Austrians Decide on War With Serbia

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wikimedia commons

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 126th installment in the series.

July 2, 1914: Austrians Decide on War with Serbia 

The assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie in Sarajevo on June 28, 1914, shocked Europe—but few, if any, guessed it would trigger the greatest war in history. And yet, by the first days of July, the wheels of fate had already been set in motion by a handful of powerful men meeting behind closed doors in Vienna. 

At first, in the immediate aftermath of the Sarajevo murders, it appeared compromise and accommodation might smooth over a serious—but not necessarily catastrophic—diplomatic crisis. Most informed observers expected Austria-Hungary to make some tough demands on Serbia, which would have to make obeisance. Serbian Prime Minister Nikola Pašić (who tried to foil the conspiracy) moved to placate Austria-Hungary by condemning the crime and sending condolences to Vienna. On the other side the German ambassador to Vienna, Heinrich von Tschirschky, warned the Austrians against “hasty measures.” But when the plotters were interrogated, it didn’t take long for the Austrian authorities to uncover the role of Serbian army officers. 

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Plenty of people already guessed that Serbia was entangled with the assassination: On July 1, the French ambassador to Belgrade, Léon Descos, noted in a letter to Paris that the Serbian nationalist movement had “allowed itself to be dragged by the military-party towards new methods and objectives… The very circumstances of the crime betray the existence of a national organization the ends of which are easy to imagine.” And the Serbian charge d’affaires in Paris later admitted that the Black Hand “were so powerful and had succeeded so well in concealing their actions… that it was impossible to stop them… Pašić knew! We all knew! But nothing could be done.” 

So while the Austrians weren’t quite clear on the structure of the conspiracy, they were basically correct in connecting the assassins to officials in Belgrade, including Milan Ciganović and Major Vojislav Tankosić, the right-hand man to Apis. And that was enough to bring the world tumbling down.

Whatever he might say in public, Pašić, for one, guessed what was coming, gloomily predicting on the afternoon of June 28, “It is very bad, it will mean war.” The next day, he ordered Ciganović, who had helped the plotters while also serving as an informer inside the Black Hand, smuggled out of Serbia to Montenegro to keep him out of reach of investigators.

But before the investigation even began, the Austrians had already decided to settle accounts with Serbia. The prime movers were the bellicose chief of the general staff, Conrad von Hötzendorf (top, center), and Foreign Minister Berchtold (top, right), who agreed on war against Serbia no later than July 2, and immediately set to work convincing Emperor Franz Josef (top, left).

Their cooperation reflected a new alignment. At first, Berchtold—who freely admitted he knew little of Balkan affairs on his appointment as foreign minister in February 1912—believed that Austria-Hungary could deal with Serbia without resorting to violence. But from 1912-1914, he grew increasingly frustrated with the intractable Serbs and used the threat of military action to force Serbia to give up Albania in December 1912, then to force Serbia’s sidekick Montenegro to give up the strategic city of Scutari in May 1913, and again to force Serbia to withdraw troops from eastern Albania in September 1913.

And still it went on: In the spring of 1914, the Austrian foreign minister suspected (correctly) that the Serbs were covertly supporting Esad Pasha Toptani, a powerful Albanian clan leader and former Ottoman officer, who organized a rebellion against the Prince of Wied, Berchtold’s preferred candidate for the Albanian throne. Berchtold was also alarmed by rumors that Serbia would absorb Montenegro, gaining access to the sea and setting the stage for the final struggle to free the Dual Monarchy’s Southern Slavic peoples. In short, the assassination of the Archduke was just the latest in an ongoing series of provocations by Serbia, all exacerbating the “real issue”—the rebellious mood among the empire’s own South Slavs, who looked to their ethnic kinsmen for liberation. In this context, Conrad’s repeated calls for war against Serbia became more and more persuasive; the outrage in Sarajevo simply provided the pretext. 

