Countdown to War, Day 26. 23 July: Austria-Hungary prepares a "Note" for Serbia. But not to worry about war.

One hundred years ago today, Thursday 23 July 1914 provided a welcome break from a period of unusual heat: “There was yesterday a welcome change from the oppressively hot weather of Tuesday in the North of England,” wrote the Manchester Guardian, “to conditions decidedly cooler and less enervating.” An anticyclone was due “to give several days of fine, stable weather, at first rather cool and subsequently very warm.”

On the Continent, however, things were as hot as ever: “The heat in Germany and Northern Europe continues extreme.” Further south, things might – or might not – be warming up, but that didn’t have much to do with the weather.

Serious Turn Improbable

In the Lower House of the Hungarian Parliament to-day the Premier, Count Tisza, said the Foreign situation is now not of such a nature that a serious turn can be regarded as certain or even probable. The situation abroad is now absolutely uncertain. It can be settled by peaceful means, though the possibility of serious complications also exists.

A report from Paris added:

In well-informed quarters it is believed that the Austro-Hungarian Note to Servia will not be presented until the end of this week. While its terms are not yet known, it is understood that on the whole counsels of moderation will be found to have prevailed, and that generally speaking no demands will be made upon Servia to which she will not be able to accede without loss of dignity.

“So...” said Martin hesitantly, “Things are certain or they’re completely uncertain. Peaceful means are possible but there may be serious complications. Counsels of moderation sounds good, but if they fail, just how extreme will things get?”

“They’re getting tough,” said the Cynic, “Austria-Hungary’s winding itself up to put pressure on Serbia. That’s what that means. A diplomatic note is how a country tells another it’s pissed off. This one isn’t going to be nice.”

“But... what about the counsels of moderation and all that?”

“What? You’ve never seen wishful thinking before?”

Austro-Hungarian troops. Getting ready?

The article went on:

The “Neue Freie Presse” says what we demand from Servia does not go beyond what two States wishing to maintain friendly relations must grant each other, as Austria-Hungary actually grants it to Russia...

Russia? That nation’s name kept cropping up these days. But what did the business of the assassination of Francis Ferdinand have to do with Russia?

“Fellow slavs. And a rival empire to Austria’s.”

At least there was another piece, “Austria and Servia”, that was a little reassuring.

Vienna is notoriously the most jumpy capital in Europe, and the talk about war between Austria and Servia is surely not to be taken seriously. The nearest parallel to the quarrel now in progress between Austria and Servia is the quarrel between England and France in 1868 over Orsini’s attempt on the life of the Emperor Napoleon. Orsini’s headquarters had been in London and France complained very bitterly of our allowing our capital to be the centre of a conspiracy against he life of her Sovereign.

A good point. There had been no war between Britain and France in the 1860s. Why should there be war now between Austria-Hungary and Serbia? 

“When people start telling you there’s no danger of war, get ready to take cover,” said the Cynic.

For light relief, they turned to another story, about an “Ulster Suffragette’s Trial”.

Miss Dorothy Evans, organising secretary of the Ulster branch of the Women’s Social and Political Union, was placed in the dock at the Belfast Assizes yesterday for trial, but owing to her conduct no progress could be made, and after a series of remarkable scenes the case against her was adjourned to the next assizes, and she was forcibly removed from the dock protesting.

Belfast Evening Telegraph photo of Dorothy Evans (right) and
fellow-suffragette Madge Muir on their release from gaol in April 1914

Amusing. Women’s suffrage and Ireland were the questions most troubling Britain these days, he supposed. And here they were coming together. Characteristically, in a noisy confrontation.

Countdown to War, Day 19. 16 July 1914: talk of war. And – the shock of 1914 – mixed bathing in Manchester

One hundred years ago today, on Thursday 16 July 1914, Martin and his railwayman friends, reading the Manchester Guardian during a break in work, would have seen that the French Socialists at their conference had discussed strike action as a means of avoiding war.

