re they
actually were; that Lincoln in his droll way compared the process of
mobilization to shoveling a bushel of fleas across a barn floor.(7) From
the military point of view it was no time to attempt an advance. Against
the military argument, three political arguments loomed dark in the
minds of the Cabinet; there was the clamor of the Northern majority;
there were the threats of the politicians who were to assemble in
Congress, July fourth; there was the term of service of the volunteers
which had been limited by the proclamation to three months. Late in
June, the Cabinet decided upon the political course, overruled the
military advisers, and gave its voice for an immediate advance into
Virginia. Lincoln accepted this rash advice. Scott yielded. General
Irwin McDowell was ordered to strike a Confederate force that had
assembled at Manassas.(8) On the fourth of July, the day Congress met,
the government made use of a coup de theatre. It held a review of what
was then considered a "grand army" of twenty-five thousand men. A few
days later, the sensibilities of the Congressmen were further exploited.
Impressionable members were "deeply moved," when the same host in
marching order passed again through the city and wheeled southward
toward Virginia. Confident of victory, the Congressmen spent these days
in high debate upon anything that took their fancy. When, a fortnight
later, it was known that a battle was imminent, many of them treated the
Occasion as a picnic. They took horses, or hired vehicles, and away
they went southward for a jolly outing on the day the Confederacy was
to collapse. In the mind of the unfortunate General who commanded the
expedition a different mood prevailed. In depression, he said to a
friend, "This is not an army. It will take a long time to make an army.
But his duty as a soldier forbade him to oppose his superiors; the
poor fellow could not proclaim his distrust of his army in public."(9)
Thoughtful observers at Washington felt danger in the air, both military
and political.

Sunday, July twenty-first, dawned clear. It was the day of the
expected battle. A noted Englishman, setting out for the front as war
correspondent of the London Times, observed "the calmness and silence
of the streets of Washington, this early morning." After crossing the
Potomac, he felt that "the promise of a lovely day given by the early
dawn was likely to be realized to the fullest"; and "the placid beauty
of the