Of course, Berchtold and Conrad weren’t the sole decision-makers—but Emperor Franz Josef was also leaning towards war. Meeting with the German ambassador Tschirschky on July 2, he said he needed to confer with Kaiser Wilhelm II, “For I see the future very black… and conditions [in the Balkans] grow more disquieting every day. I do not know if we can continue any longer to look on passively and I hope that your Kaiser also measures the menace which the adjacency of Serbia signifies for the Monarchy.” To this Tschirschky replied, “His Majesty can surely rely on finding Germany solidly behind the Monarchy as soon as there is a question of defending one of its vital interests.”

Tschirschky had obviously changed his tune from just a few days before, reflecting new orders from Berlin, which shared Vienna’s fears that Slavic nationalism would undermine Austria-Hungary—leaving Germany to face the Triple Entente of France, Russia and Britain alone. As early as October 1913, the Kaiser assured Berchtold, “The Slavs are born not to rule but to obey… Belgrade shall be bombarded and occupied until the will of His Majesty [Franz Josef] has been carried out. And you can be sure that I will back you and am ready to draw the saber any time your action makes it necessary.”

Now Wilhelm, traumatized by the loss of his friend Franz Ferdinand, issued a sharp reprimand to Tschirschky for advising restraint in Vienna, scribbling in the margins of the ambassador’s June 30 report: “Will Tschirschky have the goodness to drop this nonsense! It is high time a clean sweep was made of the Serbs,” adding, “Now or never!” In the same vein, on July 1, Victor Naumann, a German publicist with close ties to Foreign Secretary Jagow, visited Vienna and told Berchtold’s chief of staff, Count Hoyos, that “after the Sarajevo murder, it was a matter of life and death for the Monarchy not to leave this crime unpunished but to annihilate Serbia… Austria-Hungary will be finished as a Monarchy and as a Great Power if she does not take advantage of this moment.”

Through formal and informal channels, Germany was already urging Austria-Hungary to act. The next step was for Count Hoyos to carry a personal letter from Franz Josef to Wilhelm, formally asking for German support for the planned reckoning with Serbia. But it was already clear that Berlin and Vienna were in agreement about Serbia; the key question was whether Russia would come to Serbia’s aid, increasing the chances of a much wider conflict. Here, in the first of a series of fatal mistakes, the German and Austrian leadership were confident that the war could be “localized,” meaning limited to Austria-Hungary and Serbia.

Meanwhile, the rest of the continent remained oblivious to the gathering storm. July was holiday season, and many members of the European elite had already left sweltering cities for country estates, health spas, and beachside retreats. The junior officials who remained behind to man the desks had even less of an idea what was brewing. Hugh Gibson, the new secretary to the U.S. embassy in the Belgian capital of Brussels, wrote in his diary on July 4: “For the last two years I have looked forward to just such a post as this, where nothing ever happens, where there is no earthly chance of being called out of bed in the middle of the night to see the human race brawling over its differences.” At the end of that fateful month Gibson felt it necessary to clarify: “No, my recent remarks about nothing ever happening in Brussels were not intended as sarcasm.”

See the previous installment or all entries.

Disney's Most Magical Destinations Have Been Reimagined as Vintage Travel Posters

UpgradedPoints.com
UpgradedPoints.com

Many of the iconic settings of animated Disney movies were modeled after real places around the world. Ussé Castle in France’s Loire Valley, for example, is widely rumored to have been the inspiration behind the original Sleeping Beauty story. (Although the castle in the movie more closely resembles Germany's Neuschwanstein Castle.) Likewise, the fictional island in Moana was made to look like Samoa, and the Sultan’s palace in Aladdin shares some similarities with India's Taj Mahal.

If you’ve ever dreamed of exploring Agrabah or Neverland, then you’ll probably enjoy getting lost in these Disney-inspired travel posters from the designers at UpgradedPoints.com, an online resource that helps individuals maximize their credit card travel rewards. Only one of the posters features a real destination ("Beautiful France"), but these illustrations let you get one step closer to scaling Pride Rock or plumbing the depths of Atlantica.

All of the images are rendered in a vintage style with enticing slogans attached—much like the exotic travel posters that were prevalent in the 1930s.

“A few of our designers wanted to capture that longing to experience the true locations of these fantastic films, and the inner child in all of us couldn’t resist seeing how they interpreted the locations of their favorite films,” UpgradedPoints.com writes. “The results are breathtaking and make us wish we could fall into our favorite Disney movies.”

