France, Great Britain will stand idly aside, or take sides…

See the previous installment or all entries.

Hee-Haw: The Wild Ride of "Dominick the Donkey"—the Holiday Earworm You Love to Hate

Delpixart/iStock via Getty Images
Delpixart/iStock via Getty Images

Everyone loves Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. He’s got the whole underdog thing going for him, and when the fog is thick on Christmas Eve, he’s definitely the creature you want guiding Santa’s sleigh. But what happens when Saint Nick reaches Italy, and he’s faced with steep hills that no reindeer—magical or otherwise—can climb?

That’s when Santa apparently calls upon Dominick the Donkey, the holiday hero immortalized in the 1960 song of the same name. Recorded by Lou Monte, “Dominick The Donkey” is a novelty song even by Christmas music standards. The opening line finds Monte—or someone else, or heck, maybe a real donkey—singing “hee-haw, hee-haw” as sleigh bells jingle in the background. A mere 12 seconds into the tune, it’s clear you’re in for a wild ride.

 

Over the next two minutes and 30 seconds, Monte shares some fun facts about Dominick: He’s a nice donkey who never kicks but loves to dance. When ol’ Dom starts shaking his tail, the old folks—cummares and cumpares, or godmothers and godfathers—join the fun and "dance a tarentell," an abbreviation of la tarantella, a traditional Italian folk dance. Most importantly, Dominick negotiates Italy’s hills on Christmas Eve, helping Santa distribute presents to boys and girls across the country.

And not just any presents: Dominick delivers shoes and dresses “made in Brook-a-lyn,” which Monte somehow rhymes with “Josephine.” Oh yeah, and while the donkey’s doing all this, he’s wearing the mayor’s derby hat, because you’ve got to look sharp. It’s a silly story made even sillier by that incessant “hee-haw, hee-haw,” which cuts in every 30 seconds like a squeaky door hinge.

There may have actually been some historical basis for “Dominick.”

“Travelling by donkey was universal in southern Italy, as it was in Greece,” Dominic DiFrisco, president emeritus of the joint Civic Committee of Italian Americans, said in a 2012 interview with the Chicago Sun-Times. “[Monte’s] playing easy with history, but it’s a cute song, and Monte was at that time one of the hottest singers in America.”

Rumored to have been financed by the Gambino crime family, “Dominick the Donkey” somehow failed to make the Billboard Hot 100 in 1960. But it’s become a cult classic in the nearly 70 years since, especially in Italian American households. In 2014, the song reached #69 on Billboard’s Holiday 100 and #23 on the Holiday Digital Song Sales chart. In 2018, “Dominick” hit #1 on the Comedy Digital Track Sales tally. As of December 2019, the Christmas curio had surpassed 21 million Spotify streams.

“Dominick the Donkey” made international headlines in 2011, when popular BBC DJ Chris Moyles launched a campaign to push the song onto the UK singles chart. “If we leave Britain one thing, it would be that each Christmas kids would listen to 'Dominick the Donkey,’” Moyles said. While his noble efforts didn’t yield a coveted Christmas #1, “Dominick” peaked at a very respectable #3.

 

As with a lot of Christmas songs, there’s a certain kitschy, ironic appeal to “Dominick the Donkey.” Many listeners enjoy the song because, on some level, they’re amazed it exists. But there’s a deeper meaning that becomes apparent the more you know about Lou Monte.

Born Luigi Scaglione in New York City, Monte began his career as a singer and comedian shortly before he served in World War II. Based in New Jersey, Monte subsequently became known as “The Godfather of Italian Humor” and “The King of Italian-American Music.” His specialty was Italian-themed novelty songs like “Pepino the Italian Mouse,” his first and only Top 10 hit. “Pepino” reached #5 on the Billboard Hot 100 in 1963, the year before The Beatles broke America.

“Pepino” was penned by Ray Allen and Wandra Merrell, the duo that teamed up with Sam Saltzberg to write “Dominick the Donkey.” That same trio of songwriters was also responsible for “What Did Washington Say (When He Crossed the Delaware),” the B-side of “Pepino.” In that song, George Washington declares, “Fa un’fridd,” or ‘It’s cold!” while making his famous 1776 boat ride.

With his mix of English and Italian dialect, Monte made inside jokes for Italian Americans while sharing their culture with the rest of the country. His riffs on American history (“What Did Washington Say,” “Paul Revere’s Horse (Ba-cha-ca-loop),” “Please, Mr. Columbus”) gave the nation’s foundational stories a dash of Italian flavor. This was important at a time when Italians were still considered outsiders.