The speakers were divided in opinion, some maintaining that it was useless to talk of revolts and strikes in war time since they knew that such movements were impossible, while others declared more confidence should be placed in the force of Socialism. This afternoon, M.Vaillant and M. Jaurès advocated a general strike as a means of preventing war.

Ah, yes. Jaurès. It took him a while to work out how to pronounce the name, but eventually he decided he must be the French Socialist the clever young men from University spoke of so highly at Labour Party meetings. A pretty significant figure, it seemed. And he was right: if preventing war wasn’t a big enough question for a general strike, what would be?

“Ah,” said the Cynic, “so now we think there might be a war to prevent?”

There were certainly enough trouble spots that could breed war around the world. 

The young men kept on reading the Guardian. “Huerta’s family leave”, they discovered: it seemed that the rebels had won in Mexico and the President was going. 

Just the day before they’d read about another arms shipment being seized on the way to Dublin; today it was “Confiscation of 1500,000 Cartridges” in “cement bags at Stockton”; apparently “they were going to Belfast”, so each side was clearly arming as fast as it could. 

Response to hunger-striking suffragettes
The torture of force feeding

A different kind of conflict was taking place even within England itself: an article headlined “Case against forcible feeding” quoted a speaker at a public meeting saying that the participants:

...were there to protest against torture, and especially against torture by forcible feeding as carried out in prisons. As medical men they wished also to protest against the degradation and prostitution of the medical profession by compelling its members to act as torturers and executioners.

Somehow, though, Martin didn’t think French trades unionists would be contemplating a general strike against the government of Mexico, or over the brewing civil war in Ireland – surely a British matter anyway? – and least of all over the mistreatment of British women in British prisons.

“No,” said the man holding the paper, “here’s a piece that’s nearer the mark.”

German Crown Prince Wilhelm
One can just imagine his charming line in self-deprecating humour

It was headlined “Germany’s hour of destiny” and concerned a telegram from the German Crown Prince to the author of a pamphlet that claimed:

... the military preparations in France and Russia will be so far advanced in the spring of 1915 that an invasion by such mighty armies as have never been seen before on earth must be daily expected.

War in Central Europe itself? Surely not. But the article pointed out that the Crown Prince had written:

I have read your excellent pamphlet with the greatest interest, and I wish it the widest circulation among our German people.

Did that mean that Germany was genuinely afraid it might soon face war? That didn’t sound good. 

Even more chilling was the piece about Hungary’s view on Serbia:

In the Lower House of the Hungarian Parliament to-day Count Tisza, the Premier, replying to an interpellation regarding Servian connections with the Sarayevo murders, said that Austria-Hungary’s relations with Servia must be made clear. [...] The question had been raised whether the present uncertainty must not inevitably be decided by war. He must say that the State which did not consider war the “ultima ratio” could not call itself a state.

“What the hell’s an ‘ultima ratio’ when it’s at home?” asked the man reading the piece out loud, “what’s wrong with using English in an English paper?”

István Tisza, Hungarian Prime Minister
A laugh a minute for an evening together, one imagines

But the question that had been asked was whether war was inevitable. Inevitable? That was far more sinister than anything he’d heard previously since that Archduke had been murdered. Were things turning nastier than Martin had imagined?

It lightened the mood when the reader regaled them with the news that an experiment in mixed bathing in Withington, near Manchester, had been a success. It had been carefully managed: 

The regulations of the Committee provided that individual bathers would not be admitted, and this was rigidly enforced. In the matter of costume the Committee had laid down strict rules. Men were permitted to wear only what is known as the University or Amateur Swimming Association costume of dark blue or black material, and women were also limited to a dark costume of like material. If bathers do not possess these they can obtain them at the bath upon a minimal payment.

“Let no-one say that 1914’s not a year for boldness, then,” proclaimed Martin.

“Cautious boldness anyway,” said the Cynic.

“I think I might go for a swim in Withington myself this weekend,” said Martin.

“Why? Do you think you can persuade a woman to go with you?” asked the Cynic.

The baths get bold in Withingotn