The negotiations which followed his application to resign occupied some time.  He remained at Winchester, and the pleasant home where he and his wife had found such kindly welcome was the scene of much discussion.  Governor Letcher was not alone in his endeavours to alter his decision.  Many were the letters that poured in.  From every class of Virginians, from public men and private, came the same appeal.  But until he was convinced that Virginia would suffer by his action, Jackson was deaf to argument.  He had not yet realised the measure of confidence which he had won.  To those who sought to move him by saying that his country could not spare his services, or by speaking of his hold upon the troops, he replied that they greatly overestimated his capacity for usefulness, and that his place would readily be filled by a better man.  That many of his friends were deeply incensed with the Secretary of War was only natural, and his conduct was bitterly denounced.  But Jackson not only forbore to criticise, but in his presence all criticism was forbidden.  There can be no doubt that he was deeply wounded.  He could be angry when he chose, and his anger was none the less fierce because it was habitually controlled.  He never forgave Davis for his want of wisdom after Manassas; and indeed, in future campaigns, the President’s action was sufficient to exasperate the most patriotic of his generals.  But during this time of trouble not a word escaped Jackson which showed those nearest him that his equanimity was disturbed.  Anticipating that he would be ordered to the Military Institute, he was even delighted, says his wife, at the prospect of returning home.  The reason of his calmness is not far to seek.  He had come to the determination that it was his duty to resign, not, we may be certain, without prayer and self-communing, and when Jackson saw what his duty was, all other considerations were soon dismissed.  He was content to leave the future in higher hands.  It had been so with him when the question of secession was first broached.  “It was soon after the election of 1860,” wrote one of his clerical friends, “when the country was beginning to heave in the agony of dissolution.  We had just risen from morning prayers in his own house, where at that time I was a guest.  Filled with gloom, I was lamenting in strong language the condition and prospect of our beloved country.  ‘Why,’ said he, ’should Christians be disturbed about the dissolution of the Union?  It can only come by God’s permission, and will only be permitted if for His people’s good.  I cannot see why we should be distressed about such things, whatever be their consequence.’”

For the next month the Stonewall Brigade and its commander enjoyed a well-earned rest.  The Federals, on Loring’s withdrawal, contented themselves with holding Romney and Moorefield, and on Johnston’s recommendation Loring and part of his troops were transferred elsewhere.  The enemy showed no intention of advancing.  The season was against them.  The winter was abnormally wet; the Potomac was higher than it had been for twenty years, and the Virginia roads had disappeared in mud.  In order to encourage re-enlistment amongst the men, furloughs were liberally granted by the authorities at Richmond, and for a short season the din of arms was unheard on the Shenandoah.