Keep scrolling to see the posters, and for more travel inspiration, read up on eight real-life locations that inspired Disney places (plus one that didn't).

A Disney-inspired poster of France
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An Atlantica travel poster
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A Disney-inspired poster
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A Disney-inspired poster
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A Lion King travel poster
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A Neverland travel poster
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11 Memorable Facts About Cats the Musical

Mike Clarke/Getty Images
Mike Clarke/Getty Images

“It was better than Cats!” Decades after Andrew Lloyd Webber's famed musical opened on Broadway on October 7, 1982, this tongue-in-cheek idiom remains a part of our lexicon (thanks to Saturday Night Live). Although the feline extravaganza divided the critics, it won over audiences of all ages and became an industry juggernaut—one that single-handedly generated more than $3 billion for New York City's economy—and that was before it made a return to the Great White Way in 2016. In honor of Andrew Lloyd Webber's birthday on March 22, let’s take a trip down memory lane.

1. The work that Cats the musical is based on was originally going to include dogs.

Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats, published in 1939, is a collection of feline-themed poems written by the great T. S. Eliot. A whimsical, lighthearted effort, the volume has been delighting cat fanciers for generations—and it could have become just as big of a hit with dog lovers, too. At first, Eliot envisioned the book as an assemblage of canine- and tabby-related poems. However, he came to believe that “dogs don’t seem to lend themselves to verse quite so well, collectively, as cats.” (Spoken like a true ailurophile.) According to his publisher, Eliot decided that “it would be improper to wrap [felines] up with dogs” and barely even mentioned them in the finished product.

For his part, Andrew Lloyd Webber has described his attitude towards cats as “quite neutral.” Still, the composer felt that Eliot’s rhymes could form the basis of a daring, West End-worthy soundtrack. It seemed like an irresistible challenge. “I wanted to set that exciting verse to music,” he explained. “When I [had] written with lyricists in the past … the lyrics have been written to the music. So I was intrigued to see whether I could write a complete piece the other way ‘round.”

2. "Memory" was inspired by a poem that T.S. Eliot never finished.

In 1980, Webber approached T.S. Eliot’s widow, Valerie, to ask for her blessing on the project. She not only said “yes,” but provided the songwriter with some helpful notes and letters that her husband had written about Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats—including a half-finished, eight-line poem called “Grizabella, the Glamour Cat.” Feeling that it was too melancholy for children, Eliot decided to omit the piece from Practical Cats. But the dramatic power of the poem made it irresistible for Webber and Trevor Nunn, the show’s original director. By combining lines from “Grizabella, the Glamour Cat” with those of another Eliot poem, “Rhapsody on a Windy Night,” they laid the foundation for what became the powerful ballad “Memory.” A smash hit within a smash hit, this showstopper has been covered by such icons as Barbra Streisand and Barry Manilow.

3. Dame Judi Dench left the cast of Cats when her Achilles tendon snapped.

One of Britain’s most esteemed actresses, Dench was brought in to play Grizabella for Cats’s original run on the West End. Then, about three weeks into rehearsals, she was going through a scene with co-star Wayne Sleep (Mr. Mistoffelees) when disaster struck. “She went, ‘You kicked me!’” Sleep recalls in the above video. “And I said, ‘I didn’t, actually, are you alright?’” She wasn’t. Somehow, Dench had managed to tear her Achilles tendon. As a last-minute replacement, Elaine Paige of Evita fame was brought aboard. In an eerie coincidence, Paige had heard a recorded version of “Memory” on a local radio station less than 24 hours before she was asked to play Grizabella. Also, an actual black cat had crossed her path that day. Spooky.

4. To finance the show, Andrew Lloyd Webber ended up mortgaging his house.

Although Andrew Lloyd Webber had previously won great acclaim as one of the creative minds behind Jesus Christ Superstar and other hit shows, Cats had a hard time finding investors. According to choreographer Gillian Lynne, “[it] was very, very difficult to finance because everyone said ‘A show about cats? You must be raving mad.’” In fact, the musical fell so far short of its fundraising goals that Webber ended up taking out a second mortgage on his home to help get Cats the musical off the ground.