According to the 1993 book Italian Americans and Their Public and Private Life, Monte’s songs appealed to “a broad spectrum ranging from working class to professional middle-class Italian Americans.” Monte sold millions of records, played nightclubs across America, and appeared on TV programs like The Perry Como Show and The Ernie Kovacs Show. He died in Pompano Beach, Florida, in 1989. He was 72.

Monte lives on thanks to Dominick—a character too iconic to die. In 2016, author Shirley Alarie released A New Home for Dominick and A New Family for Dominick, a two-part children’s book series about the beloved jackass. In 2018, Jersey native Joe Baccan dropped “Dominooch,” a sequel to “Dominick.” The song tells the tale of how Dominick’s son takes over for his aging padre. Fittingly, “Dominooch” was written by composer Nancy Triggiani, who worked with Monte’s son, Ray, at her recording studio.

Speaking with NorthJersey.com in 2016, Ray Monte had a simple explanation for why Dominick’s hee-haw has echoed through the generations. “It was a funny novelty song,” he said, noting that his father “had a niche for novelty.”

The 11 Best Movies on Netflix Right Now

Laura Dern and Scarlett Johansson in Marriage Story (2019).
Laura Dern and Scarlett Johansson in Marriage Story (2019).
Wilson Webb/Netflix

With thousands of titles available, browsing your Netflix menu can feel like a full-time job. If you're feeling a little overwhelmed, take a look at our picks for the 11 best movies on Netflix right now.

1. Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)

Spider-Man may be in the middle of a Disney and Sony power struggle, but that didn't stop this ambitious animated film from winning the Oscar for Best Animated Feature at the 2019 Academy Awards. Using a variety of visual style choices, the film tracks the adventures of Miles Morales (Shameik Moore), who discovers he's not the only Spider-Man in town.

2. Hell or High Water (2016)

Taylor Sheridan's Oscar-nominated Hell or High Water follows two brothers (Chris Pine and Ben Foster) who take to bank robberies in an effort to save their family ranch from foreclosure; Jeff Bridges is the drawling, laconic lawman on their tail.

3. Raging Bull (1980)

Robert De Niro takes on the life of pugilist Jake LaMotta in a landmark and Oscar-winning film from Martin Scorsese that frames LaMotta's violent career in stark black and white. Joe Pesci co-stars.

4. Marriage Story (2019)

Director Noah Bambauch drew raves for this deeply emotional drama about a couple (Adam Driver, Scarlett Johansson) whose uncoupling takes a heavy emotional and psychological toll on their family.

5. Dolemite Is My Name (2019)

Eddie Murphy ended a brief sabbatical from filmmaking following a mixed reception to 2016's Mr. Church with this winning biopic about Rudy Ray Moore, a flailing comedian who finds success when he reinvents himself as Dolemite, a wisecracking pimp. When the character takes off, Moore produces a big-screen feature with a crew of inept collaborators.

6. The Lobster (2015)

Colin Farrell stars in this black comedy that feels reminiscent of screenwriter Charlie Kaufman's work: A slump-shouldered loner (Farrell) has just 45 days to find a life partner before he's turned into an animal. Can he make it work with Rachel Weisz, or is he doomed to a life on all fours? By turns absurd and provocative, The Lobster isn't a conventional date movie, but it might have more to say about relationships than a pile of Nicholas Sparks paperbacks.

7. Flash of Genius (2008)

Greg Kinnear stars in this drama based on a true story about inventor Robert Kearns, who revolutionized automobiles with his intermittent windshield wiper. Instead of getting rich, Kearns is ripped off by the automotive industry and engages in a years-long battle for recognition.

8. Locke (2013)

The camera rarely wavers from Tom Hardy in this existential thriller, which takes place entirely in Hardy's vehicle. A construction foreman trying to make sure an important job is executed well, Hardy's Ivan Locke grapples with some surprising news from a mistress and the demands of his family. It's a one-act, one-man play, with Hardy making the repeated act of conversing on his cell phone as tense and compelling as if he were driving with a bomb in the trunk.

9. Cop Car (2015)

When two kids decide to take a police cruiser for a joyride, the driver (Kevin Bacon) begins a dogged pursuit. No good cop, he's got plenty to hide.

10. Taxi Driver (1976)

Another De Niro and Scorsese collaboration hits the mark, as Taxi Driver is regularly cited as one of the greatest American films ever made. De Niro is a potently single-minded Travis Bickle, a cabbie in a seedy '70s New York who wants to be an avenging angel for victims of crime. The mercurial Bickle, however, is just as unhinged as those he targets.

11. Sweet Virginia (2017)

Jon Bernthal lumbers through this thriller as a former rodeo star whose career has left him physically broken. Now managing a hotel in small-town Alaska, he stumbles onto a plot involving a murderer-for-hire (Christopher Abbott), upending his quiet existence and forcing him to take action.

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