At first the war seemed extremely popular. The rush to volunteer showed that. A tone of opposition prevailed in New England, but it was quiet--hardly perceptible. May 21, 50,000 people gathered in front of the city hall at New York and called for vigorous measures. Hostilities appeared to be regarded by all as a just punishment for the long series of Mexican insults, barbarities and outrages. The country called; patriotism responded, and other considerations helped. Democratic politicians believed their party would gain prestige and strength. A great and common purpose would bind it firmly together. Many offices and appointments would follow, and almost everybody would gain some profit in a business way. Taylor's "victories" on the Rio Grande intensified the enthusiasm. "Upon the duties which the present crisis invoked," exclaimed the Philadelphia _North American_, "our country has but one heart," and an invasion of the enemy's territory "will meet the approbation of the entire American public." Accordingly the first session of the Twenty-ninth Congress pushed its work far into the summer of 1846--even after Senator Fairfield wrote, "All nature [is] hissing"--and embodied the government's policy in laws.[34.2] [THE WAR SOON UNPOPULAR] But this mood changed surprisingly. When Congress adjourned, it was in bad humor, and the country sympathized with it. News of the occupation of California produced little enthusiasm, for it had been expected. The fighting at Monterey excited interest, but it was followed at once by a long armistice, and it had no permanent effect on the downward course of public sentiment. Instead of glorying in the war, the Democrats now defended it feebly, and a great many regarded it as a grave political blunder. The fall Congressional elections went strongly against them. Every reverse could be explained, of course--in Pennsylvania a heavy storm, in New York the opposition of "every most pestilential and reckless form of law-hating faction," apathy here, lack of organization there--but the _National Intelligencer_, chief organ of the Whigs, brushed explanations aside, and coldly remarked, "We presume that our President and his Cabinet are by this time convinced that they have forfeited the public confidence--the confidence, that is, of their own party; that of the other they never possessed"; and by mid-winter the political outlook for the war seemed extremely dark.[34.3]