5. When Cats the musical came to Broadway, its venue got a huge makeover.

Cats made its West End debut on May 11, 1981. Seventeen months later, a Broadway production of the musical launched what was to become an 18-year run at the Winter Garden Theatre. But before the show could open, some major adjustments had to be made to the venue. Cats came with an enormous, sprawling set which was far too large for the theatre’s available performing space. To make some more room, the stage had to be expanded. Consequently, several rows of orchestra seats were removed, along with the Winter Garden’s proscenium arch. And that was just the beginning. For Grizabella’s climactic ascent into the Heaviside Layer on a giant, levitating tire, the crew installed a hydraulic lift in the orchestra pit and carved a massive hole through the auditorium ceiling. Finally, the theater’s walls were painted black to set the proper mood. After Cats closed in 2000, the original look of the Winter Garden was painstakingly restored—at a cost of $8 million.

6. Cats the musical set longevity records on both sides of the Atlantic.

The original London production took its final bow on May 11, 2002, exactly 21 years after the show had opened—which, at the time, made Cats the longest-running musical in the West End’s history. (It would lose that title to Les Miserables in 2006.) Across the pond, the show was performed at the Winter Garden for the 6138th time on June 19, 1997, putting Cats ahead of A Chorus Line as the longest-running show on Broadway. To celebrate, a massive outdoor celebration was held between 50th and 51st streets, complete with a laser light show and an exclusive after-party for Cats alums.

7. One theatergoer sued the show for $6 million.

Like Hair, Cats involves a lot of performer-audience interaction. See it live, and you might just spot a leotard-clad actor licking himself near your seat before the curtain goes up. In some productions, the character Rum Tum Tugger even rushes out into the crowd and finds an unsuspecting patron to dance with. At a Broadway performance on January 30, 1996, Tugger was played by stage veteran David Hibbard. That night, he singled out one Evelyn Amato as his would-be dance partner. Mildly put, she did not appreciate his antics. Alleging that Hibbard had gyrated his pelvis in her face, Amato sued the musical and its creative team for $6 million.

8. Thanks to Cats the musical, T.S. Eliot received a posthumous Tony.

Because most of the songs in Cats are almost verbatim recitations of Eliot’s poems, he’s regarded as its primary lyricist—even though he died in 1965, long before the show was conceived. Still, Eliot’s contributions earned him a 1983 Tony for Best Book of a Musical. A visibly moved Valerie Eliot took the stage to accept this prize on her late spouse’s behalf. “Tonight’s honor would have given my husband particular pleasure because he loved the theatre,” she told the crowd. Eliot also shared the Best Original Score Tony with Andrew Lloyd Webber.

9. The original Broadway production used more than 3000 pounds of yak hair.

Major productions of Cats use meticulously crafted yak hair wigs, which currently cost around $2300 apiece and can take 40 hours or more to produce. Adding to the expense is the fact that costumers can’t just recycle an old wig after some performer gets recast. “Each wig is made specifically for the actor,” explains wigmaker Hannah McGregor in the above video. Since people tend to have differently shaped heads, precise measurements are taken of every cast member’s skull before he or she is fitted with a new head of hair. “[Their wigs] have to fit them perfectly,” McGregor adds, “because of the amount of jumping and skipping they do as cats.” Perhaps it should come as no surprise that, over its 18-year run, the first Broadway production used 3247 pounds of yak hair. (In comparison, the heaviest actual yaks only weigh around 2200 pounds.)

10. A recent revival included hip hop.

In December 2014, Cats returned to the West End with an all-new cast and music. “The Rum Tum Tugger,” a popular Act I song, was reimagined as a hip hop number. “I’ve come to the conclusion, having read [Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats] again, that maybe Eliot was the inventor of rap,” Webber told the press.

11. Another revival featured an internet-famous feline for one night only.

On September 30, Grumpy Cat made her Broadway debut in Cats, briefly taking the stage with the cast. Despite being named Honorary Jellicle Cat, she hated every minute of it.

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